This Fallen Prey (Rockton #3)(28)

“Yeah,” Roy says. “Run and get ‘the boys.’ Their girlie needs some help.”

“What do you want?” I say.

It’s Brady who responds first. “These people see what you’re doing to me, the injustice, and they aren’t going to stand for it.”

“Yeah, he’s right,” Roy says. “We see the injustice here. The injustice of being forced to live with a killer.”

“No one said he—” I begin.

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Brady cuts in. “I didn’t shoot those people. I’m being framed.”

“See?” Roy says, his voice rising for the others. “Told you it was murder. Multiple murders, like I said. That’s the only reason they’d build him his own private jail. He’s a fucking psychopath.”

“What? Wait,” Brady says. “No. I didn’t—”

“We want a trial,” Roy says. “Now.”

“How?” I say. “He didn’t commit any crimes here.”

“See?” Brady says. “I haven’t done any—”

“Shut. Up.” I glower at him. “These men aren’t here to set you free, you idiot.”

“Hell, yeah. We’ll set him free,” Roy says. “Swinging from the end of a rope.”

“Are you fucking nuts?” It’s Jen, shoving her way through.

“What the hell?” Brady says. “Did he say—”

“It’s called a lynch mob,” I say. “But if you want them to let you out and give you a trial, just let me know.”

I turn to Roy. “Get the hell out of my station.”

“Your station?” He snorts. “You’re the sheriff’s playmate, little girl. Now hand over those keys and let us clean up his mess.”

“I’m going to count to three. When I finish, if you’re still here, you’ll be sharing the cell with this guy, and I really don’t think you want that.”

He laughs. Then he lunges. I duck, grab him by the arm, and throw him down. He hits the floor with a thud. I’m on him in a blink, pinning his arm behind his back.

“Holy shit,” Brady says.

“I’m making the same offer to everyone else,” I call. “Three seconds to get out. Which doesn’t mean I won’t remember all your faces.”

Two leave as Roy rants and writhes beneath me. A guy named Cecil sidles into the cell room.

“Just let him go, Casey,” he says. “We don’t need to get Eric involved.”

Jen laughs, “Seriously? Hell, yeah, Casey, just let that asshole walk away. No harm, no foul.” She moves up to Cecil. “You cowardly piece of shit.”

“Cecil, get out of here,” I say. “You—”

I notice the knife at the last second. I’m distracted, pinning Roy’s arm, his other one free to pull a penknife from his pocket. I see his arm move. I see the knife flash. But I’m too late to stop it, and it rams into my jacket. It gets caught there, and only the tip sinks into my side, but my reaction gives him the leverage he needs to throw me off. Before I can recover, he plows his fist into my jaw.

I fly backward. Jen lets out a squawk of alarm. Outside, Storm is going crazy barking. I barely hear her, just like I barely notice the remaining mob surge forward. I see only that knife coming at me again.

I am on the floor, pain throbbing through me, looking up at Roy, and I don’t see him—I see four thugs in an alley. It’s like I’m back there, and it’s happening again, only this time I know what’s coming. This time, I will not go down under a hail of blows and kicks. This time, it’s one guy, and I am prepared, and he is going to pay.

Roy slashes at me. I catch his arm, and I wrench. He drops the knife. I kick it away, and then I throw him down. He falls and I’m on him, my fists and boots slamming into him.

A hand lands on my shoulder. I wheel, fist flying up. I see Jen’s face. See her eyes widen. I manage to divert my blow, but then Cecil has me by the collar, dragging me off Roy, saying, “Hey, that’s enough.”

“Fucking hell it is,” Jen says.

She goes at him, and I see Roy crawling for the knife. I lunge and land on it, and he slams his fist into the side of my head.

I grab the knife from under me and flip over, brandishing it, and he lunges at me with a snarl . . . just as Kenny and Sam race in. They manage to haul him back.

I’m getting to my feet when I see Brady out of the corner of my eye. He’s grinning. When he catches my glance, he shoots me a thumbs-up.

“That was fucking awesome,” he says. “I gotta say, I’ve been complaining about the entertainment here, and you guys delivered. Hey, big guy, that ‘little girl’ kicked your ass, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say as I rise. “Kenny? Secure—” Blood trickles into my mouth. I wipe it away. “Secure Roy. And—” I hear the slap of the front door. “Hey! No one leaves—”

The thunder of running boots cuts me short. Dalton barrels through with, “What the hell is going . . .” He sees me, staggering, blood dripping.

His eyes go wide. Then he pulls himself up short and wheels on the remaining mob. “You heard Casey. None of you fucking moves. Anyone who does will spend the rest of the year on shit duty.”