Chapter Eighteen
Then…
I know that probably sounds insane, given where we live and what we do…
But fuck it. It was a good ass time.
Not like the good ass times we used to have in the mansion, numbing ourselves like he wanted us to because we were easier to control that way. No, for the first time in a decade, I was actually enjoying myself. We all were.
Taking the yacht out, jet skiing, flying into Manhattan for the night—not to purge, but to breathe, and laugh. Eat good food and smile.
And yes, fuck each other silly in fancy hotel rooms.
We went to Boston to visit my family, and Rook’s family came out to visit us. They stayed in the mansion, and get this… Nothing bad happened.
Truthfully, I think we all knew it wouldn’t last. It had to be smoke in mirrors. A performance put on by the most evil, calculating, conniving son of a bitch this side of the equator.
Maybe that’s why we were living our best lives up until now. Because we knew deep down, there was no way this was the new normal. It’s just not possible…
Not on this motherfucking rock.
Sure enough, the other shoe has definitely dropped. It’s fallen with a clunk that cannot be ignored. And now, it’s back to living each day on edge. Sleeping with one eye open.
Granted, I don’t think Velle’s ever had a peaceful night’s sleep, even before he came here. If I had a genie with a lamp granting me wishes, I think that’d be the first one. For enough peace that my partner can finally get some decent shut-eye.
Either way, we’re back in survival mode, at all costs, and I think our men are now realizing why all the training over the last few months has been so important. They weren’t foolish enough to buy the Ivory’s silence as our victory—just like we weren’t. But we all held out hope.
Shit, maybe we are a bunch of fucking fools…
Because would ya look at our asses now?
Undermined. Tossed aside like garbage.
Playing second fiddle to a new troop of morally bankrupt guard dogs who remind me an awful lot of the Mon-stars from Space Jam.
Seriously. Bitch boy wannabe capos posing as correctional officers when their only real skill comes from the fact that they’re huge and dead inside. Serving their master like the large, braindead simpletons they are.
I’m not saying Brenner isn’t a complete moron, and Linetti doesn’t scream settling out of court for sexual assault allegations, but still. At the end of the day, they’re harmless compared to the assholes who have replaced us.
I sensed that something was off, even before Dr. Love showed up in the rec room. There was this calm in the air—the eye of the storm. The part where everyone thinks they’re safe from the twister, meanwhile, Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton are batting down the hatches.
Velle was already on edge, and he usually gets extra bitchy when he knows something is wrong, but can’t prove it.
For me, it was the perfect time to bring the Pen Boy Posse downstairs for the first time in forever.
Get out some aggression while helping my buddy Kang do the same.
He sure as shit seemed like he needed it.
Next thing I knew, Lem was gathering myself and my partners up for a secret huddle.
“So you know how I’ve been working my connections for anything that might help take down the East Wing doctors?” Lem said in a hushed tone, and Velle smirked.
“Why, do you not like them?” He sneered.
Rook chuckled. “Yea, you almost never mention it.”
Lem gave us a be serious look. It was basically just his regular face, so I’m surprised I was even able to identify it. “Well, I found out that the reason Figueroa was transferred out of nowhere is that The Ivory needed help in Colombia.”
“Who the hell is Figueroa?” Rook asked.
“Some prick who worked with the East doctors, but isn’t actually a doctor,” Velle rumbled, eyeing Dr. Love. “He just up and disappeared a few weeks back. Help with what, exactly?”
Lem shrugged. “Operations. Cartel stuff. Who knows, the point is that he’s been moving people around. Why would he be doing that?”
“Why does he do half the shit he does?” I huffed. “Because he’s a sadistic fuckwad who worships chaos.”
“Exactly,” he said quietly. “It’s odd. Not only that, he’s pulling resources.”
“How do you know all this?” Velle cocked a brow at him.
“My P.I. He knows a few of The Ivory’s connections,” Lem explained. “Apparently, there’s an alliance of sorts that started in Vegas, and it’s in the works here too.”
We were all quiet for a moment.
“What does that have to do with the East doctors?” Vellle seemed outwardly skeptical, but I could tell there was something he wasn’t going to voice.
Something about this that he understood more than the rest of us.
“Not much except that with everyone tied up dealing with whatever is going on, I haven’t been able to get close enough to work on eradicating their asses.”
“I thought you said they’ve been quiet,” I mumbled.
“Irrelevant,” Lem grunted. “They still have to go. After what they did…”
His eyes drifted briefly to his serial killer boyfriend, who was shifting awkwardly next to Trevel Fenwick, watching the others having some heated argument.
Nonstop inmate drama, I’m telling you.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Velle said in a tone projecting assurance. “Have the team keep their ears to the streets. But it might be time to initiate Plan B with those assholes…”
Dr. Love blinked at him. “As in—”
“Send them on vacation with their boy, Templeton.” Velle stared to get his point across.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
“Call a fake meeting,” Rook answered, and Velle nodded.
“We get them alone and do what we should’ve done from the start.”
Dr. Love appeared doubtful, but Velle added, “If The Ivory didn’t care when Templeton went missing, what makes you think he’ll care about the other two?”
“He and Johansson are close,” Love rumbled. “And he brought Hassan in for a reason…”
“Well, you’ll just have to do a better job of getting back in his good graces,” I told him.
“I’d say for starters, stop bringing psycho boyfriend into the fucking mansion whenever it tickles your fancy.” Velle pursed his lips.
Rook and I were smirking.
Dr. Love gave him a curious look that was obviously fake. “I have no idea what you mean…”
Velle laughed. “You have to be the least doctorly doctor I’ve ever encountered.” He shook his head, pursing down the smirk. “I like it.” Lem’s lips twitched. “I just can’t believe I’ve been sleeping under the same roof as The Carver for fucking weeks.”
“I find it soothing.” I shrugged.
“You would.” Velle showed me one of his devilish grins, winking at me when I forced a scowl.
I just love him, man. That’s it.
With them by my side, nothing could ever be bad.
“Mayday, mayday! All hands on deck!” Linetti’s voice came barking over our walkies, interrupting my swooning.
“What the hell…” Velle muttered, pulling his.
“We’ve got a problem…” Peters shouted through. “Velle??”
“There’s a fly in the ointment. I repeat, a fox is in the henhouse!” Linetti babbled more frantic nonsense.
“God, shut up,” Velle growled.
“Is the plane going down??” I snapped. “What’s the damn issue right now?”
We could barely hear what they were saying. Too many voices coming through at once, all jumbled, hectic, and echoing an apparent impending disaster.
“Keep the goddamn lines clear!” Velle roared at them, immediately rushing toward the doors.
We all followed, gaping at one another, helpless, as they finally composed themselves enough to articulate what was happening.
Still, I didn’t believe it until we got back up to Gen-pop, and saw it with our own eyes.
Strangers. In our territory.
Guys we’d never seen before, in uniform—like ours, but with a few minor differences. Like the Spanish writing and distinct crest on their insignia.
These men were new here. But they sure as hell weren’t acting like it.
They weren’t guests of The Ivory, or visitors here for a specific, temporary purpose. They were storming the castle, on order from the king himself.
They’d come prepared, and we were caught off-guard. Just watching on in helpless fury as they caused mass anarchy.
Stalking the halls, ripping inmates from their cells and dragging them around, tossing their stuff everywhere. It was instantly clear that there was no rhyme or reason to what they were doing. They were simply destroying things because that was what they’d been instructed to do.
I was momentarily afraid that Velle was actually going to murder someone.
But he’s my partner, in every way imaginable, and then some.
If he killed someone, I was sure he’d have a damn good reason for it.
I was much less worried about having to help him hide a body than I was about calming him down enough to think and speak rationally.
It was my job to gather up our men at the meeting spot we’d set up shortly after returning from his mom’s funeral.
That’s where we are now…
Keyed up and trying hard not to stumble when that fuck just pulled the rug right out from under us.
The old armory is secluded, separate from the prison and the mansion.
We’ve stocked it with supplies, and we come here weekly to report on how things are going.
We train in here, come up with signals and codes to use in the event of an emergency.
Certain words we can say to one another over the walkies so that the Warden can’t eavesdrop.
It obviously still needed some work.
“Mayday?? A fly in the ointment… Really??” I scoff while pacing in front of them. “You idiots drive me to drink… bleach.”
“Sorry, Jamesy, but I couldn’t remember the codes.” Linetti rubs his eyes. “They caught me off-guard.”
“You’re really going with the I folded under pressure defense??” I snap at him. “Didn’t you do two tours in Iraq??”
He’s quiet for a second, stewing in humiliation before he mumbles, “One and a half. I got kicked out the second time after I… almost got my bunkmate killed.”
I have to stop, balking at him for a solid ten seconds. “Perfect. I feel so much better.”