11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Finn
S omething is different. The guards have been shifting and changing the last few days, but the ones interacting with me today are on edge, anxious. Yesterday, they made me move cells. Is today the day? Evander Williams, the FBI, or whoever is running this escape must have people in their pocket. Not knowing who or where has me on high alert.
“Donaghey,” the guard calls from outside my room. “I’m to take you to the infirmary for a checkup.”
I’m not sick, but I’m not questioning anything when there are so many moving pieces. On my way out, I toss the book I got from the library onto the bed. It’s been a while since anticipation has zipped through me like a drug.
Along the corridor, I walk in front of the guard. His walkie goes off with various things happening around the prison. The urge to ask why I’m going to the infirmary or who ordered my checkup runs strong. If I make it to the medical clinic, I’ll be surprised. Tension hangs in the air.
When we get to the right entrance, I hesitate. Maybe we are going there?
“Hold up,” the guard says at the door. He tugs the walkie out of its holder at his hip. “Donaghey says he’s running a fever. I’ve taken him to the infirmary.”
The public declaration of my illness must be code to set something else in motion. But what? I hate being on the outside looking in. If they’d let me in on the chaos to come, I could’ve helped make it better. Or worse. I might have made it worse. I stifle my chuckle as I step into the infirmary.
“I’ll be staying with you to make sure we get that fever looked after.” His tone is bland.
From my own various exploits, I realize keeping calm and indifferent is the best way to avoid suspicion. Isn’t that how Kimi defeated me in my organization? No matter what I threw at her, she never lost her cool. Titanium nerves. It’s weird to be on this side of the action. To know beyond a doubt something is coming and to have no idea what will happen. I like it better when I’m the spider, not the fly.
The nurse nods to me on the way past, and her gaze is wary. Is she in on it? Or do I make her nervous? We walk along empty beds until we get to one near the fire escape. In theory, that exit should lead to another fenced area.
“How are you feeling, Donaghey?” the guard asks, leaning against the wall.
“Like there’s darkness all around me, and I want someone to throw me a flashlight.”
“Not sure the nurse has anything to cure that.”
“She isn’t the woman I want playing nursemaid.” Not that she’s come over. Considering I’m the only prisoner here, she must be in on it too.
The guard checks his watch and moves to block the emergency exit. The nurse ambles over with a clipboard pressed to her chest. She crouches in front of me, a thermometer in her hand. “Under your tongue.”
I open my mouth for her to slip the cool metal between my lips.
“There are cameras in here,” she says, looking at her chart. “But no sound. Privacy rules.” She gives me a wry smile. “In a minute or two an alarm is going to ring. You’ll have thirty seconds to make it from the door the guard is blocking to the roof.”
“If I don’t get to the roof in the thirty seconds?” I ask around for the thermometer.
It beeps, and she removes it to scribble bullshit on her chart. “You’ll remain locked in the prison. Your friends might still be able to get you out, but you’ll be wasting valuable time.”
Bowl over the guard, take the stairs to the roof. Was it really that simple? “What’s on the roof?”
“With any luck?” She rises and crosses the room. “Your friends with a helicopter.”
My body tightens in response to the quick timeline. My ability to sprint isn’t what it used to be thanks to being in here. For some reason, security frowns on sudden bouts of running. She comes back holding a small cup of pills, but before she can pass them to me, the alarm blares so sharp and sudden she jumps, dropping the plastic cup.
Without hesitating, I lunge off the bed and tackle the guard, sending him flying through the fire exit and into the concrete hallway. His head cracks against the ground. The injury will help him keep his job, assuming he’s still alive. Ahead is the way out into the fenced yard. Red lights flash in a pattern in the corridor and the stairwell. I take the stairs to the right two at a time.
When I get to the top, I wrench on the door handle. It doesn’t budge, and having expected it to be unlocked, I applied too much force. My wrist aches, and I shake out my hand, searching the walls for a key or a way to bypass the lock. They’ve left me nothing?
This was their plan?
My heart thuds through quicksand. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck . Ramming my shoulder into the door repeatedly doesn’t move it. Even though I’m sure I’ve got nothing on me to jimmy the lock, I still pat myself. At the bottom of the stairs, the door to the clinic swings open, and a flurry of voices rises over the sirens.
“Donaghey,” a guard calls from below. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
They’re not kidding. With the flashing strobe lights and the number of stairs, I wonder whether they can see me. There are so many voices echoing. Are they here or on the radio? I shuffle to the corner of the wall closest to the door handle. When the light flashes, none of it catches me. They’ll have to come up here for me, and I’m not making it easy. It’s a narrow stairwell. They’ll have to be single file. Take one down, and they’ll fall like dominoes.
“Donaghey,” the guard calls. “We know you’re up there.”
Do they? They know I went up here, but unless they’ve been able to check the cameras, they can’t be sure whether I got out. Shouldn’t the guard I knocked over be helping me escape?
“I need a medic and backup,” somebody calls on his radio.
Ah. The other guard is still unconscious. Where’d the nurse go if they’re after a medic?
His foot hits the bottom stair, and I tense for battle. Seems he’s on his own. Even easier.
The door behind me pops open, and when it swings back, I almost sag with relief until the lights flash red, and the guard draws his gun.
“Look out!” I holler.
Whoever opened the door lets it partially close, and the guard’s firearm discharges. The bullet pings off the metal surface, and I slip out the half-open door before he can get off another shot.
“Holy fuck.” I force the door closed behind me. The guard who sprints up the stairs after me bangs on the exit. “What took you so long?”
“Holdup at the airport.” The burly Black man hustles me to the waiting chopper.
“Are you Evander?” I hop into the helicopter, and he follows. Before we’re seated, we’re rising into the midnight sky. The guy who got me out shoves the handle down, locking the door, then buckles himself in.
“Shots fired,” he calls to the pilot.
“Are you buckled? We need to bank,” a female voice responds from the front, her thick Irish accent a surprise. The broad man beside her is focused out the passenger window. A three-person team doesn’t seem like much if shit goes wrong.
“Locked,” my rescuer says.
“Loaded.” I suppress my grin.
With that, we take a hard bank, and my ass slides toward the secured door. Jesus, that was sharp. A chuckle escapes. Elation is a wildfire running through me. I made it out. Carys’s name echoes in my mind, and images of her overlap one after the other.
Us in our twenties, in my bed, with her head on my shoulder and leg slung across my hip as she traced my scars. Then seventeen years later, a Russian hotel, the absolute certainty I’ll never love another woman the way I love her, her tears in the interrogation room when she realized I gave myself up for her.
I peer out the window for a moment, watching Michigan fade into the background. Her plan worked, or Evander’s did. Someone’s plan is so simple yet so effective. Then I realize I don’t have a clue who broke me out. Is the guy next to me Evander? FBI? PLA? He never answered.
“You’re Evander? Why the hell was an alarm going off? You wanted everyone aware I was escaping.”
He narrows his eyes and seems thoughtful. “Probably a distraction. I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”
“Why the fuck would you be fuzzy on the details? You planned the details.” Unless he’s not Evander. He fits the physical description, but bulky Black dude isn’t a detailed list of attributes.
His lips twist, and he faces me. “I’m Noel, not Evander. I’m a junior lieutenant in the PLA. The two people up front are Lachlan and Kim.”
That gets my attention. When I glance at the pilot’s seat, she holds my gaze in the mirror, a hint of amusement in her black depths. Well, fuck me. “Lachlan, you said?” I lean forward, sure I’m right.
The man in the passenger seat shifts himself sideways, and his hazel eyes meet mine. The same eyes I looked into for years while we planned takedowns and business expansions. He’s not Lachlan. He’s Lorcan, my baby brother.
“Aye.” His Irish accent is thick and deep. “You can call me Lachlan.” He extends his hand, and I shake it, squeezing ever so slightly.
His goatee is gone, and they’ve dyed his hair a dark brown. Hardly a disguise for anyone determined to dig. But we were never much for taking pictures, and neither of us owned a single social media account. Hopefully, the FBI hasn’t sent him into this assignment to die.
He drops my hand, which reminds me we don’t know each other in this world. Guess I better keep playing along. Their interception of my return home should be a shock. “I was under the impression Evander Williams and his crew were breaking me out? What’s with the change of plans?”
Noel glances at Kim and Lorcan and seems to be weighing his words. “The PLA has an interest in acquiring your services.”
I chuckle, but it holds no humor. “Too bad I’m not interested in serving them. Any two-bit mobster could accomplish the things I’ve done.” Not true. I’ve done lots of cool and illegal shit during my mafia career. Loran’s lips quirk up at my modesty. He’s never heard me downplay anything before.
“Once we’re finished with you, we’ll make sure you get to Cape Verde.” Noel’s tone is mild, and he raises his eyebrows toward Kim’s reflection in the mirror like I’m an idiot. As though he believes he’s in total control. Not today, you fucker.
In one swift movement, I unclip my buckle and lunge at him, my hands gripping his throat. “They sent a lieutenant?” I spit into his face. “Should have sent the general. I don’t answer to you. Or anyone at the PLA. And if I have to wrest the controls from her fingers, we’ll be going to Cape Verde unless you can give me a good reason to cooperate.”
Lorcan reaches over the seats and tears me off Noel. He’s been working out. I don’t remember him being that strong. Of course, prison has made me weak. Between solitary confinement and fights, I didn’t get much time for the gym.
“Get the hell off him,” Lorcan growls. “Everything will be explained to ya when we get to Ireland.”
“That’s not good enough.” I match his fierce tone.
His annoyed expression speaks volumes. Am I overselling this? If I didn’t know this was how things would go, I’d be livid. I haven’t taken control of the helicopter or shot Noel. Though I do have his gun now—snatched that while Lorcan heaved on me. No one has noticed yet.
Noel rubs his neck and glowers at me. “Christ, settle down. The PLA wants your assistance, and when you’re done helping, you can do whatever you want. If you won’t help us, we don’t have a problem going after the things that matter to you.”
Lorcan tenses in front of me. Did he just threaten Carys? I unbuckle my seat belt and lunge at him again. Kim banks the copter, and I topple forward into Lorcan’s arm instead of wrapping my hands around Noel’s throat again. Boy doesn’t learn. Lorcan bunches the material of my shirt into his fist and glares at me. We stare at each other, neither of us budging. He tosses me into my seat without a word. Message received, brother. Message received.
“You want me to listen to you,” I snarl. “You don’t threaten me or anyone associated with me.” I tug Noel’s gun out of my waistband and point it at him. “Better not bank again there, Kim. My trigger finger is itching for a workout.”
Noel meets my gaze, and his jaw is set with determination. “You got my gun. So what?”
I chuckle. “So, I’m keeping it. Finders keepers and all that shit.” A smirk plants itself on my face. “Next time you take a jab at me, remember I’ve got this, and I’ll be using it to put a bullet in your brain if you so much as think about coming after me or mine. You got me?”
“Didn’t have to be this way, man.”
“You’re right. It didn’t. So, when we get to Ireland, lieutenant or not, I’m not talking to you. Him”—I gesture to Lorcan—“or her.” I nod at Kim. “Not you.” I slip the gun against the small of my back. “Next time you whip out your dick, make sure it’s bigger than mine.”
Up front, Lorcan lets out a bark of laughter before he smothers it. When I stare out the window, I swallow my answering grin. Been a while since my brother and I were on the same side. Having to put up with the prick beside me just might be worth it to reestablish the camaraderie we lost so long ago.