out!” Jimmy called, and his words raised a hell of a ruckus behind the cell doors. They wanted out, too.
“That true?” the inmate asked Jonathan.
Jonathan nodded. “Afraid so, yes.” He started moving toward the final door.
The inmate followed. “Antoine Johnson,” he said, offering his hand.
Jonathan stifled an ironic chuckle and shook the hand as he continued to walk down the hall. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m coming with you,” Antoine said.
“No, you’re not.” Jonathan answered without eye contact.
Antoine grabbed him by the biceps and jerked him to a halt. “I don’t think you heard me.”
This time, Jonathan’s eyes burned through the man’s brain. “Take your hands off of me,” he growled. “I appreciate your help, so I don’t want to hurt you.”
Antoine seemed to surprise himself as he let go and took a small step back. “C’mon, man. I don’t belong here. I’m innocent.”
“I’m sure you are,” Jonathan said. “But I’m only here for him.” He indicated Jimmy with a toss of his head.
The lock on the final door buzzed, and Jimmy reached for it. “Freeze,” Jonathan commanded. “Don’t move until I tell you.” He looked back to Antoine. “Do not follow us,” he said.
“How you gonna stop me?” He seemed to grow an inch as he tried to look menacing.
Jonathan took a step closer and lowered his voice nearly to a whisper. “If I see you on the other side of that door, I’ll kill you. You helped over there, and I appreciate it. Don’t make me kill you, Antoine.”
The inmate took a step back. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Wait for your cell door to open again and go back home.”
“Scorpion, we gotta go,” Boxers said.
“I’m on it,” Jonathan replied. He held out his hand to Antoine. “Thank you,” he said. “And good luck to you.”
Antoine looked at the hand as if it were something poisonous.
“Trust me,” Jonathan said. “Within the next twelve hours, you’re going to get a big laugh out of this.”
“Digger!” Venice barked in his earbud.
Antoine cocked his head. “A laugh, huh?”
Jonathan smiled. “I promise.”
The inmate accepted his hand, and they shook. “You one crazy motherfucker.”
Jonathan ended the conversation with a quick flick of a nod, and then he disappeared out the door into the night. The lock slid home immediately.
Two steps into the fresh air, Jonathan and Boxers together grabbed Jimmy Henry by his arms, bent him low, and more carried than pushed him to the van that Boxers had staged on the far curb. It was exactly the same maneuver that the Secret Service would use if a protectee was under fire.
The back doors were open and waiting. When they closed to within a few yards, Boxers broke off to slide behind the steering wheel while Jonathan half tossed, half slid their precious cargo onto the steel deck of the stripped-down van. He hadn’t even stopped tumbling before the van was rolling. As they turned the first corner, Jonathan leaned out to close the back door.
“That was awesome, dude!” Jimmy laughed. “I mean, really fuckin’ awesome. I thought for sure we were—”
“Shut up,” Jonathan barked.
Jimmy was only a silhouette in the dark, but Jonathan saw him rear back. “Christ, dude, you don’t—”
Jonathan grabbed the ankle of Jimmy’s orange jumpsuit and pulled, sliding the kid flat onto his back. Before the inmate could react, Jonathan fired a savage punch to his testicles, and the response was instant. The kid retched and curled himself into a tight ball. He was still struggling to regain his breath when Jonathan started wrapping Jimmy’s eyes with duct tape.
“Dude, what the fuck—?”
Jonathan clamped his hand over the kid’s mouth hard enough to loosen a tooth and pressed his head into the floor of the van. “Shut up, punk,” he hissed. “Just shut up until I tell you to talk. And I swear to God, if you call me ‘dude’ one more time,
“That true?” the inmate asked Jonathan.
Jonathan nodded. “Afraid so, yes.” He started moving toward the final door.
The inmate followed. “Antoine Johnson,” he said, offering his hand.
Jonathan stifled an ironic chuckle and shook the hand as he continued to walk down the hall. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m coming with you,” Antoine said.
“No, you’re not.” Jonathan answered without eye contact.
Antoine grabbed him by the biceps and jerked him to a halt. “I don’t think you heard me.”
This time, Jonathan’s eyes burned through the man’s brain. “Take your hands off of me,” he growled. “I appreciate your help, so I don’t want to hurt you.”
Antoine seemed to surprise himself as he let go and took a small step back. “C’mon, man. I don’t belong here. I’m innocent.”
“I’m sure you are,” Jonathan said. “But I’m only here for him.” He indicated Jimmy with a toss of his head.
The lock on the final door buzzed, and Jimmy reached for it. “Freeze,” Jonathan commanded. “Don’t move until I tell you.” He looked back to Antoine. “Do not follow us,” he said.
“How you gonna stop me?” He seemed to grow an inch as he tried to look menacing.
Jonathan took a step closer and lowered his voice nearly to a whisper. “If I see you on the other side of that door, I’ll kill you. You helped over there, and I appreciate it. Don’t make me kill you, Antoine.”
The inmate took a step back. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Wait for your cell door to open again and go back home.”
“Scorpion, we gotta go,” Boxers said.
“I’m on it,” Jonathan replied. He held out his hand to Antoine. “Thank you,” he said. “And good luck to you.”
Antoine looked at the hand as if it were something poisonous.
“Trust me,” Jonathan said. “Within the next twelve hours, you’re going to get a big laugh out of this.”
“Digger!” Venice barked in his earbud.
Antoine cocked his head. “A laugh, huh?”
Jonathan smiled. “I promise.”
The inmate accepted his hand, and they shook. “You one crazy motherfucker.”
Jonathan ended the conversation with a quick flick of a nod, and then he disappeared out the door into the night. The lock slid home immediately.
Two steps into the fresh air, Jonathan and Boxers together grabbed Jimmy Henry by his arms, bent him low, and more carried than pushed him to the van that Boxers had staged on the far curb. It was exactly the same maneuver that the Secret Service would use if a protectee was under fire.
The back doors were open and waiting. When they closed to within a few yards, Boxers broke off to slide behind the steering wheel while Jonathan half tossed, half slid their precious cargo onto the steel deck of the stripped-down van. He hadn’t even stopped tumbling before the van was rolling. As they turned the first corner, Jonathan leaned out to close the back door.
“That was awesome, dude!” Jimmy laughed. “I mean, really fuckin’ awesome. I thought for sure we were—”
“Shut up,” Jonathan barked.
Jimmy was only a silhouette in the dark, but Jonathan saw him rear back. “Christ, dude, you don’t—”
Jonathan grabbed the ankle of Jimmy’s orange jumpsuit and pulled, sliding the kid flat onto his back. Before the inmate could react, Jonathan fired a savage punch to his testicles, and the response was instant. The kid retched and curled himself into a tight ball. He was still struggling to regain his breath when Jonathan started wrapping Jimmy’s eyes with duct tape.
“Dude, what the fuck—?”
Jonathan clamped his hand over the kid’s mouth hard enough to loosen a tooth and pressed his head into the floor of the van. “Shut up, punk,” he hissed. “Just shut up until I tell you to talk. And I swear to God, if you call me ‘dude’ one more time,
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