Extreme Measures

Extreme Measures

Rachel Carrington

Copyright ©2013 Rachel Carrington

Cover Design by Elaina Lee of For The Muse Designs

www.forthemusedesigns.com

ISBN Not Assigned

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Chapter One

The guard’s heels clicked against the tiled floors, and his flashlight swung to and fro, illuminating the prisoners’ cells.

“Can you see him?”

Stuart waved his cell mate to be silent pressing his face against the cold, metal bars to follow the guard’s retreating back. Then, with a sigh of relief, he scooted back against the wall. “He’s gone.”

Arlin Murphy’s yellowed teeth flashed in the dim light of the fluorescent emergency lights. “You got the map?” Long and lean, he was more bone than muscle, and the added twitch under his eye gave him a gruesome appearance which always made Stuart look away. “Are you listening?”

Nerves made Stuart sweat. He mopped his brow and nodded. “Are you sure you got the right key?”

A chuckle followed. “Don’t worry. Good ole Hank was willing to give it up after I had a ‘talk’ with him.” The inflection in Arlin’s words indicated the conversation entailed much more than just a talk.

Stuart muttered something about his cellmate’s lack of intelligence under his breath and pushed himself to his feet. He hadn’t seen Hank around in a few days, so maybe he wouldn’t be found. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he demanded. “Did you kill him?”

Arlin slapped him on the shoulder and ignored the question. “Let’s just get going. We’ve got a long way to go to get out of those tunnels.”

“You think I don’t know that? Who’s been planning this escape for the last two years?”

“You know what I meant. How about taking a couple of deep breaths? I don’t wanna get my ass in a sling because you get all panicky out there.”

“When have you ever seen me panic?” Stuart's cold question silenced any further conversation.

The whoop of the sirens added the impetus they needed to pick up the pace. Stuart led the way, crawling through the tunnels underneath Attica prison with the godawful stench burning his nostrils.

Behind him he could hear Arlin’s labored breaths and urges to move faster. He sniffed and wished he’d taken the time to find another hit of snow before they’d gotten started. No telling how long it would be before he had another chance.

Dogs barked, and Stuart’s skin crawled. Would they make it? They had to. He’d spent the last three years of his life in this hellhole, and he wasn’t stopping until he saw daylight.

“Will you move?” Arlin barked, shoving his hand against the bottom of Stuart’s shoe.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Stuart shot back, his head bumping the top of the rusty tunnel. No doubt he was going to have to kill the little bastard before all of this was over.

The bloodhounds were closer, drawing in on their location. Even in the coolness of the dark, Stuart continued to sweat. His knuckles raw and bleeding, he scooted faster, desperation guiding him into the inky blackness.

Arlin’s breaths became more frantic. “They’re going to catch us!”

“Will you shut the hell up?”

“How did they know so soon?” Fear crept into the smaller man’s voice.

“Maybe they found Hank’s body,” Stuart snarled, resisting the urge to smash his foot into Arlin’s face.

His cellmate grew silent as the sounds of the dogs faded into the distance. “The stench kept them from smelling us.” Arlin’s voice, though tinged with relief, still shook.

The end of the tunnel loomed in sight, and Stuart trembled. Freedom was within his grasp.

And his sister, Erin, was right around the corner.

“How in the hell did
two
men escape from Attica?” Agent Matt Giles’ feet hit the carpeted floor beneath his desk. Reports long past due floated off the edge of the scarred wood. “It's been over forty years since the last bastard escaped, and that was before we had all this modern technology.”

Jacob Brandon, Matt’s superior, scratched the back of his head. Tall and muscular, he had the appearance of a disgruntled Doberman. The unibrow and a thick, bushy moustache only solidified the description. “Don’t know. The guards are still trying to figure it out, but in the meantime, we get the dubious pleasure of hunting the bastards down.”

Matt spared him a glance as he straightened the knot in his tie. “We? Don’t you mean me?” His boss might play the game, but Matt knew he was being sent on a one man mission.

White teeth flashed in a grin. “I was speaking metaphorically, of course.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, Matt released an explosive breath. “You really think you need me for this one? The US Marshalls are bound to catch them.” Even as he spoke, he shoved his arms into the jacket of his suit. Jacob hadn’t provided him the information because he was being given a choice.

“I think you’re going to want this one even though I shouldn’t be handing it to you.”

Matt’s heart quickened. His supervisor’s voice had undergone a change, and Matt had only heard it one time before. He looked up, pinned Jacob with a hard look. “You didn’t tell me the names of the guys who escaped.”

“The other guy isn’t going to matter to you. Stuart O’Malley will.”

The name slapped Matt back to the past, to a time when he’d had a wife to come home to at the end of a long, hard day. His hands clenched. “You think he’s going after Erin, don’t you?”

“She did testify against him.” Jacob plopped a bony hip on the corner of Matt’s desk. “And he did threaten her at the trial.”

Matt didn’t need the reminder. He’d been there, had lived through every single moment of his brother-in-law’s murder trial. Every day he’d held his wife’s hand while she’d been forced to endure the testimony, see the pictures of her parents’ murder. And he’d fully expected Erin to hate her brother for what he’d done. Instead, she’d blamed the drugs, had wanted an alternate solution besides prison. Had asked Matt for his help.

“And there is one more thing. Guards took a picture inside Stuart’s cell. Take a look.” Jacob opened a file Matt hadn’t even seen and handed him an 8x10 that dried all the saliva from his mouth.

“She’s all he’s been thinking about.” Matt ran his hands across the words etched in a circular pattern on the stone walls.
Kill Erin.
It had been repeated so precisely until the swirls blended together.

“Yeah, they found it behind a calendar. Matt?” Jacob waved a hand in front of his face. “I know this is tough, but I’m going to give you the choice here. If you don’t want to go down this road, I understand.”

“I’ll do it.” Matt wouldn’t trust anyone else. He had to protect Erin. Though their marriage had disintegrated a long time ago, his love for her hadn’t. Forgetting for a moment his boss remained in the room, Matt removed his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and retrieved a picture he kept behind a credit card.

The photo was frayed at the edges, the image smudged a little from repeated fingerprints. How many times had he looked at this picture? His gaze dropped to the beauty captured by the lens. Long, straight auburn hair shined in the sunlight, and crystal clear sapphire-blue eyes crinkled in a smile which carried to her glossy full lips.

Jacob’s hand dropped to his shoulder, startling him. “I’m sorry. This is going to be a tough one.”

Tough? Matt doubted that was the right adjective considering he and Erin hadn’t spoken since the divorce four years ago. And the last conversation hadn’t exactly been civil. He was the last person she’d want to see, but the one person she’d have to put up with until he took Stuart O’Malley back into custody.

Matt didn’t take his eyes off the image of his ex-wife. “I doubt anyone else could handle Erin.”

“You know she’s going to give you a hard time.”

“She always did.”

“I’m sure you already know where she is.” Jacob straightened and whipped an envelope out of the front pocket of his coat.

“Back in Charleston.” Matt hadn’t been surprised when Erin had retreated to her family’s old hometown on the East Coast.

Jacob handed him the envelope. “You’re booked on a flight tonight at ten. They’ve got a tropical storm off the coast, so be careful.”

“The tropics are the least of my concern.” Matt locked his desk and pocketed the key.

“Stay in touch and let me know if you need any help.”

Matt’s sensors went on high alert. “You mean because of Erin?”

Jacob looked away.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“You don’t have a lot of time before we need to alert the mayor. Once that happens, you know there’s bound to be panic.”

“Perfect.” Matt strode toward the door of his office and flung it open. “How much time?”

“If he’s going to Charleston, he should make it there in a couple of days at the latest. If he’s like any of the other bastards we’ve caught, he’ll lay low for a while until he thinks it’s safe to travel. At any rate, we’ve got seventy-two hours before we’re obligated to brief the mayor.”

“O’Malley will be in custody long before then.”

“I like your self-confidence.”

Matt didn’t tell his boss it wasn’t self-confidence as much as self-preservation. The last thing he needed was to spend one minute more than he absolutely had to with Erin.

“You think I can get some more coffee over here, Erin?” Jerry Lambry tapped his coffee cup for good measure.

With a smile for her most loyal customer, Erin Prescott lifted the coffee pot from the burner and strolled toward him. “Why, certainly, Jerry. Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s been a busy morning.”

He swiped his greasy baseball cap off his head and gave her a sloppy grin. “Oh, shoot, Erin. You know I’m only teasing ya.” His sparse hair stood on end. “When are you going to let me take you to dinner?”

Erin’s smile faded. A date was the last thing she wanted. Since she’d returned to her hometown of Charleston, South Carolina, she’d had ample opportunity for male companionship, but none that interested her. She didn’t have the time or the energy to expend on another relationship. Or desire, for that matter.

But Jerry wanted an answer. “Oh, you know me, Jerry. I don’t make a habit out of dating customers.”

“Is that all it takes to get a date with you then? Just change where I get my coffee? Cause if that’s the case, I’ll start going to Starbucks.”

That brought a chuckle from Erin. With a goofy grin and a congenial attitude, Jerry was always good for a laugh. She poured more coffee into his cup, and the heat steamed his glasses. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He looked up at her and winked.

She moved further up the counter, easing away from the hungry look in his eyes.

Every morning started out the same way. Jerry asked for a date, and she refused him. And each evening ended the same. She read a book before falling asleep with the lights on. She preferred it that way. Sleeping with the lights on. Sometimes the glow of the lamp helped prevent the nightmares.

The bell over the door jingled, signaling yet another customer in the rush of the early morning. A glance at the clock told Erin it was only a little past nine, and since Sara, her assistant, had called in sick that morning, she was on her own.

She managed to fix a smile on her face as she turned to greet the customer. A thousand emotions zipped through her brain when she got a good look at him. Matt. Her ex-husband and a man she never thought she’d see again.

His presence registered like a kick to the stomach. What in the hell was he doing here? Behind her, she could still hear the buzz of conversation, the dripping of fresh coffee into the pot, but the rest of her senses were tuned to the man she’d shared a life with for eight years. He stood less than three feet away from her, his shoulders obliterating the glass door behind him.

“Hello, Erin.”

She twisted the towel she held into knots.
“Matt. What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” The dark sunglasses covering his eyes prevented her from reading his expression. He strolled toward the counter much like a panther stalked his prey.

She might have known she could never get so far away from him that he couldn’t find her. Not that running had been her only reason to return to Charleston. But she had wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible after the divorce. And it had worked for the past four years.