Chapter 4

Keelan

D espite the nurse recommending I go to the hospital immediately, the prison delayed my departure until the following day. By doing so, it put my condition at risk.

It was nearly sunrise when two officers escorted me to the bus. As we walked toward the loading dock, I doubled over, panting. Thanks to the sweltering heat in solitary, it helped drench my clothes in sweat. Once inside, they handcuffed me to the seat, and the officers sat both in front and behind me. The door slid shut, and the bus driver pulled the vehicle toward the main gates. Although I had worked this plan out to perfection, regardless of the delay, there was a nervous twitch in my gut. If someone fucked up or became afraid and confessed, they would leave me to rot in that damned cage.

A glance revealed two other inmates seated at the back, and we exchanged a look before I turned my head away. The main gates slowly opened, and the bus rumbled through. I carefully exhaled as we departed the prison and headed toward the highway that would take us to the hospital. Once we passed the bottom of the mountain, the total travel time was about thirty minutes.

I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes, my hand still gripping my right side to sell the lie. I heard a shuffle against the seat as the officer in front of me turned around, and I cracked an eye open.

“Blake, when we get to the hospital parking lot, I’ll run in and grab some security guards to help me get you inside. Bradshaw will be with you during the examination.”

Sitting behind me, Officer Bradshaw tapped on the back of my seat, letting me know that’s who the officer was referring to. I gave a curt nod, and one of the inmates began to hum a soft tune. I felt myself relax a little.

Only ten more minutes. It’ll happen in ten minutes.

The Burbank State Penitentiary was on top of a mountain overlooking the city, so the bus had to navigate down a switchback road before reaching the highway. There were several checkpoints along the way, and after we passed the final one, the driver pulled the bus to the right lane, which took us on a shorter route and avoided rush hour traffic.

Opening my eyes, I shifted to the window and looked ahead at the road. As we crested the hill, I spotted a black SUV parked on the shoulder near an adjacent suburban neighborhood. A smirk pulled on my lips.

It’s showtime.

The ambush would happen quickly, and once the people in those nearby houses heard the commotion, they would call the cops. When we passed the SUV, there was a loud pop, and the bus began leaning to the right. Instantly, the guards started cursing while I held onto the bar they attached my handcuffs to. The bus then swerved and hit the curb before rolling into a grassy field and coming to a jarring halt.

“Everyone, stay put!” Bradshaw shouted from behind me. He got up and walked to the front.

“Where the fuck would we go, Bradshaw?” I replied, rattling my cuffs against the bar.

I knew the spike strip had done its job, shredding all four tires, but they would realize within minutes that it was more than a nail. As the bus doors opened, Bradshaw reacted swiftly, pulling out his pistol and jumping out while I settled in my seat, ready. Bradshaw’s yelp rang out before a loud thud, and I heard boots against the concrete. The noise grew louder before a hooded man entered the bus and fired two shots into the driver’s head, killing him instantly. Fuck . The men Byron hired were only supposed to injure the cops.

The officer ahead jumped into the aisle, ready to fire his gun. But I lifted my left leg and slammed my heel into the side of his knee. There was a sickening crunch as tendons tore and his kneecap dislocated. The officer screamed and fell onto the floor, dropping his gun. As he scrambled for it, the hooded man strode toward him and stomped on his outstretched hand, breaking the bones. When the gunman looked at me, I shook my head, reminding him what his duties were.

The gunman lifted his weapon, and I turned away, avoiding the blood splatter as the bullet shattered the officer’s knee completely. One more shot destroyed the walkie-talkie that had fallen to the floor.

Though my goal was to escape, I didn’t need dead cops on my record if I were to get caught .

“Oh, fuck!” one inmate shouted from behind me.

Once the officer inside the bus was down, the hooded man grabbed the handcuff keys from his belt strap and unlocked my cuffs. “Thanks,” I said.

I had no fucking clue who my uncle had sent, and it would stay that way. The less I knew about this man, the easier it would be to keep our identities safe.

“What about them?” the man asked, pointing to the two inmates from behind me. The inmate with the bright green eyes was in the cell across from me, serving a ten-year sentence for petty theft and arson. The other one, a bald man with pale skin and dark brown eyes, had hurt children.

“Take that bald one out and release the other guy.”

I moved past the hooded man and exited the bus while two more gunshots rang from inside. Bradshaw lay prone on the grass, a nasty bump on his forehead. I took a moment to breathe and glanced at the open space around me.

It was my first time seeing the outside world in over a year. However, the faint sound of sirens echoing in the mountain broke my reverie, and I knew we had to move.

I ran to the SUV and hopped in the back. The hitman followed and sat in the passenger seat, signaling the driver to go. Instead of accelerating, he took the wise approach of moving into the road slowly to avoid tire marks.

Once we were clear, the driver sped off, leaving behind a bloody scene in a cloud of smoke and dust.