Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

A loud clank on the door woke Emily from her nightmare, delivering her into another.

"Get up. You have a visitor," said a deep voice just outside her open cell door.

Emily rubbed her eyes. "Visitor?"

"Hurry up. Ain't got all day." The guard's tag read Hellman. He was a thin man with a dangerous glint in his dark eyes.

"What time is it?" Emily asked.

"Two."

"In the afternoon?" She'd slept an entire day?

"At night. Now move the fuck out of there."

Emily swallowed the dry lump in her throat. This couldn't be good. Not that she'd been told the visitation rules, but it wasn't a huge leap to say that late night visits weren't standard protocol.

"Who wants to see me?" she asked.

"You have five seconds to get your ass out here, or I'm closing the door."

Could it be Olivia? Or one of the other operators? Had they paid someone to get in here?

Emily couldn't risk losing this chance to tell someone she was here. She got up and exited into the hallway, following the guard down a long corridor. Funny how they never handcuffed her. Was it because there was nowhere to run? Or perhaps it was because they could shoot her at any time and claim she'd escaped her cell.

The man placed her in an empty room with only one door. She waited, pacing back and forth, gnawing on her thumbnail. Who was here to see her?

Suddenly, the door opened, and a set of pale gray eyes greeted her.

Charge? Rage exploded from deep inside, and she lunged at him. "Fucking asshole!" She swung her fist, missing his face. He turned her around and captured her in a bear hug from behind. She kicked and screamed, but it was no use. She was weak, hungry, and tired. He was not, despite his injuries.

"Why, Charge?" She began to cry.

"If you calm down, I'll explain."

She relaxed her body, and he let her go. She scrambled to the wall, pushing her back to it.

"What the fuck, Charge?" She whisked a tear from her eye, noticing he wore a blue dress shirt and navy slacks. His beard had been trimmed, too. This was not his usual look of jeans and snug T-shirts.

"I know what you're thinking," he said.

Did he? Because she was thinking if she had a weapon right now, she'd kill him. "How could you stab me in the back like this? I saved your life. I went through hell for you."

"That's why I paid a substantial amount of money to have you brought here."

Emily blinked. "You paid to have me starved and deprived of water?"

He looked down at his leather shoes. "I didn't know about that."

Huh?

He added, "There's a price on your head, Emily. Mine, too. Ten million each."

She sucked in a hard, cold breath. That was a shit ton of money. Still, that didn't help explain why she was here.

"So you fucking had me arrested and locked up?" She seethed.

"No. I had it look like you were arrested; then I had you taken here with fake paperwork."

"I don't understand."

"This is the only facility in the country where active cartel members aren't allowed. Managing them takes twice the staff, since they're notorious for breaking out, and this place already deals with the most violent criminals in the country."

"I'm sorry, but did you just say that you sent me to the most dangerous prison in the US?" Was he insane?

"It was the only safe place I could find on short notice."

This place wasn't safe! "They've been trying to get me to drink poisoned water from a toilet. They give me tainted food to eat and urine to drink. I haven't had a shower since I got here. The only reason I'm still breathing is because I bribed a guard into giving me water."

Charge ran a hand through his dark hair. "Yeah, I know about the deal you made with her, and it's caused a big problem."

A problem? Still being alive was a problem?

He continued, "I paid for Emily Wilson to be very publicly arrested so the cartel would know you were no longer on the run, but in custody. I figured you wouldn't put up a fight if the arrest was for killing a federal agent. You'd assume the mess had something to do with Ed.

"Then I had you transported here in secret and had your paperwork—under the name of Justine Hays—show you'd already gone to trial and confessed to the violent murder of a cop. No one is looking for Justine Hays ." He sighed with remorse. "You were to be remanded to isolation due to your violent nature. The staff was supposed to believe you were just another murderer, already processed by the system. But I didn't know that the warden is corrupt, nor that the treatment you're getting is standard for prisoners who kill cops, federal agents, etc. Apparently, the warden's brother was a sheriff and murdered." He exhaled sharply. "I should've done my homework. It was a miss on my part, and I'm sorry."

Charge was notoriously thorough. It wasn't like him to overlook something like this. Did that mean he was telling the truth about the urgency of his decision?

"So…you didn't send me here to die?" she asked.

"No. Like I said, this prison is the one place the cartel wouldn't find you. I made sure there was no paper trail for Emily Wilson. And after ensuring your arrest went viral, the cartel immediately got the word out to find the facility you were taken to and have you killed. Eventually, they would come up empty-handed and assume you'd gone into witness protection—likely turning against me. They'd stop looking at that point and simply wait for you to resurface in whichever trial you were going to testify in."

Fucking Charge. This was so like him. He never did simple. He went the extra mile to make every plan impossibly complicated. On the other hand, his plans were generally well thought out to achieve the goal with maximum certainty. In this case, it was to hide her so well, no one would ever find her.

"Why not just tell me what was up, Charge? I could've found my own way to hide out and—"

"No. You are not trained to disappear. Not like I am. And I knew you'd never agree to my plan, nor could I risk you being caught while I work on taking out the people who put prices on our heads."

"People? As in plural?" she asked.

"The Heroin King has an army now. And they are all looking for you. For us ."

"Wonderful."

"But for better or worse, my plan to keep you out of their reach didn't work. Good job getting the word out about your situation via the florist site," he said sarcastically.

She would've died in here if she hadn't. "I've had one bottle of water in three days. I haven't eaten, bathed, or—"

"That message you posted for Olivia went out to the entire group and told them where you are."

"That was the point."

"Well, we must have traitors in suite forty-five, Emily, because that information was passed to the Heroin King. It's just a matter of time before they find a guard willing to kill you. You have to get out of here."

Um. No shit. "Then get me out. Tell your friends who put me in here that I didn't kill a cop."

"That's the thing. I can't. I paid a lot of people to stick their necks out and make it look like you're just another inmate. Undoing it will take time. Weeks. Maybe a month. Something you don't have."

Fuck. "Are you kidding right now? What am I supposed to do?"

He scratched the side of his head, avoiding eye contact. "You need to kill a guard. I've selected one already."

Her heart stopped. "What?"

"And you have to do it fast."

"Why do I need to kill a guard?" she asked.

"Because you will claim the cartel ordered you to do the hit."

"Charge, I can't just kill someone—"

"It's the only way to save your life, Emily. You'll be immediately transported to another prison until you stand trial for killing the guard because active cartel criminals, which you will become after the hit, are not allowed here. And when they transfer you, I will break you out—something I cannot do here. Security is too tight."

"Charge. No. I can't have a murder conviction following me my entire life."

He stepped up close to her, his lips flat, his eyes hard. "You came back to El Paso after you left the first time. You knew the life you were choosing, Emily."

It was the sort of life where it didn't matter if she had a murder conviction, especially because killing was their business. This was a life outside the law, where the only thing that determined if you were good or bad was your moral code. If you killed bad people, you were a good guy. If you killed criminals who sold deadly drugs, you were a good guy. If you killed people who enslaved children and women for sex, you were definitely good.

"I get what you're saying, Charge, but I can't murder an innocent guard just to save myself." That would be crossing the line.

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it. Inside was the name Roberts. "What's this?"

"The guard who's on shift tomorrow for visitational escorts is Roberts. I believe you already know her."

Roberts was the guard she'd bribed to get the message posted on the web.

Charge added, "Roberts has a thing for torturing and raping inmates in this prison. You'd be doing the world a favor."

Emily's eyes stared at the name. "Why the hell is she going around raping and torturing women here?" Jesus.

"Warden Mitchel, as I've recently discovered, is a psychopath. He hires likeminded people who don't have issues with harming inmates. He also uses their indiscretions as leverage to keep them compliant."

"Charge, how could you put me in here?" She dropped her head and rubbed her brow.

"The warden has done a very thorough job of silencing the prisoners and making any deaths look like your standard inmate violence. He has complete control over this place. If I'd had more time to vet a solution, I would have uncovered the truth about him. Hell, I probably would have found a much better place to hide you to begin with."

Shit. So the warden hired serial killers and rapists. Emily was already terrified of being here, but this was way worse. "Can't you get me out right now? Bribe someone to sneak me out?"

"The best I could do was call in a favor from a friend, who told the warden I'm with a private group interested in renting out the inmates. That's why I'm here so late."

Rent? "I'm not following."

Charge raised a brow. "Rent. As in providing services."

"Sex?" she whispered.

"Not the consensual type, but yes."

She was going to be sick. They loaned out the inmates to be violated. What a bunch of assholes.

"They think I'm trying out the goods right now," he added. "I asked for someone who wouldn't put up a fight, someone who deserved to be punished."

Her face went pallid. "You mean, they think you're raping me?"

"Yes. Do you understand now, Emily? You need to kill that guard. You need to get out of here."

She understood that she was in a fuck ton of trouble, and it was Charge who put her here. "What's to say they won't kill me after I take out this guard?"

"Tomorrow, there'll be a team of lawyers here—the do-gooder types—who are trying to get one of the inmates a new trial. My friend has arranged for the lawyers to request a visit with you, too."

"Why?"

"They've been led to believe you have exculpatory evidence for their client. Roberts is on the schedule tomorrow, which is why I vetted her for you—someone I know deserves to die. When she brings you to see them, you will kill her in front of the lawyers. You'll tell them you're a cartel hit man—"

"Hit woman."

Charge ignored her correction. "And you won't stand for being rented out for sex. You'll tell them it's beneath you to be treated like a common whore."

"I'm sorry, but the plan is to have me brag about killing people? After killing someone? And then make it sound like I'm upset for not getting the proper respect for my profession?"

"Yes. And your life depends on selling the story. They are the sorts of lawyers who will want to use the incident as proof that the prison is not being run properly. They'll immediately file with the court to get you—their key witness—under protection and moved. The warden will have no grounds to deny the request because you will have provided hard evidence that you are exactly what you say: a cartel hit man. Woman. Whatever. And as I've already said, this facility is unauthorized to hold any kind of active members—ones who have pull within their organizations."

This was a lot. "How can you be so sure it's going to play out like that, Charge?"

He gave her a poignant look. It meant he'd already made sure it would. Maybe someone on that legal team owed him a favor or had been bought off.

"What happens to me in the meantime, before I'm transferred?"

"Right now, I'll make sure you're fed and get clean water and a shower. After that, you just have to do your best to stay alive for twenty-four hours."

"How?" Because after she took out Roberts, they weren't going to bake her a cake.

Charge gave her a stern look. "You're going to play the part of a cartel hit man. You're about to take out a target on their list. Use that. Remind the warden and other guards who they're fucking with. It's not just you. It's who you work for, and those people don't fuck around. They're the types who go after families, friends, and assets."

No, Emily wasn't working for the cartel, but if they all thought she was, and she had gotten to one of the guards, it would scare the hell out of the others. Maybe. "So you want me to tell them they're next if they touch me."

"Tell them their children and spouses are next. Remind them that there's nowhere to hide. Tell them that the guard you killed was the target, and now that it's over, to stay out of it."

Emily whooshed out a long breath. She couldn't believe this was happening. I can't believe Charge did this to me . She had no words for how messed up this was. But dealing with Charge or his rationale would have to wait.

"My time is up. Take this." He handed her a plastic pen.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's the only thing I could get past their metal detectors."

"Am I supposed to give the guard a good inking?"

"Use your imagination, Emily. You only need one sharp point aimed at the right spot on the neck. Now come closer."

"Why?"

"Because I need to make it look like I just fucked you," he said.

"You mean raped me."

He looked away. "This isn't easy for me."

Easy for him? She seethed. "Well, I'm sorry about the smell, Charge, but some asshole put me in a third world prison."

"We both know that's not what I meant, Justine." He'd used her legal name.

"Don't call me that. Justine is dead."

He leaned down, grabbed her face, and kissed her. She froze, not expecting it. It was a gentle kiss. Warm, kind, soothing.

She was about to pull away, but he did it first. Then he backhanded her cheek, sending her onto the cement floor with a hard thump.

"You're worthless, Justine. You're nothing without me."

He used the words Ed had spoken the last time he beat her. How did Charge know? Because he'd been scoping out Ed, preparing to take him down, and had been spying on them from a house across the street. Charge had seen and heard everything.

The painful memories flooded back. The fear, the hopelessness, the rage.

Emily lay there, her body shaking with pain. Charge stood over her and tore open her orange shirt.

"Wait. Stop!" she yelled, trying to push him off.

He went for her pants, ripping them at the seam on the side until her pants came down most of the way. "Stop!"

"Shut up, Justine. One more word, one more sound, and I'll make you wish you were never born. Got it?" Ed's words.

Charge pounded on the door. Emily sobbed, her mind going back to those memories of her ex. She'd been so weak, so terrified of him.

The guard with the cold eyes, Hellman, entered. He took one look at her trembling body on the floor and smiled.

"Looks like you had a good time," he said to Charge, who was pretending to button up his pants.

"I like it when they scream," Charge said.

"Don't I know it," replied Hellman.

That one. I'm going to kill that one, too, Emily thought.

"Make sure she's cleaned up, fed, and given plenty of exercise," Charge said. "I like her face, but she needs more meat on her bones. Helps them take the punches better."

"Yes, sir," replied Hellman.

"I want her and the five others I discussed with the warden for next week. I'm having a fundraiser." Charge looked at Emily and blew her a kiss. "See you soon, sweetheart." He disappeared out of sight.

Emily palmed the pen Charge had given her.

"Get up." Hellman jerked his head at her.

She slowly got to her feet, pulling the front of her shirt closed with one hand while holding up her torn pants with the other. Her heart was racing, half of it fighting off Ed in her mind, the other half in the here and now, wanting to tear out Charge's throat for doing that. Yes, it had been to make it look legit. Yes, it had been to save her life. But did he have to hit her or use Ed's exact words?

She didn't know whom she wanted to kill more: Charge, the warden, this disgusting guard Hellman, or Roberts.

She slowly trudged by Hellman. He took her by the elbow, and she jerked it away. "Don't touch me."

Hellman laughed. "Looks like he fucked you hard. Guess he likes 'em dirty."

She glared, almost daring him to touch her again.

He leaned in slowly, placing them nose to nose. "I like 'em dirty, too. After he's done with you next week, I'll be visiting every day, cop killer." He licked his thin lips.

"Why wait?" she snarled, gripping her pen. Of course, she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to escape this prison. It had to be Roberts who went down in front of the lawyers.

He reached out and stroked the raw spot on her cheek where Charge had hit her. "Greedy for more cock. Such a trashy little cunt." He dropped his hand. "But you need to be in good working condition for our customers." He pushed her out in the hallway, noticing a tall blonde guard approaching. "Back to your cell, inmate."

Hellman was suddenly acting professional.

"Hey, Hellman," said the blonde, whose badge read Summers. "What happened to her?"

"She's an animal is what happened. Attacked Debbie earlier today. We locked her in the quiet room, and I guess the day shift forgot to get her out."

Summers looked at Emily's wrists. "You might want to cuff her, Hellman."

"She ain't going nowhere. Got enough tranqs in her to kill a rhino." Hellman grabbed Emily's elbow while she tried to keep her clothes from falling off.

"I'll take her back to her cell," Summers said. "You have a call waiting in the break room."

Hellman gave Emily a stern look—a warning to keep her mouth shut. "You behave for Summers here, cop killer."

Emily stared back with hatred.

Hellman looked at Summers. "The nurse said to schedule her for a shower first thing in the morning. Oh, and bring her some food and clean water."

"Now?"

"Yeah. From the back fridge in the kitchen. She said she hasn't been eating, and the drugs will wear off soon. Feed her now while she's too high to make a fucking stink about it." Hellman, the bastard, looked at Emily. "You're hungry, aren't you, cop killer?"

Emily snarled, "Yes."

"There. You see." Hellman walked away.

"Did he do that to you?" Summer's eyes swept across Emily's face.

It was nice to see that not all the guards here were sadistic rapists, but Emily wasn't going to deviate from the plan. "No. I…did it to myself in that room."

"And your clothes?" she asked.

"That too."

Summers sighed, not buying a word of it. "If he or one of the guards hurts you, you need to say something. Inmates are here to pay for their crimes, not to become victims of more crimes. If you deserve more suffering, that's up to the courts. Not us."

Emily felt her insides calming. She could tell Summers was a kind woman. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm okay, but I appreciate the concern."

Summers shook her head. "Come on. Let's get you to your cell."