3. Emory

3

EMORY

" H old up."

I stop just inside the Platinum Security office while Cole steps out onto the street. He cranes his neck this way and that, steely eyed gaze taking in everything. Only after he checks and re-checks the scene several times does he motion for me to come outside.

"All right, let's go. Did you drive yourself here today?"

"No, I used a ride service. I was worried about being followed in my own car."

Cole nods sagely. I have a hard time getting a read on him. Like many former-military men, he keeps his emotional cards close to his chest.

One thing I know for sure: He's qualified, and then some. Highly decorated, a combat veteran, and one of the more intimidating specimens I've seen. Not just because of his muscles, or the sleeves of tattoos with frightening iconography. It's just in the way he stands, the way he walks, and the fire in his gaze.

This is not a man to be trifled with. I'm glad he's on my side.

"Smart move," he says, breaking me out of my reverie. "My truck is parked right over there."

My eyes follow his gesture to a dirt-streaked, late model pickup. One of those with the enormous wheels and lots of extra chrome. Cole opens the door for me and I climb up inside. He shuts the door and crosses in front of the truck on his way to the driver's side.

"So, how does this work?" I ask. "Are you going to be with me everywhere I go?"

"That's exactly how it works. I'll be watching over you night and day until Lovejoy is behind bars or otherwise dealt with."

"Otherwise dealt with?" I give him a long, hard look. "Are you going to kill him?"

"If I have to," he says without hesitation or a trace of bravado. Like I asked him if he wanted cream with his coffee instead of ending the life of another human being.

He turns the engine over. We rumble out onto the street, traveling for half a mile before I realize I missed something.

"Um, where are we going?"

"I'm going to take you home, eventually, though that may not be where we wind up staying."

"You're going the wrong way."

He glances over at me briefly, his dark brown eyes glinting with intensity. He's handsome…okay, he's hot as Hell, but that aura about him makes the scrutiny more frightening than exciting.

"Sorry. I should have mentioned we're making a stop first."

"Where?"

"Domingo Private Penitentiary. The place Lovejoy just broke out of."

"Why? I mean, sure, that's the one place he would never go to find me, but…we're not staying at the prison, are we?"

Cole shakes his head, eyes glued to the road as we hit heavier downtown traffic.

"No. I just want to take a look around, maybe talk to some people."

"And they'll let you do that? Just waltz in? I mean, you're not even a cop. No offense."

"None taken. I served on the same SEAL team with the warden's son. He agreed to let me come and poke around a little."

I chuckle, and he gives me a look.

"Why is that funny?"

I hold up my hand quickly.

"Oh, um, it's not funny ha ha, just funny peculiar that someone in your line of work also networks. I network all the time. It's how I get most of my gigs."

I realize I'm rambling and shut up. Damn, he is so, so very good-looking. I'm not sure if I want all that intensity directed at me twenty-four hours a day…but I'd kind of like to find out.

"How long have you been a civilian?"

"Not long."

"That explains a lot."

A deep frown etches itself on Cole's face, but he doesn't look my way or speak. Great, I've offended the award-winning SEAL responsible for my life. I try to think of something else to say, but nothing sounds any better in my head. I wind up just sitting there in silence while we roll out of downtown.

I guess the silence is getting to Cole too, because after a while he turns to me and arches his brows.

"Would you like to turn on the radio? I have satellite, no commercials. The dashboard tablet will let you find whatever you want to listen to."

"Yeah, okay."

I shuffle through the various genre stations, glancing over at him.

"Do you have any objections to pop?"

"No, not really."

"What kind of music do you like?"

"Whatever."

Okay, he asked for it. I put on the dance pop station, and the first thing that comes on is Boys R Us' new song, The Pledge.

If the music bothers Cole, he gives no sign. I sing along to the song, because in my mind I'm working on a simulation of the choreography. I really hope that TJ pulls it together, because if not we'll have our work cut out for us.

Cole is lost in his own head. I kind of want to get to know him better, but I don't want to bother him. His intensity breeds a certain caution inside of me.

Part of my mind is still practical. It admonishes me for worrying about Cole when Julian could be lurking around any corner. I start craning my neck to look behind us. It's hard to see the other drivers clearly. Any one of them could be Julian or his accomplices, trailing behind us.

"What are you doing?" Cole asks.

"I guess I'm worried that we're being followed."

"Oh. That's not how you go about it."

I turn to face him and frown.

"I'm not supposed to look?"

"Not like that. If there is someone following you, they'll know that you're suspicious. You check the rearview and the side view mirrors instead."

I check the mirrors like he says. It's a little easier to see the drivers this way, but I still can't make much detail out.

"I still can't see much."

"If a car's following you, they don't do things that stick out. They'll try to blend in."

I groan in frustration. "Then how am I supposed to find them? Especially if I'm not supposed to look over my shoulder."

Cole arches his brows and glances my way before answering.

"A tail will usually try to stay two to three cars behind you. You can make them reveal themselves by suddenly changing lanes or making an exit without signaling, but you might force their hand. It's better to play the long game and let your tail think they're still unseen."

"How do you do that without freaking out?"

Cole shrugs. "It takes practice. Do you see anything unusual?"

"Um, there's a blue Honda that's been behind us for a while."

"I noticed it, too. If they take the next exit with us it might be a cause for concern. Good eye."

I'm glad he takes my concern seriously. We make the exit, but the Honda does not follow and I relax at last.

When we reach the private prison, my face twists into a rueful sneer. It looks more like a country club than a penitentiary, if you ignore the barbed wire fence running around the perimeter. Apparently, Cole thinks the same way I do.

"Can't see why he would want to escape from this place."

"I know, right?" I laugh, but it isn't that funny. "Club Fed at its finest. Of course, he got sent to a luxury private prison."

We roll up to the gate, and a guard comes over to the driver's side. Cole shows his ID.

"Cole Drake, here to see Warden Miller. I'm expected."

The guard ducks inside the pillbox, speaks briefly on a phone, and then comes back, handing Cole his ID.

"All right, Sir, please proceed along this road and take a left at the hairpin drive. You'll be met by your escort there."

Cole drives as directed, passing by a group of inmates working diligently in a gorgeous flower garden. Most of them are Hollywood heavy hitters who broke the law one too many times to avoid the inside of a prison.

Sort of like my ex, come to think about it.

Cole parks the truck in the designated visitor's area. An older man in a plain but well-tailored suit comes out to join us, the sun shining off his bald pate.

The man's face splits in a wide smile when he sees Cole. He vigorously shakes Cole's hand.

"So nice to finally meet you in person. John goes on and on about you. Says you saved his life on the Red Sea."

"I'm sure he's returned the favor multiple times. Thanks for letting us take a look."

"No problem. I've had Lovejoy's wing vacated for the afternoon. We need to buff the floors, anyway."

The windows are sturdily locked, and the doors are metal with electronic means of opening and closing. Other than that, this could be a major university or public library. Hardwood floors, fancy paintings on the walls, and soft classical music wafting from overhead speakers.

We are led past rooms where inmates engage in painting, music, even martial arts training. The last one really irks me. Like, these men need to be made MORE dangerous before going back into public life.

Warden Miller takes us to the "cellblock" where Julian had been kept. It looks like a luxury resort, but for the bars on the windows.

Then we see his room, and my jaw hits the floor. The walls are plastered with photos of me, most of them clearly printed off the internet. It's so unsettling, I can't enter the cell. I lean my back against the wall in the hallway and try not to hyperventilate.

"Are you okay?" Cole asks.

"I'll be fine, just give me a minute."

Cole turns to the warden.

"How could you allow Lovejoy to do this to his cell?" The ice in his tone matches his gaze.

"I, um, this is actually the first time I've seen it," the Warden admits. "But the inmates are free to decorate their cells, so long as they don't put up anything obscene or offensive."

Cole shakes his head. "Considering Lovejoy's obsession with my client, this is pretty god damn obscene."

Cole enters the cell. My curiosity overcomes my apprehension, and I join him. Cole pokes around everywhere, peering intently at every inch of the room.

"Do you know how the prisoner escaped?" Cole asks.

"I'm afraid we're still investigating that. We only know that he managed to stow away in the garbage truck that came to empty our dumpster."

Cole glances over at Miller, his eyes boring into the man.

"So you never noticed the map?"

Miller frowns. "What map?"

"This one."

Cole lifts up the photos of me, pulling the bottom section away from the wall. He reveals a series of black and white lines, moving in perpendicular patterns.

"What is that?" Miller asks.

"My guess, this is a map of the HVAC system. Can I see the actual schematic?"

Miller stares at the wall, then curses up a storm.

"Damn it. Someone is getting fired over this. All right, Cole. I'll give you the keys to the kingdom, so to speak, as long as you help me figure out how this son of a bitch got out."

Miller takes us to his office, located in the admin building. I'm more than happy to get away from the orgy of photos in Julian's cell. I knew he had mental issues, but seeing all of that…it makes me even more afraid.

Thank god I have a one-man army to keep me safe. Cole couldn't be more different than Julian. Julian is all about emotions–he calls it passion–and changes his mind on a whim. Cole is patient. Methodical. The only thing the two of them really have in common is their intensity.

But while Julian has an insane, unsettling intensity, I don't find Cole to be off-putting at all. Quite the opposite. His intensity only makes me want to know him even more.

Which could be a problem, since he's supposed to be my bodyguard.

In the office, Miller shows Cole the schematics for the prison HVAC system. Cole studies them, and then looks over at Miller.

"Who did Lovejoy escape with?"

Miller frowns. "Nobody. He's the only escapee."

"That's impossible. See this section? It's too narrow to use a ladder, but too high for one man on his own to reach the top."

"Maybe Lovejoy had a rope?"

"There's nothing to secure it to. He must have had help."

Miller stares hard at Cole for a long time. Cole doesn't so much as blink. Miller then picks up a phone and dials.

"Frank? I need a head count."

His frown deepens.

"All of them. All the cellblocks. No, I'm not kidding. ASAP! We might have more than one escapee, god damn it!"

It takes about half an hour for their head count. When Miller comes back into the office, I can tell from the look on his face Cole was right.

"I can't believe this has happened. Two other inmates escaped at the same time as Lovejoy."

"How is that even possible?" I sputter. "I mean, without anyone knowing?"

Miller's eyes narrow to dangerous slits.

"Some of our own people were helping them. They forged checklists and computer logs, while pretending the missing inmates were in the infirmary."

Cole scowls. "I'd like to talk to these guards."

"Me too," Miller growls. "Unfortunately, none of them showed up for work today. It's looking like Lovejoy paid them off."

I don't know how I should feel about all of this. I know I should be angry with the prison, or with the people who helped Julian escape. But it just seems like they're all set dressing. The important thing is my stalker Ex escaped, and could be coming after me.

In a way, I guess I almost saw this day as inevitable, from the time I filled out the first restraining order.

"If the guards are a no-go, can I see the files on the men that Lovejoy escaped with?"

Warden Miller slides behind his desk and taps on his keyboard for a moment, then clicks the mouse. A second later, papers begin humming out of the printer.

"Lovejoy's accomplices are just as dangerous as he is," Miller says as Cole peruses the files. "Glen Banner, PhD. Former chemist at Berkley, until he was convicted of poisoning his ex-wife and her new family."

Banner appears in his photo like a mild-mannered man in his forties. His glasses would mark him as a soft academic if not for his crimes.

"Phil Blumbert is the one who's really troubling, though."

My blood runs cold, because I recognize the thin, unassuming man in the photo, as well as the name.

"Oh my god. The Surgeon? My ex busted out with the help of a serial killer?"

Cole glances sharply my way, his eyes wide as the moon.

"I'm afraid it looks that way. Any one of these men is a threat on their own, but together…" Miller shakes his head. "I'm still not convinced that they planned this jointly. I mean, none of them have anything in common."

"Other than a desire to escape," Cole points out.

"Indeed," Miller replies with a nod. "Of course, now that they achieved that goal, there's no reason to believe that they are still together. They likely split up when they made it out of the penitentiary."

Cole shakes his head, staring hard at the files in his hands.

"No. These men are staying together. They've formed a pack, with Lovejoy as the Alpha."

"But they come from three radically different walks of life," Miller insists. "Blumbert, despite the name the press gave him, never even finished high school, while Banner was a PhD. Lovejoy is practically a celebrity. They just don't seem to mesh."

"When I was in the Navy, I served with a lot of guys I didn't mesh with. At first. But circumstances can breed camaraderie, especially when there's a shared goal and a charismatic leader."

Miller sighs. "So let's assume you're right, and these three men have formed a wolfpack of some sort. What do you think they're going to do?"

Cole's scowl deepens.

"They're going to do what packs do best. Hunt."