EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2019 Louise Collins
ISBN: 978-1-77339-983-6
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: CA Clauson
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE RAT
Louise Collins
Copyright © 2019
Chapter One
Rory leapt off the bed at the sound of a scream. For a minute, he couldn’t remember where he was, let alone work out who the howl of terror was coming from.
He launched back, colliding with another person, and fell on their neighboring bed. He scuffled with the stranger, and their grunts and mumbles only added to the soundtrack of horror coming from the other side of the room. They both fell silent with their fists scrunched in each other’s t-shirts. If death had a sound, they were listening to it.
“Jesus Christ,” Rory mumbled.
“I don’t think he’s gonna help.”
The lights came on, and Rory pushed off from the body he was clutching. He stared at the man thrashing on the bed, in the midst of a nightmare. A lock clunked, and two guards rushed into the room. They seemed hesitant, didn’t approach, and darted panicked looks at each other.
“Benjamin!”
Shouting the man’s name had no effect.
The other guard tried to whisper the name, but it made no difference. No voice could reach the screaming man. He had fallen into the depths of hell, and unbeknownst to him, he was dragging them all down with him. Rory shuddered—he couldn’t imagine what was happening inside the man’s head.
It was clear that neither of the guards wanted to approach the man on the bed, and Rory didn’t blame them. He was huge, muscular, tattooed, with tired eyes when they were open, but closed, they were framed with angry lines, an expression of pure agony, and it was terrifying.
“Get against the wall.”
Rory nodded, and he and his fellow inmate pressed their backs to the wall and held their hands up. They didn’t dare move or make a sound.
Another prison guard came into the room, rolled his eyes, and strolled up to the man tossing and turning with terror.
“Captain!”
The howling stopped. The tortured prisoner rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His great chest heaved, and he swiped his hand down his face.
When Rory had first met him, they’d exchanged names, Captain Benjamin Tracy. Rory had called him Captain for short, and that earned him a small smile. He decided he would always refer to him as Captain from that moment on.
“You were having a nightmare.”
Captain burst out laughing. “A nightmare? Nightmares aren’t real. Everything I saw, the emotions in my mind, the pain in my chest, it’s real.” He lifted his hands above him, and they trembled wildly. “I need a drink.”
“You won’t be having one of those for the next five years.”
He laughed again, and Rory watched the tears run from his eyes. He sobbed while he laughed, and the sound and sight were hard to watch, and equally hard to look away from. Rory stared down at his feet until a guard grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards his bed.
“You’ve got one more hour of shut eye.”
Rory lay back down on the mattress, but didn’t get under the sheet. He didn’t want any obstacle tripping him if he had to launch from the bed again. He felt Captain’s eyes on him, and they made his heart thump. He glanced up and linked eyes with the strained ones watching him.
“Did I wake you?”
Rory shrugged and looked away. “I was half awake anyway.”
Captain snorted, then rolled over to face the wall. Rory could see the back of his t-shirt was drenched in sweat. His hair was kept military short, and when they went through the booking in process, his dog tags had been around his neck. He’d been forced to place them in a box for his eventual release.
“Hey…”
Rory turned over and looked at the inmate to his right. With his brain functioning again, he remembered the guy’s name was Ollie. Ollie was in for nine years. Rory didn’t ask what for, that wasn’t the done thing. Inmates asked about time and worked out the severity of the crime from there.
Rory craned his neck closer to Ollie’s bed, and he did the same.
“What?”
“Hope I’m not sharing a cell with him.”
Rory snorted. “That’s not funny.”
“Just saying, I damn near shit myself.”
Rory sniffed loudly, frowned, then murmured, “You sure you didn’t?”
“Screw you.”
There was humor in his tone, and Rory smiled.
They were going on to the wing that morning and Rory was thankful he was going with company. The three of them had only met the day before. Captain had been unnervingly quiet, but Ollie rattled with nerves.
Captain was in for five years and Ollie for nine. By inmates’ reasoning, Ollie must’ve done the worst crime, but looking at him—young, slim, and a head of boyish blond hair—it was hard to imagine he had done worse than the scarred military man on Rory’s left.
He had told Captain and Ollie he was in for eight years.
It was a lie.
Rory didn’t need to ask what Ollie or Captain had been convicted of. He already knew.
Oliver Linton, the grinning blond on his right, was in for manslaughter. He’d stabbed his abusive dad to death. Captain Benjamin Tracy was in for a drunk driving collision, the injured party not a person, but a famous war memorial, that he proceeded to urinate on in front of a group of school children.
Rory read files about them prior to his mission, and it had been planned that the three of them would enter the prison together. They acted as his veil, his cover, and when he glanced at Ollie’s smirking face, Rory was glad he was going inside with someone he could get on with. He was an undercover police officer about to walk into a prison full of convicts. If he hadn’t already lost his mind, he was about to.
****
The three of them walked in a line. Captain at the front, Rory in the middle, and Ollie at the back. The gate was unlocked and pulled open, and they stepped into the wing. The space was huge, filled with rectangle tables and chairs. The guard showed them the laundry room, the gate that led to the library, another that led to the gym, and the final one that took them into the yard. The prison was two floors high, the metal of the stairs, walkway, and cells, making it feel colder, and harsher than Rory had imagined. That was without looking at the faces of his fellow convicts, whose snarls and curled lips made Rory want to roll into a ball.
The eyes of the inmates didn’t focus on him, some hungry gazes fell on Ollie, and some challenging stares attached to Captain. Neither were friendly looks, and Rory grew uncomfortable for both his new friends.
Rory was largely ignored, exactly like he wanted, but then the weight of someone’s eyes tilted his head up, and he looked at the man hovering on the top walkway. The one man he wanted to appear inconspicuous to was staring straight at him.
Sebastian Claw.
Rory looked down again, but his skin prickled with a hot flush, and he glanced up.
Sebastian’s blue eyes were piercing, and his grey hair looked at home surrounded by metal, and white walls. Even with him meters above, Rory could see the shadow on his jaw and top lip, darker than the hair on his head.
<
br /> He leaned his forearms on the metal railing and tilted his head when he caught Rory looking back.
“Hey!”
Rory tore his gaze from the man above and looked at the prison guard. “What?”
“I said come with me, and I’ll take you up to your cell.”
He clutched his bag of belongings to his chest, shot Ollie a glance, then followed the guard up two sets of stairs. Sebastian didn’t turn to him, he continued to look down on the wing, but as Rory passed behind him, he saw his back tense, and his biceps bulge as he flexed them.
“Cell 82.”
The guard gestured Rory inside. He stepped in, looked at the bunk bed, the small basin and toilet, and the shabby looking cabinet. He glanced at both beds, both made, both crease free. Rory’s heart thumped harder. He didn’t know which bed was meant for him. He looked to the guard for help, but he’d gone.
“Shit.”
Rory turned back to the beds, hoping to find some evidence of which one his cellmate slept in. There were no pictures tacked to the walls, or hairs on the pillow, Rory was clueless.
“You’re on the top one.”
Rory jumped forward at the voice and hugged the bag to his chest. He knew Sebastian was behind him and had filled the doorway with his bulk.
“Bit jumpy aren’t you.”
Rory turned around and faked a light laugh. “I didn’t know you were there.”
Sebastian’s arms were crossed. His tight T-shirt stretched over his pronounced pectorals, and his biceps rounded. “You should always know where I am…”
“What?”
He took a step closer, and Rory backed away fast until his back met the wall.
“I’m everywhere … don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.”
“Good, what’s your name?”
“Rory Price.”
“How long are you in for?”
“Eight years.”
Sebastian snorted, then bobbed his head. “I’m in for sixteen, but I’m coming to the end of my sentence.”
Rory already knew, that was why he was there. He had to uncover Sebastian’s future plans, stop them before they could even take form.
“That must be a nice feeling.”
“Isn’t it just…”
Sebastian stared until Rory looked away. He put his bag on the top bunk and started sorting through his clothes.
“You find it hard to look me in the eye.”
Rory paused. “No, I don’t—
“Really? Look at me now then.”
Rory looked at Sebastian’s intense eyes. They didn’t blink, the blue was like ice, and Rory withheld a shudder. Looking Sebastian Claw in the eyes filled him with unease, and he glanced away, then cursed under his breath.
“I’ll find out why…”
“Why what?” Rory whispered.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Why you find it hard to look at me.”
He left the cell, and Rory slumped forward, and pressed his forehead into the mattress. He had to befriend Sebastian, not get on his bad side, the mission relied on him striking a bond with the criminal, but their first exchange had been anything but friendly.
Rory looked up at the sound of a knock.
Ollie stepped in the cell, then checked over his shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one.”
“What?”
“Your cellmate, the silver fox, looks like a psycho, too.”
“Who you sharing with?”
Ollie scrunched his face. “Teddy Saul.”
Rory frowned. As a name went, it seemed friendly enough. “How long’s he in for?”
“I don’t know, he doesn’t speak.”
“Doesn’t speak?”
“I asked the guard about it, he’s not said a word since he arrived here ten years ago.”
Rory widened his eyes at the ten years—Teddy’s crime must’ve been severe.
“He grunted at me when he saw me, and I said hello in reply, that was as far as our conversation has gone.”
“Me and Sebastian haven’t exactly hit it off.”
Rory opened the small cabinet and shoved his clothes in the spare space. Sebastian may have looked at him like he wanted him dead, but he at least had the manners to clear him a space.
“Breakfast’s happening below.”
Rory nodded. “Then we better get to it.”
They walked back out on to the landing, and most of the curious faces were distracted by food. Rory wrinkled his nose at the smell of burned toast, and watery egg. There was a line, but many inmates walked in front of them and got served first. They didn’t protest, but lowered their gazes and waited their turn.
The toast was black, and no amount of scraping the charred bread could revive it. The eggs were at least edible, and the coffee, although weak, was soothing on Rory’s taste buds.
Ollie pointed out Teddy. “That’s my cellmate.”
He sat at a table by himself, and scooped eggs in his mouth like he was pressed for time. Bald head, but he made up for it with a dark beard. He wore a tank top, and although less muscular than Sebastian and Captain, he was still pretty defined.
Ollie leaned closer. “Looks crazy, don’t he?”
“He might be all right.”
“What about your cellmate?”
Sebastian was engaged in intense conversation with two other inmates, his lips stopped moving, he frowned, then he looked at Rory. Rory spluttered his coffee, drawing the unwanted attention of the neighboring table. They laughed, and one of the group lifted his head.
“Can’t handle your drink, sweetheart?”
Rory didn’t reply to the man. He wiped the coffee off the table with his sleeve and didn’t glance up.
“Didn’t you hear me, sweetheart?”
“Say something back,” Ollie muttered.
“Like what?”
“I dunno.”
Rory raised the cup. “It’s hot.”
“Glad you think so, you’re not bad either.”
“No, I meant the coffee.”
“Am I not hot then?”
Captain walked into view then sat down at the table, blocking both Rory and Ollie from the men behind. Rory inwardly sighed with relief and wondered whether Captain knew he’d just saved him.
Captain sighed at his breakfast and whisked the eggs with his fork. Rory noticed he had more on his tray than both him and Ollie put together, and his toast wasn’t burned to a charcoal crisp.
“You’re already making an impression,” Rory mumbled.
The inmate serving in the canteen had his eyes on Captain’s back. He bit his lip and dragged his gaze up and down a few times, then a yell from an inmate got his attention and he started serving up again.
“Is he still staring at me?” Captain asked.
Ollie smirked. “Not at the moment, but you’ve certainly got an admirer.”
“Until I terrify him later.”
“Why are you going to terrify him?” Rory asked.
“Not on purpose, I mean when I go to sleep.”
“That wasn’t a one off?”
“Those night terrors happen more than they don’t happen.”
Rory glanced down at the table. “Maybe you should talk to the doctor.”
Captain hissed and shook his head.
“It’s not weak—”
“I know it’s not, but any suffering I go through is deserved.”
Ollie snorted. “You’re only in here for five, whatever you did couldn’t have been that bad—”
“I’m not suffering over that, that day doesn’t torment me.”
“Then what?” Ollie asked.
“None of your business. Point is, he won’t be looking at me like that tomorrow.”
“We’re still looking at you fine,” Ollie muttered.
Captain glared at both of them. He didn’t look at them like he wanted to eat them, or kill them—his look was vacant, dead, and it was equally disturbing. There were dark bags sunken into his skin, and h
is irises were almost as dark as his pupils. Ollie averted his gaze, but Rory kept looking back.
“I make people uncomfortable, mark my words, I’ll get no admiring glances this time tomorrow, and the guys that look at me like they wanna fight me, will pity me, but I’m not worried about myself, I’m worried about you two.”
“Us?” Rory muttered.
“I’m not the only one that’s got some interested glances…”
Rory swallowed, and looked over to Sebastian, but he’d gone.
“Not anyone over there, I meant the asshole behind me, had his eyes on you since we came in.”
“Really?”
“Overheard him talking with his group, discussing both of you.”
Rory and Ollie shared a look. “What did they say?”
“Ollie’s got a lot of attention, some guy practically salivating over you.”
Rory heard Ollie’s forced swallow. “Shit…”
“But don’t worry, when they found out whose cell you were in, they shut up pretty quick.”
“What’s so bad about Teddy?” Ollie whispered.
Captain shrugged. “I don’t know, but I get the impression they won’t cross him. Being in his cell, he’s pretty much your unappointed bodyguard. They call it claiming in here.”
Ollie shuddered. “I’ve been claimed? I suddenly feel like I’ve got the short straw.”
“You’ll be all right,” Rory said.
“And you know that for sure, do you?”
Rory didn’t reply.
“Exactly,” Ollie hissed.
“Stick with me, and you’ll be fine,” Captain muttered.
“What about at night?”
Captain shrugged. “You’re on your own.”
“Bloody great,” Ollie huffed, shoving his tray away.
“You better be careful, too,” Captain mumbled.
Rory nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to his first night alone with Sebastian. He knew basic martial arts, but against a guy as strong as Sebastian, it was stupid to try it.
“Pauly’s got you on his radar.”
“Who?”
The Rat Page 1
