The Fall Guy (Eastward Prison Story)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

KADEN

NINE MONTHS EARLIER

When a job goes wrong, the consequences can be brutal.

I’ve got a busted right shoulder, which feels like it’s out of the socket, and a gash on my forehead allowing blood to run into my left eye. My vision is fuzzy around the edges, but I hold my body motionless.

Being stuck between a leaking sewage pipe that smells worse than a rotting corpse and a petite police officer with a malfunctioning torch gives me limited choices. At least the abandoned sports centre has dark corners and high windows, perfect for staying in the shadows. Up until now, other than a few injuries, the darkness has helped me stay out of the law’s grasp. Hiding in the men’s bathroom may have been an error in judgement.

There’s only one good route in and out unless I tackle the dirty water plumbed into the unsavoury toilet block. I don’t want my cut to get infected, but I’m not going down without a fight. Prison is a place I only want to visit on a monopoly board.

I curl my hand into a tight fist while determination washes over me—I’m going to walk free from this building. I readjust my thoughts; the police officer made a mistake following me here.

The torchlight flickers once more before we’re plunged into blackness, and her footsteps falter while she taps the metal barrel.

Time seems to stop as my chest expands with my need to suck in the stale air. I need to escape before I’m found and lose the element of surprise. Slowly, I force my breath out, pushing away from my hiding spot. Stealthily, I approach the policewoman, prepared to take her down.

The loud, pop, pop, pop from somewhere close by gives us both pause as her torch finally flickers on. Her deep brown eyes widen as fear crosses her face before her features harden into a scowl. She starts to raise her handgun, but I’m quicker.

Using my already injured shoulder, I slam her into the crumbling wall. Dust circulates into the air, giving a smell of dry rot. Both of us groan as she loses her balance and starts to tumble.

She didn’t stand a chance against my muscular physique. She slides down the wall while I use my left arm to push away. I make a break for the door as the torch rolls along the floor, and I lose sight of the gun.

Once out into the open hall, I head towards the drained swimming pool. It’s the way I came in and hopefully my easiest exit route.

Back when I was a kid, which seems like a lifetime ago, Eastward’s Athletics was a place to escape the pressures of being a teenager. I’d come here to burn off steam when my dad was on my case, or when my brother was trying too hard to please him.

I’m familiar with the layout of the building, even in the dark.

A door opens, followed by footsteps going in the opposite direction. Hopefully, the police officer is leaving.

I need to grab the bag of drugs I stashed before I get the hell out of here.

The lack of noise is unsettling, and I’ve heard too many gunshots in the last thirty minutes. Nothing good can come from lingering in this building.

Someone must’ve tipped off the police, which has led to tonight’s bloodbath. Two of our guys are dead, and at least a handful of coppers too. I don’t make mistakes. I’m not the reason this meeting went south, and I trust my crew with my life.

The Cyclones may be a gang of thugs, but they have been good to me since my father died. They helped me find a place to stay when my world was spiralling and my family couldn’t handle my decisions.

I’m not like my twin brother. He’s the good one, whereas I’m more of a sinner than a saint.

Just like the tattoo I have inked across my chest I have a darker side. It reads, ‘ the devil is the keeper of my soul, and my heart beats between the shadows of sins .’

That only leaves Rio, the buyer’s runner. He set up the drop-off point between the Cyclones and his wealthy friend . He instigated every step of the deal, which isn’t usual when we’ve used someone before.

Wealthy buyers think they can call all the shots. It’s easier for us to accommodate what they want when they’re trying to play the big boss man. Although maybe this is something I’ll have to rethink now. Blood might’ve been spared if I’d chosen a different location.

I knew there was something dubious about Rio the first time I saw his piercing grey eyes. His curly blonde hair and scar-free skin remind me more of a cherub than a gangster.

He needs dirtying up a bit, a few rounds in a boxing ring or a street fight and maybe I’ll be the man to do it. I have a thing about knives, but I’m getting distracted. I can’t afford to lose focus right now.

The door to the swimming pool creaks, pulling hard on its hinges as I push it open. With a bit of luck, the policewoman won’t realise I’ve doubled back to the meeting place. Cops were creeping around the building, but she seemed to be targeting me.

My feet slide on the blood-smeared tiles causing a jolt of pain to travel through my shoulder. Moonlight streams through the high windows giving a blue glow to the space. The old swimming area reeks of death. I stumble over a police officer’s corpse, crushing his lifeless hand as I struggle to stay upright.

It takes me a minute to realise but more than death walks in between the shadows. There’s someone else breathing in here.

At the far end of the room, Rio stands looking into the bottom of the pool. His blonde hair sticks to his face, and he looks as bad as I feel. Rio has blood down his white shirt, but it doesn’t seem to be his. The spray is too light and evenly splattered, as if he were close to the victim rather than the injured person.

My gaze follows his to see two dead bodies lying face down. One is a cop with his gun in hand, and the other is Rio’s boss still wearing his fully tailored suit.

Rio rubs his gun over his jawline. “There’s something calming about watching someone bleed out,” he says with glazed eyes.

I don’t show any emotion, but what a strange thought for him to have. Maybe he’s trying to confuse me, and I guess it’s working. Being chased down by cops and dislocating my shoulder when a heavy partition wall fell on me isn’t calming in any way. There are cops still out there, and my heart is racing from adrenaline. No part of this situation is soothing. I’d rather no one was dead, and this deal had gone to plan. I may be a fighter, but I’m no killer.

“Hush your bullshit words. Your partner would have understood the danger when he signed up to the force, so you don’t have to feel guilty and make up random shit to throw me off your game,” I spit out while questioning his motives. Could he be a cop? I don’t know but it would explain this situation.

My weapon of choice will always be a knife, but I don’t have a gun or a knife. I need to reduce the distance between us if I stand any chance of disarming him. If he’s a cop, it’s unlikely he’ll attack me unprovoked. I haven’t killed anyone, so I’m not a threat.

His eyes roam up to mine, while a low chuckle hums up his throat. “You really are something.”

My eyebrows pull together in a frown, unable to hide my confusion this time. What the hell are his words supposed to mean? I look back at the two dead bodies, trying to figure out which one gives him grief or relief. Did he pull the trigger on either of them? But why would he do that? I should be nervous around him, yet I’m not. Is he biding his time before he turns on me? Will I be quick enough to take him down if I need to?

“At least I’m true to my brothers.” Cyclone blood was spilt on this soil, but they will be remembered. My eyes stay on his weapon while I keep walking toward him. Before I can ask any more questions, the door behind me opens with a loud creak.

“Freeze,” the police officer from earlier shouts. Her voice is shaky, making it obvious she’s lacking backup.

Rio doesn’t even flinch as he gives me his whole attention. “It’s not a brother or a friend I’m looking for. Just look in the pool. I’m not very good with those.” The way he says that last part is a clue he wants something from me.

Assessing the policewoman isn’t an option without turning my back on Rio. Hesitation isn’t a luxury I have right now. At least this clears up one thing. Rio isn’t part of law enforcement. Can I trust the man I was doubting just a second ago? Fuck. Do I have any other choice?

Everything happens at once. A trickle of blood seeps into my eye, clouding my vision. A gun is fired, followed by another, and my instinct takes over. I dive onto the hard floor of the empty pool, wishing there was water to break my fall. My ears ring from the echoing gunfire, and my senses dull. I’m disorientated as my mind spins, and my body feels like it’s full of lead. If I make it out tonight, I will need a few days to recover. Some fine whisky, good smokes, and maybe a blow job are what I’ll be putting on order.

Using my good arm, I drag myself into a sitting position. My whole body aches with pain. Once strong enough to move, I haul myself to a standing position. There’s no movement from the poolside, and I’m in the dark as to who shot who.

The rusty steps are securely attached to the edge of the pool wall. They don’t start from the bottom, making it challenging to grip onto them. Without them, though, I’m not sure how I’d manage to drag my sorry self out of here, so I shouldn’t complain.

I’m not sure who survived the last few rounds of bullets. The policewoman might shoot me if I startle her, so I need to be careful.

Metal grinds against the broken tiles when I make my first attempt to escape the pit. My arm snaps into its socket as my weight pulls against it. Sharp pain jolts through me. I fall back on my butt with a loud thud. The wind is sucked out of my lungs as I hit the floor, making me gasp.

It takes three attempts and a new gash on my elbow before I finally manage to get up. My muscles burn with the need to give up, but I can’t rest yet.

The policewoman is bleeding out on the floor. I can just about make out the twitch of her hands as she fights to hold on, but it’s too late. I’ve seen many men in her position before, and it never ends well. There’s only so much trauma one’s body can take.

I turn to Rio, who’s sat on a rickety old bench gripping his side. His shirt is soaked in more blood, while sweat beads on his forehead. I hesitate for a moment before ripping my black T-shirt over my head. Using it to cover his wound, I apply pressure, making him grunt. I guess his first scar might be a souvenir of the night we’ve spent together.

“There were easier ways to make me take my clothes off than getting shot,” I say. Although nothing about this situation is amusing, I can’t help making a bad joke.

Rio took a bullet for me… or maybe to save himself. Either way, I owe him, and I hate having a debt to pay. Giving him my shirt is the least I can do, and I have to believe he didn’t help bring this shitstorm down on us.

“Now he’s catching on,” Rio says, keeping his composed exterior. He doesn’t want a brother or friend. He’s gay. I kind of already knew, but his words have more clarity now.

“Do you think you can walk out of here?” I ask. We shouldn’t stay longer than necessary. The old bill has a big mess to deal with, and we don’t want to be part of the clean-up.

He grunts, which I think was supposed to be a laugh, before spitting a mouthful of blood. “My ride is on its way. You better get the fuck out of here before they arrive.”

I eye the bag of money under the bench, and his lip twitches. He’s weak, making it tempting to leave with more than my share.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says.

I narrow my eyes, still trying to figure him out. He’s in worse shape than me, and he’d be crazy to think he could stop me. His pretty boy body isn’t leaving the sports hall without its first proper scar, which excites my wicked side. I lick the sweat from my lips while hesitating to move forward. Murder isn’t my forte, but neither is being good.

A loud engine roars outside, and it won’t be long until more people descend on our location. Ignoring the money and him, I make my way out through the fire exit and pick up the drugs from behind the blue plastic bin.

Tonight was a fucking disaster, and I hope never to have to see any part of it again.