“Aww, how come I get the guy? Hell, there shouldn’t even be guy nurses. That’s just fucked up!” Ponytail’s loud complaint drew her attention as Josiah took his vitals. The inmate caught her gaze and winked. “I want the pretty girl to kiss my boo--boos.”
Briar frowned. He so did not look sick. Had they fabricated some illness just to get out of the general population and visit the HCU? The possibility of that hinted at a deeper cunning than she wanted to credit them with. If they were capable of fooling the guards, what else were they capable of?
Murphy, in a rare show of awareness, stood up from his chair and inched away from the door. His footsteps clicked on the concrete as he approached the beds. “Enough of that, you hear? You show respect.”
“C’mon. Who would you rather have tending your wounds?” Ponytail motioned across the room to Briar. “A pretty piece of ass or some guy?”
Murphy blustered, his hand moving to his side. She wasn’t sure if he was reaching for his mace, the radio, or baton.
Ponytail exchanged a look with his fellow inmate on the bed beside him, and that’s when she knew. Everything inside of her squeezed tight. Prickles broke out over her skin and her nape tightened. She’d felt this way countless times at the dinner table. When her mom said the wrong thing. Used the wrong tone of voice. Served the wrong thing for dinner.
It was like that moment when you trip. Those seconds before you land on your face. When you’re on your way down and you know pain was all that waited.
Murphy sputtered, his swollen hands finally clasping the radio at his belt, presumably to request backup. Unhooking his radio, he brought it to his lips, grumbling, “Maybe a little time in seg will teach you to watch your mouth.”
Something sank and twisted inside her. Murphy made the wrong choice in that split--second decision. He should have gone for the mace. Or baton. A weapon, at the very least. Not his radio.
Ponytail’s sideways glance and the flick of his hand were subtle. If you weren’t looking for it, it was easy to miss. Josiah didn’t miss the gesture, however. He pushed back from the rolling stool and sent it crashing into a neighboring bed.
“Murphy!” he warned as he quickly backed up. “Watch out!”
It was too late. Ponytail surged up from the bed and latched onto Murphy like some kind of jungle monkey. He wrapped his arms and legs around him and held on tightly, arms locked around his neck.
Briar lunged the two steps she needed to get to the panic button and slammed it down. The alarm peeled out across the room and beyond, but it didn’t matter. Too late. Ponytail had Murphy’s gun from his holster. He jumped off the guard’s body, the gun clasped in both hands, his eyes wild, a crazed smile creasing his sweating face.
Murphy held his hands up, shaking his head fiercely, senseless words tripping from his lips as he clumsily backed away.
“Gronsky! No!” Josiah shouted, holding out a hand as if that could somehow stop the inmate from firing.
Two bullets punched the air. Briar jumped at the loud pops. Murphy jerked as he took the hits. She covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a scream.
Murphy’s heavy weight dropped to the floor with a rattling groan.
She trembled, her breath escaping in violent pants. Oh God. Oh God.
She took a staggering step toward Murphy where he sprawled on the floor. Suddenly, Josiah was at her side, stopping her, pulling her away and tucking her behind him.
“That’s the alarm,” Josiah warned Gronsky, his gaze steady on him, still holding up one hand as if that would be enough to hold him off.
“Yeah, motherfucker, I can hear it.” Gronsky closed the distance and turned the gun sideways in Josiah’s face. “But I don’t really care. No one’s storming in here.” He stabbed the gun closer. “Not while I’ve got the four of you at my mercy.”
From the corner of her eye Briar glimpsed the other inmate yanking Dr. Walker from where he sat shell--shocked on his stool. She winced as he threw the older man to the floor like he was nothing more than a rag doll.
She tried to lunge around Josiah to reach her boss, but Josiah held her back, not letting her go as the other inmate started kicking the doctor.
“Stop!” she pleaded, watching helplessly as Dr. Walker curled into a small ball, crying out sharply from the blows. “He’s not fighting back! Stop it!”
It didn’t seem to matter to the inmate. He continued kicking and kicking, his breathing harsh with excitement.
“Please,” she begged over Josiah’s continued attempts to reason with Gronsky. “You’re going to kill him!”
“Pritchard,” Gronsky snapped. “Enough. Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?”
She swallowed a sob. Still keeping the gun trained on them, Gronsky marched over and snatched the doctor up from the floor.