The Hitman

The Escape

Nick Sievers' POV

The door creaked open and I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

Conway stood in front of me, arms crossed.

"What?" I asked. "No Aldridge?"

He shrugged and produced a set of keys. "She's fuming right now. Trust me when I say you don't want to see her."

I shrugged. "I mean, I told her not to trust the words of a hitman." I stood up and held out my hands.

Conway inserted the keys into the handcuffs. "A hitman?" He paused and looked me in the eyes. "Maybe that's what you do, but it doesn't have to be who you are."

I sighed. "It is who I am. I made that choice a long time ago."

"Son," my father warned. He backed up, but stopped when his back hit the wall. He held up his hands. As if that would do much.

"You never called me that before," I snarled. "Besides, I'm not the boy you once knew. Not your illegitimate son, whose eyes were blue when your actually family's were brown. I'm not the boy you could force to hide away his telltale eyes. The boy you could hit and always get away with it." I smiled and rubbed my hands together. "I can hit back now."

I pulled a knife out of its sheath and lifted it high above my head as my father's eyes widened in fear.

Conway sighed. "You know, people can change."

"I've already changed," I mumbled. As the handcuffs unlocked, I quickly moved.

I wrapped the cuff chain around Conway's throat and yanked his gun from its holder. "Where is Jay?" I hissed, pointing the gun to his temple.

Conway opened and closed his mouth, shocked.

"I killed my own father," I said, "and I'll happily do the same to you if you don't answer me."

The agent seemed to be frozen in indecision. Finally, though, his shoulders slumped. "Down the hall to the right."

I shoved him out of the detainment room and into the hallway. It was empty. Conway led me to another room. "Unlock the door," I demanded.

Hands shaking, he produced the keys from his pocket and inserted one into the lock. I winced at the loud jangling noise they made. The door unlocked and I pushed him through.

There was Jay, slumped over a table similar to my own. He looked up, but instantly looked away again.

"Look, Jay," I said, "I'm here to rescue you. Come on."

"What?" he asked. "To do everything for you? To do all of the actual planning but let you take all the credit?" He buried his head in his arms.

I slammed a fist on the table, making Conway jump. "Dang it, Jay. If you stay here, they'll lock you away forever. You're my friend. I want to rescue you because you're the closest thing to family I have."

Jay looked up slowly. He tried to hide his grin, but wasn't doing a very good job. "Fine. You couldn't even blow your nose without me."

I laughed. "You're right. I haven't blown my nose since I saw you last."

There was an awkward silence, and Jay motioned toward the agent still in the room. I nodded in realization.

I pressed the gun into Conway's temple, making the skin pull taut. "Well?" I asked. "Are you going to unlock the handcuffs?"

He nodded frantically and freed Jay's hands. We rushed back toward the door, but I pushed Conway through first to make sure there weren't any trigger-happy guards waiting for us.

"Okay, what's the fastest way to get outside?" Jay asked the agent.

He lifted a hand and pointed a shaking finger toward the left. I studied his face, and released the safety when his eye twitched. "You're lying."

Conway opened his mouth. "No. I—I...."

"You're wasting time, that's what. Where are we going?" I asked. "To the right?"

He nodded reluctantly, and I dragged him along. As we made our way for the exit, Conway was trembling in my grasp. I gripped his arm tighter as he guided us toward freedom.

"Halt!" a high-pitched voice shouted.

Shoot.

Anderson.