Page 24 of The Fall Guy

I reply.

Another message immediately comes through.

Another 10k has been offered for Kaden.

I stare at the screen. Who can Kaden have pissed off enough to up their price? He doesn’t seem like a threat. Even in the middle of the gunfight in the gymnasium, he didn’t look dangerous. He was out of his depth.

I’ll think about it.

I reply before switching off the device. There’s another hitman walking inside these walls. If I don’t do as I’ve been asked, someone else will.

Most of the day is quiet, and neither of us leaves our cell unless we have to. By lights out, we’re more than comfortable in silence. I usually do my own research on a target, but I don’thave access to the internet. Something isn’t sitting right with this request. Rebooting my phone, I ask for more information.

Why him?

Do you know why he’s in jail?

He critically injured a child.

I reply. It was all over the news, but I’m reasonably sure it was just a miscalculation rather than malicious. Are the kid’s parents out for revenge, is that what this is about?

Did he?

I frown. Okay, now I’m confused. I ask a few more questions but only get radio silence. Frustrated, I shut off the phone, choosing to stare at the mattress above me.

It takes Kaden longer than usual to settle, and I’m in tune with his every movement. He tosses and turns, huffs and puffs. I’m about to call him out on his shit when he jostles himself over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor. He paces the cell, performs star jumps and jogs on the spot. When he goes down to do press-ups, I move from my bed.

“That isn’t going to settle your mind,” I say.

“And what do you know about what I need?” He is strong, easily going down to the floor and back up again.

“I’ve already told you more than once.” Being trapped in confinement can send anyone stir crazy. Settling one’s mind is the only way to survive. The exercise is a distraction not the solution.

“After a boring day, I need to burn off some steam.” He keeps a steady rhythm while stretching out his muscles.

“Okay,” I say, joining his workout. I’m not going to get any rest watching him so I might as well join in.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying it your way.” We sweat together until we’re exhausted—sit-ups, planks, jogging on the spot, and more star jumps. I’m knackered when we’re done. The cool floor feels good against my face as I try to catch my breath.

“Why don’t I ever see you jogging outside?” he asks.

Ignoring his question, I ask my own. “Why do you sit with the bulldogs?”

He rolls his eyes like it’s a stupid question. “They’re my people.”

“Are you sure they can be trusted?” I need to assess who his enemies are; they may be closer than he thinks.

He frowns. “They’ve not given me any reason to doubt them.”

“Okay.” I sound unsure even to myself.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He’s still breathing heavily, but I don’t miss the edge to his voice.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I turn onto my back so I’m staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re a smart guy, so give it to me straight.”

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