The Escape: Part 2/7 [FanFic]
Title: The Escape: Part 2/7
Author: Tooks
Pairing/Characters: Aaron Hotcher/Emily Prentiss, Emily Prentiss/Ethan, Emily Prentiss/George Foyet, Jason Gideon/Lil Foyet, George Foyet/Lil Foyet...Jack and Sam are also in this.
Rating: FRAO
Summary: With the death sentence of wrongfully convicted best friend, Sam Kassmeyer, set Private Investigator Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner decides he can’t let it be carried out without a fight. But when fighting back includes breaking Sam out of prison Hotch’s limits are tested.
Beta'd by: Always helpful and incredibly awesome pink_siamese
Fanmix & Art by: Incredibly cool queenmidalah...art post here!
Additional Notes: This is "The Blonds Case" for the au_bigbang. Set in the Noir, "Living For the Night" (thanks to let_it_linger21). Rather than give warnings per-section let's just say there's going to be violence and sex abound, sometimes combined and some involving a teen, mild incest, and a character death. This section is in Emily's POV.
Reid rocks between the heels and balls of his feet as we wait for the train to arrive. I look around. “Are we at the right track? Is he coming in from Vegas?”
“Actually, um, he’s coming in from New Orleans.”
“New Orleans?” Only a slight change in my pitch indicates curiosity from behind my sunglasses.
“Yeah.” Reid shrugs. “He moves around a lot.”
“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that whole escaping from prison thing, would it?”
I spot the dimpling of Hotch’s cheeks.
“Actually, yes.”
Hotch looks at me. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“Of course.” Reid turns back to us. “Ethan’s helped me out plenty of times and most of those things I do for you and this team I learned from him.”
“You do more than pick locks and pockets, Reid.” Hotch states firmly.
While those talents have always proved helpful, they were never why Hotch kept the young man around. After all we were all able to do those things to a certain extent. Reid has skills beyond that. His knowledge is vast and detailed. He can read and dissect ransom notes, decode strange bits of information gained through contacts, and memorize what he’s read, even heard, in just one go. Without him we’d move at a snail’s pace.
Reid reddens a touch; he looks like a boy who has been praised by his father. “I know but…” he shrugs, “those things I did learn from Ethan are the types of things I’m guessing we’ll need to help Sam.”
The train starts to de-board.
I turn to him. “So which one is he, Dr Reid?”
“There he is!”
We look to where Reid points and rushes before we turn our heads to each other. “Is that at all what you expected?”
“From Reid? No, but then I’ve learned to expect the unexpected from most people over the years.”
Ethan was scruffy and easily twice the size of Dr. Reid, sure-footed, and gifted with natural charisma.
I fish out a cigarette. “You ever looked at someone and thought, ‘uh-oh, here comes trouble’?”
“The first moment I saw you,” Hotch answers smoothly.
I laugh.
“Guys,” says Reid. “This is Ethan.”
***
Only the most basic of pleasantries are exchanged before Hotch decides to get us out of the public and into his car.
“So, what’s the game, Reid?” Ethan asks with mild interest as his feet press into my seat.
“Free cell.”
“What’s the hand so far?”
Reid looks in the review mirror, catching eyes with Hotch and I briefly before looking away. “Eight, Queen, and Jack of Clubs with a King of Diamonds.”
“Any sevens of Spades?”
“No, but, uh, I know that, uh, a pair of sevens would be nice in that suit.”
Ethan nod, smiles, then smirks. “Well at least you got a Joker now.”
Reid nods with a smile. “In more ways than one.”
I know it’s all code. I know it’s Ethan asking about what’s going on, why his friend asked for his help, and who else is involved. I might not know all the details of the conversation, but I can decode enough of it to share a small, knowing, frown with Aaron. If this is what passes for stealth with this guy Sam could be in real trouble. I reach over to take Hotch’s hand, squeeze it with a comforting smile as he starts to explain the situation.
***
“So, how long until he’s switched to actual death row?” Ethan looks like he’s slouching on the couch, but he’s not. He’s relaxing. He relaxes like most ex-cons, always wary and ready to bolt.
“A week from today,” Hotch says.
Ethan whistles low and tense before turning to Reid, “You’re gonna need more people.”
Hotch arches an eyebrow. “Not everyone is here.”
Ethan’s eyes slide back to Hotch’s before he smiles. “Any them work in the prison?”
“No.”
“Then you’re gonna need more people.” He turns to Reid. “You need the sevens and a Jack of Spades wouldn’t be bad either.”
“Oh!” Reid gets excited. “Oh, we might have that card!”
“Jack of Spades?”
“Yeah.”
I look back and forth between them. “What the hell are you two talking about, exactly?”
It’s Reid who answers as Ethan lets out a loose and easy smirk. “Um, well, Rossi actually.”
“Jack of Spades means Rossi?” I repeat, thinking as I do, before smiling. “A gangster?”
Ethan smiles full and bright for the first time. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t ya?”
I give him my grandest of eye-rolls before the click, click, click of Garcia’s heels announce her return from dinner. “Hello boys and girls,” she chirps. “Did you have a successful day?” She heads straight for her desk to drop a stack of papers. “I know I did.”
“Garcia,” says Hotch. “This is Ethan, Reid’s…connection.”
She turns and claps her hands. “Oooh, the jailbird!”
Ethan and Reid laugh. Hotch and I try not to.
Ethan stands, still chuckling, as he heads over with his hand extended. “Just Ethan’s fine, darlin’, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Garcia takes it and he lifts her hand to his mouth.
“Well, you’re a smoothie, aren’t you?” she teases.
“I do all right,” Ethan says with a wink.
“Right,” she says, blushing a little. “As I was about to say, I talked to the Vaughns and they said they’d help with whatever they could and so did Josh Cramer. Oh and Morgan called and said that Father Marks can offer sanctuary if need be too.”
Hotch nods, “Not a bad start.”
“Not at all considering the rest were just not home so I get to try them all again.” Garcia announces happily.
“Just keep calling, Pen.”
“When able,” Ethan cuts in, “I’d like to meet the others.”
“For now, why don’t you stick to what you’re here for?”
Ethan just looks at Hotch, blinking, before his eyes scan the rest of us. He leans forward. “In order to help I kinda need to know all the players, now don’t I?"
“You’ll meet them tomorrow evening,” Hotch replies. “From now until then it might benefit to get a look at the prison, yes?”
“Sure.” Ethan looks at him and says with a chuckle, “Whatever you say, Boss.”
***
Hotch is no good for company and he tells me so when we end up at my place. I ask him if he’s sure, if he’ll be okay, and he says he just needs to think alone for awhile. He needs to think and plan and worry on his own. His kiss claims me before I’m allowed out of the car and inside.
Less than an hour later I’m showered, robed, and listening to Jace Everett as I sip my White Russian on the couch. I tend to prefer things with a stronger kick, but I need to mellow out, and the Russian will get me there; I need to forget the tensions of the day and the knowledge that it’ll increase as the days go on.
The knock startles a shake into my drink before I set it down. I get up, walk to the door, open it a crack.
“Emily, right?”
I step back and open the door. “You knew how to find me, but can’t recall my name?”
Ethan chuckles.“I remembered, I just wasn’t sure if I should call you that or if you preferred Prentiss or somethin’ else?”
“Why are you here?”
“Hotchner doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
“You need my confirmation on that?”
“Nah,” Ethan waves off the question. “I need your help with it. Can I come in?”
I do it because I don’t believe Dr Reid would bring us someone who couldn’t get the job done. I let him in because he’s right, Hotch doesn’t like him, doesn’t trust him. I let him in because he’s a man I can handle. I let Ethan in because he’s the type of man I’ve never been able to completely refuse.
“You want something to drink?” I relock the door and head over to the mini-bar.
He settles into the corner of my couch, lounges with an arm over the back. “I’ll have whatever you’re havin’.”
“White Russian?”
“Sure.”
“Look.” I pour in the milk. “With Hotch, trust is something you have to earn.”
“I don’t think his friend has time for that, Emily.”
“Sam.” I bring him his drink. “The man whose life you’re here to help save? His name is Sam.”
“Sam,” he takes the drink, sips, and sets it aside to look up at me. “Sam needs us all to be on the same page, Emily, and I’m way behind. Hotch is keeping me way behind.”
“He just…” I sigh and sit. “He doesn’t want to take a risk that’ll get Sam killed. This is a hard city to find someone to trust in, everyone has an ulterior motive and agenda.”
“I’m not from this city.”
“No.” I smirk. “You’re from New Orleans by way of Las Vegas, cities both known for citizens of high moral standing.”
Ethan picks up on the tease. “I never said I wasn’t a fella of low morals. I’m just not from this town so I got no other allegiance but to Reid, no other motive but to help ya’ll save your friend.”
I take a sip. “How is it you know Dr Reid anyway?”
“Went to school together.”
“You look older than him.”
“I am,” Ethan admits with a smile. “Five years older to be exact, but we were in the same classes. The genius thing.”
I smirk a touch, adjust myself as my body gravitates into his space on the couch. “He said you taught him things.”
“I did.” Ethan smirks back. “And he taught me things.”
“Like?”
“I taught him all the bad, he taught me there was good. Didn’t do much in helping me stay outta trouble, but it was something.”
“So what were you in prison for?”
“Which time, darlin’?”
I laugh. “Oh that’s comforting.”
Ethan’s closer to me, the tricky little fucker’s damn near closed the gap and I think that maybe I should back off, reestablish personal space, but I don’t.
“Cons, mostly. Maybe a few bar fights and outright thefts, but mostly it was just different cons and breakin’ out, of course.”
“You got caught after breaking out? That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
“What’d you think, I was some kinda savant at it?” He laughs. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I had to learn through practice and, sometimes, that meant I got caught. My last escape was about ten years ago though and I ain’t been caught yet.”
“Maybe because you sound like a Southerner?”
“Excuse me?”
“Reid said you two grew up together in Vegas, but you came in from New Orleans and, if I wasn’t told otherwise, I’d have thought you were from there. You adopted the southern persona, complete with accent, to fit in better, yes?”
Ethan’s holds his arms up playfully. “Caught me.”
I smile, and as he goes to take a sip of his drink he leans into me more, brushes his arm against mine.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna go check out the prison,” he says. “I’d like you come with me.”
“Couldn’t Reid help you with that?”
“Two men go into a prison together they’ve either done something wrong or are about to ‘cause they’re casing the joint. Man and a woman go in together?” Ethan shrugs as he finishes his sip, sets his glass down. “Well that’s just a unique date.”
“So bring Garcia.”
Ethan laughs and I give a slight scowl.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Garcia seems a great girl,” he chuckles. “But I’m not sure she could handle it.”
“Garcia can handle more than you’d think.”
“Okay, lemme put it another way. I think Garcia, amazin’ as she is, might call attention to herself there. She’s too happy, too bubbly, and too bright to fly under the radar on this. Also, if I need to lie a little, I need someone to play whatever part I need.”
“And that’s me?”
“I think so.”
“Why’s that?”
Ethan looks me up and down. “You strike me as the type who’s played parts before.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.”
“And what parts are those?”
“Whatever parts you’ve needed, I’m sure.” He winks.
I laugh. “You must think yourself pretty clever, Mr. Bellamy.”
“I do alright for myself.”
“You really are arrogant.”
“That what Hotch called me?”
“Among other things.”
Ethan chuckles a little. “Man’s got some serious control issues.”
“His best friend’s life is at stake.”
“I think they go beyond that, Emily.”
“Do you?”
“Well what do you think he’d think of me being here, at your place, late at night?”
I say nothing.
Ethan grins. “You’re smiling cause you know I’m right.”
I feel my cheeks flush. He’s right; Hotch is a rules man; he sets them and only he can break them.
Ethan leans back. “So will you help me help Hotch?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it means pissing him off in the process?”
“If it helps Hotch and Sam, yes.”
“Good.” The man returns to his drink. “Reid said he was gonna contact some people tomorrow so he’ll be busy anyway.”
“Should you have Reid check the people through Hotch first?”
“Why?”
“So you’re just aiming for a fight with Aaron then?”
“I trust Reid’s read on people, doesn’t Hotch?”
“Well, sure, but -“
“I don’t particularly care either way, Hotch’s sense of security as the man in charge doesn’t concern me.” He shrugs. “I’ll let ya get to sleep, we’re gonna have a big day tomorrow.”
I get up, walk with him to the door. “We’re starting early?”
“Earlier the better. People are less likely to pay attention when tired, but the later it is the more on alert guards tend to be. They wanna make sure nothing goes wrong to fuck up their end of shift and make them stay late. I’ll pick you up.”
“You better come with coffee then.”
“Notta problem.”
***
I wake the next morning to the smells of coffee and Kahlua hovering over my nose. I’m still slow to get up until I realize that I should be alone in my apartment, then I’m up and going for the gun at my bedside.
The coffee sits on my dresser with a small card leaning on it.
Wake Up Emily. Big Day Ahead. Ethan.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan somewhere between tired, annoyed, and outright pissed off as I set the gun back where it belongs.
Then I hear the voice. Strong, deep, and Southern. “That you, Emily?” He’s in my kitchen if his voice is any indication. “I made the coffee, should still be warm, but if not I’ll make ya a new batch.”
“Isn’t part of the Southern culture to be charming and respectful?”
“I made us coffee.” His smirk spreads itself all over his voice.
“You broke into my house!”
He chuckles and steps out of the kitchen just as I come out in my robe, the coffee in hand. “Actually, I took your keys.”
I’m struck mute by the changes in him. He’s clean-shaven, hair cropped, in a nice three-piece suit. There isn’t a part of him that’s out of place; no more scrubby conman, he looks like a business professional. His brows lift a touch; I try to switch out my surprise for continued displeasure.
“What are you, a kleptomaniac?”
“No,” Ethan laughs. “I’m just someone who knows a late sleeper when he sees one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t think Hotch would like that much, you bein’ his girl and all.”
“I’m no one’s girl.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I won’t enter your home again without express permission,” Ethan states as he sets my keys on the small table in the dining area. “I just don’t think any of us got time to be waitin’ on anyone else at the moment. Clock’s tickin’.”
“You still suck.”
“Only when required.” He heads towards me with a pleasant smile. “You look very lovely for so early in the morning.”
“You think that’s going to earn you my forgiveness?”
“I’m still aimin’ on just not getting shot.”
My lips curl into a smile despite myself. Ethan reminds me of the types I used to enjoy, the bad boys. If he fucks us over I’ll kill him myself, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have a naughty little charm to him.
“You should wear something domineering.”
“Excuse me?” Too bad he doesn’t seem to know when to just shut his mouth and smile.
“You need to look tough, professional, but feminine. Like you’d threaten a guy’s goods right after giving him the best head of his life.”
“Colorful.”
“I think we can get something of an exclusive tour, be able to see what we really need to, by going one of two ways, press or government official. Official opens more doors I find.”
I nod some, sip the liquor-infused coffee, and find it much better than I expected. “Is that why you raided Hotch’s closet in the middle of the night?”
For a moment Ethan doesn’t seem to follow, then he laughs. “Well, I’ll confess, your man was the inspiration for this very serious ensemble.”
“He’s not my man.”
“He’s not your man, you’re no one’s girl.” He moves closer to me, to my bedroom. “Tell me, Emily, is it you that hates labels or is it Hotch?”
I sidestep the topic. “So what government office has their women dress like a dominatrix, exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter. If the serious faces and sunglasses don’t work then how you’ll look in the outfit will.”
“This how you used to pull cons? Use a sexy woman as distraction?”
“If I needed to.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were they girlfriends?” This time I step up to him.
Ethan does the same. “I don’t like labels.”
“Did they know what they were getting into? These…sexy women.”
I don’t know what game I’m playing with him, but my house suddenly seems like it is on fire. The heat between us is suffocating. Smoke should be filling the rooms; it would explain the sensation of dizziness overtaking me as he steps in even closer.
The voice goes deeper, but stays crystal clear. “I gave forewarning.”
“Oh really?”
His chest rises and falls swiftly; he has to force the air in and out of his lungs.
My voice climbs between the sheets. “So, are you going to tell me?”
A hand moves out, brushes hair off my shoulder. It settles at the back of my neck. “If you want to know.”
“Might be nice.”
Ethan pulls me into him. “Arrest or bein’ shot come to mind,” he whispers.
I begin to wonder who’s playing who now. “Good to know.” I step out of his touch, his reach, and smile.
Ethan seems unhurt, maybe even unaffected, by my sudden change in demeanor. He smiles and nods politely. “So, you gotta outfit in mind already or am I gonna hafta wait three hours for you to pick one?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to take a shower so how about you just go into my closet and pick out something you think might work?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“If you snoop, I’ll know.” I’m already heading past him for the bathroom. “And don’t call me ma’am.”
I hear him reply just as he had before, “yes ma’am”, as I shut the bathroom door behind me and start the water. I’m smiling, I can’t stop, but I don’t like it.
***
I go to pull the skirt down as I sit in whoever’s car Ethan decided to boost. “Could you have possibly picked a smaller skirt?” Another inch higher and I’ll be showing off my everything.
Ethan laughs. “You don’t exactly strike me as the modest type, Em, so what’s the problem?”
“I thought we were supposed to look professional?”
“You do.”
“No, I look like a professional.”
He gives up arguing and moves on. “Our credentials are in the glove box, can you pull ‘em out? We’re close.”
I dig them out and look them over some. “Federal marshals, huh?”
“They do a lot of different things so get a lot of slack when they say something is their job.”
“So do CIA and FBI agents.”
Ethan smirks. “Who’s gonna buy you as FBI in that get-up?”
I laugh as I stick my new credentials into the inner pocket of my jacket. “Reid didn’t tell us you were skilled at falsifying papers as well.”
“They aren’t completely falsified.”
“How do you mean?”
“They belonged to marshals once upon a time, then I made adjustments and now they’re ours.” There’s a darkness to Ethan’s answer that tells me there’s a larger, deeper, story to it all that I don’t want to ask about.
The prison looms large in the skyline, taking the place of Dracula’s castle for this horror story, and grows as we make our approach. By the time we get out of the car and go to the guard at the front it’s oppressive, intimidating, in its size.
“Lemme do most the talking,” Ethan says, easing out of his Southern accent into one I can’t identify.
“Sure thing.” I get the feeling he’s already planned every word, every interaction, and my stepping in would just risk the whole operation.
In all the times Hotch has visited the prison he never once had me go in with him. I figured it was a protective thing, maybe a privacy one, but either way it would be with Ethan that I’d first get the chance to pass through those gates. Under the guise of federal marshals, complete with papers, we’re allowed crossing into the inner sanctum of the prison to meet with the warden.
***
He’s a stout, measly, little man with longish white hair and glasses. His look and way of carrying himself is suited more for lecturing a classroom than watching over convicts.
“Hello, I am Warden Henry Grace Rothschild. How may I help you?” The warden speaks meticulously, addresses only Ethan. He won’t even catch my eyes from behind my sunglasses.
Ethan lets silence build until the other man shifts. “We’re here to look in on an inmate of yours, a Mr. Samuel Kassmeyer.”
“He’s due to be executed at the end of the week.”
“We’re aware.”
“Makes me ponder…why would two marshals need to see a dead man?”
“To make sure he dies the way he’s supposed to,” Ethan replies. His manner of speech, the forming of the words, is not unlike Hotch’s. “This man massacred at least four women that we’re aware of and the families want to see justice served.” He pauses, seems to count out the break. “I’m sure you want everything to go perfectly, Warden Rothschild, and we’d like to help you ensure that happens.”
Something in the last statement lights up the insides of Rothschild’s eyes and he almost smiles. All his defenses slip as he finds a like-minded individual. “Of course, Agent Walsh. You and your…fellow agent…have this prison’s complete co-operation.”
“Thank you.”
“If you’d like I could have one of the guards personally escort you around the premises,” the warden offers.
“That would be helpful, thank you,” Ethan replies before looking at me until I look back and then leading my gaze back to the warden with his own. “We’d also like to talk to Prisoner Kassmeyer privately. There are some things a man won’t say to anyone but those he thinks might be able to protect him.”
“Of course, of course. Consider yourself to have full access.” He scurries back behind his desk to his phone and hits a button. “Could you have C.O. Battle come to my office please?”
No more than five minutes pass when an attractive man about our age appears in the office with a smile that’s too smooth for its own good. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Ah, Jason Clark, I would like you to take these two marshals on a tour of the grounds and make sure they’re able to speak to prisoner Kassmeyer.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Battle waves us out of the room and introduces himself happily. He chatters throughout the tour. “Always happy to help.” “I broke up a fight over there just a few days ago.” “Not all the other guards are as aware as I am.” He’s playing hero for us and maybe some of his tales are true, but most strike me as bullshit.
Still I let him talk as I focus in on my surroundings. The halls are narrow, mazelike, and loud with the hoops and hollers of convicts. Guards seem to roam every alley and post at every corner. I don’t see how Sam, or anyone, would be able to get out of here. How in the hell has Ethan done it multiple times?
“How’s your infirmary?”
“Huh?” Battle is thrown off his latest hero rant so much he stops short and turns to us.
“Infirmaries are notorious weak points in prisons. How’s yours?”
The corrections officer takes the challenge almost personally and immediately whisks us off to the prison’s infirmary to inspect it. And now I can see how an escape might be possible. The guards are few and most of them are busy hitting on the nurses working there. If a prisoner wasn’t busying himself in surviving, recovering, or giving the guards competition with the ladies, he might be able to slip out without even being noticed.
A little of the old Ethan slips out when he gives a pretty young blonde a playful smirk as Battle chatters on about the alarms on the back door and whispers about the undercover in the bed they switch out every so often.
“It might look less secure, but I promise you it isn’t,” the guard assures.
Because Ethan seems distracted with nurses, because he’s starting to irritate, I speak up. “And what about the staff?”
“What about them?”
“They aren’t about to be manipulated by the convicts, are they?” I drawl.
“No, of course not, and if they were suspected of fraternizing they’d be fired.”
Ethan seems to snap out of whatever trance the pretty blonde’s ass has put him in and speaks. “Good, now show me the prisoner.”
“Yes sir!”
***
By the time we’re out of the prison I’m downright furious.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I demand the moment we’re in the car.
Ethan’s sunglasses look back at mine. “Excuse me?”
“You completely shut me out!”
He turns to start the car. “You didn’t need to know.”
“What do you mean I don’t need to know?”
“I mean that this’ll all work better if people only know what parts they have to play.”
“If something goes wrong and we’re in the dark about what one another is doing then we won’t be able to protect each other.”
“If something goes wrong and we all know each other’s business we can all be brought down,” Ethan counters as we drive away from the prison.
“We’re in this together, all of us, we don’t keep things from one another.”
“That you talkin’, or Hotchner?” The man’s too familiar smirk is back with the Southern twang.
“Fuck you!”
He chuckles and it irritates that way Rossi first used to, the way that makes me want to both hit and kiss him. Anything to stop that mouth of his.
I slap his arm.
“Relax, everythin’s fine.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I talked to Sam, let him know what’s going on, and what he’ll need to be prepared for.”
“And what’s that?”
“Can’t tell ya.”
I hit him again.
He laughs.
I hit him again, harder.
More laughter.
I hit again and again, I hit him until he swerves off the road and sirens blare behind us.
“Fuck.” I know exactly who it is; I don’t even have to check the review like Ethan does.
“Who is it?”
“Officer George Foyet.”
“He still got that hard on for you and Hotchner?” Ethan asks, pulling off his sunglasses and tossing them on the dash.
“Reid told you about all that?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t stop my own smirk. “You know, we could just shoot him.”
“No, we’re too close, it’ll raise too many alarms.” He undoes his seatbelt. “Put your seat back.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he orders even as he reaches over to do it himself.
I gasp a little as I fall back fast and hard. Ethan undoes my seatbelt. “What the hell?”
“We need to give this guy something to think about other than our location.” Ethan smiles at me. “Trust me and play along.”
He shifts quickly, though awkwardly, on top of me.
“You serious?” I laugh even as I slip a hand between us to pop out the buttons of my jacket and open it.
“It’s worked in the past.” Ethan chuckles a touch before his eyes dart up and then back to me. “Here he comes, make it good.”
Even just for a dirty show the man’s a good kisser; good enough to let me forget it’s an act as I kiss back and hum out a moan, good enough that I don’t mind his hand skimming the edge of my too-short skirt, good enough that my hands go to his belt on their own accord.
The knock on the window is what pulls me out of the little fantasy. Ethan breaks our kiss in the turn of a head and acts as if this is the first time he’s noticed any one else is around as he scrambles off me.
It isn’t until he’s back in his own seat, rolling down the window, that I notice his pants are open.
Ethan smiles politely. “Mornin’ Officer.”
“License and registration.”
“Sure,” Ethan smiles over at me. “Emily, could ya get that for me?”
“Of course, handsome.”
I watch Foyet’s stature change from boredom to deep interest just before he bends to peer into the car. He smirks, smiles, grins, and then laughs a little. “Well hello there, Emily Prentiss.”
“George Foyet,” I give a brusque reply as I make a show of trying to cover myself up.
“Officer George Foyet,” he corrects.
You’d think once you’d shot a guy, almost killed him, he’d want to avoid you. Not Foyet, he sees the whole thing as a fun and challenging game…I’m right up there with Hotch as one of his favorite playmates.
“So, what’s going on here?” the cop glances at Ethan a moment who smiles awkwardly as he does his pants back up before Foyet’s eyes return to mine. “A little fun on the side?”
I laugh. “We all have our secret indulgences.”
“But never for long.” Foyet gives a wink then returns his attention to Ethan. “I’ll let you off with a warning. Stay away from Prentiss, she’ll only bring you trouble. Have a good day.” The man stands and slaps the hood of the car twice as if releasing us from his control before heading back to his cruiser.
Ethan and I stay still in the car, waiting for Foyet to drive on, before speaking.
“He wasn’t that bad,” Ethan comments as he starts the car again.
“He was in a good mood,” I counter, doing up the last of my jacket buttons. “If he hadn’t been he’d have killed us…well, you at least.”
“Not you though?”
“That’s not how he works. First he destroys everything you love, everything that brings you happiness and peace of mind. Then he kills you.”
“He’s a real charmer.”
“Oh yeah, that’s him, Foyet the charmer.” My eyes roll with a sigh. After a moment of silence I turn to look at Ethan. “Are you going to tell me the plan to get Sam out now?”
“No.”
“Hotch will want to know.”
“Hotch will get the same information as everyone else working on this.”
“What you decide?”
“What they need to.”
“What you decide they need to.”
“Okay.” Ethan shrugs, uninterested in keeping up the debate. “Yeah.”
I look away, out my own window, to hide a slight smile. “You’re an asshole.”
“An asshole that you’ll all thank later.”
“Sam is his friend, he deserves to know.”
“The fact that he’s Sam’s friend is exactly why he can’t know, Emily,” he points out as he grabs the sunglasses off the dash and puts them back on.
“I disagree.”
“He’s too close. The things that have to be done to save his friend are high risk and he if knows all the details he’ll dick around trying to find a safer way and Sam doesn’t have that kind of time. Tonight I’ll share the basic layout of the plan with everyone, but not the details.”
“You’re still an asshole.” This time I let him see my smile.
Ethan laughs a little. “I never claimed not to be.”
“You know Hotch isn’t just going to give up because you say it’s for the best.”
“I’ve already figured that.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to, Emily.”
To Be Continued...
Next Section:
The Escape: Part 3
Previous Section:
The Escape: Part 1
Author: Tooks
Pairing/Characters: Aaron Hotcher/Emily Prentiss, Emily Prentiss/Ethan, Emily Prentiss/George Foyet, Jason Gideon/Lil Foyet, George Foyet/Lil Foyet...Jack and Sam are also in this.
Rating: FRAO
Summary: With the death sentence of wrongfully convicted best friend, Sam Kassmeyer, set Private Investigator Aaron “Hotch” Hotchner decides he can’t let it be carried out without a fight. But when fighting back includes breaking Sam out of prison Hotch’s limits are tested.
Beta'd by: Always helpful and incredibly awesome pink_siamese
Fanmix & Art by: Incredibly cool queenmidalah...art post here!
Additional Notes: This is "The Blonds Case" for the au_bigbang. Set in the Noir, "Living For the Night" (thanks to let_it_linger21). Rather than give warnings per-section let's just say there's going to be violence and sex abound, sometimes combined and some involving a teen, mild incest, and a character death. This section is in Emily's POV.
Reid rocks between the heels and balls of his feet as we wait for the train to arrive. I look around. “Are we at the right track? Is he coming in from Vegas?”
“Actually, um, he’s coming in from New Orleans.”
“New Orleans?” Only a slight change in my pitch indicates curiosity from behind my sunglasses.
“Yeah.” Reid shrugs. “He moves around a lot.”
“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that whole escaping from prison thing, would it?”
I spot the dimpling of Hotch’s cheeks.
“Actually, yes.”
Hotch looks at me. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“Of course.” Reid turns back to us. “Ethan’s helped me out plenty of times and most of those things I do for you and this team I learned from him.”
“You do more than pick locks and pockets, Reid.” Hotch states firmly.
While those talents have always proved helpful, they were never why Hotch kept the young man around. After all we were all able to do those things to a certain extent. Reid has skills beyond that. His knowledge is vast and detailed. He can read and dissect ransom notes, decode strange bits of information gained through contacts, and memorize what he’s read, even heard, in just one go. Without him we’d move at a snail’s pace.
Reid reddens a touch; he looks like a boy who has been praised by his father. “I know but…” he shrugs, “those things I did learn from Ethan are the types of things I’m guessing we’ll need to help Sam.”
The train starts to de-board.
I turn to him. “So which one is he, Dr Reid?”
“There he is!”
We look to where Reid points and rushes before we turn our heads to each other. “Is that at all what you expected?”
“From Reid? No, but then I’ve learned to expect the unexpected from most people over the years.”
Ethan was scruffy and easily twice the size of Dr. Reid, sure-footed, and gifted with natural charisma.
I fish out a cigarette. “You ever looked at someone and thought, ‘uh-oh, here comes trouble’?”
“The first moment I saw you,” Hotch answers smoothly.
I laugh.
“Guys,” says Reid. “This is Ethan.”
***
Only the most basic of pleasantries are exchanged before Hotch decides to get us out of the public and into his car.
“So, what’s the game, Reid?” Ethan asks with mild interest as his feet press into my seat.
“Free cell.”
“What’s the hand so far?”
Reid looks in the review mirror, catching eyes with Hotch and I briefly before looking away. “Eight, Queen, and Jack of Clubs with a King of Diamonds.”
“Any sevens of Spades?”
“No, but, uh, I know that, uh, a pair of sevens would be nice in that suit.”
Ethan nod, smiles, then smirks. “Well at least you got a Joker now.”
Reid nods with a smile. “In more ways than one.”
I know it’s all code. I know it’s Ethan asking about what’s going on, why his friend asked for his help, and who else is involved. I might not know all the details of the conversation, but I can decode enough of it to share a small, knowing, frown with Aaron. If this is what passes for stealth with this guy Sam could be in real trouble. I reach over to take Hotch’s hand, squeeze it with a comforting smile as he starts to explain the situation.
***
“So, how long until he’s switched to actual death row?” Ethan looks like he’s slouching on the couch, but he’s not. He’s relaxing. He relaxes like most ex-cons, always wary and ready to bolt.
“A week from today,” Hotch says.
Ethan whistles low and tense before turning to Reid, “You’re gonna need more people.”
Hotch arches an eyebrow. “Not everyone is here.”
Ethan’s eyes slide back to Hotch’s before he smiles. “Any them work in the prison?”
“No.”
“Then you’re gonna need more people.” He turns to Reid. “You need the sevens and a Jack of Spades wouldn’t be bad either.”
“Oh!” Reid gets excited. “Oh, we might have that card!”
“Jack of Spades?”
“Yeah.”
I look back and forth between them. “What the hell are you two talking about, exactly?”
It’s Reid who answers as Ethan lets out a loose and easy smirk. “Um, well, Rossi actually.”
“Jack of Spades means Rossi?” I repeat, thinking as I do, before smiling. “A gangster?”
Ethan smiles full and bright for the first time. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t ya?”
I give him my grandest of eye-rolls before the click, click, click of Garcia’s heels announce her return from dinner. “Hello boys and girls,” she chirps. “Did you have a successful day?” She heads straight for her desk to drop a stack of papers. “I know I did.”
“Garcia,” says Hotch. “This is Ethan, Reid’s…connection.”
She turns and claps her hands. “Oooh, the jailbird!”
Ethan and Reid laugh. Hotch and I try not to.
Ethan stands, still chuckling, as he heads over with his hand extended. “Just Ethan’s fine, darlin’, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Garcia takes it and he lifts her hand to his mouth.
“Well, you’re a smoothie, aren’t you?” she teases.
“I do all right,” Ethan says with a wink.
“Right,” she says, blushing a little. “As I was about to say, I talked to the Vaughns and they said they’d help with whatever they could and so did Josh Cramer. Oh and Morgan called and said that Father Marks can offer sanctuary if need be too.”
Hotch nods, “Not a bad start.”
“Not at all considering the rest were just not home so I get to try them all again.” Garcia announces happily.
“Just keep calling, Pen.”
“When able,” Ethan cuts in, “I’d like to meet the others.”
“For now, why don’t you stick to what you’re here for?”
Ethan just looks at Hotch, blinking, before his eyes scan the rest of us. He leans forward. “In order to help I kinda need to know all the players, now don’t I?"
“You’ll meet them tomorrow evening,” Hotch replies. “From now until then it might benefit to get a look at the prison, yes?”
“Sure.” Ethan looks at him and says with a chuckle, “Whatever you say, Boss.”
***
Hotch is no good for company and he tells me so when we end up at my place. I ask him if he’s sure, if he’ll be okay, and he says he just needs to think alone for awhile. He needs to think and plan and worry on his own. His kiss claims me before I’m allowed out of the car and inside.
Less than an hour later I’m showered, robed, and listening to Jace Everett as I sip my White Russian on the couch. I tend to prefer things with a stronger kick, but I need to mellow out, and the Russian will get me there; I need to forget the tensions of the day and the knowledge that it’ll increase as the days go on.
The knock startles a shake into my drink before I set it down. I get up, walk to the door, open it a crack.
“Emily, right?”
I step back and open the door. “You knew how to find me, but can’t recall my name?”
Ethan chuckles.“I remembered, I just wasn’t sure if I should call you that or if you preferred Prentiss or somethin’ else?”
“Why are you here?”
“Hotchner doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
“You need my confirmation on that?”
“Nah,” Ethan waves off the question. “I need your help with it. Can I come in?”
I do it because I don’t believe Dr Reid would bring us someone who couldn’t get the job done. I let him in because he’s right, Hotch doesn’t like him, doesn’t trust him. I let him in because he’s a man I can handle. I let Ethan in because he’s the type of man I’ve never been able to completely refuse.
“You want something to drink?” I relock the door and head over to the mini-bar.
He settles into the corner of my couch, lounges with an arm over the back. “I’ll have whatever you’re havin’.”
“White Russian?”
“Sure.”
“Look.” I pour in the milk. “With Hotch, trust is something you have to earn.”
“I don’t think his friend has time for that, Emily.”
“Sam.” I bring him his drink. “The man whose life you’re here to help save? His name is Sam.”
“Sam,” he takes the drink, sips, and sets it aside to look up at me. “Sam needs us all to be on the same page, Emily, and I’m way behind. Hotch is keeping me way behind.”
“He just…” I sigh and sit. “He doesn’t want to take a risk that’ll get Sam killed. This is a hard city to find someone to trust in, everyone has an ulterior motive and agenda.”
“I’m not from this city.”
“No.” I smirk. “You’re from New Orleans by way of Las Vegas, cities both known for citizens of high moral standing.”
Ethan picks up on the tease. “I never said I wasn’t a fella of low morals. I’m just not from this town so I got no other allegiance but to Reid, no other motive but to help ya’ll save your friend.”
I take a sip. “How is it you know Dr Reid anyway?”
“Went to school together.”
“You look older than him.”
“I am,” Ethan admits with a smile. “Five years older to be exact, but we were in the same classes. The genius thing.”
I smirk a touch, adjust myself as my body gravitates into his space on the couch. “He said you taught him things.”
“I did.” Ethan smirks back. “And he taught me things.”
“Like?”
“I taught him all the bad, he taught me there was good. Didn’t do much in helping me stay outta trouble, but it was something.”
“So what were you in prison for?”
“Which time, darlin’?”
I laugh. “Oh that’s comforting.”
Ethan’s closer to me, the tricky little fucker’s damn near closed the gap and I think that maybe I should back off, reestablish personal space, but I don’t.
“Cons, mostly. Maybe a few bar fights and outright thefts, but mostly it was just different cons and breakin’ out, of course.”
“You got caught after breaking out? That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
“What’d you think, I was some kinda savant at it?” He laughs. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “I had to learn through practice and, sometimes, that meant I got caught. My last escape was about ten years ago though and I ain’t been caught yet.”
“Maybe because you sound like a Southerner?”
“Excuse me?”
“Reid said you two grew up together in Vegas, but you came in from New Orleans and, if I wasn’t told otherwise, I’d have thought you were from there. You adopted the southern persona, complete with accent, to fit in better, yes?”
Ethan’s holds his arms up playfully. “Caught me.”
I smile, and as he goes to take a sip of his drink he leans into me more, brushes his arm against mine.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna go check out the prison,” he says. “I’d like you come with me.”
“Couldn’t Reid help you with that?”
“Two men go into a prison together they’ve either done something wrong or are about to ‘cause they’re casing the joint. Man and a woman go in together?” Ethan shrugs as he finishes his sip, sets his glass down. “Well that’s just a unique date.”
“So bring Garcia.”
Ethan laughs and I give a slight scowl.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Garcia seems a great girl,” he chuckles. “But I’m not sure she could handle it.”
“Garcia can handle more than you’d think.”
“Okay, lemme put it another way. I think Garcia, amazin’ as she is, might call attention to herself there. She’s too happy, too bubbly, and too bright to fly under the radar on this. Also, if I need to lie a little, I need someone to play whatever part I need.”
“And that’s me?”
“I think so.”
“Why’s that?”
Ethan looks me up and down. “You strike me as the type who’s played parts before.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.”
“And what parts are those?”
“Whatever parts you’ve needed, I’m sure.” He winks.
I laugh. “You must think yourself pretty clever, Mr. Bellamy.”
“I do alright for myself.”
“You really are arrogant.”
“That what Hotch called me?”
“Among other things.”
Ethan chuckles a little. “Man’s got some serious control issues.”
“His best friend’s life is at stake.”
“I think they go beyond that, Emily.”
“Do you?”
“Well what do you think he’d think of me being here, at your place, late at night?”
I say nothing.
Ethan grins. “You’re smiling cause you know I’m right.”
I feel my cheeks flush. He’s right; Hotch is a rules man; he sets them and only he can break them.
Ethan leans back. “So will you help me help Hotch?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it means pissing him off in the process?”
“If it helps Hotch and Sam, yes.”
“Good.” The man returns to his drink. “Reid said he was gonna contact some people tomorrow so he’ll be busy anyway.”
“Should you have Reid check the people through Hotch first?”
“Why?”
“So you’re just aiming for a fight with Aaron then?”
“I trust Reid’s read on people, doesn’t Hotch?”
“Well, sure, but -“
“I don’t particularly care either way, Hotch’s sense of security as the man in charge doesn’t concern me.” He shrugs. “I’ll let ya get to sleep, we’re gonna have a big day tomorrow.”
I get up, walk with him to the door. “We’re starting early?”
“Earlier the better. People are less likely to pay attention when tired, but the later it is the more on alert guards tend to be. They wanna make sure nothing goes wrong to fuck up their end of shift and make them stay late. I’ll pick you up.”
“You better come with coffee then.”
“Notta problem.”
***
I wake the next morning to the smells of coffee and Kahlua hovering over my nose. I’m still slow to get up until I realize that I should be alone in my apartment, then I’m up and going for the gun at my bedside.
The coffee sits on my dresser with a small card leaning on it.
Wake Up Emily. Big Day Ahead. Ethan.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan somewhere between tired, annoyed, and outright pissed off as I set the gun back where it belongs.
Then I hear the voice. Strong, deep, and Southern. “That you, Emily?” He’s in my kitchen if his voice is any indication. “I made the coffee, should still be warm, but if not I’ll make ya a new batch.”
“Isn’t part of the Southern culture to be charming and respectful?”
“I made us coffee.” His smirk spreads itself all over his voice.
“You broke into my house!”
He chuckles and steps out of the kitchen just as I come out in my robe, the coffee in hand. “Actually, I took your keys.”
I’m struck mute by the changes in him. He’s clean-shaven, hair cropped, in a nice three-piece suit. There isn’t a part of him that’s out of place; no more scrubby conman, he looks like a business professional. His brows lift a touch; I try to switch out my surprise for continued displeasure.
“What are you, a kleptomaniac?”
“No,” Ethan laughs. “I’m just someone who knows a late sleeper when he sees one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t think Hotch would like that much, you bein’ his girl and all.”
“I’m no one’s girl.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I won’t enter your home again without express permission,” Ethan states as he sets my keys on the small table in the dining area. “I just don’t think any of us got time to be waitin’ on anyone else at the moment. Clock’s tickin’.”
“You still suck.”
“Only when required.” He heads towards me with a pleasant smile. “You look very lovely for so early in the morning.”
“You think that’s going to earn you my forgiveness?”
“I’m still aimin’ on just not getting shot.”
My lips curl into a smile despite myself. Ethan reminds me of the types I used to enjoy, the bad boys. If he fucks us over I’ll kill him myself, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have a naughty little charm to him.
“You should wear something domineering.”
“Excuse me?” Too bad he doesn’t seem to know when to just shut his mouth and smile.
“You need to look tough, professional, but feminine. Like you’d threaten a guy’s goods right after giving him the best head of his life.”
“Colorful.”
“I think we can get something of an exclusive tour, be able to see what we really need to, by going one of two ways, press or government official. Official opens more doors I find.”
I nod some, sip the liquor-infused coffee, and find it much better than I expected. “Is that why you raided Hotch’s closet in the middle of the night?”
For a moment Ethan doesn’t seem to follow, then he laughs. “Well, I’ll confess, your man was the inspiration for this very serious ensemble.”
“He’s not my man.”
“He’s not your man, you’re no one’s girl.” He moves closer to me, to my bedroom. “Tell me, Emily, is it you that hates labels or is it Hotch?”
I sidestep the topic. “So what government office has their women dress like a dominatrix, exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter. If the serious faces and sunglasses don’t work then how you’ll look in the outfit will.”
“This how you used to pull cons? Use a sexy woman as distraction?”
“If I needed to.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were they girlfriends?” This time I step up to him.
Ethan does the same. “I don’t like labels.”
“Did they know what they were getting into? These…sexy women.”
I don’t know what game I’m playing with him, but my house suddenly seems like it is on fire. The heat between us is suffocating. Smoke should be filling the rooms; it would explain the sensation of dizziness overtaking me as he steps in even closer.
The voice goes deeper, but stays crystal clear. “I gave forewarning.”
“Oh really?”
His chest rises and falls swiftly; he has to force the air in and out of his lungs.
My voice climbs between the sheets. “So, are you going to tell me?”
A hand moves out, brushes hair off my shoulder. It settles at the back of my neck. “If you want to know.”
“Might be nice.”
Ethan pulls me into him. “Arrest or bein’ shot come to mind,” he whispers.
I begin to wonder who’s playing who now. “Good to know.” I step out of his touch, his reach, and smile.
Ethan seems unhurt, maybe even unaffected, by my sudden change in demeanor. He smiles and nods politely. “So, you gotta outfit in mind already or am I gonna hafta wait three hours for you to pick one?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to take a shower so how about you just go into my closet and pick out something you think might work?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“If you snoop, I’ll know.” I’m already heading past him for the bathroom. “And don’t call me ma’am.”
I hear him reply just as he had before, “yes ma’am”, as I shut the bathroom door behind me and start the water. I’m smiling, I can’t stop, but I don’t like it.
***
I go to pull the skirt down as I sit in whoever’s car Ethan decided to boost. “Could you have possibly picked a smaller skirt?” Another inch higher and I’ll be showing off my everything.
Ethan laughs. “You don’t exactly strike me as the modest type, Em, so what’s the problem?”
“I thought we were supposed to look professional?”
“You do.”
“No, I look like a professional.”
He gives up arguing and moves on. “Our credentials are in the glove box, can you pull ‘em out? We’re close.”
I dig them out and look them over some. “Federal marshals, huh?”
“They do a lot of different things so get a lot of slack when they say something is their job.”
“So do CIA and FBI agents.”
Ethan smirks. “Who’s gonna buy you as FBI in that get-up?”
I laugh as I stick my new credentials into the inner pocket of my jacket. “Reid didn’t tell us you were skilled at falsifying papers as well.”
“They aren’t completely falsified.”
“How do you mean?”
“They belonged to marshals once upon a time, then I made adjustments and now they’re ours.” There’s a darkness to Ethan’s answer that tells me there’s a larger, deeper, story to it all that I don’t want to ask about.
The prison looms large in the skyline, taking the place of Dracula’s castle for this horror story, and grows as we make our approach. By the time we get out of the car and go to the guard at the front it’s oppressive, intimidating, in its size.
“Lemme do most the talking,” Ethan says, easing out of his Southern accent into one I can’t identify.
“Sure thing.” I get the feeling he’s already planned every word, every interaction, and my stepping in would just risk the whole operation.
In all the times Hotch has visited the prison he never once had me go in with him. I figured it was a protective thing, maybe a privacy one, but either way it would be with Ethan that I’d first get the chance to pass through those gates. Under the guise of federal marshals, complete with papers, we’re allowed crossing into the inner sanctum of the prison to meet with the warden.
***
He’s a stout, measly, little man with longish white hair and glasses. His look and way of carrying himself is suited more for lecturing a classroom than watching over convicts.
“Hello, I am Warden Henry Grace Rothschild. How may I help you?” The warden speaks meticulously, addresses only Ethan. He won’t even catch my eyes from behind my sunglasses.
Ethan lets silence build until the other man shifts. “We’re here to look in on an inmate of yours, a Mr. Samuel Kassmeyer.”
“He’s due to be executed at the end of the week.”
“We’re aware.”
“Makes me ponder…why would two marshals need to see a dead man?”
“To make sure he dies the way he’s supposed to,” Ethan replies. His manner of speech, the forming of the words, is not unlike Hotch’s. “This man massacred at least four women that we’re aware of and the families want to see justice served.” He pauses, seems to count out the break. “I’m sure you want everything to go perfectly, Warden Rothschild, and we’d like to help you ensure that happens.”
Something in the last statement lights up the insides of Rothschild’s eyes and he almost smiles. All his defenses slip as he finds a like-minded individual. “Of course, Agent Walsh. You and your…fellow agent…have this prison’s complete co-operation.”
“Thank you.”
“If you’d like I could have one of the guards personally escort you around the premises,” the warden offers.
“That would be helpful, thank you,” Ethan replies before looking at me until I look back and then leading my gaze back to the warden with his own. “We’d also like to talk to Prisoner Kassmeyer privately. There are some things a man won’t say to anyone but those he thinks might be able to protect him.”
“Of course, of course. Consider yourself to have full access.” He scurries back behind his desk to his phone and hits a button. “Could you have C.O. Battle come to my office please?”
No more than five minutes pass when an attractive man about our age appears in the office with a smile that’s too smooth for its own good. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
“Ah, Jason Clark, I would like you to take these two marshals on a tour of the grounds and make sure they’re able to speak to prisoner Kassmeyer.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Battle waves us out of the room and introduces himself happily. He chatters throughout the tour. “Always happy to help.” “I broke up a fight over there just a few days ago.” “Not all the other guards are as aware as I am.” He’s playing hero for us and maybe some of his tales are true, but most strike me as bullshit.
Still I let him talk as I focus in on my surroundings. The halls are narrow, mazelike, and loud with the hoops and hollers of convicts. Guards seem to roam every alley and post at every corner. I don’t see how Sam, or anyone, would be able to get out of here. How in the hell has Ethan done it multiple times?
“How’s your infirmary?”
“Huh?” Battle is thrown off his latest hero rant so much he stops short and turns to us.
“Infirmaries are notorious weak points in prisons. How’s yours?”
The corrections officer takes the challenge almost personally and immediately whisks us off to the prison’s infirmary to inspect it. And now I can see how an escape might be possible. The guards are few and most of them are busy hitting on the nurses working there. If a prisoner wasn’t busying himself in surviving, recovering, or giving the guards competition with the ladies, he might be able to slip out without even being noticed.
A little of the old Ethan slips out when he gives a pretty young blonde a playful smirk as Battle chatters on about the alarms on the back door and whispers about the undercover in the bed they switch out every so often.
“It might look less secure, but I promise you it isn’t,” the guard assures.
Because Ethan seems distracted with nurses, because he’s starting to irritate, I speak up. “And what about the staff?”
“What about them?”
“They aren’t about to be manipulated by the convicts, are they?” I drawl.
“No, of course not, and if they were suspected of fraternizing they’d be fired.”
Ethan seems to snap out of whatever trance the pretty blonde’s ass has put him in and speaks. “Good, now show me the prisoner.”
“Yes sir!”
***
By the time we’re out of the prison I’m downright furious.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I demand the moment we’re in the car.
Ethan’s sunglasses look back at mine. “Excuse me?”
“You completely shut me out!”
He turns to start the car. “You didn’t need to know.”
“What do you mean I don’t need to know?”
“I mean that this’ll all work better if people only know what parts they have to play.”
“If something goes wrong and we’re in the dark about what one another is doing then we won’t be able to protect each other.”
“If something goes wrong and we all know each other’s business we can all be brought down,” Ethan counters as we drive away from the prison.
“We’re in this together, all of us, we don’t keep things from one another.”
“That you talkin’, or Hotchner?” The man’s too familiar smirk is back with the Southern twang.
“Fuck you!”
He chuckles and it irritates that way Rossi first used to, the way that makes me want to both hit and kiss him. Anything to stop that mouth of his.
I slap his arm.
“Relax, everythin’s fine.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I talked to Sam, let him know what’s going on, and what he’ll need to be prepared for.”
“And what’s that?”
“Can’t tell ya.”
I hit him again.
He laughs.
I hit him again, harder.
More laughter.
I hit again and again, I hit him until he swerves off the road and sirens blare behind us.
“Fuck.” I know exactly who it is; I don’t even have to check the review like Ethan does.
“Who is it?”
“Officer George Foyet.”
“He still got that hard on for you and Hotchner?” Ethan asks, pulling off his sunglasses and tossing them on the dash.
“Reid told you about all that?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t stop my own smirk. “You know, we could just shoot him.”
“No, we’re too close, it’ll raise too many alarms.” He undoes his seatbelt. “Put your seat back.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he orders even as he reaches over to do it himself.
I gasp a little as I fall back fast and hard. Ethan undoes my seatbelt. “What the hell?”
“We need to give this guy something to think about other than our location.” Ethan smiles at me. “Trust me and play along.”
He shifts quickly, though awkwardly, on top of me.
“You serious?” I laugh even as I slip a hand between us to pop out the buttons of my jacket and open it.
“It’s worked in the past.” Ethan chuckles a touch before his eyes dart up and then back to me. “Here he comes, make it good.”
Even just for a dirty show the man’s a good kisser; good enough to let me forget it’s an act as I kiss back and hum out a moan, good enough that I don’t mind his hand skimming the edge of my too-short skirt, good enough that my hands go to his belt on their own accord.
The knock on the window is what pulls me out of the little fantasy. Ethan breaks our kiss in the turn of a head and acts as if this is the first time he’s noticed any one else is around as he scrambles off me.
It isn’t until he’s back in his own seat, rolling down the window, that I notice his pants are open.
Ethan smiles politely. “Mornin’ Officer.”
“License and registration.”
“Sure,” Ethan smiles over at me. “Emily, could ya get that for me?”
“Of course, handsome.”
I watch Foyet’s stature change from boredom to deep interest just before he bends to peer into the car. He smirks, smiles, grins, and then laughs a little. “Well hello there, Emily Prentiss.”
“George Foyet,” I give a brusque reply as I make a show of trying to cover myself up.
“Officer George Foyet,” he corrects.
You’d think once you’d shot a guy, almost killed him, he’d want to avoid you. Not Foyet, he sees the whole thing as a fun and challenging game…I’m right up there with Hotch as one of his favorite playmates.
“So, what’s going on here?” the cop glances at Ethan a moment who smiles awkwardly as he does his pants back up before Foyet’s eyes return to mine. “A little fun on the side?”
I laugh. “We all have our secret indulgences.”
“But never for long.” Foyet gives a wink then returns his attention to Ethan. “I’ll let you off with a warning. Stay away from Prentiss, she’ll only bring you trouble. Have a good day.” The man stands and slaps the hood of the car twice as if releasing us from his control before heading back to his cruiser.
Ethan and I stay still in the car, waiting for Foyet to drive on, before speaking.
“He wasn’t that bad,” Ethan comments as he starts the car again.
“He was in a good mood,” I counter, doing up the last of my jacket buttons. “If he hadn’t been he’d have killed us…well, you at least.”
“Not you though?”
“That’s not how he works. First he destroys everything you love, everything that brings you happiness and peace of mind. Then he kills you.”
“He’s a real charmer.”
“Oh yeah, that’s him, Foyet the charmer.” My eyes roll with a sigh. After a moment of silence I turn to look at Ethan. “Are you going to tell me the plan to get Sam out now?”
“No.”
“Hotch will want to know.”
“Hotch will get the same information as everyone else working on this.”
“What you decide?”
“What they need to.”
“What you decide they need to.”
“Okay.” Ethan shrugs, uninterested in keeping up the debate. “Yeah.”
I look away, out my own window, to hide a slight smile. “You’re an asshole.”
“An asshole that you’ll all thank later.”
“Sam is his friend, he deserves to know.”
“The fact that he’s Sam’s friend is exactly why he can’t know, Emily,” he points out as he grabs the sunglasses off the dash and puts them back on.
“I disagree.”
“He’s too close. The things that have to be done to save his friend are high risk and he if knows all the details he’ll dick around trying to find a safer way and Sam doesn’t have that kind of time. Tonight I’ll share the basic layout of the plan with everyone, but not the details.”
“You’re still an asshole.” This time I let him see my smile.
Ethan laughs a little. “I never claimed not to be.”
“You know Hotch isn’t just going to give up because you say it’s for the best.”
“I’ve already figured that.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to, Emily.”
To Be Continued...
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The Escape: Part 3
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The Escape: Part 1