Any Means Necessary (a Luke Stone Thriller-Book #1)

Chapter Fifty Four

3:23 a.m.

Municipal DetentionCenter - Washington, DC

Everything was white.

The walls and the floors were white. The overhead lights were bright and white. The sliding electronic metal gates that slid open and clanged shut behind him were painted white.

They processed Luke and put him in a holding cell with half a dozen other men. The room was large. It was white, with dirty handprints all over the walls. The floor was white, going toward dingy gray from the bottoms of a thousand pairs of sneakers. There was a urinal and a toilet built into one wall. The floor sloped very gradually toward the middle, where there was a small, round open drain.

A dirty white bench ringed the walls of the cell, reaching almost halfway around. Luke paced the cell for several minutes while the other men watched him. He was the only white man in the room. That didn't bother him. He barely noticed the other men. It was just being trapped in here. It was not being in motion. He couldn't stand it.

Somewhere out there, Becca and Gunner were in the hands of bad people. Luke might be kidding himself, but he sensed that they were still alive. If so, he needed to get out of here and find them. He would never stop, never, until he found them again. And God help the men who had them.

No. That was wrong. No one could help them.

If they laid so much as a finger...

Now that he was stuck in here, he could feel the rage begin to boil inside him. The Vice President, the car chase, all of it—it had taken his mind off things. But now there was nothing to distract him.

Then, of course, there was Susan Hopkins. He had left her with Ed, and Brenna and Berg. They were capable men, especially Ed. But if Luke was still alive, he should really be there with them.

He felt like screaming.

He walked over to the bench and sat down. Within a minute, a guy had peeled himself off the bench along the far wall and ambled over to Luke. He was a big young guy, well-muscled, with a Chicago Bulls jersey on. He had a crazy tangled mass of Afro atop his head. He smiled, and one of his front teeth was gold.

He crouched down in front of Luke.

"Hey, bro, you okay?"

A quiet round of titters and chuckles went around among the men in the cell.

Luke looked at him. "The President died tonight. Bro."

The guy nodded. "Heard about that. I guess that don't really bother me. Never voted for the man."

Luke shrugged. "Can I help you?"

The guy gestured with his chin. "I noticed your boots. They're nice."

Now Luke nodded. He looked down at his own feet and the leather boots he was wearing. "You're right. They are nice. My wife gave them to me last Christmas."

"What kind are they?"

"They're Ferragamo. I think she paid about six hundred bucks for them. My wife likes to buy me nice things. She knows I'd never buy them for myself."

"Give them to me," the young guy said.

Luke shook his head. "I can't do that. They have sentimental value. Anyway, I don't think they would fit you."

"I want them."

Luke looked around the cell. Every set of eyes was on him. He could imagine how for someone, this might be a tense and frightening situation.

"I think you better go sit down," he said. "I'm not in a very good mood right now."

The kid's eyes flashed anger. "Give me those shoes."

Luke rolled his eyes. "You want them? Take them."

The kid nodded and smiled. He glanced around the cell. Now there was outright laughter. The big tough thug was going to steal the white man's shoes. He leaned in and reached for Luke's feet.

Luke paused a beat, then kicked the kid in the mouth. It was a lightning strike. The kid's head snapped back. Teeth went flying, maybe three of them in all. One was the gold tooth in the front. The kid fell backwards. He ended up on his knees, bent over, his hands to his mouth.

Luke sighed. He stood up, stepped up behind the kid, and punched him hard in the back of the neck, right where the spinal column attached to the bottom of the skull. The kid collapsed to the grimy floor. His eyes rolled back. In a few seconds, he was unconscious. A few seconds later, he started making an odd snoring sound.

Luke looked around the cell. He had been in a bad mood before. The young shoe robber had only made it worse. Luke would beat every man in here half to death, if that's what they wanted from him.

"The next man who fucks with me loses all his teeth," he said, loud enough that everyone could hear him.

They all stared back, mouths agape, then all finally looked away. Their eyes, so filled with bloodlust but moments before, were now filled with something else: fear.