Page 1 of Hidden Rocco
Chapter 1
The tunnel just underneath the prison smelled like the sewer, though it was meant for water disposal in case of flooding. The walls glistened with slime.
Rocco Hellsworth was sure that even if they managed this escape as planned, the stench would be in his bones.
He glanced behind him.
Bear, his cellmate, easily carried the plastic garbage bag with clothes they’d acquired months ago and stashed for their escape. He was built like a wrestler on TV, and just as strong.
Sweat beaded on his brow as they scrambled, half-hunched, on the slick floor toward the end of the sewer line.
Freedom. Once Rocco cleared the prison, he would find his mother and convince her to take care of her health.
Cancer could be treated, but she'd refused because she thought she had nothing left; two dead sons and one falsely imprisoned, unable to help.
Years of the straight and narrow life hadn’t changed anything when he'd been accused of robbery. He'd taken the rap for his brother, Roger, who had ended up six feet under anyhow, along with their other brother, Harry.
Rocco used his butter knife to open the metal screws of the sewer from below.
His forearms flexed, his lean muscles hard from prison labor, and before that, his life as a Marine. He and Bear yanked backward together.
A grunt escaped his lips as the screech of the old metal gave way. Fresh night air from outside wafted into his nostrils.
Freedom smelled sweeter than sewage.
He swallowed, afraid to hope, as he slapped his cellmate on the back. “Bear, the second we're out, goodbye.”
Bear gave him a mock salute. “Rock, you’ll never see me again.”
He hoped that was true, and this was the end of their journey. Bear, in jail for armed robbery, wasn’t a good man--but there’d been zero way out without bringing his roommate.
Rocco’s new mission would be to show his mother she had reason to get help. He stripped off his prison shirt. “Give me my clothes.”
They each tossed their uniforms in the tunnel, and Bear ripped into the plastic bag. The bigger clothes went to Bear.
Rocco’s lean body meant his stolen clothes sagged, but Bear grunted as he pulled his on and said, “My jeans are tight.”
They fit, and that was all that mattered. Rocco peered out of the manhole cover that he’d half propped to the side and gazed up and down the road.
No police cars. No alarms. Just black tar, parked cars and street lights. His muscles tightened. “Tight is better than orange.”
“True enough.” Bear glanced out beside him. Any second, police might arrive and he and Bear had to part ways.
He’d never see, hear, smell, or listen to Bear, ever again.No one would swear at him in the middle of the night for no reason.
Most importantly, he’d see his mother.
He pushed open the cap all the way and climbed onto the wet pavement.
It must have rained.
He reached down to help Bear, as he’d helped out his team when on a mission—Rocco wouldn’t leave any man behind.
Bear took his hand despite the fact he was a hundred pounds heavier and Rocco steadied him on the quiet road.
He wiped his hands clean, wishing he could ditch the sewer smell, and checked the side street. He’d chosen this spot after researching the original sewer designs, as it was two blocks away from the prison, with lots of houses to cover their escape. The homes behind fences all had their lights out as he and Bear silently put the lid back on.
He shookhis escape partner’s hand.
