The Same End (The Lamb and the Lion Book 3)

by Gregory Ashe

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ve got a plan.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

  “You don’t have a plan. You never have plans. You always want to riff or whatever you call it when you pull the whole thing out of your butt.”

  Jem smirked. “First of all, it really loses something when you say butt instead of ass. And second, I’m fucking fantastic at riffing. Watch this. When I go down, put as many rocks as you can in my pocket.”

  “What—”

  Scree on the slickrock worked like ball bearings, and on Tean’s next step, Jem stumbled into him. Tean’s foot slid on several loose stones. He tried to catch himself on the branch of a dead yellowleaf, but he was moving too fast, and it ripped out of his hand. The bark scraped his palm raw, and he landed hard on his butt. Jem stumbled against the scrubby slope, let out a pained wheeze, and dropped to the ground.

  On his knees, Tean scrambled closer and bent over Jem. He followed Jem’s instructions, filling his pocket with rocks while pretending to check him for injuries and help him sit up. By the time Jem was upright again, Jem’s face was green, and he stumbled to the edge of the trail and puked downhill. Haggerty watched from the switch above them.

  “That was a fucking terrible idea,” Jem whispered as Tean urged him down the trail again. “Why did I let you talk me into it?”

  “It was your idea. And you said you were going to fall, not that we both were.”

  “That was part of the riffing,” Jem said. “Fuck, my ribs. I really should have thought that through.”

  In spite of everything that was going on around them, Tean was remarkably proud of himself for managing not to say anything to that.

  Night came quickly on dark wings, brooding over the lower canyon. Shadow swallowed the pinyon and juniper, the tamarisk and cottonwood, the sedge and reeds and sego lilies along the Dolores’s banks. The cabin, in its tangle of salt cedar, looked like a burned-out thing as night took it: an afterimage of char, and then nothing. The redrock walls, banded with pale tan and gray green and ocher, turned blue. Then purple. Then dusklight robbed them of any color at all, just a silvery wash that clung to everything like desert varnish.

  Something exploded when they set foot on the lower canyon floor.

  Tean jerked to a stop. Jem laughed, and after a moment, behind them, Haggerty chuckled too. Then Tean saw above the rimrock: trailing sparks of red and green. Another explosion, and then the pop and crackle of silver and blue flowering overhead.

  “Fucking Pioneer Day fireworks,” Haggerty said, his voice so relieved that Tean suddenly understood how tense the man had been.

  “They’re going to start a fire,” Tean said.

  Jem nudged him forward. “Maybe Officer Haggerty will write them a ticket. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Sand sage bristled and crackled when they pushed through it. Wiregrass, when they stomped a path through it, sounded like a bonfire. Drawn by the river, gnats clouded together in the air, and bats swooped and looped over the water for their evening meal. Along the bank, a scraggly patch of cattails quivered, and then golden eyes blinked out at Tean. He remembered the last time he had seen a coyote, how Jem’s face had lit up. He said nothing, and the trickster eyes winked out.

  The cabin was built on a raised foundation of irregular sandstone slabs. The logs looked like cottonwood that had been harvested in the canyon, probably along the river, and the adobe chinking was chipped and gone in many places, exposing holes into the darkened interior. Tean steadied Jem as they went up to the porch. Jem tilted his head, and they moved to one side. Haggerty waited below.

  “Knock,” Jem whispered.

  Tean stretched around him and knocked.

  No answer. The Dolores was a white hiss in Tean’s ears.

  “Push it open,” Jem whispered. “If you can.”

  Tean sidled past Jem, tested the handle, and felt it turn. Jem tensed behind him. Drawing a breath, Tean shoved the door open. It flew inwards, crashed against the wall, and wobbled back.

  Silence inside. Darkness.

  “So much for that,” Jem said in a normal voice. “Do you have a flashlight?”

  Haggerty’s answer was to click on a penlight. He played it across their feet and through the half-open door. The light picked out the uneven boards, tracks in the dust, a riverstone hearth.

  “Where the fuck is the cargo?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Jem said. “Look around.”

  Jem went first. Tean followed. The cabin smelled closed up, like dry rot and the faintest hint of juniper smoke. Enough ambient light allowed Tean to make out the shapes in the single room. Several empty bunks. A wood-burning stove full of ash. A ceramic basin with a cracked pitcher next to it. A back door that led out toward the salt cedar tangle and the river. Just the essentials, built decades ago for a ranger who might spend the night. Campers might be able to rent the place now; many of the cabins had been repurposed that way.

  Steps rang out on the porch, and Tean turned. Haggerty moved into the doorway. The penlight swept the room; Ammon’s gun was the shadow that followed. In the darkness, the only clear part of Haggerty’s face were his eyes.

  A red dot moved across the jamb behind Haggerty.

  Tean had just enough time to think that it looked like a laser pointer.

  Then Haggerty’s head exploded.

  39

  Weight bore Tean down, pinning him to the floor, and he struggled to get free. Then he heard Jem’s pained grunt and stopped moving. The gunshot rang out across the valley, sounding not much different than the distant pop of the fireworks. Then another noise: a soft, wet sound. Dripping. Tean felt himself start to shake.

  “Stay right here,” Jem breathed into his ear. “You’re safe, but I need you to stay right here.”

  After a moment, Tean jerked his head in a nod.

  Jem crabbed away on his knees, twisting around to try to drag Haggerty’s body farther into the cabin. The pain must have been intense because he swore softly, then loudly, and then he gave up. With his hands cuffed behind him, and with his injured ribs, he couldn’t manage to move the body. Swearing, Jem contorted himself again.

  Haggerty lay only a few feet away, his ruined head in Tean’s line of sight. Brain and bone and blood made an arc across the floor, the walls, even the beams and rafters above them. The smell of violated body cavities filled the air.

  Jem was making a long, despairing noise as he tried again to move the body.

  Tean rolled onto hands and knees, crawled across the cabin, and touched Jem’s shoulder. Jem panted and shook his head. Tean nodded, and after a moment, Jem crabbed away from the body. Tean watched the doorway, waiting for the red dot of the laser sight to drift into view again, but everything was a dark. Then he grabbed Haggerty’s utility belt and hauled the dead man into the room.

  “Keys,” Jem whispered.

  It took Tean a few fumbling tries to free them from the belt and unlock the cuffs. Jem wrung his wrists and let out a shaky breath. He reached for Ammon’s gun, which had fallen from Haggerty’s hand and was now halfway under one of the bunks, spotlighted by the small flashlight.

  The back door flew open, and a tall, well-built man stepped into the cabin. In the weak glow from the penlight, Tean could make out a few details: he had dark hair and dark eyes, and he looked like he’d been living rough for a while. Dirt smudged his face, his eyes were hollow, and several days’ scruff covered his cheeks. Rage flooded Jem’s face, and Tean knew this was Tanner Kimball.

  Jem lunged for Ammon’s gun. Tanner was faster, firing his own gun first. The gunshot was louder than a thunderclap inside the small cabin, and Tean’s ears rang with it. Jem cried out and fell to the ground, a hand over his arm where blood ran thick and dark between his fingers. Tanner took two more quick steps into the room, bent, and grabbed Ammon’s gun in his free hand. Then ripped Hag
gerty’s from its holster and retreated until he stood at the back door, which he braced open with one foot. The smell of the river flowed into the cabin.

  “Who the fuck are you two?”

  Jem was hyperventilating. He’d taken the bullet high in his arm, and there was a lot of blood, but Tean needed to see the wound before he could decide how bad it was. Not the brachial artery. Not enough blood for that. But it could still be bad, very bad.

  “Who the fuck are we?” Jem roared. He was trying to sit up, but he couldn’t seem to do it. “Who the fuck are we, motherfucker?”

  Tean shifted his weight to crawl forward, but Tanner swung Ammon’s gun in his direction. The other gun, Tanner’s gun, was still trained on Jem.

  “He needs medical attention,” Tean said as calmly as he could. His brain was cycling up, trying to process the immediate chain of events: Haggerty shot and killed, the back door opening, Tanner’s appearance. “I’m going to take a look.”

  “Stay right where you are.”

  “I’m just going to take a look. You’re going to need help getting out of this, so you can’t afford to kill us. How long has Kristine had you pinned down?”

  Tanner’s eyes looked dead as they fixed on Tean. “Who the fuck is Kristine?”

  “How long?”

  “About six hours. Christ, the dump I’ve got to take.”

  Curled up on the floor, Jem started to laugh. “He’s got to take a dump. This gaping cumhole has been inconvenienced because he needs to drop a deuce. Holy fucking shit.”

  “Where’s the meth?”

  “There are no drugs, you fucking imbecile. Jesus Christ, somebody give this guy a clue.”

  Tean crawled over to Jem. Some of the blood on Jem’s fingers was already sticky, but mostly it was slick and hot. Tean pulled Jem’s hand away from the wound, ignoring how Jem swore at him. A graze. Nothing bad. Tean’s eyes stung, and he had to fight hard to keep from dissolving into tears. Just a graze. Jem could have done worse to himself falling off his motorcycle. Tean’s hands shook as he gathered a handful of Jem’s tee and used his teeth to start a small tear.

  “Who’s Kristine?” Tanner said. He took a nervous step toward the cabin’s front door and then retreated again. “Who the fuck is out there, and what the fuck is going on?”

  Once Tean had the tear started, it was easy to rip the shirt into two pieces. He helped Jem sit up, aware of how hard Jem was shaking, and peeled them off. He left bloody handprints across the soft blond hairs of Jem’s chest, along his shoulder, his belly. He used the pieces of the shirt to improvise a bandage, and he yanked hard as he tied the knot.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Tean,” Jem shouted. He hammered on the floor with his free hand. “What in the seven fucking hells?”

  “Don’t be a baby.”

  “All right, he’s going to live. Good job, Dr. Quinn.” Tanner took another of those prancing steps forward and then back again. “Now who the fuck is Kristine? You’d better start talking before I blow your head off.”

  “He doesn’t remember,” Jem said, closing his eyes. His head fell back against the bunk. “He doesn’t even remember.”

  Tean didn’t know if Jem meant Kristine or himself. Part of him didn’t want to know. He caught Tanner’s eye and said, “Kristine Colin-Bowman.”

  Tanner had the look of a kid lost in algebra class.

  “What about Nathaniel Dayton?”

  Rolling a shoulder, Tanner shook his head.

  “You tried to cut his ear off,” Jem said, eyes still closed. “In case that jogs your memory.”

  Tanner’s thumbs played nervously on the grips of the guns. “You’re kidding. The faggot?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jem muttered.

  “And who’s the cunt?”

  “It must be hard,” Jem said, eyes opening. He turned to look at Tanner. “Keeping a list of all the people you’ve fucked up, all the lives you’ve ruined. That must get time consuming after a while for a guy like you.”

  Tanner’s smile was vividly white in the darkness, almost luminescent. “Holy shit. Am I supposed to know you too?”

  “It must be hard, keeping track. No reason you ought to remember a girl you tried to rape when you were a kid, just getting started.”

  “Every bitch wants it right up until she doesn’t,” Tanner said. “It’s the same song and dance once it’s over.”

  Jem was taking uncontrolled gulps of air. He shifted his weight as though he meant to stand.

  “Not right now,” Tean said. “Jem, this isn’t the time.”

  “But she was smarter than you,” Jem said. “They were both smarter than you. And now they’ve got you where they want you. And you’re going to get what you deserve. I’m going to stand here and watch as they cut your balls off and feed them to you. I’m going to give them a few ideas myself. I’m going to start by sticking a knife up your asshole and letting you sit on it while they work on you. Then I’m going to get really creative.”

  If anything, Tanner’s smile got bigger. “Fuck me, I am supposed to know you. Who are you? You’ve got to at least give me a clue.”

  “They don’t lock the laundry doors at night,” Jem said, and the words had the sound of a quote, although Tean didn’t understand the reference. “You can walk right out.”

  The transformation in Tanner’s face was instantaneous: shock, then laughter. “No fucking way. Jeremy?”

  “It’s Jeremiah, shit-for-brains.”

  “God damn. No fucking way.” Tanner glanced at Haggerty, then out into the emptiness of sage and night. “What is this, some kind of reunion party? You all had sore titties, so you decided it was time for payback?”

  “I’m here, you sperm-sample reject, because of Andi. Because you killed Andi. I’m here to make sure you pay for that.”

  With another laugh, Tanner shook his head. “Jesus. The party cunt? There’s millions of dollars on the line—”

  “There are no drugs,” Tean shouted over him. “None. How do you not understand that? If you want to make it out of here alive, you’re going to need help. Kristine is up there, and she’s apparently a really good shot. Judging by how easily she got Haggerty, I think it’s safe to say she’s got the right gear to keep us here all night. We’re miles from anyone who might stumble onto us, and nobody’s going to hear the gunshots because of the fireworks. So shut up, stop pointing those guns at us, and let’s find a way out of here.”

  The guns dipped an inch. To Jem, Tanner said, “Who’s he? Your pussyboy?”

  “I’m his boyfriend,” Tean snapped, catching the glasses as they threatened to slide free. “Now tell us how you got down here, and maybe we can figure out a way to leave.”

  Tanner shrugged. “I was camping up the Dolores. I stole a truck from this old guy, right out of his barn; I bet he doesn’t even know it’s missing. After everything with Antonio’s party cunt and Blake getting . . . talkative, I decided I better lie low for a while. Besides, it’s not like I needed Kristine and her fag anymore. They’d left the phone out on the table, right where I could see it. I picked it up. I knew climbers liked to use those codes. Why the fuck should I split that money with those two when I was doing all the work? I figured I could float down here the day of the pickup, take the cargo, and float everything a couple miles farther downriver before that bitch showed up. Then I could take my time unloading it. I’ve got a guy in West Valley who could move this shit for me. Once I had the money, I could go wherever I wanted.” A little furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “Why didn’t the bitch just shoot me?”

  “What?”

  “You’re talking about Kalista, right?”

  “Her name is Kristine,” Jem said.

  “Why didn’t she just pop me one?”

  “Because she wants to take her time with you. She and Nathaniel want to make you pay. Can’t say I blame them.” Jem’s face had whitened, waxy in the weak illumination from Haggerty’s penlight. “They had a pr
etty sweet setup at the villa you rented for them. Cuffs and chains. I bet they would have spent a long time taking you apart.”

  “No wonder that bitch was always ordering me drinks and trying to get me alone. Rule fucking number one: if you didn’t mix it yourself, don’t drink it.” Tanner smiled, and for a moment, in the shadows, Tean could see the superficial charm, the guile that had carried him this far. “Too bad for the bitch that this was business. If there hadn’t been money on the table, I would have had a lot of fun with her. She’s my type.”

  “Jesus,” Jem said. “He really does not understand.”

  “I know there aren’t any drugs,” Tanner barked. “I’m talking, you know, how I was thinking at the time.”

  “And you didn’t find it strange at all that this girl wanted to bring you in on a multi-million-dollar drug heist? For fuck’s sake. You’re honestly beyond helping.”

  “I forgot little Jeremy always had a mouth on him.” The guns dipped again. “I forgot we had to find other ways to keep Jeremy’s mouth busy.”

  Red blotched Jem’s face, making the waxiness even worse.

  “Does he still moan when you bottom out in him?” Tanner asked Tean. “He likes it rough. You got to give it to him rough or he won’t get off on it.”

  “I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch,” Jem whispered. He tried to stand, but Tean caught his uninjured arm and held him down. “I’m going to kill you.” This time, it was a scream, and Jem thrashed, trying to get free of Tean’s grip.

  Grinning, Tanner gestured at Tean with Ammon’s gun. “Back up, pussyboy. Put on those cuffs. Christ, I wish we had time for a round right now. You know what the best part was? The best part was when he’d be sobbing, face covered in snot, and he’d start making these little noises. Uh. Uh. Uh. He just couldn’t help himself; he liked having his hole tapped, no matter how much he pretended he didn’t. I said back up.”

  But Jem was still trying to get up, making a wild, uncontrollable growling noise. His eyes were huge and empty, and Tean realized that, bullet wound or not, Jem was going to get free.