Lesson in Betrayal

by Katsura

  The white boots. The gold buckles glinting in the light.

  Mikhail.

  “MacGregor…you bastard…”

  Mikhail was the “little surprise” that Judas said he was going to take away from Fergus.

  You take from me, so I will take from you.

  Fergus reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun. The gun that he had brought to shoot Vinny with. MacGregor’s gang amounted to three people. MacGregor himself, Vinny and Ewan.

  Well the three fuck-sketeers would be reduced to one after tonight.

  He pushed the door open, got out of the car and strode toward Judas with the weapon held steadily in his outstretched hand.

  “You fucking bastard!” Fergus yelled. “You fucking low life scum bastard. You would kill a man who tried to save your life once? You never heard of a little thing called loyalty?”

  “What the fuck?” Judas began to slip his hand into his pocket, to no doubt bring out a gun of his own but before Fergus could shoot him and prevent this, Mikhail got shakily to his feet and he stood in front of Judas.

  “Don’t, Judas. Don’t make this worse.” Mikhail’s lips trembled as he spoke.

  “Mikhail.” Fergus stared into that beautiful tear soaked face. A face that he had missed beyond words. Those stunning eyes stared back at him, the normally coiffed curls hanging limply over one of them. Beautiful Mikhail. Bruised and beaten but still in Fergus’s mind, the most wonderful creature that he had ever set eyes on. “Please. Get out of the way. You don’t have to watch. Just get into my car, cover your face and wait for me.”

  “So you are gonna kill me now?” Judas scoffed in apparent disbelief. “Oh for fuck sake. Tell him, Mikhail. Just tell him before I have to blow his useless fucking head off!”

  Mikhail looked weak and his whole body seemed to shiver as he turned a fraction and stepped closer in front of Judas. He spread out his arms.

  “What are you doing, Mikhail?" Fergus suddenly raised his voice to a yell again.

  “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?”

  He kept his aim steady on Judas but there was no way that he could shoot him without the risk that he would accidentally hit Mikhail.

  Fergus gasped.

  Mikhail was protecting Judas.

  When Judas said that he would take something from Fergus, had he already done that?

  Judas wasn’t about to kill Mikhail when Fergus had stumbled upon them. God knows why they were here and why they were so fucking filthy, but had he got it totally wrong?

  “Fuck.” He stared at Mikhail. “No. You left me…for him? You turned your back on me…ignored me…and took up with that piece of low life—”

  Judas laughed. “Oh, for crying out loud.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Just tell him, Mikhail?”

  “Don’t say his name!” Fergus growled. He was overwhelmed with the urge to blow MacGregor’s head off but Mikhail was still in the way. “I don’t want to hear your mouth say his name. I don’t want to think of your mouth and anything to do with him!”

  Mikhail looked about to pass out and his eyes flitted from Fergus to Judas. “You think…” His voice was weak and Fergus wanted to rush to embrace him. But he had lost him, so what was the point? “You think I am with Judas? That Judas and I are lovers? You can’t possibly believe this! That I would leave you…?”

  “Yeah. And he tells me I don’t know anything about loyalty.” Judas gave a derisive snort.

  Inside Fergus seethed with anger and his fingers tightened around the gun. Then he stepped slowly towards them, the gun still aimed on Judas until he slipped it into Mikhail's hand. "Then prove your loyalty to me. Shoot him."

  Mikhail gasped and his slim fingers shook as he snaked them around the cold metal of the gun.

  He could never shoot anyone, even if Judas was guilty of something, no-one should ever be the judge if another person should live or die. "Maybe it is normal for you. .to take another person‘s life,” Mikhail spoke slowly, his voice shaken by the emotions that ran through him. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself as he looked into Fergus's eyes, “but I couldn't live with the guilt.”

  Mikhail waited for some sort of reaction. None was immediately forthcoming so he slowly shook his head. "But if it is the only way to prove my loyalty to you...”

  He firmed his grip around the gun and lifted it to his own head. “I’d rather shed my own blood than that of an innocent man.”

  Fergus widened his eyes and a gasp escaped his lips as he stared at Mikhail. He tried to reach for Mikhail‘s wrist, but Mikhail stumbled backwards, the gun now pressed firmly against his temple.

  “All that you think about is your dreadful revenge. All of you! You fight and try to kill each other, what does this prove about your loyalty? You are only loyal to your own pride. To your success and money. But what is all this worth if there will be no-one left to share it with? When all of your loved ones get torn down as you battle your way to the top?” Mikhail's grip tightened more around the weapon. “But what do I know? This is your life, your rules. And if that is the only way to prove my loyalty to you, ask me to pull the trigger. I promise you. I will.”

  Fergus stared ahead blankly.

  “Don’t be a prick, Fergie.” Judas’s voice held no spite or sarcasm, just perhaps a touch of weariness. “The guy has been through an ordeal and he is telling you he would kill himself for you. Mikhail,” Judas looked indulgent, “no offence, but you are being a bit of a drama queen. Watched Gone with the Wind one time too many, baby. Fergie,”

  He raised his eyebrows, his eyes looking directly into Fergus’s eyes, “give him a fucking hug, for Christ’s sake. Make him sit down before he falls down.”

  “Mikhail?” Fergus screwed his face up in obvious confusion. Suddenly, he rushed forward and embraced Mikhail tightly. The gun slipped from Mikhail’s grasp and fell to the ground as he returned the embrace with absolutely no strength left in him at all.

  “If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” Judas walked towards his car with a slight limp. “I’ll leave you both to it. I’ve had enough excitement for one night. Or maybe not enough. I haven’t quite decided.”

  Fergus gently released Mikhail and looked into his eyes. Mikhail looked back at him and he appeared to say something but the noise was drowned out by Judas’s car as it drove away.

  Fergus smiled. He kissed him softly on the lips. “Mika, you have some explaining to do.”

  “No.” Mikhail shook his head. “Can you please just take me home?”

  Again, his voice was small. Fergus could see that he was in pain so he resolved to just comply with the man’s wishes. He retrieved the gun from the dirt and together they walked slowly to Hugo’s car. Fergus helped Mikhail inside and put his seatbelt on for him. A noticeable look of fear slip over Mikhail’s face and Fergus may have been wrong, but it seemed to have something to do with the car. Fergus decided not to mention it. For the moment at least.

  They drove in silence for a while before Fergus, unable to simply let the matter drop, spoke softly.

  “At some point, you’ll have to tell me who did this to you.” He didn’t want to press the point but he obviously had no intention of ignoring what had just happened.

  Mikhail, who now had Fergus’s jacket around his shoulders, turned his face towards him. He looked so much younger without make up. Young and still incredibly beautiful. Perhaps even more so. It occurred to Fergus that he liked Mikhail to wear make-up as it perhaps made Fergus appear more of a man. His male partners, both Hugo and Mikhail, were very feminine when compared with him. Mikhail didn’t need all the powder and rouge to be attractive. He was simply stunning the way nature had intended him to be. Fergus’s mask, as it were, was the bravado of the criminal.

  Mikhail’s was a powder compact. Neither of them required these things. Strange how the situation had made Fergus think along those lines.

  It was now so obvious to him. His own mask was for a very real purpose. Fer
gus was now, and always had been, hiding from his father. That man, who went to prison and waved a gun about like a thug? That was not the real Fergus. He had created a persona to please a man who could never likely be pleased. Successful crimes had not impressed him. Serving a prison sentence had not engendered any praise. There had been no big coming out party for Fergus on his release from HMP Barlinnie. His stint inside was barely acknowledged. Of course he was looked after when incarcerated, and without a doubt on the instruction of his father, but serving his time like a man had not been rewarded in any way, as it had been with others in the gang. With Fergus, it seemed, Callum only ever wanted more. He was never satisfied with what his son had done already. The protection he was afforded in prison was doubtlessly to save Callum from any dishonour it would have to brought to his name, if his son had been beaten up or raped as had happened to others such as Judas MacGregor.

  Fergus felt startled at this revelation. Did Mikhail have someone he felt he needed to put a face on for? It suddenly struck him, just how selfish he had been. He realised that he had never really bothered to find that out about him.

  Mikhail had seemed to consider his reply for an unreasonably long time. Finally, he spoke up in a small voice. “Where I am from,” he said quietly, “we have…criminals too.

  We have people who would take what you have. Do you understand?”

  “The brothel?” Fergus looked at him and then back at the road. “People want a cut of what you make?”

  “Yes.” Mikhail nodded. “And they follow me here. So this is no concern of yours. I will deal with this. Cain will fix this for me and I would not involve you. This is how I want it done.”

  “I see.” Fergus forced a little smile on his lips. “Then I’ll let Cain sort this for you.”

  “Thank you.” Mikhail leaned against his shoulder. “Then no-one gets hurt that shouldn’t.”

  Fergus’s eyes suddenly became rather saucer like.

  Vinny.

  With everything that had happened, Fergus had totally forgotten that Vinny was still in the boot of his car.

  They were in some wooded area just outside of the town and Fergus looked about for a layby and parked the car at the darkest spot that he could find.

  “Mikhail.” He kissed his cheek softly. “On my way to the lock-up I hit a deer. You know how it is, these country roads. I was on the bridge so there was nowhere to move it so no-one else would hit it. I put it in the boot. If you don’t mind, I don’t really want to bring it home with me.”

  Mikhail looked at him sleepily. “Of course.” He nodded. “Just be quick. I am so thirsty.”

  “God,” Fergus nodded with concern, “of course. Now don’t be looking out, okay? I hit it hard. It’s a bit…mangled.”

  His voice trailed off as he got out of the car and then as an after-thought, he leaned back in again. “I…may need to finish it off, you understand?” he sighed.

  “Oh yes.” Mikhail nodded and closed his eyes. “It would be a kindness.”

  Again Fergus nodded, then after closing the car door, he hurried to the back and opened the boot cautiously. He couldn’t be sure that Vinny wouldn’t leap out at him so his gun was already firmly back in his hand. Vinny didn’t move, however. He just lay there exactly the same way as Fergus had left him.

  It wasn’t easy to get him out of the boot. Even the slightest of people can feel like a dead weight when they are unconscious and Vinny was in no way slight. Fergus was a strong man but still, he knew that he risked a hernia as he heaved the immobile ex-junkie out on to the leaf strewn ground. He had to practically drag Vinny through the woods, raking up all sorts of debris in has path, until he found a little clearing that was as far off the road as Fergus could manage.

  Vinny lay on his back amongst the fallen foliage, the wine braids of his hair spread around him like a twig halo.

  Fergus clicked the safety off his gun and stared down and the young man sorrowfully.

  “Why’d it have to be you, Vinny?” He shook his head. “Why’d you have to be so fucking nice? So fucking…decent!”

  Vinny lay still and Fergus crouched and felt for a pulse on his limp wrist. It would have been too convenient if he was dead already but he wasn’t and Fergus groaned. He pointed the gun at Vinny’s head, unable to stop himself from noticing how beautiful the guy was. What he was about to do was wrong on so many levels, but the thought that he would destroy Vinny’s attractive features with the bullet he was about to fire into them, gnawed at his conscience. Vinny’s lips pouted in the way that peoples often do when they are asleep. Fergus stared at them.

  “If I’d been MacGregor, I’d have given you a better chance in life. What did he do for you? Fuck all, Vinny. You idolise him for nothing. He’s a jerk. A nobody. The guy who everything he touches turns to crap. He got you off the shit…by putting you in the shit. He made you like us. Fucking doomed. Hopeless.”

  Of course Vinny couldn’t hear what he had just said. It had been pointless to say it to what was essentially a good looking corpse lying there.

  “Fuck!” Fergus said in an exasperated whisper as he lowered his weapon. “You don’t deserve this. You’re a good guy. A bit…fucking gullible but good. There are too few people like you.”

  Again he pointed the gun at Vinny, before he growled in frustration at his inability to pull the trigger. “God, I have to do this!”

  He shook his arms and head and appeared like someone who was preparing for the long jump. Fergus then took a deep breath and aimed again.

  His lips pursed as he let out a cloud of frozen breath. He turned away and crouched a fraction as he stamped his feet a few times against the uneven ground.

  “Fuck, fuck, fucking cunt bollocks!” He again shook his head with fury then suddenly pointed the gun behind him. “Do it…do it, damn you!”

  He hissed in anger as he looked back at the prone figure again.

  Another long sigh escaped him. He closed his eyes briefly before he stared up at the part of sky that could be seen through the tree branches above him.

  He couldn’t do it.

  There was no way he could bring himself to kill Vinny.

  “But it’s Vinny or Hugo,” he whispered to himself. Fergus glanced back in the direction of the road, to the spot where the car sat. Mikhail was no doubt asleep on the front seat and Fergus turned to look down at Vinny for one last time.

  Vinny or Hugo?

  He sighed heavily. With nothing but the sound of his boots on the leaves to distract him from his miserable turmoil, Fergus began to trudge his way back up towards the car, and the man he loved.

  Chapter Eight

  “Finally!” Hugo growled as he heard a car drive over the gravel of the driveway and he quickly checked his reflection in the mirror. Judas didn’t deserve the beautiful creature that had been forced to wait so long for him but he would get what was promised to him anyway. When they got to the lock-up, Hugo would make some pretence of going to fetch something from the basement, then spread some petrol about the place and set it alight. How could he stop Judas from following him, though?

  Maybe if he had Judas remove his trousers? Now that wouldn’t be too difficult. Judas was always looking for an excuse to get his pants off.

  This would be quite fun.

  Give Judas a nice blowjob in the car. Leave him to recover, while Hugo torched the lock-up and the slut inside it, then they could drive off, find a secluded spot somewhere and have a celebratory fuck. After all, it would be the last time Hugo would fuck anyone other than his wonderful husband. Nice that Judas would have that honour.

  Maybe he did deserve something. A reward for being so accommodating.

  Hugo giggled gleefully as he rushed to the hall. “Now don’t look too eager!” He admonished himself and opened the front door with a little more sobriety.

  His jaw almost hit the ground.

  It wasn’t Judas at all.

  It was Fergus, and in his arms, carried as though he was a child, was the still figu
re of Mikhail Majewski.

  “Out of my way, Hugo,” Fergus said firmly.

  Hugo complied in a state of utter shock. He stood motionless for a moment, then quickly followed Fergus up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

  “What…what on earth happened to him?” Hugo sounded rather panicky but that was okay. Anyone would be so this would not arouse any suspicion. “Is he dead?”

  Hope would have been cause for finger pointing however so he carefully eradicated that tone.

  “No, he’s not bloody dead.” Once Fergus had lain Mikhail on the covers of the bed, he walked into the en suite clearly to get some water as the taps came on noisily.

  Hugo stared at Mikhail’s face with complete revulsion. The whore was meant to die. Not end up in Fergus’s arms like a tragic rag doll.

  Fergus returned. Carefully he began to wipe Mikhail’s cheeks with a wet facecloth and the tender way in which he did this sent another wave of rage over Hugo.

  “Mikhail will be staying here with us until he is well.” This was in no way a question. It was obvious from his tone that Fergus was simply laying down a clear list of facts. “You’ll make him feel welcome and comfortable. He’ll have everything that he needs. If you so much as frown at him I’ll wring your neck.”

  Well it was a change from him threatening the little dog. Fergus didn’t look incensed however so it was obvious that whatever he thought had happened to Mikhail, he did not suspect that Hugo had any involvement.

  “Don’t worry.” Hugo smiled sweetly. “I will look after him. In fact…I will never leave his side. Not for a single moment.”

  Fergus was engrossed in the task of removing Mikhail’s filthy clothes and Hugo stared as the garments were dropped to the floor. He lifted them and tried not show the disgust he actually felt at having to touch them. “I will put his clothes in the wash. They are…soiled”

  Once in the kitchen, Hugo put the clothes into the washing machine, then paced around as he tried to form a plan of action. Mikhail was unconscious, but he wouldn’t always be. At some point he would wake up and possibly blab to Fergus about what had happened. Had he been foolish to assume that Mikhail wouldn’t tell on him, just to save Judas MacGregor’s neck?