“I got it. I followed Rich back last night and made sure he had my numbers and yours, and vice versa.” He hadn’t wanted to admit doing so. It might give Laine the wrong idea, like that Matt and Rich would ever get along. They wouldn’t. Matt had only followed Rich back because it occurred to him, belatedly, that they should have one another’s cell numbers in case of an emergency. That was all there had been to it.
“Good, that’s good. Wait for me there—and don’t go near his room.”
Matt grunted and hung up, one hand raised to bang on Rich’s door. Well, he was already here before he was told any different, so…what the heck. Maybe he’d wake Rich up, and they’d laugh about it later.
The door whipped open and Matt was jerked inside. The door was kicked closed and his arm wrenched around his back. He was spun and his face slammed into the door with enough force that he saw a brilliant explosion of stars. His gun was been stripped away from him, then his face met the door again, knocking the stars away and filling his vision with a dimming gray. Before he could even hope to orient himself, Matt was turned around again to face his attacker. A sharp pain ripped through his stomach, up toward his chest, and he tried to scream through the hand clamped over his mouth.
“Shut up, you God damned pussy, you won’t die from that…yet.”
Matt blinked, trying to clear his vision, then wished he hadn’t. McAlister. Oh God, Rich! The face peering at him was devoid of emotion, and the eyes… Matt wanted to look away, look anywhere but at this man, but the hand clamped over his mouth kept him from turning away.
“Now, I know that Sheriff Stenley is on his way, you were loud enough to wake the dead.” McAlister laughed and brought a hand covered in Matt’s blood to Matt’s cheek. “You’re going to give him a message for me.” Those dead eyes drilled into Matt’s. “You tell him I’ve had hours to play with his former partner.”
Matt started to gag, feeling the bile rise up. He’d seen the pictures of Conner. If McAlister really did have Rich, the man would surely be dead—or wishing he were.
“You tell him he’s got fifteen minutes to get to where he needs to be, and if he doesn’t make it… Well, Rich is still alive. He’s got more fight in him than I would have thought. But if Laine is one second late, or brings anyone else, I will put Rich out of his misery. Who knows…” McAlister hunched forward, his hand slipping from Matt’s face to cup his chin in a bruising hold. “I might just kill the fucker anyway.” He bit Matt’s bottom lip, tugging until the skin gave and blood gushed down Matt’s chin.
“Good boy.” McAlister tossed Matt to the floor, smiling as he threw a hard kick into the knife wound he’d given Matt. Matt curled up into himself as much as he could, fighting the agonizing pain that ripped through him as he moved. He heard the door open and close and tried to focus, his thoughts a swarming mass of fear for Rich and himself. Laine’s anger would be justified. Matt knew he’d been stupid, had walked right into McAlister’s hands. He fumbled for his phone, one hand clutched to his stomach, trying not to panic over the blood he could feel seeping out steadily.
If he died, it would be his own fault for being such a cocky son of a bitch, but he couldn’t let that sick fucker kill Laine, and maybe, if he hurried, Rich might make it. Matt got the menu open and hit Laine’s number, grimacing at the busy signal. Laine must have been dialing out at the same time. Matt disconnected and tried again, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to warn him.
* * * *
Laine hit the end button on his cell phone and nearly dropped it when it rang immediately. He saw Matt’s number and felt a moment’s hope that Rich had shown up at the hotel.
“Is Rich there?”
A pain-filled moan had Laine’s hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Matt? What’s wrong?”
The answer turned Laine’s blood to ice. “He has Rich, said he’s had hours to play with him—”
“God damn it!” Laine’s stomach clenched and he laid the gas petal to the floorboard. “Matt! Matt!”
“Said you have fifteen minutes to…” Matt grunted, then groaned. A bolt of panic shot through Laine, followed by an eerie sense of calm as the star popped off of his shirt. “Get to where you need to be, alone. Or Rich dies. You gotta…”
Laine didn’t have a doubt where McAlister meant, and knowing the sick bastard had been going at Rich for hours, in Laine’s house… “Matt. What did he do to you? What happened?”
Harsh breathing was the only answer he received for several seconds before he heard the faint reply. Knowing his deputy was lying in an empty hotel room, bleeding out from a stab wound chased the ice out of Laine’s blood and replaced it with a burning anger. He would kill McAlister—fuck the man ever going to trial.
“Matt, I’m going to hang up and call nine-one-one. You just stay calm. I’ll get Rich out alive, I promise.” Or die trying. And if I go, I’m taking that fucker with me straight to Hell. Laine didn’t wait for Matt’s agreement, hanging up and placing the emergency call immediately instead. He finished that call and tossed his phone down on the seat, watching from his peripheral vision as the tin star continued to spin.
“What good is that doing, Conner?” Laine snapped, tired of the senseless game, and feeling strangely bereft when the star stilled, then slid to the floorboard. “He has Rich, Conner, and Matt is… God, Matt may die, and you’re spinning that damn star! I know who it is now!”
Laine took the turn to his house so fast that his truck nearly flipped. If McAlister had left the hotel right before Matt called, then Laine couldn’t be too far behind him. Sure enough, once the dust cleared, Laine saw a man getting out of an SUV in his drive. Rich’s little car was pulled off to the side, the tires flat.
McAlister ran up the steps into the house. Laine had a fleeting thought of plowing his truck into the house and running McAlister down but put it aside to the foolish notion that it was. He roared down the drive, braking hard and sideswiping McAlister’s SUV in the process. Then Laine threw the gear in park, shut the engine off, got out and tossed his keys into the scrub. If he didn’t make it out, he’d be damned if McAlister would have an easy escape. Laine’s truck had the SUV pinned in neatly, and his keys wouldn’t be easy for anyone else to find.
The kitchen door swung open before Laine had even stepped away from his truck. McAlister stood in the doorway, gun trained on Laine’s chest as he tipped his head in the direction of the vehicles.
“Well, aren’t you smart? Toss your gun.”
Laine did, seeing no alternative, then McAlister fired and pain ripped through Laine’s shoulder, and he wondered if he should have pinned that damned star back on as he stumbled and his knees hit the ground. Shit! I didn’t see that coming!
“I figured you had all that righteous indignation behind you, you know.” McAlister shrugged one shoulder. “Since I killed Conner and gutted him like a hog. And Rich, well, that boy’s a mess, let me tell you. Your deputy, though, he might make it, if he gets help fast enough.” He aimed the gun at Laine’s head and nodded. “Now, get the fuck up. That didn’t do anything other than hurt you. If you don’t get your ass in this house in the next minute, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes, then make sure Rich dies as painfully as possible.”
* * * *
Sev heard the phone ring and the low rumble of Brendon’s voice as he answered, then he was yelling for Zeke and Sev. Sev ran from the kitchen, Zeke hard on his heels, nearly toppling them both when Sev skidded to a halt in front of Brendon. The man’s brown eyes looked haunted, his skin pale and worry etched into his handsome features.
“That was Matt,” Brendon began before Sev or Zeke could ask. “McAlister has Rich, has had him for hours, if I heard right.”
“What do you mean, if you heard right?”
Brendon darted a glance at Sev before answering his partner. “Matt was…in and out of consciousness. He said McAlister had stabbed him, and told him to tell Laine to meet him, but Matt didn’t know where.” Brendon and Zeke both turned to S
ev as a sweet scent filled the air.
Sev ignored the presence, racking his brain, trying to figure out where McAlister would want Laine to meet him. He could only think of one place.
“His house, has to be. How long ago was that?” Sev was already heading for the door, only to find himself jerked back when Zeke grabbed his arm. “What the fuck? Let’s go!”
“You need to stay here with Brendon while—”
Brendon slapped a hand to Zeke’s chest and shoved. “I don’t think so! This lunatic has taken out a detective and a deputy, and now he may very well have Laine! There’s no way you’re going alone, so forget that!”
“But—” Zeke sighed and pointed to the gun cabinet. “Grab a weapon and let’s go. Sev, you know how to shoot?”
Sev nearly rolled his eyes as he followed Brendon to grab a gun. “I’m a native Texan, don’t we all?” Hopefully, he still remembered how. It had been years, but if Laine’s life depended on it—or any of their friends’ lives depended on it—Sev knew he’d do whatever was necessary. He chose his rifle, taking the box of shells Brendon handed him. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
Laine pushed up from the ground and stumbled through the door, one hand pressed to the wound on his shoulder, the other clenched into a tight fist. He wondered how he’d worked around McAlister and never noticed the blank look in the man’s eyes.
“Where’s Rich?”
McAlister shook his head and waved the gun toward the bedroom. “Keep moving, Laine. I’ve waited for you for years.”
“Why me, McAlister? What the—” The gun stilled in McAlister’s hand, aimed at Laine’s heart and making him reconsider his words. He couldn’t let McAlister kill him, not before he got Rich out of here, but he was beginning to lose hope of either of them surviving this.
“Who knows, why you, Laine. Not me. It just was—is.” McAlister surprised him by answering. “At least, this time, I left your lover alone. Why you’d go from a big, attractive man like Conner to a little pretty boy like that is beyond me. Maybe that’s all you could get out here in bumfuck, Texas, huh?”
Laine refused to rise to the bait, seething at being so close to Conner’s killer and unable to do anything. As he passed the spare bedroom, McAlister pointed inside the room.
“There’s Detective Montoya, alive and… I wouldn’t say well, but he is alive, for a little while longer. Probably wishes he were dead, though.”
He saw Rich tied to the bed, naked but covered in so much blood that very little skin showed. Laine stumbled, turning for the door. McAlister waved the gun.
“I don’t think so, Laine. You’ll just have to take my word for it.” He laughed, the sound high pitched and psychotic. Laine grabbed the doorframe and met McAlister’s gaze.
“If he’s dead, I will kill you, no matter how many bullets you put into me.” He saw something shift in McAlister’s gaze, a nervous flicker that belied the man’s calm appearance.
“Brave talk, Laine. I doubt you’d recover from having your brains splattered all over the hallway. Somehow, I’m not worried.”
Laine turned to watch Rich. He saw the man’s chest rise, a slight movement that gave Laine back the hope that had started to slip away. A sudden insight flared in Laine’s mind—McAlister had done this, hurt so many people, killed people, just to have him. He wouldn’t be satisfied with a simple bullet. His smile when he faced McAlister again was tight, a bare thinning of lips.
“That would ruin all your fun, now, wouldn’t it? To hunt me for all these years, then end it in a split second. I don’t think you’d do that.” Laine pushed away from the doorframe, knowing he was right, seeing it in the surprise on McAlister’s face. He lunged for the gun, gripping McAlister’s wrist and smashing it into the wooden trim. The gun went off, a bullet ripping into the wall as they struggled. Laine dug his fingers in deep, twisting and slamming McAlister’s arm against the hard wood again.
The gun fell to the floor, but before Laine could reach for it, McAlister looped an arm around Laine’s neck and began choking him, dragging Laine down the hallway as Laine tried to free himself. Desperation speared through Laine as his vision dimmed, and he bit, tearing at the flesh as he brought a hand up and squeezed McAlister’s balls. An agonized scream pierced the air and Laine was shoved down to the floor, a sharp kick catching him in the ribs, then another landed to his kidneys. Laine tried to work through the pain, dodging another kick as he scrambled across the hall, trying to grab onto the wall, anything to pull himself up.
McAlister delivered another kick, this one under Laine’s arm, right to the armpit, and Laine went down hard. An explosion of sound ricocheted in the house, quickly followed by another, then a third, and McAlister was falling, blood spraying in an arc, turning the hall into a crimson-colored hell.
Laine tried to roll over, his hand slipping in blood, then Sev was there, his face wet with tears, kneeling beside him. Sev’s hands raced over him, and Laine tried to hear the words his lover was speaking, but nothing made sense. His head was spinning, other hands were grabbing at him, pulling him up. He was able to discern that it was Brendon and Zeke helping him before they saw Rich. Then there was a blur of movement and raised voices. Sev’s arms tightened around Laine, holding him up as his knees gave out, the smaller man taking his weight.
“Come on, baby, you’re going to be fine.”
Laine’s ears stopped ringing and Sev’s words finally penetrated the gray wall of unconsciousness that was threatening.
“Sev…” Laine tried to grab Sev’s arm as Sev laid him on the couch, kneeling beside Laine so he could apply pressure to the shoulder wound. Fiery fingers of pain speared out from Laine’s shoulder as Sev pressed harder, and Laine gasped, trying to buck Sev off even though he knew better. Sev brushed a kiss across Laine’s lips, the salty flavor of his tears finding Laine’s tongue. Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound rapidly growing closer.
“Sev, need to tell you…” Laine fumbled for the words, his world tilting and rapidly growing dark.
Sev smiled tremulously, his eyes shining. “I know, Laine, I know. Me too.”
Those words eased the pain and followed Laine into the dark well that swept over him, freeing him from everything but the love of, and for, this one man.
Epilogue
Laine stood beside Rich’s hospital bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his friend’s chest. Machines beeped and whirred, pumping oxygen and fluids into Rich’s body. Sev stood beside Laine, an arm wound around Laine’s waist. Laine’s arm rested on Sev’s shoulders, snugging the man tight to his side. He could feel the strain in Sev’s body, the man almost vibrating as he worked to fend off voices he didn’t want to hear. It would have been easier on him, and Laine would have understood, if Sev had stayed at Brendon and Zeke’s while Laine visited Rich. As it was, Laine had left the hospital well before Doctor Hunter had wanted him to. He couldn’t bear to see Sev struggling to maintain the walls he’d erected in his mind to keep out the ghosts.
And he’d rather have Sev playing nurse for him any day than the sour-faced guy who’d been prodding at Laine here in the hospital. Matt tapped on the door then made his way over to the bed. He’d been released three days earlier, but as far as Laine could tell, he hadn’t left the hospital much at all. He seemed to feel personally responsible for Rich’s survival.
“Any changes?”
Laine shook his head. “No, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’s not getting any worse. Dr. Hunter says it could take a few more days, and considering…”
Matt nodded in agreement. Considering all the blood Rich had lost, the multiple stab wounds that had taken hours in surgery to repair, and the near miss to Rich’s jugular from the gaping gash to his neck, the man was lucky to be alive.
“But he will wake up. He’ll be okay.” Matt’s voice rang with a surety that Laine wished he felt. Rich was so still, except for the steady breaths. He hadn’t flicked so much as a finger since he’d been laid on a gurney and whe
eled from Laine’s house.
“He will be.” Sev squeezed Laine’s waist before stroking his hand over Laine’s hip. “Rich will wake up soon.”
There was that surety that, once again, Laine wished he could feel. “Matt, call me if—the second he wakes, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. You get everything straightened out at work?”
Laine shrugged and grimaced, the move pulling at his wound. “Wasn’t as many people screaming for a recall vote as I, or the mayor, thought there’d be. Irma was the loudest, and I think she scared off most the other people who weren’t happy with me being gay. Or maybe the people of McKinton are tired of violence and hatred. Everything’s okay for now.”
“Laine,” Sev’s voice carried a hint of reproach, “I think you misjudged the people of McKinton. There are a few narrow-minded bigots, sure, but you’ll find those people anywhere. Think about all the flowers and cards and visitors you’ve had, and Doreen tearing into anyone who dares to speak ill of you. The support has really been overwhelmingly in your favor.”
Thinking about it made Laine’s cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I guess so, though Deputy Sparks doesn’t seem to be able to even look me in the eye. I keep hoping he’ll come around, but…” Laine didn’t think it would happen. It had hurt, having a man he’d worked with and known for years look at him like that, disapproval clear in his eyes.
“Sparks is an asshole, Laine, seriously. If he is gonna be a dumbshit, then I hope he does quit. I personally can’t stand the guy, anyway.” Matt’s gaze darted away, and Laine wondered what had happened between the two men to make Matt feel that way.
“You never said anything before.”
This time it was Matt who shrugged, blowing off the unasked question.
“Well, guess he’ll do whatever he’ll do. Worrying isn’t gonna make a difference.” Laine looked at Rich, willing the man to wake, to smile and make a snarky comment to Matt, or bitch at Laine for not staying in touch. Anything. He’d settle for a nervous tic, but Rich remained as he’d been for days, silent and unmoving.
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