Fight

by Sarah Masters

  He smiled, punched the air, and switched off the TV, elation surging through him that his love for Paul had been spelled out on screen for all to see. A man had been arrested, hopefully Paul.

  A wave of determination propelled him back to the front door, and he swung it wide, snatching his car keys from the side table next to it. Outside, he climbed into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, ready to eradicate one more motherfucker from their lives.

  The drive there proved pleasant, with little traffic, which gave him time to think over exactly what he was going to do. Yes, his actions would prove Paul wasn't the killer they were after, but when Paul got released, he'd run to Carl for comfort. Yes, Carl had it all worked out.

  He slowed to a stop at a set of lights and drummed the steering wheel with his fingertips while he waited for them to change.

  Man, you're gonna wish you'd never met me, and when you see my bad side, after I've explained why you're the next one on my list, you'll understand why I gotta do what I'm gonna.

  Maniacal laughter erupted from him at the realization he'd thought some of his father's words, and he threw his head back, setting the hilarity free. He composed himself quickly and glanced inside a car that pulled up beside his. The woman driver gave him a frightened stare, and Carl laughed again, power infusing his bones, his muscles, his whole goddamn body. He whipped his head around to face forward, saw the lights had switched, and sped off toward his destination.

  Outside the apartment block, he eyed the place and parked between two other cars hogging the roadside. Before getting out, he looked around, conscious that he played a dangerous game here. Too many people could see him if they stared out their windows, but he didn't have a choice. He had to do this. Had to see it through. Sighing, he got out of the car and locked it, keeping his head down as he made his way into the apartment block. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the door he needed and pressed an ear to it. The tinny sound of a TV at low volume filtered out, as well as the shuffle of feet belonging to a lethargic person.

  Yeah, he's lethargic all right. Big old bastard's tired from screwing that drip of a dick he calls his boyfriend.

  The man's height and size gave him reason to pause. Could he do what he had to do? Could he overpower the big guy quickly enough to slit his thick throat?

  Fuck yeah!

  Carl raised his fist and rapped on the door, the action paining his knuckles.

  The door opened, and Brian stood on the other side.

  “What do you want?” Brian said, his wide frame almost filling the space between each jamb. His scowl showed his displeasure at seeing Carl, and his mouth formed a thin, tight line.

  Carl held back laughter. “Mind if I come in?” He barged past Brian before he had a chance to protest and stalked into the living room. The door slamming irked him, and he spun to face the big man as he entered the room. The thrill of what he had planned sped through him, and he smirked at Brian's thunderous expression. Fucking jerk. “No girlfriend around?”

  Brian's eyes narrowed. “If you mean Lil, then no. He's at work. What the fuck do you want, Carl? Say what you have to say and get out.”

  “That's not very charitable behavior, now is it?” Carl shoved his hands in his pockets, the fingers of one curling around his flick knife.

  “You don't deserve charitable behavior. Not after what you did to Paul.” Brian crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet wide apart.

  Bully-boy pose. What a prick.

  “And what did I do to Paul, exactly?” The knife warmed from his skin's heat. He'd have to bring it out soon or risk losing his grip from the sweat forming on his palms.

  “Don't piss me about, Carl. You know what you did to him. I'll ask you once more: What do you want?”

  Carl smiled and strolled out of the living room and back into the hallway. He faced Brian, who turned and stepped forward, leaning on the doorjamb. Swiftly, Carl brought his hand out of his pocket and flicked the blade free, lunging toward Brian with such speed the blade pressed to the big guy's neck before he had a chance to react. The point jabbed into his skin, and Brian raised both hands, eyes wide and wary, cheeks flushing red.

  “Whoa! Calm it, will you?” Brian said, eyes darting left and right then focusing solely on Carl.

  Adrenaline whooshed through Carl, and he savored the light-headed sensation, the feeling almost like a drug. The sweat of power broke out over his back and forehead, and he pressed the blade harder, the point breaking the skin. Blood trickled, a meandering path that glossed over Brian's Adam's apple and into the hollow beneath.

  “Calm it? Calm it?” Carl hissed, itching to flick the knife to the right and watch the bastard drop to the floor. “You've been nothing but a fucking thorn in my side ever since I met Paul. Poking your damn nose in, giving unwanted advice. Do you want some advice?”

  Brian didn't answer. His eyes widened further as the blade dug deeper, and his hands shook.

  “Do you?” Carl shouted, pulse thudding in his ears.

  The big man nodded slightly, lower lip trembling, and his eyes watered.

  “Don't fuck with me and mine. I don't like it. Don't tolerate it. Won't put up with it.” Carl moved one step closer, blade hand steady, the other gripping the jamb to give him the brace needed when he drew the knife across.

  “It was you, wasn't it?” Brian asked, voice steady and low.

  “Me what?” Carl clenched his teeth, hatred for Brian snatching his breath and infusing him with strength.

  “You who...who killed those men.” Brian's eyes closed momentarily. He swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

  The knife jerked, and a fresh drizzle of blood seeped down his neck.

  “Damn fucking right it was me.” Carl glared at him, memories of every time the man had butted in leaching into his mind. Ire boiled, bubbled over, and he gripped the knife handle, ready to—

  The sound of a key sliding into the front door lock sounded, and Brian's eyes darted in that direction. Carl moved to slash, but Brian lowered his hands and brought one up beneath Carl's arm, jerking it upward and away. Brian jumped back and pushed Carl's chest. Incensed beyond measure, Carl sprawled backward, thumping against the hallway wall as the front door opened, shielding him from view.

  “Behind the door! Get the fuck in here!” Brian yelled.

  “What?” said Lil. “I come home early, and you—”

  “In here! Now!” Brian shouted.

  Lil strode into the living room, and Carl stepped out from behind the door, charging forward, knife raised, poised to plunge it into Lil's back.

  “Lil!” Brian leaped forward, shoving Lil out of the way, putting himself between Carl and Lil.

  Mistake.

  Carl grinned, lunged, and felt the satisfying sensation of steel sliding into flesh. He pulled back and plunged again, this time meeting resistance almost immediately.

  Brian lurched away with a howl.

  Landing on his side, head almost hitting the coffee table edge, Lil turned to face Carl, eyes wide and face blanched of all colour. “You fucking...” He scrambled up, reaching for the phone on the coffee table.

  Brian approached, and Carl reversed out the front doorway.

  He was supposed to stay down!

  The knife was slick with blood now, unstable, too hard to grip. “Fucker.” He snarled, turning quickly and running for the stairwell. Hard footsteps followed him, and he sped down the stairs, almost tripping, the squeak of his shoe soles loud in the confined space. At the bottom, he shoved the door open and burst outside, racing toward his car. Clicking his key fob to unlock the door, he yanked it open and dove inside, hands shaking as he inserted the key into the ignition. He slammed the door closed and revved the engine, glancing to the side to see Brian thundering toward him. He cursed parking in such a tight spot, and his foot slipped on the accelerator. The car shunted forward, smacking into the rear bumper of the car in front. He reversed, pranging the car behind, and stared at Brian, who slapped the
driver's-side window, his face red and eyes blazing, leaving behind a smeared, bloody handprint.

  Attention back on maneuvering his car out, Carl ignored his fast-thudding heart and pulled out, heedless of a car coming his way. He floored the gas pedal and slewed across the road, narrowly missing the other moving vehicle. Fear and excitement pumping through him, he swerved out of the street and around the corner, the realization that he couldn't return home slamming into him.

  That bitch Lil will have called the police. Shit.

  Out on the main road, he took deep breaths to calm his speeding heart and soothe his stretched nerves. He spied a woman getting out of her car outside a large residence and failing to lock it as she carried paper grocery sacks to her front door. Carl brought his car to a stop a few feet away and shut off the engine. The woman went inside her house, and Carl exited his car, running to the woman's. He slid inside and thanked his lucky stars that keys swung in the ignition. Quickly, he started the car and drove away slowly so as not to alert the owner with screeching tires. As he prepared to turn the corner at the end of her street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The woman stood on the sidewalk where her car had been parked, hands on hips, a look of confusion on her face.

  Carl turned right and laughed his adrenaline-fuelled ass off.

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  * * *

  Chapter Six

  * * * *

  Vic—the cop...why I thought we were on a first-name basis eluded me at the moment—didn't speak as he'd manoeuvred the car away from Brian's building. His face was grim, blank—except his eyes. They were too deep, too intent. That look sent shivers through me, like he was trying to memorize my face, trying to see into my head, trying to...

  “What?” My question came out harsh. Yeah. It sounded surly. Fear did that to a person.

  I shifted, trying to ease the ache of shoulders held at an awkward, humiliating angle by the cuffs. The metal bit right through the bandages Lil had applied, and the pain cleared away some of the fog of shock. “You keep staring. What's your problem?”

  “What do you see in him?”

  “Brian?” What the hell was going through his head? “He's my best friend. We've been—”

  “No. Not Brian. I know that. I know how long you've known him. I know...” He wove through traffic, chewed on his lip, glanced at my reflection, and came to some decision that eased a bit of the tension out of his grip on the wheel. “I know about you. Your mother died when you were twelve, your father turned mean. Brian protected you. Both of you swam on the varsity team in high school and won a lot. You went to college with him, and now you coach inner-city kids swimming. You have one kid on the team who could be Olympic if he can get funding. Two years ago, you started culinary school and dropped out when Carl came along, and what the fuck do you see in that jackass?”

  I blinked. “You a cop or a stalker?”

  He sighed, and his eyes drifted back to the road and the red light he'd stopped at. For a few minutes, he didn't say anything. His hands on the wheel, ten and two, were stiff again, like holding it kept him grounded.

  “Too fucking close,” he muttered.

  “What?” I leaned forward, shifting to find a clear view through the mesh separating us.

  His lips tightened into a pinched line. The light turned green. Seconds ticked by. A horn sounded impatiently, and he jerked, a miniscule quirk of his entire body. The car rolled forward, and his fingers loosened. He glanced over his shoulder, searching out my face, rather than settling for my reflection in the rearview mirror. “People want to protect you,” was all he said before swiveling back around and concentrating on the road again.

  My back began to ache with the strain of leaning forward. I sank back into the seat and glared out the window. “Carl used to say that. Never knew what he thought I needed protecting from.”

  Maybe himself.

  “Maybe himself?” Vic voiced my thought.

  My heart flipped over, and I shot a look into the mirror. Vic was watching me again.

  “He's a dangerous man, Paul.”

  “You think?”

  Vic drew in a deep breath. There was something just under the surface. Something he wasn't saying. Something he wanted to say, but wouldn't let himself. “Do you know anything about his past?”

  I shook my head. I'd told him a few things about my own dad once, and he'd shut me up about it. “We didn't talk about our childhoods. He didn't...” I shivered. ‘Didn't like to’ was an understatement. He'd about gone ballistic when I'd told him some of the out-of-control things my father did when he drank.

  “He had an ugly childhood.”

  “Huh.” I'd figured that much out on my own. After that first violently aborted conversation, I didn't ask for details. That wasn't the kind of thing a person like Carl relived with impunity, and his pain never translated to something I could bear much of.

  “Do you love him?” Vic's question caught me off-guard. His voice had changed; gone from cop to something else.

  “What the fuck business is that of yours?” I should have been more angry, more violated he'd ask something like that. I was sitting in cuffs, on my way to who the hell knew what, and we were talking about goddamn fucking Carl. That indignation eclipsed a bit of my fear.

  “It isn't,” he admitted. Yet he met my eye in the mirror, and I had the feeling he was still waiting for an answer.

  And I didn't have one. Carl had beaten me, and, I had to admit, Lil was right. For all I hadn't resisted him, I hadn't wanted that last round. It hadn't been sex; just a form of violence that hurt less than fists or his belt. And he'd left me helpless and in danger. How could you love a man who did that? I broke the eye contact first. “He didn't start out that way...”

  “They never do.”

  “Guess you hear this shit a lot, huh?”

  Vic snorted. “You think hearing it over and over makes it any easier to listen to?”

  “Probably just makes you wonder what all the saps are thinking, getting caught in it. You'd have to be an idiot to let it go that far.”

  “No one thinks you're an idiot, Paul.”

  I chewed on the inside of my lip and said nothing.

  “Brian and Lil are just worried sick.”

  It all clicked into place. Of course. He knew Brian. He would know all about me. “Brian's a good guy. I doubt Lil worries about me any more than beyond my bad influence on his lover.” I had to give Lil credit, though. He was a lot more charitable about Brian's concern for me than I was about putting up with him.

  A chuckle from the front seat startled me into drawing my gaze from the guard rail posts flinging past and back to the mirror. “You have no idea. Lil's been through shit. He knows bad times. He'd do for you even if Brian didn't ask, because he's been there.” Vic's deep brown eyes met mine again. “He and his brother, they had a lot in common.” He left the explanation dangling a moment as he pulled into the police station and around back, then shut off the engine. “Nothing hurts worse than making those mistakes, losing everything, and just when you think you're going to get back what's most important, having it torn away like what happened to him. He wouldn't sit back and watch it happen to someone else.”

  I nodded, understanding. Lil would do for me what he had to in order to protect Brian, to keep him from the pain of losing a brother, because essentially, blood or not, that's what we were to each other.

  “I have to take you in now.”

  Like that. The fear slammed back into my gut, and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Please don't do this.” Every nightmare Carl had visited on me screamed along my nerves at the thought of being surrounded by a dozen like him. “I don't know how...I didn't...I was at Brian's all night. On his couch. I—”

  Vic pursed his lips, got out of the car, and came round to open my door.

  I didn't move.

  “Paul.” He said my name so softly. It almost sounded reassuring, and I looked up at him, squinting at the morning sun grindi
ng into my eyes over his shoulder. He glanced around as though looking to see if anyone was watching, then he crouched down. “Will you trust me?”

  I had a hard time keeping the dizzying panic away. I just stared at him.

  “I am not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Why would you even care? You don't know me.”

  He smiled, a self-deprecating expression, and dropped his gaze for a fraction of a second. “I'm in over my head here, Paul. I know you didn't do anything. I know it like I know my own name. I would and I will stake my reputation as a good cop on it, but I cannot ignore the law. If I do, I lose all the power I have to help you.”

  “No one in there is going to believe me.”

  Vic bit his lip, his face going grim enough to be an answer without his next words. “No. They want a perp. At this point, it doesn't matter who. Jason was a good cop, a good man, and he's been dead months. Having no leads is making them desperate and furious. They figure they've got their first break and they'll be hard to convince it isn't the right one.”

  “You were his partner. Why do you believe me?”

  Again, that quirk of a smile, directed at some shortcoming of his own I wasn't seeing, crossed his face. “Because I...fell.”

  “Fell?”

  He shook his head. “The night after Jason died, I went back to The Anchor. Don't even know why. To try and find what we missed, maybe. It was my first mistake. I was supposed to stay away, stay out of the investigation.”

  “He was your partner.”

  “Which is why I should have stayed away.” He lifted his gaze, and this time, there was no mistaking that he was not talking to me as a cop now.

  I could have tumbled into those eyes, cuffs and all, and never come out.

  “I saw you there, Paul. With Carl. I don't know what it was. Something he said, some way he looked at you, or you looked at him. Something. I don't know, but it got my hackles up. When you went to the bathroom at one point, he slipped out the back door, and I followed him. He was standing in the alley, just inside the crime tape, staring at the spot we found Jason's body. He had the strangest look on his face. I can't even describe it, except I would not want to know what was going through his head at that moment. He went back inside, grabbed you and dragged you out. Like he was terrified.”