by Rachel Kane
“You know that’s not how this works,” said the smoker. He glanced at the crowds. “What about that bar?”
Jace gave the two men a long look. The back of his mind calculated risks, threats, and what might go wrong if he and Trent didn’t follow the guys. “All right,” he said, finally.
From behind him, Trent whispered, “What are you doing? We’ve got to get away!”
Jace whispered back, “You’re refusing to testify, right? Here’s your chance to give them that message. Seriously, this might be the best thing that could happen. They’ll let Grumman know, and then the pressure will be off.”
But the worried look on Trent’s face troubled him.
It was one thing for someone to blow off their moral responsibility. He’d seen it a million times, family men getting into life-destroying affairs, not concerned at all about the repercussions until it was too late.
But it was another, for someone to have to weigh all the various forms of guilt and fear. It didn’t matter what Trent did, he was going to lose. He might lose his life or his health if he testified; but if he didn’t, he would lose his reputation, his livelihood…maybe even the ability to look himself in the eye.
There was only one other time Jace had ever seen someone so weighed down by a decision like this. Only one other time Jace had been responsible for the safety of someone in this position.
And that time, he had utterly failed to keep his client safe.
15
The bar was dark and silent. Trent didn’t even know bars were open on Sunday mornings. The bartender looked like he hadn’t been aware of it either, looking at the four of them with a tired expression on his face, watching them take a booth in the back without ordering anything.
Trent started to sit with Jace in the booth, but the men weren’t having that. Jace was sent to one side, Trent the other, and then each was blocked in. Smoking guy, the one the short guy had called Harold, was next to Trent. The bulge in his jacket pocket was unmistakable.
Harold shook out a cigarette and tapped it on the table. “Now,” he said, lighting up. “I’ve been asked to have a conversation with the two of you.”
“You don’t need to,” said Jace. He nodded towards Trent. “He’s decided not to testify.”
Harold’s eyebrows went up. “That so? What changed your mind?”
Trent’s mouth was so dry he could barely speak. He wondered if he could order a beer. Once this was over, he was going to have several.
“Don’t be smug,” said Jace. “He’s doing exactly what you want. Go easy on him.”
The short guy laughed cruelly at this. “We haven’t even said what we want.”
Harold looked down at the burning ember of his cigarette. “We have a mutual friend—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t be call cagey,” said Jace. “We know who you are talking about.”
That cigarette was suddenly pointed right at Jace’s eye. Trent gasped in horror.
Harold said, “Rule one for this conversation is that you don’t make any of the rules. Got it? This isn’t a negotiation. I was being polite when I called it a conversation, but we don’t have to be polite. At all. Now let me know you understand that.”
Trent stared at Jace. He’d only known Jace a short while, but had never seen him this angry. He couldn’t imagine the forces Jace was restraining within himself. The bodyguard looked like he was ready to flip the table and destroy Grumman’s men.
Honestly, Trent wished he would. He also wished Jace would do all the talking. He wished he could hide.
The bartender came over, a towel in his hand, drying a glass. “You boys need anything over here?”
“We’re fine,” said Harold, not looking at him. His eyes had not left Jace’s.
“Fine? All right,” said the bartender. “It’s just that usually people order drinks in a bar. Unless they’re up to something. You up to something?”
Jace rapped his knuckles on the table and said, “We’re good, Mark. Give us another couple minutes. I’m just showing these guys around town.”
“If you say so,” said the bartender, looking skeptical but going back to the bar.
“Now,” said Harold. “If all these interruptions are finished? Good.” He turned away from Jace and faced Trent. His eyes, up close, were bloodshot with yellow sclerae. “Our mutual friend is very worried about you, Trent. He’s concerned that Jace’s brother and sister have been telling you tales. Making you worry. Keeping you up at night with fear.”
Trent had no idea how to respond to that. His eyes flicked over to Jace, but Jace had no help to offer.
“They’re not the ones who scare me,” said Trent.
Harold took a long drag from his cigarette, staring. Trent felt so exposed, like those yellow eyes could see right into him. After studying Trent for a moment, Harold seemed to relax. That same crooked smile played across his thin lips.
“Here’s the plan,” said Harold. “Our mutual friend feels it’d be in your best interest not to testify, like you just said.”
Trent almost blurted out his agreement, but Jace shot him a worried look. He kept still and silent.
“You’re going to make a phone call,” Harold continued. “You’re going to tell Mr. Lawyer that you don’t have anything to say. You changed your mind. You misremembered.”
“That’s it? I make that call, and you leave me alone?”
A thin laugh from the shorter man.
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” said Harold. “Nice if we could all trust one another like that. But you’ve got a very angry pal here, Trent. He looks like he might want to do us some damage. And his brother is the same way. So we need a little insurance. We’re all going to stay together, one big happy family, until I get a call that says the lawsuit has been dropped. Sound good? Once the suit is gone, you get to go home.”
“I don’t have a home,” said Trent. “You guys saw to that.”
“Mm-hm. Shame about your apartment. And from what I hear, you’ve got no job to go back to, either.”
Trent paled. “I still have a job.”
Harold shook his head. “Not if you testify. Our friend is a big donor to the school district. You don’t have a job unless he says you do.”
“Enough of the threats,” said Jace.
Harold nodded. “I agree. It’s all pointless. Because Trent here is going to make the call. Aren’t you, Trent? I’ll sweeten the pot. Our friend will make sure you get a place to live. He’s got a lot of properties in the city. Easy to get you a new apartment. And you’ll be able to go right back to your little school library. Live your quiet boring life, no more trouble. Do you like that idea?”
From the moment Trent had realized he and Jace had been spied on last night, right up until Harold began speaking, he’d been confident about what he had to do. As much as it hurt him, as much as the guilt felt like an endless pit opening up underneath him, he knew that he would be no good to the kids at school, no good to his family, if he wound up dead.
He’d rationalized it to himself. If Harlan and Dodi had a strong case against Grumman, then they didn’t really need the testimony of one person to bolster things. They could win the case without Trent. If they had a weak case that just relied on Trent, then they really didn’t need him, because they were going to lose anyway, so he was undertaking all this risk for nothing.
It had made perfect sense. All he had to do was relinquish this one little responsibility.
“No thanks,” he said quietly.
Harold tensed. His partner’s face reddened.
“I’m not sure you understand what I’m saying,” Harold said.
Trent shook his head. “No. I understand. You’ll reward me for not testifying, or you’ll punish me for testifying. Whatever. Either way, you’re going to make it so I can’t live with myself and my conscience.”
A moment of silence hung over the table, thick and heavy as Harold’s cigarette smoke.
Now Trent looked at Jace. “All m
y life I’ve been in hiding. Hiding from myself, from other people, from my fear. What do I have to go back to? More hiding? After all this is over, my mind is just going to find another thing to be afraid of, another thing to torture me over.”
Harold leaned toward him. “If you don’t call the lawyer, there’s not going to be an after this. Do you understand that part?”
There it was. The terror he had felt, stated plainly. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, and looked again at Jace for guidance. Or comfort. Or anything, just something to say this might be okay.
“If Trent doesn’t show up for the deposition tomorrow,” said Jace, “what do you think the judge is going to do to your boss? This isn’t some strung-out druggie who might go missing randomly. When they don’t hear from Trent, and don’t hear from me, they’re going to know exactly what happened.”
“Well,” said Harold. “They’re not going to know exactly what happened. Because they’re not going to find you. Ever.”
“Nah. You’re too late for all that,” said Jace. “My brother was already getting on the phone with your boss’s lawyers. Keeping everybody on the same page. Everybody knows you came to watch us. Everybody knows the threat. You’re not getting out of this.”
Harold put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table, nodding his head at every word Jace said. “Yup. Yup. Absolutely. Except you are getting your facts wrong. You’re assuming our friend’s lawyers know anything about this. You’re assuming they have any pull at all. They’re nice men, I’m sure. Well-paid. But by the time they talk to my boss, you two will be history.”
There are moments when fear clouds all the senses, when the mind goes in crazy circles, unable to see anything but its own panic.
But there are moments when fear instead is like an icy breeze, cutting through all the nonsense in your head, leaving everything crystal clear.
In that moment, Trent’s senses seemed to take in the entire bar. Not just the stench of smoke and old spilled beer and vinyl seats, or the quiet sound of the jukebox, or the dim light filtering in through the filthy windows.
The other thing his senses picked up was a certain silence from the bar. The bartender was no longer washing glasses, clinking them together. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.
That, more than anything, sent Trent almost to the point of losing hope.
Almost.
If you’re going to do something brave, though, you might as well go all the way.
Without looking at Jace, without making eye contact with anyone, Trent reached for the ashtray. He moved faster than he ever had, grabbing it and throwing it at Harold’s face. Ashes sprayed the air. Harold winced and coughed, the powder getting in his eyes and into his mouth.
It wasn’t much, but it was a surprise. When the short guy looked over to see what was going on with Harold, Jace took his opportunity, wrapping a thick arm around the guy’s throat.
Trent shoved at Harold, trying to get him out of the way. He needed room, just a little space to maneuver, to get out of the booth and out of the bar.
But these two weren’t just random guys off the street. They were trained to hurt people. Eyes still watering with pain, Harold aimed a punch that went right to the side of Trent’s head.
It made Trent’s teeth clack together, and his vision did funny things for a second.
“All right,” said Harold. He reached out and grabbed Trent by the shoulders, dragging him out of the booth.
Jace was still grappling with Harold’s partner.
Trent couldn’t think anymore. When it comes to fight or flight, sometimes fight wins. He struggled out of Harold’s hands.
The unmistakable sound of a shotgun being racked brought everything to stillness and quiet. Trent looked up, and saw Mark the bartender holding the weapon. Not aiming it at them.
Trent felt like he couldn’t move. Then he saw Jace visibly relaxing. Was there reason to hope?
“Now, you boys have already pissed me off by sitting in my bar and not ordering drinks,” said Mark, stepping towards them, “but now you start a fight, too? You trying to get the county to shut me down? I won’t have it.”
“Listen, fella, easy now,” said Harold. “You want us to buy a few drinks, that’s fine. How about I just leave a tip here on the table for your trouble? Just a little something so you’ll forget all about us?”
Harold’s hand crept towards his jacket’s inner pocket, as though reaching for his wallet. Then his hand stopped, as Mark’s gun got even closer.
“I recognize two of you,” said Mark. “You two can get on out of here. But Smoky and Shorty here, you take a seat.”
Trent could not believe it. He wanted to say something, to thank Mark for intervening, or to ask Jace if this meant they were safe, but there was no time for words. Jace grabbed his arm and ran for the door.
“Oh thank god,” said Trent, once they were outside. He laughed and slapped Jace’s shoulder. “Finally. It’s finally over, and I’m safe.”
But the laughter died when he saw the expression Jace was giving him. “We are safe, right, Jace?”
“We are in so much trouble, Trent.” He began rushing down the sidewalk. Trent followed, his heart right back in his throat.
16
“You could at least tell me where we’re going,” said Trent.
He could barely get a word out without his teeth clacking together. The borrowed jeep careened over bumps and potholes, its shocks squeaking in protest. It had been rough enough on their prior trips, with Jace driving slowly and carefully over the rutted roads. But this time, he wasn’t trying to be careful. He was trying to be fast.
Trent was holding on for dear life. The road was terrifying, and the steep drop down the mountain was only an arm’s length away. The only distraction was constantly checking the side mirror to see if anyone was following them.
The jeep was Old Al’s. He had given over the keys without question, although to Trent it might as well have taken hours, as he looked over his shoulder, expecting Grumman’s men to burst in. But Al hadn’t asked any questions, trusting Jace’s promise to explain later.
Now they were going deeper into the mountain forest.
Jace wouldn’t speak. The look on his face was pure determination. Twice now Trent had asked him questions, and gotten no response at all, not even a look from the bodyguard.
Now that the energy of the escape had drained out of him, Trent was left with an edgy nervousness in need of soothing. But soothing wasn’t on the menu.
The road ended abruptly at a stand of trees, and Jace threw the jeep into neutral and cranked the parking brake.
“Where are we?” asked Trent.
“Nowhere, yet. Come on.”
There was no trail in sight, yet Jace seemed to know where to go. Trent followed him up the steep slope, putting his hands against the trees for support as they climbed further upward. His feet slipped on wet pine needles. Every few yards Jace would stop, put up a warning hand, and they would stand silently and listen.
There were no sounds of cars. No voices or footsteps.
Any other time, the silence would have been peaceful, calming, welcoming. Right now, it seemed heavy in his ears. He could hear his pulse pounding.
They climbed until they reached an ancient-looking building, covered in moss and ferns. It was made of thick old logs and heavy stone.
“What is this place?”
“This is Al’s lodge. He comes up here when he hunts.”
Trent nudged the line of ferns growing in front of the door. “He must not hunt often.”
Jace circled the building, stopping at each corner to gaze out at the forest, looking back at the windows. “Okay. Good visibility for the trail. We should be able to see anyone coming. I think we’ll be safe here.”
And that’s what did it, hearing the word safe.
All the energy was gone from Trent’s body. He he slumped to the ground, one hand against the side of the lodge to ease himself down. He lay his face a
gainst the cool, damp wood of the building, trying to force himself not to sob. It was hard. He inhaled a huge gulp of air.
There were worries: They had no supplies. The few clothes he had were back at the other cabin. How would they know when it was safe to come down? But all these were overwhelmed by the exhaustion Trent felt.
It took him a minute to realize Jace had knelt beside him, a concerned look in his eyes.
“I’m okay,” said Trent.
“You’re not.”
He rubbed his sleeve against his eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”
Jace helped him up, his hands strong against Trent’s biceps. But Trent’s legs apparently weren’t ready yet. His knees felt like water. He collapsed against Jace’s chest.
He pressed his face against Jace’s shoulder, feeling the man’s arms surround him. There were not words for the complexities of Jace’s scent, the citrus of his sweat, the pine of his hair.
There were no words to say. Just a desperation for something real, something comforting and safe. Trent’s lips found the skin of Jace’s throat, and kissed just over his pulse point. He felt his own heart throbbing again.
“This is—” began Jace, but then shook his head and pulled Trent even closer. His lips were warm, his tongue sweet.
Trent felt himself stir to life under Jace’s attentions. His back stretched and arched when Jace’s cool hand made its way under his shirt and touched bare skin.
This was madness. An hour ago their lives had been threatened; how did it make sense to fall into each other’s arms, here in the open? But right now all Trent wanted was to hold Jace and to be held, under these towering trees, in the seclusion of the quiet forest.
His fingers slid up Jace’s shirt, undoing buttons, brushing against the soft skin and hard muscle of his chest. Then he slid his hands down, over the ridged belly, reaching into the bodyguard’s jeans. There he found Jace hard and ready. As his hands squeezed Jace’s shaft, Trent heard him gasp.
When he unzipped Jace and pulled the bodyguard’s heavy cock from his jeans, Trent found himself acutely aware of how out in the open they were. The forest felt secluded…but was it? Someone had found them before. Could someone find them now?