by BA Tortuga
Better. Sometimes he worried the man was broken, but he always came back. Sonny nodded, getting up to go grab the pack they’d left in the front room. He came back with riot cuffs and his syringe pack. “So get them some clothes. And their IDs and shit if you can find them.”
“Yeah. I’ll pack enough that it looks like they’ve run together, should someone decide to sort through the rubble.” MJ stood and started rummaging. “As big of a mess as this is, no one will ever fucking know. Of course, I could always set a charge in here. That’s always handy in times like this.”
Sick bastard, wanting to blow shit up.
“No shit.” Yeah. Yeah, they could do this. They’d figure out what to do with two people in the trunk later. Lord.
“We’ll drag them to the landing and back the car up, yeah? That’ll be faster. We have about three hours before a shift change.” MJ hooted as he grabbed some keys from a pair of slacks. “And we got a rental car with plates we can swipe for the first hundred miles or so.”
“There you go.” He grinned, kissing MJ again as the man went by. He just couldn’t help it. There was something about MJ on adrenaline.
“Mmm. Too bad we have hostages. I could so suck you off in the car on the way out of town.”
“Who says you can’t?” Squeezing MJ’s butt before turning to drug the one he’d just hit, Sonny wiggled his own ass and laughed. “Come on. This is weird with them naked.”
MJ looked them both over, nose wrinkling. “No shit. It’s almost like we’re the fucking bad guys.”
“Yeah.” Sonny hooted. “Imagine that.”
MJ swatted him on the way to the dresser. He held up a Star Wars T-shirt. “Oh. Tacky.”
“Hey, now, don’t knock the force.” Sonny helped search, finding a laptop bag that looked too snazzy to belong to the redhead. “Think this belongs to the hot one?” he asked, waggling an eyebrow.
“Don’t make me beat you, asshole. One or two shots will cure him of the pretty.”
Oh ho. Look at that pissy line MJ’s lips took on. “Oh, come on, Boomer. You know I like blonds.”
Shit, MJ could draw quicker than anyone he’d ever met. Ever. He stared into the muzzle of the gun. “Don’t call me Boomer.”
Lord. A man might think he had to watch what he said. “Sure, Precious. Sure. You know I will never, ever, do it again.”
He even managed not to snort.
“Man, you’re no fun to threaten anymore.” MJ rolled his eyes and tossed over sweats and T-shirts. “Get ’em dressed, redneck.”
He took a deep breath when MJ wasn’t looking. The man thought he wasn’t scared anymore? Shit. Sonny slid the soft clothes over the two limp forms, quiet as a church mouse.
MJ worked quick, filling three gym bags and a suitcase with personal shit and clothes, CDs and papers, all sorts of random crap.
“Don’t forget the laptop in your hurry. And I think there was a little handheld.” Although it was entirely possible that was a video game. They got the rest of the shit together that they needed. Then it was a waiting game. “So what would you do to me if I called you that again?”
“I could stick you under the back seat of the car.” MJ grinned, making sure all the curtains were drawn tight. “Either that or I could tie you in the passenger side and make you watch while I drive.”
“That would just be cruel.” Grinning, he checked out the back window, looking over the access, then pulled the curtain tight-tight again, because God knew, MJ would freak if he didn’t.
“I’m a stone-cold bitch.” MJ stood over the Rick guy and stared down. “Shit. He hasn’t aged a bit. It’s creepy. He seemed like a sweet kid too.”
“Well, what kind of sweet kid does thermonuclear bomb testing or whatever?” Shit, that was just fucked-up.
Something weird as fuck crossed MJ’s face. Something Sonny hadn’t seen before. “You’d be surprised. How long ’til it’s dark?”
“Half hour? Maybe forty-five minutes.” Thank God he’d set his watch to California time. “Whatever will we do for that long?”
MJ was already pacing, going from room to room, eyes on those closed windows. “How long?”
“Don’t make me drug you and drag you too, Precious.” If he didn’t think the security might be smarter than MJ thought they were, he’d start a fight.
“You reach for that paint gun, and you’ll be writing left-handed for months.”
“Lord, you just want to kill my poor hands, don’t you? Come and sit with me, Precious.” He went on out to the living room, leaving the two sleeping beauties in the hall. Moving pizza boxes and shit, he sat down and beckoned.
Sorta did his heart good too, the way MJ came right over, pretty eyes fastened onto his. That shit made a man feel right.
He pulled MJ down against him, knowing now was no time to get busy but knowing that he could calm MJ right down with a little petting and shit. Generally. “We’ll figure it out, man. No worries, huh?”
Sonny ran his fingers up and down MJ’s arm, slow and sure.
“Yeah. Yeah, Sunshine. We will.” MJ looked at him, focusing, trying. “I’m getting too old for this game. No wonder we’re semiretired.”
“Uh-huh. Well, how often are you hired to fuck with someone you know and like, huh?” His hand slid right up to cup the back of MJ’s neck, rubbing away the stiffness.
“Never. Hell, that’s why I really prefer explosives over theft. It’s much more my style.” MJ leaned back into his touch, humming a little.
“There you go.” Sonny massaged harder, really giving MJ the goods.
“Oh. I should have had you in Singapore….” MJ’s lips opened, eyes actually falling closed.
“Uh-huh. You have to take me everywhere now, lover.” Leaning close, he let his lips touch MJ’s, his tongue sneaking between to taste. “And you’ll have to tell me about Singapore sometime. And I’ll tell you about Meridian, Mississippi.”
MJ smiled for him, nodded. Precious loved his stories, loved to sit and listen and laugh.
He could bullshit with the best of them, for sure. They leaned together for a bit, and Sonny chuckled a little, thinking how they’d retell this one over and over. “This will make a great one to share over tequila, man.”
“Mm-hmm. On the boat. In the water with the moon in the air.”
Oh hell yes. Out in the open water with nothing around them.
“Why the hell did we do this again?” he asked, laughing against MJ’s mouth. He took a nice, deep, long kiss this time, knowing it was almost time to go, wanting the closeness.
MJ dove right into it, tongue sliding along his, stroking him. When the kiss broke, those bright eyes twinkled at him. “Because we’re going to make three-quarter of a million, once everything is said and done, Sunshine.”
“Oh, right. That’s a good incentive.” Yeah, they could buy an even better boat. Though, really, he liked their little baby just fine. “You about ready to hit the road, Precious?”
“I think we should. Santa Barbara creeps me right the fuck out. Any place with talking crosswalks can’t be all right.”
“I’ll get the car, okay? You get the shit next to the back door and see if you can’t… well, find a blanket or something.” Taking one last hard kiss, Sonny got up and checked the Glock before heading off to pull the car around. They needed this shit at least partly done, and with any fucking luck, they’d had their one mishap.
He didn’t think MJ could deal with another.
Chapter Eighteen
OH.
Oh man.
Uh.
Ow.
And sorta urk.
And whoa. Dark.
Paddy started trying to move, stretching his legs out and hitting… something?
Someone?
He opened his mouth to ask, when whatever nasty thing was in his mouth stopped him.
Oh.
So entirely not anywhere near okay.
He kinda remembered a fight and a weird, tall, scary guy and Boomer. Or a
t least a scarred-up, scary, older, kinda mean version of the guy he remembered as Boomer.
He tried to think, he really did, but the—car? Truck? It was awful uncomfortable to be an SUV—hit a bump, and he hit his head, and the options were to stop thinking or start puking, and he had this thing in his mouth and there was something in here with him and….
Yeah.
No thinking.
Sleeping.
Waiting.
Maybe when he woke up, it would have been that pizza he and Neil’d eaten.
Sausage had scary shit in it.
Chapter Nineteen
WELL, SHIT.
How the fuck did he end up with two hostages, one five-alarm fire, and one ear that just wouldn’t stop ringing?
Well, he knew about the ringing. He’d had to go back in and blow the first set by hand. Didn’t give them near enough run time.
Still.
Shit.
MJ bounced a little, sucking on a peppermint and staring out the open window. “I can’t tell them we kept him. It’ll ruin our viability.”
“So we don’t tell them. They’ll never know. And, hell, we can get rid of them later, you know?” Sonny was in his element, the wind whistling as the car motivated down the road at high speed. But not high enough to get them arrested.
“Yeah. Yeah. I fucking hate when things don’t go according to plan.” He stopped, tilted his head. “Well, except for a few times. There was this crazed meth dealer in North Carolina one time….”
“Uh-huh. And this terrorist who just assaulted him and threw him down a hill….” Sonny grinned wildly at him. “Man, I want a corn dog.”
“And a chocolate milkshake.” Hell yes. Yes. Something normal and good and chocolate.
“Yeah. I mean we have Ding Dongs, but that just ain’t cutting it. If we park way out in the lot and one of us stays with the car, we could get some.”
“Works for me.” He unwrapped another mint. “You think I should check on the baggage in the trunk, or are they still safe back there?”
His Sonny was the man when it came to nonlethal shit. It was vaguely creepy but incredibly handy.
“They should be good. I’ll let you get the food and give them a look when we stop. The only thing I worry about in an old car like this is the exhaust, though with the revamped engine….” Shrugging, Sonny flipped on the blinker and changed into the slow lane, heading up the next off-ramp with a food and lodging sign. “I need to change the plates anyway.”
“Yeah.” His mind swirled as he tried to figure out whether to hit his hidey-hole in Arizona or listen to Sonny and head north.
“You’re thinking hard, Precious. We definitely need chocolate. We should stock up at the convenience store too. Eventually we’ll have to feed them.” They coasted into a fast-food place that looked just a little greasy spoon and local, the kind of place that no one would ask questions.
“Yeah, they’ll need water too.” He looked over at Sonny. “I’ve never had hostages before.”
At least he got to blow shit up.
“Don’t worry, man. I’m a professional. If anyone sees them, we’ll tell them it’s a Halloween prank.” Oh, that grin was just so full of shit.
“You do seem to have a natural talent for kidnapping, I’ll give you that.” He reached over and goosed Sonny good and hard. “Two corny dogs, two tater tots, two shakes?”
“You know it. No. Make it four corny dogs. I want two. That hauling limp bodies thing is heavy work.” They chuckled together, and Sonny leaned over, surprising him with a hard kiss.
Oh.
Oh, that was what the doctor ordered. “One more?”
“Uh-huh.” Their teeth clacked, Sonny kissed him so hard, one hand cupping his cheek, the square of thumb and palm fitting his jaw perfectly. Shit, yeah. There was nothing like Sonny and his fucking oral fixation to put a man back on track.
“Mmm. Better, Precious?” Sonny licked his lower lip, thumb rubbing his cheek.
MJ pushed the kiss deeper, leaning into Sonny’s hand and fucking that sweet mouth. He finally leaned back, lips tingling and swollen. “Yeah. Better.”
“Good.” Sonny looked just as heavy-eyed and bruised-lipped as he felt. They both got out of the car in unison, Sonny checking the back seat while he wandered off toward the drive-in.
He got the food, although they didn’t have tater tots, so he got curly fries. It sort of weirded him out a bit, that he knew Sonny wouldn’t eat plain old fries. On the other hand, he had two hostages in the trunk of the car, and so long as they didn’t suffocate and start stinking things up, he thought they were dealing with them pretty well.
Sonny leaned on the trunk while he trudged back, arms crossed over his chest. “They’re both still out, but the fumes aren’t a problem. I just dosed them good. We probably need to stop somewhere soon, though, and try to rouse them up, give them water.”
“We’re four hours out from one of my bolt-holes. Haven’t been there in five years, but the chances are good it’s still there. I know the bills are paid.” It wouldn’t be luxury, but it would be solitary as fuck.
“Sounds good. Point the way. After corn dogs.” Grabbing a bag, Sonny headed for the picnic table off at the end of the lot, a scraggly tree hanging over it.
“They didn’t have tater tots, but the shake machine was working.” He dug out the mustard packets and handed some over before he sat.
“Cool. You didn’t just get… oh, you rock. Curly fries.” Sonny’s boot rubbed up against his leg. “This bolt-hole have more than one room?”
“There’s an underground cellar for our friends. Then a nice airy bungalow for us.” He hoped time hadn’t changed things from airy to decrepit.
“There you go. I’m all over that, Precious.” He got a look, those dark eyes serious as a heart attack. “Want you.”
Yeah. Yeah, he and Sonny always needed after they had an… incident.
MJ didn’t argue; he just nodded. “Hard and deep.”
They had enough lube for that, no sweat.
“You know it.”
The way Sonny ate a corn dog ought to be illegal. He’d never thought that kind of food could be sexy until Sonny. Hell, he’d thought Twinkies were gross, once upon a time. He moaned a little.
“Huh?” Licking mustard off his upper lip, Sonny glanced over, hot as the midday sun. “What is it?”
“You and your mouth. I’m sure you’re illegal in at least twenty states.” Possibly thirty, thirty-five. That mouth was special.
“You want it, you got it.” Sonny winked. “Of course, we’re baking our buddies out in the sun, so we might oughta wait.”
“Picky, picky, picky.” He nodded and slurped on his shake, leg shaking as he pushed himself to quit thinking and quit fucking around and get into work mode.
“You’re rocking the table. Maybe sugar was a bad idea.” Oh, the bastard. Crumpling up the trash, Sonny got up and then came around to haul him up too. “Come on, Precious. Sooner we go, the sooner we can fuck.”
“You going to let me drive?” Oh, fucking sounded like a fine idea. He was a fan.
That got him a loud snort. “Hell no. If I want us to get there in one piece so I can have a piece of this?” Sonny squeezed his ass. “I drive.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He stole a kiss, biting good and hard on Sonny’s lip as he pulled away. “Let’s go.”
They hit the road again after that, Sonny driving straight through with that single-minded intensity he admired so damned much. The man had priorities and followed directions pretty well.
He actually dozed for half an hour after they crossed the Gila River and headed south. Sonny’d take care of shit long enough to get a nap.
When he woke up, Sonny was poking him, right in his ribs. “Which way, Precious? Which way. Come on.”
“Ow. Dammit. Uh.” He frowned, trying to remember. “South through the saguaro. What we’re looking for is a wash called Durango.”
God, he hadn’t come out here in a long
fucking time.
“You all right?” That hand slid down to his leg, squeezing a little. “I promise I didn’t drug you.”
“Not even a bit?” He chuckled and nodded. “I’m good. Probably need to get into my bag and grab a red. I’m not usually this stupid sleepy. Oh, right up here, take a left.”
“No, no reds. I don’t need you that jazzed. We need some downtime for at least a day. Then you can bounce all you want.” The car turned, zipping down the increasingly narrow roads under Sonny’s deft control.
“Suck my ass, redneck. I don’t bounce.” Did he? He possibly could. Especially if he was all nervy. Which, the longer he had people in the trunk, the more he got. Nervy, that is.
“I’m working on getting us there. But you gotta bathe first. Your ass is probably all sweaty from that seat,” Sonny said, hooting. The man did amuse himself.
Assuming there was water at the house and someone hadn’t bogarted it. Of course, he’d called Carrie Ann from Yuma, told her to make sure there were towels and lights and some food. He’d change the security codes on the gates and house when they got there.
He flipped his phone open, intending to call and check with her, but the reception out here was worse than crappy.
“The fence there, follow it until you come to a gate. That’ll be ours.”
“You’re worse than my daddy, with all your bolt-holes, Precious.” They finally got to the gate, and it looked to be in pretty good shape. He had to hop out to open it. Sonny grinned over at him when he got back in. “I hope we have electricity.”
“Carrie said she’s been staying here two or three times a year on retreat. We should be good.” He hoped.
“Oh, good.” The bungalow came into view, and sure enough, Carrie had done all right by him. It looked neat as a pin. “Who’s Carrie?”
“My cousin.” Mom’s dealer. Deep-sea diver. Slam poet. Political activist and sometimes Greenpeace film crew. He’d introduced her to her first rally. Mom’d been so proud.
“Oh. Well, that’s cool.” He thought Sonny might have been a little jealous. Just a little. It was cool.
“She’s a sweetheart. Knows her way around a boat. Stay here, Sunshine. If you see anyone, you get the hell out of here.” He slipped out of the car, looking around for signs of a setup, of trouble. Carrie was family, but everybody had a price.