by J P Sayle
His head rested back on the cushioned headrest. He barely resisted the urge to shut his weary eyes. He wanted a minute’s peace to deal with everything he’d been through in the last…
As he checked the dash, his mouth gaped.
“No way!”
Greg’s lips flapped open aimlessly. He was gobsmacked.
How did my life get turned on its head in an hour and a half?
How, for pity’s sake?
How?
He clenched his fists, and his shoulders tensed with each step he took away from what he knew, without a shadow of doubt, was his soulmate.
Aaden opened his mind link, firing angry questions at Max faster than a machine gun. “Did you know, did you? Why the hell didn’t you let on this was the place where my fucking soulmate was? Why? Max, you little shithead, answer me. I’m going to kill you with my bare hands. I swear to God you’d better answer me.” Aaden’s loud and angry tirade garnered him nothing, no response, not even a flicker of acknowledgment that Max had heard him.
Max had to have known. He had to, or else why would he have been so damn adamant I needed to help Joe?
His mind went round and round in circles chasing his own tail. All the while Max remained stubbornly unresponsive.
He knew he was there, hovering on the edge of his thoughts. It wasn’t like he could ever forget the nothingness he’d felt last night. No, Max was there, the little fucker. He was choosing to ignore him. Well, two could play this game. The sudden sense of apprehension had an evil smirk light his eyes. “Yeah, that’s right. Worry, you little shit.”
Aaden closed his mind off, hoping he could do it as effectively as Max.
Immediately his other senses latched on to the small, lithe, red-headed man—Greg. He could feel the imprint of Greg on his skin where he’d been sprawled across him. He felt he’d been sitting in the tattooist’s chair for hours, being indelibly inked. Was he like the werewolves in Twilight, where they imprinted on another person whether they wanted to or not? Leaving them no will of their own to fight against the power the other person held over them.
Whether that shit was made up or not, he personally didn’t like this feeling, not one fucking iota. He was also never going to admit to watching all those films and enjoying them. Never gonna happen.
Max had always made this soulmate stuff sound great. Well, he was going to set that fucker straight. There was nothing fucking pleasant or romantic about how his body was currently feeling. His cock could drive a bloody nail through metal it was so hard.
His teeth clenched, and he thrust his jaw forward as if it sought vengeance for what he’d just had to endure. At least his army fatigues had hidden most of his arousal. He was grateful for small mercies.
Not that his body was seeing it quite like that. No, all it wanted to do was go back and sink as deep as he could in whatever orifice he could access first and rut like a stallion. His red beauty had reminded him of the sleek horse. The children’s series “Black Beauty” sprang to mind, all sleek legs and elegant beauty. His creepy thoughts made him feel slightly weirded out thinking about kids TV programmes and horses.
Paying no attention to them, he pushed down on the more urgent demand in his pants in an attempt to alleviate the ache between his powerful thighs. He gave it up as a lost cause when the lingering scent of lemongrass wafted with each step he took up the steep embankment. His own body heat warmed the air around him, ensuring the enticing aroma was inhaled with every breath.
For the last three days, the island has been as windy as fuck, so why of all days, today, does it only offer a slight fucking breeze? Hey, why?
He overlooked what his body was telling him. Instead he worked on breathing through his mouth. He tugged the collar of his jacket open in frustration, undoing the zip and pushing the scented material further away from his nose, hoping it would help.
Chaotic thoughts tumbled through his head, running like unruly children. It didn’t help to calm his erratic heart pounding in his ears. Aaden used the breathing techniques he’d learnt to deal with his recurring nightmares when he felt the box inside his mind try to open again. He actively yanked up the sides, reminding himself why he had built it in the first place. Locking up his thoughts, he veered his mind away from going anywhere near the box.
The recent encounter with a certain red-headed beauty had given him enough to deal with in the present without the past trying to interfere.
Tensing and releasing his muscles systematically, he counted slowly through each inhale and exhale until they were the same length. Keeping his focus, he moved with purpose and ensured his large frame was as low to the ground as possible. He allowed the schematics to form in his mind’s eye, letting them distract him from his unruly thoughts.
He silently edged around the side of the building, his footsteps light on the long, cushioned grass.
Not pausing, he cursed his forgetfulness at not getting Joe’s electronic jammer.
Aaden directed all his attention to the building in front of him. He searched the outside of the building for anything that would resemble a trap. He relaxed his mind using all his senses. Sensing nothing, Aden considered either Joel hadn’t secured the perimeter, or if he had, he’d done a lousy job of it.
Having known Joel for several years, Aaden opted for option two. Joel had always been lazy and careless. Aaden scratched his head, trying to understand how someone as great as Joe hadn’t seen what a prick Joel was. He supposed in hindsight he hadn’t expected this level of crazy either. Fuck, firing at them in broad daylight with possible witnesses was just plain reckless and stupid.
Aaden chewed on his lip. Whatever the outcome, he knew Joel wasn’t going to come out waving a white flag, that was for sure. Joel had far too much at stake, and Aaden considered himself lucky Joe hadn’t cottoned on to that fact. After their last disastrous encounter with Joel, Aaden didn’t want or need Joe’s guilt to cloud his judgement. He couldn’t afford to be lenient this time. There were too many lives at risk, and that included his red-headed beauty.
Joel couldn’t have missed seeing Greg when he’d fired the gun directly at them. Certainly not with all that bright red hair; he was impossible to miss. He himself may not be on board with this Greg being his one and only right now, but he would kill anyone who harmed one hair on his head.
Pain had him unclenching his hands. The deep grooves he could see embedded into his palm had him puffing out his cheeks.
No, it just wasn’t optional. I can’t let anything happen to Greg, not now, not ever.
Side-tracked by sounds coming out of the broken window, Aaden hunkered down closer to the building as he listened. Crazed muttering hardly distinguishable was followed by heavy footfall across what sounded like a concrete floor, moving away from him. Aaden took a chance, peeking over the rim of the broken window. The dim light filtering through the window showed the devastation to the room.
He visualised the interior of the building from his perusal of the schematics. He felt he’d missed a chance to question his red beauty about the internal rooms. His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. He was not sure if it was because of the missed opportunity or the fact the voice inside his head kept referring to Greg as his red beauty.
He forced his mouth to unclamp.
Physically forcing his mind away from his train of thought, he gave a quick look over his shoulder to the men making their way down the hill. Assured they were out of harm’s way, he edged over the window ledge. Aaden moved swiftly and quietly in the dim light.
This was his area of specialty, capture and detain. He’d been trained by the best and was highly skilled. Those training him had worried about his sheer size in the beginning. He’d proven that his size was of no consequence when he had the ability to blend, become invisible when he needed to.
Just like now, he focused his mind, concentrating on slowing his breathing. He crouched, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Aaden observed the pile of demolition lying in a heap
in the middle of an otherwise empty room. He surmised this had been what Stuart had been tied to and the sounds of destruction he’d heard earlier.
He slowly manoeuvred around the mess, keeping his senses on high alert for any danger. Following the light to the doorway, he halted when a menacing voice shouted out.
“I know you’re here somewhere, you big fucker. But I won’t be as easy to take down. Now you haven’t gotten the element of surprise. You think I haven’t been watching you since you got here three days ago? I know you. I’ve seen you talking to your fucking fat cat as if he can understand you. I see you. They think I’m the crazy one. All because I know Joe belongs to me. Is mine. Do you hear me? Mine and no one else’s.”
Aaden discounted the insane ranting and tried to pinpoint exactly where Joel was. He couldn’t give two shits what Joel had seen or not seen. He sensed Joel wasn’t quite as confident with where he was situated in the building. Otherwise, he’d have been on him like white on rice.
His primary goal now was to tranq him, tie the big fucker up, and hide his unconscious arse in his van. It would allow Aaden to take Joel to the dock, to get the ferry to the UK.
The boat, as far as he could see, may be the only sticking point in his plan if they decided to search the van. He wasn’t concerned about the sniffer dogs detecting anything, but an unconscious man tied up. That may raise a few questions. He wasn’t quite sure how he would answer. He gave a silent groan, knowing he didn’t have any other option. So he’d play that part by ear and pray he wasn’t stopped. Or Brody would be paying him a visit instead of the other way round.
Aaden shrugged off the disquiet. His lips curled up. His dark eyes glinted in the dim light with menace when his mind prompted him about the very last option: killing Joel. As much as that appealed on some level, he’d never killed in cold blood, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He reared back into the wall behind him, thudding. The box inside his mind opened too quickly to stop. It shocked him senseless with odours of scorching flesh and wood. With Herculean effort he focused on his plan and not on the smell that seemed stuck in his sinuses, making them burn.
It’s not real; it’s not real. It’s not real, Goddammit.
He listened for Joel, pulling back his hair with trembling fingers, and using a leather band he normally wore on his wrist, he tied it back off his face. He forced his mind away from the past and focused on the here and now. He trusted his plan, and Brody, to arrest Joel once he’d presented the evidence they’d gathered. He acknowledged the knots tying his gut into balls of stress. I have this under control, I hope.
Not giving himself time to reconsider, he crept to the one doorway in the room. He listened to Joel’s continued ranting. He let it guide him directly to his prey. He tiptoed towards the far side of the building, moving noiselessly towards the rear of the building where the larger doors were located to allow access for bikes to be wheeled inside.
A sliver of daylight cast a long shadow towards where he was going. Cursing his bad luck, he edged along the wall, attempting to keep out of the light. The sudden silence had him strain his head towards where the ranting had been coming from. He held his breath when the urge to move had him pull back just as Joel’s broad shoulders blocked the light, a moment before he launched at where Aaden had been standing a second earlier.
Aaden didn’t hesitate and rolled across the hard ground, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as it hit concrete. He escaped by a hair’s breadth. Joel’s heavy wheezes were followed by a resounding crash. His large frame collided none too gently with the wall. The thud dislodged several large chunks of plaster that showered the floor. The sound was louder than hail hitting a tin roof.
Aaden didn’t let it distract him.
He moved fluidly, his body in tune with his mind, as he used the darkest part of the room to shield him. Aaden took a chance, coming up quickly behind Joel and putting him in a chokehold. He pressed down hard on the pressure point in his neck, wanting to immobilise Joel.
Aaden immediately felt Joel shift his weight forward as he attempted to drag his body away from Aaden’s strong grip. Grunting under the sudden loss of balance, Aaden braced his powerful legs. He yanked Joel back up, not letting up the pressure for a moment. Joel’s elbow crashed back into his rib cage. He doubled forward with Joel from the impact. Aaden sucked in a breath as pain danced across his stomach. His eyes watered. Shaking his head to clear it, Aaden used a countermanoeuvre, and he dragged Joel back into his body.
Joel’s size-eleven foot slammed down on to his instep, crushing his foot inside his boot. Aaden winced and struggled to keep his focus. He swore up a storm. He’d be lucky if it wasn’t broken. He fought past the pain, letting the adrenaline flooding his system take over.
He hardly registered the surprise he felt at Joel’s increased strength. It didn’t matter. There was only going to be one victor today, and as far as he was concerned, that was him.
Joel got in another stab at his ribs. Pain sang up into Aaden’s left arm. He purposely loosened his grip. At the same time he drew in a deep breath and went floppy to allow his body to crash into Joel’s. Using all his weight, he slammed Joel into the wall in front of them. The noise was deafening as the remaining windows rattled around the room as yet more chunks of plaster littered the floor around them.
Joel’s loud grunts and curses filled the air.
Paying no attention to anything but the fight, Aaden released his grip. Pummelling his fists into Joel’s lower back, he aimed for his kidneys, managing to get in several good, solid blows. His fists tightened under the onslaught, but he kept going. The red rage filling his mind wanted out, wanted vengeance for his friend, and though Stuart wasn’t one, Joe was.
Bringing a picture of the damage Joel had inflicted on Stuart, Aaden went for all the same areas, pounding into him forcefully. Joel slid down the wall face first. Aaden yanked him up by his soaking hair and propelled him forward, using his own weight to shift them. He forced Joel’s face into the broken plaster. The dent and resounding thud was so gratifying he did it again.
Aaden grunted, his brain kicking in a second too late as he realised Joel had managed to kick back. He was caught on the patella, leaving him no choice but to release Joel. He didn’t want to risk Joel landing on top of him and potentially immobilising him.
Aaden gasped when the sharp pain in his left kneecap had his leg quake and gave way under him. He wheezed, and his eyes watered when it hit the hard ground, pushing bits of rubble into the fabric of his trousers.
He did a quick assessment of the extent of the damage to his leg. Aaden rubbed at his watering eyes, in the meantime monitoring every move Joel made. He was shocked into stillness when instead of attacking, Joel ran towards the partially open door. A sudden burst of light blinded him for a second. He blinked, grimacing at the devastation they’d caused. He sent up a silent prayer that whoever owned the building had insurance.
Jumping up, he ignored the pain that sliced down the outside of his leg and foot. Instead he leapt through the open door. Aaden searched to see which way Joel had run. Joel’s broad back headed towards the grassy slope, heading to the road.
Aaden rapidly checked his pocket to see if he still had his tranquiliser gun. His lips curved as he pulled it out of his coat and checked the chamber with quick efficiency. He steadied his hand, taking aim at Joel’s retreating form. He fired two shots into his buttocks. The slight jerk of Joel’s body was the only sign he’d hit his target. The pellets, he knew would disperse into Joel’s body rapidly, leaving no trace. Aaden counted down the seconds it would take for the capsules to dissolve and take effect.
His attention wavered when movement caught his eye, and he groaned at his bad luck. He watched a group of about ten people cross over the ridge of the hill from his right, walking directly into Joel’s path.
“Fuck.”
Unsure if Joel had spotted them, he focused his gaze back on a stumbling Joel. His forward momentum had his arms flapping
, and his uncooperative legs had him stagger towards the steep part of the embankment. Aaden exhaled loudly, seeing what was about to happen but unable to stop it.
Aaden stepped back into the shadows of the building, knowing there was nothing he could do now but let it play out.
As he scrutinised the men and women, he noted the minute they saw Joel.
Joel’s large frame made it nigh on impossible to stop him from propelling forward and down the hillside. The drugs circulating in his system effectively removed any coordination he had. Their startled cries and shouts did little, other than fill the quiet stillness. Heavy, soled boots thudded in unison. They ran at speed towards Joel, hoping to prevent what was happening.
Aaden jerked at the resounding crack he heard when Joel’s tumbling body hit a large jagged rock and his body stilled. Joel’s head lay at an awkward angle, leaving little to the imagination. Disregarding his clutching stomach at the sight of yet more death, he waited to see what the ramblers would do.
He leant back against the building and listened to the excited chatter floating towards him. It never failed to surprise him how macabre people were. If they’d ever encountered a war-torn country, where death littered the streets, they wouldn’t be so fucking jolly then.
The tug at his heart had him push the sentiments away.
He faced towards the winter sun that started to peek through the grey clouds. The warmth filtered through some of the cold dread sitting inside his soul at seeing yet more death.
Closing his eyes, he shut out the thoughts of whether Joel deserved it or not, Aaden offered up a small prayer. He acknowledged and accepted the satisfaction he felt that Joel would no longer be a threat to his friends. Death, he knew, was a price he hadn’t wanted for any of them.