by Abigail Roux
Brandt really liked Shawn Bennett. A lot.
“We should go south a bit. It’s fucking cold up here,” Shawn said as he
stuffed his things haphazardly into his leather bag. Brandt counted his grenades
carefully as he thought about their previous travels. They’d gone to Los Angeles
directly after splitting with the others in search of Shawn’s first hide, and then they’d dipped down to Mexico City for the second. Lastly, they’d travelled back up to
Vancouver to clear out the third.
They were now trying to remain stationary with the loot until it was time for
their reunion with the others, but Brandt kept ‘accidentally’ setting things on fire and so they were forced to keep moving.
He needed the flame, he couldn’t help it. It would start with a flick of a
lighter or the ticking of an alarm clock, and Brandt’s mind would haze over, only to return with Shawn frantically putting out the flames and screaming at him.
Those times were few and far between; Brandt could count only three of
them in the last seventy-nine days.
The other twelve incidents Brandt had instigated intentionally to keep Shawn
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on his toes. When they were down for too long with nothing to occupy them, Shawn
would begin to brood, and when the brooding started Brandt would light something
aflame. The pants had been a real accident, actually, but the effect had been the same.
Brandt was pretty sure Shawn caught on after the second time, but the fact that he’d never said anything told Brandt he probably enjoyed the little game, the distraction.
Until his favorite pair of pants caught on fire, anyway.
Brandt loved Shawn. He was crazy as hell under that normal exterior and
Brandt loved him for it. Now he understood where Remy’s fierce loyalty to the man came from.
“When do we find out where we’re doing the rendezvous?” Brandt asked as
he looked around the room for an errant grenade.
“Remy is supposed to call us at eleven thirty-two exactly on the 29th and let
us know where to meet them. What are you looking for?” Shawn asked suspiciously,
sounding as if he was almost afraid to ask.
“Eh? Oh, nothing. It’s probably rolling around in the Rover somewhere,”
Brandt answered in an off-handed manner as he continued to stuff his things into his bag.
“By ‘rolling around’ do you mean ticking, by any chance?” Shawn asked as
he stopped what he was doing and turned to face Brandt.
“It should be fine,” Brandt assured him with a swipe of his hand. “Although
I suppose if the pin gets caught on something it could be a problem, but I wouldn’t worry about it.” A low growl emitted from Shawn’s direction, and Brandt shivered
happily. “You are one sexy beast when you’re teetering on the edge, you know that?”
he observed casually as he turned around to face the other man.
“You’re close to driving me permanently insane.”
“I hate to tell you, mate, but that’d be a short trip.”
“Kinda like your trip to Hell, yeah?” Shawn responded with a smirk as he
turned back around and zipped up his bag.
“Exactly. It’s warm down there. Hey, we’ve got some time before we have
to leave, you–”
Before Brandt could complete his sentence, Shawn kicked his legs out from
under him and he landed on the floor of the hotel room hard enough to make the
pictures on the walls rattle. Shawn knelt and straddled him, effectively pinning him with his ankles crossed over Brandt’s knees and his hands wrapped firmly around
Brandt’s wrists. Not that Brandt was about to start struggling. Shawn was an excellent top, the best Brandt had ever encountered in fact, and he had no problem with being overpowered.
“You think you’re getting shagged after setting me pants on fire?” Shawn
asked incredulously as he leant over and peered at Brandt’s face bemusedly.
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“Well. It’s not like you were in them at the time,” Brandt argued. Shawn
snarled and his grip tightened around Brandt’s wrists. “Besides, burns give clothing character,” Brandt added with a cheeky smile.
“Stop talking before I change me mind,” Shawn growled before biting down
on Brandt’s lower lip to emphasize his point. Brandt groaned appreciatively and
squirmed as if he were trying to get away. He’d learned that they both enjoyed this little game of sexual cat and mouse immensely, and he gladly played along. “We
don’t have time for this,” Shawn grumbled against Brandt’s lips even as he reached between their bodies and untied the knotted string at the top of Brandt’s track pants.
The other hand gripped Brandt’s wrist so hard Brandt knew there would be bruises
there soon. Probably before they were done fucking.
“Quickly then?” Brandt asked eagerly as he used his newly freed hand to tug
at Shawn’s shirt. Shawn simply nodded and continued to struggle with the knot, and Brandt ran his hand beneath the thin material of the T-shirt and over the hard muscles of Shawn’s stomach and chest. “Both hands,” Brandt grunted in suggestion, and when Shawn released his other wrist in order to untie the knot Brandt ran his hand over Shawn’s thigh and tugged at the back of his knee demandingly.
“That’s how you want it then?” Shawn purred. Brandt nodded his head and
licked his lips in anticipation. Over the last two and a half months, they had gotten pretty good at working together and communicating. Brandt found that Shawn was
easy to work with and easy to predict since he always chose the most unusual and
unlikely route, which was generally Brandt’s way of operating too. And their
understanding wasn’t just physical.
Brandt had found that he truly enjoyed Shawn’s presence, which wasn’t that
surprising. What had surprised him was that Shawn truly enjoyed Brandt’s presence as well. It didn’t matter to Brandt that the other man had threatened to kill him numerous times; he could tell that Shawn liked him. He also enjoyed the fact that Shawn seemed to be able to read his mind as well as his actions. Shawn understood Brandt’s cues as if they were written on his forehead, and Brandt loved him for it.
When Brandt was wanting hard and fast Shawn gave it to him gladly.
Brandt really liked being fucked by Shawn. He was actually able to make
Brandt cry out for more, and Brandt couldn’t begin to describe how much he liked
that. The best thing, though? Shawn had seemingly forgotten their deal that Brandt only got sex when he behaved himself, and so usually even when he set something on fire or had an ‘accident’ like they’d had at that gas station in Albuquerque, Brandt still got fucked more often than not.
He got to blow shit up and get laid. Life was good.
XIX.
REMY had been in several situations where he’d awakened in a strange place. He’d
been in even more situations where he’d awakened with his wrists and ankles tied and
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a gag in his mouth. And he’d lost count of how many times he he’d awakened naked.
But Remy was pretty sure this was the first time all three had happened at the
same time.
It took him several moments to remember that they were in a little town in
central North Carolina and that Nikolaus had just spent half the night fucking him into oblivion. Remy smiled at the memory, but it soon faded. This was the first time he’d fucked someone besides Shawn for the simple pleasure of fucking, and he was
&nb
sp; shocked to find that he felt guilty. Guilt. That was also a first.
Remy closed his eyes and batted that thought away.
They’d left Atlanta and stopped at the first truck stop they’d come across and
gone over the bikes with a fine-toothed comb, looking for tracking devices. They had found three on each bike, which Remy knew was pretty standard, and he had taken
the six little pieces and attached each to a different truck trailer. He made sure that they were all going in different directions, and that one of them was definitely headed for Los Angeles.
“Aren’t we going to Los Angeles?” Nikolaus had asked.
“Yes. Sometimes the secret’s in what’s not there, Niko,” Remy had replied, knowing full well that it probably hadn’t made much sense to the other man. He had to keep Nikolaus thinking, though, just in case something happened to him before
they could meet up with the others and Nikolaus was forced to go it alone.
As soon as their tracers realized that all six devices were heading in different
directions they would probably examine each target, determine that it wasn’t Remy and Nikolaus, and then move on. No agent in his right mind would send a tracer to his intended destination. And that was why Remy had done it. Hopefully, Nikolaus
would catch on.
Where was Nikolaus anyway? Remy was definitely alone in the room. He
examined the bonds at his wrists as he lay on his stomach, and decided that if he got to the point that his shoulders hurt before Nikolaus returned he would wriggle out of them.
Remy had never met a rope, chain, handcuff, newfangled plastic zippy thing,
or silk scarf from which he couldn’t escape. That was one of his many special talents.
The Cajun Houdini, as it were.
“Speaking of special talents,” he murmured out loud against the bandana in
his mouth as he lifted his head with difficulty and looked over at Nikolaus’s laptop.
Did he have time before Nikolaus got back? After a split second of deliberation Remy decided that he did, and proceeded to neatly remove himself from Nikolaus’s knots and leap across the room to sit down at the laptop, never even removing the gag.
When Nikolaus came back with two cups of coffee and a box of Krispy
Kreme donuts Remy was once again lying face down on the bed with the knots
retightened as they had been. He was mentally cursing himself for getting the left one
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too tight. His fucking fingers were going numb and there were sure to be bruises on his wrist.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” he mumbled into the bedspread through the
gag.
Nikolaus wandered over and set his goodies down carefully onto the table
before he reached down and undid the bandana.
“I’m hot, thirsty, and– ooh, are those donuts?” Remy asked as he craned his
neck to see the table beside him.
Nikolaus grinned and nodded as he tapped the box. He then wandered over
to throw the gag onto the chair in the corner and remove his coat.
“A little help?” Remy requested as he tapped his fingers against the mattress
impatiently. Those donuts smelled too good to pass up.
XX.
“ONE more heavy sigh and I might start to get the wrong idea,” Carl mumbled from
Thiago’s side. Thiago hadn’t realized he had been sighing at all, and he glanced at Carl apologetically.
“Sorry. I just… I’m a bit worried.”
Carl rolled over and rose up onto his elbow, looking down at Thiago. Thiago
couldn’t see his face, but he assumed the other man was frowning.
“You didn’t expect to hear from them, did you?” Carl asked curiously.
“I suppose not. It’s just… mierda, no se.”
“Tell you who I’m worried about,” Carl said as he readjusted his position
carefully and rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up on both elbows now. “I’m thinking Shawn has probably killed our mad bomber in his sleep. That or they’ve both been blown up.”
Thiago grinned and snickered at the thought of the trials and tribulations
their two comrades were probably enduring.
“What else do you have on your mind?” Carl asked shrewdly.
“Am I that transparent?” Thiago asked sadly. “One more reason to get the
fuck out of this business then,” he said at Carl’s responding nod.
“Out?” Carl questioned in surprise.
“Yeah. They offered you retirement too, right?” Thiago questioned. Carl
nodded and made a sound of acknowledgement, and Thiago continued talking as his
gaze focused on the tense muscle of Carl’s bicep. “Well, I took it. So did Shawn, from what Remy said.”
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“So did Brandt,” Carl offered as he looked at Thiago intently. Thiago’s eyes
shot to Carl’s in surprise, but Carl was smiling softly. “As did Nikolaus… as did I.
It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Thi. When you have a chance to get out, no strings attached, then you fucking take it.”
“Remy didn’t take it,” Thiago argued as his fingers reached to brush over the
line of muscle he had fixated upon.
“Remy’s still young. And a bit unusual.”
“As is Brandt,” Thiago argued with a smile.
“Brandt may be easily distracted, but he’s not stupid. Nor is he mad. Not
entirely. But Remy?” Carl mused. “I have my doubts as to how appropriate it would be to reinsert him into society.”
“Yeah,” Thiago murmured with a touch of melancholy. As his thoughts
turned more and more morose, his hand traveled freely over the parts of Carl that he could easily reach; rubbing gently over the defined muscles of his chest before
trailing down through the light fuzz to dip below the waistband of Carl’s briefs and then travel slowly back up. “What’s your take on the Archer?” Thiago finally asked quietly.
“That’s a difficult question to answer while your hand is doing that,” Carl
purred contentedly before raising his head to stare at Thiago intently. Thiago grinned mischievously and cocked his eyebrow, waiting for a response. “I don’t know, to be honest,” Carl finally said as he shifted happily and placed his body over Thiago’s in a gesture that was no longer unusual. “Part of me wonders what his agenda is,” Carl said as he brushed Thiago’s hair away from his eyes. “Why is he doing it? What
profit can come from taking out other agents? Another part wonders if he’s really the man behind the action, or if he’s just the spearhead of a bigger organization. We don’t even really know if the Archer is one man. He could be a group. Or it. It could be a group.”
Thiago blinked up at Carl as his eyes unfocused slightly. Carl was right.
There were so many questions they just didn’t have the answers to.
“And the more I think on it the more I’m sure it wasn’t the Archer who came
after us,” Carl continued. “I understand striking first, but if you strike you better damn well make sure you hit, y’know? I can’t imagine that a man as shrewd as the Archer supposedly is would miss so badly. That bomb was in a place that was certain not to kill any of us unless we were in the toilet. What do you think about the whole thing?”
Carl asked him as they stared at one another in the half-light.
Thiago blinked again. What should he say to this? The truth was Thiago had
no idea what he should think. He had no idea who’d set the bomb. He had no idea
whether the Organization had turned on them. He had no idea what the six of them
should do regarding the Archer. He was more clueless now than he’d been since his very first day on the job, and the fe
eling was frustrating as hell. He was confused as fuck and he knew that Carl could tell as they gazed blankly at one another.
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“I… I’m not sure,” he admitted finally.
“If we find the Archer, what do you plan to do?” Carl asked hesitantly.
Alarm bells began to sound softly in Thiago’s mind. “Would you kill him and hope
that the Organization keeps their deal, or would you want to join him like Remy
does?”
The alarm bells were sounding so loudly now that Thiago could almost feel
his nose vibrating. His nose itched, actually. He leaned upward and rubbed the end of it on the stubble of Carl’s cheek, and felt the other man smile and laugh slightly.
“Is that another ‘I don’t know?’” Carl asked in amusement as he nuzzled
against Thiago’s face.
“Sí. I mean…” Thiago let his head fall back against the pillow. “Right now?
We have nothing to go on. En bolas. But so far as I can see, if we can make the Archer believe that we’re on his side, he poses less danger than the Organization. If they think we’ve turned, they’ll do anything in their power to be rid of us.”
Carl was nodding solemnly.
“You make good sense there, Zed,” he said with an easy smile. Thiago
snorted. Where the nickname had come from, he didn’t know. It was something akin
to Carl calling Brandt Wally. Thiago assumed it was a cultural thing.
“Why don’t you quit talking and give my poor, old, troubled mind something
else to ponder?” Thiago challenged as he shifted under Carl’s body. “Is that a gun in your briefs?” he asked incredulously. Carl grinned broadly.
“Yeah. Sorry ’bout that,” he said as Thiago reached into his briefs and
retrieved the little handgun. “Habit.”
“You know, I’ve never actually been able to use that line,” Thiago mused to
himself as he examined the gun. Carl took it gently from Thiago’s hand and laid it on the table beside the bed.
“You would do better to play with the other one,” Carl suggested cheekily.
“I can’t believe you sleep with a gun in your briefs,” Thiago responded,