The Archer

by Abigail Roux

  Nikolaus turned back around to turn the volume down a bit. The last thing he wanted was to wake the man and have to deal with his wrath alone.

  “He would have insisted on coming along, Wally,” Remy’s voice said

  regretfully. “He’s hurt and might have injured himself further.”

  “Had to be done,” Thiago murmured in agreement. Nikolaus imagined that

  Thiago was sitting in the back of the rental car with Brandt, probably trying to be invisible as he spoke.

  “You could have asked him if he needed them,” Brandt spat angrily.

  “He did need them,” Shawn said sternly. “It would have been nice to have

  his gun around today, but you saw, just like we did, that he was hurting. Did you really want him suffering anymore?” Shawn asked, his voice low and coaxing.

  “No,” Brandt mumbled like a sulking child.

  Nikolaus heard Remy snicker, and then a dull thump and a whoosh of

  rushing air. Nikolaus was pretty certain that one of them had just hit another, and he tried to contain his amusement as he listened in.

  “Bracque,” Remy muttered.

  “You’re not helping,” Shawn said through obviously gritted teeth.

  “What’d I do? Aiee! Turn left!”

  Nikolaus heard a distinct squealing of tires, accompanied by several

  muttered curses and what sounded like an unbuckled body thumping against the side of the car.

  “Remy!”

  “Mais, if you wouldn’t yell at me, it would not distract me!”

  “You haven’t seen yelling yet! Pay attention!”

  “You deal with your onions, Beignet.”

  “Remy, I swear to God,” Thiago growled angrily. “If you don’t get your

  head out of your ass, I’ll remove it for you.”

  Nikolaus smirked and tried not to snicker.

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  “Oh, you think that’s funny, do you, Niko?” Remy asked in an evil voice.

  Nikolaus didn’t answer. He actually couldn’t answer, considering that the

  radios weren’t two-ways. How did Remy know he was snickering when the radios

  didn’t go both ways? Was he that predictable?

  There was silence in the vehicle, and Nikolaus strained to hear anything. He

  thought he heard a slight snickering, and he leaned forward and turned the volume on the speakers higher, but no sound came. He leaned even closer and turned them up to the max. He could hear what sounded like whispers and a whooshing sound that could possibly have been wind moving over the earpieces as someone moved quickly.

  Nikolaus cocked his head and strained to listen.

  “HEY, GIZMO!” Remy and Brandt finally shouted as loudly as they could.

  The words echoed through the speakers and practically bounced off the walls of the flat. Carl shot bolt upright on the sofa. Nikolaus yipped in surprise and toppled over the back of his chair. From the floor, he could hear the four men snickering.

  “You think the comms are working, then?” Shawn asked through his

  laughter.

  “Bastards,” Nikolaus muttered as he got back to his feet.

  “Bastards,” Carl groaned as he eased back onto the sofa.

  XXXI.

  BRANDT was positioned in the plaza, the thinking being that in a pinch he could

  probably scare someone into immobility by simply looking at them. More so than

  Shawn or Thiago could, anyway.

  Shawn and Thiago were both on rooftops overlooking the drop spot, both

  with short-range sights and itchy trigger fingers, and Remy hovered near the area Gray had set up as a drop. Brandt tried to keep his eyes on Remy, but the man was just too good at being invisible. Brandt kept losing him in the crowd, and the crowd couldn’t exactly be described as bustling.

  Brandt had lost count of how many times and in how many ways Shawn had

  told Remy to be careful. It was really quite endearing. Brandt found himself regretting some of the harsh words he had said to Shawn several nights previous. There were

  feelings there that neither Brandt nor Shawn could deny, and though they’d

  successfully avoided each other, Brandt still felt the pull of the other man. Like a moth drawn to the flame.

  Brandt shook his head free of his thoughts when he realized that he had lost

  Remy again.

  “Hey, Dixie,” he said quietly, trying not to move his lips as he spoke. “Stand

  the fuck still.”

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  “I am standing still,” Remy responded in the same close-mouthed voice.

  “Where are you, Dixie?” Shawn asked in agitation. “I lost sight of you, too.”

  “I’m by the trash bin. I haven’t moved,” Remy said irritably.

  “Well don’t.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Good then.”

  “Good then.”

  “Will you two shut up and pay attention!”

  Brandt rolled his eyes and looked up at the building he knew Thiago sat atop

  and nodded approvingly. At least someone was still sane in this group.

  XXXII.

  REMY stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused and his vision somewhat blurred. It was easier to see on the periphery that way, and that was how he saw Gray slipping through the small crowd toward him even before Shawn gave the heads up.

  “Dixie, at your three,” Shawn’s gruff voice warned him.

  “I’ve got him,” Remy murmured. He stepped away from the bin he hovered

  next to and into Gray’s line of vision.

  Gray stutter stepped, but he kept moving forward, directly toward Remy.

  “Dixie?” he said urgently as he came up to Remy.

  “We need to talk, Boss,” Remy said in a low voice. He didn’t really have

  much left to hide from the others, but for some reason he was still nervous about Gray saying something that would set one of the others off. It was incredible how desperate Remy was to walk the straight and narrow now. As long as Shawn kept him by his

  side, he would do anything.

  “Talk?” Gray repeated incredulously.

  “Back at the flat,” Remy said with a nod.

  Gray’s face clouded over and Remy slid his hand into his pocket to grip his

  gun. “Oh, shit,” Gray said softly. “What did they do? Did they hurt you? Where are they?”

  Remy kept his eyes on Gray, careful not to give away the positions of his

  companions by looking at them. “It’s okay, Boss,” he said softly, trying to convey that these were Thiago’s orders, but coming off sounding more threatening than

  reassuring.

  “Fuck this, I’m taking you with me,” Gray said as he closed the distance

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  between them and gripped Remy’s arm.

  “Boss, calm down,” Remy warned sternly.

  “He gets closer and I’m taking him down, Dixie,” Shawn growled.

  “Gray, step back,” Remy said in alarm. He knew Shawn would shoot the

  other man first and then apologize later. Scratch that. He probably wouldn’t even apologize. Remy couldn’t have Gray’s death on his conscience. Shawn’s position was now at Remy’s ten, and if Gray took one more step, he would have a clear shot of

  Gray without the risk of hitting Remy.

  “Shawn, stand down,” Thiago’s voice ordered.

  “Gray, step back!” Remy shouted as he took a step back himself, trying to

  get in Shawn’s line of fire. Gray looked at him in shock and his hand traveled to his shoulder holster. Remy heard Shawn’s sharp exhalation. The one that always

  signified he was about to take a shot.

  You were always steadier just after letting out your breath.

  That w
as Remy’s last thought before he lunged forward and grabbed Gray,

  spinning the man around and pushing him away. The bullet sliced through Remy just before the report was heard. It echoed throughout the plaza, and people looked around in confusion. Some didn’t even stop what they were doing, but others recognized the sound for what it was and took cover. A woman with her daughter screamed as Remy

  fell into Gray, and Gray cursed imaginatively as he cradled Remy in his arms and

  tried to keep him on his feet.

  “Jesus,” Gray breathed as he tried to get his arms around Remy.

  Remy knew it was just a flesh wound, figuratively speaking. The bullet had

  passed through him cleanly, high in his shoulder. No organs, no arteries, no lungs or anything. But holy fuck, did it burn. Thank God Shawn wasn’t working with his usual ammo. Remy and Gray both would have been shot to shit. Not to mention the trash

  bin. And the bench. And the pavement. And the sewer system beneath the pavement.

  “Come on, Dixie, come on,” Gray repeated under his breath as he tried to

  pull Remy away and into the cover of the panicking crowd.

  “Son of a bitch!” Shawn yelled desperately. “I shot him!”

  Remy tried to speak, but he knew he was swiftly going into shock. He

  couldn’t get his tongue to work properly.

  “Man down, Brandt,” Thiago yelled in Remy’s ear. “Man down! Get in

  there! Help them!”

  “Boss,” Remy croaked as Gray dragged him toward the parking lot. He

  lurched forward slightly as his head swam, but Gray held him close and kept him

  upright. “Wally,” Remy gasped disjointedly.

  “I’m coming, Dixie!” Brandt responded, his voice low and serious and

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  rushed. He almost didn’t sound like Brandt. He sounded normal.

  “Dixie!” Shawn shouted desperately. Remy could tell the man was moving,

  probably running down the several flights of stairs he had to in order to get to the ground floor. “Dixie, where are you hit? Talk to me, lad!”

  Remy opened his mouth to speak, to reassure Shawn that yes, he had been

  shot. Not in the ass this time, but shot, nonetheless. And yes, he did plan on kicking Shawn in the nuts later, because really, there were only so many times your best

  friend and sometimes lover could shoot you before your world started looking sort of grim.

  Gray clapped a hand over Remy’s mouth. “They’re trying to kill you, Dixie,

  or don’t you get that yet?” Gray hissed into Remy’s ear. “Keep your mouth shut and they’ll leave you for dead.”

  “If you touch him, Kincaid, I’ll rip you apart!” Shawn shouted through

  Remy’s earpiece.

  Remy could hear all sorts of chatter coming through the lines. Shawn was

  yelling obscenities at Gray and begging Remy to speak. Thiago’s continuous

  undertone of curses and orders were being ignored by all parties. Brandt’s attempts to get through the panicking crowd to them. Remy could just imagine Nikolaus back at the flat going mad trying to figure out what was going on.

  Gray continued to whisper in Remy’s ear, encouraging him to move. “Come

  on, Dixie,” Gray urged. “We have to move. Jesus, I can’t believe the bastard shot you.”

  “Dixie! Gimme your six!” Brandt yelled. He was close enough that Remy

  could hear him yelling even without the earpiece.

  “Remy! Bloody hell, woman, move!” Shawn shouted, and Remy imagined

  him struggling his way through the crowd. And yet, despite his best efforts, Remy couldn’t say a word to either of them.

  “Remy! Gray!” Thiago said authoritatively. “Stand down, both of you!”

  Remy heard the order, but Gray was too busy trying to force his way through

  what had become a throng of panicked civilians to hear it. They were all trying to get out of the same archway, and Remy felt himself slowly sinking as the press of the crowd invaded his senses.

  “Dixie? Dixie? Just a bit further, brother, come on.”

  “Remy!” Shawn shouted desperately.

  Gray wrapped Remy’s arm around his neck and forced his way through the

  press of people.

  Remy caught sight of Brandt, making his way like a bulldozer through the

  crowd.

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  “Gray,” Remy said weakly. “Gray, arrête-toi. I need them,” he begged

  disjointedly.

  “Thiago! Take the shot!” Shawn yelled, his accent so deep with agitation that

  he was barely understandable. Remy felt like weeping for him. “Take it, dammit!”

  “We need him alive,” Thiago hissed. “I won’t risk hitting anyone else.”

  “Goddammit! Brandt! Take him down! Now!”

  “Gray,” Remy breathed again, this time in warning.

  Brandt was just feet away from them, and he reached his hand out through

  the crowd trying to grab at them. Remy raised his arm to grasp Brandt’s fingers

  desperately, even though the pain it caused him almost cost him his consciousness.

  He squeezed the fingers as Brandt tried to take hold of him, and he murmured into his comm, “Take care of them, Wally.”

  “No!” Shawn and Brandt both shouted as Gray finally ducked through the

  last clog of people and dragged Remy out and toward his car.

  XXXIII.

  “MIERDA,” Thiago breathed as he watched Gray and Remy slip through the

  entrance to the closed plaza through the scope of his rifle. He lowered it and stood at the edge of the roof, shaking with anger and frustration.

  That had certainly not gone as planned.

  “Fucking hell!” Shawn cried, his voice cracking as he tried to push through

  the crowd. Thiago could see him clearly from his viewpoint on the roof, and he could see Brandt, too. The big man was on his knees now, his head hanging and his

  shoulders sagging pitifully.

  Thiago could tell that Shawn wouldn’t be getting through in time. Remy’s

  comm was still on, and he could hear the car running and Gray talking to Remy,

  coaxing him to stay conscious.

  They were long gone. Son of a bitch.

  Shawn dropped to the ground beside Brandt as he finally made his way to

  him in the nearly empty plaza.

  “Are you hurt?” Thiago heard Shawn ask.

  “I had him, Shawn,” Brandt said brokenly. Thiago blinked in surprise and

  raised his rifle to look through the scope at the two men. That was the first time Thiago could remember hearing Brandt say someone’s actual name in a long time. “I had him… my hand,” Brandt murmured as he held his hand out and cupped it,

  looking at it then up at Shawn pitifully.

  Shawn ran his hand over Brandt’s hair slowly and pulled the big man’s head

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  to rest against his chest. He looked up to where he knew Thiago was and said, “Can you see them?”

  “They’re gone,” Thiago answered curtly.

  Gone. Thiago knew Gray well enough to know that he would disappear and

  never be heard from again. But if Remy were with him… Remy was more talented

  than any agent Thiago had ever come across. If Remy didn’t want to be found, they had no hope of ever tracking them. But Thiago didn’t think that was the case. Remy hadn’t gone of his own volition. He’d been wounded. Severely wounded, judging

  from the amount left of blood on the sidewalk. Thank God Shawn had aimed low,

  though.

  “I shot him,” Shawn said distantly. He held Brandt and rocked him.

  This was the perfect time for Thiago to drop a big fat ‘I told y
ou so,’ but

  Thiago didn’t have the heart to do it.

  “He stepped into it,” Shawn continued in a dazed voice. Thiago couldn’t be

  sure, but he thought he heard Brandt sniffling through his earpiece. “He saved that bastard’s life. If one hair on his head is harmed, I swear to God–”

  “Shawn, the only one here who’s ever hurt him, is you,” Thiago spat angrily

  as he gathered his equipment and hurried to leave the roof. The local authorities would be there soon. They had to be clear.

  Shawn didn’t respond, and Thiago could no longer see him as he hurried

  down the stairwell.

  “Both of you get your shit together and meet me in the parking lot,” Thiago

  said sternly. “He’s not dead yet, and Gray won’t hurt him. Listen to your comms!”

  “Beignet didn’t mean to shoot him,” Brandt said miserably as Thiago

  strained to hear Gray and Remy speaking. Soon they would be out of range.

  “If Beignet had listened, then no one would have got shot!” Thiago snapped.

  The plaza was completely deserted now, and Thiago skirted the edges until

  he was in the parking lot beside their rental. Shawn and Brandt came staggering up at almost the same time, and they all got into the car in an awkward silence. “Doesn’t anybody ever listen to a fucking order anymore?” Thiago mumbled angrily as he

  started up the car.

  Brandt sat beside him, his shoulders slumped miserably. Shawn sat in the

  back, desperately trying to hear through his earpiece.

  Thiago could hear Gray’s soft voice speaking, but then a sudden note of

  panic hit and Thiago’s heart raced. Gray rarely panicked.

  “Remy! No, brother! Fight it! Come back, Dixie, come on, son, Remy… oh,

  God no….” Gray’s voice faded and finally died out, and Thiago felt his chest

  constrict painfully.

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  “Oh, God,” Shawn moaned as he began rocking once more.

  Thiago didn’t know what to say. What did you say to a man who had just

  shot and possibly killed his lover? Brandt was silent, though several tears graced his bearded cheeks, and Thiago was surprised to find his own eyes damp.