by Lynn Stark
There were security cameras at either end of the alley behind the building, but both had been tampered with. Probably, he thought with disgust, using the same ladder the kidnapper had climbed to the roof with.
“They’ll find him, darling. Someone has to have seen something. They just might not realize it yet. You know how news travels in Silver.” Deacon took an oatmeal cookie off the plate she held out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear something very soon.”
“I hope so. I just hope Neville isn’t hurt.”
The sight of the blood had taken the entire thing to another level, and Deacon was terrified to think about what it could mean. He wouldn’t go there yet. Hope was still thriving inside of him.
Where was his love? And was he afraid? Deacon shook his head. Of course Neville was afraid.
Chapter Ten
Neville was terrified. He glared at Doug through the slits between his swollen eyelids. The bastard had gotten into his apartment somehow, surprising Neville as he prepared supper. One minute he had been happily stirring pineapple chunks around in the sauce to be served over the pork chops he would broil, the next he had been fighting off the bigger man for all he was worth. He had even managed to punch Doug in the nose. Blood had spewed, giving him a sense of pleasure and satisfaction. That only lasted a few seconds. Doug had finally caught hold of him as he ran toward the door, hoping to get out and down the stairs.
It was then that Doug had voiced his threat. “We’re going downstairs now. If you make one sound, I’ll break your fucking neck, and my friends will put a bullet through that asshole boyfriend of yours.”
Although he was fearful for his own safety, Neville worried more about Deacon. He would do anything to protect the man he loved, even if it meant going along with Doug—for the moment. As they went down the stairs, Neville had heard Marley in her office with her youngest children. If she had been alone, he might have yelled for help. He couldn’t, however, risk the children.
Doug had kept a painful grip on Neville’s arm as he guided him out of the building and along the side street, until they came to a crappy, rusted-out pickup truck. “Remember, don’t do anything stupid. You don’t want your boyfriend to get a bullet.”
Now they were in a rundown house about five miles outside of town. Neville and Deacon had driven around the area a lot, as he got to know his new home, but he didn’t remember seeing this particular house. It was about a hundred feet off the road, and there were a few trees between, which probably explained why he hadn’t noticed it.
“What the fuck are you doing this for?” Neville asked for about the hundredth time. So far, Doug hadn’t given him any explanation. “This can’t possibly be about me asking you to turn down your music.”
It was difficult to talk with a swollen lip and what felt like loose teeth, but he had to get the questions out. If he was going to die, he wanted to know why. He didn’t see a way out of this. If Doug let him go, he would be signing his own arrest warrant by doing so.
“Smart boy. This is about my brothers, Ted and Steve.”
It hurt, but Neville frowned. Blood trickled down his face and into his eye. “The drug dealers? How can they be your brothers? You’re in a program meant to help people, not be part of the problem. You’re supposed to be trying to straighten your life out. Are you saying that your being a part of it is all a scam?” He was trying to make sense of what Doug was telling him.
Doug laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. When he spoke, however, he seemed very pleased with himself. “Well, as it happens, we’re only half-brothers. We have different last names. Hell, we didn’t even share the same address the last few years. You see, I’m the oldest and had moved out before I was sixteen. They were still kids. By the time they left home, I’d established quite an enterprise. They joined the family business.”
“Selling drugs?”
“Yes. You really are too clever.”
“And you’re just an asshole. You helped screw up their lives. Now, finish the story.”
A fist to the side of the head made Neville’s ears ring. If he managed to get out of this situation, he would probably be left with a few issues. It wouldn’t matter, as long as both he and Deacon were alive.
“As I was saying,” Doug continued. Neville could just make out his dark silhouette as Doug walked toward the window to look out, he assumed. “Steve and Ted joined me. They were the front men. They took orders from me and saw to it that the product was distributed and payments were made. You might say I was the brains and they were the muscle.”
“How did you get here?”
“I’d heard a lot about the programs to help out losers. It didn’t take much to learn that Silver was where the headquarters was.” Doug laughed as he walked back in Neville’s direction. “It seemed to be the right place for us. After all, we wanted a second chance, too.”
“You and your brothers are the only losers I know of in Silver.”
A kick to the leg made the bone snap. Neville had never felt such intense pain in his life. He screamed as he doubled over in the chair, his wrists straining against the ropes where they were tied behind him. The edges of the chair bit into his arms, but he barely noticed. He breathed through waves of nausea, spittle and blood spraying from his mouth. He thought there could be some snot, too. Oh, when he got the chance, he was going to make Doug eat his own balls.
“No one had any idea that I was a major dealer in Philly. I was a car detailer with a drug problem. When I wanted to get my life cleaned up, I applied with the foundation providing people with second chances at life. Like you, I chose to come here. By the time I arrived, my brothers had a good thing going. It’s not that there are a lot of drug users in Silver, but it’s a great place to manufacture our product. Lots of isolated places to work.”
Neville had to admit, if only to himself, that Doug’s plan had been a good one. The man should have applied himself to an honest life. He probably would have been equally successful.
When Doug untied Neville and yanked him up from the chair, Neville puked on him as pain surged through his body. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.
When Neville came to, he didn’t know where the hell he was. He definitely wasn’t in the house where he’d spent such a wonderful time with Doug. It was too cold, and whatever was under him smelled like dust and mold. It was also prickly. He couldn’t see, but he could listen. There were voices, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
Damn, but he wished he could see. Not that it would do any good. He wouldn’t have been able to walk to try to make an escape, but seeing would be nice.
The voices got closer. Neville forced his body to relax and to keep his breathing as even as possible. “You want us to do what?” The question was shouted, as was the next one. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy. I want that motherfucker dead.”
“But this asswipe will be alive and able to identify you.”
Neville recognized two of the voices. One was Doug’s, and the other belonged to the drug dealer Deacon had arrested. This was getting better and better.
“I’m going to juice him up. The only thing he’ll remember, if he lives, is flying, polka-dotted monkeys.”
All three men laughed then. Cold, hard fear shot through Neville. He didn’t want any drugs in his body. Maybe he was looking at everything all screwy at the moment, due to the situation he was in, but having drugs introduced into his bloodstream would be like reliving a nightmare.
It was one nightmare on top of another, and it was only getting worse, when Doug told his brothers, “I want you guys ready. As soon as that deputy gets to the hospital, you put a bullet in him.”
Doug really was the brains, Neville thought dismally. He was putting his brothers out there once more, and they didn’t seem to question his intentions or motives. “What if he’s not alone?”
“No big deal. Kill them all and get the hell out of there. Toss the gun as you
head north. There are plenty of places it’ll never be found. Meet me in Seattle in two weeks, as planned. Now get the fuck out of here before I just decide to burn down this barn with him in it.”
Neville didn’t like that plan at all. He’d rather have drugs running through his body. At least he would have a chance then, if only a slightly better one. That’s all he needed. Neville remained limp and silent as he was lifted and carried outside. The icy air hit him, making him wish for a coat. Then he was dumped in the back of a car that smelled like someone had kept goats in it. It took all his control not to cry out when his arm was pulled away from his body. A moment later he felt a needle being shoved none-too-gently through his skin.
I’m going to kill the motherfucker! Neville thought as his mind and his body separated, and he began a trip to a place he’d never wanted to visit again.
The waiting was killing Deacon. It had taken hours, but he had finally convinced his parents to go to bed. They were in the loft’s guest room. He hated to admit it, but it felt good to be alone for a little while. He knew they would probably pop back out after giving him time to himself.
Deacon had spoken to Tim and a few of the deputies several times. They hadn’t had any luck with their search. And despite his mother’s confidence that someone had seen something, no one had come forward with any information.
The longer Neville was missing, the greater Deacon’s fear became. While he didn’t want to give up hope, he knew Neville’s chances of being found alive were low now.
It was nearly midnight when Deacon’s phone rang. Tim’s name was on the screen. When he answered it, his friend’s voice was filled with urgency. “Deacon, Neville’s at the hospital. He was dumped a couple of blocks from there. Someone found him and took him to the emergency room.”
He was at the door before he realized he had moved. Pulling the door open, he stepped through. “Mom, Dad, Neville’s at the hospital. I’m heading over there!” Deacon shouted, slamming the apartment door after him.
Although he knew his parents were worried about Neville, Deacon didn’t feel he could wait for them. All he could think about was getting to the man he loved, praying as he ran to his truck that Neville wasn’t so seriously hurt that he would die.
The streets were empty as Deacon drove through town to the hospital. It wasn’t far, of course, but it seemed to take forever to get there. He parked the truck opposite the emergency room doors, but not in the near lane, and left his keys in it so it could be moved. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ran toward the automatic doors, where Tim waited on the other side. Getting to Neville was the only thing in his mind.
That was probably why it took a moment for him to realize he had been shot. It was like getting hit with a baseball bat wielded by a giant. The impact was to his side, the pain nearly impossible to comprehend. The second bullet hit him in the right shoulder as he crumpled toward the pavement. As he fell, Deacon was aware of shouting. Then there were faces above him as he lay on the ground. They were close, and the expressions on them were ones of fear and concern.
As things began to blur, Deacon noted that Tim needed a shave.
“Mr. Swift, if you don’t calm down, we will have to call your mother.”
It was a good threat. Lara Swift was a force to be reckoned with. Yet, it wasn’t enough to prevent him from continuing to attempt an escape. It didn’t hurt that he had convinced his parents to go get something to eat and rest.
Neville glared at the muscle-bound male nurse standing by his bedside. Although he felt as if he had been run over by a truck, he wanted to get out of bed so he could go see how Deacon was doing. He had awoken to discovering he was alive. That was a good thing. The bad thing was, when he had searched the faces of those around him, he hadn’t seen the one he wanted to see most. It was then that his mother had told him that Deacon had been shot and that he was still unconscious after hours in surgery.
Now he sniffled back tears as he thought of the incredible pain he felt about how close Deacon had come to dying and making Doug and his brothers very happy men. He hoped they had been caught, but hadn’t heard. As soon as he was conscious and clear-headed, he had told about his experience with Doug, and about the bad guy’s need to crow his brilliance to his victim. It was classic, but Neville hoped it had already brought him down.
“You know, I won’t always be helpless,” he told the nurse. “Watch your back.”
The guy smirked before he left the room. Neville counted to ten before he tossed back the blanket and moved his broken leg carefully over the edge of the bed. There wasn’t a place on his body that didn’t hurt like hell. There was still some swelling in his face. His eyelids were no longer so puffy he could only see through slits, but they weren’t back to normal yet.
He was grateful he was no longer attached to machines or bags of fluid. Strong painkillers were out of the question. He had refused them, as soon as he was conscious. There was no point in pushing that particular button again. The pain was unpleasant, but nothing he couldn’t handle with the help of some over-the-counter painkillers.
Neville’s parents had told him that Deacon was in the room beside his. They didn’t have much new information for him. There wasn’t much to tell. He was holding his own, and he was still unconscious. So far, Deacon’s parents had taken turns coming in to give him updates after Deacon was out of surgery, but it had been a while since they had been in and he was itching for some news.
Unfortunately, because they weren’t married, Neville couldn’t be given any of Deacon’s medical information by the personnel. Once they were out of the hospital, and Deacon was willing, they needed to change that.
He was about halfway across the room when the door swung open and the male nurse reappeared. Neville’s face lit up like a road flare. Then his gaze dropped to the wheelchair the man was pushing.
“I thought this would make things easier.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
When the chair was moved around so he could get into it, he sat down and waited as the nurse helped him with the foot plates. His fingers wrapped around the armrests as he was wheeled out of his room and to the next one down the hallway.
Neville’s breath caught in his throat when he saw his beautiful man unconscious and pale in the bed, machines and bags of fluids hooked up to him. The nurse pushed him close. As he stared he shivered. He didn’t need any medical training to know that Deacon wasn’t doing well. Neville reached out to gently wrap his fingers around Deacon’s. Tipping his head forward, he whispered a heartfelt prayer.
Something warm was placed over Neville’s shoulders. It was a blanket, and he lifted his head to smile at the nurse that had brought it. Then he saw that Deacon’s parents, Anita and Mortimer West, were sitting in chairs by the window. He hadn’t noticed them as he was being wheeled into the room.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
Mortimer stood and smiled at Neville. “That’s perfectly understandable, son. You’re worried about Deacon. I believe he’s going to be fine, and you should, too. He’s strong, and he has plenty to live for. Then there’s the fact that he’s as stubborn as a mule.”
It was something Neville would like to believe. He looked back at Deacon. He stared hard, as if doing so would somehow wake up the man he loved. The fact that it wouldn’t made Neville’s heart ache. His fear was increasing. Losing Deacon wasn’t a possibility he wanted to face. He would listen to Deacon’s parents and hold tight to the belief that Deacon would recover.
The next hour passed too quickly for him. A doctor and two nurses came in to check on Deacon. When they did so, Neville was forced to leave. His own doctor was waiting in the corridor. He gave Neville a gentle, understanding smile and took over pushing Neville’s chair to his room.
“How are you feeling, Neville?” the doctor asked as he helped Neville back into bed.
“A little pain here and there.” It wasn’t quite the truth. His leg was hurting like a bitch, making him wish
he should shove it, sci-fi metalwork and all, up Doug’s ass. “When can I get released?”
A light was flashed over his eyes. “If everything looks good tomorrow, you can be released. How’s that?”
“Good. Good. I can work with that. Thank you.”
The doctor smiled. “Don’t thank me until tomorrow. Is there anything else you want to know?”
“What I want to know, you can’t tell me.”
The man’s expression was filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I’d like to make an exception, but I can’t.”
“I’m marrying that man as soon as I can. That way you guys can tell me what I need to know, if there’s ever a next time. If he has so much as a hangnail, I’ll get the gruesome details.”
“That’s a good plan. Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding. Now, why don’t you get some rest before you go back to visit Deacon?”
It was a good suggestion, but not something he wanted to do. As he nodded and covered up, the nurse came in with two more of the heated blankets. Neville moaned as the heat enveloped him. It wasn’t long before he became drowsy and decided to take a nap. That way he could be refreshed when he saw Deacon again. He was almost asleep when the door opened and his parents came in. Neville lifted a hand to give them a little wave. Then he was closing his eyes and falling into sleep.
Warm lips pressed against his forehead, giving him a sense of peace. It was comforting to know his mother was there to look over him, until Deacon could do so again.
Neville fell asleep to dream about the way Deacon made love to him and his mother’s peanut butter cookies.
Chapter Eleven
In no rush to open his eyes, Deacon lay there and took in the sounds and smells around him. He knew at once he wasn’t in his bed at home. As his mind cleared, memories began to filter back in. The jerk of alarm went through his body, and his eyes flew open, as he felt the intense need to get to Neville.