by BA Tortuga
“You walk. You just walk, straight through and don’t look back. I’ll take care of it.”
“I just get Neil.”
“Yes. If they try to stop you….” MJ looked at him, the scarred face hideous and blank.
“I shoot them.”
“Yes, Rick. You shoot to kill. Do you have the keys?”
That was another thing he didn’t want to know about. He had keys to a little Corolla. Sonny’d given them to him.
“I have them. I know where the car is. I’ll take Neil and go.”
“Good man. He’d better be ready. Go now, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Fuck you, Boomer.” He headed for the door, hands in the too-big lab coat pockets.
Walk.
Walk straight through.
Don’t look back.
Coming, Neil.
I’m coming.
Chapter Forty-Nine
NEIL TRIED to shift, a tiny motion that sent stabbing agony through every muscle. He couldn’t see, could barely breathe, but for the first time in days, he could hear.
Psychically. There was no feedback noise, no muddy mess in his head. He could hear Padraic, as loud as if he stood right there. His poor love was worried. Scared, even.
Coming. Coming, Neil. I’m coming. I love you. I’m…. Oh God. Please don’t shoot me. Neil. Where are you?
Oh, sweet heaven. Padraic was here.
Neil thought he might be hallucinating, but that voice… he knew that voice. There was no way it could be that close and be a dream, so he focused all his energy on helping Paddy find the right path.
Yes. Yes. Neil. Padraic was coming. Paddy had keys, a gun, money. Paddy was coming for him.
His hands clenched and unclenched, blood running from stretched, broken skin. The straps around his wrists creaked. Yes. He tensed and released every muscle he still could. I’m ready, love. Ready.
Paddy moved fast; he could feel his lover, the thoughts getting wilder and louder.
Focus, love. Focus. I know you can.
He knew Paddy could be calm in the moment when he had to. And he rather had to. Neil felt Padraic’s agreement, felt as those lovely, bubbly thoughts turned hard, icy. Almost as if someone flipped a switch he didn’t know Paddy had.
Three shots popped off outside in quick succession; then the doorknob turned.
Neil bit his lip, feeling how swollen it was, feeling it split once more. He didn’t make the sound that tried to burst from him, though. He stayed silent, trying to will it to be Paddy. Not someone else.
The door swung open, Paddy running in, eyes and face hard. “Neil.”
A knife came out, flashing as Padraic cut the leather straps holding him.
His mouth opened, but his tongue was huge, heavy, so he said it in his head. Hurry.
“No matter what, we’re getting you out.” Paddy met his eyes. “I have a shot for you. It’ll give you a boost. Do you want it?”
“Yes.” Yes. He could pay for burning past his reserves later. Now they just needed to get out.
Paddy nodded, and Manning’s head popped around the door. “Rick. Hurry. Come on, kid.”
Manning. They were going to take Manning. Neil held out a hand when Paddy reached for him, offering up a vein.
“I don’t care.” Paddy slipped the needle into his arm, plunged the drug in.
His left eye opened enough for him to see, and he nodded, trying to keep from tearing up. “All right, then. Up and out, hmm?”
“Yes.” Paddy wrapped one arm around his waist and tugged, hard. He stumbled up onto his feet, screaming, his entire body on fire.
“Sonny! Help me!”
Ah, the very large redneck. Neil slipped on something slick, something he didn’t want to contemplate, and big hands landed on his other arm.
“Time to go, Brit.”
“Come on. Come on. They’re coming.” Manning was glaring, fear pouring off the man in waves.
“I got it, Precious.” Sonny did, indeed, have “it.” In fact, he picked Neil up and flung him over one shoulder.
Padraic drew his gun, and Manning started laying down cover fire. “We’re out of time here. They’ve closed off the front.”
“I’m out. Plow the road for me, Precious.” Like a moving mountain, Sonny started forward, heading for the brightly lit hallway.
Every motion hurt, every step bounced him. He could see Padraic, watching their backs. Manning went flying past, gun popping off round after round, and he heard a high scream, the sound of bullets in flesh.
“Hurry. Hurry.” Paddy sounded panicked.
“I’m going to set a charge. Go around the corner.”
“No! We have to go up first, this is underground!”
“Rick, I’m not discussing this. Run.”
Paddy ran ahead, the pop-pop-pop telling him that his love knew how to shoot a gun now, knew what to point at and how to squeeze the trigger. Neil closed his working eye and gritted his teeth against the pain. His innocent love with thoughts of ice. Pure ice. It made him….
Neil, stop it. We have to get out. We have to….
Manning went streaking by, grabbing him off Sonny’s shoulders. “Run!”
He went flying through the air, his body catapulting past Manning when Sonny gave him one last shove. The sound of a door clanging shut made him blink, trying to see what was happening.
“Sonny!” Manning spun, running back toward the metal door. The sound of the explosion rocked the whole building.
Neil crawled, trying to get to Padraic, his hands slipping on cold tile.
“Neil.” Paddy grabbed him, hauled him up. “Please. I have a car. I have a way out. Please. Hurry.”
His brave love.
“I’m coming.” He was. The shot was working, and his legs were churning, actually starting to move. Rather like a riverboat wheel.
Love you. Love you. Hurry. Hurry. “How do we get out?”
There were stairs and…. There was a window.
A window.
Right up at the top.
“Window.” He pointed, or thought he did, his legs pushing toward that hole.
Paddy nodded, dragging him up the stairs.
They had to get out. Had to get out before Manning blew everything up. Everything. Just to get to Sonny.
They managed the top of the stairs, the moon right there, shining in. Padraic reached for the lock, slammed the window open and….
God no.
No.
A man was staring in, gun in hand, a hard face and vicious thoughts slamming into him.
Paddy, though…. Paddy grinned. “Cowboy. Help?”
“This your guy?” The hand not holding the gun grabbed him, and he flew through the window, just as if Sonny had thrown him again. Really, Manning’s friends were so strong.
“Hurry!” Paddy was beginning to panic.
“Shut up and drag, kid. To the car and don’t look back.” They got a shove, Neil clinging to Paddy like there was no tomorrow.
“He’s still in there.” Paddy grabbed his arm, pulled hard. “I have a car. I have a car and we’re going to run. I love you. I came.”
“Yes.” His lips moved, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He was running, wasn’t he? The world was moving fast.
Padraic pushed him into a car he’d never seen before. “We have to go. We have to hurry.”
“Drive, love.” Neil leaned back against the seat, his burst of energy starting to fade. “Sorry, Padraic. Sorry.”
He was so sorry. For everything.
“I came. I love you. You’re safe. No one will hurt you again.” The words were fierce.
“I believe you, sweet.” His heart was pounding, his head throbbing. “Love… you.”
“Love you. Do you think you can drink? I have water.”
“I don’t….” He didn’t know. Neil didn’t know anything.
“Here.” Paddy handed him a bottle, driving like a madman. “You don’t have to know. I’ll know for you.
I promise. I’ll know.”
Yes. Paddy would know. His love was so strong. For him. It made Neil want to scream.
“Shh. Drink. I’m going to make it better. I promise.”
He drank, trying to get the dry fibers of his throat and tongue to soak in the moisture, trying not to choke. He had to trust that Padraic knew what to do, where to go.
Neil simply had to trust. With Paddy, that was the easiest thing in the world to do.
Chapter Fifty
SONNY.
Sonny.
Sonny.
Fuck.
MJ banged his fists against the metal wall.
Okay. Okay. Okay.
What to do?
The sound of footsteps echoed behind him a half second before the sound of a pistol cocking cleared the last of the ringing out of his ears. The bore pressed just under his right ear. “Where’s the redneck?”
Cowboy. Thank God.
“Fuck you, asshole.” He slapped one hand against the metal door.
The gun pressed a little harder, easing around to the right, like Cowboy didn’t know he was left-handed. Good man. “Oh, now. We don’t have time for that. Hands behind your head, thumbs up.”
“We’ve got nothing but time. What are you, the hired help? Hell, I had to walk in here for you to catch me.” Did Rick and the Brit get out?
“I’m just the guy who caught the one who really matters.”
Score.
“Well, then, let’s get this show on the road.”
Cowboy patted him down, slipping a piece into his back pocket while making a show of pulling the one out of his ankle holster.
“Good boy. Now, move away from the door. Slow-like.”
He nodded, keeping his breath steady and even.
They were under the fucking ground, and they had his Sonny.
Fuck.
Cowboy, though. Cowboy knew what to do. They had discussed this. At length, and Cowboy was keeping to the script.
He could do this. He could. “Tell me, how much are they paying you for this? I hope it was worth it.”
“I never discuss money with a mark.” Cowboy sounded cold, cold, cold. Icy. It worked. Hell, at one time, MJ would have thought it was hot.
He laughed. “You mean I don’t even get to know what I’m worth? My last job, I took half a mil, bought my mom a new house.”
Tell me Mom’s okay.
“Trust me, I bring you in, I’m set for life. I could buy your mommy five houses all over the place. You’d never find her again.”
Good deal. “Oh, I don’t know. She’d think you were hot, but she’d miss her baby boy.” They walked through another set of doors, then another. Where the fuck was Sonny?
Cowboy chuckled. “I can make anyone forget someone like you. In there, Precious.” Cowboy prodded him toward a steel door, preparing him.
“I imagine there are a number of people who want to forget me. I wish you the best.” He tensed, focusing on what was coming up.
“Just don’t forget yourself and do something stupid, huh?” He knew he was the only one who would mistake that tone for fond and regretful, but it was. No, Cowboy. No regrets now.
“I’m a lot of shit, dude. Stupid isn’t on the list.”
The door swung open and there was Greg, half-melted and bowed, standing with a couple of goons and a handful of lab rats. There in the center of them, on his knees, was Sonny.
“Manning, how very nice to see you. It’s been so long.”
Chapter Fifty-One
SHIT, FUCK, goddamn it all to fucking hell.
Sonny figured he had to be the stupidest redneck in the history of Alabama crackers and Mississippi mudbugs, and there was a long history of stupid there.
At least the Brit and the boy had gotten out. They had to have, or they’d be coming through the door right now with MJ and Cowboy. Thank God for Cowboy. Oh, Sonny hated the man with a fiery passion, but he was MJ’s man, through and through.
He would help MJ kill everyone, including Sonny, and get the hell out.
Cowboy had better help MJ get out.
MJ quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve spent an enormous amount of money and personnel for one little surfer boy, Greg. You would have been better served hiring a plastic surgeon.”
He felt the ugly fuck growl, one scarred hand creaking.
“You have something we need, Manning. We don’t let sheep stray from the flock.”
“I did. Paula did. Rick did.”
The wet, sloppy sound of the man’s voice, of his breathing, made Sonny’s skin crawl. Come on, Precious. Get this over with. They needed to get this over with, once and for all. Sonny stared at MJ, willing him to understand. Willing him to see that Sonny damned well understood.
MJ met his eyes, calm as all get-out. “Sonny’s not your flock, asshole.”
“No, but he’s going to die. Like your father did, screaming.”
No. No, he wouldn’t put MJ through that. He gathered his strength, intent on making his move. If no one else did it, Cowboy would have to shoot him to maintain his cover.
“Haven’t you gotten new material yet? It’s been years.” MJ rolled his shoulders, pulling away from Cowboy a little. “You never did have the creativity to make it outside the grid.”
That hand on his shoulder clenched again, shook him a little. “Would you like to see my new material, Manning? Would you honestly? Pieter, please, do show our compatriot some of my new material.”
Somebody behind him moved, drew a curtain back, and when he looked….
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There was an old man—what used to be an old man—hanging in a glass case. There weren’t no eyes, no clothes, no fingers, no…. Well, there was a prick, just not where it was supposed to be. It was jammed down the old fucker’s throat.
“What do you think, Manning? I have the entire experience on tape. I have copies. I thought your mother might be quite interested in seeing how things ended up.”
Sonny blinked. He blinked again. Hell, it took him three blinks to realize that was MJ’s daddy hanging in there, and that? Well, that was a little too much.
“You rotten fucker.” Sonny didn’t say it and then move. He moved while he screamed it, not wanting to give the bastard time to react. Two guards went flying, and his head hit Greg right in the belly, and that burned skin on Greg’s hand felt like tinfoil you used on a barbeque.
He heard the shots ring out, saw two men go down, and then somebody came up from behind him, something hard knocking the wind out of him. His knees buckled, the room swam, and his fucking hands hit the floor, hard enough to sting.
Someone was right there, something sharp against his throat, a hand grabbing his balls.
“Let him go, asshole.” MJ’s voice was ice.
“I don’t think so, Manning.”
He heard the hammer cock. “I’ll blow your brains out.”
“Not before they infect him. How does a full dose of botulism sound?”
That hand squeezed again, trying to bust his balls, and he groaned.
“We can tear his testicles off, before or after, your choice.”
His eyes watered, but he blinked hard to clear them so he could find MJ’s bright blue stare. Kill me, Precious. Come on. Now. If Neil had been there, that psychic British head would be exploding with how loud Sonny was thinking it.
“You hurt him, and I’ll make you all pay.”
Greg’s chuckle was nasty, thick, the foulest fucking thing. “I’m going to hurt him, Manning. I’m going to destroy him and make you watch.”
The squeeze came again, and he couldn’t not grunt. MJ never looked at him, held that bastard’s eyes. “What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted, Manning. I want you to come home.”
MJ’s fingers tightened on the gun, knuckles white. “I can’t let you have him.”
Look at me. Come on, Precious, look at me one more time before you do it. Let me see your eyes
.
Just like MJ heard, those blue eyes met his, dead serious. “Sorry, Sunshine.”
He nodded, not closing his eyes a bit as the gun moved, MJ putting the muzzle to his own temple. “You give him to the merc. Now. You let him walk, or you lose.”
His jaw dropped so hard he thought it might break, and Sonny bucked, forgetting the knife at his privates, struggling like a madman against the syringe at his throat. “No. No, it doesn’t work that way. No!”
“I mean it, Greg. You give him to the merc. Now. Or all you get to take to your boss is my brains spattered on the floor.”
“Sure. Jim, would you mind terribly escorting Manning’s friend upstairs?”
“Got it.” Giving MJ a wide berth, face carefully blank, Cowboy came to him and screwed the muzzle of a gun into his temple. “Out, redneck.”
MJ’s eyes never shifted from the burned fucker. “Go on, Sonny. It’s all done now.”
“No, Manning, for you it’s only just beginning.”
His muscles tightened, and Sonny sucked in a quick breath, ready to tear everyone limb from limb, including that goddamned fucking traitor, Cowboy. That was as far as he got, though. He heard a muttered, “Oh, fuck this shit,” and felt a prick in his neck, sharp and cold and hard.
The drug started to work in the blink of an eye. Pretty fucking ironic, really, because it had to have come from his own stash.
Cowboy started backing him out, and the last goddamn thing he saw before the world went black was MJ putting his pistol on the table with a click that was so fucking loud it echoed.
Chapter Fifty-Two
HE DROVE.
Paddy kept going and going, heading down the highway as fast as he could. He had a name in his pocket. A Dr. Neumann outside of Vegas. That was where they were going so Neil could get some help.
Neil. His Neil was…. Torn. Bloody. It seemed like all the parts were there, but it was hard to tell. It was hard to see anything, and he’d just tossed a blanket over the poor beaten body.
“We’re going to get you help, Neil. I promise. We’re going to get you help.” Paddy kept talking, kept making noise.
Anything to keep from panicking and doing something stupid.