by BA Tortuga
He stepped into the water, face turned up into the spray.
“Padraic, please. I don’t want you thinking like that.” Neil sounded underwater, which made sense.
He was so tired. So very tired. “I need another of the red pills.”
“You need sleep, love. They’re coming. You need to be rested.”
He couldn’t sleep. He had to make sure no one hurt Neil. That MJ didn’t hurt Neil.
He thought, maybe, that he wasn’t sane anymore. He thought he’d lost his mind and that you weren’t supposed to know, if you had.
Neil chuckled, stepping into the spray with him. “You’ve cracked it, maybe. Not lost it.”
“No? You promise? Are you going to go back to France, when—” I die. “—this is all over?”
“We are.” Neil ignored the little thought hiccup, beginning to soap Paddy’s back.
“You’ll ride your bicycle.” He fought the urge to cry again, not wanting Boomer to yell at him.
“Mmm. And you’ll go buy smelly cheese and tea.”
“Books.” Boomer hated him so much. Every part of him, and he knew he was a silly man, but he hadn’t been evil.
“Oh, yes. I shall read to you.” Neil hugged him, the water washing them clean.
He took one deep breath, his chest feeling like it could crack open. “I hate it here.”
“I know.” Neil stroked his back, up and down, wet fingers tracing his spine. “I don’t love it. We’ll soon be done.”
There was a note in Neil’s voice, one that had nothing to do with Boomer, one of complete determination.
“We will.” He was going to miss Neil so bad.
Neil turned his face up and kissed him, a little desperate. A lot hard.
His eyes went wide, the swirl of thoughts going fast-fast for a breathless second, then shattering.
Neil.
His Neil. Not Boomer. There was no one there but him and his lover and the water pouring down. Thank God.
He kissed Neil back, tongue searching for that flavor that he knew, that he needed.
Neil moaned into his mouth, body starting to rock against his. So fast. They still got to each other so fast.
Neil. Neil. Help me. Need you.
He wouldn’t say it, but he could think it.
Yes. Neil’s kiss consumed him, made it all better, even if it was an illusion. He could feel Neil holding on.
The water was hot, beating on him, and it still wasn’t as hot as his Neil.
Those beautiful, lean hands slid down to push up under his butt, Neil pulling him so close it was like they were sharing skin.
Love you.
He did. He loved more than he was sorry.
Good. The word resounded in his head and deep down in his body. Neil wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
He nodded, fingers beginning to explore Neil’s face, body.
He could, maybe, do this.
Whatever happened, Neil was going to be there with him, just like he was right now. Unless Neil was asleep.
His mind skittered away from that thought, though. He didn’t want to think about that.
Neil’s fingers touched his balls from behind then, and everything went away again. His balls drew up, his cock starting to ache.
“Neil. Please. I need to feel good.”
He needed to believe.
I’ve got you. That was what he heard, and Neil did have him, sliding down to kneel on the shower floor. Neil’s lips closed around his cock, warm and strong.
“Neil. Neil.” Oh fuck. Fuck. Hot. Fuck. Neil. Hot.
Neil hummed, tongue working him, licking up and down the underside.
He stared down, his eyes feeling like they were burning.
The pale hair was plastered against Neil’s skull, giving his lover a feral look. It was amazing.
Beautiful.
His Neil was beautiful.
Neil sucked harder, one hand coming up to press against Paddy’s balls. Then those long fingers grabbed and tugged a tiny bit.
Oh.
Oh.
He nodded, lips open as he sucked in air.
He almost sucked in a mouthful of water too, which would be unsexy. Good thing he managed not to, even when Neil swallowed him all the way in.
He made this awful sound—a grunt, a groan, a laugh, all smooshed together.
Neil didn’t mind. Neil thought his laughter was the best thing on earth. Paddy knew it like he knew the back of his hand.
It took very little for him to come, to pour himself out between Neil’s lips.
Neil took everything he had to offer, licking him clean before turning to face the water, letting it run down over them.
His knees threatened to buckle, exhaustion slamming into him so hard his tongue felt swollen. “Need to. The red pills.”
“I know what you need, love.” Neil caught him before he slid to the floor, moving up to turn the water off.
“They’re in the… in a bag somewhere.” He blinked, sweet and slow.
“Mmm-hmm. Rest here on the bed while I find them.” Neil danced him out to the bed and lowered him down.
“Wow.” That was fast. Neil, like, teleported them….
He settled on the bed, trying to watch a naked Neil rummage. His eyelids were so heavy.
“If you don’t hurry….” The room started to spin.
“I’m coming.” Neil was pushing at him. Not physically.
He blinked, the pillow so soft. “Coming. Love.”
“Yes. I love you, sweet.”
Sweet. Paddy looked at his fingers. He had eight or nine now on that hand.
Maybe he should just close his eyes. That was what Neil thought he ought to do.
Close his eyes.
Rest.
Rest.
Re….
NEIL WATCHED Padraic sleep for some time. Poor sweet. He was… broken somehow.
Just like all of them.
Neil sighed, thinking of the South of France for Paddy, thinking of waves crashing on the sand, rhythmic and soothing.
Once he felt Padraic settle into the deepest of sleep patterns, he went to check on Manning’s mother, Nan. There had been a tiny spike of energy from her earlier, something dissonant and strange.
He’d been a little busy and hadn’t paid it too much attention.
He knew before he opened the bedroom door that he didn’t need to knock. There was nothing in there, no spark.
No life.
Shite.
The open pill bottle spoke volumes about what had happened. At least it had been peaceful, he supposed.
It was time for Paddy and him to leave, he guessed. Pack the supplies downstairs, and head into the city proper and spend some time at the slots before the assassins came to retrieve them.
The cowboy would find them, no matter where they went. He pondered calling someone to deal with Nan, but instead he slipped out of her room and closed the door. She looked like she was sleeping.
He headed back to watch his sweet Paddy sleep. One good rest. His Padraic deserved that.
Then they would pack and go and do what they had to do to end it. They had to get this over with.
They had to finish this.
Now.
“IT’S TIME to go.” MJ wasn’t interested in talking.
He wasn’t interested in talking, touching, thinking.
He was interested in complete and total annihilation. Period.
Nothing else would do it.
Make those bastards pay for Paula, for the cage, for his folks.
No thinking.
None.
“I know, Precious.” To his credit, Sonny wasn’t all over him or anything. The man had gotten the boat ready, had arranged for transport once they got to Houston.
He nodded and slipped his Glock into his waist holster.
He had another at his ankle and one up high, near his thigh. He didn’t need them here, really, but he didn’t care. He wanted the cold steel against his skin.
&
nbsp; Sonny had quietly run through a weapons check too, and was standing nearby, watching him. “Cowboy knows where to meet us?”
“Yep.” Gather Rick and the Brit, meet them in Houston, and then they were back to the Sonora desert to create havoc.
“Let’s get it on, then.” Sonny grabbed a duffel and headed to the boat, not giving the cabin a backward glance. The set of those impossibly broad shoulders said it all, though.
Tense.
MJ thought he probably should give a shit, tell Sonny it was cool, but he didn’t and it wasn’t, so he went with not bothering.
They had three days to Houston or Galveston or wherever Sonny decided to put in so they could avoid customs and immigration and shit.
He headed to the deck to pull ropes, the sensation of the engines under his feet familiar, comfortable. He needed to liquidate the store, the house, the Colonel’s pension, put the money somewhere safe.
Sonny had shifted all of his public money, moving it around so Greg couldn’t find it. He had more, though. Stuff he had to take care of.
Somewhere, Sonny still had a moonshine still. The partner hadn’t survived to take it over.
Someday, MJ’d ask Sonny whether or not he regretted not just letting the guy die quick, with a bullet to the brain.
Or not.
They were away from the dock and on their way, Sonny not saying a word.
He watched for a minute, counting the seconds while his eyes searched the shore. He’d fallen in love here, lost his mom here—he wanted to remember every bit of it.
He could almost hear the clock ticking in his head. And he could definitely hear Sonny wondering what to do next. His redneck was not subtle. It didn’t take a mind reader.
Even if they did have one.
MJ rubbed his temples, took a deep breath as soon as they moved away from land, into the deep water.
“You okay, Precious?”
“No.”
“Well, okay.” Sonny sighed, digging in the duffel he’d stored in the wheelhouse and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“Those are bad for you.”
He wasn’t losing Sonny.
“Yeah? You think?” Sonny pulled one out of the pack.
“Yes. Put the fucking things away.”
“Make me.” Sonny was about to light it.
His hand shot out, grabbing the cigarette and crushing it with one move.
Those dark eyes flashed to his, Sonny almost smiling. “That’s more like it.”
“I don’t like the fucking cigarettes.”
“I know. I do.” Sonny shrugged. “Like you more.”
“Good.” He grabbed Sonny’s head, kissed the man once, hard.
Sonny let him, not hanging on him but loving it all the same. “Need to know we’re good, even in work mode.”
“We’re good.” Sonny was the only good thing left.
“Good. Was a little worried.” Sonny grinned, looking a little wild.
He touched Sonny’s mouth, winked. “No reason to worry. We’re living the easy life.”
“Retired. Just sailing.” Sonny licked the tips of his fingers. “Salty.”
“That’s right. Just sailing.” With enough explosives to blow the city of Los Angeles.
“Mmm. Okay, so, we get to shore, we get the Brit and Red, we mount up. We need protocol.”
MJ nodded. “I have a basic area. We’ll head there, trust that my conditioning leads me in. Cowboy knows to shoot me if he has to. Rick and I will set the charges. We kill Greg, blow the joint.”
“No. No shooting you, no giving yourself up.” Sonny sounded damned sure.
“I’m going to slice him into little bits.”
“Of course you are.” That was said with absolute certainty as well.
“I want him to beg me to stop.” There was a tremor in his voice, and he stomped it out.
“Hush, Precious.” Sonny’s grin faded a bit, but it was still there. “He’ll die. Badly.”
He nodded. “I have to go work now. It’s not about you. We’re good. But I have to work or I’ll start destroying things and never stop.”
“I know. I just—” Sonny shrugged. “I needed to know.” Sonny caught his eye, staring hard. “I love you.”
“I know. I won’t let them get you.”
Sonny laughed out loud all of a sudden, the sound scattering the seagulls that inevitably followed a boat out of harbor. “Look at us. Domestic bliss. Let’s go get a fast car and kick some ass, Precious.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and headed to his laptop. The satellite hookup would let him get shit done, let him do some looking.
Sonny would bug him about the protocol shit, which he knew meant “how do we do this without getting killed.” But that was okay.
All he had to do was focus.
Chapter Seventeen
COWBOY WATCHED the ebb and flow of people carefully. Duncan had the Brit and the redhead. All Cowboy had to do was catch MJ and Sonny before they slipped past.
The traffic in Houston was still moving fast, the vacationers heading to the island, the kids heading into the city to party. Why Jay-Jay picked the weirdest, biggest convenience store on the Gulf Coast to meet, he wasn’t sure.
Maybe it was the weirdass allusions to giant rodent testicles. The man had the strangest sense of humor.
He had his eye on Duncan, who was buying fudge with the two hooligans. Duncan had asked if they should buy MJ a sympathy card.
A sympathy card.
For Jay-Jay.
“No, Doc,” was all Cowboy had said. Jay-Jay wouldn’t appreciate it. Now, Sonny? He seemed like a Hallmark kind of guy. Maybe it was the Deep South thing. All Southern boys knew how to do sympathy and dead things.
Duncan was holding up well enough, although he seemed to wig the Brit right out. Damn.
Cowboy, now, he thought Duncan was like a combination of a carnival ride and a really good meal. The best of all worlds.
“Hey, babe.” MJ slid up beside him, so fucking quick and quiet.
“Hey, you. Do I need to get the Doc to check out, or is the redneck in the potty?”
“Sonny’s hitting the head and getting supplies.” Those eyes were ice-cold, flat.
It was pretty hot, really. He loved working with Jay.
“You all set?”
“I am. You?”
“Yeah. I managed to scare up some tools of the trade. I’ll be good at long distances.” He knew that was where he’d be the most help. Providing cover. Making sure Jay-Jay died before he was taken again.
“Good deal. How are the others?”
“Tight. Red is ready to explode.”
“Excellent. That’s basically the plan. Imminent explosions.”
“Yeah, but I mean his heart or his veins or something.” Cowboy watched Neil herd the others to a checkout line. “The Brit is freaky.”
“He is.” MJ didn’t look at the man, like at all. “Don’t let him in. He’s more dangerous than the Doc.”
“No shit? He’s not one of the Program people, though, right?” That was weird, that Jay-Jay was wigged-out.
“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t matter. You be watchful.”
“I will. I got you. You know that, Jay-Jay.” Hell, Jay was his oldest living friend.
“I do.” MJ squeezed his hand. “What’re you driving?”
“A van.” He grinned at Jay’s look. “Don’t mock. It has room for the freaks and the gear. I got you and the redneck the spotter car. Something faster.”
“Oh, I didn’t mock. I didn’t. Sonny, on the other hand….”
“Yeah. He’ll sneer.”
“He will.” Jay-Jay grinned, and the smile was almost real.
Cowboy clapped him on the back, a brief man-hug of sorts. “We need to do this thing.”
“You know it.”
Sonny came out of the crowd, a box of Ding Dongs in one hand, Twinkies in the other.
There was a fried pie in there too, he’d bet. “Where’s the car?”<
br />
“Parked by the door. The van?”
“Around the side. We’ll keep up. No worries.”
“I’m not.” Jay-Jay nodded to the redneck. “Let’s get going. We’ll sleep on the road. We have two days moving, one day setup.”
“Got it.” Sonny gave Cowboy a bared-teeth grin. “Love the van. Saw it on the way in.”
He flipped the man off. He didn’t envy Sonny much, dealing with MJ twenty-four seven.
“Now, now. Watch it. Babe.” Sonny could make that word sound like a curse. It was amusing as hell.
“I need some Red Bulls too, Sunshine.”
“Nope.” Cowboy handed MJ a bag, hiding a grin. “I got something better.”
“You rock my world, babe.” MJ pocketed the bag, pointedly ignoring the puffed-up redneck.
“I need cigarettes.” Sonny turned on his heel, and Cowboy waited for the growl.
“No cigarettes.” Jay-Jay spun around and followed Sonny with a snarl.
Cowboy shook his head, grinning at Duncan when the Doc came up. Maybe they had time to work in a blowjob.
The Doc smiled at him, held up a huge box. “Fudge.”
“Oh, I like fudge. What all did you get?”
“Four pounds’ worth. One of each. Paddy wants some M&M’s.”
“Well, let’s get them and get going before Jay-Jay explodes.”
“You got it, Colby.” Duncan was almost bouncy.
The man was kind of sick that way. He liked the action.
It was vaguely hot, really.
Cowboy chanced a good Texas ass-kicking by goosing the man hard in the ass. Pretty.
Duncan squeaked, jumped, but kept on going.
They got M&M’s and Pop-Tarts in three flavors and juice. Then they were heading for the van. Sonny and Jay-Jay had found the lead car, were already idling.
Pretty vehicle—sky blue Thunderbird. Cowboy approved.
He looked around, made sure they had everyone. “Let’s rock and roll.”
He saw little Red nod—the man looked like death walking. “What happened to Boomer’s hair? It’s short.”
“It was the wrong color.” What else could he say? The whole shaving thing had been an adventure.
“Oh.” One Pop-Tart was opened, eaten.
Everyone had their drug, he guessed. Why not sugar?
THEY WERE going to use sound instead of traditional explosives.