Dreamspinner Press Years One & Two Greatest Hits

by J. M. Colail

  He lifted a hand and stroked Jack’s face, his fingers trembling slightly. Jack swallowed hard and gripped his fingers. We’re going to be okay, I know it. I know it because you won’t let it be any other way, and I trust you. I trust you enough to place my life in your hands without hesitation, and even if we both die, at least we’ll be together. He hoped D could see his thoughts because he didn’t dare speak.

  D squared his jaw and nodded briefly, then glanced at the door again. “On three,” he mouthed, and held up three fingers.

  Jack took a deep breath, and prepared himself for his first field test.

  MEGAN’S ARMS and legs were tied to the hard aluminum chair. Her head hung down, her shoulders were lax. The pain made it easier to fake helplessness, but she wouldn’t be faking it for too much longer at this rate.

  Petros was walking behind her. Just back and forth. Letting her wonder when he’d strike again. The blood was congealed on her face and her bare chest, each cut precise, deep enough to bleed and hurt but not deep enough to incapacitate.

  “So,” she rasped. “Are you ever going to ask me anything?”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  “This is just your happy fun time, then?”

  “Something like that.” He came around in front of her and casually struck her backhanded across the face. At least it looked casual. What it felt like was being hit with a two-by-four. Megan let her head rest against her shoulder as if she lacked the strength to lift it up again. “I’ve been asked to keep you occupied.”

  “We could just play cards or something,” she said, her voice coming out somewhat slurred through her bloodied mouth.

  “I am playing cards,” he said, and struck her again on the other cheek.

  D LOWERED the last finger, raised his gun and nodded to Jack, who nodded back. He burst through the stairwell door and whipped to the left, where the two men waiting to cart them away stood smoking, and now staring. They reacted quickly, much more quickly than he would have thought, but he was still able to get one of them right between the eyes with the butt of his gun. The man went down like a puppet with its strings cut. The other man turned toward him and raised his gun, but then Jack hurled himself forward and pistoned his shoulder into the man’s midsection. He grabbed Jack’s shoulders and brought up a knee into his stomach. Jack went down to one knee and D took advantage of the man’s distraction to swing his gun against the back of the man’s skull.

  Both men down, he hauled Jack to his feet. “C’mon,” he said. “Car.” Jack stumbled along, recovering himself as they ran. D already had his keys out and the doors unlocked when they got there; Jack flung himself into the passenger seat as D got into the driver’s and started up the engine. “You okay?” he barked as he backed out.

  Jack nodded. “Just need to catch my breath.”

  D spun the wheel, resisting the urge to stand on the gas pedal and fly out of there as fast as he could; such an escape would only attract attention, which he didn’t need. He watched the rearview mirror as he neared the garage’s exit; so far, no one was behind them.

  His relief didn’t last long.

  As soon as they hit the street outside, a car came flying out of a side street, heading unmistakably toward them. “Shit,” he muttered, and tromped on the pedal anyway, careening around the corner. “Hang on,” he grumbled.

  Jack was twisted around to look out the rear window. “How’d they know?”

  “Either one a them guys in the garage came to and sounded the alarm or one a the guys in the room did.” D spun the wheel and zipped through a red light and around another corner. “Does it fuckin’ matter? And getcher ass down!”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than three bullets came zinging through the rear window, shattering it, several more hitting the car’s body. “Jesus!” Jack yelled, curling into a ball with his hands over his head. “I thought they wanted us alive!”

  “They’re tryin’ ta stop the car.” D sped east, swerving in and out of honking cars and cutting people off left and right.

  “Oh shit… now there’s two,” Jack said, peering around the headrest and yanking his seat belt around him.

  D took an exit onto the highway, waiting until the last possible moment to swerve onto the ramp. He swore he felt the car tilt onto two wheels for a few hair-raising seconds. “We gotta switch,” he said.

  “Switch what?”

  “You gotta drive. Unless you think you can hit their tires with a bullet.”

  “Switch? Are you insane?”

  “Here. Put your foot here by the gas pedal.” D switched hands on the wheel and got his left foot on the gas pedal, moving his right leg into the passenger footwell.

  “Oh shit oh shit,” Jack kept repeating under his breath, but he did as D asked. He got his foot near the gas, reached over and grabbed the wheel with his left hand.

  “Okay, on three. One, two… three!” D flipped over into the passenger seat just as Jack slid over and got into the driver’s. The car barely shuddered. “Good,” D said, drawing his gun. He aimed out the hole where the rear window used to be and squeezed off a few shots. “Fuck, hold it steady!”

  “I’m doing my best!” Jack yelled. “Do I look like a stunt driver to you?”

  D tried again. The two cars pursuing them were still on their tail. He didn’t recognize any of the men in them; none of the four men they’d taken out at the hotel were in the cars. Shit, she’s got more muscle than I thought she’d have. Hitting the tire on a moving vehicle was a lot harder than they made it look in the movies, but D finally scored a solid hit on one of the cars. It veered toward the center, out of control.

  The other car accelerated and drew up even with them. The driver fired a few shots at the driver’s side. “Shit!” Jack kept yelling, his head ducked down. D fired back but didn’t hit anything but the side of the car. The car began edging closer, forcing them to the right. “Fuck… he’s gonna push me off the road!”

  “Pull ahead or fall back!” D yelled.

  Before Jack could do either, their pursuer slammed into their left side, hard. Jack swerved right to get away and ended up taking an exit. “Fuck,” Jack muttered, muscling the car down the ramp.

  “Get back on the highway!” D said, but it was too late. Jack had to swerve right to avoid cross traffic and now they were back on surface roads. He looked back. Their pursuer was right on their ass. “We gotta try’n lose this guy, doc.”

  “All right,” Jack said, his jaw clenched grimly, his hands clutching the wheel. “Hang on.”

  D grabbed the oh-Jesus bar above his window as Jack whipped the wheel around, taking turn after turn, running lights. D half-hoped that a cop would stop them, but on the other hand he didn’t want to be responsible for a dead cop. Their pursuer was having trouble keeping up; Jack’s car cornered better.

  D had no idea where they were. Somewhere in East Baltimore. Wherever it was, it wasn’t a very welcoming landscape. Industrial wastelands and abandoned warehouses loomed like giants’ playhouses outgrown and left behind. Jack was watching the buildings speed by as he took turn after turn until, finally, their pursuing car was a few turns behind and out of sight.

  “Okay, get off the road and quick hide somewhere, hope he goes on by us,” D said.

  Jack nodded and took a hard turn into some kind of old brewery-looking building—a bit too hard of a turn. The tire caught on the broken curb going in and they both felt the pop as it blew. “Fuck me sideways,” Jack swore, manhandling the steerless car behind a large tank-like structure. He slammed the brakes and they both jerked forward, D bracing himself on the dashboard. “I’m sorry—” he started, but D cut him off.

  “Jus getcher gun, we gotta move. Ain’t gonna take ’em too long ta figure out where we gone.” He’d reloaded both his guns; now all they could do was leave the car and try to hunker down and call for help. He hated calling for help, but it was him and Jack against at least four pissed-off thugs, likely more than four, and he couldn’t protect
Jack against that kind of resistance.

  They ran across the deserted yard and busted in the door to the warehouse. The morning sunlight slanted in the high windows; the place was empty save for a few lonely pieces of rusty equipment. D led Jack across the room to an office; they sat against the inner wall, hidden from view. “Now’d be the time to call Churchill,” D said. Jack pulled out his phone and flipped it open, then swore. “What?”

  “No signal.”

  “Shit.”

  “Maybe if we got higher up?”

  D didn’t like that idea. He liked this little hidey-hole just fine; it was defensible. But they couldn’t just sit here forever, and the odds of them walking out without help weren’t good. “Yeah, okay.”

  They got up and left the office. There was a metal staircase nearby that led up to the rafters and a door to God knew where, but it was the best option. They climbed quickly; the door at the top turned out to lead out to a catwalk that led from the warehouse to some kind of storage tank about a hundred yards away. Jack tried his phone again, but the look on his face told D what he needed to know. “Well, we cain’t get no higher,” he said. “Back inside.”

  They retreated to the office. “Now what?” Jack asked.

  D hit the wall with a clenched fist. “I don’t fuckin’ know.” He met Jack’s eyes, those trusting blue eyes looking to D for answers, for safety, for a plan. “I’m sorry, Jack.” He swallowed hard. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I ever got you inta this.”

  “It isn’t your fault. I’m the marked-for-death witness, remember?”

  “Yeah, but these guys are after me, not you. Only reason they give a shit about you is because I do.”

  Jack sighed. “You risked your life for me half a dozen times, D. I guess it’s my turn now.”

  “That ain’t your job.”

  “The hell it isn’t.” Jack grabbed D’s hand, his eyes blazing. “You’re my guy, aren’t you?”

  “Am I?” D asked, sounding like a little boy to his own ears, searching Jack’s eyes.

  “Yes, you are. No matter what happens, ’til the day I die.” Jack took a deep breath. “Just as long as I don’t die at your hand.”

  D frowned. “Jack—”

  “That’s what she wants, isn’t it? For you to kill me?”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know. But….” He looked away for a moment. “I think we both know that there’s things she could do that might make you want to kill me, to stop me from hurting.”

  Yes, D did know that. He’d lost considerable sleep pondering what he’d do in that situation, which seemed like just the sort of thing Josey might be planning. “Maybe.”

  “I need you to promise me you won’t.”

  “But… Jack—”

  “No, D. No matter what she does to me, you swear that you won’t kill me. Even if I beg you to. Whatever happens to me, I don’t want my blood on your hands, because you’ll never be able to wash it off.”

  Jack’s words were burning D’s skin like a branding iron. “It don’t matter,” he said. “If it came ta that, I’d follow right after you.”

  “Just promise me.” Jack was gripping D’s fingers so tight it was starting to hurt. “I won’t help her hurt you. I won’t be part of it. Don’t let her make you do it.”

  D nodded. “All right,” he choked out. “I promise.” He stared at Jack’s face and wondered if he’d ever hold this man again, make love to him or wake up to the sight of his face on the pillow at his side.

  Voices outside the warehouse, running feet. D and Jack just sat there huddled inside the office, fingers interlaced, waiting for their fate to find them.

  The door to the warehouse was kicked in. “D!” a voice yelled. “You in here, asshole?”

  D peeked around the open door to the office. Two men with large guns were standing at the door. They’d find them in mere seconds either way, and if he acted now, at least he could thin their numbers a little. “Nope!” he yelled, and shot one of them in the chest. He ducked back inside as the other man opened fire with the automatic, the hail of bullets shattering the glass windows above them. Jack had his arms over his head. D popped his head up again and shot the man with the machine gun, but only winged him. Four more had joined them, and for an agonizing few seconds all he and Jack could do was try and make themselves as small as possible as Josey’s men poured automatic weapons fire into the small office.

  Abruptly, the firing stopped. “D?” came a new voice. A female voice.

  Josey.

  “Motherfucker,” D whispered. Jack grabbed his face and turned it toward him.

  “This is it,” he stammered.

  D nodded. “’Fraid so.”

  Jack swallowed. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

  D drew Jack’s face close and kissed him hard. “Follow my lead, and don’t try nothin’,” he murmured. “This shit’s for real.” Jack nodded.

  D took a deep breath and got to his feet. He faced out into the warehouse through the shattered windows. “Josey,” he said. Jack was getting up to stand at his side.

  She walked forward a few paces. She looked just the same. Practical, flint-eyed, and no-nonsense. “Well. Here’s the infamous Dr. Francisco.” Jack squared his shoulders a little, but said nothing. “Why don’t you both come on out here and be sociable?”

  Hope was quickly draining from D’s body. No one knew they were here. No one even knew anything was wrong. He was hopelessly outgunned and almost out of ammo. Josey had six men with her. If it was his time to pay the bill come due for his many crimes, he’d pay it gladly. The best he could hope for now was that he could somehow convince her to spare Jack’s life. He took a deep breath, grasped Jack’s hand, and walked out of the office with him to stand before the woman who would be his executioner. They stood there and waited as one of Josey’s men patted them down, relieving them of their weapons.

  Josey’s eyes flicked to their clasped hands. “Hmm. I really wouldn’t have guessed that you swung that way, D.” D stayed silent. “You’ve dragged this out quite a bit longer than it was supposed to go.”

  “How was it supposed to go?” he asked.

  “I’d think that’d be obvious. You kill Francisco, I make an anonymous tip, you’re arrested and executed for the murder of a witness.”

  “That’s really it?”

  She shrugged. “You’re the one who likes elaborate plans, not me. Yes, that was it. Simple, straightforward, with an element of poetic justice. At first I was angry that you didn’t kill him, but now it’s all worked out so much better than I could have possibly planned.”

  “Your father deserved what he got,” D said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

  Josey barely reacted. “I’ve no doubt. He was a mean son of a bitch who never gave two shits about me. You think this is about him? Well… it’s partly about him. I was already wondering how to handle the fact that you were ratting out my operatives to the fucking Bureau when I discovered that you’d killed my father. You might say it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  D gritted his teeth. “I know you got some sorta plan, but I won’t kill Jack.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “I’m tellin’ you, I won’t fuckin’ do it.”

  She took a step closer. “But you’ve already done it. You’re doing it right now.”

  D’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck’re you talking ’bout?”

  “You killed him when you loved him, D. When you did that, you gave me a way to hurt you.”

  Without taking her eyes off D’s face, Josey raised her gun and shot Jack in the stomach.

  MEGAN KNEW she had to make her move soon, or she’d be too weak. She didn’t know how much blood she’d lost, but there was a not-inconsiderable pool beneath the chair at her feet. Petros had only been playing with her so far, though. Little cuts, not-so-little cuts…. He hadn’t taken anything off yet, and he hadn’t pulled anything out. That’d be the ne
xt stop.

  There was only one thing she could do to get out of this, and he hadn’t given her the opportunity. All he had to do was lean close…. Fuck, she had to get moving. Somewhere D and Jack were in danger.

  As if obeying a subconscious desire to obey her wishes, Petros moved in front of her. “I suppose that’s enough of the preliminaries,” he purred. He leaned in close.

  Megan lifted her head, which she’d been allowing to sag down to her chest, and smacked her forehead as hard as she could into Petro’s nose. He recoiled and fell on his back.

  She drew a deep breath, rocked back, and threw herself forward, planting her feet hard to flip her entire body, chair and all, the front rung landing across Petros’s neck. He made an amusing gurgling noise. She tilted forward, increasing the pressure across his throat. “Where’d they take Jack and D?”

  He just glared at her.

  “Where?!”

  No response.

  “Fine, have it your way.” She slid her bound arms up and over the chair back, grabbed his straight-razor from the table nearby and sliced herself free. “I’ll find them myself.” She’d taken no more than a couple of steps before dizziness overtook her. That burst of energy to free herself had taken just about everything she had left.

  She heard Petros throw off the chair and get to his feet behind her. Last chance, Megs. She tightened her grip on the straight razor and whirled around, swinging it in a flat arc across his neck.

  He stopped short, his eyes popped wide. Nothing happened for a moment, then a wide mouth opened in his neck and blood poured down his chest. His hands went to his throat but the cut was far too deep for that. Megan watched, gasping, as he slumped to the ground, blood spreading out beneath him.