The Lair of Jack: Long Shot Love Duet (Book Two)

by Aven Jayce

“You’re speechless. I like that.” He reclines lengthwise, dropping the axe on the floor. “Bring me one of them empty bottles, I need an ashtray. Then take a seat on a stool so I can tell you about my first—”

  He’s attacked before he can finish speaking, grabbed by the ankles and dragged off the cot. The cigarette rolls next to me, arms swing, fists pound, and painful groans emerge—both of them fumble for the axe, but neither can pick it up during the fight.

  “I’ll go easy on you,” Jack says.

  “Oomph.”

  Quinn’s on all fours, crippled from a blow to the gut. He pants and holds his stomach while saliva drips from his mouth. Grab the axe. Grab it and use it on the bastard!

  The spider rolls down my cheek and tumbles to my chest, tottering between my breasts. It’s wounded—crushed from being wedged between the cot and my face—about to die near my heart. Long legs flail, but there’s no escape from its imminent, eternal sleep.

  God, I hope its death isn’t a sign.

  “Fuckhead.” Jack stands, smashing Quinn’s hand under his mighty black boot, elbowing his back, and sending him face-first onto the floor. He flips him over and straddles his waist, saying, “Don’t fight me,” as Quinn’s knees thrust upward, trying to force him off, getting his arms drawn above his head in retaliation.

  “What are you, some wild animal?” Quinn says.

  Jack flicks open a switchblade, pressing it to Quinn’s neck with a laugh. “That’s so fucking clever. Did you know I’m a huge Eric Burdon fan? You know him, right, the singer from The Animals? My dad doesn’t understand the love I have for his music. He calls it a strange obsession.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “I was blessed with Eric’s extraordinary voice and brilliant charm. Women find me irresistible, like him. It’s awesome. I’m such a god. Admit it... look at me... listen to my voice, feel me.”

  “Get away!”

  “My hard body, the allure of my low... oh, so damn low and stimulating voice. It’s time to surrender, Quinn. Submit.”

  Grace, once immobilized in fear, bolts out the door and escapes into the darkness. Smart rabbit.

  “You ready?” he asks. “Let’s play.”

  Quinn’s muscles tighten... fuck! A dribble of bright red blood appears on his neck. God, no!

  “Please... don’t... don’t,” he whispers, trying to remain calm.

  “Well, would you look at that. Tiny drops of blood always get me hard. Not pools of it, just enough so I can get a whiff of that metallic scent. What a turn-on. So, do I have your undivided attention now?”

  He nods and quickly says, “Yes.”

  “Okay... Kiddo.”

  What the hell was that? Did Dylan walk in? I swear, I swear that sounded like two men speaking. A second voice floated out of his mouth when he said the word “kiddo.” What the fuck? What was that?

  “Good, this is going exactly as planned. A typical intervention where the side trying to help has to deal with the other side fighting them every step of the way—kicking and screaming, refusing to admit they have a problem.”

  “And just what do you think my problem is?”

  The blade slides down Quinn’s chest then twirls over the dried blood spot on his jeans. Jack taps the area with his knife, and says, “This, my friend. This is your problem. Dylan said your dad tried to cut your dick off when he caught you kissing another—”

  “Get off me. Get off!”

  “Shh.” The knife slides back up and is placed between Quinn’s lips. “Stop acting like you did something wrong and listen. I’m not your dad. There’s no need to keep your feelings for men a secret from me.”

  Quinn’s overpowered and looks miserable. Is it true? No, it can’t be. This is all bullshit. Jack’s getting into his head... my head, too.

  I blow on his cig until it rolls out from under the bed and the smoke clears. Luckily, he’s too busy slipping the tip of the blade across Quinn’s lips to notice.

  “As I started to say—before you so rudely hauled me out of your bed—my dad walked in on me when I was balls deep inside a friend. I wasn’t sure whether to stop fucking him and act like it was a one-time deal, maybe tell my dad I was just experimenting, or smile and wave. I ended up paralyzed while my friend hid his face in the pillow. I waited, and my dad let the moment slide with a shrug. He muttered something about fucking a man was a step up from fucking a partially thawed turkey... which I have to admit, ass and pussy feel a hell of a lot better than a piece of dead meat, although some of the women I’ve been with—”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Christ wasn’t involved in any way. The turkey fuck happened a year or two before then, around Thanksgiving, not Christmas. Anyway, let’s get to the point.”

  “Yeah, get to the fucking point.”

  “Watch your mouth or I’ll cut you again.”

  Jack leans in my direction, picking up the cigarette. So far, he hasn’t dropped his head low enough to look under the bed. I’m still safe, even with the spiders; on the other hand, poor Quinn is in Hell.

  “So my dad shrugged it off and left me to my business, and later that night my stepmom brought over a cake all decked-out with rainbow sprinkles. She said, ‘Happy being bi, Jack. Let’s celebrate!’ What a woman... she’d fuck me if my dad weren’t around... anyway, it was a sweet night. She tousled my hair and patted my leg, her cleavage showing as we sat in front of the TV watching Game of Thrones while eating rainbow cake and drinking beers. I had fun dicking my buddy, but I also wanted to slide my rock-hard teenage cock inside my stepmom that night. Men or women, who cares, right? It shouldn’t matter. People are people. Sex is sex.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He takes a drag of his smoke while gripping Quinn’s jaw, rocking his head back and forth. “You seem like a smart enough guy. Don’t act so innocent. Men or women, it doesn’t matter, or it shouldn’t, unless your dad beats it out of you.”

  The knife’s set next to Quinn’s head and the cigarette’s positioned between his lips. He doesn’t inhale or spit it out. It sits there, a long ash about to drop on his face.

  He becomes wide-eyed when his nipple’s flicked.

  “You go beyond that point and I’ll do everything in my power to knock you out,” he says in a muffled tone, speaking through the cig filter.

  “There it is... go ahead and erupt. Let it all out.”

  “What?”

  “The anger your dad ingrained in your head. He shut down your desires and replaced them with misery. You’ve been brainwashed into believing this is wrong, it’s dirty, that my touch is a sin. Think about it, while I got a delicious cake for cumming in a guy, you almost got your dick cut off for kissing one—talk about negative feedback. I want to fix it. I want to make it all better for you so we can fuck, face to face. I want to watch your eyes clamp shut and lips tighten as my cock slides slowly inside you. I want to see the beautiful pain on your face from the pressure, and the joy when it also feels, oh, so fucking good.”

  Quinn’s lips press together and the cig straightens as he inhales. I didn’t know he smoked. And the veins on his neck are about to blow. He’s furious.

  “Why don’t you start by admitting I’m right? You were caught lip-locked to another boy when you were a kid.”

  “No.”

  “Your dad lost his shit.”

  “No.”

  “And he flew into a rage.”

  “Shut up.”

  “He said you didn’t deserve to have a dick, but you were quick, and he was drunk, so you got away with a just a cut on your leg. That was the first mark.”

  He inhales again, spits out the cigarette, and goes mute.

  “Good. Stay quiet so I can finish without any interruptions... so that first time, it was good, right? You were what, maybe nine or ten? Bet you came in your pants from that kiss, then every time after that, when you stroked that stubby, prepubescent boy dick, you g
ot angry thinking about men because of your dad. He made you hate yourself. It’s a typical story you’d hear from a serial killer confessing he chopped people to bits because of a shitty childhood.”

  “Are you talking about me, or you? Did a shitty childhood make you this way? You didn’t feel any love growing up?” Quinn fires back, turning the tables on him. “You expect heads to turn whenever you enter a room, and if they don’t, you throw a tantrum and wave a gun in the air to get attention. You’re afraid, aren’t you? Scared to death that you’ll go unnoticed. I can see that now. Don’t mess with my life when yours is even more fucked up.”

  Jack laughs and places the blade back to his neck. “Yeah, whatever. You want to be left alone and I’m afraid of being alone. Nice try. Don’t upset me too much, I’m still debating whether or not I should kill you.”

  He drops down, spreading his entire body over Quinn’s, his blond hair in a James Dean pompadour-ish style that accentuates his mangled ears. It’s ever so slightly uneven, and I’d guess he trims it himself.

  “Chest to chest, flesh to flesh.” His groin circles over Quinn’s, his tat-covered arms tense. “Cock to cock. Let’s do this. You loved it last summer, let’s fool around again.”

  He’s lying. He has to be lying. If I could reach the axe, I’d be able to help Quinn out of this. I wonder if I can sneak out without being heard, sneak out and punch that bastard in the back of the head. Strike him down. Knock him out. I’m gonna do it.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. We just met.”

  “Is that right?” He laughs again. “I guess it’s possible you didn’t realize it was me who took you into that dark closet next to the office last summer. Remember that? I didn’t say a word; I just came up from behind, pushed you inside, slammed you into the wall, and held you in place with my forearm to your neck. Then I let my hand do all the work. With a swift dive into your shorts, it came out two minutes later coated in cum. I slapped a twenty in your hand and left.”

  “Stop talking.”

  “Is that another reason you started coming out here? So you wouldn’t get ambushed again?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Yep, that was me. I was only around for two days. Wish I had run into you a second time. Are you sure you don’t remember?”

  “My God, stop. That’s everything I’m against. I’m not selling my body.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t count, since you didn’t know I was going to pay you. Why don’t you go ahead and just pretend it was two men having fun—a closet quickie. No time to think or run, just a fast yank.”

  “Stop moving... stop grinding over me.”

  “Shh. Calm down. You’ve been hard for me before... good... I feel it coming on.”

  “Get off me, fucker.” Quinn struggles, unable to get up with his wrists held and his legs confined between Jack’s.

  “Take a deep breath, come clean, and I’ll stop. Admit you like men, admit you like women, and say that’s cool... say there’s nothing wrong with who you are... say it.”

  “You better pray I don’t get a hand free.” His clenched fists are ready to strike.

  “Did you start without me?” Dylan walks in, plopping on the cot and sending a metal spring back onto my cheek. His body odor is flat-out nasty and his short, wheezy breaths sound like he’s having an asthma attack. “Bro, I wouldn’t bother trying to get away. You’ll get your ass kicked. This guy’s pretty tough, he took Trent down.”

  “Why the fuck did you tell him about Dad? Why?” he shouts at the top of his lungs.

  “You’ve been frustrated about this shit since you were a kid, you can never find a girl... or a guy. You’re always alone, man. You’ve had like two girlfriends, and I don’t think either one made you happy. Dad fucked you up pretty good.”

  “I had a girlfriend who I loved. You ruined it. You ruined everything!”

  “I didn’t say a word in front of her about anything. I played it cool. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is... I didn’t... she didn’t... fuck, Dylan.”

  She’s here, that’s the big deal, and he didn’t want me to find out.

  “It’s my business.”

  “It’s my business, now, and you and Addie must think I’m fucking oblivious.” He puts his switchblade in his pocket, spits in Quinn’s face, then stands and walks closer to Dylan. “Get her out from under the bed, tie ‘em both up with that rope over by the workbench, then bring ‘em out to my car. I’ll be parked in the private lot on the north side of the retreat.” He crouches on all fours to pick up the axe before peeping under the bed with a sly smile. “Hello, sneaky bitch. Nice outfit... for a prostitute. Are you practicing how you’re gonna present your body to me and my guests?”

  I don’t have enough room to squeeze my arm between the cot and my vagina to cover it, or my breasts for that matter, but I am able to give him the finger.

  “Why don’t you slip into something sexy for our special night out on the town. Get ready to party with Jack Jameson.” He gets up and struts past the workbench to the door. “Make it quick, Dylan. Two minutes, tops. We’ve got a body to dump... maybe more than one.”

  Chapter Two

  ONCE A JAMESON...

  HE KNEW. THAT WICKED FIEND knew I was in the barn hiding under that filthy, spider-infested cot. He embarrassed Quinn, broke him down, and pierced his heart with such a cruel and unnecessary confrontation. Now, he’s so humiliated he won’t even look at me.

  I’m going to destroy Jack. I am. It may not be a physical attack, but I’m going to find a way to hurt him worse than the verbal wounds he’s inflicted on Quinn.

  Game on.

  “Don’t worry about it, everything’s cool.” Jack taps the steering wheel, talking to his dad via the Bluetooth system as we drive through Albany.

  “What the fuck? Roxanne said there’re witnesses. Two kids. I taught you better than this,” his dad says.

  “I’m not worried.”

  “You should be.”

  “Dad, hold up. Why can’t you trust me instead of losing control over little things like this?”

  “Little things... little things? Did you cut the guy into pieces? Is that why you’re referring to him as little things? You’ve fucking lost control.”

  “The prick called me Richie Rich and he flicked my ear.”

  “The cartoon character? That’s clever.” His dad laughs, sounding a lot like Jack.

  “Shut up... quit laughing, it’s not funny.” He presses a button on his steering wheel and hangs up. “What an ass.”

  “Nah, he can’t be too much of an ass if he bought you this sweet Dodge Charger.” Dylan says, riding shotgun, while Quinn and I keep quiet in the back seat. “A Hellcat, no less. You’re fucking lucky. Hey, didn’t I see you driving a Mustang earlier, too?”

  “The Mustang’s part of the retreat.”

  “So it’s not yours?”

  “Of course it’s mine. Afterglow’s mine, the rooms are mine, all the workers are mine, the liquor, food, furnishings, pool, and the car are all mine... well, mine and my dad’s. We have a car at every retreat. I took it out a couple times to make sure Roxanne hadn’t fucked it up. My dad lets her use it for business.”

  “So it’s hers.”

  “No, dumbass. She drives it to lure people like you to the retreat, like telling a kid you got candy in the van. You can’t expect potential workers to get in a beat-up piece-of-shit car or some bland SUV. It has to be a nice ride.”

  “Ahh.”

  “And my dad and I like to have it when we fly in, only I drove this time. I needed a long road trip to get away from him for as long as possible.”

  I look over my shoulder at the seat, knowing Trent’s body is in the trunk behind me. “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “Anyway, I’d rather get blood in the Mustang than my Hellcat, so it was good for him to bleed out in that trunk, but the Mustang’s too small for all of us to tak
e a trip in.”

  The dash lights up with a call from his dad.

  “Yeah?” Jack answers.

  “Don’t hang up.”

  “Well don’t laugh. The guy had it coming for other reasons besides touching me. I would’ve ignored his grubby fingers on my earlobe; except he killed a whore... he tossed her into the Hudson. That’s why I slit his throat.”

  “What whore? What the fuck did you get yourself into this time? Can you stop stepping in other people’s shit and focus on Afterglow?”

  I hear liquid pouring and a sigh. I’d say everyone needs a drink when dealing with Jack. I could use one myself.

  “Prove you can handle running this business on your own without wreaking havoc, then maybe I’ll step down and turn over my share.”

  It sounds like he swallows a shot and slams the glass on a counter.

  “For now, I’m your boss and you need to listen to me.”

  “Maybe you’ll step down? Maybe? That’s not the agreement. You said after five years it would all be mine. Are you changing our deal?”

  “I’m not discussing this with you again. Take care of the body and the witnesses then get back to business. I’ve got my own company to take care of without worrying about my twenty-year-old son fucking up my world.”

  “Thanks for showing me so much love, Dad. And, I’m twenty-two.”

  “Don’t start. You’re still young enough to get smacked upside the head next time I see you.”

  “Or cut.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you get it? He flicked my ear. Just like high school, people get a kick pointing out that I’m marred. I look like a disfigured beast because of you.”

  “You just said you could’ve ignored the ear flick, that it was about a whore. So which is it? Your ear or the whore?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says with an air of sadness. “I gotta get off the phone and take care of the body.”

  “Just remember to dig deep, no shallow graves and not too close to the building. We’ve got a lot of acreage up that way; it should be easy enough to make him disappear.”

  “I’m dumping him in Albany, at some park where he used to sleep.”