by S W Vaughn
“No.” Blade flashed a haunted smile. “This sounds familiar.”
Ozzy braced him with an arm and got one of Blade’s around his shoulders. Frank said nothing as they left the room, and Vern held the door open in silence. He returned the favor and held his tongue—though he could’ve said a lot more.
Of course, his brother had already gotten his barbs in. And they hurt just as much as every time before.
Chapter 21
Roman decided to conserve his energy until he was sitting down. If he could sit down. Detective Frank had focused the beating on his kidneys, ribs, and lower spine—so everything from chest to groin felt like it’d been ripped out, run through a blender and stuffed back in. He wasn’t sure he could bend at the middle.
In fact, he half suspected he was still in the interrogation room, hallucinating all this. He would’ve been sure of it if every step didn’t hurt so much. The idea that Ozzy Stone had just saved his life wasn’t easy to wrap his head around.
After an eternity of limping through the eerily silent police station, they reached a glass door that led to the front parking lot. The only car parked there was a little blue sedan. Stone led him to the passenger side and opened the door. “Want the seat back?” he said.
“Yeah.” Roman broke away carefully and leaned against the side of the car, hoping the rattling sound in his lungs wasn’t blood. “Way back.”
Stone ducked inside and adjusted the seat. “Can you get in?”
He nodded. I hope.
While Stone circled around to the driver’s side, he inched carefully toward the opening. He managed to get one leg inside by holding the door. From there, the only way to do this was fast.
So he let himself fall into the seat.
He might have screamed. He couldn’t tell, because pain was the only sensation. For a horrifying instant he thought he’d pass out and never wake up, but sight and sound made a grudging return. He used both hands to haul his other leg inside, and then shut the door. No fucking way was he putting the seat belt on.
When he decided he could open his mouth without vomiting, he said, “Thank you. I thought…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. There was a lot he’d thought—and none of it was anywhere close to what just happened. “Thank you.”
Stone sent him a concerned look. “You need a hospital.”
“No.” He would’ve shaken his head for emphasis, but it hurt too much. “Just get me to Kat’s. Please.”
“I know you’re tough. You don’t have to prove it. You need medical attention.”
“What do I tell them? I fell onto a cop’s fists?” He winced and shifted position, looking for something to squeeze. The seat edge would have to do. “Antonio’s a doctor. Was, anyway. He’ll take care of me.”
Stone hesitated for another minute. Finally, he started the car and backed out.
For the first few miles, Roman kept his eyes closed and concentrated on managing the pain. Eventually his lungs breathed air instead of broken glass. Talking still sucked, but he had to get a few things out. “Guess who I didn’t kill?”
“Besides Frank?”
That made him smile for a second. “Shep.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yeah. Good news, he can’t kill either of us. Bad news, the cops think I did it.”
“No, they don’t. You were just convenient.”
Something in Stone’s guttural voice told him Detective Frank had made a career out of forced confessions. “Your brother’s an asshole,” he said.
“Yes.” Stone’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Don’t worry. He hates me too.”
“Because you can out-bully him?”
There was a long pause before he said softly, “Because I killed our parents.”
Roman stared at him. He looked completely serious, and his expression hadn’t changed except for the set of his jaw. “When you say killed, you mean…something else. Right?”
“No.” Stone let out a shuddering breath. “I was seventeen,” he said. “A stupid kid, but that’s no excuse. Frank was older, already a cop. He was always on me because I never did anything wild. I made him look bad. So I set out to prove him wrong.”
“By killing your parents?”
A bitter laugh escaped him. “By going to a party with my equally stupid friends,” he said. “We got wasted. I’d told my parents I’d be back at midnight, but I was black-out drunk by then. So I never even called. When I still wasn’t home at three in the morning, they went out looking for me.”
Roman waited for him to finish.
“A drunk driver hit them head-on,” he said. “They died instantly.”
“Jesus,” Roman whispered. “That’s awful.”
Stone flinched. “I know.”
“Wait a minute. You don’t actually think it’s your fault, do you?”
“Yes.”
He could practically feel the years of guilt and self-loathing behind the single, hollow word. Carrying that kind of weight around at least explained a few things about Stone—as hard as he was on everyone, he was infinitely harder on himself. He must’ve been hell to work with in the Army. “So you were driving the other car, then,” Roman said. “That’s why it was your fault.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Play armchair shrink with me.” If Stone gripped the steering wheel much harder, he was likely to rip it out. “It is my fault, and I’m dealing with it.”
Yeah. Like you’re dealing with your booze problem. Roman decided it was prudent to keep that thought to himself, and changed the subject. “So…how did you know where I was?” he said.
Stone relaxed a little. “Kat got a message from you,” he said.
“And she told you what it meant?”
“No. She didn’t even mention it at first.” He slowed for a stop sign, but didn’t look either way before he went through the intersection. “She said she had to leave, to do a favor for someone. I figured out the rest.”
“You knew it was me, just like that.”
“You were late. I was worried.” He gave a slight shrug. “I kind of badgered her into giving me the details.”
“Why?”
“When she said you’d been brought in, I knew my brother was involved.” Stone’s features darkened. “Frank has a habit of going after easy targets,” he said. “Ex-cons. Little brothers who can’t defend themselves.”
Roman smirked. “You’re not so little.”
“I was,” he said. “The Army changed that. It’s why I joined.”
“To get bigger?”
“To make sure my brother could never lay a hand on me again.”
The venom behind the words poisoned the air. “He hurt you pretty bad.”
“He still does. Every time.” His jaw twitched. “Frank doesn’t have to touch me anymore to cut me. And he knows it.”
“But you still took him on for me.”
Stone nodded. “You’re a good man,” he said. “Frank isn’t.”
No, I’m not. He resisted voicing the thought. Now wasn’t the time to drag out his own crippling self-esteem issues. “Thank you,” he said. “And for the record…your brother might hate you, but I don’t.”
“All right.”
The effort of talking caught up with Roman, and his body broadcast a strident reminder that he’d just spent an hour or so as Detective Frank’s personal punching bag. “Think I’ll shut my eyes a minute,” he managed. “Tell me when we get to Kat’s.”
He was unconscious before his eyelids finished closing.
Chapter 22
“We may have a problem in here.”
Jerry’s voice in his ear drew Tom away from fantasies of breaking every bone in the new club bouncer’s body, one at a time. He never expected to actually have to use that stupid cover story about tampons they’d come up with for handing off the pinhole camera, and he was well and truly pissed. Enough to consider coming back to this nowhere town after they finished the mission to
set up a private play session with Brutus. “What’s the problem, Johnny?” he drawled. “Did we run out of feminine hygiene products?”
“Get over it. This is serious.”
Tom sighed and straightened in the seat. They’d parked right in front of Blade’s place this time, even though his truck was in the driveway. The man of the house was otherwise engaged—and would be for twenty to life, after what Tom had done to Shep. “All right,” he said. “What is it?”
“I can’t get back into the system.”
“You’re kidding. I thought you were better than him.”
“I am.” Jerry made a frustrated sound, followed by a burst of typing and something that sounded like a fist pounding a keyboard. “Everything’s scrambled,” he said. “Caesar must’ve launched a failsafe right before they took him. I can crack it, but it could take hours. Or days.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. We don’t have days.”
“I know.” There was another lengthy pause, filled with bursts of more typing. “Fuck! I can’t even wipe the drives. There must be a key combination to pop the boot menu, so I’d have to crack that before I could even start breaking the main gates.”
Tom rubbed a temple and groaned. Apparently the legendary washed-up Caesar still had some bite in him—enough to make Jerry the Boy Scout swear, anyway. “We definitely can’t take that much time,” he said. “Where are we in the schedule?”
“Well, we’ve got the feed from the playroom recording. We’re supposed to get the whole night. Then we pick up the package at the hospital after the club closes.”
“The hospital?”
“I cleared it with Top,” he said. “She wants to say goodbye to her sister.”
Tom frowned. “So we don’t really need to tap this guy’s system going forward. Everything’s in place.”
“Right. But I can’t get into it to scrub his security footage,” Jerry said. “The cameras are still going. He’ll be able to access it, if he gets out on bail. Or the cops might make him open it up.”
“We can’t have that,” Tom murmured. He reached down and opened the toolbox next to the driver’s seat, looking for something to get the job he had in mind done. There were plenty of possibilities.
“Come again?”
“I said, you’d better get out here. We need an alternate plan.”
“I hate giving up,” Jerry muttered. “I can beat him.”
“I’m sure you can. You’re the smartest code monkey in the jungle. Now get out here.”
“Fine.”
While he waited, Tom picked up a slim, black plastic device with two thin strips of protruding metal and a small red light. He set it in his lap and rummaged through the toolbox, whistling softly, until he found the white trigger can with stark black lettering that went with the device.
He’d just connected the metal strips and powered the detonator up when Jerry opened the passenger door. One glance at the bundle in Tom’s hands turned him white as a sheet. “You’re crazy,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“We’re done with software,” he said. “Time to deploy the hardware.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much? We could just trash the server.”
“No. We bust up the equipment, it’s easy to tell someone’s trying to hide something.” Tom grinned. “Bring the house down, and anybody could’ve done it. In fact our friend Shep, rest his soul, could’ve planted this before Blade beat him to death with his own tire iron.”
Jerry looked downright sick. “All right. Do what you have to.”
“I was planning on it.”
Tom jumped out of the ambulance, stuck the device in a pocket and headed for the house, whistling the whole time.
Chapter 23
By the time they reached Kat’s, it was almost eleven. Blade was still out of it. Ozzy started wondering whether he’d have to carry the man inside, and then somehow find Antonio without putting him down. That would be a little awkward.
But as soon as he drove from dirt onto gravel, Blade let out a strangled sound and his eyes flew open. “We there?” he slurred after a beat.
“Yes.”
“Good. Do me a favor and pull around back.”
“Why?”
“Don’t want to interrupt business.” Teeth clenched, Blade shifted his legs and tried to get a hand in his pocket. “Christ, that hurts…damn it,” he said. “My phone’s at the house. You still don’t have one, do you?”
Ozzy shook his head. “I’ve got the earpiece.”
“We’re getting you a phone.” Blade sighed and inched back on the seat. “All right,” he said. “Can I borrow it a second?”
“Sure.” He pulled it from the pocket he’d tucked it in when he left, and handed it over. “You think Kat’s back yet?”
“From where?”
“Getting your gun.”
“Oh. Yeah, she should be.” Blade fitted the earpiece on and pressed it. “Anybody home?” he said.
Ozzy heard a faint female voice respond with a long string of words.
“No,” Blade said. “Yes, I’m—Mike. Be quiet a minute.” He let out a breath. “Is Kat around?... He’s back again? No, don’t interrupt her. Just have Antonio come to the back door… I’m fine.” He paused a little longer. “Yes, Stone’s with me… No idea. I guess he’s Superman.” He glanced over with a smirk. “Yeah. Thanks, Mike.” He tapped the earpiece and removed it. “Here,” he said, handing it back. “I wouldn’t put that on just yet, or Mike will talk your ear off.”
“Superman?”
“She wanted to know how you sprung me. Superman’s easier than saying you stormed in, made a couple of detectives piss their pants, and stormed back out.”
Ozzy smiled a little. “Guess it is.”
At the back of the building, he pulled up close to the door and turned the car off. “Who’s back again?”
“Huh? Oh. The new guy, Corvair.” Blade shook his head. “Not sure I like him,” he said. “They’re always too eager in the beginning, but this guy…I don’t know. He’s really raw. And I don’t think Kat should take him two nights in a row.”
“Is he…hurting her?”
“Oh, man.” Blade turned slowly to face him. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand,” he said. “A lot of vanillas don’t get it. But you have to remember that nothing happens here unless it’s wanted. Kat can take it as good as she gives it.” A distant smile surfaced on his lips. “And if he goes too far, she’ll stop him. Trust me on that.”
“All right.” He almost wanted to understand. Maybe it would help him reconcile the idea of some big-shot CEO smacking Kat around with his fierce urge to protect her—one he had to deny, because it was his job. “And you’re sure Antonio can fix you.”
Blade gave a rusty laugh. “Nobody can fix me,” he said. “But yeah, he’ll take care of me. In fact I’d better get out, so he doesn’t try to carry me down there.”
“Need help?”
“Nah. I’ve got this.”
Ozzy wasn’t so sure about that. He grabbed the door handle, ready to get out and help the man off the ground when he fell. But Blade pushed his door open, swung his legs out—and somehow managed to stand, leaning on the car frame for support.
“Huh.” Ozzy climbed out slowly and stared across the roof of the sedan at him. “How can you still move?” he said. “I know how Frank operates. Makes you feel like your gut’s full of broken glass.”
“Yeah. But standing hurts less.” Blade shifted half a step to the side and shut the door. “I’m used to this. Well, not having the shit punched out of me. Don’t think I’ve ever asked for that,” he said. “It’s kind of the same thing as building muscle, but with pain. The more you take, the more you can take.”
“I guess. But why would you?”
“To control it,” he said. “If I can take the pain…then no one can hurt me.”
Before Ozzy could process that, the back door opened and Antonio rushed out. Kat was right behind him. “Jesus,�
�� Blade said. “I told Mike not to interrupt you. Why do you think we came around back?”
“Like I’m not gonna make sure you’re all right with my own eyes.” She stopped next to Ozzy, and her lips twitched once. “You’re not all right.”
“I am. At least, I will be.” Blade watched Antonio come around the car, and held a hand out before the man reached him. “Just take it easy,” he said in soft tones. “I’m okay.”
Antonio stopped. “Like hell you are.” He turned to Ozzy and said, “What happened to him? He won’t tell me everything.”
“My brother happened,” Ozzy said reluctantly.
“Your brother?”
“He’s a cop. Well, he has a badge.” He pushed back a fresh swell of anger. “I missed most of it,” he said. “But Frank likes to go for the kidneys, the gut, the spine. Anything that’ll keep the other guy from standing up to defend himself.”
Antonio looked at Blade. “Is that what he did?”
“Pretty much.”
“Roman…” He stepped forward and cupped Blade’s chin with one hand, then rested his forehead against the other man’s. “No one else gets to hurt you,” he said with a catch in his voice. “That’s my job.”
“If it helps, I promise I didn’t enjoy it.”
Antonio sighed and moved back. “Come on. I’ve got a bed with your name on it.”
Blade let him put an arm around his waist and lead him toward the door. As they passed, he flashed a tired smile and a thumbs-up. But he seemed to have run out of words.
“Well,” Ozzy said when they’d gone inside. “Guess I’ll bring the car around front.”
“It’s fine. Leave it.” Kat’s voice was strained, her eyes wide and shining. “Connections in the sheriff’s department,” she said.
“Something like that.”
“You really did it. They’re not going to come after him again?”
“No,” he said. “My brother and his partner are beyond crooked. They know he didn’t do anything, but he was easy.” In his mind he saw the look in Frank’s eyes as he kept Blade on his knees, struggling to breathe—and wanted to go back to the station and obliterate his face. “Now he’s not so easy, since they know that I’m involved. Besides, I gave him an alibi. They can’t arrest him.”