by Sam Burns
Alex smiled. “More than you think.”
On his way to the nearby train station, Alex felt lighter than he had since talking to Mrs. Spielman.
There was still Liam’s job and constant lying to contend with, sure, but knowing the truth was half the battle. Apparently, the truth was that Liam was watching him for Keegan’s father.
His stomach dropped in sudden realization. What if Liam was only with him because of Keegan’s father’s orders? It was probably easier to watch him if he was pretending to date him, and then he got to have sex, too. Liam had implied that wasn’t the case, but he had also been the one to point out that he was lying to Alex about almost everything. And that Alex would be angry with him when he found out the truth.
Trying to figure out what was going on in Liam’s head was just going to give Alex a headache. He wondered if being Liam was as uncomfortable as trying to figure him out. Alex wasn’t a great liar, unless it was to himself, so he’d never been in a position like that. He didn’t think he would be much better than Liam, and it seemed to him that Liam was terrible at it. Admitting you were lying about everything didn’t seem like the best way to lie well.
He stretched his neck to either side and then rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the pent-up tension that had come from a combination of worry and a four-hour shift waiting tables.
The sidewalk was quiet, but that wasn’t strange at three in the afternoon. It was right between lunch and dinner on a very cold Monday, and it hadn’t snowed, so most people in downtown Chicago were working, and no one wanted to be outside any more than necessary.
Quiet in downtown Chicago also didn’t mean alone. Sidewalks there were rarely empty, even in the middle of the night. Something about this sidewalk was wrong, though. A glance in a reflective window across the street told Alex that there was a man a few yards behind him. It took a minute of running faces through his head but he recognized the guy. He and another man had been hanging around outside Liam’s apartment building that morning.
He wondered if he was just being paranoid, seeing gangsters around every corner because they were a part of his life now. He hadn’t ever considered them before, much less worried that maybe one was following him. Maybe this was the man who followed him when Liam was doing something else. Maybe it was just some random pedestrian, and Alex was jumping at shadows.
It was easy enough to test. Alex sped up. If the man wasn’t following him, he’d be nowhere in sight in no time at all. It only took a few seconds after that to determine that yes, the guy was following him. He not only sped his pace to keep up, he seemed to be gaining on Alex.
Alex felt like prey; like a bunny being pursued by something fast with big sharp teeth. His heart sped, and his feet followed suit. The guy had to know that Alex had seen him, but he couldn’t seem to calm his reaction. He hadn’t ever felt like he was in mortal danger before. Unsurprisingly, it was not as glamorous or exciting as it was in movies. It was flat out awful. There was a loud rushing in his ears that he suspected was his heartbeat, and his face felt like it was on fire. He hadn’t known that blushing was a thing he did when terrified. It was information he could have lived without.
He slipped around the corner of a building and started sprinting for the station. He was in broad daylight, even if it was a little overcast and quiet. Surely the guy wouldn’t—
It happened so fast that if he hadn’t been intimately involved, he might have missed it. A van with the side door open pulled up next to him, and the man behind him caught up, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him inside.
Alex hadn’t ever been in a fight before. He had no experience or frame of reference. But he damned well wasn’t getting kidnapped without one.
He elbowed his kidnapper in the belly, since the man had so conveniently placed himself behind Alex, and then jammed his foot down on the guy’s instep. It seemed like something that would be painful, and he felt a momentary thrill of satisfaction when the guy howled and grabbed for his foot, letting go of Alex’s midsection.
When he went for the door, though, it had already closed, and the guy driving had clicked the locks shut. Alex whirled to look at him, and found that the driver had a gun in his hand. Even if he was driving, Alex didn’t like his chances. He put his hands in the air.
“Look, kid,” the driver said. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but O’Hanrahan said he wants to talk to you. Not kill you, not have us dump your body in the lake, but talk.”
“Fuck that, Mickey,” the kidnapper ground out through obvious pain. “I say we shoot him and tell the boss he put up a fight.”
The driver, Mickey, gave Alex a look that said, ‘I have to work with this idiot.’ It didn’t make Alex feel better, but it was certainly surreal. “You’re a dumbass, Jim. If you wanna tell O’Hanrahan that you lost your temper and shot the kid, you’re an even bigger one than I think.”
“Like he’s gonna give a shit that I shot some kid he wanted me to grab,” the kidnapper said. He prodded Alex’s chest with his own gun. “Turn around.”
For some reason, Alex looked to Mickey for a cue.
“He’s gonna tie your hands, kiddo, ‘cause he’s scared of you,” Mickey said. He gave Alex a wicked smile as he holstered his gun.
“Fuck you, Mickey,” the man spat back, never taking his eyes off Alex. “Turn the fuck around, now.”
Alex did as he was told. He scoured his brain for tips on what to do if you’ve been kidnapped, but the information ranged from the useless to the highly improbable. He decided that there wasn’t a lot he could do against two gun-wielding thugs, so he would have to wait. He was being taken to someone—apparently not Keegan’s father—who wanted to talk to him. He assumed that ‘talk’ was at best a euphemism for threaten, and he wished he knew what he’d done to piss off a mobster.
Jim slipped a zip-tie around his wrists and pulled it tight, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation. Alex wondered if that meant he was good or bad at tying people up. The guy also took his phone, of course, and handed it to his partner, who pocketed it.
“Don’t look so worried,” Mickey told him, meeting his eye in the rearview mirror as he drove. “I’m sure it’ll be okay.”
Giving a snort, Jim looked at Alex. “No, it won’t. O’Hanrahan wants to see you. Dunno what you did to piss him off, but you’re screwed.”
“I don’t even know who O’Hanrahan is,” Alex protested.
The guy shrugged. “You’re fucking Kennedy, right? He probably wants to off both of you at the same time.”
Mickey’s head jerked around to look at Jim. “What do you mean, he’s fucking Kennedy?”
“I mean he’s fucking Kennedy,” Jim said, enunciating each word as though he thought Mickey was stupid.
Mickey turned back to the road, but gave Alex a long look in the mirror. After a moment, he mouthed “Alex?”
He wasn’t sure Mickey needed a response, but Alex gave the smallest nod possible, just in case. He didn’t want to leave his life in the hands of a thug, but Mickey seemed to be the lesser of all evils involved.
Though his eyes were narrowed and his expression was strained, Mickey’s voice came out casual. “So he’s the musician kid that Kennedy’s been watching for the boss.”
“O’Hanrahan didn’t say anything about having Kennedy watch him,” Jim said. He was staring out the window and looking bored, seeming unaware of the tension in the van.
“The boss,” Mickey said quietly. “Not Patty. The boss has Kennedy under orders.”
Jim turned and gave him an amused look. “Please. It’s the same thing. What O’Hanrahan wants, Quinn wants. You should remember that.”
Mickey nodded and didn’t look at Alex again, but there was something in his eyes that said the idea hadn’t left him.
They had been heading south for a while when Jim pulled a bag out of the back seat and came at Alex with it. Despite the fact that he was tied up and Jim was gun happy, Alex’s instinct was to fight.
>
“Hey,” Mickey said from the front seat, finally catching Alex’s eye again. “Nothing you can do about this part. And it’s a good thing. Means you don’t know things that the boss wouldn’t want you knowing.” Something about the way he stressed the words ‘the boss’ made Alex’s stomach settle, if only a little.
He stared back at Mickey until his eyes were covered with cloth. The bag smelled of nothing but cheap detergent and didn’t seem particularly horrible, other than that it was over his head. Then it occurred to him that other people had probably had the same bag on their heads. Some of them were probably dead. He shuddered.
Eventually the van stopped, and Alex was yanked out of it. He was sure the rough hand around his arm was Jim, shoving him forward, turning him, and then shoving some more. From the relative warmth and lack of wind, he figured that they were in a building. It didn’t seem like a well-insulated building, though, because it was still pretty cold.
Jim gave one last hard push and Alex fell forward, only stopping when he hit a concrete floor. He’d had enough warning of the impending fall that he’d turned on his side and let his shoulder take most of the impact. It thudded heavily, but there was no crack or sharp pain, just the dull ache of something that was going to bruise.
He heard a heavy breath near his ear, and the bag was pulled off his head. Mickey’s face came into view. “Y’okay, kid?”
Alex nodded, but he knew he looked shaken.
“Jesus, Martin, you’d think you were the one fucking him,” Jim said from somewhere behind them. “Let’s just go. O’Hanrahan wanted him, we delivered him.”
Mickey nodded, but he didn’t break eye contact with Alex. Contrary to the nod, his words were questioning. “We should at least wait until Patty gets here, shouldn’t we?”
“I saw his car around the side,” Jim said. “And you don’t wanna see him right now. He’s in a bad way. You hear Kennedy got Donny killed yesterday?”
Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “Donny was a fucking idiot. If anybody got him killed, it was probably himself.”
There was a chuckle from the doorway, and Mickey stiffened. A smooth voice followed. “That he was, Michael, and he very probably did. You’ll have to forgive a man wanting to remember his nephew fondly, though.”
Swallowing hard like a cartoon character, Mickey nodded. He looked scared, but again, he looked Alex in the eye and gave him a small nod. He pulled away and straightened. “Wish we’d met under better circumstances, Kennedy’s friend. Maybe some other time.”
Jim chuckled. “Not likely.”
“Now Jim,” the other voice, Alex assumed O’Hanrahan, came again. “There’s no reason to be rude to my guest. He’s here to help me with a problem.”
“Yes, sir,” Jim said, but he sounded annoyed. “You don’t want us to stick around and get rid of him?”
The other man laughed. “Now how would he help me with a problem if we got rid of him? No, you boys go ahead home for the night. I can handle my guest.”
“And Kennedy?” Jim asked.
“I doubt Kennedy is going to be a problem,” the man answered. “He’ll want his cute little boyfriend back in a single piece, don’t you think? Off you go.”
There was motion to the side that Alex couldn’t see, but he heard doors slamming and after a few minutes, a vehicle started in the distance. There was only silence for a while after that.
“So,” the man finally said, “you’re the Austin boy. Does Kennedy even know you’re a spoiled rich brat? Or has he bought into the drug-addled hipster vibe?”
Alex tried to shrug, but it was hard when one arm was against the floor. It was really starting to hurt, too. He thought about flipping onto his back, but since he was still tied up, that would put a lot of pressure on his hands. Not to mention the fact that he’d be like a flipped turtle then, and completely helpless.
“Do you know what he’s up to?” the man asked, voice still as light as if they were chatting about nothing of importance. “Has he told you? Or is he doing it for you secretly, like some kind of romantic sap?”
He tried not to, but Alex couldn’t help himself. “Doing what? He hasn’t told me anything.”
Another long silence followed. “Hmph.”
Footsteps sounded, and there was pressure on his shoulder, a foot pushing him onto his back. He tried to resist, but he had no leverage. His knuckles scraped the concrete floor as his body weight settled onto his hands.
It was the other, older man from Liam’s apartment building that morning. He looked into Alex’s eyes for a long moment before nodding. “I do believe you’re telling the truth. Our Liam must be fantastic in bed. That, or you’re easy.”
“Why’s that?” Alex asked, despite himself. He didn’t care what this man thought. He was just curious about the thread of logic that led to those conclusions.
“He’s told you nothing. You don’t know where he works, or who for, or anything about it. You don’t seem surprised by all of this, though,” the man said, motioning toward the room. “So I figure there must be a reason you’re putting up with it. Don’t tell me you’re in love with him?”
Alex considered that for a while. “I’ve only known him for two weeks,” he finally answered.
The man gave him a predatory smile. “That wasn’t a no.”
Once again, Alex tried to shrug. His shoulder hurt worse with the pressure off it, and he winced. “So what’s he doing that has you freaked out enough to kidnap a random bystander?”
“Oh, but you’re not a random bystander,” the man said. He kneeled down next to Alex, a smile on his face and nothing in his eyes. “You may not be in love with him, but I think our Liam falls easier than you. You should have heard him trying to put me off this morning.”
“Trying to put you off?” Alex tried to roll his shoulders, to release some of the building pressure, but it just increased the weight on his hands and sent a stabbing pain shooting through his bruised side.
The man’s laugh was as empty as his eyes. “Telling me that you were nothing. That it was easier to watch you if he fucked you.”
Alex recoiled; he couldn’t help it. Liam had said that. Alex’s biggest concern about the realization that Liam was watching him, and he had flat out told someone it was true. He had told this shell of a man that he didn’t care about Alex.
The man’s smile turned into a feral grin. “How about that? Seems that you fall faster than you think, too.”
“What do you want?” Alex asked, keeping his voice as steady as possible. Years on the debate team to please his father were finally paying off.
“I want your boyfriend to do a few things for me,” the man answered, standing back up and walking over to a couch on one side of the room. He plopped down and threw his feet up on the low table in front of it. “I want him to stop talking to the cops, for one.”
The cops? Liam was talking to the cops?
Alex must have looked as shocked as he felt, because the man chuckled. “It’s all so terribly romantic, don’t you think? Heartless thug meets boy, boy gives heartless thug a reason to give a fuck about life again, heartless thug decides to bite the hand that feeds him and go to the cops.”
A tendril of hope crept in around Alex’s heart, trying to shove the darkness away. If Liam was really talking to the cops, that could only be a good thing, whether it had anything to do with Alex or not. That meant that there was something inherently good in Liam, even if he was a bad guy. Because Liam wasn’t a bad guy, not really. He couldn’t be.
“Unfortunately for Liam,” the man said, rudely interrupting Alex’s inner monologue. “That means he’s now a problem. Fortunately for him, he’s not the worst of my problems.”
Alex didn’t want to imagine what being the worst of O’Hanrahan’s problems would feel like.
“This is where you come in, my boy,” the man continued, acting as though Alex was a contributing member of the conversation. “You see, it’s become painfully obvious that our Liam is in love with you
. So when he arrives tonight, he’s either going to agree to do me a little favor, or I’m going to kill you.”
A chill ran down Alex’s spine. His life was riding on whether or not Liam actually loved him. He wasn’t sure if he liked those odds.
14
Liam Is Out of Fucks
By the time Liam got home from his meeting with Casey, he felt like he was ready for a nap.
He still had the evening to consider, though. He’d agreed to meet Alex at his place at four, but O’Hanrahan had demanded a meet at six. He needed to call Alex when he got off work to let him know he was going to be late.
Maybe telling Alex not to come at all would be for the best. There was no way to know what O’Hanrahan was thinking, and every encounter with him had the potential to be the last meeting of Liam’s career in crime.
Or given the way the day before had gone, the last meeting of Liam’s life. He tried not to think about that.
For a while he tried to watch television, but daytime TV was a wasteland. He wanted to go down to Wilde’s to see Alex, but there was only so much time he could spend there without looking like a creep who followed his boyfriend around. Admittedly he was supposed to be a creep who followed Alex around, but again, there was only so much of that he could do before it got obvious.
He missed having a daily grind. Getting coffee with Casey and talking about their cases, poring over files, connecting dots that seemed impossibly distant. He even missed the paperwork a little bit. He shouldn’t. He was going to have plenty of that when he got back. The deadly shootout at the docks alone was going to generate a few dozen reports.
Liam pulled his phone out and checked the time. Three. He called Alex, but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe he’d forgotten to turn his phone on after work.
By the time four rolled around, he was getting worried. Despite his concern about being creepy, he called Wilde’s.
The usual chipper voice answered. “Wilde’s! How can I help you this afternoon?”