by Shaye Marlow
Thea jumped up off my lap as the door jingled again, and made her next customer a ‘sludge cup’, whatever the heck that was.
“I’m going to go look for my brothers a bit more,” I said. Their absence was really starting to disturb me. It didn’t feel right.
Thea nodded, back behind her counter, the sunlight gleaming in her hair. No matter what happened between us—whether or not I took that flight—I’d always remember her like this, standing there under that cheerful mobile.
“See you this evening?” she asked.
“Of course.” Absolutely! Where the hell else would I be? I’m addicted to you, woman!
She smiled again, and as I walked out, I couldn’t help doing so myself.
Chapter Nineteen
J.D.
Tim’s place looked like every other from the river, just a sandy trail leading back into the trees from the beach. There was a boat pulled up at the base of the trail, a nice, six-seater guide boat. I pulled up next to it, peering inside. It looked perfectly normal, clean, empty.
Tossing out my anchor, I started up the trail. I kept an eye out, ears pricked, ready for anything as I climbed a good half mile upward. Tim’s cabin was perched on a hill with an excellent view of the river. The building was a slap-dash affair that might’ve started life as a cabin kit, but then’d birthed a couple additions. Moose racks, skulls attached, decorated the front face of the building.
I knocked on the door, which was steel, with peeling brick-red paint. When no one answered, I peered in the windows. It was dim inside, a little messy, with basic furnishings—a couch, wood stove, and little kitchenette. Bear furs and stuffed fish on the walls.
A sound made me straighten. I cocked my head, listening. There it was again, what sounded like a cry of pain. What sounded like Rory’s cry of pain—a sound I knew quite well.
Moving quickly, I rounded the cabin.
Aw, nuts. Wreck had them.
My brothers were sitting in chairs—tied to chairs—in the yard, in their underwear, their skin reddened in places where it looked like they’d been hit.
Rory caught sight of me first. “J.D.! J.D., please! Save us,” he implored, tugging at his restraints. “This monster kidnapped us, and has been torturing us for hours!” He looked very sure I was going to leap into action, and start kicking ass.
Maybe, some other time, some other place, with some other captor—and a whole shoulder—I would have. But now, my gaze sweeping over the tableau, I saw the new MMA champ, fit and uninjured, and beside him Tim, the giant human being that almost clobbered me to death via sheer strength every summer, and behind them a couple more able-looking men. In that pause, I decided it would be unwise to proceed with my fists, and besides: They probably didn’t have my brothers without cause.
I cut to the chase. “What did they do?”
“Do?” Rory demanded. “Nothing! These jokers grabbed us, out of nowhere!” He continued his stream of self-righteous innocence, but I was no longer listening.
Wreck nodded to Tim. Tim turned, picked up something large, dark, and floppy off a four-wheeler cart, and threw it at my feet. It sprawled across the ground like an empty husk. A furry, empty husk. I nudged at it with my toe, and a slender piece separated from the rest. At the end of it: a dark, deflated hand.
Aw, fuck.
“They were wearing these?” I asked.
“Oui,” said Wreck. He, Tim, and the three guys behind them all stood at the ready, waiting for me to make my intentions known.
I surveyed the scene one more time. Then I nodded, turned, and started to walk away.
“J.D.!” Rory shrilled. “J.D., you can’t just leave us here! J.D., we’re your brothers!”
I kept walking. Yeah, I felt a little bad, but I tamped down hard on that feeling. I wasn’t going to save them. They’d made their bed, and now they were gonna sleep in it.
“Dammit J.D.,” Zack growled.
“J.D.! J.D., please!” Rory cried.
I stopped, my ears prickling. Was I so weak? But he’d spoken the truth; he was my brother, and his voice had held the hint of tears.
“Please,” Rory sniffled.
He was begging. My brother was begging me. What kind of brother would I be if I ignored that? He’d said Wreck’d had them for hours. Weren’t hours of torture enough payback for what they’d done?
Eh, it didn’t matter either way. The fact was, they were my brothers. These goons had my brothers. And I was Jesse Danger, and I didn’t have to take no shit offa nobody.
My brothers shouldn’t have to, either.
I turned back around. “I want my brothers,” I said steadily, studying Wreck’s group for some sort of weakness. I needed an advantage. One helluva advantage, to beat five men.
“We are not finished with them,” Wreck said, just as calmly, just as steadily. He turned his body until he was squared off with me. Ready to fight.
Dammit, there was no way I could beat him. Not with my shoulder all fucked up. Not out of shape, and out of practice.
“Surely,” I said, “they’ve learned their lesson by now.”
“Oh yes.” Rory sounded contrite, but way too eager. “Yes, we’ll never do it again. We’re so sorry!”
The Frenchman turned to look at him, his eyes narrowed.
“We have. We won’t!” Zack insisted.
Yeah, I didn’t believe him either. “Hand them over to me,” I said, “and I’ll hurt them some more for you. They’ll learn their lesson, and actually will be sorry, I promise.”
Wreck shook his head, a short, sharp movement. “I will have that pleasure,” he said. “And you will leave.”
I held my hands out, trying to appear harmless. With my tone, I tried for reasonable. “C’mon guys. There has to be something I can do to convince you.”
“Did you throw that fight?” Wreck asked.
“I…” I looked at the men gathered in a half-circle around my brothers, and then met my brothers’ eyes. I steeled myself, and looked to Wreck. “I was going to, but then you caught me by surprise with that kick.” It felt good, finally telling the truth. “So… you won, fair and square.”
Wreck’s eyes flared. He took a step forward. “You are saying that you were going to throw the fight, but I won anyway?”
I lifted my good shoulder in a shrug.
He shook his head. “Were you giving it your all, were you trying your best to win right up to that point?”
“Well… no.”
“Then I did not win, ‘fair and square’. I demand a rematch, Jesse Danger.”
Inwardly, I winced. “Okay,” I said slowly. He’d slaughter me, but okay, I’d do it. I had only my pride to lose—and not much of that left, now. “Fine. Now?”
Wreck laughed. “Non. Non, this time I will win fair and square. I will have earned my belt, and to do that, you need to be in top fighting shape. I will let your shoulder heal, let you recover. At the end of that time, we will have a rematch.”
I nodded. “Glad we have that settled. Now give me my brothers.”
“Non,” said Wreck.
I was getting a little tired of his French. I kinda wanted to punch him in the mouth. Tell him we were in America, and in America, we spoke ’merican.
“I gave you what you wanted,” I pointed out.
“Not enough. We’ll keep them.”
“For how much longer?”
“As long as it takes,” he said, looking down at Rory and Zack. They glared right back up at him, and I imagined what he was trying to say, what he meant, was that he’d keep them, and torture them, as long as it took to break them. To make them truly sorry.
Ha! When Hell freezeth over. He didn’t have that much time left in his life, let alone in this little vacation of his. And he might’ve been a truly excellent fighter, but his torture methods appeared to be lacking. They weren’t sinister enough. They lacked the psychological edge, the darkness and fear it would take to get through to my brothers. Physical discomfort, they could take
till the end of time. Rory with more whining, but still.
“I propose an alternative!” Rory said suddenly.
I frowned at him. So did Wreck.
“An alternative to a fight,” he said hastily. “A competition between you, let the best man win.”
“But not a fight,” Wreck said.
“Correct,” Rory said, getting excited because it seemed the Frenchman was listening. “A man-off,” he said.
There were sucked-in breaths from the men gathered ’round.
“A what?” I demanded, already pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer.
“A man-off. A contest to see which of you is the most masculine, the most virile,” Rory announced.
“Oh for the love of—Rory, shut your trap. You’re taking this manliness shit way too far.”
Wreck held up his hand. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”
“You and J.D. do a series of challenges, with us as the judges, and whoever comes out on top is the manlier man. And wins,” he added, which judging by Wreck’s reaction, was definitely the magic word.
The whole notion was ridiculous, but even more ridiculous: “You two as judges? I can’t even imagine a worse pair,” I scoffed.
“Well, us, with consultation from the neighborhood, of course.” Rory was eyeing Wreck, seeing his hesitation. “But you’re right, we’d be biased toward our baby brother. And J.D.’s lived here most of his life, hunting and fishing, so he’s got a natural edge.”
Wreck continued to look undecided.
Rory sighed heavily. “You’re right, he’d probably win.”
“Non,” Wreck insisted, getting sucked right into my brother’s manipulative bullshit.
I was shaking my head. “No, no. You don’t want to do this,” I told Wreck. “All of their ‘plans’ end in destruction—”
“J.D., hush. The men are talking,” Rory said. And to Wreck: “I totally understand if you choose to bow out. You’d be outclassed. J.D. is an Alaskan, after all.”
Wreck drew himself up. “But I am French. I accept your challenge. I will prove myself more of a man than your dishonorable brother.”
“Now, wait a minute.” I hadn’t agreed to this. I wouldn’t agree to this.
“J.D., should we tell him about that time we caught you in Helly’s purple dress? No? What about that time you thought you got your period? Or—”
I felt myself changing colors. Red, first. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said. Not of a mentally-challenged, mostly-naked guy tied to a chair, no way, no how. “You can’t make me—”
Rory talked over me. “How about that time we caught you with a Ziploc bag of macaroni?”
Then, white. “You wouldn’t.”
Wreck looked on with interest.
“It was one of those days when we were all out of the house. Zack and I had football, the parents had taken us. Helly was out with her friend Suzy, and it was just J.D. at home. J.D., with nothing but time, his imagination—”
“And a bag of macaroni and cheese,” Zack said.
“Practice got out early due to rain, and we wanted to hang out with our little brother. So we ran up to his room, and we found… We found…” Rory raised his brows, playing verbal chicken with me.
I broke. “Fine! Fine, I’m in. Just shut your fat, fucking mouths, you assholes.”
They were both grinning at me, identical wide smiles of triumph, and I almost jumped on them and beat them bloody while they were tied up.
“You know what?” I said to Wreck. “You can have them.” I turned away.
“No. Wait!” Rory called. “You can’t leave us. He might kill us.”
“He’s not gonna kill you,” I said, still walking. Murder charges would surely put a damper on Wreck’s fighting career. Plus, it was against the Hippocratic Oath.
“But he’ll hurt us,” Rory whined.
“Good,” I grunted, about to round the corner of the cabin.
“He might shove something up our butts!” Rory cried, sounding close to panic.
That, finally, made me stop. I turned around as Zack berated our brother for giving their torturer ideas.
I inspected Wreck’s expression. He appeared to be trying to keep a straight face. “Do you intend to shove something up their butts?” I asked.
“Non.”
“He might not intend, but what if he decides to later, or has one of his goons—”
“Will anything be shoved up my brothers’ butts, while they are in your care?”
Wreck had turned his back so my brothers couldn’t see his face twist with helpless mirth. “Non. We will only do good, clean torture.”
“J.D., he might not ‘shove’. He might slip, or poke, or insert.”
“We will not be putting anything up their butts, in any manner,” Wreck said. “Any of us.”
“J.D., don’t leave us!” God, Rory was pathetic. He had the nerve to school me in the fine art of manliness, and just look at him. Sadly, the show he was putting on did tug my heartstrings, just a little.
“How long do you plan on keeping them?” I asked.
“We will most likely tire of this by tonight.”
“You’ll return them to their cabin after?”
“When we are done with them, oui.”
“And they’ll have all their fingers and toes?”
“No body parts missing or permanently damaged, oui.”
“Okay then,” I said with a nod. “Have fun.”
Chapter Twenty
J.D.
I wasn’t real sure how we’d gotten to this point, but it was really, solidly driven home that we had… when Rory hit a gong. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first annual Kuskana River man-off!”
Wreck and I exchanged a glance. True to his word, he’d brought my brothers home last night, and not too terribly worse for wear. I bet he was regretting that now.
My brothers had set up a table out front of the bar. They’d called Ed to organize a party, and Suzy’d called to spread the word about free food, and Thea’d thought it all sounded like fun, and… here we were, along with most of the neighborhood. Thea stood next to me, nibbling on one of her grandfather’s famous ribs.
“First challenge: Grooming, dress, and general appearance,” Zack said, reading the items off a scroll.
Rory peered at me. “J.D… You look like a slob,” he announced.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at them.
Wreck had puffed up, obviously thinking he had this one in the bag.
“But, Pierre,” Rory continued, “your style is way too girly-man. Your colors coordinate too well, your use of synthetics makes the manly community shudder, and… we saw you wearing a scarf.”
There were a few titters from the women.
Wreck gasped. “Synthetics? I never—”
“Your pants. They’re polyester.”
“Non!” Wreck cried.
“Docking you for your drama,” Zack murmured. Nodding, Rory scribbled on the pad in front of him.
Wreck looked furious. “These pants are silk.”
“You came to a man-off wearing silk pants?” Rory asked. Both of my brothers stared at him as though he were a strange insect. I felt for him… almost.
“Oui.”
The crowd murmured.
Shaking his head, Rory jotted a note. “Take off your shirts,” he ordered.
We should have just beaten the hell out of each other, I thought. Wreck’s expression said he might’ve agreed.
“Shirts, gentlemen,” Dotty said, her tone impatient.
With a silent groan, I yanked mine over my head. I was gratified to hear a few feminine sounds of approval.
While Wreck undid his cuffs, I helped Thea with the barbecue sauce on her lower lip. After all, what were friends for?
Wreck was on his second button when Rory began commentating. “Points for a no-nonsense removal,” he said, nodding to me.
“But I do so enjoy the tease,” Dotty said, eyes rivet
ed to what Wreck was doing with his buttons.
Rory sniffed. “Men do not tease.”
“Bullshit,” someone coughed.
I winked at Thea, who grinned as her cheeks turned pink.
“Points for making a woman blush,” Rory muttered. “Oh wow,” he said as he looked up.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“Now that’s a hairy chest,” Dotty breathed.
I glanced over, and acknowledged that Wreck did have quite the pelt under his shirt. He must wax for his fights. But, the real question was: Why was Rory scribbling?
“So?” I asked.
“Hairy chests are manly,” Zack informed me.
“Indicative of high testosterone levels,” Rory agreed.
“Oh, what-the-fuck-ever.” It was official: My brothers were insane. I got the distinct feeling the locals had turned out to witness the sideshow. They wanted to get that little thrill of danger, the adrenaline high that accompanied a close brush with death/disaster/destruction. Out in the crowd, I saw money changing hands. The neighbors could have been betting on which of us—Wreck or I—would win, but I thought it more likely they were betting what Zack and Rory would destroy today, and when.
Rory cleared his throat. “Without further ado… Pierre, you are the winner of this round.”
“What?!”
“Round two,” he said, ignoring me. “Applied lifting. So, we were thinking of giving you a plain old weight-lifting challenge, but then we thought, ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ It’s how the strength is applied that’s important,” Rory said. “Today, you will prove your ability to be the man of the house, to please your woman—”
“To move shit,” Zack grunted.
“Yes, thank you, Zack. Eloquently put. Heavy shit,” Rory agreed. “As you can see, you will have three pieces of furniture apiece. A lamp, a bedside table, and a mattress. Each of you will be moving your items into a bedroom upstairs. The first to get all three in wins, and points will be deducted for damage.”
I didn’t want to wrangle a mattress up some stairs. What I wanted was to strangle Rory. Or, smear barbecue sauce all over Thea’s front and lick it off. Or have her massage my shoulder while I played video games… Hey, a man could dream.