Sean watched him line up his weapons on the table. Jesse didn't look at him again, or acknowledge his presence in any way. After about five minutes, Sean stretched out on the bed with his back to the older man. He fell asleep to the sound of the falling rain.
He was roused from a deep sleep by the basso profundo snarl of Jesse's truck pulling away from the cabin. Gray light spilled through the blinds on the window. He tried to sit up, with every intention of grabbing his clothes and following as best he could on foot. Jesse couldn't go more than a few miles an hour on the back roads in this weather. He could catch up—maybe jump into the bed of the truck and hide. It was worth a shot.
But his right wrist refused to follow him into a sitting position. He yanked on it without thinking, and heard the rattle of metal against the brass headboard. He looked. He swore, long and loud.
He was handcuffed to the bed.
On the pillow next to him lay a torn scrap of yellowed newspaper. Scrawled across it, in what looked like black grease, was one word.
Sorry.
Chapter Six
Jesse cursed the mud. He cursed the rain that made the mud, and he cursed the clouds that produced the rain. And he fought the wheel of the truck while he cursed, trying to keep the fucking thing on the road, because he couldn't push it out of a ditch all by himself, could he? And that? Would suck.
He glanced at the shoebox on the seat beside him, wishing for the tenth time he'd put the damn thing in the bed of the truck. Or not brought it back at all. But he'd felt such gut-ripping guilt when he looked inside and realized...
Carefully, keeping his eyes on the road, he lifted the box and eased it beneath the seat for safekeeping. Then he checked his watch. Two hours since the planned meeting time. Two hours since Sanchez stood him up, leaving the box as a message of intent. A pretty large window as these things went, and if Paco had somehow figured out where Jesse'd stashed Sean...
Another ten minutes to the cabin. Five minutes more to get Sean and the non-perishable supplies into the back of the truck. An hour to make it to a major highway headed east, and the window for Paco and his little army of thugs would only get bigger with every passing minute.
He gunned the motor as he pulled up next to the cabin, hoping to alert Sean to his presence. The younger man was likely to be seriously unhappy with him for leaving him cuffed to the bed, but he could talk himself out of that. Jesse'd faced down angry men before and come out smiling. He jumped out of the truck, unlocked the door of the cabin, and stepped inside.
The lamp missed his head by maybe an inch.
All right. So Sean was more than just seriously unhappy.
"You bastard. You filthy, lying piece of shit."
"Sean—"
"Don't run your mouth at me. Just get over here and unlock these cuffs so I can beat the ever-loving shit out you, Bonham."
Jesse sighed and ran his hand over his face. “We don't have time for this. We have to—"
"Shut up and get over here."
Jesse approached the bed, fishing the key to the cuffs from his pocket as he moved. “You need to back off on the freak-out for now. I promise I'll explain everything—"
The younger man's bare, size fourteen foot caught him just below his sternum, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him double up in pain.
"You promise me? You're kidding, right?” Sean rattled the handcuffs and snarled at him. “Let me go, and then get outta my way, or I swear I'll beat you bloody."
Jesse lifted his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.” He leaned over and unlocked the cuff attached to the bed, allowing Sean to sit up. Then he opened the one still affixed to Sean's wrist. He stepped away fast, pocketing the cuffs and the key.
Sean was off the bed and dressed in a blur of motion. He'd turned and was headed for the door without a backward glance when Jesse tackled him, bringing him down hard on the pine floorboards. Jesse knotted his fingers in his curls and yanked his head backward. “Listen to me, you little prick. This isn't a game. The meeting didn't happen, and we need get out of here before—"
"Before what? Are the cops coming? Because have I got a story for—"
Jesse cut him off by tightening his fist around Sean's hair and knocking the side of his head against the floor. “I wish it was the cops, believe me. But I've got every reason to believe Paco either knows where we are or is within hours of finding out."
"And you're going to run? And here I thought you were such a tough guy."
Jesse's entire body felt knotted with frustration. He closed his eyes, took a breath and let his hand slide from Sean's hair to the back of his neck. His pressed his palm against the skin and opened himself to what Sean was feeling.
Anger-betrayal-anger-betrayal blinked like a beacon. Beneath it Jesse could sense hurt-shame-hurt pulsing in counterpoint, and under that a weariness bordering on exhaustion. He could appreciate that. He was pretty damned tired himself.
"Sean,” he said, keeping his voice soft, “I really thought I was protecting you by keeping you here. I was wrong. It was a boneheaded move. I'm sorry.” He didn't add that if everything had gone according to plan, Manny would've shown up before nightfall to let Sean loose and drive him back to Santa Rosa.
Sean's body continued to vibrate with emotion. Jesse worked his fingers into the muscles at the back of Sean's neck and whispered, “I'll drive. You sleep. And you can beat the shit out of me later. But we need to go now."
The younger man remained silent another few seconds. Then he shoved backward, dislodging Jesse's hold on him. “Get off me."
They stood and faced each other. Jesse knew the next move was his to make. He reached out to lay a hand on Sean's shoulder.
Sean flinched away. “No. Don't touch me. You don't get to do that, not after..."
Jesse let it go with a quick nod. They were alive, and he intended to see they stayed that way. If whatever had been building between them was the price he had to pay, then so be it.
"Use the bathroom before you get in the truck, kid. We don't have time for pit-stops."
* * * *
They were fifty miles east of Kenwood and headed for the California-Nevada border when Sean felt calm enough to speak again.
"What's our destination?"
Jesse shrugged. “Someplace out-of-the-way."
"Not Mexico?"
"Not yet. Sanchez isn't stupid. He'll expect me to head south or go north to Canada. And he'll have people looking for the truck."
Sean turned in the seat to face the older man. “They why not ditch the truck? And while we're at it, why the hell are we running in the first place?"
Jesse glanced at him, quick and cold. “Paco didn't show up for the meeting. I waited a good hour."
"Yeah? So?"
Jesse looked at him again, longer this time. “I've got a buddy who works at the plant—"
"Let me guess—another ex-con?"
Jesse smirked, but didn't answer the question. “I set it up with him so I could take Paco out from a rooftop across the street as he entered through a side door of the main building."
Sean nodded. “Right, the rifle. It was never really a meeting at all. It was an assassination."
"Whatever you wanna call it, kid. The point is, he didn't show, but one of his employees did. I watched him go inside carrying something. He came out about two minutes later, empty handed."
Sean frowned. This shouldn't be so hard to follow. “And?"
"And I went inside and found what he'd left.” Jesse leaned down, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, and produced a shoebox from beneath the seat. He set it between himself and Sean. “What's in this box proves Paco's got a better set of informants than I gave him credit for. He probably knew I was gunning for him long before you and I met."
Sean reached for the lid of the box. Jesse's hand came down on his. “I wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because you're a nice kid. Still got some shine left on you. There's no reason to knock it off bef
ore you have to."
Sean felt the anger returning. “Don't patronize me, you son of a—"
Jesse lifted his hand in apparent surrender. “Fine, go ahead. But you'd better not mess up my truck."
What the hell did that mean? Sean curled his fingers around the edge of the box's lid and lifted.
Inside, arranged on a bed of smudged white tissue paper, lay an ear. It was a pale, waxy brown—like the petals of a dying flower—and attached to the lobe was a long, dangly silver earring encrusted with blood.
Sean returned the lid to the box and shoved it toward Jesse. “How ... who...?” He closed his mouth and ground his teeth together against the sudden churning of his stomach.
"It belongs to a woman named LaNay. She's the one who told me where to find you."
"You mean the whore?"
Jesse looked at him from the corner of his eye. “You might wanna watch your mouth, considering she's probably dead."
Sean banged his head against the window-glass. “We are so fucked."
Jesse laughed, short and sharp. “Have a little faith, kid. He has to catch us first.” He sat up straight in his seat, the confidence in his voice belied by his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. The truck picked up speed, heading toward the desert.
Five hours later, they stopped for gas. Sean felt groggy and sick. He stepped out of the truck to stretch his legs. “Where are we?"
"Winnemucca, Nevada. About four hundred miles east of Santa Rosa.” Jesse didn't look at him.
"How much further?"
"Not very. I want the truck gassed up and ready to go, in case we need to haul ass on short notice."
Sean nodded and pushed off from the fender of the truck, intending to head for the restroom.
"Where're you going?"
"I need to...” He made a vague gesture, suddenly—stupidly—embarrassed.
"Not here. It's bad enough anybody who's seen us is gonna remember the truck. We don't need them giving a description of a six-foot-four giant wandering around the place.” Jesse glanced at him for the first time in hours. “We'll stop alongside the road in a while. I promise not to peek."
"Great. Just beautiful.” Sean got back into the truck and slammed the door behind him.
Jesse joined him a few seconds later. “Look, kid—"
"No, you look. I didn't ask for this. I don't want to be here.” He scrubbed a sweaty hand over his face and sighed. “In fact, I don't understand why I'm here at all. You could've gone without me—that was the plan. You didn't have to take me with you. I would've been fine."
"You think so, huh?"
"Yeah, I do."
"All right. Tell you what ... here's my phone.” Jesse held the cell out across the seat. “You go on ahead and call Paco. Tell him to come and get you. I'll even give you some cash so you can get cleaned up and have a meal while you wait for him to show."
Sean swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and sticky. “I don't have to call Paco. I could call—"
"Who? Your buddy Frankie? Because what Frankie really needs in his life is this kind of excitement, right?” Jesse's tone had an edge sharp enough to flay Sean's face. “And when you get back to Santa Rosa, you can tell Paco all about how you escaped big, bad Bonham, and how you're so happy to be back in his loving arms. And Paco? He'll throw you a party. Because he's a trusting, good-natured guy like that."
As much as Sean hated to admit it, even to himself, the man had a point. The chances of Paco believing Sean hadn't been in on Jesse's planned execution were fifty-fifty at best. He'd be taking his life in his hands if he returned to Santa Rosa now. And his brother ... God only knew what would happen to Bobby, whether Sean went back or not.
"Man, you really screwed me over good.” He'd meant for it to sound cold and angry, but it came out scared and a little awed by the sheer misery of his current position.
Jesse's mouth thinned to a grim line. “Tell me something I don't know."
They didn't speak again ‘til they were twenty miles outside of Winnemucca, on Route 80. Jesse pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway and cut the engine. He didn't look at or speak to Sean.
Sean took this as his cue to get out and relieve himself. The pale, flat sky made him squint, and the late-winter wind blew the dust of the Great Basin desert in swirls around him. He shut his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe.
Jesse joined him on the passenger-side of the truck a few seconds later. The older man leaned against the fender and passed Sean a bottle of lukewarm water without comment. They stood together, sipping the water and staring out at the stark terrain.
After a few minutes, Sean looked at him and said, “I know you didn't mean to screw up my life. I know you only meant to—"
Jesse cut him off with a glare. “You don't know shit. Don't pretend you do. It only makes both of us look stupid.” He pushed off the fender and circled around to the driver-side door without waiting for a reply.
Sean barely refrained from punching the truck's side-view mirror.
Jesse drove another ten miles, ‘til the outline of a cluster of small buildings appeared on the horizon. As they got closer, Sean made out a sign: Great Basin Stop ‘N’ Stay. Beneath the faded lettering was a half-lit neon blinking VACANCY.
Jesse pulled around back to park in the empty lot. “Stay here while I check it out."
Sean shrugged. “You're the boss, Mr. Bonham, sir."
Jesse rolled his eyes, his expression sour. He got out of the truck.
Sean waited five minutes, then another ten. He felt his breathing accelerate, along with his heart rate, as the seconds trickled down to pile on top of one another. What if Paco had been waiting for them? What if, even now, he had a gun to Jesse's head?
"Fuck this.” He opened the glove box. The .45 was in its accustomed place, along with the flask. He chose the latter, twisting off the cap and chugging before he could think better of it. Then he reached for the gun.
It was forty steps around the far end of the building, then another twenty to the motel office. He held the gun behind him, wondering in the back of his mind if he'd even have the balls to use it.
Jesse quirked an eyebrow at Sean when he opened the office door and found the older man waiting patiently for his credit card to be approved.
"You get bored, buddy?” Jesse narrowed his eyes, his gaze plainly caught by the way Sean kept one hand concealed behind him. Then he turned to smile at the gray-haired, wizened woman behind the counter. “My brother. No patience, you know? Comes from watching too much TV."
The woman had no reaction other than to hand Jesse his card along with a key to the room. Jesse nodded and wished her a good day. The next instant he was hustling Sean out of the office double-time, swearing a long, filthy streak beneath his breath.
They were around the other side of the building before he grabbed Sean by the front of his jacket and glared up into his face. “What the fuck is the matter with you? I told you to stay in the truck."
"Who the hell takes fifteen minutes to get a room? I thought you were in trouble."
Jesse blinked at him as if he were startled by Sean's words. Then he smirked. “And you were gonna do what? Save me? That's real sweet, kid."
"Yeah, laugh it up, asshole.” He dropped the .45 into Jesse's outstretched hand and tried to ignore the way his own fingers trembled.
"You left the safety on again.” Jesse held up the gun and showed him. “See? Off. On. Like that."
Sean nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Once they'd unloaded truck and filled the motel room's single closet with the supplies—bottled water, various kinds of beef jerky, several large bags of off-brand chips and a box of assorted cupcakes—Sean sat on the end of one of the two beds and looked around. Nicer than Manuel's cabin, but not by much. And no TV. Yeah, this was gonna suck.
"How long are we here for?"
Jesse shrugged. “That depends."
"On what?"
"On what Manny tells me whe
n I call him next week."
"Next week?” Sean bolted off the bed and paced a circle around the room. “You're kidding me, right? I have a job, I have classes—"
"What d'you want me to say? I'm sorry.” There was a note in Jesse's voice that Sean didn't quite recognize. Pain? Shame? Guilt?
Sean watched him as he rummaged in the duffel bag and came up with clean socks and underwear. “If you don't want the first shower—"
"No, go ahead,” Sean said. “But answer one question first, will you?"
Jesse frowned. “Well?"
Sean took a breath, unsure how to phrase it. “I just want to know ... why. Why you'd risk going back to prison. Why you'd risk dying. And why you'd ruin a stranger's life—my life—just to take out Paco."
The older man shrugged. “Just crazy, I guess.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom without another word.
Sean resisted the urge to pick up a lamp and throw it at the closing door. He made another circuit around the room. The frustration that churned in his gut took all his attention, and he barely noticed his surroundings. Until...
There, on top of Jesse's duffel. He'd left the .45, just lying there. Like he didn't have the slightest fear Sean would pick it up and blast him full of holes. Part of him wanted to be happy about that—it meant the older man trusted him, right? But a larger part thought maybe it had less to do with trust, and more to do with Jesse not seeing him as any kind of threat. Not even with a loaded gun within easy reach.
He walked over and picked up the weapon. Practiced flicking the safety on and off. Held it out in front of him, in imitation of how he'd seen a thousand cops on a hundred cop shows do it. Then he opened the duffel and picked through it until he found the handcuffs.
He had time to figure out the best place to stand. Minutes to come up with something to say that didn't sound stupid, but left no doubt he was serious. And he wasn't crazy-scared, like he'd been the first night in the cabin, either. Plus, he didn't want to hurt Jesse this time. Just wanted to take him by surprise, catch him off-guard. Let him know what it felt like.
He was positioned between the bed and the bathroom door when Jesse emerged, clutching a towel around his hips.
Phaze Fantasies, Vol. III Page 24