Tank’s hesitation was like a stab, but Clover stayed silent, telling himself that this was an extremely difficult situation for his Daddy. Not only because he felt responsible for Clover’s safety, but also because they were life partners. Not to mention that Tank wasn’t used to having his orders dismissed.
Halfway down the well of dismay, Tank’s warm hand touched Clover’s. When their fingers entwined, Clover could breathe again. “I promise I will do as you tell me while we’re on the job. Even stay in the car when you tell me to,” he said, keeping his voice to a whisper, because he wanted that part to stay between them. “But I really wanted to make this first step.”
Tank’s fingers held his more tightly, but he wouldn’t look away from the road as they drove through a landscape of grassy hills toward the coordinates provided by their client. It was already dark, and Clover tried hard to ignore the spookiness of cattle eyes reflecting their headlights, because if Tank found out he was scared of cows, tonight’s work would be over for Clover before it even began.
“I’m trying to look at the bigger picture, Clover. You are only one side of that dice. In case of any danger you might be in, our performance will be affected too.”
Clover swallowed that harsh truth, because it was frighteningly accurate. “I won’t let you down.”
Tank glanced at him with a frown marring his forehead, but they could already see their destination ahead. The black truck parked on the side of the empty road blinked with its emergency lights, and when their contact confirmed his presence this way, reality hit Clover with ants crawling up his arms and legs, only to settle in his stomach and provoke cramps.
So this was it. Tonight, he’d be a part of a crew that helped to transport something illegal. And if he was lucky, things would go ‘as expected’, and he wouldn’t get to see any action. Drake assured him that most jobs like this one posed very little challenge. That was the glass-half-full view on the topic while Tank was clearly of the glass-half-empty persuasion, since he was too focused on the tiniest possibility of someone attacking their little convoy to think about numbers.
“Best don’t talk to him, unless it’s something simple, like greeting him. Don’t disclose any information regarding our location or anything that could help anyone find us,” Tank said as he slowed down and parked the van on the side of the road, a couple of steps behind the small truck.
“Showtime,” Pyro said from the back.
Clover was set on doing things right. No bravado. No stupid comments. He was far too stressed for that anyway, but he didn’t want to fuel Tank’s nerves by admitting that.
Their employer, or more likely, their employer’s driver, stood by the sturdy black vehicle smoking a cigarette, his face hidden behind smoke and shadows. Clover stayed behind, even pulling on a hood for good measure, but he was intent on inhaling every word, every smell, and gesture.
Drake opened the rear door of their van, and soon enough, everyone spilled outside, gravitating toward the driver in a dense crowd.
“Flats? All four of them?” Tank asked.
The man stepped away from his truck and faced them with hands pushed down his pockets, the cigarette dangling from his mouth like an I-don’t-give-a-fuck banner. Clover couldn’t see much of his face yet, with the weak light only reaching his goatee and lips while a hood kept the rest of his face shadowed.
“Just the one. But I have a friend in Leicester who’s coming to get me,” the man said.
The unusual nature of this conversation told Clover that it was likely a code both sides used to confirm their identities, because Tank shook the driver’s hand once those two sentences have been exchanged.
“You’re on time. Good,” the guy said before pushing down the hood that had obscured his features.
He didn’t look like a hardened criminal. With his short hair, forgettable face and body, he was the embodiment of an average Joe, and while Clover knew from experience how little such things meant when assessing danger, it made the driver more inconspicuous and easier to confuse with hundreds other guys with similar features.
“Always,” Drake said, stopping at Clover’s left flank, so close the side of his foot touched Clover’s.
It was the last thing Clover should’ve been paying attention to, but it did make him warm all over that Drake remained alert and ready to help if needed.
“I’m Pete,” the man introduced himself. A fake name surely, but it still gave the interaction the pretence of normalcy. “I can’t tell you the final destination, but we’ll be heading off to Boise first. I was told you’ve got a motorcycle with you?” He scanned them all, but Clover’s heart skipped a beat when Pete’s gaze lingered on him a bit too long.
“We do. It’s in the back of the van,” Tank said before introducing them all with numbers, which had been assigned to each member of their crew according to the time of joining. So much for normalcy, but Pete didn’t comment and reached into his pocket, producing a chunky, old-fashioned phone of the type Clover most often saw in memes about their apparent indestructibility.
“Maybe it’s better if you put it to use. Would give us flexibility in case of any trouble.”
“How likely is trouble?” Tank asked in a steady voice that made Clover cringe regardless. He could only hope that once he’d accompanied them several times, the worries Tank harbored would become history.
Pete shrugged. “Unlikely. Out of all the runs I’ve done, there only have been issues three times, two of those with law enforcement, so we should be good. Why? Do any of you have a headaches or something?” he asked with grin, but his gaze gravitated to Clover. “You got a girl with you?”
Clover wasn’t prepared for anyone touching him without asking first, but when Pete pushed at Clover’s hood, he slapped his hand away, shocked at the audacity of the guy. “I’m not a woman, dumbass!”
Pete raised his hands, but his grin stiffened ever-so-slightly when the hood fell back, revealing Clover’s face. “My bad. It’s the long hair,” he said, even though Drake’s wasn’t short either. He took a deep breath, and his gaze darted across their whole group in a flash.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Tank said in a level tone. He appeared calm, but there was an underlying quality to his voice that had Clover’s back crawling with bugs. Something in the atmosphere shifted, and even Drake leaned that bit closer, as if he wanted to become a wall between Clover and Pete.
“I hope that’s not the kind of cargo you’re having us guard. We don’t do that,” Boar said in a low voice.
Pete shook his head and pulled out another phone, this one a much newer model. “Nothing like it, boys, chill. I’m just letting my employer know you’ve arrived, and we’ll be off. You a natural albino, or is this like… a fashion statement?” Pete asked, eyeing Clover from above the device.
Drake scowled. “What is wrong with you? Fuck off from our boy and let’s get going.”
“Oh! ‘Your boy’?” Pete grinned. “Now I get why he’s here, all pretty and fresh-faced. Are you that gay merc crew I keep hearing about?”
Clover pushed at Pete’s chest, unable to contain his rage any longer. “That’s not why I’m here! I’m here to do the job, like everyone else!”
Pete didn’t answer, but his eyes said, Of course you are, in a mocking tone that rang in Clover’s head. But his mouth was more civil and kept his real thoughts behind a curtain.
“Okay, guys. Let’s just get on with it, shall we? No hard feelings. The motorcycle?” Pete asked, dismissing the whole thing as if he hadn’t touched one of them without permission. What the hell?
“Not until you fucking apologize first!” Seemingly out of nowhere, Pyro shoved Pete so hard the guy’s shoulder hit the truck, and his smartphone dropped to the asphalt.
Clover’s mind went blank when a photo of him glitched to life on the screen for half a second. Tank telling Pyro to back off was a blur when Clover’s heart started beating furiously, as if itching to break free from the confines of his ribcage.
“One?” he said in a high pitch he resented. “One? He took my photo! I saw a photo of me on there!”
Pete’s face twisted in the sparse light, and he reached back, his entire body rigid like a cobra’s before it struck. Drake smashed into him like a truck, climbed on top, and forced the bastard under him with a hold that had Pete howling in pain.
“No, look, I just… I’m gay too. He’s a pretty boy, okay?” Pete stuttered out, but nobody listened to his claims. Drake hooked Pete’s throat with one arm and forced him to rise to his knees while Boar searched the subdued man, retrieving two firearms.
Tank picked up the phone, but wasn’t satisfied after trying to switch it on. “Fingerprint recognition? Really?”
His broad back was a wall Clover was safe behind. “Fine. If you’re gay, show me your phone. I’ll delete the photo myself.”
Pete sucked in air, his gaze moving frantically, as if he wanted to assess how much damage each of them could inflict. “Come on. This is unnecessary. Sorry for being a shit. I’m not the nicest guy around, I know.”
Clover wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, but all four of his men were dead serious. Tank kneeled next to Pete without a word, but when he tried to grab the bastard's hand, Pete shrieked and twisted in Drake’s hold. “No. If you do this, you’re dead. My boss will go after you. I mean it! There is confidential information on there.”
But nobody was fucking around anymore. Tank yanked at Pete’s hand, and the strange crack that followed had Pete shaking. Tank scanned his thumb.
Clover awaited Tank’s verdict with a hollowness in his skull. He stood with fists clenched, ignoring Pete’s wrestling match with Drake, because he doubted Drake needed help when dealing with a guy like Pete.
Tank’s frown deepened as he searched through the device, but the way his chest expanded when he sucked in too much air pushed Clover down the darkest well.
Tank turned the phone toward Pete, showing an exchange of messages that ended with the photo. “DARWIN? Who’s that?”
Clover was so overwhelmed by fear that his feet froze to the ground, but Pyro took the phone out of Tank’s hand and looked at the screen, which lit up his face with an eerie white glow. “Is that your albino?” he read out before raising his head again.
No. This can’t be happening. Not again.
Drake’s cheeks hollowed when he pulled out his favorite blade. “I’m going to enjoy making you talk!”
Pete smashed his elbow into Drake’s side so suddenly he managed to twist out of the one-handed hold. He bolted to the other side of the road. He wouldn’t stand a chance in a race against Drake, who bared his teeth, a snake about to strike.
An enormous white light came out of nowhere, and the air filled with the roar of a horn. Drake took a rapid step back, and the grille of the upcoming truck slammed into Pete at full speed.
Chapter 4 – Tank
Tank’s thoughts were a junkyard on a dark, rainy night—messy, dangerous, and with no way out in sight. The bright lights of the police car kept agitating his nerves, but at least he wasn’t the one being questioned. Boar already lied to the police that Pete had stopped them moments before the accident, claiming that someone was after him before running straight under the wheels of the truck.
The poor driver sat in the back of the police car, in tears since he’d seen the ambulance crew transport Pete’s corpse to the back of their vehicle.
But the fact that they’d be on their way soon did not erase the fact that someone was still on the lookout for Clover.
Taking him on this job had been such a supremely bad idea.
On the other hand, at least they were no longer in the dark about the danger. They had a phone, a number, a code name. Who could be searching for their boy though if the crazy human zoo woman had been eliminated?
“Can we track down the phone number of this Darwin guy?” Clover asked, biting his nail. In the darkness, his pale face got a blue tint each time the emergency lights reached it, giving it an eerie glow.
Tank shut his eyes and counted to five. He wanted to shower Clover with I-told-you-sos, but the hunched shoulders made him squeeze the boy’s arm instead. “I’ll see what we can do once we’re back. But the picture’s already out. Whatever happens, you’re staying home from now on. We can’t have you walking around where anybody involved could spot you by chance and message this person!”
Clover’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, eyes getting glossy. “I’m not staying on my own in the woods. Anything could happen there. I’m sick of always being hunted for something that’s not my choice or fault.”
He was talking too loudly, and Drake, who stood closer to the policemen gestured for them to be quiet. At least he wasn’t here, defending Clover from being bullied into safety.
“But you are, and we’ve got to work with reality, not your expectations. I told you this was a bad idea, but you didn’t trust my judgment. And here we are,” Tank growled.
Clover clenched his fists, but at least he took a deep breath before speaking. Quietly this time. “Bad luck. This could have gone well if we were to work with anyone else.”
Tank’s teeth gritted until the pressure on his jaw became noticeable and he had to make himself open his mouth to relieve it. “You lost your cool. That’s the biggest issue here. You acted on impulse because he thought you were a girl? Boo-hoo. If I got a cent for every single time someone called me a fag, I’d have them piling up in the corner. We’re dealing with life and death situations in this line of work. People who carry guns and actually use them. This isn’t a spat in the school yard.”
Clover looked away. “Really? You wanna tell me you never punched someone because they were offensive to you?”
Tank’s head boiled. He was thirty-nine, and this boy demanded he explained himself. Ridiculous.
He squeezed Clover’s shoulder and led him behind the van, where the flashing lights wouldn’t be as much of a nuisance. “Of course I did. And you know what? Experience is what tells you when you should demand respect and when you ought to shut up! Right now, you’ve got the experience of a newborn kitten, so it’s a good policy to keep your thoughts to yourself around clients. If you’re really keen on revenge, bide your time until you know it is achievable.”
“Pyro lashed out too.”
Tank couldn’t believe the childish pout on Clover’s face. He’d overestimated the boy’s maturity. “After you provoked the guy.”
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have known he sent my photo to someone.”
“If you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have sent it in the first place, because you wouldn’t have been here.”
Clover stepped back, his throat working as he studied Tank in silence. Of course he was upset. Like any kid who’d been told off for what they’ve done.
Tank took a deep breath, because there was no point in crying over spilt milk. He needed to look to the future first, and in this case, Clover’s attitude had to be addressed, and fast.
“Look, do you think I had it easy? I got where I am because I was smart with the limited resources I’ve had.”
Clover squinted at him. “You had family to fall back on.”
Tank shrugged. “My family was a constant source of problems. Many of them aren’t bad people, that’s true, but we were poor, and there was always too much moonshine in the house. What do you think other kids thought of me?”
Clover shrugged, refusing to meet Tank’s eyes. “That you’re the hot guy they wanna bang?”
Tank swallowed and rested both his hands on Clover’s shoulders. He didn’t often mention his humble beginnings, but Clover needed to understand where he was coming from.
“No. They thought I was trash. They called me Rag, because my clothes were often dirty, or had tears or patches. They would attack my family and constantly provoke me. And every single time I lashed out, it only convinced everyone I was on my way to juvie. My grandma always told me to ignore them, and back then I thought it was shitty adv
ice. But after it got me in some real trouble, I went with it. And you know what? It actually worked. It’s no fun to call another kid names when he doesn’t react to it.”
Clover took a deep breath through his nose. “So what? I’m supposed to just let some asshole call me your boy toy just ‘cause I’m small? It’s not fair, and it’s disrespectful to all of us.”
Tank cupped Clover’s face. “I’m sure you’ve learned in the twenty years you’ve lived that life isn’t fair. And respect is something you gotta earn. You’ve got mine, but you still lost a bit in my eyes by the way you lashed out. You promised me you’ll stay back, but when push came to shove, you didn’t. I’ve got to trust you if we’re to work together, and right now, I’m not sure I can.”
The hurt look in Clover’s eyes cut deep, but Tank wouldn’t let it show. The boy had to learn his lesson.
“But he’s a bad guy. I could see that. Anyone could see that,” Clover tried, grabbing at Tank’s wrist.
His fingers were delicate, and Tank couldn’t resist them. He exhaled, frustrated that getting through to Clover about this proved so hard. It certainly didn’t help that the boy was surrounded by enablers, who should know better.
“You never know who’s a bad guy. We had a deal that you stay back, and you haven’t kept that promise. The fact that we found something out because of it is just blind luck.”
Clover groaned, back to his attitude despite still touching Tank and standing close to him. “He was shady as fuck.”
Tank rolled his eyes. Was this what actual parents of teenagers had to deal with all the time? Thank fuck Clover was a good boy on most days, because in moments like this Tank was reminded how young Clover still was. “You know who else was shady as fuck when I met him? Your buddy Drake.”
Clover groaned. “What could he have possibly done to you? You met seven years ago, and he told me himself that at my age he was taller but not much bigger than me in terms of muscle.”
Tank sighed. Clover was calmer now, so maybe it would be easier to get through to his stubborn head. “Yeah, but he hit on me in a bar. That’s how we met. Nice guy. Handsome, even if not my usual type. And you know what happened next?”
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