Second Chance

by T L Dasha

  “You could just put him in the back seat or something.” I swallowed. Why did I say that?

  “I promise you’d rather have him in the trunk for this one.” The man gave my tail light a pat.

  “Oh okay.” My voice was void of emotion. I pressed the button on my remote, and the trunk popped open.

  “Can you lay down the tarp for me?” This suburban dad nodded toward his porch. A tarp was neatly folded on his patio chair. Something that didn’t seem terribly menacing until this moment. Yet again, I obeyed. Why, I couldn’t say. It felt too late to object, I guess. I spread out the tarp in my trunk, and he plunked the man on top with little mind. “Perfect, I didn’t want to make a mess of your beautiful car.”

  Another friendly pat on the shoulder. I just watched as the human being in my trunk squirmed and kicked and tried to scream. What the fuck is happening?!

  Mr. Rogers the Second leaned into my trunk, close enough to whisper in the hostage’s ear. In the silent night, I could hear every word with crystal clarity. “You knew better.”

  Then in one swift motion, faster than my brain could register, a knife twirled in the man’s well groomed fingers, then penetrated the captive’s stomach.

  I’ll always remember the sound of that muffled scream mixed with the slick blade sliding from his flesh. A deep red stain chased its way through the captive’s cotton shirt, inching its way to the tarp that protected my BMW.

  I stood wordlessly as he turned to me still with that look of cordial cheer. “Drive fast now, will you?”

  With that, he slammed shut the trunk and headed back inside his upscale suburban townhouse.

  ###

  “Fuck!” I hit the dash of my Mercedes with a balled fist. My tires screeched over blacktop as I threw myself around each corner. Faster and faster. Just skirting the guard rails. My tail lights illuminated the overgrown shrubs that lined the cliffs. What in the actual fuck is going on? Is this the kind of shit I’ve been transporting all along?

  Shift. Brake. Turn. No matter how hard I tried to focused on the task at hand, I couldn’t erase the mental image of a man bleeding out in my trunk. That letter, that brief case, that fucking ICE CHEST. I knew it. I knew there was something sketchy about it all. But I never thought it would go this far. I slammed the gas pedal to the floor through a long sweeping turn, then pulled the e-brake to drift into a hairpin.

  “Control the slide. Smooth is fast, Sebastian.” My dad’s voice played in my head, a vivid memory from all those years ago. All those days at the kart track, practicing and crashing, winning and making one too many mistakes. He thought I’d be in Formula 1. I just liked the feel of my tires gripping through the ring-ding-dinging of my two stroke gasser.

  My dad. The late and great Bartholomew Karas.

  Are these the same kind of people he was in bed with? Is this why we had to run that night? Why they chased him off that cliff? Is this why both of my parents are dead now and I had to take someone else’s name? And why did they always pause when they heard McClintock. What did Mark have to do with all of this? I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. And I thanked that fine-tuned muscle memory that was keeping me alive through every perilous turn of the Santa Monica mountains.

  The road tilted me downward toward sea level. The ocean drew a black line across the horizon, visible only because of the feint moonlight. A sharp left would take me onto PCH, and then it would be smooth sailing. There shouldn’t be too many cops at this hour. But I’ll slow down. The last thing I could afford to do was get pulled over with a fucking body in my trunk.

  The street lights reflected over the gloss black of my hood, sliding over the paint in streaks of white. So then who is Baek? Is this how ALIVE has kept funding all these years? Or maybe the better question is who is the man in my trunk, and what exactly did HE do to be here?

  I… I could ask him. No- what if he bleeds out because I’m taking too much time. Well… I guess I’m assuming whoever I’m delivering him too cares if he’s alive.

  I shook my head to dismiss the thought. I’m being ridiculous. If he dies in the trunk, it’s my fault. I won’t have that on my hands.

  You had better fucking kill that performance tomorrow, Brad.

  I arrived at the coordinates with ten minutes to spare. It was a small beachside home, standing over the ocean on a rocky ledge, with a tight two car garage that faced the road. The garage door opened almost as soon as I arrived, and I backed in with one swift motion, parking next to another black Mercedes that was nearly identical to mine.

  I popped the trunk the second the door had fully shut us off from the outside world. A man in all black greeted me. Dark hair, green eyes, a surfer’s build, tan complexion, maybe a little older than I was. He smiled at the fortunately still breathing and still bleeding man in my trunk.

  “You got here much faster than I expected. And you’re cuter than I expected. Christian was right about you.” He looked me square in the eye, then offered me a hand. “Where are my manners- It’s Andrea. Andrea Machiavelli. And no- no relation to the philosopher, unfortunately.”

  I shook his hand mechanically. “Right- Jay McClintock.” My eyes were inexplicably drawn to the man in the trunk. “Uh, he probably needs…”

  “Of course, of course!” Andrea clapped to himself. He turned to his door and called into the house. “Gio! Can you come down here?”

  In less than a minute, a large Italian man stepped into the compact garage. Without saying a word, he hoisted the still bleeding, nearly unconscious man over his shoulder and hauled him into the house.

  I blinked a few times in an attempt to process it all.

  “You know what they say,” Andrea’s voice penetrated the murk of my confusion, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I don’t think he’ll be playing any more games in the future.” He placed his hands on his hips and gave me a wide grin. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

  I was completely taken aback by the question. “No. I don’t believe so.” I feigned confidence, but Andrea continued to study my face.

  “Oh! you must be-” He cut himself short. I must be what? “Thank you for the help and discretion tonight, Jay McClintock. This won’t soon be forgotten.”

  “No problem…” The words sounded hollow even to me. As the garage door shut behind me, I didn’t know where to go. What to do. My mind was spinning in my skull. I pulled over at the first open stretch of beach, and just sat in my car, listening to nothing but the waves outside.

  My phone started buzzing in my pocket. I answered without even looking at the screen.

  “This is Jay.” My voice sounded in my ears with just enough soullessness to sound professional.

  “Like anyone else would ever be answering your phone.” Brad chuckled. I have never been more relieved and annoyed to hear his voice. I

  “Where the fuck are you?” It was as though just hearing the frequency of his voice was enough to snap me back into my rhythm.

  “So funny story-“

  “I’m not in the mood to laugh.” I scowled into the receiver.

  “Well, then amusement-neutral story. So one of my exes from my very brief stint in rodeo happened to have a sister who happened to be getting married today, and she just so happened to be a big fan.”

  “So, what, you’ve been fucking off and partying and banging the bridesmaids, when your entire career is on the line?” I didn’t even bother pretending I wasn’t mad anymore. He’s impossible. He’s selfish. He’s inconsiderate. And I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. Baek basically has me by the neck, I have no fucking clue what I’m getting involved with anymore, while Brad’s out fucking his ex without a care in the fucking world.

  “Well, when you put it that way…”

  “Please, by all means, how else should I put it?”

  “Maybe put it like ‘I’m out here winning over the entire rodeo community of Ventura County, and am basically guaranteed to have a packed show tomorrow.’ Then add in a ‘Thank you so much Brad!
’ and a ‘you’re amazing!’ and one of those ‘I’ll give you the best blow job of your life when this works out!’ and I think we have a more reasonable response.” One thing was for sure. In all this uncertainty, at least Brad was still Brad. “Oh, and since you still seem confused on this whole thing- no, I won’t stick my dick in anyone but you.”

  “Keep your voice down when you say that shit.”

  “Chill. There’s no one around.”

  I took a deep breath “Are you drunk?”

  “Maybeeeee…” He paused for a touch longer than an extended second. “How could you tell?”

  “Because you honestly thought telling me about this wedding thing would somehow excuse you for screening my calls.”

  “That’s a valid point.” Brad spoke thoughtfully, considering my words. “Well, why don’t you come pick me up, and I’ll make it up to you in other ways.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” I exhaled an exasperated sigh. “Text me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.”

  “Wait, in thirty?”

  I hung up the phone, not planning to explain further. He doesn’t need to know, I kept telling myself. It was as though Brad was both the refuge from my mistakes and the reason for them at the same time. And tonight, I just wanted him to be refuge.

  But at the same time, I still couldn’t shake a subtle anger in my gut. I’m sure there was a reason he felt it was a good idea to not tell me what he was planning. There had to be. We were supposed to be a team, and despite everything I’ve sacrificed for him, it felt like he was shutting me out.

  The wedding was an outdoor event at a large country club, with a parking lot packed to the brim with expensive cars. Brad’s new motorcycle was parked on the sidewalk by the entrance, while the air was filled with laughter, punctuated by his voice. I found him not far from the reception area, surrounded by three young women who were completely enthralled by some inane story he was telling about running cows. He certainly knew his audience.

  “Mr. Garza.” I wanted to sound professional in front of his entourage, but I had never felt so awkward speaking to him before. It sounded so unnatural to speak to Brad like he’s… not a friend.

  “You made it!” Brad turned around, and immediately threw his arms around my neck in an overly friendly hug. “Get me out of here, and make it look like it’s not my call,” he whispered into my ear while mid embrace. I nodded subtly into his shoulder to tell him I understood, then I took a firm hold of his arms to push him away from me.

  “Ladies, I apologize for the interruption. I hope you’ve been having a good time with Mr. Garza, but it’s getting terribly late. and he’s got an important engagement first thing in the morning. But we both hope to see you at the Bass Jumpers Tour.” I addressed the young women with a nod.

  “That’s his manager?! He’s almost as hot as Brad.” A young blonde squealed to a red head beside her.

  Almost? I cocked an eyebrow. “Right, we’ll be on our way now.”

  “Bye ladies! I’ll see you later!” Brad blew the women a collective kiss as I practically dragged him back to the parking lot. It was a solidly believable exit. He waited until we were in the sound blocking cab of my car before he spoke any further.

  “Geeeez, it took you forever to get here.” He sighed as he relaxed into the leather seats. “If you had taken any longer, you’d probably be trying to hunt down my kidnappers.”

  “That’s a risk you take when you don’t tell me where the hell you’re going.” I had told myself I’d stay calm, but it wasn’t entirely working. I backed out of the parking space, using good driving etiquette as an excuse to not look him in the eye. As if this is my fault.

  “Well, I’ll be sure to tell you everything all the time forever.” Brad’s tone was the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. “What, were you that worried?”

  “Of course I was fucking worried.” I glared at the man beside me. “Do you know how big a deal this tour is? Do you know how important this is to your career? Do you have any fucking clue how much I’ve put on the line for you? And you just fucking ghosted me. How the hell am I supposed to feel?” I shifted gears with a vengeance as I peeled out toward the highway. Alright, so much for that keeping calm idea.

  I wanted to blame him for everything at this point. For the man who got stabbed. For the phantom blood that I would always see when I opened my trunk. For the stupid deals I kept making with Baek. It was my fault. Brad never asked me to do any of this. But for some reason, I resented myself right now.

  Brad waved a hand in the air to dismiss my anger. “It’ll all work out. Have some trust in me for once.” He leaned toward me, while I sat rigidly in the driver’s seat. A dip in the road threw him off balance, and he shot a hand onto my thigh to catch himself. A devious grin slipped onto his lips. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How exactly do you expect to do that?” I didn’t relent any forgiveness.

  “Turn here. Let’s take the coast.”

  “You’re still drunk. The turns will probably make you sick.” The coast was the last place I wanted to go right now.

  “We can take it slow.”

  “That’ll add at least an hour to the trip.”

  He leaned in further, his breath on my ear, his hand still firmly on my thigh, and his pinky tracing light circles over my inseam. “We’re gonna need that much.”

  “Let’s just get back.”

  “Trust me, Jay Jay.”

  I swallowed as the turn approached. I don’t know why I kept protesting at this point. I already knew what I was going to do. I was the one driving, yet I felt completely powerless. Trust him. Fucking trust him, Jay.

  A quick jerk of the wheel put us onto the start of a canyon road. I could feel Brad’s lips pull into a grin as they tickled my ear lobe. “Good boy.”

  His tongue traced the contours of my ear. His fingers inched further up my inner thigh. I forced my focus to the road, while his lips moved down to my neck.

  Why am I giving into him right now?

  His fingers finally made contact. His palm cupped my balls then he slid his hand up to my zipper. Every inch of movement urged me more and more eager.

  I bit my lip and swallowed again. That’s why.

  Brad‘s thumb unlatched my belt buckle. His teeth nibbled at my neck as he slid the leather through its loop. His fingers teased at my zipper, and the gyroscopic force of a sharp turn forced him to finish releasing me.

  Brad chuckled into my ear as the mountain roads tossed him further into me. He stabilized himself against my shoulder, then gripped my shaft, using just enough pressure to feel every inch of my firmness. “You never disappoint me, Jay Jay.”

  Fuck it. I need this right now. I pressed my back into the seat and tilted my head back, far enough to allow him access, but not so far I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road. I was practically drifting as we entered the next corner. Brad was thrown back into his seat, giving me both relief from his touch and desperation for him to come back. The road was getting tighter now, and it was taking twice as much effort to keep us in our lane.

  “This is too dangerous. I can’t have you obscuring my visibility in the middle of the night while we’re surrounded by cliffs.” I spoke firmly, so as not to allow any room for argument. Brad regarded my expression carefully. A deadpan look, intended to give nothing away and everything away at the same time. Every beat of my heart sent blood pulsing through my exposed erection.

  “Then let me get out of your way.” Brad leaned toward me again, but this time, his lips met the head of my cock. He wasted no time taking me into him, sucking in the tip, and plunging down the shaft until I was all the way in the back of his throat.

  “Christ, Brad!“ The pressure on my nerve endings was nearly as overwhelming as the adrenaline that was now pulsing through my body. He began to move in slow, controlled slides, up and down. Each curve and bump shifted the angle of his lips, forcing an extra pulse of his mouth on my dick.

  I kept one hand on the
wheel, but the other shot to the back of his head. My fingers curled through his sexy dark brown hair and insistently sped up his rhythm.

  Tires screeched around the mountain. A rock in the road sent a jolt through the car. Then there was a slight relief from the pressure, as Brad gagged on the pre-cum that released in the back of his throat. Pressure on my nerves increased again as he swallowed back his gag reflex.

  God, he is so fucking good.

  I didn’t dare shift gears. I didn’t dare try to feather my clutch or alter my speed. It was everything in my power to keep my eyes open. To look at anything other than the sexy popstar in my lap. His finger dug into my thighs to brace himself as he clawed me over the edge.

  The road straightened out for only a second. My fingers gripped his head harder. His tongue pushed over my engorged veins. More. Just a little more.

  “Th-there!”

  I released everything I had, while simultaneously jerking the wheel to hug a blind turn.

  Then white.

  Headlights.

  Black steel.

  “Fuck!”

  My ears were filled with nothing but the sound of crunching metal. Rubber tires melted sideways across the asphalt. Glass shattered. Brad was thrown from me. Airbags threw us both into the leather.

  Another bang. Another impact.

  And everything went black.

  Chapter 12

  Brad Garza

  Where the fuck am I? Why can’t I move?

  A crust held my eyes shut, and no amount of willpower seemed to be able to open them. That willpower didn’t seem to be able to move my arm to rub my eyes either.

  Numb.

  I was stuck in place. I couldn’t feel anything.

  Is this death?

  Jay Jay. Where’s Jay Jay?!

  No.

  He must still be alive, because if he had died too, there’s no way he wouldn’t be here with me. I know it.

  So it was just me who died. He’s not here yet.

  That’s okay. I can wait for him.

  The crawling build-up of a cough climbed my esophagus.