Road Trip, Volume 2

by BA Tortuga

  “They have my dad.”

  “I heard.” Yeah. Sonny heard everything. “Better him than your mom.”

  “Yeah. He’s… not there anymore.” The man wouldn’t understand why they were hurting him.

  “Doesn’t make it easier.” Sonny put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing the thumb against his muscles.

  “No. I need to hit something.”

  Maybe Duncan would play with him.

  “So, come on. I’m a good blocker.” Something dangerous glinted in Sonny’s eyes for a moment.

  “You are. You ready?”

  “I was born ready, Precious.”

  “I’m sorry.” He hauled off and took his swing.

  Sonny ducked, coming up with a fist headed right for his gut. Sunshine gave just as good as he got, every time. He stepped back, going for the leg sweep. Sidestepping, Sonny teetered, but he didn’t go down. Then the man rushed him, coming right in for his belly.

  “Fuck!” He tensed to take the shot, knowing he couldn’t duck this one. Of course, taking that blow left Sonny’s kidneys wide open. Wham.

  They hit the deck, both of them rolling, moving away from each other. Sonny circled him, hands up and ready. He stepped in, heading in with his shoulder. It hit Sonny square in the chest. Those big hands came down on the back of his neck, clenched into a double fist.

  “Uhn.” He hit the deck, knees cracking. Fuck him raw.

  He got no quarter, Sonny punching at his ribs, fist like a Christmas ham.

  He bit the hell out of Sonny’s thigh, hands almost—almost—going for the balls. Grunting, Sonny rolled him right over, breaking his tooth hold. A stunning blow caught him on the calf, making a charley horse pop up.

  “Fucking hell.” He grunted, legs drawing up, and this time he did go for the balls.

  “Jesus!” They broke again, then bounced back in, fists flying. His lip split, and a cut opened up over Sonny’s eye.

  “They have my dad, Sonny. He’s an old man, sick.”

  “I know, Precious. I’ll kill them. I swear I will.” Sonny bent, hands on his knees, breathing hard.

  “Hurt them first.” Sonny was so good to him.

  “Yes. I swear to God. We got to get to land, though. Get Cowboy off to get your momma.” He nodded, then stopped short, his head screaming.

  “Did I addle anything, Precious?” Now Sonny sounded more normal, taunting him a little.

  “Only a touch. How’re your balls?”

  Asshole.

  “Tender. Want to look and make sure they’re okay?” Sonny bent, helping him to his feet.

  He reached out, cupped the balls in question, holding them as careful as he could.

  The man attached went up on his tiptoes, moaning. “MJ. Precious. Good. Warm.”

  “We’re going to fuck now, and you’re going to make it good enough that I can sleep.” It wasn’t a question or a fucking request. It was just what it was.

  “We are. Come on. Bed.”

  He hoped they still had a bed, and that it was empty, or he’d be cranky.

  “I’m right behind you, Sunshine.”

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  COWBOY WATCHED the marina grow out of the dark, taking shape slowly, looking like pick-up sticks, all strewn around. Yay for small ports in the Everglades that had seen their last hurricane season.

  MJ had come awake full of plans, ready to go. Cowboy and Duncan would go get Mom. MJ and Sonny would go kill the dude who had Neil and MJ’s dad and…. Yeah. He had no idea what Paddy was supposed to do. That part was still unclear.

  Man, he wanted a cigarette.

  Paddy was pacing, muttering under his breath, and MJ and Sonny were snarling, fighting idly over the wheel.

  “God damn it, Sunshine, I’m going to drive something, sometime in this fucking relationship!”

  “We got any smokes?” Cowboy asked the crowd at large, just as idly. “I could murder one about now.”

  Sonny glared back at him. “MJ tosses them overboard.”

  “They’re bad for you!” Jay-Jay was fixin’ to blow a vein.

  “So are bullets,” Sonny snarled, slapping a big hand down on the wheel.

  “I rarely, if ever, shoot at you, asshole.”

  “Do you two mind, exactly?” Paddy was staring at them, white as a sheet, eyes huge. “It would be quite pleasant if you two chaps would stop bickering and come effect my rescue.”

  Cowboy tilted his head, the accent catching him off guard, clipped and British as it was. “What the fuck?”

  Jay-Jay stared. “Rick?”

  “For an intelligent lad, you’re not incredibly bright, are you, Manning?”

  “Oh, now. Rick, don’t make me hurt you.”

  “I haven’t enough time to argue, Manning. They have me underground, but I have been able to pick out a few details in between beatings.” Man, Paddy was managing to sound wry and dry and witty. Weird.

  Jay-Jay’s eyes were sharp as fuck. “Give it up, Brit. I’ve got a guy feeding me bits and pieces, but we can be there in hours.”

  “Right.” Paddy’s chest swelled with a deep breath, and his voice became almost singsongy. Kinda made Cowboy’s skin crawl.

  “There’s a laboratory, much like my dear Padraic’s, I’m afraid. Deep beneath the sands. They think about Lake Havasu; they go to Las Vegas. They aren’t military….”

  Sonny stared at Paddy kind of like he was a striking snake. “How big is the lab, English?”

  “Quite large, I think? There are a number of men who….” Paddy winced, swayed, started shaking his head a little, side to side.

  “How many guards do you have? Just you?” Cowboy knew they were running out of time. They could get a good idea of how many men the place would hold by how many they put on one prisoner.

  “They want you, Manning. They want you. That’s all he thinks about. You.”

  MJ was pale as milk himself now, eyes like holes in a blanket, so dark you couldn’t tell they were blue. Sonny was shaking his head, reaching out to Jay-Jay with one hand.

  “No. They can’t have him.”

  “I do hope you’re right.” Paddy gagged, eyes rolled up until there was only white.

  “Shit! Catch him!” Cowboy leaped at Paddy, but it was Duncan who caught the kid, staring down with wide eyes.

  “J23.” Paddy stared at Duncan, then started that high-pitched, ear-shattering screaming again.

  “Goddamn it, Cowboy, get my kit!” Sonny was there in a heartbeat, holding the kid down, treating him like someone having a seizure. He ran for the stairs, noticing that Jay-Jay was just standing there like he’d been shocked or some such.

  Time he got back, Duncan had a split lip, Sonny had a bruise coming up under one eye, and they were way off course.

  “Jay! Would you steer the fucking boat?”

  “What? Yeah. Okay.” Shit, MJ wasn’t fucking in there. Those scarred hands took the wheel.

  Cowboy tossed the kit with the syringes at Sonny, ignoring Duncan’s pale face and wide eyes too. He went to MJ first. Jay-Jay looked up at him, lips tight enough there wasn’t any blood in them. “Jay-Jay. You got to hold it together and tell me what the hell just happened.”

  “If I had to guess, Rick and the Brit have a connection that they can’t break. I could be wrong. I thought your professor was dead, and he’s alive.”

  “Well, shit.” This whole thing was just getting weird. Weirder.

  “Indeed. Fairly exciting, huh? Bet you wish you’d never met me.”

  Cowboy pondered that a moment, tilting his head. “Nah. I wouldn’t have missed Singapore for nothin’.”

  Jay-Jay grinned at him. “Yeah, that rocked pretty hard. You go get my mom, babe, and I’m going to go create a vast, desperate type of trouble.”

  “I’ll catch up with you as soon as Mom and the Doc are safely tucked away. I’ve got a guy, one I trust almost as much as you.” He could leave Duncan and Jay’s momma with Duke. The old fart was as like a father as anything Cowboy had.


  “That works. Tell her….” MJ’s mouth tightened again, almost brutally. “Tell her I’ll take care of the Colonel.”

  “I will, Jay-Jay.” He clapped MJ on the shoulder, glancing back at Sonny, who’d finally subdued Paddy. “You have a good one there.”

  “I know. Should shit hit the fan, you take him with you. No matter what.” MJ’s eyes were like ice. “And I swear to you, I won’t let them take you or the professor, either one.”

  “We’re good, Jay-Jay.” Cowboy grinned, baring his teeth hard. “Might as well go out in a blaze of glory.”

  “You fucking know it.” MJ nodded. “Lights and motherfucking fireworks.”

  “Kaboom.” There. That was more his Jay-Jay.

  “You know it.” MJ pulled up into the marina.

  “Okay. You know how to get ahold of me.” He and MJ had more than one fail-safe. They could get in contact.

  “I do.” MJ clapped him on the arm. “Go on, man. See you soon.”

  “Yeah. I got your back.” He didn’t look backward when he turned toward Duncan, going to grab the man by the arm. “Come on, Doc. Get the duffel.”

  “It’s time?” There was something dangerous in Duncan’s eyes, something shifty. Too bad for the Doc that he was well versed in fucking up folk’s plans.

  “Yep. We’re off to save Jay-Jay’s momma.” That was his job, and he always did his job.

  “Right.” Duncan picked up the duffel, hefting it easily, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Rolling his eyes, Cowboy headed out after the man, ready for anything Doc could throw at him. He might talk slow, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “You’re sure you want to go to California, Colby?”

  “Hell, no. I got to, though. Don’t make me drug your ass, Doc. I have a lot to do.”

  “I have no intention of having you drug me.” Uh-huh.

  “Well, good. You try something hinky, and I’ll have to beat you.” That might be fun, but he’d bet that cave Duncan wouldn’t approve.

  “Colby.” There was a bare growl there, a threat.

  “Hmm?” Now, they had to get to a likely car. They’d steal one for now, then pick one of Sonny’s stash up at a prearranged location.

  “Not going.” A just barely too-large hand landed on his shoulder.

  Cowboy stepped away slowly, letting Duncan’s hand slide off gently, letting the capped syringe slide just as gently out of his pocket. “I promised Jay-Jay I would go get his momma, Doc.”

  “Not going. Can’t.” The big guy almost sounded sorry. “Come with.”

  “Duncan. Doc.” Jesus, he didn’t want to have to drug the man. It would be tough to get him into a car. “Please.”

  “Colby, he promises that we’ll take you somewhere safe. I can hear him, now. I can… he talks right to me now.” He wasn’t sure if that was progress or not.

  “We can go somewhere safe when I get Momma.” MJ had said once that he could outstubborn anyone. “We got to compromise here, Doc.”

  “I’m trying. I have to compromise with two of you.”

  That had him chuckling out loud. What a fucked-up mess. “Okay. Look, I can leave you someplace until I get her.”

  “No.” That one word held a thousand things in it. “No. They’ll hurt you. I can protect you.”

  “Babe. No one can protect me but me. Thing is, if they knew where MJ’s momma was, they’d have her by now. We’ll be fine.” He held out the hand without the syringe in it, trying to solve this with no stabbing.

  Duncan’s eyes were on his, so dark, trying so fucking hard to be brave. “Yeah? I don’t think this is wise, Colby. Nothing about this feels right.”

  “I know, babe. I know. It’s a freaky thing.” Even for him. Shit. “We got to, though. I promised, and I’m a cowboy, huh?”

  “My own personal archetype.”

  There was his Duncan.

  “You know it.” He squeezed the hand Duncan had given him. “We all… all three of us. We all want the same thing. Sooner we get Momma, the sooner we go hide.”

  “Okay. I’ll try. I can’t promise he will. What do we do first?”

  “We need a car. One that can get us to the vehicle we have stashed. Can you get us in a door?”

  Duncan chewed his bottom lip, then nodded. “I think so. Which one?”

  Cowboy did a quick scan. “The black Jeep Cherokee.” They were commonly stolen, and this one was old enough not to be shiny anymore.

  “Okay.” Looking very much like he belonged, Duncan walked up to the Jeep, closed his eyes, and started muttering. They’d been working on it, on Duncan letting the beast out, getting a little bit of control. It was tentative at best, but sometimes it worked.

  A few moments later, the back passenger door was open, and yeah, okay, it was missing a handle, but they could close that with duct tape. Luckily, he’d chosen well. No alarm.

  Green eyes stared at him. “Car.”

  “Thanks, honey.” He’d have to move carefully now, the big guy all to the fore.

  “Good. Good car.” Muscles rippled, those eyes on him. “My cowboy.”

  “You know it. We’re just gonna take a little trip, get the safe car.” He winked. “Bulletproof glass.”

  The low, huffing laugh eased him a little, and so did the fact that Duncan slid into the Jeep. The control was fairly new, and fairly amazing, but this kind of life-or-death situation made old “had to” work in mysterious ways.

  Cowboy popped into the driver’s side. He set about hot-wiring the Jeep, happy as a pig in shit that Duncan was working with him here.

  He could only hope the rest of this damned mission went as smoothly.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  OKAY.

  Okay.

  Okay, what the fuck to do?

  They could head toward Louisiana or Texas, dock and drive. They could dock here. They could stay together, split up.

  Something.

  Anything.

  MJ chewed on his bottom lip, staring at his maps.

  “Cowboy got off good with Duncan, Precious. Rick is sleeping, finally.” Sonny came up behind him, one hand warm on his back.

  “Excellent.” He kept looking at the maps, like he’d been doing for hours. Here or Texas.

  Here.

  Texas.

  “MJ. What do you need me to do?”

  “I have to figure out where we’re going. I mean, I know where we’re going, but how we’re getting there.”

  They were waiting for him.

  Was Greg dead?

  Did someone else take over?

  “Okay. So. We have to dock somewhere. You think Texas?”

  “Yeah. We’ll dock and drive. Head to Nevada. Make a camp. Go in.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” That hot hand was moving up and down his back, slow and easy.

  “This is stressing me out, Sunshine. This whole thing.” Scaring him.

  “No shit?” He looked up, and Sonny was giving him that lopsided grin, sun shining on that stubbly head. “I hear you. We have to finish it.”

  “Yes. For once and for all.”

  No matter what.

  “Scorched earth.” Sonny bent and kissed him. “So, you want me to drive while you plan the route to Nevada and figure what we need to pick up?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed Sonny’s neck and pulled him back in, kissing the man hard enough that his lip split.

  Sonny moaned, grabbing him up close and loving him, lips firm and hot against his. They didn’t have time for this, not at all, but…. He worked open Sonny’s jeans, dropped to his knees.

  “MJ. Oh, fuck.” Sonny gave him just what he wanted, cock hard and hot for him, rubbing his cheek, his lips.

  He didn’t have shit to say, so he sucked, focusing on that heat and need, making Sonny serious promises. Sonny’s hands sank into his hair, holding him in place. The man fucked his mouth like he was the hottest thing on earth. He didn’t stop, spreading his thighs to keep his balance. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Sunshine.


  “Damn. Oh, damn, Precious. More. Come on. Suck me.” No, no, Sonny wouldn’t stop.

  Yes. Fuck, yes. He swallowed hard, pulling Sonny in, deeper and deeper, throat closing around the tip every time Sonny thrust in. Grunting, Sonny slid in and out of his mouth, balls pressing against his chin. His Sunshine knew how to give and take, knew him so damned well.

  He scraped his nails down Sonny’s thighs, scratching hard.

  “Uhn. Christ. More.” That ass flexed and the thighs bulged and Sonny was thrusting harder, more. His tongue slapped the tip of Sonny’s prick, knowing that would sting.

  “Fuck!” Sonny shot for him, just like that. Boom.

  Yeah. Salt and bitter and hot and his.

  He could feel Sonny’s thighs shaking, those big muscles trembling like a leaf in the wind.

  He rested his hand on Sonny’s thigh. Okay.

  Okay.

  Time to get this shit done.

  “You ready to head for Texas, Precious?” Always reading his mind, that Sonny.

  “I am. Let’s go.”

  Sonny nodded, pulling him up for a quick, bracing kiss. “I want this over with.” He got a glinting grin. “I bet English does too.”

  “If they’ve left anything in there, yeah.”

  “We better hope they have, Precious, or we’ll have to kill Rick.”

  “Yeah. That would be kind of shitty.”

  “Uh-huh.” They bumped hips one more time, and then Sonny left him to go make for shore. They were ready.

  One way or the other.

  Chapter Forty

  “BOOMER, ARE you going to give me a gun?”

  Paddy thought he needed one. There was a long list of people he wanted to shoot, and anyone hurting Neil was at the top.

  Maybe a flamethrower.

  Maybe a bullet-shooting flamethrower.

  “Do you know how to shoot a gun, Rick?”

  “In theory.” Oh, maybe he should have said yes.

  “In theory? Jesus. No gun for you, honey.” Sonny could be an insufferable jerk.

  “I could practice. I could have a flamethrower. I could make one.” He met MJ’s eyes. “You know I can learn.”

  MJ stared at him, just stared him down; then he got a nod. “I do. Sonny, find him a piece. Show him how to break it down. He’ll put it back together.”