by BA Tortuga
“I know this is seriously fucked-up, okay? We need to get your man and get gone.” Soon. Now.
“I know. Today. We’ll go today. I’m… I’m trying to get to him, to let him know.”
“Well, don’t let him let them know.” He could talk in circles. Go him.
“Uh-huh.” Rick almost grinned.
Almost.
“Yeah, yeah.” Sonny rolled his shoulders, the itch between them all but making him crazy.
MJ walked out of the office, headed for a room without even looking at them.
Sighing, he jerked his head at Rick. “You go first. I’ll cover you, just in case.”
“I’m okay.” Rick got out, walked over to MJ. MJ talked to the man a second, then pushed him into a room, shut the door, and opened the next door over. Everyone was so okay that he wanted to pound his fists on the dashboard until they bled. Maybe he would just sleep in the car.
MJ leaned on the doorframe. Stared at him.
Sonny finally got out of the car, grabbed his Glock out of the console, and stuck it under his waistband. They didn’t say anything until they got inside.
“So….”
MJ’s mouth crashed down on his—or up, really, but he didn’t give a fuck, because damn.
Hot.
Sonny grabbed MJ’s hips and turned, smashing the man up against the door. He needed. Now. MJ took his mouth like it was the last fucking time this was ever going to happen, like the goddamn world was screaming to an end. Sonny didn’t fucking think so.
No. No, sir. They’d make it through this, and they’d go native someplace like Bora Bora, eating coconuts and drinking from monkey heads.
“Hurry up. We’re almost out of time.” MJ bit his bottom lip, hard.
“I know, Precious.” Not that he was going to let MJ get away with thinking that for long, but they did have to mount the rescue soon.
MJ nodded, hand on his fly. “Love you, Sunshine. Come on.”
“God. MJ.” They staggered to the bed, and he didn’t even make his usual crack about magic fingers. He didn’t want to waste the breath.
MJ was fucking focused, pushing him down on the bed, yanking his shirt from his jeans, before that hungry mouth landed on his chest. His fingers curled into MJ’s hair, and for a moment the image of MJ without it flashed through his head. Then he growled and shook it off, letting his hips rise up.
Dull teeth scraped across his pecs, even as MJ’s fingers scrabbled at his jeans. Sonny moaned, his thighs shaking, his hands pulling at MJ’s shirt. He needed skin too, hot and vital and alive.
MJ was moaning, words he didn’t understand muffled against his skin. Half of him wanted to hear them. The other half of him knew better. The mood MJ was in, it would just kill the groove.
And he didn’t want the mood killed. He wanted that mouth. That hot ass.
They broke for air, both of them panting, staring. Then they clashed again, both of them groping and kissing. MJ jacked his cock, the edges of his open zipper zinging his skin. His thigh muscles threatened to snap, they went so tight, and his balls drew up hard. “MJ. More.”
“Yeah. More.” MJ worked him harder, that hand moved faster, almost slapping his prick.
“Not your hand. I don’t wanna come in your hand.” That was…. He needed this to be about more than that.
“You want to fuck me?” MJ wiggled out of his jeans, fast and furious.
“Fuck, yes. I want in. Want to watch your face.”
He watched MJ strip down, piece placed on the bedside table along with his. “Anything you want, man.”
“I want you.” I want you to stop acting like a man on death row, he thought, but managed to keep from saying that out loud.
“Something I’m fucking excellent at giving you.” MJ straddled his hips, stared at him.
“You are. I swear.” He got one hand on MJ’s skin, pulling hard, trying to get lined up.
MJ took him in, dry and hard, without a fucking sound. Jesus.
Jesus.
Sonny’s whole body shook, his muscles going tight like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket. Fucking A. He pulled at MJ’s hips, needed to move.
“Fuck me. No playing.” MJ stared at him, eyes laser sharp.
“No. No playing. Ride hard, Precious.” All he had to do was stare back and move his hips, up and down. Hard.
MJ took him like Marines storming a fucking beach. Their skin slapped, the heat blistering him.
They rutted like there was no turning back, like they were never going to do this again, and he refused to believe that. Period.
“Come on. Come on. Want to feel this forever.”
“MJ.” All of a sudden he wanted to stop, wanted to just grab MJ and run and never look back. He was way too gone for that, though.
“Yeah, Sonny. Come on.” MJ was right there, all his, eyes hot as fire, fucking burning into him.
“Precious. Need you. Don’t do anything stupid.” Now was probably not the time, but when would there be a better one?
“Shh. We’re fucking. Nothing stupid. I promise.”
“No.” His hands clenched on that sweet skin, and Sonny moaned, humping hard.
“No what?” MJ ground back down, fingers on his nipples.
“Nothing stupid.” He rolled up, begging a kiss.
“Uh-huh.” MJ’s lips crashed down on his, shutting his happy ass up. That was probably a good… wait. Was he talking? No. He was a redneck about to come. Those kinds of folks couldn’t form words. MJ’s ass clenched around his cock, milking his prick, forcing him right over the edge.
Sonny shouted, body arching, hands scrabbling at MJ’s skin, his head threatening to explode. Damn. Damn.
MJ grabbed one of his hands, brought it down to that hard, leaking cock.
“Yeah.” He kissed MJ again, hard enough that someone’s lip split, pulling at that cock, needing to feel MJ come for him. Heat poured over his fingers, spreading over his belly. Fuck, he felt that all through him.
Sonny hung there, his belly and chest heaving, his thighs shaking. He held MJ in his hand, thumb rubbing almost idly.
“I love you, you redneck son of a bitch.” MJ’s ass clenched down on his prick, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
“Mmph.” He loved MJ so much it hurt. Right then and there he would do anything for that beautiful man.
Of course, he had the feeling he was fixin’ to have to.
Chapter Forty-Four
“RICK, I need you to do your thing. I need the access codes.”
The time for playing had stopped. Dead. Greg wanted him, and MJ wanted this shit to cease. He’d rescue Neil, because he should have said something about the fucking tracer. He should have remembered. He should have thought.
He shouldn’t have gotten lazy.
MJ pushed that shit aside. He’d go in, get Neil, get them out, and send the place up.
“I’m trying, Boomer. I swear. I can’t reach him.”
“You don’t have a choice, Rick. Wake his ass up.”
“He’s hurt, you asshole!” Rick stood up, hands going for the Glock on the bedside table.
“Rick. If you touch it, I will shoot you between the eyes and leave Neil to rot. Do not believe that I won’t.” He didn’t even bother tensing up.
Rick froze, eyes panicked. “Please, Boomer. He’s hurt so bad….”
“And he’ll die if we don’t get him. Your call, man. I don’t really give a shit. I can turn around and walk away.”
He couldn’t, not now. Not without killing Greg, but the little brat didn’t know that.
Sonny had been watching, mouth a hard line, not a bit of the usual humor in those dark eyes. Now he went to Rick, big paws on the kid’s rounded shoulders. “Rick. Paddy. He doesn’t want to be stuck there either. He’ll wake up and help. Shout in his head.”
Rick looked up at Sonny, actual tears in his eyes. “I hate you. I hate you both, and I will make you both pay for this, I swear to God.”
That was enough. He
stepped over, popped Rick in the jaw, good and hard. “That’s your first warning. Neil, you fucking wake up and quit being a pussy.”
Paddy jerked back, eyes closing, and when they opened he would swear they weren’t Paddy’s anymore. They were dull green. “Do stop that.”
“Give me the information, Brit. We’re here.” He met Neil’s eyes, serious as a heart attack.
“I’ve been waiting. Fifteen, forty-three, ten. Star.”
“Fifteen. Forty-three. Ten. Star.” He nodded. “Got it. You be ready to go, man. An hour.”
It was going to be half an hour, but Neil didn’t need to know that.
Not yet.
“They change them every hour. You have fifteen minutes.”
“Good to know.” Fuckhead.
He held Neil’s eyes. “We’re coming. You get yourself together.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He nodded, then turned on his heel and headed for the car without waiting for Sonny or Rick, either one. His pack was in there; he had his piece. He was ready.
Chapter Forty-Five
NEIL.
Neil.
Neil, I love you. I’m coming. I’m coming. I promise.
The gun was heavy, really heavy in his pocket, and his pants were too big.
Way too big.
Guns were greasy too. Oily. And they smelled.
Paddy had never known that they smelled, really. His pants were going to smell, and what if they killed Neil? What if he wasn’t fast enough, good enough, smart enough to do this?
The car rocketed along the highway, going so fast he couldn’t bear to watch outside, watch the heavy shapes of cactus (cacti, cactuses, cacteronis) just blurring past the window. There wasn’t any music, there wasn’t any talking, there wasn’t anything.
Neil.
Sonny glanced over the back of the seat, but there was nothing there either. Not for him.
No, Neil was up ahead, and they had… three minutes. “Hurry. We’re out of time.”
“We’ll make it. There’s the front gate and the main holding facility.”
Sonny seemed so… sure.
“Stop the car here.” MJ was moving already, grabbing a bag and pulling his hair back tight. “Rick, you’re pushing the buttons. Remember, fifteen….”
“Forty-three, ten, star. Don’t. I remember.”
He remembered everything.
They all did.
They all did.
“We have two and a half minutes.” Sonny didn’t check his piece, which Paddy remembered he always seemed to do before, like a nervous habit.
“Move, Rick. Now.” MJ’s fist shot up, busting out the light on the inside of the car, making everything dark as the door opened.
Chapter Forty-Six
COWBOY STARED at Jay-Jay’s momma, trying to ignore Duncan. Doc was pacing, and Momma was twitching, and it was about to drive him nuts.
Somehow, he’d been hoping he’d hear from Jay by now. Either Jay or Duke. It seemed to be taking too damned long. Duke always answered him.
Always.
Seemed like things might just be getting out of hand. He had a feeling.
Cowboy hated it when he had a hunch.
About the time Momma opened her mouth to say something, probably about how she really needed her medicinal weed, Cowboy’s phone rang. He flipped it open and turned his back, glad for the distraction.
“Joe’s Bar.”
“Is it, indeed? I’m selling security.” Well, fuck a duck. He knew that smarmy, oily, so-not-Jay-Jay voice.
“Yeah? I might be in the market.”
Shit. Shit, he had to watch the clock. Make sure they couldn’t capture his signal.
“Excellent. I have someone working the Arizona territory. Can you meet with them, say, this evening?” How the fuck did they know he was on the West Coast?
“No. I can meet someone in southeastern California, though, in the same time frame.”
No way. No way was he meeting anyone anywhere near Momma and the Doc.
“That’s satisfactory. I will forward you the meeting details at the usual address. This meeting is extremely vital.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.” He hung up, knowing he had to get Duncan to move Momma somewhere even he didn’t know about, find a way to make contact when it was all said and done.
Duncan looked at him, eyes sharp, too damn smart, just a little wary. “What’s up?”
“The men who hired me to take you out. They want a meeting. You have to take MJ’s mother somewhere, Doc.”
To his surprise, Duncan nodded. “I will. How will you find us?”
“I’ll give you an address. You go there and tell Duke that Cowboy Jim sent you. If things feel hinky, you just keep going and set up an email. Docdunc at either of the big free servers… I’ll try both. I’ll email you when I’m ready to meet up with you.”
“Okay. Cash only, right?” Duncan touched his wrist. “You’ll come for me, yeah?”
“You know it.” He turned his hand, grabbing Duncan and pulling him close enough to kiss. “I had to kidnap you once, huh? I can do it again.”
“I’ll hold you to that. I can get incredibly grumpy.”
“I know you can. They come for you, you get so grumpy that they’ll be finding the pieces for weeks. You hear me?” He kissed Duncan hard, needing the taste and feel of that fine mouth.
Duncan fucked his lips, hands squeezing his arms, hard enough to bruise.
The thrill of that went straight to his toes, shooting down through his cock. Jesus. He moaned, knowing they couldn’t do this now. Couldn’t let it get out of hand.
“Mine. My cowboy. You remember.” Those black eyes flashed green.
“I will, Doc. I swear.” He was a cowboy, after all. His word was as good as law.
“I do too. I’ll take her, keep her safe.” He got one more kiss. “Give me some cash. I’ll worry about transportation.”
Jesus, his blinky little professor was getting good at this shit.
He nodded, went to his bag and handed over a wad of bills, and then went to MJ’s momma. “Hey, lady. I have to go help MJ. Duncan’s going to move on with you. You’ll like him. He plays Scrabble.”
Bright blue eyes that looked just like Jay-Jay’s looked at him. “I want you to tell him….”
“I will. I’ll tell him.” He cupped her wrinkled cheek, feeling as many smile lines as anything else. “You be good for Doc, huh?”
“I will. I have my bag, my books. Manning is always telling me I need a vacation.”
“There you go.” Smiling, he bent and kissed her cheek, the tingle on the back of his neck telling him they all had to hit the road.
Duncan handed him his hat, opened the door. “Go, Colby. Hurry.”
“I’ll come for you, Doc. You just hang in there.”
Before he could get all mushy, which would just be bizarre, he headed out, intent on putting a safe distance between him and Duncan.
MJ had better damned well appreciate all of this.
Chapter Forty-Seven
COWBOY SHIFTED from foot to foot, wishing he had a damned cigarette. That would be stupid, would dull his senses, but that didn’t stop him from wanting one. He checked his danger areas again, making sure no one could get the jump on him. Meet the bastards. Tell them what they wanted to hear. Then go help Jay-Jay. That was the plan.
A tall man walked up, straight at him, like they knew each other. Okay, then. Hello, Mr. Bastard.
Cowboy straightened up, figuring the casual slouch wouldn’t fool anyone anyway. “You got something for old Jim, Mister?”
“Ayup.” Well, now. That was deep Yankee. “Gotcher this.”
A paper bag was handed over, and he swore to God, if it’d been Jay-Jay, he’d’ve run. Jay-Jay could blow lots of shit up with a bag that size.
They weren’t about to blow him, though. They needed him too much. As far as they were concerned, he’d sent in the live blood sample and gotten a little energetic wi
th disposing of Doc on the dead one, so he was still their best bet. After all, he was a fucking pro, right? Fucking right. Cowboy took the bag and nodded, staring the man down when he would have waited.
“You know where to call.” The guy turned tail, walking away.
Yeah. He knew where to call, and he’d gotten a new disposable cell registered to Joe Easy. Cowboy waited until the guy was gone, then headed out to the second vehicle he’d had parked at the bar, one he hadn’t driven up in.
The bag had a .33, a cell phone, a picture of MJ, and directions.
Well, he’d be damned.
That might actually make it easier for him. If MJ was the target, then he wouldn’t have to show his hand until the very end.
That worked for Cowboy.
Man, it was a shit picture too. Jay was way prettier in person.
He checked the .33 over, making sure it was clean and in working order. No exploding in his face.
Cowboy had five hours to get two hundred miles and into the desert. He didn’t know how they knew that Jay was hitting them at a certain time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He just knew he had to move his ass, and he wasn’t allowed to stop and call the Doc, or fret about it. Damn it.
He’d always been able to do his job. It was time to go finish this one.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“BOOMER, WHAT if there are metal detectors?” Paddy was scared.
Really scared.
He was going to do it; he wasn’t going to let Neil down, but….
He was scared.
“Just do it.” MJ handed him a badge, a key card, wiping them clean. He could see the shape of a lump, a lab coat, bound hands. “Just walk up, use the card, punch in the number.”
Paddy nodded, licking his lips. Sonny wasn’t right there. He was back far enough to lay down cover fire.
“Listen. You walk up, you punch in the number, you open the door.” Boomer stared at him. “I know you’re scared, but they’re going to kill your man.”
“I know. What…. What if there are metal detectors, though?”
