Road Trip, Volume 2

by BA Tortuga

  Sonny shrugged a tiny bit. “That buddy I was telling you about. Come on, Precious. Take a chance on something good. I ain’t no ghost.”

  “You’re not.” That was his job. A spook. He heard sirens; they were coming. No jails. No more boxes. No more. “We have to move. Now. They’re coming.”

  He didn’t even know for sure who “they” were right now.

  “Well, I told you that.” The guy in the truck was a hot cowboy, all shadowy gray eyes and tanned skin. Giving up on making it make sense, he let Sonny toss him in the back of the king cab.

  Worst came to worse, he’d kill them both and take the truck.

  After the ow faded a little.

  That big body settled close, warming him, fucking protecting him, it felt like.

  “I don’t want to have to kill you.” There was something about this one. Something he didn’t get.

  “You won’t.”

  “Sheyah,” the cowboy put in. “You so should have when you had the chance.”

  “Does everybody in this motherfucking country know me?”

  “Nope.” Damn, but the cowboy was cheerful. It made Jaime want to pop him one. “Just us. And he knows you biblically, so he’s one up on me.”

  “Shut. Up.” Sonny growled it out, the sound going straight to a spot below his waist.

  “Huh. Well, no offense, man, but you’re not as fuckable as this one. Hot enough, granted, but a touch less ‘hump desperately.’”

  “None taken. I have my one true humper.” The man turned, winked at him over one shoulder.

  Sonny growled again, moving a little closer, hands starting to move on Jaime’s skin, checking him over. “Ignore him. He’s an asshole.”

  “You have an amazing right hook.” He let his eyes close for half a second while he tried to think.

  “Yeah, and you have a great jab.”

  His eyes popped open, and yeah, Sonny had a big old bruise coming up on his jaw. He grinned, reached out to touch the bruises on the man’s throat. “You sleep for long?”

  “Just long enough to panic a little.” There was something so damned familiar about that wry grin, about the way Sonny pushed into his touch.

  “You’re a hard man to keep safe, Sunshine.” He tilted his head, shook it. Where did this shit come from?

  “Especially from you.” Sonny leaned right down and kissed him like he was allowed to, like they did it all the time.

  Of course, he was beginning to wonder if he was going to get stupid every time this man’s mouth touched him. Then he had to decide if he cared. The kiss was hard, deep, but Sonny’s hands were gentle, not pushing too hard. Which sort of rocked, because he was feeling a little broken up in various parts. Some more than others.

  “So, do you really want to go to Jamaica, Precious? Because I’ve got a sweet boat.”

  Boat.

  A boat.

  “I… I can drive a boat.”

  He knew boats.

  “Yep. It’s big enough for us and for Cowboy and his puffy professor both, and I can cook you bananas once we get there.”

  Three against one. Those were perfectly reasonable odds. Especially a professor. That was really two and a quarter against one. And he was less trackable on the water.

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, good.” This guy obviously had no poker face. He got another smile and another kiss. Addictive.

  “You’re oral.” He approved.

  “I am. Wait until we have time for me to show you what I can really do, Precious.” Oh. Oh, there was a promise there.

  “I wish. I don’t have much time.”

  “Don’t worry so much on it.” One hand stroked his arm, up and down, suggestive as hell.

  “That’s easy for you to say.” It was hypnotic, and he was so fucking tired. “There’s… there’s stuff about me you don’t know, man. I don’t think I’m who you think I am.”

  Not anymore.

  “I’ll learn. I tell you what, Precious. You rest. We’ll head for the coast. I swear, you can trust me.”

  “Just don’t let them take me back there.” He couldn’t go back.

  Not yet.

  Not without supplies.

  “Not until we can raze the place and salt the ground.”

  “You know it,” the cowboy agreed. “I’m gathering supplies for you, man.”

  They sounded like they had his back. They made him want to believe it.

  His hand landed on Sonny’s shoulder. Faith. He was going to have faith.

  Nothing these two could do to him could be as bad as before.

  Nothing.

  SONNY WANTED to scream.

  Oh, he wasn’t gonna. He’d just gotten MJ settled in the back of the truck, both of them stretched out as much as possible while Cowboy drove. They’d picked up Duncan on the way, and he finally felt like things were going his way.

  Except that MJ had that defeated thing going on. The ghost thing.

  That was what made him want to scream.

  Duncan kept looking back at MJ, the look horrified and sick. The little fuck kept his mouth shut, though, thank God. He knew how bad MJ looked. He knew.

  He was going to shave that hair off. And the pubes. He’d scrub that skin until it came clean and put MJ in the sun. Bake him well.

  It was going to fucking be okay.

  They hit a bump and MJ groaned, trying to wake up, fighting sleep like nothing going.

  “Shh. I got you, MJ. Sleep.”

  “Man, he’s in a hurt,” Cowboy said quietly.

  “Yeah. I’ll fix him.”

  “Can…. How do you fix that?” Duncan shook his head. “Colby, we have to get him hospitalized. He’s really hurt.”

  “No hospitals.” He and Cowboy said it at the same time.

  “I can do some basic stuff,” Cowboy went on before Sonny could.

  “Okay. Okay. What can I do, then? Besides sit here and shut up?”

  He grinned at the Doc a little, trying to ease the man’s mind. “You can ponder Jamaica.”

  “I can do that.” Duncan smiled back, but the look didn’t last.

  It didn’t really last for any of them right now. He knew MJ couldn’t be bleeding out inside. He’d been on the run long enough that it would have killed him by now if he was. That didn’t mean other things weren’t broke.

  A cop car whizzed back, sirens blaring, and MJ popped up like a jack-in-the-box, a furious string of Spanish flooding out of the man, those bloodshot eyes meeting his.

  “Hush. Hush, man. It’s okay. No one’s after us.” He had to hold on to keep MJ from hurting them in the small space.

  “Ayúdame. Ayúdame. No dejes que me lleven solecito. No dejes que me lleven. Prométemelo. Por favor. Ayúdudame

  “Jaime.” It hurt him to use that name, but he did it anyway. This wasn’t about him. “No pueden hacerte nada, ok? Estás conmigo.”

  Thank God for high school Spanish and his daddy’s one Venezuelan mistress.

  “Contigo. Sí. Sí. Dios.” MJ nodded, swallowed hard, hands holding his head. “Sol de mi.”

  Sunshine.

  Fuck, yes.

  “You know it, Precious.” Sonny eased back into English, stroking MJ’s neck, rubbing in little circles. “Your Sunshine.”

  MJ nodded, staring right at him, and then those blue eyes rolled back, showing nothing but white.

  “Jesus fuck!” He reached back with his free hand and pounded the door of the truck. “Can’t you get us to the fucking boat, Cowboy?”

  “I’m driving, asshole. You’re the one who said to let him run this far.”

  “Shut up.” He didn’t want I told you so’s. He wanted MJ safe, or as safe as they could get for now. Then he could start the healing.

  “You got it, man.”

  They kept going. He swore to God, one son of a bitch cop pulled them over and there was going to be hell to pay.

  THEY GOT on the yacht, Sonny carrying MJ on board while they followed. Duncan was on Colby’s heels, helping t
o carry supplies. He wasn’t freaking out. He wasn’t getting growly.

  “Colby, what do we do next?”

  “Well, we could kill them both and take the boat.” Colby glanced over and winked, but he still wasn’t certain if that was a joke.

  “That’s an option.” He thought he could maybe manage it, if Colby asked. “Is he broken?”

  “No. I mean, not entirely.” Colby’s expression hardened. “If it turns out he is, I have instructions.”

  He knew what that meant. MJ wasn’t safe when he was sane. Broken? Damn.

  “I need you to just be on guard, honey. I need you to be alert. Sonny ain’t gonna be worth shit, and I’ll have to drive.”

  Okay. Yes. He could watch the radar, monitor the shortwave.

  “Anything.” He nodded, watched Sonny disappear. “Does he have supplies down there?”

  “You mean medical?” Colby snorted. “That man is amazingly well equipped. Help me check the fuel and shit, honey.”

  “You got it.” He put his head down, got to work. He was getting fairly proficient at this whole mariner thing. Really.

  If they could just….

  MJ started screaming, the sound hurt and loud and…. “Colby?”

  “No.” Flat, hard, the word stopped him in his tracks. “If Sonny needs help, he’ll ask. We have to get moving before he attracts attention. Go ahead and throw off the lines.”

  “Okay. Okay. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” He headed down the deck, pulling the ropes.

  “I know. I don’t either.” Cowboy moved away toward the wheelhouse, got them fired up and ready to go.

  The screaming stopped short, just stopped, and Duncan could breathe again. He gave a second’s thought to his old life—the normal, the quiet, the simple. Then he saw Colby.

  Colby was… a force of nature. Something that was completely unstoppable, and someone he just couldn’t live without. Amazing.

  “Let’s go, Cowboy. We’ll feel better on the water.” He hoped he was telling the truth.

  “You know it, honey. One thing at a time.” He could hear the need to believe that in Colby’s voice as well.

  Chapter Nine

  HURT.

  He hurt.

  He hurt.

  He shoved himself up from the… bed?

  Was he in a bed?

  Where was he?

  What was this?

  Hurt.

  Fuck.

  He forced his eyes open, moonlight pouring in through an open window.

  Oh.

  Oh, yes.

  “It’s okay, Precious. Esta bien. Lo prometo.” He knew that voice, bone-deep. Knew it meant pleasure. Comfort. The Spanish was for shit, though.

  The sun.

  “Sun….” The sun. Yeah.

  “You know it.” That redneck-Southern voice started singing, rough as a cob. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine….”

  He whispered the words along, letting big hands ease him back onto the mattress, against solid warmth. Soft lips and a bristly beard trailed over his cheeks, down his chin, shaping the lyrics, word by word.

  “Smell good.” He knew that smell. That was home. Good. Everything he needed to keep safe.

  “Mmm. We need to get you a bath, Precious. Get you cleaned up.” A kiss was pressed to his throat, just above his collarbone. “Tell me where it hurts?”

  “Ribs. Head.” Oh, a bath. He hadn’t had a bath in….

  In….

  Sunshine hummed, the song going on and on while those big hands cradled his head, checking him over. There was a spot on his hip that made him groan, a place on his ribs that had him crying out, pushing away.

  “Shh. Okay, so that one we need to deal with, huh?” Soft, soothing, those hands smoothed over him until he could breathe again.

  “I was in a box.” He blinked at his words, tried to shake his head, but that hurt. No. No, it didn’t fucking hurt. It was like a steel spike ramming into the back of his skull, driven by a five iron. Oh, that worked much better than “hurt.”

  “Now you’re on a boat.”

  That explained the rocking, the distant hum. A boat. With a porthole, though. Good.

  “I can drive a boat.”

  “You can. Though I never let you.” He felt the smile against his skin.

  “I must like you, to let you… let you get away with that.”

  “You do.” The smile disappeared, the note in those two words something he wasn’t sure he understood, but it hit him deep in the gut.

  “You ever… ever get the feeling you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, man?”

  “All the time.” One hand landed on his good hip, one big thumb rubbing lightly. Didn’t hurt either.

  “Works for us… you, huh?” His gut told him it was cool, this was cool.

  “Yeah. You work for me, Precious. Trust me, we’re gonna figure all this.” Little kisses peppered his cheeks and chin, relaxing him even more.

  “I’m tired.” Every inch of him felt torn.

  “I know. You can rest now. I promise. I’ll take care of you.” Warmth seeped into him, shared warmth from Sunshine’s huge frame. Furnace man.

  Okay. Okay, he’d believe it.

  He had to. If he didn’t, he was going to short out.

  “Good.” Another soft kiss fell on his skin, this one pressed to his temple. “Sleep, Precious. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “You watch. Don’t let them in.”

  He didn’t wait for a response.

  He just let sleep take him.

  SONNY WATCHED MJ sleep, feeling like he’d been run over by a truck.

  The whole up and down roller coaster might just kill him. MJ knew him. Knew how he smelled, knew his touch. But his Precious was hurting deep inside, and that quick-fire mind Sonny loved so much was locked away. Keeping itself safe.

  Goddamn. Just… fuck a duck and pull all its feathers.

  He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his stubbly head. Then he grinned at himself. “I sure am sighing a lot, Precious.”

  Those blue eyes popped open, fastened on him. “Necesita afeitarse.”

  Yeah. Yeah, he knew. Maybe MJ’d shave him.

  “Sí. How you feeling?” He hadn’t meant to wake MJ up, but since he had, he could check those ribs, maybe stuff some juice and broth into the man.

  “No sé.” Waking up was the hardest part; it took MJ time to even start to be there at all.

  “Well, I think you’re doing good.” Grinning, he squatted next to the bunk, ignoring the rocking of the boat. Cowboy was moving them along.

  Those fingers reached out, touched his lips, traced them.

  Sonny closed his eyes a moment, relishing the touch. Then he kissed MJ’s fingers and laughed a little. “How do you feel about grapefruit juice?”

  MJ loved it, drank it by the fucking gallon. It felt good when he got the eager nod, especially when MJ didn’t wince from doing it.

  “Cool. You hang out for, like, two minutes. I’ll hit the galley. If you need the head, though, I can take you.”

  “Sí.” MJ nodded again, sat up, sheet bunched around his waist.

  Oh, Jesus fucking on a pogo stick. Sonny hadn’t even seen the bruises the day before, even when he and MJ had been naked and sweaty. How he’d missed them….

  Sonny shook it off. Walk that one off, Redneck. Just deal. He reached down, ready to haul MJ up.

  MJ twitched, but took his hand, let himself be dragged up. There was trouble brewing in those eyes.

  “Que tal, Precious?” Sonny understood, really. He wanted MJ to go back to sleep so he could go beat the snot out of Cowboy.

  “No se. They coming after me? Who are you working for?”

  Hot damn. They were moving to English. “I work for me and you. That’s it. Are they coming after you? Probably.” He wasn’t gonna lie. Not now.

  “Why don’t I remember anything?”

  “I think you’re hiding from them, Precious.” Jesus. It was like a mule kick to t
he gut. He wanted MJ to fight with him. Scream at him. This quiet, broken thing… he didn’t know how to deal with it.

  “Okay.” MJ looked around the room, ice-cold, curious. “We’re on a boat. I know how to operate a boat. Where are we going?”

  “Jamaica.” Montego Bay. Somewhere that might jog that memory.

  MJ blinked. “Bananas. Do we have access to a laptop?”

  “We do.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. Sonny went for light. “Long as you don’t blow anything up.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Not when we’re on a boat. You wouldn’t want to blow me up, I promise. You like my mouth too much.” Incentive. It was all about incentive.

  “Who else is aboard?” MJ’s eyes were on his mouth.

  “A friend. The one who drove us to port. His man.” Hulk. Thing. Whatever. Doc had turned out to be a decent guy.

  “That’s it?” Oh no, lizard boy. No attacking. Not in the shape MJ was currently in.

  “That’s it.” Sonny took a step back, hands loose at his sides. “Head’s that way.”

  “Cool.” He could read the danger, the amazing fucking violence right under the lines of MJ’s skin.

  MJ headed toward him, moving deceptively slowly.

  “We gonna dance, Precious?” He wasn’t worried that MJ would hurt him. Not really. If the man hadn’t killed him when Greg had him and a bullet to the head could have ended it all….

  “We can do this the easy way, if you want. I can tie you to the bed and leave you down here.”

  “I never do anything the easy way, Precious.” He never had. Why start now?

  “Why do you call me Precious?” MJ took another step closer.

  “Well, at first it was a joke.” Sarcasm had been his friend once. Where he’d lost it, he had no idea.

  “Okay.” Those ice-cold eyes stared him down. “I don’t want to hurt you, but that’s what I do. That’s all I do.” MJ frowned, shook his head. “The running is over. Time to work, they said. They said they were putting me back to work, and I… I think I said no.”

  Yeah, with like an amazing motherfucking kaboom.

  “You did. You said no, and I came to find you. We’re retired, man. Seriously.” He took a chance and reached out, fingers grazing that scarred face.