by CJ Bishop
Another kick to the stomach wrenched the last of Callum’s air away as his vision went dark and the sound of Jules’ cries slowly faded away.
CHAPTER 7
At five-thirty that morning, Donald knocked on Axel’s backdoor. Axel had yet to return to bed since Clint had left at three-thirty. About forty-five minutes before Donald showed, Clint’s call had come in but there wasn’t much information to relay; Adrian had woken up in the middle of the night to find Callum and Jules gone, and now Cruz and his men were out looking for Tazz’s gang. Clint and the others were going to join them in the search as well.
“Any news?” Donald asked when Axel opened the backdoor.
“Not really.” Axel motioned him in and gave him what little information he had. “Adrian expects Tazz to call him and try to make some kind of bargain or trade.”
“Trade?” Donald frowned. “What do you mean?”
Axel explained.
“What’re they going to do if he does ask for that?” Donald sat down at the kitchen table while Axel poured them each a cup of coffee.
“I don’t know,” Axel said. “But they sure as hell won’t turn Adrian over to the fucker.” He brought the cups to the table and handed one to Donald then took a seat. “You know our guys, they’re not going to negotiate with those bastards. They’ll just go in and take them out.”
Donald nodded and sipped his coffee, a troubled look on his face.
“You worried about them?” Axel asked quietly.
Sighing, Donald shook his head. “Not really. They’ve been in this business long enough to know how to deal with those assholes. It’s just that…” he chewed his lower lip and looked at Axel. “John is gonna want to know what’s going on. Cochise doesn’t want him knowing certain…things.”
“John doesn’t know that Cochise is a gangster?”
“No.” Donald twisted the cup in his palms. “I feel like Cochise is extra-protective of him, which I totally get.” He smiled and shrugged. “I kind of am, too. Maybe it’s because he was in a coma and…what put him there…that makes him seem vulnerable and fragile.”
Axel gazed at Donald; the young man’s eyes lit up whenever he spoke of John. “Has John picked up on it yet?”
“On what?”
Smiling, Axel murmured, “How crazy you are about him.” He welcomed a slight change in topic; he didn’t want to think about Jules out there in the hands of merciless men. It tore his heart apart.
Donald dropped his eyes to his cup and pursed his lips, a little embarrassed. “If he has, he hasn’t said anything about it. But…” Donald sighed. “I don’t think so. I think he sees me as a brother type, so I doubt it would even cross his mind.”
The forlorn look on Donald’s face tugged Axel’s heart; the guy was head over heels in love with John. “Do you still think there might be something between him and Zoe?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. She asked him to go with her to her gig in Boston. They’re going to be staying in Colton’s apartment there in the city.” He took a drink of coffee. “She didn’t ask me to go. John said I could come, too, but the invitation felt awkward.” He shrugged. “Maybe because he didn’t really want me to go along, I don’t know.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t it,” Axel said quietly. “And besides, won’t her band be staying there in the apartment, too? It’s not like she and John would be alone, even without you.”
“Yeah. I guess,” Donald mumbled. He stared down at his cup. “I’m thinking of getting an apartment in the city.”
“What?” Axel frowned. “You’re moving out?”
“Thinking about it.”
“Because of John?”
Rubbing his eyes, Donald murmured, “If something is developing between them, I can’t stand by and watch it and pretend I’m fine. I’d be doing everyone a favor if I just moved out.”
“Somehow, I think Cochise would disagree,” Axel said. “He’s practically adopted you. I mean, shit, you saved his life. And a man like Cochise doesn’t take that lightly. He may not let you leave.”
Donald smiled. “That’s possible.” He released a low breath. “You know, when we had Jules’ birthday party out here, Cochise told me not to be so quick to concede defeat.” He looked at Axel. “Where John was concerned.”
“Really?” Axel was intrigued. “He isn’t a man to talk off the top of his head, so to speak. If he said that, then he must’ve had a reason.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Maybe he sees things with John that you’re not seeing.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He fell silent and sipped his coffee, eyes blank on the table. Fear masked his face when he looked up. “Do you think Jules is okay?”
The fear and worry temporarily held at bay flooded back over Axel. “Yeah,” he whispered. Jules was the sunshine of their lives. To even consider that they might not get him back was too much for Axel. “I don’t think they would hurt him if they want to use him as some kind of leverage.”
“And what if they don’t want him for that?” Donald stared at him uneasily.
Axel shook his head. “I have to keep telling myself he’s okay, or I’ll fucking lose it.”
“Me, too.”
Axel left the table and refilled his cup though it wasn’t empty. “The waiting is the hardest part. At least Clint, Cochise, and the others are out there actively looking for him. Having to just sit and wait is torture.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Donald got up and added coffee to his cup then leaned against the counter. “But our boys will find him, right?”
Axel nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured. “They won’t stop until they do.” He raised his cup to his lips and sipped the hot drink. “And God help those fuckers who took our little man.”
Donald chuffed. “God ain’t gonna help them. He’s on our side.”
Clinking their cups, Axel smiled. “Amen, brother.”
♦
The young man of Italian descent showed up just after dawn. The city skyline was still pale when he rang the doorbell and Anthony answered. He had been expecting him; one of Cruz’s boys. Lorenzo. The kid was hardly out of his teens but in his dark eyes Anthony noted a wealth of intelligence and maturity. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, his black hair short with a few longish strands that fell across his brow. His face was soft and smooth, betraying his youth, yet possessed just enough hardline bone structure to radiate an appealing masculinity. Lorenzo carried with him what looked like a thick briefcase.
“Mr. Romero.” Lorenzo addressed him respectfully and stepped through the door when Anthony motioned him inside. He followed Anthony into the other room where he was introduced to Angelo and Adrian.
“Do you think you can find them?” With each passing hour, fear etched a more vivid path across Angelo’s face. They were all sick with worry, but Angelo was taking it the hardest.
Lorenzo placed the case on the bar top and released the latches but left it closed. “Get him on the phone and I’ll find him.” The young man’s unwavering confidence encouraged Anthony. Out on the streets, one might take Lorenzo for an average post-high school kid who likely worked a manual-labor job. He doubted few would afford him due intelligence.
“Where did Cruz find a gem like you?” Anthony asked.
Lorenzo chuckled. “I came as part of a packaged deal with my pops.”
“You’ve done this before? Traced calls?”
“Oh yeah.” Lorenzo grinned. “In high school, I had a little side business. Girls would pay me to track their boyfriends’ calls, see if they were really where they said they were.” He laughed. “Got a lot of boys in trouble.”
“So, you were more popular with the girls than the boys, I take it?” Adrian deduced.
“Oh yeah.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Luckily most of those boys knew I had a gangsta daddy, so I was spared the beatdowns.” He smirked. “Served them right. It’s just bad policy to be cheatin’ on your girl. Or your boy, whatever the case may be. I had a few boys pay me to
track their boyfriends as well.”
Adrian took a seat at the bar. “I don’t know for sure that my brother will call. I expect him to, but there’s no guarantee.”
“Do you have his cell number?” Lorenzo asked. “Can you call him?”
“No,” Adrian said. “He makes a habit of changing out phones periodically. He’s probably went through two or three since I last had his number. But I have the same phone I’ve always had.”
Angelo frowned. “Wait. Don’t you have Shannon’s cell? Wouldn’t their current numbers be on her phone?”
“Shit,” Adrian groaned. “I forgot all about her phone.”
“Hey,” Lorenzo nodded. “If you can get me his number, and his cell is turned on—I’ll find the fucker for you.”
♦
Callum woke up tied to a chair. Pale light filtered through the high windows, indicating it was early morning. His throat was dry and he tried to swallow, making him cough. “Jules…?” His voice came out scratchy, rough. A sudden slap across the face brought him to full awareness. His eyes watered and he raised his head. Tazz stood over him.
“You worthless piece of shit. We take you in and you repay us by betraying our trust?”
“He’s just a little kid,” Callum rasped. “He’s scared. Why do you even want him?”
“That’s our fucking business.” Tazz backhanded him, nearly knocking the chair over. Tazz caught it with his foot before Callum crashed onto the floor, halting it with a sharp jerk. “Your job is to do whatever the fuck we tell you. Did we tell you to take that little bastard back to my brother? Did we?”
“No.” Callum cringed, expecting another slap, or possibly a fist this time. He wanted to ask where Jules was, but Tazz wouldn’t tell him, and would probably hit him for asking.
“Now, I’m going to ask you something,” Tazz said. “And you better fucking tell me the truth.”
Callum nodded. An ache permeated his shoulder sockets from the fierce angle that his arms were twisted behind the chair. He didn’t know if he would be leaving here alive. Tazz hadn’t liked him to begin with, and now…he might just whack him and leave his body in one of the dumpsters out back.
“When you were at Adrian’s,” Tazz murmured, eyes like cold steel, “did he say anything to you about Jules’ real dad?”
Swallowing hard through his parched throat, Callum mumbled, “He…he just said that Blade wasn’t his dad and…” He hesitated to add the rest.
“And what?”
“And that…when you and Blade found out he wasn’t Blade’s son, that you guys…beat his mom so bad that she died.”
Tazz stared at him, unaffected. “Do you think she deserved any less?”
Was that his confession? “I…I don’t think she deserved to die.”
Tazz punched him, knocking Callum and the chair over backwards. His head cracked against the concrete floor, blotting his vision with sparkles and blackness. A second later, he was jerked upright again and Tazz slapped him hard in the side of the head, enhancing his disorientation.
“You’ve always been a stupid fuck,” Tazz muttered. “Did Adrian tell you the fucker’s name?”
“No,” Callum whispered as his head dropped forward, throbbing like a bitch. He tasted blood and his bottom lip stung from a small gash.
Looking thoughtful, Tazz asked, “Does Jules know who he is?”
If Callum gave him the information, maybe Tazz wouldn’t interrogate Jules. “He said his name was Shay,” Callum told him. “But I don’t think he knows his last name. He’s only four.”
“But I bet Adrian knows his last name.” Tazz dug into his pocket and took out his cell. “And where we can find him.”
“What?” Callum went rigid. “What’re you gonna do to him?”
Tazz smiled coldly as he made his call. “I was thinking…cut off his cock and keep it for a souvenir.” His eyes darkened. “Right before we kill the motherfucker.”
CHAPTER 8
Adrian’s cell went off on his way back from his bedroom where he’d retrieved Shannon’s phone. Lorenzo was set up and ready to trace the call when Adrian walked through the door. The young man nodded at him to answer it.
“Hello?” Adrian had been certain it was from Tazz when the Caller ID showed up as unknown.
“Little brother.” Tazz’s voice came through smug and superior. “It’s been a while. How are you doing?”
“Is Jules okay?” Adrian asked.
“You think I would hurt my own nephew?”
Rather than answer honestly and risk setting him off, Adrian took a different course. “Being taken from his family would have terrified him,” Adrian said.
“It’s good for him to face his fears,” Tazz chuffed. “I bet you spoil him rotten.”
“What do you want, Tazz?” Adrian asked. “I know you didn’t take Jules because you actually want him. So, what’s your game?”
“All right. You want to cut to the chase, so be it. I want the bastard that Shannon fucked. I know that you know who he is. Jules told Cal his name was Shay. Hand him over—or tell us where to find him—and when we have him, you can have Jules back. That’s the deal.”
Adrian glanced at Lorenzo. The young man urged Adrian to keep him talking.
“So,” Adrian murmured for the benefit of the others standing by, “if we give you Jules’ real father, then you’ll return Jules to us? A straight across trade?” Anthony and Angelo exchanged a tense look.
“Straight across the board.”
“And you’ll leave Jules and I alone for good…if we do this?”
“Don’t have any use for either of you.”
Adrian cleared his throat. “Give me a number where I can reach you and I’ll call you back in one hour.”
“You really going to turn him over to me?” Suspicion and doubt saturated Tazz’s voice.
“Jules means more to me than anything or anyone,” Adrian said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back. But before we agree to meet you, I’ll want to talk to Jules first, know he’s really okay.”
“As you wish. I’m not trying to bullshit you about him being fine.”
Lorenzo nodded at Adrian, indicating he had the location pinned down.
“All right,” Adrian said. “What’s your number?” Tazz provided the number and Adrian wrote it down. “I’ll be in touch in one hour.”
“I’ll be counting the minutes,” Tazz murmured dryly and hung up.
Silence hung over the room for a moment as Adrian put his phone away.
“He wants us to give him…Shay?” Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“That’s the trade?” Angelo glanced between them. The pain in his eyes radiated forth. “Well, if he wants Shay,” he said tightly. “Then let’s send him to Shay.”
Adrian nodded. “I agree.”
“Why did you tell him one hour?” Anthony asked.
“To give Clint and the boys time to reach his location. He’ll be waiting for my call, but he won’t be expecting me to make a move until I have Jules safely back with me.” He looked at Lorenzo. “Where was the signal coming from?”
“The outer limits of the city.” Lorenzo motioned him over and showed him on the digital map. “This general location.”
The two older men joined them. “There’s a lot of old vacant buildings out that way,” Anthony said. “Probably holed up in one them.” He dug out his cell. “I’ll call Clint, tell him where they’re at and what they want.”
♦
“Can I see Jules?” Callum asked low; any word out of his mouth at this point could easily gain him another fist in the face.
Tazz had ended his call a few minutes ago. Callum didn’t know if Adrian would actually turn Jules’ dad over to them, he found it hard to imagine. The men Adrian was with were hardcore—much harder-core than Tazz realized. Tazz was arrogant and believed his gang to be one of the toughest, most ruthless gangs in the country. If anything, he was under the impression that Adrian and his men should fear
him.
Before Tazz could respond to Callum’s request, Blade walked out of the back corridor with Jules. The boy was still barefoot and Blade carried his small cowboy boots in his right hand. “Little brat keeps whining about his boots,” Blade drawled and set Jules on an old table near Callum’s chair.
“They’re mine,” Jules whispered, trembling. His cheeks were flushed and damp with recently shed tears. “Give’em back.”
Blade smirked. “What’s so special about them?” He held up the boots and looked at them skeptically. “Don’t look so special to me.”
“Uncle Clint gave them to me for my birthday,” Jules choked on a quiet sob.
“Uncle Clint?” Blade cocked an eyebrow. “He some kind of cowboy?”
Images of the “cowboy” filled Callum’s head. Blade was referencing him in a cynical manner. Callum was sure Blade would meet the man before this was over—and probably shit his pants when he was actually standing face to face with him.
“He is a cowboy,” Jules mumbled thickly. “A real cowboy.”
“Ooh.” Blade tossed a dull look at Tazz. “A real cowboy.” He snorted. “Well, I think cowboys are pansy-ass faggots. And these…” he indicated Jules’ boots. “…are sissy boots.” He walked over to one of the furnaces that had a low burning fire inside and opened the door.
“No!” Jules cried.
“You’ll never grow into a real man wearing these queer things.”
“Don’t…” Callum started but the man was already tossing them into the flames.
Jules wailed, loud and shrill, tears gushing out. “Nooo!”
Blade slammed the door and latched it, a smug smile on his face. “What’s your sissy cowboy gonna do about that?”
Jules trembled, tear-filled eyes wide and locked on the furnace. His small chin quivered as he swallowed sobs and looked at Blade. “He’s not a sissy,” he whispered and Callum swore he heard a smidge of defiance in the child’s voice. “He’s big and tough and…” he choked on another cry.
“And what?” Blade sneered.
