Linchpin

by Jodi Payne

  Tony chuckled. “It might be a little more done than that.”

  “I’ll live.”

  They dug in and it tasted so good. Tony had seasoned the steaks perfectly. “That’s it, you’re grilling from now on,” Quinn joked.

  “Works for me. Your salad dressing is perfect.”

  “Dijon and red wine vinegar.”

  “So good.” Tony put a big bite of lettuce in his mouth.

  Quinn chewed his perfectly charred steak and took everything in—the house, the dinner on the table, the man sitting across from him. It might be depressingly short-lived and it was definitely undeserved, but for right now it was his. Neither of them was ready to address reality yet, Quinn figured that’s what all the fucking silence was about. A couple of hours of intimacy, some domestic chores, a nice dinner. All these things made it feel real.

  “That was just what I needed.”

  “Yeah. The steak is fantastic.”

  “Well, yes. But I meant your ass.”

  Quinn laughed. “Oh. Well, thanks.”

  “Might be time to consider a safe word,” Tony suggested.

  Quinn nodded. “Elevator?”

  “Too many syllables.”

  Quinn shrugged. “Pink.”

  “Pink it is.”

  They both laughed, then went back to silent chewing until the little devil in Quinn got the better of him. “You had to call me ‘son’ again, didn’t you?”

  “Well—”

  “I fucking hate that, you know.”

  “Oh, yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

  Quinn snorted. “I’m just saying.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I needed that, and you gave it to me, anyway. Again. This whole thing—us—it’s ridiculous and impossible, and yet here we are. And if we’re really lucky we’ll get to keep it.”

  Or this was as lucky as they were going to get. Time would tell. “I hear you, Tony.”

  “You don’t feel lucky?”

  “Oh, yes. For what it’s worth, I do.”

  “It’s worth everything, Quinn.”

  Quinn looked up into Tony’s eyes. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry.”

  “We have a plan, right?”

  “We do.”

  Tony nodded. “I’m ready. I wasn’t before, but I am now. I trust you.”

  Quinn was ready for the plan. He wasn’t ready for the raw emotion that Tony’s words stirred in him. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was no longer a matter of trying to pull it off. He had to. Tony would live either way things went down, but Quinn understood now that Tony might not be okay without him.

  “It’s the only shot we have.”

  “So tomorrow morning, it’s target practice.”

  Quinn tried to smile. “Yeah, because it would suck if you killed me yourself.”

  “I won’t kill you.” Tony sounded very sure of himself. He sipped his beer.

  Chapter Seven

  The wee hours brought more snow and Quinn got out of bed a couple of times to make sure the fires kept burning. They definitely were reaping the benefits of the storm windows, as the house at least wasn’t drafty. He dozed on and off but real sleep wasn’t coming to him, and when the sun finally came up, Quinn stoked the stoves up in earnest and put coffee on.

  He stood looking out the back window at the snow-covered trees, sipping coffee in his robe and slippers. Tony joined him after a bit and they made a huge breakfast together.

  “It’s a good thing we’re leaving soon, I’m about out of groceries,” Quinn joked.

  “I’m impressed with what you had stocked already.”

  “Well, you never know when you’re going to get snowed in up here.”

  “Yeah, we got kind of hammered last night, huh?”

  “Nah, that’s probably about eight inches. No big deal. But I totally get if you want to take the truck when you run, it has four-wheel drive.”

  Tony shook his head. “And give up my only chance to drive your baby? No way.”

  “I’m going to miss her.” Though if that were his only short-lived relationship he’d take it.

  Tony snorted, and finished up his eggs. He took his plate into the kitchen and his coffee over to the coffee table.

  “Safety is on, but be careful,” Quinn warned him, sensing what Tony was up to.

  “Right.” Tony picked up the gun and held it flat.

  Quinn cleaned up the dishes, letting Tony get used to the idea of a gun in his hand. “Put it down, let’s get dressed, then we’ll get to work.”

  Tony put the Beretta on the table and followed Quinn into the bedroom.

  The two of them pulled on their boots, Quinn put the Beretta in his belt, grabbed a box of ammunition, and they headed outside. Quinn already had a practice range set up. At one time, he’d thought about hunting his property and he would come out here with a rifle and practice. Hunting never happened, he discovered he didn’t have the patience.

  When they got there, Quinn handed Tony the gun and got behind him. “Ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good, okay.” Quinn ignored him. “So for your first shot, don’t worry so much about the target. Fire and see how it feels.” He showed Tony how to hold his hands, flipped off the safety and stood at his back. “Looking good. Now squeeze the trigger.”

  Tony didn’t just hesitate, he froze.

  “Tony?”

  “Sorry.” Tony took a deep breath.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Tony nodded and hesitated at first, but this time, he fired. The sound rang out, echoing in the empty forest. Tony managed the shot just fine.

  “That was good.”

  “I hit the tree.”

  Quinn looked at the target he’d put up. Hell if he hadn’t. Maybe Tony really wouldn’t kill him. His cell phone started to ring. “Hold up. Don’t talk.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Randy. Just thought I’d let you know your nightmare is about over. The boys are on their way.” Mikey clearly believed he was delivering the best news ever.

  “They’re what?”

  “On their way, I figure half an hour or so.”

  Quinn suddenly felt sick, like he was going to hurl. “Uh, great,” he managed, reaching around Tony and switching the safety lock back on.

  “You okay?”

  Tony dutifully said nothing but he put his hand on Quinn’s arm.

  “Oh, yeah. This is great. I’ll uh—” He looked at Tony. “I’ll give you a call when they’re done.”

  “Good. I’m free tonight.”

  “Can’t wait. I better run.”

  “Talk to you later, Randy.”

  Quinn shut off his phone. “Practice is over.”

  “What?”

  “You hit the tree, you can hit me. You can drive in the snow, right?”

  “Oh, fuck. Quinn—”

  “They’re coming. Half an hour.” Quinn took the gun from Tony and scooped up the box of ammunition.

  “Wait, Quinn—”

  Quinn looked at him. “What is it?”

  “Never mind.”

  “We knew this was coming, Tony. Come on, we have to get back to the house.” There was no time to panic. There was no time to think any more about whether their plan was a good one. It was all they had. He stalked up to the house with Tony silent at his heels. Once they got inside, Quinn started barking orders.

  “There’s a box under the bed, pull it out. The combination is thirty-two, sixteen, thirty. Take out the cash and bring it to me.”

  “Okay.” Tony nodded and took off for the bedroom.

  Quinn dug a small duffel bag out of the hall closet, reloaded the Beretta and stuffed the box of ammunition in the bag. Tony came running with two stacks of cash in his hands. “Shit, that’s all I have?” He had forgotten it was low, he’d planned to restock it after this job.

  “It’s a lot of money, Quinn.”

  “It’ll do.” Quinn held out the bag so Tony could place the cash inside.

  �
��Now go into my closet, find my black baseball cap and there’s a black leather jacket.” Tony took off again, returning quickly. Quinn zipped up the bag. “Put the cap on, and keep it on until you find a room someplace. It’ll be harder for cameras to get an image.

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  Quinn dumped his field coat and pulled on the heavy leather jacket instead. Assuming he survived Tony’s gunshot wound, he didn’t plan on freezing to death lying in the frozen drifts instead.

  “Get the keys.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Get them. Put them in your pocket so they don’t fall in the snow.”

  Tony did precisely as he was told.

  Quinn zipped up the duffel and stood. “All right.” He looked at Tony. “You remember what you’re going to do?”

  Tony looked into Quinn’s eyes. “Park the car in town, get a taxi to the train, go out of state and find a place to lie low until I hear from you.” Tony’s voice was unsteady but his mind seemed clear.

  Quinn nodded. “Don’t forget to take the burner phone out of the glove compartment. Keep it on and keep it charged. I’m the only one that has that number—if it rings, it’s me. Well, me or the guy who will get you to safety if I don’t make it.”

  “But you’re going to make it.”

  “Fuck, yes. I am so not done with you.”

  Tony grabbed Quinn by the lapels and kissed him hard. Quinn wished they could stay in that moment longer, but it was time. He gave Tony a gentle push away, breaking the kiss. “This is it, handsome. You have to go.”

  As they went outside together, Quinn had to acknowledge that this was going to be a tough sell. Breakfast for two was in the dishwasher, there were condoms in the bathroom garbage can and the house clearly had no signs of a struggle. The only thing he had going for him was that he hadn’t touched the mess that Tony had made in the garage freeing himself from the radiator. Hopefully, that would be enough.

  They stopped at the top of the porch steps and Quinn pressed the gun into Tony’s trembling hand. He’d be lucky if Tony could even pull the trigger, never mind hit him. He hated to do this, but he had to.

  He turned to Tony and slapped him hard in the face. “Man up, Cooper!” he shouted.

  Tony blinked at him in shock.

  “You have to fucking do this. For you, for us. Do you hear me? You have to grow a fucking pair. And I mean right now.”

  It was Quinn’s turn now. He dragged Tony into him for one hard fast kiss, then he shoved Tony away.

  Quinn decided to stand his ground at the top of the porch steps. A shot and a fall? Yeah, that would be convincing.

  Tony froze. He didn’t take one step. Quinn could read Tony’s body language and he saw without a doubt that Tony wasn’t going to pull that trigger.

  “Quinn, I can’t. I have to tell you—”

  Quinn’s phone rang unexpectedly, startling him. He held up a hand to stop Tony, just in case, and yanked the phone out of his pocket. “What?”

  “Randy! Oh, thank God. Listen to me.”

  “Mikey?”

  “Randy, you need to get out of there, now.”

  “What? Me?”

  “Alone, do you understand? There’s no time now, you have to trust me.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed, the horrific truth slowly dawning on him. He didn’t know why, he couldn’t think of a thing he’d done to lose the Boss’ trust, but he sure knew a fucking rat when he smelled one. “A set-up.” He lifted his eyes to find Tony staring at him. Tony had the fucking balls to confirm it at the same time Mikey did.

  “Yes,” Tony said softly.

  Mikey’s voice was still panicky. “All of it.”

  Quinn swallowed and willed himself to stop shaking. “I owe you one, Mikey.”

  “Randy, good luck.”

  “Take care of yourself.” He hung up the phone knowing that, one way or the other, that had been the last time he would ever hear Mikey’s voice.

  Tony lowered the gun to the ground and put his hands in the air. His face was as pale as the snow.

  “So what exactly was your plan, Tony?”

  “We don’t have time, Quinn.”

  Quinn reached out, took hold of Tony by the front of his coat and slammed him up against the front door. “What was the fucking plan, Tony? Is that even your real name?”

  “Tony Cooper, I swear. Please, Quinn. I’ll explain everything but they’re coming. They’re going to kill you. This was always about you. Please. If you don’t trust me then leave me here but you have to go. You have got to go, Quinn.”

  Quinn’s head was spinning. He reached down and picked up the gun, then ducked back into the house and came back with the keys to his old truck. “Pick up the bag and let’s go.”

  Tony grabbed the bag and Quinn gave him a shove toward the garage. He’d take the truck. Not only was it better in the snow, they wouldn’t be looking for it and he might be able to drive right by them. He stopped by his BMW, pulled the burner phone from the glove compartment, and left his cell phone on the front seat.

  “Do you have a fucking phone?”

  “Yes. But I left it inside. I swear to you.”

  Quinn took a minute to pat Tony down and indeed found nothing, then hustled him into the garage. He opened the passenger side door to his truck. “Get the fuck in and lie down.”

  Tony did exactly as he was told.

  Quinn climbed over him into the driver’s side. The truck groaned and protested the cold but it started. It might be old and beat up but it was reliable as hell. He backed out of the garage and took off down the access road.

  “Tell me why.”

  “Boss said you’d become too arrogant, too entitled, and too much of a risk. They did the math, too, Quinn.”

  “Why not just shoot me when I showed up at the motel?”

  “They wanted me to find out where you sent your money, and whether anyone else knew about it. They were already pretty convinced you were going to run, and then you bought that car—”

  “An extravagance.” Shit.

  “Which meant you weren’t worried about finances.”

  “I have always been loyal!”

  Tony snorted. “Except for the last couple of days.”

  “Mostly loyal. What did you tell those fuckers? Did you call them? Did you tell them what our fucking escape plan is?” Quinn reached down and yanked his cap off Tony’s head, putting it on himself and pulling it low.

  “I did call them—I had to or they would have gotten suspicious. But I didn’t tell them anything about your plans or about us. I told them your money was in the Caymans. That I would get account numbers. I tried to throw them off, stall them, I swear to you. I thought I’d bought us at least three or four more days.”

  “Yeah? Maybe they were on to you.”

  “Shit. Y’think?”

  “So what was your fucking plan, Tony? You had my gun, they were on their way, when the fuck were you going to tell me what the fuck was actually going on?”

  “I think I was just about to when your phone rang.”

  “You think? What do you mean, you fucking think?”

  “Well, I also thought about waiting until they got here and shooting their faces off.”

  Quinn made a disgusted sound, and was about to ask another question when he spotted a black sports car headed in their direction. He checked his speed, sank down a bit in his seat and stared straight ahead. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he warned Tony, and pressed the Beretta to Tony’s temple with his right hand.

  Quinn held his breath as the car passed, then his eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. Everything seemed fine for a second but then the car’s fucking brake lights came on.

  “Fuck.” His truck was faithful, but it wasn’t fast. “Looks like I made the wrong call.”

  The sports car turned around and Quinn hit the gas. If this became a chase, they would lose. “Take this and stay down,” Quinn told Tony, handing him the gun. One thing he knew for sure, Tony wouldn’t shoot
him. He’d seen that clearly back at the house. “You know how to use it.”

  “Yeah,” Tony admitted. “I do.”

  “You have to get me some cover, okay? Slow them down. I’ll let you know when.”

  “Got it.” Tony rolled down his window.

  His hubs were locked. He always left them that way since he only ever used his pickup off road. But to get it into four-wheel drive he was going to have to shift into neutral and that meant losing speed. “Ready?” He pulled into the middle of the road so the boys wouldn’t be able to get around him. “Now!”

  Quinn shifted into neutral. Tony leaned out the passenger side window and fired twice.

  “They hit the brakes!” Tony shouted, ducking back in the window as the passenger in the car fired back. Quinn reached down by his right foot and shifted the pickup into four-wheel. “They slid all over the fucking place, too.” Tony fired again.

  Quinn nodded, throwing the truck back into gear. Perfect. He’d counted on that. He reached over, pulled Tony back inside and floored it. “Buckle up.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah, if you’re a praying type, now’s the time.”

  “Fuck that.”

  Quinn laughed. “Oh? I’d think twice about that because if this works and we make it, I’m going to kick your fucking ass, Tony. I swear to God.”

  Tony gave Quinn’s thigh a squeeze. “Any time.”

  Quinn patted Tony’s hand with his for a second, looking in the rear-view. “Come on, motherfuckers, that’s it, right up on my fucking bumper.” Quinn looked ahead again. “This will have to do. Hang on!”

  Everything in Quinn’s world went into slow fucking motion. He took a sharp right turn at the quarry, sending the pickup into a skid and up onto two wheels. He’d run a lot of off-road in this truck and he knew it could handle the stunt, but fuck if it didn’t get his heart racing every time. When all four wheels hit the road again, the pickup fishtailed. Quinn shifted to low gear to rein in the engine and stomped on brakes. The truck came to a stop and Quinn looked at Tony. They were both panting hard.

  “You okay?”

  “You are fucking insane!”

  Quinn laughed, adrenaline rushing wildly in his veins. “Yeah, well, we’re fucking alive at the moment.” He shifted again and backed the truck up, turning and heading back out to the main road. He looked left, then right, then turned right to follow the tire tracks. “Be ready with that gun, handsome.”