Trust And Obey

by Ts McKinney

  “His friend thinks maybe you should go fuck yourself,” Jagger said in a clear, calm voice. “Nobody’s going to accuse you of having any muscle formation.” Jagger snorted in disgust. “When was the last time you went to a gym, dude? Sitting behind a desk and kidnapping people has taken its toll on your waistline.”

  Landry bit his lip in fear. Jagger had no idea who he was dealing with. When he saw Bronson draw his hand back, he screamed. The scream was a fucking waste of time—the bastard punched Jagger in the face, sending his friend’s head slamming against the bloodstained wall.

  “Stop!” Landry screamed. “I’m the one you’re angry with, not Jagger. Leave him out of this. I’m the one that stole your merchandise. Take your anger out on me, asshole!” It sickened him to call those innocent children merchandise, but he guessed that’s what Bronson understood.

  Bronson stood up and straightened what was probably a ten-thousand-dollar suit. Turning back to Landry, he asked, “Do you know who I am? Did you learn my name during your time on the streets?”

  Landry knew there was a time for the truth and a time for a lie…and that this was the time for a lie. The dumber he acted, the smarter he was. He suspected there was absolutely no hope whatsoever that he and Jagger would get out of this alive, but he wasn’t giving up—not until the very last minute. He needed to live long enough to make Brookes pay for betraying him. The very thought that he could have fallen in love with a man that associated with the likes of Bronson Tildare sickened him. How could he not have seen past the friendly smile, soft words, and even softer eyes? He fucking knew better than to believe the bullshit Brookes had been heaping upon him!

  “I don’t know who you are or what the fuck you’re talking about,” he hissed angrily. “How would I know? Just because I lived on the streets for a while didn’t mean I associated with the fucking dregs of society. Even the drug addicted, child prostitutes I slept next to were better than you!” Oh shit, Jagger’s bravado was rubbing off on him.

  “That’s too bad, Landry Evans. If you knew who I was, you would understand that you needed to shut your fucking mouth. Pissing me off isn’t smart.” Bronson glanced back in Jagger’s direction and smirked. Jagger simply flipped him off.

  “I hate to say this but I’m going to enjoy killing you,” he told Jagger in a deadly voice. “Now, boys, I’m going to go get my computer and we are going to call up Colton and enjoy us some Face Time.” He looked at Jagger and said, “You’re going to stress to him the importance of him giving my boys back to me—Michael and Morgan. He’ll know who they are.” To Landry, he said, “You remember them, don’t you? You lured them off the streets over two years ago—damned near cost me a fortune. They were both very popular boys.” He sauntered back toward Landry. “I’m lying, of course. Taking Michael and Morgan off the streets didn’t really lighten my wallet at all—it’s the principle of it, Landry. I listened to the other owners complain about their boys and girls going missing, but they didn’t do a damned thing about it. Sure, they bitched and moaned, called you a thief, but that was about the extent of it. Things would have continued on very nicely for you, Colton, and Rory if you’d left my boys out of it. You didn’t, though. You had to go and fuck everything up, leaving me with no choice but to prove to everyone that I wasn’t a man to be toyed with. Take what’s mine and you’ll pay.”

  “They’re humans, they didn’t belong to you,” Landry said. “Anyway, Colton or Rory will never give them back. They’re kids, for fuck sake. They don’t belong to you and they don’t belong on the streets, whoring themselves to fatten your pockets.”

  Bronson smiled. “We’ll see. I have a feeling that when Colton sees his lover’s condition, he’ll be willing to do whatever I demand.”

  He clapped his hands together in glee. “Okay, let me grab my computer and we’ll get started!” As he walked past Jagger, he said, “Put your game face on, Wildcat. If you don’t convince your man to give me Michael and Morgan, you’ll be dead before nightfall.”

  As soon as he left the room, Jagger said, “Are you okay, Landry? I’ve been worried sick. I was afraid you weren’t going to wake back up.”

  “He’s going to kill us, Jagger. You know this, right?” Landry asked quietly. “If he doesn’t kill us, he’ll make us wish we were dead.”

  “Wildcat. He knew Colton called me Wildcat. He has somebody on the inside, doesn’t he?”

  “Brookes. I’m sure of it,” Landry answered.

  Jagger shook his head. “No, it was Sage. They were blackmailing him with his younger brother. Fuck, I hope the kid’s still alive. I’ve no doubt he was just another street kid that this idiot owned and abused.” One eye was swollen completely shut, but Jagger looked at Landry with his semi-good eye. “It wasn’t Brookes, Landry. I have no idea why he lied, but Brookes is in love with you. He isn’t involved with this shit.”

  “If he makes you do the talking, are you going to tell Colton to give him Michael and Morgan?” Landry asked, changing the subject away from Brookes. Treasure hunting? Brookes was nothing but a lying son of a bitch.

  “Of course, not,” Jagger answered quickly. “It’s like you said, we’re already dead. There’s no point in Michael and Morgan suffering, too.”

  Jagger seemed so fucking calm and once again, Landry found himself jealous of the other man’s strength. “I don’t think you’ll get the chance, Jagger, but the man’s name is Bronson Tildare. I do know him. He’s evil. He’ll kill us without a second thought and then he’ll go after Colton and Rory.”

  Jagger looked thoughtful for a moment. “Bronson Tildare? It seems like I’ve heard that name before. Should I know him?”

  “He’s in the news all the time—a big shot in New York City. He rubs elbows with the wealthy and powerful.” Landry laughed bitterly. “Yeah, he’s a nasty piece of shit, but I’m sure he’s had dinner at the Governor’s mansion more times than I’ve had a Cuban down on Key Lime Alley. Fucking bastard,” he muttered in disgust.

  “Bronson Tildare,” Jagger repeated. “Spell it for me.”

  Frowning, Landry did as he asked. “Why? What are you thinking?” Hope blossomed in his chest. Jagger was one of the smartest people he knew, maybe he could come up with something to save the day.

  “Don’t go getting excited, Landry. I don’t have any tricks that’ll save us…but I might have something that will help Colton and Rory, if they go to the cops, of course.” He shook his head. “Knowing them, they’re trying to fix this on their own.”

  “Where are we, anyway? Are we in New York?” Landry asked. Having been knocked unconscious, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

  “Nah, if I timed it right, we were only in the van for about forty-five minutes. My guess is we are somewhere near Haven so he can grab the boys, too.”

  Footsteps outside the door silenced both of them.

  Chapter 14

  Colton and Brookes paced the small confines of the room they’d set up at Haven. Rory glared at Brookes with each step he took. Riley was busy fighting back tears. They hadn’t heard anything from the kidnappers and he knew this could only be bad news. The one and only bright spot was that Sin called and said Sage survived surgery. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but he’d survived. Riley knew he should probably hate the kid because Sage was ass deep in Landry and Jagger’s abduction, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Sage was a good kid. If he was involved, Riley wanted to hear his reasons before he wrote him off as a human being. Colton, Rory, and Brookes, on the other hand, wanted to get what information they could from him and then kill him. End of story.

  “How long are we going to sit around and do fucking nothing?” Rory roared in frustration. “Landry and Jagger are family! We can’t just sit here twiddling our thumbs when they could be…”

  “Shut up, Rory!” Colton demanded. “Don’t you fucking say it, we will get them back. Whatever this man wants, we’ll give it to him. I can’t…I can’t think about it ending any other way.”

  Bef
ore anybody could argue with him, Colton’s cell phone started ringing. He nearly broke his neck diving across the room to grab it. An unidentified number popped up. This was it.

  “Colton,” he barked into the phone.

  “Good afternoon, Colton. I appreciate you taking my call. I have a friend of yours that would like to talk to you. Could you squeeze in a little Face Time on your computer?”

  Nausea swept over Colton. He damned well knew there was a reason for Face Time—whoever had Landry and Jagger wanted him to see the damage that they’d already done. He could do this. He could bring Jagger back home. He had to bring Jagger back home. “Of course,” he answered in a submissive voice. “Let me get my computer set up. I’ll be waiting for your call. It’ll just take a few seconds.”

  “The cops aren’t there, are they, Colton?” The voice asked. “That would be a shame if they were—a shame for Jagger and Landry, that is.”

  Colton gritted his teeth together. “You said not to involve the cops, so we didn’t. We aren’t fools. We want Landry and Jagger back alive. We’ll do whatever you ask us to,” he assured the man on the other end of the phone as he got his laptop ready for Face Time.

  “Glad to hear you’re a smart man,” the man answered. “Who is there, if you don’t mind me asking?” He chuckled. “I’m just trying to keep you honest, young man.”

  Colton frowned, but Brookes nodded for him to go ahead and answer the man.

  “Me, Rory, Riley, and Jericho Brookes,” he answered. “We’re at Haven, awaiting your instructions.”

  “Ah, you figured there was a connection, didn’t you? That’s fine, perfectly fine.” He coughed. “I have to admit that I’m surprised you allowed Jericho Brookes into your inner sanctum. Do you think that was smart?” With that bombshell, he hung up on Colton.

  Deathly silence fell over the room as every eye fell on Brookes. The big man didn’t seem to be at all affected by their accusing glares. “He’s messing with you, Colton. He’s trying to drive a wedge between us. Trust me on this.”

  “I trust you on nothing,” Colton hissed in fury.

  Colton’s laptop chirped to indicate he had a call.

  “Can you record it?” Brookes demanded.

  Colton hurried pushed the proper buttons to record the call and then answered. Jagger’s face, bruised and bloodied stared back at him. His lover, the man that owned his heart, was tied to a chair in front of a computer. His face was a mess. What appeared to be a gunshot wound caused his right shoulder to twist at a weird angle. His arms were tied to the arms of the chair and Colton could see the bruising covering every inch—even his fingers looked broken. Tears immediately pooled in his eyes and his heart threatened to stop beating.

  “Hey, babe.” Jagger’s voice, weak but steady, came through the line. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Wildcat,” Colton answered. His voice wasn’t at all steady. It was broken. He was broken.

  Jagger attempted to smile. “Thank you for that,” he said. “I needed to hear you call me my nickname.” For the last time wasn’t said…but implied.

  “I don’t have all day, blue eyes. Tell Colton what I’m after. This will all be over as soon as I get what I’m after. I get what I want and Colton gets what he wants. We’ll all be happy.”

  “He wants Michael and Morgan, Colton. He says they belonged to him and you stole them.”

  The only sign that Jagger was nervous was the tapping of his fingers against the chair arm. Other than that, the man he loved looked determined…and resigned. Jagger knew he was going to die.

  “He wants the boys,” Jagger continued, “but we both know that will never happen. Make sure you put them someplace safe, someplace where he’ll never find them. Protect them, Colton, because that’s what you do.”

  There was screaming coming from the man and then the feed went dead. Colton heard a wail of agony but it took several seconds for him to realize it was coming from his mouth. Jagger had disobeyed the man’s instructions. Jagger could already be dead.

  Colton knew his life would be over if Jagger wasn’t in it. Unsure of how to handle his grief, he shoved back from the table and tried to stand up. He needed to run…to hide…to kill. Brookes’ hand on his shoulder pushed him back down into the chair.

  “Play it again, Colton,” he demanded as he stood over Colton’s shoulder.

  “No! I can’t watch it again! That mother fucker maybe killing Jagger right now!”

  “Play. It. Again.” Brookes’ tone left zero room for argument but on top of that he added, “If you really believe Jagger’s life is in danger, play it again.”

  Colton clearly didn’t understand, but there was no questioning that he’d do anything to keep Jagger safe. He rewound the video and pushed play again. “What are you looking for? Will he kill him just because he refused to ask me to release Michael and Morgan? Did you see something in the background? Talk to me, Brookes. Give me some kind of hope,” Colton demanded.

  “Hope? What hope can he give you? He’s probably involved, Colton. Hell, we’ve never believed in coincidences. Why would we start now? Brookes shows up, Jagger and Landry are abducted. He’s involved!” Rory, even with Riley massaging his shoulders to try and soothe his mental anguish, was convinced of Brookes’ guilt.

  Brookes watched the short video, his forehead crinkled in a frown as he stared at Jagger…listened to what Jagger said…watched Jagger’s every movement. “Again,” he ordered when the video ended. This time, he pulled out his cell phone and held it up in front of Colton’s laptop, like he planned on videoing what could very well be the last time any of them would see Jagger alive.

  “Again,” he snapped when Colton didn’t move fast enough.

  “What are you doing?” Colton hissed. “Videoing him for your own entertainment…or videoing us so you can send it to the bastard that’s holding Jagger and Landry captive?”

  Brookes’ eyes narrowed. “Time is not on our side, Colton. Play it for me again. I’m sending this to one of my Special Forces team members. There’s something on here I want him to see.”

  Colton immediately pressed the button to make it play again. He wasn’t sure he believed Brookes, had no reason to believe the other man, but the hope that Brookes held some sort of miracle was all he had. “What? What do you think you’re seeing?” he asked as Brookes taped the short video and pushed some buttons to send it to…whomever.

  Brookes looked down at Colton and asked, “Would there be a reason for Jagger to know Morse Code?”

  If Colton hadn’t been so heartbroken, he would’ve laughed. Morse Code? Jagger? Not only was Morse Code outdated, but Jagger had never been involved with the military at any portion of his young life. What game was Brookes playing at? He opened his mouth to tell the imposter to fuck off, but Riley cut him off.

  “That’s exactly something Jagger would know!” He looked at Colton and said, “You know he would, Colton. He knows all sorts of weird shit that the rest of us wouldn’t or couldn’t begin to understand.” He turned to Brookes and said, “Why are you asking? What did you see? I didn’t hear any tapes or anything like that. Isn’t that what Morse Code is?”

  “You’re correct, Riley, but it can also be used with signals. Jagger was tapping the arms of the chair the entire time. I think he might’ve been trying to tell us something.”

  “I think you’re full of shit,” Rory bit out. “Jagger’s a nervous person. He’s been through hell in his life. He has triggers and has shit that he does to deal with them. If he was tapping, it was because he was fucking nervous!”

  Brookes glared at Rory. “Rory, you’re starting to piss me off,” Brookes warned. “I’ve tried to be quiet and understanding since I know I lied to you guys, but could you please just shut…the…fuck…up.” His cell phone beeped, blocking Rory’s response out. “Talk to me,” he said as he answered his cell. “Are you sure? Tell me what you’ve got,” he demanded. A frown curved his lips. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”


  “What? What’s he saying?” Colton demanded. Excitement cascaded over him as the first glimpse of hope fought its way to the surface. “Was it Morse Code? Was Jagger telling us something?”

  “Stand by,” Brookes said. “I may need help.” Brookes smiled at whatever the person on the other end of the line said, and then disconnected the phone. Looking at Colton, Rory, and Riley, he asked, “Does the name Bronson Tildare mean anything to you all? Have you had any run-ins with somebody by that name?”

  Coltons’ face crumpled. “Bronson Tildare? Are you certain?” He shook his head. “There must be some mistake.”

  “My friend doesn’t make mistakes,” Brookes argued immediately. “Who is he?”

  Colton collapsed in the nearest chair.

  “He’s some bigshot anthropologist that lives in New York City. He’s a rich sonofabitch that donates loads of money to the LGBT community—a huge spokesman for keeping kids off the streets. He’s…he’s friends with mine and Colton’s families. He’s a good man…at least that’s the image he portrays.” Suddenly compliant, Rory turned to Colton and said, “We’ve never liked him, Colton. We’ve never trusted him. We’ve always known there’s something shady about him,” Rory whispered.

  Brookes started tapping buttons on his phone. “Motherfucker! Are you fucking kidding me?” He bellowed in outrage. “The first fifteen Google searches are fucking pictures of him with the Governor of New York! Mother fuck!”

  “It’s not a mistake,” Colton mumbled. Looking up at Rory, he said, “You’re right, Rory. We’ve always known there was something…off with him.” He stood up and tossed a chair across the room. “I’ll kill that bastard for touching Landry and Jagger. I’ll fucking kill him.”

  His laptop started ringing again, causing everyone in the room to jerk in surprise. Brookes grabbed Colton and said, “Don’t let him know that we know who he is, Colton. Talk to him, promise him whatever the fuck you have to, but don’t let him know. Jagger and Landry’s lives depend on it,” he stressed. “Can you do it, Colton? Look at me and tell me you can pull this off.”