by AJ Lange
“Thank you,” Matt sighed, wincing as he tried to lean back and the point jarred against the seatback.
Gavin kissed his temple and shut the door, jogging around the bumper to the driver’s side. His hand shook as he tried to get the key in the ignition.
Matt squeezed his forearm with a bloody palm. “Take a breath, Gavin. I’m okay.”
Gavin closed his eyes, and took his advice, breathing deep. The coppery smell of fresh blood made him weak-kneed, because it was Matt, and he was exceedingly glad he was sitting down. “I’m going to kill this bastard,” he said quietly, meeting Matt’s eyes.
Matt squeezed Gavin’s arm again before clutching the t-shirt tighter around the wound. “Let’s try not to impale any other body parts first, okay?” he said, a weak smile pulling the corner of his mouth up.
Gavin turned the key and the Jeep roared to life. He drove.
Chapter 12
Gina must have dozed off, despite her best intentions to stay awake for the rest of the night, or maybe it was day; the truth was, she had lost all sense of time. She only knew that she did not want to lose a single ounce of awareness.
Dom would find her. She clung to that.
She awoke again with a start when a hand ran through her hair, fingers combing the tangled waves, catching on a knot. She bit her lip to withhold a scream.
“Such pretty, gold locks. Goldilocks,” the man crooned. “Did you know that in the original tale of The Three Bears, the bears were brothers and Goldilocks was a fox?” He leaned close, mouth too near her ear and Gina flinched away. “They ate him,” he whispered.
Gina shuddered. “Get off of me,” she whispered, steeling herself when his hand continued to stroke through her hair.
He chuckled, but sat back. “You are a pretty thing, I must say. Dom caught himself quite a looker.”
“How do you know Dom?” Her voice was sharp but still held the barest hint of quaver. He must have turned on additional lights because she could see him clearly now. He was handsome, inordinately so, with dark, dark hair and eyes. When he refused to answer her, his smile displayed a set of perfectly even white teeth.
“Oh me and Dom, we go way back. Practically family.”
“Bullshit,” Gina retorted, anger at hearing Dom’s name on this vile man’s lips overcoming her fear.
He laughed again, a rich, throaty sound that Gina suspected far too many women had succumbed to. She shivered when she wondered what their fate might have been. “Honest.” He held a hand over his heart in a gross mockery of sincerity. “Matthew is my brother.”
“Gavin’s Matthew?” Gina turned what information she had about the Laurel’s over in her mind; it might become important; unfortunately, there was very little. Gavin and Matt broke up shortly after she and Dom had gotten serious, so she had never had the opportunity to get to know the other man’s history. She knew they had all been childhood friends and neighbors. And that Gavin had never recovered.
“Gavin’s Matthew,” the man snorted. “I like that, I do. Is he still pining for him then?” He stood and paced to the cell door and back, his hands nervous and fidgety. “That makes this even more beautiful, really it does.” He smiled down at her. “Now. Have dinner with me?”
“Fuck you.” Gina’s voice was quiet and strong.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said drily. He cocked his head studying her and she scooted closer to the wall. The look in his eyes sent a cold sliver of fear up her spine.
“Dom will kill you if you touch me,” she warned, hoping like hell she sounded more confident than she felt. Please, Dom, hurry.
“As much as I’d love a good scrabble with little Dom Lorello now that he’s all grown up, and quite a handsome lad, I must say, I fear your knight in shining armor was doomed to fail from the start.” He lunged and Gina screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of the chamber. She struggled but the man was too strong, and he quickly manacled one of her wrists to the bed. She spat in his face when he paused at her head.
He blinked, then calmly dug into his trouser pocket and retrieved a handkerchief, dabbing at his chin. She cried out when he wrenched her other hand in his, feeling one of the small bones break. He took advantage of her sudden stillness and chained her free wrist.
“Now. Let’s make a present for your husband, shall we?”
Gina refused to struggle against the crude cuffs, lying silent on the thin mattress, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. Her hand throbbed painfully. She ground her teeth together; whatever happened, she would survive this. Dom would come for her.
Her heart stopped when the man produced a long pair of shears. She scrunched her eyes tightly closed and turned her head to the wall when he reached for her face. There was a slight tug on her scalp followed by a whisk, and she realized he had cut her hair. She struggled to move away from him, twisting and turning, a whimper escaping when he tried to grab another handful.
“Gina,” he barked, leaning on her chest and throat until he forced the air from her lungs.
Gina felt her vision blacken around the edges before he finally eased off. She gasped, coughing on each painful inhalation.
“These are sharp, angel.” The man turned the scissors, the blade glinting in the overhead light. “I wouldn’t want to cut your pretty face on accident.”
She forced herself to remain still, but no longer fought the tears as he cut off all of her hair. When he was done, he gathered the long, golden strands, bundling them in his hands, stroking them and whistling in admiration.
“Beautiful,” he murmured and winked at her. “One lock per year, I think. Tied in a sweet pink bow and delivered on your birthday. A lovely reminder, don’t you think?”
Gina refused to answer, looking away, unable to fathom how she must look now, feeling stupidly mournful over a pile of hair, when realistically she knew her very life hung in balance.
“Now, since you refused to eat with me, you will have to stay here. I brought a tray.”
“Fuck you,” she whispered again, eyes glassy and trained on the bare, grey walls.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He shrugged. “Nonetheless, I will leave the tray.”
He moved quickly, lying on top of her so suddenly that she moaned, shrinking into the mattress. She gagged, feeling his erection against her leg.
The man unchained her wrists, surprising her when he immediately stood without touching her further. She carefully held her aching hand, eyeing him warily.
“I suggest you eat, keep your strength,” he said, and Gina could hear the slight breathlessness in his tone. She swallowed back a spurt of nausea.
“No.”
He shrugged again, calmly unlocking the cell and closing it again with a click when he stood on the other side. “Suit yourself. When you fall unconscious from hunger or thirst, I shall simply revive you with intravenous fluids.” He gestured to the corner of the room and Gina’s eyes widened when she saw the hospital-grade IV-pole and bags of clear liquid.
“Not all the way of course,” he whispered, running a finger up and down one of the iron bars. “Just enough so that you won’t expire. That way, I can play as long as I like.”
Gina closed her eyes on his cruel smile, so at odds with his beautiful face; she knew it it didn’t matter. It would haunt her long after he left.
Later, when her stomach stopped churning, she forced herself to eat the sandwich and drink the milk he had left on the tray. No way in hell was she going to pass out and let that disgusting bastard play his sick games with her while she was unconscious.
She pointedly did not touch her head, unwilling to acknowledge the cool draft around her ears and scalp.
Gavin stopped at a tiny mom and pop pharmacy for supplies, retrieving a clean t-shirt from his duffel bag before venturing into the store. He used a bottle of hand sanitizer and a towel he kept in the trunk to clean the blood from his hands.
He unsnapped his waistband holster and crouched in the open passenger door, setting his
gun in Matt’s lap. “Hold this for me?” He winked cheerfully, but inside his worry kicked up a notch; Matt was pallid, his skin tinged grey.
“Gee, and it feels like only yesterday you were reading me my Miranda rights,” Matt teased.
Gavin chuckled, trying to ignore the strain in Matt’s voice. “Just try not to shoot anybody while I’m gone.”
“Gavin,” Matt called softly just before he shut the door.
“Yeah?”
“See if they have any Nehi grape.” Matt’s dry lips were turned up in a grin and Gavin’s heart clenched.
He hoped his return smile didn’t look as fake as it felt. His palms were sweaty and his pulse raced; he knew instinctively that he needed help with this one. “You bet, sweetheart, but don’t get your heart set on it. I haven’t seen a bottle of Nehi in fifteen years.”
In the pharmacy he bought over-the-counter painkillers, bandages, peroxide, antibiotic ointment, sewing needles and unflavored dental floss. When he returned to the Jeep with two plastic bags, he dropped them into the back seat. He tried not to react to Matt’s wince as he backed out of the angled parking space.
“You holding on?”
Matt nodded wearily, his dark hair flush against the headrest. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look so hot,” Gavin quipped, trying to lighten the atmosphere, quell the sinking fear he had that they were well and truly screwed.
Matt huffed a laugh. “Trade you places,” he rasped.
Gavin rested his palm on Matt’s thigh and squeezed. “I wish I could.”
A few miles down the highway, he stopped at a liquor store, the neon signs beckoning from the roadway. Once inside, he got out his phone, moving to the far back corner, out of view of the parking lot and away from prying ears at the register. He only knew one person even remotely local who he could call. Before he left the store, he bought two bottles of Jack Daniels.
When he returned to the Jeep with the telltale brown sack, Matt raised his eyebrows. “Nehi so risqué it comes in paper bags now?”
Gavin snorted. “Smartass,” he said affectionately. He leaned over to gently press his lips to Matt’s temple. He felt warm, his skin sticky and damp with sweat. “No Nehi, but I got you some good stuff.”
He looked worriedly into Matt’s eyes; the blue glazed and dull with pain.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Matt whispered, blinking slowly. “It’s just a splinter.”
Gavin laughed, returning to his seat and clicking his seatbelt into place. “Yeah, and Dom is the ugly one.” He frowned as he started the car. He hadn’t heard from Dom since this morning.
“Did you call him?”
Gavin glanced over to find Matt watching him. “Close your eyes,” he ordered gruffly, but he tempered the words by returning his hand to Matt’s leg. He sighed after a beat.
“And no. I didn’t call him. I’m trying to keep his phone line open, but it’s hard.” He chanced a look at the passenger seat when he bumped across a hole entering the highway, but Matt’s was resting, his lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks. As soon as they were settled in a new motel, and they had taken care of Matt’s wound, they were going to have to talk. About Drew, about Micah. Gavin still had questions, and the quicker he had answers, the quicker he could come up with a theory, and a plan for saving Gina.
“He’ll call when he can,” Matt murmured. He laid his hand over Gavin’s on his thigh.
Gavin chose an out of the way motel in a direction opposite of where they needed to go. He twisted and turned down state highways, avoiding the interstate and toll roads for miles, until he found a sleepy town with little to lure passing strangers save a quick stop overnight. He couldn’t risk Burke sending someone to track them, not yet. He also had to hope the older detective wasn’t so bull-headed as to not realize Matt must be innocent, since Gavin now provided the perfect alibi, at least for Gina’s abduction.
Even Burke at his most stubborn should be able to extrapolate from there.
Gavin immediately felt sick that he held even a momentary gladness that Gina’s horrific situation might in some way favor Matt.
He booked them a double for two nights, unsure how long before Matt would be comfortably able to travel. He would probably forfeit the second night’s fee, but he was willing to sacrifice for the peace of mind of not moving him more than necessary, if it came to that.
He helped Matt out of the car and into the small room. It was neat and tidy, and it smelled fresh, the air inside sweet and spring-like.
“It smells clean,” Matt said in wonderment, wincing as Gavin helped him sit on the edge of the bed.
“Welcome to small-town America,” Gavin quipped. “They probably clean it with real soap and everything. Wait right here.”
Matt nodded, seemingly stable as he held the bloody t-shirt to the base of the wound. Gavin hurried back out to the Jeep for his duffle and their supplies. He also sent a quick text with their location.
“Damn, I should have bought a pan or something, so you wouldn’t have to move to the bathroom.” Gavin frowned when he returned, eyes scanning the room for something that would work to hold water while they worked on the wound.
“I can manage, Gavin,” Matt said, reaching for a hand to help him to his feet.
“Hold on,” Gavin soothed, urging him back onto the bed.
“Hold on? I’d like to do something about the eight-inch piece of shrapnel in my chest, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Matt’s voice was deep, and testy. Gavin smiled against his skin, tucking his face into Matt’s neck.
“And stop smiling,” Matt complained.
Gavin pressed a quick kiss against the smooth skin. “Sorry,” he said quickly. He squatted beside the bed, his eyes pleading. “Matt—”
“What did you do?” Matt asked flatly.
“Nothing. I,” Gavin paused, squeezing Matt’s fingers where they lay under his on the bedcovers. “I called an old friend. He’s on his way.”
Matt sucked in a breath. “Gavin. ”
“Shut up,” Gavin said smoothly, dragging Matt’s hand to his mouth. He kissed his wrist, the only skin free of blood. “We can trust him. And he’s a medic.”
Gavin held his eyes until Matt sighed and nodded. “Fine. Fine.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Gavin squeezed his hand again and stood. “Now I’m going to get you nice and drunk.”
Matt snorted. “Well that escalated fast.”
Gavin smiled. “Jack here,” he wiggled the paper bag, “will have to do in lieu of anesthesia.”
Matt accepted the first tumbler of whiskey, wincing at the burn as it went down. “Couldn’t you have done vodka or rum or something less red-blooded American male?” He groused, taking another long swallow.
Gavin laughed lightly, taking his own sip. There was a reason he had bought two bottles, but it wouldn’t do for them both to be incapacitated, no matter how badly he craved the escape. “I forgot you were such a girl about your liquor. You and Dom.”
Matt made an ugly face as he threw back the rest of his glass in one drink. He shuddered. “I’m not even offended at that in the slightest. This tastes like shit.” He held out his glass. “Hit me again.”
Gavin grinned. “Attaboy.” He filled the glass with the amber liquid and watched carefully as Matt drank it. He could see the instant the whiskey began to work its magic, the tension around Matt’s eyes loosening, a bit of color flushing his cheeks. He sighed in relief.
“Better?” He asked softly, taking another sip.
“Mmm.” Matt shrugged and the immediately groaned, clutching at his chest. “Fuck,” he hissed.
Gavin tensed but Matt waved him off.
“I’m fine. Stupid and a little buzzed, but fine. When does your friend get here?”
Gavin shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe another fifteen minutes. More?” He held up the bottle and Matt nodded, throwing back his glass again. Gavin’s eyes latched onto his throat, following Matt’s Adam’s apple when
he swallowed. He flushed and hurried to pour again, the liquid sloshing over the side of the glass in his haste.
“Maybe you’ve had enough,” Matt joked, trying to catch Gavin’s eye. “You okay?”
Gavin set the bottle on the nightstand and rubbed a palm across his face. “Yes. No,” he mumbled from behind his hand. Here was Matt, impaled by a piece of rusty metal, and his pants were suddenly too tight because he was an asshole with no fucking shame.
“Gavin?” Matt swayed a little and Gavin reached over to steady him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Nothing, Matt. You’re hot, okay?”
Matt chuckled, eyes soft. “Somebody’s got it bad.”
“You’re telling me,” Gavin muttered, taking Matt’s glass from him and downing the liquid himself. He closed his eyes against the fiery bite of the whiskey. He felt something nudge against his boot and looked down to find Matt smiling up at him.
“You’re a real sweet talker, Gavin DeLuca,” he said, holding out a hand. “And if I wasn’t worried I might inadvertently stab you, I’d kiss the fuck out of you right now.”
Gavin grabbed the proffered hand and squeezed the fingers tight. “You’re only saying that because you’re a drunk fugitive and this could be your last night of freedom,” he scoffed good-naturedly.
“Says the cop who bought my whiskey.” Matt’s words were beginning to slur and Gavin smiled. Sweet Jesus, he was gorgeous, all droopy blue eyes and flushed cheeks.
They were still staring at each other with silly matching grins when there was a loud rap at the door.
Gavin unholstered his gun, pausing at the door to peer through the peephole. He sighed in relief and swung open the door with a wide smile.
“Gavin fucking DeLuca.” The black man’s voice boomed into the room. “As I live and breathe.”
“Levon,” Gavin said, clasping the man in a hard and fast hug. He stepped aside to allow him room to cross the threshold, jerking when he saw the large red container of medical supplies on the ground beside the door, a brutal reminder of the reason behind his old friend’s appearance. “Let me get that.”
