Connie Bailey - Miles to Go

by Connie Bailey

  Rick pointed his gun at the young man. “I’m warning you.” “Shoot me, then,” Billy dared him. “It would be a mercy killing. My life is over anyway if you’re not going to be in it.” “How could I ever believe a word that came out of your mouth?” Rick was goaded into saying. “You’ve made a career out of deception.”

  “And how is that so different from your job?” “I’m not listening to you anymore,” Rick said. “You’ll make everything sound reasonable in that creamy voice, and then you’ll befuddle me with that killer face and body and before my head stops spinning, you’ll be somewhere like Acapulco with all the money and I’ll be picking up the pieces.”

  “I understand that you don’t trust me,” Billy said. “I accept the consequences of my actions. However, nothing says I have to like it.” “You okay in there?” Paul yelled just as another round of gunfire began. This time there were a lot more guns as the men in the building arrived in response to the first shots. Bullets began to hit the armored van and it was apparent where the sniper had taken up a new position.

  “We’re going to be taking fire soon,” Rick said. “Get as far in the front as you can.”

  “Fuck that,” Billy said and hopped over Rick.

  “Stop!” Rick shouted as the kid put his hand on one of the back doors. A bullet flew past Billy’s cheek and slammed into an interior wall of the van. Rick threw himself at the young man, ignoring the pain of his wounded leg, as he grasped Billy’s ankle.

  “Wait,” Billy said, as Rick began hauling him backward. Lunging forward, the young man managed to grip the inside handle of the left door and pulled it closed. Another round zinged into the vehicle through the open space on the right, narrowly missing Billy. Desperately, Rick yanked on the kid’s leg, pulling him out of range as the other door slammed shut.

  “Idiot!” Rick yelled. “You could’ve been killed.”

  “And you care because?” Billy’s question took all the wind out of Rick’s sails. “You’re so smart,” Rick said. “Geordie told me that and damned if he wasn’t right. What a waste.” Billy’s eyes glittered with tears and Rick steeled himself against their power. “Oh please,” the cop said. “Not the waterworks, not you. Not the tough cookie that slept his way into Gareth Carey’s bed with the express intention of killing him. You’re just going to disillusion me if you cry.”

  “You took pity on me once before when I cried,” Billy said. “I thought it was worth another try.”

  Rick looked intently at the young man wiping wetness from his cheeks, but it was impossible to tell if Billy was serious or not. “You can come out now!” Paul yelled. “The sniper’s gone.” The van doors opened and Paul called over his shoulder. “Get an ambulance here; we have an injured officer.”

  “It’s not mortal,” Rick said quickly, as he sensed the tension in the air ratcheting up several notches. “Thanks for the assist, guys.” The police officers standing around the van with drawn guns began to disperse. The sound of a siren could already be heard as the EMTs approached. Paul took out his cuffs and started to put them on Billy.

  “You don’t have to bother with those,” Rick said. “The prisoner promised me he wouldn’t run.”

  Paul and Billy both looked at the wounded man as though he’d taken one in the head instead of the leg.

  “Whatever you say,” Paul shrugged, as the medics swarmed over Rick. “Get your boss up here,” Rick said from the center of a flurry of purposeful activity. Frowning in irritation, he beckoned Macross closer and spoke in the Brit’s ear. “We need the inspector’s influence to get Billy released to our custody so we can take him directly to a safe house. And no one else needs to know about it, okay?”

  Paul nodded as he straightened up. “I’m assuming that this was a hit arranged by friends of the late Gareth Carey, yes?” “You can bet whatever you like on that,” Rick said. “I caught a glimpse of the sniper as I was diving for cover. It was Geordie Cook, big as life. You can tell forensics to stop sifting for him at the blast site.”

  “Geordie?” Billy said. “No. That isn’t right. Geordie’s the king of the pragmatists. He’d cut his losses and run back to the UK.” “You sound so sure,” Paul said.

  “Gareth felt a particular loyalty for Geordie and a few other blokes from his old neighborhood, but it bloody well wasn’t reciprocal on Geordie’s side,” Billy said. “Geordie pretended he felt the same, but he was fucking Gareth in a very big way. Among other things Novacelli told me was the fact that Geordie and the extinct Kutters had their own deal going.”

  “Whatever his reasons,” Rick said, “Geordie was on the roof across the lot with a rifle.” “And he can’t shoot worth a tinker’s damn,” Billy observed. “You’re the only one wounded and it isn’t even life-threatening. Sorry, but it really isn’t that bad for a gunshot wound. Don’t you think it’s odd that Geordie couldn’t hit anyone else?”

  “The lad’s right,” Paul said. “Unless Geordie really is that bad a shot.” “If he was, he would’ve sent someone else to do the job,” Rick said. “Damn you, Billy. Why is everything about you so complicated? I should’ve shot you in the van when I had the chance.”

  “Easy, mate,” Macross said.

  “It’s okay,” Billy said. “It’s his way of apologizing.” “No, it sure the hell is not,” Rick said, as the EMTs finished up. “Come on,” the young man said. “Admit it. I’m not that bad.” “In the eyes of the law, you are,” Rick disagreed.

  “I don’t care about the law,” Billy answered. “It’s your eyes that matter.”

  “I told you to stop that,” Rick said. “I’m not letting my guard down just because I’m hurt.”

  “I didn’t think you would.” Billy walked away as Inspector Frehley arrived and beckoned to him.

  ~ Chapter Seventeen ~

  “CAN he really do that?” Rick asked. “Can he request a particular

  officer to guard him?”

  “Looks that way, hermano,” Graciela said.

  “I was there too, you know,” Rick pointed out. “They could use my testimony.” “You don’t have the kind of detailed info that the kid does,” she reminded him. “Looks like Gareth paid off quite a number of elected officials to look the other way.”

  “I just don’t see why we have to guard him.” “Why don’t you quit complaining? I get to work with Campbell some more, and you get to lounge on a comfy couch with a heroic wound and have control of the remote all day. What more could a man want?”

  Rick looked up at her from under his brows, as Billy entered from the kitchen.

  “What is that incredible smell?” Graciela asked. “Brownies,” Billy said. “They’ll be cool enough to eat in a minute. Why don’t you have one? Or two?” “Brownies? You are pure evil, chico,” Graciela said. “There is no greater temptation in all existence. Of course, I should just apply them directly to my thighs and bypass the whole eating thing.”

  Billy scoffed at her. “Look at you; you’re a rock. If you were in any better shape, people would mistake you for an aerobics instructor.” “Shut up!” Graciela said delightedly as she left for the kitchen. “Why are people always saying that to me?” Billy mused.

  “It’s not going to work,” Rick said for perhaps the twentieth time. “You can stop being all cute and domestic any time now.” “No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Billy said. “Since that’s what I’ve decided to be in my new life. I thought you’d be pleased that I’ve turned over a leaf, as they say.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” Rick said. “Do whatever you want.” A second later his arms were full of a warm, chocolate-scented body and a bold tongue was snaking past his lips. Rick put his hands on Billy’s chest and pushed the young man away. “Okay,” Rick said. “You get that one free because I chose my words carelessly. If you ever do that again, I’ll smack you without thinking twice.”

  “Won’t be the first time I’ve been smacked,” Billy said. “Come on, Rick. You don’t have to love me; just make love to me.” “The
re must be a language you understand ‘no’ in,” Rick said. “I just have to find it.”

  “What’s wrong with a little sex?” Billy wanted to know. “I’ll even take it easy on you since you’re wounded.”

  “Best offer you’ve had in a while,” Graciela said from the doorway. “Private discussion, Gracie,” Rick said.

  “I don’t mind if you stay,” Billy told her.

  “God damn it!” Rick cried out in frustration. “I thought you said you were resigned to the fact that you lost any chance of being with me.”

  “I know you can’t love me,” Billy said. “And I’m going to vanish soon. If I’m ever going to have a chance to sleep with you, this is it.”

  “And that’s important to you, is it?” “Why else would I be making such a fool of myself?” Billy asked. “Good point,” Graciela said through a mouthful of brownie. “Gracie,” Rick said, and his partner retreated into the kitchen.

  “Why do you want to fuck me so bad?” Rick asked with deliberate crudity. “Well, first of all, you’re hotter than the sun. I’ve never been so powerfully attracted to anyone. In a physical sense, I mean. I get hard if I hear your voice in the next room.”

  Rick raised his eyebrows.

  “I’m not exaggerating,” Billy said. “You have the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard.”

  “No one’s ever told me that before.” In the American’s vibrant baritone, Billy heard the echoes of Arthur’s voice, and he put a figurative finger over the ghost’s lips. Arthur was gone; the man that had haunted Billy’s memories for nearly two years had not been miraculously resurrected when Gareth died. Somehow, the young man would have to start living with that fact. No way was he going to make the same mistakes with Rick.

  Rick flinched back as the kid leaned over, but all Billy did was put another cushion under his bandaged leg. Not for any money would Rick admit it, but the ache lessened as soon as the limb was elevated. With a small frown, the detective watched Billy pick up his medication bottle from the end table.

  “This is the same amount that was in here yesterday,” the young man said.

  “I didn’t need any last night,” Rick said.

  “That’s why you’re gritting your teeth? Because you aren’t in pain?” “Leave me alone,” Rick said.

  “It’s kind of hard to do that when we’re living together.”

  “We’re not living together. You’re testifying for the prosecution and Graciela and I are guarding you in case Geordie decides to take another shot at offing you.”

  “It sounds so romantic the way you say it,” Billy said.

  “Go away, please. I’m trying to watch football.” “That’s hockey.” “Do you have a point?” Billy shook his head, grinning impishly. “Gracie!” Rick called. “Come and get the kid, please.” “I’ll go,” Billy said. “Would you like a brownie?”

  Rick struggled with himself for several moments before admitting defeat. “Yes, please,” he said. Graciela plopped down on the arm of the couch a few minutes later and handed Rick an enormous square of chocolaty, chewy, meltin-the-mouth lusciousness and a glass of milk. “I can see how hard you’re trying to hate the kid,” Graciela said. “So maybe you’d better not eat that. I had one half that size and I want to bear his children.”

  Rick rolled his eyes and took a bite. “Delicious,” he said grudgingly. “Why don’t you tell him?”

  “You know why.”

  “Come on, Rick. I know that what he did was wrong, but he had some raaaawther compelling reasons, as Campbell would say. We’re realists, hermano. We know there’s no such thing as justice or a fairytale ending. But even if we can’t live happily ever after, we are entitled to a little happiness occasionally. Why won’t you allow yourself that?”

  “With Billy?”

  “Yeah, with Billy. Why not? He loves you and you love him. Doesn’t happen every day.”

  “Why does everyone think I love him?”

  “You watch him when you think no one’s looking,” she said. “The longing in your eyes, ai Dios mio, it breaks my heart.” “Sorry,” Rick said. “Asshole. The least you could do is throw him a bone. Go in the kitchen and tell him you like his brownies. And stop smirking, you gutter-brained rump wrangler.”

  “Hand me my crutches, woman,” Rick said. “If it’ll shut the both of you up, I’ll hobble to the kitchen and have another brownie.” “You’re a good man,” Graciela said. “Want help?”

  “I can make it. Here, guard this with your life.”

  Rick tossed Graciela the remote control and limped out of the den area. As he negotiated the doorway to the kitchen, Billy quickly turned his back and busied himself at the counter. His suspicions easily roused, the cop hastened forward, catching the rubber tip of one of his crutches on a chair leg. If Billy hadn’t looked around at that moment, Rick would have taken a spill on the tiled floor. As the young man steadied him, the police officer saw the shine of dampness on the kid’s cheeks. Rick almost let it go without comment, but found he couldn’t. Annoyed by his weakness, he spoke brusquely. “What are you crying about now?”

  Billy shook his head, his throat too tight to allow the passage of words.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Rick asked. “Would it help if I told you that was the best damn brownie I’ve ever had?” Fresh tears overflowed and ran down Billy’s face. The young man grabbed a tea towel and furiously mopped the moisture away. “Sorry,” he said. “I…I’m sorry.”

  Rick sighed as the kid broke down completely. “Sit,” he said. “Tell me about it.” Billy dropped into the chair that had tripped Rick up. “I was ththinking about A-Arthur,” the young man stammered through his weeping. “He wuh-wouldn’t be too puh-proud of me.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he would,” Rick said. “Not the guy Paul told me about, anyway. That guy wouldn’t have condoned killing for any other reason than self-defense.”

  “I know,” Billy sobbed. “What have I duh-done?” Rick lowered himself into a chair next to Billy’s. “You avenged your friend,” he said. “But now you realize that you dedicated yourself to something unworthy, something your friend wouldn’t approve of. You wish you could take it back, but that’s not the way the world works.”

  “I killed someone and I can never make it right.” “Shhh,” Rick said, putting a hand over Billy’s. “You’re right; you can’t change it now, but you can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Never,” Billy vowed through his tears. “This is going to gnaw at me for the rest of my life.”

  “You’re right about that, I’m afraid,” Rick said. “It surely will. But it does get a little easier to bear after a while. A little.” “I wish…”

  “What?”

  “Forget it. You’ve turned me down in every way known to man.” “You really want me that much?”

  Billy nodded. “Call me shameless, but if I can guilt you into it, or rouse your sympathy, I won’t hesitate to use those methods. If I have to lose you, at least let me have one good memory to take with me.”

  Rick absently stroked the smooth skin of Billy’s forearm as he thought about it. “All right,” he said finally. “But let’s be clear. This is not a sympathy fuck. I’m going to make love to you because I want to. You caused Gareth Carey’s death, but I just can’t make myself believe that you’re evil at heart.”

  “I don’t want to be a bad person.” Billy’s tears began to fall again.

  “Hush, now,” Rick soothed him. “You’re not a bad person.” Arthur’s words on Rick’s lips nearly undid the young man, but he managed to speak. “How can you be sure?” he asked, as he’d not dared ask Arthur.

  “Well… I’m a good person, right?”

  Billy nodded his wholehearted agreement.

  “Would I love a bad person?”

  Billy shook his head.

  “Then you must be one of the good ones, too.”

  There was complete silence in the kitchen for a long moment before Billy swallowed audibly and cleared his t
hroat. “It’s too much,” he said. “I don’t deserve your love. Just make love to me, and I can go into the program with something to hold onto when I’m feeling blue.”

  “I’ll give you plenty to hold onto if you let me,” Rick said. “Just a second. Let me finish. You really put me through the wringer. No; wait. It was more like a blender. I’ve loathed you, pitied you, lusted after you, deplored you, loved you, hated you…and now I love you again. I said let me finish. The truth is I started loving you the second you flounced up to Gareth’s table and gave him a ration of shit, but I couldn’t let myself feel that way about the perp’s boyfriend no matter what my heart wanted.”

  “Finished?”

  “Yeah, I guess. All I’m saying is that I loved you all along, but I couldn’t, if that makes any sense at all.” “I’m afraid I’m going to start weeping again,” Billy said. “Come here.”

  Rick reached across the short space that separated them and pulled Billy into his arms. The young man returned the embrace, climbing onto Rick’s lap facing him, resting his cheek on top of the other man’s head. Rick ignored the doubts that bade him push Billy away, and hugged him tightly instead. Laying his head on Billy’s chest, Rick listened to the racing heartbeat and tried not to think so much.

  “I’d really like to kiss you,” Billy murmured against the other man’s jackstraw hair. Rick offered his lips to Billy. The reformed rent-boy regressed, diving on the proffered lips as though the meter was running, using all his wiles to arouse the other man with this caress. It worked as well as ever with one significant and crucial refinement. Rick’s response had the same kindling effect on Billy.

  “Um, I’m truly sorry to have to say this,” Rick drawled when their lips finally parted. “But could you get up?”

  “Oh, your leg! Fuck! I’m sorry!” Billy gasped.

  “No, it’s not my leg,” Rick said with a significant glance downward.

  Billy’s eyes fell to the swell at Rick’s crotch. “You sure?” he quipped. “Because it felt like a leg to me.”

  “Clown.” “But I’m your clown,” Billy said, cupping Rick’s chin with his palm, looking into a stare hot enough to melt steel. “Can I have another kiss?”