Connie Bailey - Miles to Go

by Connie Bailey

  “Rick, don’t!” Billy cried out.

  Rick froze in his tracks, but he didn’t look at Billy. He continued to glare at Carey, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Don’t make him shoot you,” Billy said. “I am a whore. Or I was, anyway. The truth doesn’t hurt me.”

  “The hell it doesn’t,” Rick said. “The truth’s the most painful thing I can think of.” “Enough of this sparkling banter,” Gareth said. “I’ve changed my mind. Billy, tie Rick’s hands with his belt. I think watching me fuck you will hurt him a lot more than a bullet in the gut.”

  “Finally you get down to the real reason you’re here: your less than adequate dick.”

  “I will really miss you, mate,” Gareth said. “However, Billy’s tongue is just as sharp and he’s prettier than you. No offense.” “No offense taken,” Rick said. “Billy, do what he says, okay? Don’t make him shoot you; promise me.” Billy nodded as he rose slowly, making a production of it. He slid languidly from the bed and sauntered across the room to pick up Rick’s belt like one of Chippendales’ finest. As Gareth’s eyes tracked the sweet moves, Rick made one of his own. Surging up from the mattress, he launched himself at the armed man. Gareth saw the sudden motion in his peripheral vision and swung the gun around before he turned his head. He fired blindly and the round entered the wall three feet to Rick’s right. Billy hit the drug lord from the side, as Gareth pulled the trigger again, and again the bullet went wide. Gareth landed hard with the kid uppermost and grabbing for the gun. Using his superior mass, Gareth rolled Billy beneath him. Rick grasped one of Gareth’s shoulders and socked him hard on the jaw. The silenced weapon went off between Gareth and Billy, and Rick yanked harder, pulling the fugitive off the young man. Billy held fast to the weapon, as Gareth’s finger tightened on the trigger. A round thunked into the carpet next to Billy’s head, as Rick landed another blow, rocking Gareth and breaking two of Rick’s fingers. Still, the gunman refused to go down. Wrapping his hands around Gareth’s throat, Rick began to throttle him. Gareth tried to turn the gun on Rick, but Billy’s grip remained firm. As his air ran out, the drug lord struggled frantically, but he was held in an unbreakable grip. After what seemed an eternity, Hairy Carey’s eyes rolled up and he went limp. As the big man toppled, taking Rick with him, Paul Macross appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. He stared at the three entangled men and recognized Gareth.

  “Fuck me!” Paul exclaimed. “It’s Carey.”

  “Yeah,” Rick said. “It turns out he’s not entirely dead after all.”

  Paul came into the room and knelt to put cuffs on the unconscious Gareth. “I thought it was Geordie Cook.”

  “And I thought he killed you,” Rick said.

  “Kevlar, mate,” Paul said, rapping his chest. “Been wearing it since Novacelli shot me.”

  “Smart man. Paul’s a smart man, isn’t he, Billy?”

  Rick looked down and realized Billy was too still, and that there was far too much blood on and around him.

  “Shit!” Rick said, touching the kid’s cheek. “Billy!”

  “Just a few more minutes, Mum,” Billy mumbled. “And then I’ll get up. Promise.”

  “Thank God,” Rick said. “I thought you’d been shot.” Billy blinked and let Rick help him up. “No, I’m okay; just a little shaken. This is Gareth’s blood.” Paul was already talking into his radio. In addition to the backup he’d called for when he came to, he arranged for an ambulance. The British agent stayed to guard Gareth while Rick and Billy went to check on the other people in the house. The two men found Graciela tied to a chair, inching her way to Campbell’s body. Campbell lay in a distressingly wide pool of red on the living room floor, but he was breathing and had a pulse. Rick freed Graciela as Billy did what he could for Campbell. They could already hear the faint wailing of sirens as cruisers and rescue vehicles turned off the highway. In minutes, the house was teeming with official personnel that quickly, efficiently, and dispassionately took charge. Before those directly involved in the murder attempt had time to catch their breath, they found themselves hustled into ambulances.

  Graciela insisted on riding with Inspector Frehley, but before the vehicle began to move, she made a sudden decision. With a last look at Campbell, so pale against the stretcher, she opened the rear door and jumped out. As she set off at a trot, she called back to the strapping EMT. “Take good care of him or it’s your ass, pendejo.”

  The medic nodded and held up his hand in a pledge as he shut the doors. The siren wound up again, and the ambulance drove away, following the one that transported Rick and Billy. Graciela borrowed a riot gun from an unattended cruiser and approached the car that Gareth was in. As Graciela walked up, the young cop behind the wheel started the engine, but he didn’t hit the lights and siren just yet. Politely, he rolled down his window and waited for her.

  “Good evening, officer,” Graciela said. “I see you have Mr. Carey in the backseat. I was wondering if I might have a word with him before you go.”

  The officer kept his head down, the brim of his cap shading his face as he answered. “Afraid I can’t do that, ma’am,” he said with a soft Latin accent. “My orders are to take care of him immediately.”

  “It’s very important, carnale,” she lowered her voice. “He tried to kill my partner.”

  “I understand, ma’am. Believe me, I do, but I can’t allow you access to him. Now if you’ll excuse me.” “I don’t excuse you,” Graciela said harshly, swinging the sawedoff shotgun up to point at the other officer. To her surprise, she was looking down the barrel of a very big bore gun. Carefully, she lowered hers and held her arms away from her body. “That’s no cop’s gun,” she said.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let everybody else know right away,” the imposter said. “And I promise not to drill a big hole in that gorgeous face of yours.”

  “Chingate!” Graciela swore. “You’ll never get away with this, cabron. Even if you and Gareth get away, we’ll find him again, and we’ll find you, too.”

  “You got me all wrong, chica,” the young man chuckled. “My name’s Hector, but the ladies call me El Toro, and I don’t work for Carey. I’m outside talent brought in by friends of the late, great Antonio Marcial.”

  Graciela’s jaw dropped as Hector put the car in gear and drove away over the lawn until he reached the road. The cruiser picked up speed, its taillights disappearing down the tunnel of the trees. Graciela stood and watched in silence as the perp got away. When the police car turned onto the highway, Officer Cruz walked back to the house and made a preliminary report. Not once did she mention the strange officer that had taken Carey to be booked. She was concise and extremely brief and left as soon as possible for the hospital. Rick and Billy met Graciela in the emergency room waiting area and assured her that Campbell’s chances were good. Apparently, Gareth was a very bad shot, as Billy had once observed. Relieved, Graciela ordered her partner to get some rest.

  “Hold on a minute, detective,” Captain Little said as he came through the door. “You’re not in charge here. Not yet anyway. We can’t just let Mr. Rosen go in Officer Miles’ custody.”

  “Why not?” Graciela asked. “Carey’s being incarcerated as we speak, so he’s no longer a danger and…” “Um, yeah,” Walter Little said. “About that. It appears that one of our cruisers is missing and so is Gareth Carey. Two officers who were found unconscious at the safe house say that they were hit from behind while escorting Carey to the car. So it appears he had an accomplice we didn’t know about.”

  “Call it a hunch,” Graciela said, “but I don’t think Gareth’s going to bother us again.” “Your hunches notwithstanding,” Little said, “I think I’ll follow police procedure. As unfamiliar with it as you may be, I’m going to insist that you humor me and at least fake it.”

  “Whatever you say, captain,” Rick answered, forestalling his partner’s comment. “How soon can you get us to a new safe house?” “I can answer that,” Paul Macross said, as he joined
them. “I’ve been on the phone for the last hour with my superiors back home and they’ve been on the phone with the higher-ups here in America. Your people are going to accept Billy and Rick’s oral and written testimony in lieu of court appearances.”

  “Why would they do that?” Little asked. “Because when Gareth Carey is caught, he’ll be extradited to England to stand trial for the murder of DCI Arthur Oldham. Billy was the only witness to the crime, so we’ll need him over there. I just received permission to book a flight.”

  “When?” Billy asked.

  “As soon as we can get to the airport,” Paul told him. “The sooner you’re away from here, the safer you’ll be.” Billy turned to look at Rick, more panicked than he’d been the entire time his life was in danger. Rick closed his hand reassuringly over Billy’s cold fingers and addressed Paul and Walter.

  “Billy’s not going anywhere without me,” he said.

  “Then I guess I’d better book another ticket,” Paul said without blinking.

  As the Brit took out his cell phone and considerately walked out of the waiting area, Captain Little gave Rick a stern look.

  “Have you thought about this?” the captain asked.

  “I have,” Rick said. “If leaving now means I lose my job, then so be it.”

  “That’s too bad,” Little said. “I hate to lose a good cop like you.” Rick’s throat grew suddenly tight, making it hard to speak. “It means a lot to me that you think I’m a good cop,” he said. “But I’m beginning to think that my place isn’t on the force.”

  “There are a lot of other ways to fight crime,” Graciela said softly.

  “Hey,” Rick said. “I know this comes as a complete surprise, but…”

  “No it doesn’t,” she said. “I’ve always known you were a romantic. Follow your heart, hermano. It’s your best destiny.” Rick swept his partner up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and into his very comfortable embrace. Graciela hugged him back fiercely, whispering in his ear as they clung together for several long moments. When Rick released her and stepped back, he winked before kissing her goodbye. The captain shook Rick’s hand and Billy hugged Graciela as Paul came to collect his charge. Paul shook Walter’s hand as well and promised to stay in constant touch; Campbell was still in surgery, and Paul was anxious for updates. Looking nervous, but determined in his first outing as team leader, Paul shepherded Rick and Billy out of the hospital.

  Less than an hour later, they were sitting in the first-class cabin of a 707-jetliner bound for their layover in New York City, before they traveled on to London. Paul had impressed upon the flight attendants the need for discretion and privacy. He was assured that no one would bother him and his companions unless the call button was pushed.

  “Yuck,” Billy said succinctly. “I feel as if I’ve been wearing these clothes all my life.” “I hear you,” Rick said, getting settled in the very comfortable seat and raising the arm that separated his chair from Billy’s. “I must smell like the monkey cage at the zoo.”

  Billy put his head on Rick’s shoulder and sniffed audibly. “You smell sexy,” he said.

  “You’re deluded,” Rick answered. “But I love you and I’m looking forward to finishing what we started.”

  “There’s always the mile-high club,” Billy suggested. “I’m afraid that would put me in the six-feet-under club right now,” Rick answered. “And anything good is worth waiting for.” “I can’t believe what a square you turned out to be.” Billy smiled. “I remember my first sight of you in those tight leather pants, all golden and glowering, like a rogue lion on the prowl. Talk about lies in advertising.”

  “I am a rogue lion on the prowl, babe,” Rick said. “But it’s a fact that lions spend most of their time sleeping.” “True,” Billy conceded, as Rick’s arm settled around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “What do you suppose lions dream about?” he asked drowsily.

  “I know what square lions dream about,” Rick said, his lips brushing Billy’s forehead. “I like squares,” Billy said. “If they come equipped with long round pegs.” Fetching a deep sigh, the young man spoke again, his voice blurry with exhaustion. “What do square lions dream about?”

  “Their mates, of course,” Rick murmured. “Square lions are monogamous.”

  “I wanna be a square—.” Billy dropped off to sleep in midsentence. Rick smiled and levered his seat back a little farther. Billy snuggled closer and Rick’s arms tightened around the young man. Resting his cheek on top of Billy’s head, the soon-to-be ex-cop watched the sky get lighter as they flew toward the sun, until he couldn’t stay awake any longer. As his eyes shut and stayed that way, he gave thanks that he had someone to fall asleep with.

  ~ Epilogue ~

  Rick kicked at the emerald turf, scattering crystal droplets from the drizzle that had freighted the breeze all morning. There was a chill in the English spring air that wasn’t present in Southern California even in winter, but Rick was well armored against the bone-deep damp that pervaded everything. Lifting his gaze from the ground, the ex-cop found the only warm spot in the day.

  Billy stood about fifty feet away with his hands in the pockets of his long coat, newly shorn hair plastered to his cheeks and forehead in dark commas. His fingers rested lightly on the top curve of a sparsely decorated monument. As his lips moved in words Rick could not hear, Billy absently stroked the polished stone.

  “They found his body and identified the pieces a few hours after we landed at Gatwick,” Billy was saying. “Whatever Gareth may have done in his misbegotten life, I’m not sure anyone deserves to go like that. I guess I’ve lost my stomach for vengeance if I can pity him. Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that it’s really over. I probably won’t be coming here as much now, but I think you’ll be pleased at the reason. I brought a Yank back with me, and he seems awfully keen. He reminds me so much of you that sometimes I expect him to speak with your brogue. He’s not you though,” Billy drew his sleeve quickly across his eyes and took a shaky breath. “And I’m glad. I’ll always love you, Arthur, but I know now that you were just trying to help a lost boy. You could never have seen me as a lover. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just the way the world made us.” Billy glanced over his shoulder at Rick and then back down at the name and the dates carved into the granite. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” the young man said. “I wish you had lived. I would have liked Rick to meet you. This is the best I can do: I promise never to do anything you would be ashamed of. Goodbye, Arthur. I’ll never forget you.”

  Billy turned from Arthur’s grave and walked purposefully toward Rick. Rick put his arm around the young man’s shoulders and Billy put his around Rick’s waist, as they kept moving toward the car. Quickly getting inside the big sedan, they reveled in the warm air blowing out of the vents.

  “Did you say what you needed to?” Rick asked.

  Billy nodded. “It’s been a weird forty-eight hours,” he said. “The only sleep we’ve had was on the plane.” “We’ve organized accommodations for you,” Paul Macross said from the front seat. “Inspector Frehley is already trying to run things from a hospital bed in America, but I prevailed on this one. If you’re ready, PC Parker will drive us to the rooms I booked.”

  “You just got my vote,” Rick said, sitting back against the tobacco-brown leather as the big car moved into the stream of traffic. In one of the oldest districts of the city, the officer coasted to a stop in the courtyard of a venerable U-shaped stone building. PC Parker got out and opened the door on Rick’s side.

  “Where are we?” Billy mumbled, raising his head from Rick’s shoulder. “This was an abbey until the fourteenth century,” Paul said. “It’s been a few things since, but now it’s a bed-and-breakfast. Just go through the gate. Here’s the key to cottage number four. It’s all arranged.”

  “Thank you,” Billy said, holding out his hand.

  Paul took the young man’s hand and pulled him into a hug. “You really gave me a hard time, Mr. Willem Rosen,” Paul sai
d. “I spared no one,” Billy answered. “I was an awful pill.”

  “No argument there, mate.” Paul grinned as he held out a hand to Rick. Rick hugged Paul, thanking him for the million and one strings Rick knew Paul must have pulled to make things so smooth for him and Billy.

  “Look me up if you want a job,” Paul said as he got back in the car.

  “Anything’s possible,” Rick said, as he walked away with Billy. “Alone at last,” Billy said as they crossed the lovely formal garden to the sweet little stone cottage with an ornately embellished number four painted on the door. Within they found the space divided into a sitting room, bedroom, and small bath with a fire already lit in the hearth. The bathroom was stocked with toiletries, to Billy’s delight. “I’m having a quick bath and shave,” the young man said from the doorway.

  Rick walked over and enveloped Billy in his embrace. “Of course you are,” he said. “But first, I’m going to get you good and dirty.”

  “No!” Billy protested, pulling away. “I need to be clean before we start.” “No you don’t,” Rick disagreed. “Despite my words, there’s nothing dirty about making love, babe. And you don’t need to be scrubbed and perfumed to attract me. I won’t be put off by your sweat, or anything else that comes out of you. When I said I loved you, I meant all of you, not just the nice bits.”

  “Are you saying there are bits of me that aren’t nice?” “Well, maybe one or two,” Rick teased.

  “Point them out,” Billy said. “I’m totally into self-improvement.” “I’ll have to take your clothes off first.”

  “I was going to take them off anyway. I don’t normally bathe in my clothes.” “Smartass.”

  “Well then, I guess that’s one area that’s nice enough already.”

  “From what I’ve seen, it’s outstanding,” Rick said, working buttons and zippers until Billy stood naked in front of him. “Outstanding?” Billy raised an eyebrow.