The First Three Rules (29 page)

“Do not fuck with me. You either do this my way and get on your knees or I will blow your head off just like this and get my kicks elsewhere. I’m willing to bet Queer Boy begs real pretty.”

“Touch him and I will kill you.”

Lenny laughed. “Yeah, and how you going to do that when you’re nothing but bones left to be buried? The ground here’s real hungry, Mr. Marshal. It don’t even leave anything left for the coyotes.”

“Firsthand experience?”

“You have no idea. Now, on your knees.”

“Fuck you.”

Lenny smashed the butt of the gun against Jon’s shoulder. Pain streaked through his collar bone and down his spine. His injured knee folded.

He was not going to kneel to this asshole. The only way Lenny would ever get Jon to kneel was to shoot him in the head and then pose his body.

Jon’s leg muscles strained with the effort to keep standing. He straightened up.

Lenny’s cocky smirk disappeared. “Last chance, Mr. Marshal, before I make you.”

“And I’ll say it again, in case you didn’t hear the first time. Fuck. You.”

Lenny lowered the gun and fired. A streak of white hot pain pierced Jon just above the knee, tearing out the meat of his lower thigh. He screamed when his knees connected with the ground.

“That’s better, faggot. Of course, you probably have a lot of practice with that position.”

Jon strained against the weight of his own skull to lift his head. “What’s wrong? Girlfriend not putting out? Or maybe she just can’t find it.”

Lenny grabbed the back of Jon’s head and slammed his face into his knee. Jon caught movement in his periphery and was able to dodge a kick to the head. Lenny made up for it by stomping his ribs. The air whooshed out of Jon’s lungs, blowing the blood in his throat across the grass.

“I ought to cut that tongue out of your smart mouth.” Lenny rolled Jon over onto his back. Wet pennies flavored every swallow. The world around Jon swam and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Don’t fight it, Jon. You wanted this, remember? You just weren’t man enough to do it.

He did want this. But that was a lifetime ago. Before Ellis filled him with the hunger for life.

Beyond the skeletal branches, the blue sky was a lot like that day in the park when Jon had been hunting for death. Now death hunted him.

Blades of grass caressed Jon from head to toe.

Lenny planted a foot on either side of Jon’s hips and aimed the gun a Jon’s face. “Don’t worry, Mr. Marshal. I’ll make sure Queer Boy doesn’t get lonely.”

“Jon.” His name brushed the shell of his ear on the back of a sigh.

The wind stopped, the trees stood still, the gun, the man, it all became a moment with no end and no beginning. In that infinitesimal slice of time a figure approached. Jon squinted against the sunlight breaking over their shoulders. Overalls, he wore overalls and had dark wavy hair.

“Danny.”

God, how Jon missed him. Was Danny here to take him away? His brother stepped over him and Jon turned his head to follow his movement. A molten streak cut a line down the side of his temple. The tip of his ear burned and his hair became wet.

Danny knelt. In that same moment sound exploded.

Some where in the distance, gravel crunched on the road and car doors slammed. The cloud of dirt was so large it colored the sunlight.

Hay clung to a lock of Danny’s hair.

A shot gun fired and splinters covered in black sap stuck to Jon’s clothes. Lenny ran.

The rich scent of earth and sun clung to Danny’s skin.

George’s voice boomed across the pasture. “Put the gun down, boy.” A herd of foot steps pounded the earth. “Nothing would make me happier than putting a window through your skull.” Different voices joined in. But they were so far away and Danny was so very close.

He brushed his fingers down Jon’s cheek. His brother’s smile was gentle.

“Why?” Jon said. Why did you kill yourself? Why did you leave me? Why did I survive when no one else did? Why am I here now, about to die, when I finally found peace?

Danny nodded as if he heard every unspoken question. “One day, you’ll understand.”

The drive from the diner to George’s place was a blur.

Ellis never even got the name of the man who gave Rudy and him a lift. He couldn’t even be sure he said thank you.

Then George arrived back home and Ellis’s trip to hell began.

White walls, gray tile, the stench of antiseptic mixed with ozone, it came together to create a far more frightening scene than being consumed by fire. His father died in this hospital, his mother never made it to the emergency doors alive.

George glanced at Ellis with a worried expression. It seemed like everyone wore the same face. It said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ The kind of useless sympathy passed on to victims in an irreparable situation.

George stopped in front of a glass wall and sliding door. Inside, a curtain had been drawn for privacy but it didn’t quite reach the end of the bed. Jon’s foot peeked out from under the blanket. Ellis knew every toe, every scar, and every hair on it.

Rudy petted Ellis’s back. He’d been so quiet that Ellis had forgotten he was there. His touch, like the doctor’s voice, was nothing more than a distant hum left behind as his reality condensed to what tiny bit of Jon he could see.

Someone gripped Ellis’s shoulder and pulled him around. Sound slapped him in the face.

“Ellis, this is Dr. Thompson.” George said. “He’s taking care of Jon.”

He was young and Ellis didn’t recognize him. Gilford had grown a lot in the past few years. People came and people went.

The doctor extended his hand. Ellis took it, but seemed to have forgotten how to shake. “It looks worse than it is, Mr. Harper.” Dr. Thomson said. “We’re going to move him downstairs in a couple of hours. We just had to make sure that no fragments penetrated his skull where the bullet grazed it.”

The doctor went on about bruised ribs, a broken arm, and possible knee surgery. The bullet Jon took to the leg passed clean through, missing the arteries.

“Would you like to go in?”

Ellis wondered if he did. Not because he didn’t want to see Jon, he just didn’t want to see him like this.

“Ellis?” George said. “Do you want to go see Jon or not?”

“Yes. I think…” He tucked his hands under his armpits to keep them from shaking.

“I promise you, Mr. Harper,” Dr. Thompson said. “Mr. Foster is going to be all right.”

Ellis nodded and kept nodding. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“This way.” Dr. Thompson held a hand out toward the room.

Rudy huddled close to Ellis as the doctor led them through the automatic doors. They closed with a hush. Beeps and hums filled the silence.

Those same sounds haunted Ellis’s nightmares. The ones where he was a twelve year old boy, watching his father take his last breath, wondering who was going to bake a cake for Rudy’s birthday and who was going to drive him to school. Sometimes Ellis took the bus, but it was a mile from the house to the bus stop and Mom didn’t like him walking in the rain.

The doctors had promised him everything would be all right. Even then, Ellis knew they didn’t mean his father would live, but that there would be someone else to take care of things. But no one could take care of Rudy. They’d put him away and their mother’s heart would be broken.

Ellis could not let that happen.

Now he faced losing everything all over again.

He pulled away from Rudy and pushed the doctor out of his way.

Ellis tore back the curtain.

He froze.

Miles of bandages covered Jon’s head and plastic lines supplied fluid in his right arm. His left was sealed inside a cast. He wasn’t wearing a gown and the bruises were almost black against his natural tan. Was there any part of his beautiful body Lenny hadn’t punched?

Ellis stumbled the last few steps to the bed. The railing was bitter against his palms.

Every time Jon exhaled it fogged the oxygen line under his nose.

Ellis wanted to touch him. He needed to touch him. But he was terrified that if he did, Jon would shatter.

Then he opened his eyes and smiled.

A sob escaped Ellis and his knees buckled. He clung to the bed rail to keep from falling.

Rudy patted Ellis’s back. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. See, Jon didn’t leave. He said he wouldn’t and he didn’t. I was going to give him my baseball cards, but he wouldn’t take them.”

“Hey,” Jon said.

Ellis scrubbed the tears out of his eyes, but they kept coming. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“I didn’t,” Jon coughed. “Mean to do it this time.”

“See, his arm is broke.” Rudy pointed. “I said it was broke.”

Ellis put his finger to his lips. “Not now.”

“But it’s broken.” To Jon he said, “Did it hurt?”

Jon chuckled then winced. “Yeah, buddy. It hurt like a son of a…biscuit.”

“I like biscuits. But they aren’t as good as ice cream.”

George walked over. “How about I take Rudy down to the cafeteria for some of that ice cream he’s so fond of?”

Relief and guilt warred in Ellis’s heart. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t. But I want to.”

“Can I?” Rudy said.

“Sure. Just behave and listen to George.”

They turned to leave and Rudy called out, “Rule number three, no touching.”

“I’m going to go look in on another patient.” Dr. Thompson patted Ellis on the shoulder. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

Then the room was empty except for Ellis and Jon. Being alone never felt so frightening.

“I’m okay.” Jon coughed.

How could he be with all the bandages, the bruises, the pinched look of pain on his face? Ellis reached out then stopped.

“Please, touch me. Anywhere, I don’t care. I need to feel you.”

The broken arm was closest. Ellis gripped Jon’s fingers.

Jon sighed. “I thought I’d never get to do that again.”

Ellis shook his head. Tears dripped from his chin to the blanket on the bed.

“Are you going to say anything or am I stuck doing all the talking?” His voice cracked and he licked his lips. “Sure wish they’d give me something to drink.”

“I’ll go find you something.”

Jon squeezed his hand. “Stay. I can go without the water for now.” But his eyes said he couldn’t go without him.

Ellis touched the small patch of Jon’s cheek that wasn’t covered. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“They went light on the painkillers until they x-rayed my head.” Jon clenched his eyes shut for a moment.

“I think you need to tell them to give you more.”

“Nah. If they give me more, I won’t get to see you.”

Ellis leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Jon’s skin was damp with sweat. “You’re hurting.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re in ICU.”

“It was a ‘just in case thing.’ Head wounds bleed a lot and I’ve got a groove in my skull. Never seen doctors get so excited over a couple of bone chips and bruises. I wish they’d been as concerned with my knee. That’s what hurts like a mother fucker.”

“Let me go get a nurse.”

“Not yet. It doesn’t hurt enough to not be with you.” Jon’s gaze ran over Ellis’s face. His expression was so intense, Ellis dropped his eyes.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

Jon squeezed his hand again. “Better me than you.”

“How can you say that?”

“Rudy needs you.”

“But don’t you get it, this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Listen, that SOB was going to hurt someone and bad. I don’t think he really cared who. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been you or Rudy. I’m glad it was me.”

“Why?”

The warmth in Jon’s eyes gripped Ellis’s soul. “I told you. When you’re in love with someone you’d do anything for them.”

Bryce Hayes thought when he left the military and joined the Seattle Police Department, there would be nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d seen it all; the worst of what mankind could do to each other.

But the Seven Deadly Sins had yet to rear their ugly head. Bryce was about to encounter them all embodied in one man; Field Training Officer Kohl Abbott’s inconceivable corruption. As a thirty-nine year old ‘rookie’ paired with the senior officer from hell, Bryce had no idea when he was told to ‘stay put’ in the patrol car, that his training instructor Abbott was breaking fingers and kneecaps for protection money from the small local businesses.

While in the Special Forces, Bryce was taught to shut up, to not reveal information. But this time when the net came down on the corruption he was caught in the snare. Bryce was tossed out of the department with the garbage, but was not prosecuted. He never knew why.

Twenty-eight year old Joel Vandergrift lived on Capitol Hill in Seattle, worked as a photographer and taught literature classes at night. But his real love was writing. Having his first few novels hit the bestseller lists, Joel was gaining recognition and finally thought earning a living as a writer was a possibility… until his apartment is broken into, and his computer with all his work on it, is stolen.

A day later, Joel sees his latest bestseller being sold, but under someone else’s name.

The irony of just having met a bartender named Bryce Hayes, whose behavior was suspicious to Joel, made Joel believe Bryce had a hand in the treachery.

But Bryce knew the reality.

What at first had been an ultimatum for Bryce from Abbott to find something nasty to discredit Joel as a top writer, had changed. Secrets, lies, and disastrous decisions that were impossible to take back, push Joel and Bryce together. And it isn’t until one of the men finally has had enough that fate takes over.