Whistle Pass (20 page)

T
ING
ting ting ting ting.

Gabe slapped the button on the alarm clock. Using his hands as pillows, he stared at the ceiling. He hadn’t slept, not a wink, but that hadn’t been his intention. He’d taken refuge in his room in the frivolous hope the planet might implode and he wouldn’t have to go to the park.

In the bathroom he whipped the round brush’s bristles over the slab of hardened cream in the shaving mug while the sink filled with hot water. The rising heat and soapy scent of the lather didn’t aid in settling his nerves. The man in the mirror looked as scared as Gabe. Dull pulses of pain twitched in his cheek. He idly watched the tiny uncontrollable jerks of skin. His heart beat out a flamenco rhythm no dancer could keep pace with. He picked up the safety razor and put it to his throat. The silver razor jiggled in his hand.

“Great,” he sarcastically muttered. Though the possibility of cutting
a jugular carried with it a fraction of a second’s peace through suicide, his own death wouldn’t resolve the problem. Perkins would still go after Charlie, with or without Gabe.

He opened his mouth and blew a breath against the glass. A mask of fog obscured the face. A death shroud?

As he set the razor down, it clinked on the porcelain sink. He pulled the chain attached to the rubber stopper to drain the water. Better to arrive without blood-encrusted nicks dotting his features. Betrayal deserved to be done while at one’s best.

Betrayal
.

He jammed his hand into the water and stabbed the stopper back in the drain. The gurgle of escaping water stopped.

Gabe grabbed a towel to wipe the mirror clean. With each stroke the reflection and Gabe’s purpose became clearer.

Perkins would go after Charlie with or without Gabe.

He placed his hands on the sink and leaned toward the mirror, staring at the gray eyes staring at him.

Perkins would go after Charlie with or without Gabe.

Betty had understood that. It had to be why she didn’t offer any alternatives to going to the park. He’d told Betty he loved Charlie. The reflection smiled in agreement with the epiphany.

Betty was involved because she loved Gabriel. She wasn’t about to leave him alone in this situation and would do whatever she had to in order to keep him safe. Tonight wasn’t about betrayal. Tonight was about protecting the man he loved.

Police Chief Howard Perkins had screwed up.

Gabe brushed heavy cream over his jaw and chin. He picked up the razor and studied it in his hand. Not a quake or quiver. Gabriel Kasper would be at his man’s side for whatever happened tonight. And he’d look damn good doing it.

He glared at the reflection and scraped the razor down his cheek.

G
ABE
carefully seated the fedora on his head to protect his groomed hair and inhaled the night. Exhaust, street oil, a collage of foods from the restaurant, and the fish-laden potpourri of the river served as the flint to ignite a reminder that Whistle Pass had been his life’s safety net to this point.

He buttoned his wool coat and lifted his chin in determination. Existing in a cocoon of safety was… safe, but existing wasn’t living. His combat-booted feet smacked the concrete as he strode across the street toward the park.

He’d properly attired himself for the unknown. Fedora and dress coat disguised his T-shirt and jeans with rolled cuffs. An outward appearance of propriety blanketed his preparedness for whatever might happen.

His stride carried him alongside the brick wall of Lilly Grant’s Bakery and the attached iron fire escape to the pair of railroad tracks. He doggedly walked over the crossing and entered the park. A thick, rolling gauze edged toward the riverbank. A smattering of stars blinked under a sliver of moon. The water’s current gently rocked an uncovered rowboat tied with a slack rope to a pier. Subtle pats of slow waves on rocks trickled a tempo for Gabe’s footfalls.

Under a lighted lamppost Charlie sat on a bench, legs extended. A small cloud of smoke formed at his mouth and climbed upward. His hand remained at his face. The collar of the pea coat stood straight around his neck. Red embers glowed and painted the man an eerie shade of devil. A flick of his fingers sent the embers somersaulting to the water. He turned toward Gabe. Another cloud of smoke rose out of him.

Acid dripped from tense nerves and sloshed and seared Gabe’s stomach, but his gait and resolve didn’t lessen.

Charlie pulled in his legs and sat up straight. His hands went in his coat pockets. Yellow light from the lamppost illuminated the man’s hair.

Gabe stopped at the end of the bench. Bile shot up his throat. He gulped it down. His muscles shivered. Charlie’s chocolate eyes were laced with anger and… sadness?

He knows
. Gabe’s brain swirled in uncertainty at how to react or feel about this obvious fact.

Charlie tipped his head. “Sit down.” His voice, steady, offered no emotion to gauge his true feelings by.

Gabe sat next to the armrest, placing as much distance between them as possible. He intertwined his fingers and rested his hands in his lap. He avoided Charlie’s gaze by looking at the lines on the man’s forehead and the dangling strand of hair dividing the plows in half.

“How’s it supposed to happen?”

“Perkins wants me to kiss you.” Gabe’s gaze dropped to the hands in his lap. He tapped his index fingertips together. The verbal admission
of the betrayal sandpapered his throat raw, cracked his voice. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen after that.”

He looked into Charlie’s eyes and rushed the next words, needing to hear the encouragement as much as offer it. “But it will be all right, Charlie. I swear. It’s going to work out.”

Charlie blew a smokeless breath between tightened lips. “Yeah? And how do you know that?”

Gabe sighed at how ridiculous the answer would undoubtedly sound to Charlie. But the truth and his reliance on a woman who would sacrifice all for him were all he had to offer. He looked at the stone face.

“Betty’s taking care of it.”

Charlie’s body bounced in a scornful laugh. “The old lady from the hotel?”

The sneering tone rolled Gabe’s hands into fists. The left side of his face wrenched, the nostril flared, and anger roiled through him. He nearly screamed his resentment. “Don’t talk about Betty like that. You don’t know her, Charlie. Betty loved me and took care of me when nobody else gave a shit. Do you have any idea what it’s like having someone in your life that you know would risk everything for you?
Do you
, Charlie?”

Charlie was on him before Gabe saw so much as a twitch. Hands squeezed Gabe’s face; warm, moist lips covered Gabe’s. Charlie’s tongue darted between Gabe’s lips, traced the tops of his lower teeth, then the upper. The mouth pressed even tighter on his.

Startled, Gabe snorted in air through his nose. Electricity zipped straight from his mouth to his groin. The muscles in his ass convulsed and rolled into balls. His ears flamed to a temperature rivaled only by the intense desire writhing throughout his body.

The powerful hands sandwiching his face pushed his head back an inch or two. Charlie’s glistening eyes drilled into his.

“Yeah, I do.” His whispered words barely escaped the hot, tobacco-
scented breath stroking Gabe’s face. “It’s why you’re here.”

He understands!
Gabe’s hands found the back of Charlie’s head. He wrapped locks of thick hair around his fingers and pulled Charlie to him. Gabe’s lips captured Charlie’s, his tongue thrust inside Charlie’s luscious mouth and flicked the tip of his heated tongue.

“Get ’em! Get the queers, boys!”

Shouts and a buffalo herd of footsteps shattered the silence, but not the moment. Charlie pushed away slightly and smiled.

“I’m not too sure I’m not in love with you.”

The thunder of his heartbeats filled Gabe’s ears. “You… you’re in love with—”

A volcanic eruption of pain consumed Gabe’s head—a tide of black devoured him whole.

Chapter 20

C
HARLIE
squeezed his eyes tight to ward off the pain. It didn’t work. Whatever they’d hit him with left a line of hurt from the crown of his head to his little toes. He turned his head left and brushed against… canvas? He turned his head right. Same coarse material. Breaths of air came hot and hard, difficult to draw. Beads of sweat rolled down his face into his ear. Pitch darkness welcomed the opening of his eyes.

Shit
. A hood covered his head. He drew in a deep breath. Air filled with the stench of his salty sweat fought its way through the canvas that sucked against his nose when he inhaled and floated away when he exhaled. Vibration rattled its way inside him. Movement. Wherever, whatever, he was on or in was moving. But slowly, as if the driver was being cautious of the road. Cool air blanketed his body and served to intensify the heat within the hood. He was outside. He flexed his leg muscles, then his pelvic muscles, and finally his shoulders. His body was laid out straight. So, this had to be the back of a truck, not the cramped trunk of a car. Probably a pickup.

One arm was under the right side he was lying on. The other, over his ribs. With his shoulders, he pulled at his arms, tried to bring them around in front of him. They didn’t obey. The backs of his hands touched. He rolled and turned his wrists. A scratchy fiber bound them together. Rope. He tried to separate his ankles. Too much tension. Something bound them too. More rope, no doubt. An odd, unfamiliar point of pressure pushed against his right ankle and leg inside his boot. He focused on the pressure. The pistol. The morons hadn’t found the pistol. Only a total idiot wouldn’t notice the denim over his right boot was much tighter than the left. Unless they were drunk. If this was Captain Tom’s bunch of backyard bigots, boozed brains might have overlooked something else as well. Charlie just needed to find it.

He rolled onto his back and scratched at the steel floor. Ribbing. Definitely the bed of a pickup. They wouldn’t have left him alone in an open truck bed. There had to be a guard or two.

Charlie stretched, elongated his body as much as he could. The engine whined behind his head. Bumps and bounces of a wheel jiggled stronger to his right. So, his head was toward the cab and he was near a side of the truck, not in the center. These idiots couldn’t have put Gabe in the same truck. Could they? Once Charlie learned what it was they really wanted from him, Gabe’s life was the only ace these fools had to stop him from tearing them apart, piece by piece.

A brake ground on an axle beneath him. The truck slowed even more, nearly stopped. His weight sloshed left as the truck crept right. A front wheel inched off a slight drop, then the other wheel. The motor revved slightly, and the truck gained speed. Charlie tightened his muscles and braced for the impact.

Thu-thud
. The back wheels hit the ground.

Charlie’s body bounced; his head banged the floor.

“Ungh,” a voice groaned nearby at ear level.

Gabe?

“Jesus Christ! Will you watch it? Terry almost fell out.” The surly voice was familiar. And to Charlie’s right.

“Oh, thanks, Ted. I thought we weren’t supposed to use names?” That voice was to his left.

“Oh, shut your yap. What difference does it make? They can’t see us,” Ted snarled.

They.
Gabe is here
. Ted and Terry. Yeah. The familiar voice was Ted from the card game. Charlie slid his legs left. An extended, still leg stopped them. Gabe. The leg quivered, jerked, then pressed against Charlie.

“Charlie? Is that you?” The voice quavered and cracked. “It’s going to be all right. I swear it is.”

“Yeah, Gabe. It is.” Maybe Gabe could afford to place his faith in an old woman and wait for help, but Charlie didn’t operate that way. The slumbering beast within him opened an eye, stretched its limbs, and licked its chops. Time to attack the enemy.

A kick to his right knee. “No talking,” Ted growled.

Charlie slid his legs right; feet stopped his progression. Both feet pushed against him.

“You best not touch me, queer.”

Charlie inched his legs left, then swung them right, under the feet. Ted’s feet pressed down on Charlie’s lower thigh and upper calf.

“Get your—”

Charlie tensed, then shoved all his strength and will into his waist and legs and flipped them upward. Ted’s weight lifted, then was gone.

“Stop the goddamn truck!” Terry screamed. “Ted just fell out!”

Charlie rolled back on his shoulders and slid his tied hands under his butt. He drew in his knees and slipped his hands under his feet, then over his boots to his right ankle. In one swift motion, he pulled up his pants leg and grabbed the pistol. He spun on his ass and fired toward the voice.

“Aiyee!”

The truck skidded to a smooth stop.
Not gravel. Dirt and grass
.

Panicked voices shouted unintelligible words. Other vehicles slid to a halt. Doors snapped open. Charlie yanked off the hood and fired a wild shot in the direction of the truck’s cab and then to the rear.