“Baby,” I choke, reaching to wipe the tears off him…only to hit the damn duct tape. “Oh God… what did they do to you?”
I reach to rip it off, to free him, to do something, anything.
Foster grabs my wrist with enough force to jerk me back.
“Don’t,” he says sharply. “You’ll tear his skin clean off. That’s not simply a piece of tape…that’s half a damn roll fused to him. We need chemicals to dissolve it.”
I freeze.
Then nod, barely.
My hands fall to Eli’s cheeks…what little I can touch.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I whisper, voice shaking in a way I’ve never heard from myself. “I’m so fucking sorry it took us so long to get to you.”
Tank crouches next to us, running hands over the chains.
“Check for a key,” he says, voice low and furious. “We’re getting this shit off him now.”
Spike steps back, eyes landing on Knuckles’ still form.
“Bones,” he calls into his radio, voice thick. “I need a second van down here. Knuckles is dead… and we’re taking him home.”
Fresh tears fall from Eli’s eyes at Spike’s words.
“We’re getting him out of here, too, baby,” I murmur, leaning in close enough to kiss a tear right off his cheek. His skin is cold. Too cold. “Listen to me, sweetheart…I need you to try to stop crying, alright? It’s making your nose run, and with your mouth taped like that, you’ll start having trouble breathing. Can you do that for me?”
Eli squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to hold the entire world together with sheer force of will…But still, more tears slide out.
Fuck. It kills me. It absolutely kills me.
“Got it,” Foster says from behind the chair. “Here…Tank, hold this side.”
Metal scrapes. Chains clink together.
The steel loosens.
Eli’s body slumps forward just a bit, but his head is still taped to the damn chair.
“Hold him, brother,” Foster says. “I’m cutting the tape back here.”
“I got you,” I whisper fiercely, slipping an arm around him. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. Ready.”
Seconds later, Eli falls fully into my arms.
Tank moves in to support the chains as they fall away, keeping them from slamming against Eli’s body.
“There we go,” Tank murmurs gently, like he’s trying not to scare a wounded animal. “Easy, brother. We’ve got you. I’m going to take this gun, Eli. Move your finger, honey, so you don’t accidentally shoot me.”
Eli’s fingers twitch as Tank removes the gun and hands it to Spike. Then he removes the rest of the chain from around Eli’s arms and legs.
“Careful,” Foster warns. “He’s bleeding down the neck. Knuckles was applying pressure, looks like.”
The gun. Pressure on his wound. My stomach twists.
Even dead… Knuckles was protecting my man.
“Alright,” Foster says, voice steady but urgent. “Skip, I need to see his neck, brother.”
