Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kris
One moment everything was fine, as fine as his fucked up new life got, anyway. The next, there were the loud pops of gunfire, Ishmael shouting for him to get down, people screaming, and men swinging what his panicked gaze made out to be large black sticks. He dropped into a crouch, wondering why Bob wasn’t getting out of the car to help them get away. A glance upwards showed him why.
“Bob!” he screamed. Then a strange man was yanking him by the arm, tossing him into a fireman’s carry. For a split instant, he thought more of Ishmael’s men had shown up. That he was being taken to safety, Ishmael not far behind. He hung limply to not hinder his saviour. His hope was dashed when he found himself stuffed into the boot of a ratty, blue Ford Fiesta. “Oh fuck!” he whispered to himself. Whoever had him now must have wanted him badly as they’d brought guns. “No guns in England, my ass,” he muttered. These guys seemed to have no trouble finding firearms or ammunition and had been ballsy enough to bring them into a highly populated area rife with CCTV.
He sobbed. Poor Bob. He’d been so nice, watching shows with him, telling jokes, and teaching him to make that snack mix. Sue, he had a job as a bodyguard and hired general security for Ishmael, and that no doubt led him to do some pretty sketchy things, but damn it, he was a nice guy deep down. He’d proven it, even trying to help Kris out by giving him some advice on living with his new role. He hadn’t deserved to die like that.
Kris balled his hands into fists. “Wait until Ishmael comes for you, ass wipes,” he spat. If his punishments were anything to go by, Ishmael would not be gentle and forgiving. And unlike with Kris, he wouldn’t toe the line. No, Ishmael would let his inner demons come out to play, Kris just knew it. Satisfaction gave him courage. “I just need to hang on, give him time to find me. Then they’ll be sorry.”
The car stopped and the trunk popped open. His eyes widened as he saw the figure looming over him. That was it? It was over already? He craned his neck, looking for Ishmael. The fist connecting to the side of his head caught him by surprise.
What?
Darkness claimed him.
****
Kris woke with a throbbing headache. The bed beneath him was hard. He blinked, but the fuzzy vision didn’t go away.
“Aw, shit. How much wine did we have for dinner?” he groaned, sitting up and resting his head in his hands. His stomach rebelled. “Oh God, I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered before putting. A hand in front of his mouth. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, jerking when his calves and ankles connected with concrete. He looked down, making a valiant effort to make his eyes co-operate. He wasn’t in a bed. He was on the floor someplace, and the ‘bed’ was a pile of blankets. His stomach lurched again and he fell onto all fours, gagging. He made an effort to scrabble away as far as possible from the blankets. Something told him he would want to use those again later.
Bile and partially digested food gushed out. He gagged at the sour taste it left behind.
“Fucking hell! That’s nasty!”
Kris peered towards the sound of the familiar voice. His memory rushed back. “Yeah, if you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t punch people in the head!”
A second shadowy form stood next to the man he spoke to. The figure let out a loud sigh. “He probably has a concussion. You should have used another method.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to source anything. He changed his plans at the last minute! I barely had time to come up with a workable change to the plan.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re going to go with? All you did was look for Bob’s phone and relay it to Marcus’s men.”
“Yeah, well, I had to let them know the timeline had moved up.”
Kris had heard enough. “Why? He trusted you!”
“Yeah, he did. And he was a good boss, he really was. But I got a better offer. An offer which included still getting you,” came the reply.
“You might be able to do things to me, but I’ll never be yours,” Kris spat.
“I thought you said he was docile,” the other man said.
“He is. His rebellions are all just talk. Ishmael didn’t call him his pet for nothing. He just needs a bit more obedience training.”
The other man laughed. “I think he more like a kitty. Sweet to hold but likely to also bite, scratch, and hiss.” The man waved his hand. “I’ll send someone to mop that up. In the meanwhile, you best go play your part back at Lux. I’m sure all hell has broken loose. As for me, I have shopping to do.” The man’s voice sounded happy. “Such a cute kitty. Ah, don’t worry my sweet,” he said to Kris. “I am not into men, though I very much like cats.”
Kris tried to figure out what the man meant by that. It sounded like.a portent, but with his inability to focus and the pounding of his head, he couldn’t latch onto his skittering thoughts to figure out what it meant. One thing stood out though, and he spat it at the back of the first man as he turned to leave. “You’re a dead man walking, Crichton!”
The second man laughed as Crichton left. “I’d go easy on him if I were you. I promised to let him teach you to suck men off, I don’t want you scratching me with your teeth.”
Kris’ lips twisted. “I thought you weren’t into men.”
“Ah, well, a mouth is a mouth, isn’t it? Especially if one isn’t looking at the one giving.” The man sighed theatrically. “And then, of course, there is the fact that it was part of his price. Seems Ishmael had already promised him that very thing and he very much wanted to watch you choke on his cock.”
Betrayal slammed into Kris. “No…”
“Ah, yes,” came the reply. Then the man turned and left.
