Lawrence
Lawrence wasn’tsure how long he’d been in that room. Two days, maybe? The men had dragged a mattress in for him to sleep on, and every now and then, Lawrence heard them screaming threats at his father through the wall. After endless, torturous hours, though, something finally changed.
The door flew open, smacking against the wall. Lawrence thought it was time for them to drag him to the bathroom again, but when both of the guards hurried in and grabbed him by the arms, he knew something was different.
“What’s going on?”
“The game’s over. Your old man didn’t cave, and our boss hit the road about an hour ago.”
Lawrence gasped as they pulled him down the gray, empty hallway. “You’re letting me go?”
The larger man snickered. “Sorry, kid. The boss has a reputation. What would it look like, if he didn’t follow up on his threats?”
Lawrence’s blood chilled. He tried to struggle, but the men held him tightly by his biceps and jerked him painfully as they dragged him through another door. They stepped into what looked like the interior of a large storage facility or a small warehouse, and when Lawrence jerked his head over his shoulder to look back, he saw the big, boxy room they were dragging him away from, sitting in the middle of the concrete floor.
They tossed Lawrence to the ground. The smaller guard stared at him intensely, but the bigger man turned immediately away. “I’m getting my cigarettes and whiskey from the truck,” he called over his shoulder. “Boss is supposed to call with the last go-ahead in twenty. I’ll be back once I hear from him.” When he hit the door at the end of the building, sunlight flashed inside.
Lawrence turned to the remaining guard. His beard was thick, and his eyes narrowed, making it hard to read his expression. He opened his vest, then pulled out a handgun, which he held loosely while he continued burning his eyes into Lawrence.
Still on his knees and scared to stand, Lawrence swallowed. Raiden and Cash hadn’t heard his heart calling out, but what would they do, if they were trapped like Lawrence? He thought about the self-defense lessons Raiden had taught him and the sly way Cash would talk other people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do.
Lawrence remembered the way the absent guard had made fun of his captor, joking that he had a crush on Lawrence. Knowing they only had a few minutes to act, he acted fast. He rose shakily to his feet, thought of the guys to gather all the strength he had, and batted his eyes. “Are you really going to shoot me?”
The man finally looked away from Lawrence for a second. He adjusted his grip on the gun, then snarled, “Don’t try anything cute.”
Lawrence folded his hands behind his back. They were all so intent on calling him a slut and judging him. Maybe he could weaponize their ignorance and use it against them? “If I’m going to die, can I at least have a request first?”
“We don’t give out Snickers bars or last meals, kid. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Can I blow you?” Lawrence said quickly. He sucked his lip in and tried to ignore how dry his mouth suddenly felt. “I’ll be really quick and good, and I’ll finish before you friend gets back.”
The man laughed but not with any kindness. He grabbed his crotch and adjusted himself, leering at Lawrence. “You faeries only think about one thing, don’t you?”
“Is that a yes?” Lawrence asked sweetly. He did his best to play into every one of the guard’s ignorant assumptions about him, knowing that he’d have to seem weak and pathetic if he were going to pull the thing off.
The man laughed again, then stepped forward, rubbing his hard cock. He glanced at the door, then flicked his fly open. “Just don’t make any noise, slut,” he growled.
The man kept the gun in his hand, and Lawrence watched it from the corner of his eyes as he stepped forward, then fell to his knees. He waited until the man shoved his hand down his boxers, so terrified and disgusted he felt like he was going to puke. But he had to try something, anything, and at the last possible minute, Lawrence jerked his arm back, then dropped a hard blow across the man’s knee, pounding down and sideways just like Raiden had taught him.
The man howled with pain as his knee collapsed, and Lawrence spun as fast as he could, landing a blow to his ankle at the opposite angle. When the guard collapsed backward, Lawrence took the opportunity to wrench the gun out of his hand, then sprint toward the door. The steel was cold in his clammy hand, and he couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in his ears and the distant howl of pain. Terrified, he yanked the door open, stumbling into the light, then tripped over something hard.
The gun went flying and skidded across grass, and Lawrence scrambled, only to look up and see the other guard, leering down and pointing a handgun straight in his face. “You little shit,” he grumbled. They were on some cleared land, surrounded by old maple and hemlock trees, with nothing else around but a truck, parked by the dirt road that dead-ended in the clearing.
Lawrence glanced at the gun he’d dropped, but it was too far. Even with everything his kidnappers had claimed about his guys, still, all he wanted was to see Cash and Raiden and to be held in their arms one last time. “You’re a monster,” he spat out. “And you work for assholes.”
The man laughed, then cocked his gun. “Any last words? We could make it real slow and real painful, if that’s what you want.”
Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to think of something happy, something to bring with him through whatever happened next. The first night he’d slept over at Cash’s house came back to him, when it felt like the world was opening up and anything was possible with the two guys. He tried to remember the way the light came through the windows in the morning and cast shadows across their sleeping bodies.
A soft whooshing noise passed by his ear, making Lawrence yelp and wince, and a second later, the man gasped. Lawrence opened his eyes, and the man was stumbling to the side, one hand on his neck and a delirious look in his eyes.
“Oh, oh…” he growled, then collapsed to the ground like a bag of flour.
Lawrence gasped. He looked around, but the day was silent. Panicked and confused, he scrambled for the gun, then took off in a dead sprint for the trees.
“Lawrence, wait!”
Raiden and Cash emerged from the woods, each running toward him. Lawrence was shocked, but he didn’t slow down. He just kept running, gasping ragged breath, until the men caught him and held his weight. “It’s you,” he cried. “It’s really you.”
