Antidote (Don't) (33 page)

I should have jolted when Doc was slammed face-first into the door, stopping me from entering, but it was scary how little feeling came, especially hearing Doc’s pleas to be set free, how he’d got a family, wife, kids.... Gray seemed just as dispassionate as he threw me a hard glance. It took me a while to realise it was for thinking of opening a door without it being cleared. Grabbing the doctor by the collar, using him as a shield, Gray gave me the nod to stand out of the way. He pulled the door open, pushed Doc in front of him, to which Doc instantly gave a yelp, covered his face, and cried a warning of “Vince, it’s me.”

The bastard was in here.

But hearing no scuffles as Gray went in, I followed a few seconds later. A look around the dingy backroom told me Vince wasn’t there, but with how still Gray stood, somebody else was.

Arms bound out wide on the bed, black blindfold on, sheet down to a very bruised waist, Jack lay naked on the mattress, not moving, but his chest—his fucking chest.

“Move....” Pushing past Gray, I clambered on the bed and tugged the ties from Jack’s wrists. Blood dampened the sheet between Jack’s legs, and I ignored the stains as I pulled him onto my lap, taking care to remove his blindfold. There was an oxygen tank and mask close by, some tubes to suggest Jack had been given fluids, antibiotics. He was bleeding, bruised, battered... but breathing; he was still fucking breathing.

“Got you, Jack.” I hugged him close. “Fucking got you now, baby.” Head, face, cheek, I kissed it all, then brushed away the hair from his eyes, hating how limp his body was, how cold and clammy he felt as I rocked him there on the bed—how blood stained around his nose. But, breathing—I could see a soft rise and fall of his chest, even though it ended in this long drawn-out rattle—he was still fucking breathing.

A huff, Doc was pushed down by the bed, knocking us slightly as Gray’s brief aim of firearm was enough to make sure Doc stayed exactly where he’d been dropped. Gun lowered, kept held in both hands, Gray glanced down at me. At Jack. His business face never fell, I was ready to call enough, running away with what I had and not looking back. But Gray....

Now over by what must be the bathroom, Gray opened the door—and instantly swept back, out of the path of a bloodied baseball bat that Vince swung at him. As it crashed into the door, Gray took aim and shot Vince in the shoulder at point-blank range. A sharp kick at the back of his knees helped Vince slump down, and in the next moment, Gray had given six or seven bone-cracking kicks to the man’s ribs, then two to his head that left Vince moaning on the floor as he curled into the door for cover.

Easing off, Gray aimed his gun at Vince’s head.

“You won’t kill me,” Vince let rush from his mouth, trying to hide as he offered a faltering and very blood-filled smile. “I know... know what you need.” He tried a laugh, some attempt at a brave front, but as Vince got my full attention now, it slipped. “Deal. I’ll do a deal... I’ll give you a name, you give me a cell with as much access to... to,” that brave tint in his eyes flickered back into life for a moment, escaping his agony, “access to pretty boys like your slut over there—we’re both happy.”

Vince groaned, obviously not liking the half-smile that Gray gave then. He shifted his knee up, curling in on himself, as if expecting another broken rib. “I’ll do the rehab classes, make you look good.” Again the need to try and keep some of the control filtered in the look he gave over to us. “Ask me nice, I might even let what I’ve done to your slag over there carry me through the lonely nights.” Another nervous laugh, looking more pained by the minute. “Christ knows he’ll be remembering me for a few thousand nights to come.” Gray leaned close and Vince sobered up a touch.

“Such a sweet, sexy kid beneath all that roughness.” A pause, Vince looked up at Gray. “But you know that, don’t you, tough guy? It’s why you keep him close.” Vince started to shiver under Gray’s scrutiny. “Mine now, though, sez so on his skin. Mine in every possible w—”

A thud, Vince hit the floor. Hard. Then everything was quiet but for Jack’s rattled breathing.

Laying Jack gently down on the bed, I managed to ease of the bed and go over to Gray. He was cuffing Vince’s hands behind his back now while Vince was out of it. A look up at me, Gray got to his feet, then dragged Vince back into the bathroom, maybe to cuff him to some pipes.

“Information, Jan,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “You have all you need over there. You don’t watch me now.”

I heard him say it, heard his footsteps as they headed for the door, then Gray grabbed Doc and took him to search for whatever tools Gray no doubt needed.

Vince started to stir, just the soft shuffle of shoe on bathroom tile.

“Hmph. He really bloody hated my come on him, remember?” Vince choked out, and I could picture him smirking, hidden away in the bathroom. “Even with how fucking good he is to have... to have underneath you, he’s such a fucking head case with things like that, right?”

The red smear lines from Gray dragging Vince into the bathroom looked so vivid, so vicious.

“I mean,” Vince’s voice was slurred, like blood ran into his mouth and all that came out was that thick, slicked up sound, “how does a slag like that, whose probably been fucked more times than even I could get it up, how does he survive in life with those problems?” Quiet, almost as though he’d passed out, then—“Just buh-buh-begs for fucking it out of his system, if you ask me. Like you on Christmas night, eh?” A snort of laughter came. “You remember Christmas night, Jan? How real men get dirty?”

The baseball bat slept just a few inches from my feet.

“His ass is gonna be sore for a while, though,” chuckled Vince as I picked the bat up. “Woke up all hard ’n horny after you ran away and left him with me, but blushing and crying frustration with how he needed something extra. Have to give him what he wants to ease the need sometimes, right? So asked him real... real sweet to let me tie him up and play at rape again. Well.” Vince gave a blood-filled chuckle. “You should have been here for that last time, pansy boy. You missed one hell of a fuck session. Bitch really fucking cried when I raped his ass hard, then tried to fuck that bat up him in there to stop him wanting it rough ever again. An—”

I was there, in the bathroom, baseball bat in hand and hitting, just hitting. His jaw first, sending out a sickening crack I wanted to carry on hearing, then missing and catching the toilet. White bone and blood mixed on the end of the bat, and I swung it again, needing more blood and bone on the walls, dirtying the walls, showing how real men, they can get dirty now.

“
No, dammit
.” Someone swept in behind me, pulling me out of the bathroom, hands wrapping around mine with enough persuasion to stop hitting anything else. Behind, Vince gurgled something on the floor, the sound of blood bubbling from his mouth, and I wanted to make it bubble some more, drain every last ounce out of his fucking body, use it to wash the floor, roll around in it, let it cover me, get dirty, let real men get dirty and—

“You bring every ounce of normality to our table, Jan,” Gray whispered quietly. “That’s what holds Jack, and as jealous as I am that you can give him that, I can’t thank you enough for it. His head needs grounding in normality sometimes.”

“He raped him,” I said quietly.

Gray pulled his hold a little tighter. “I know.”

“So loving, Gray,” I mumbled. “Jack just wanted to hide, to stay close. Not tough, not so fucking tough.” I suddenly cried out. “
And Vince said he answered all of that tenderness by raping him with a fucking bat
.”

“Easy. Take into account that he could just be winding things up, Jan. You need to let it go. Focus on Jack.” Gray’s head rested against mine. “Please...” Quiet. “I need you to focus on Jack for me.”

The bat slipped from my hands, into Gray’s, and looking briefly back at him, I went over to the bed. Blood spotting the sheets around Jack’s thighs suggested more than just words and I choked down a sob.

Carr was there now too, checking Jack’s pulse as I clambered back by Jack, again pulling his head onto my lap, letting life play out around us as I kept sweeping the hair from his eyes. He stirred at one point, just briefly, and made things worse by mumbling “Dad” before the bliss of a drug-induced sleep pulled him back under.

“Yeah,” I whispered, “get you home, Jacky boy. Let you sleep. You need to—”

Vince’s chuckle hit the air and I glanced up to see Gray head into the bathroom. Gray hadn’t looked back at Jack since, not once. Maybe there was a reason for that, that he was okay so long as—
Please... I need you to focus on Jack for me.

“Oh, pansy boy there will get Jack back in body.” Vince was back to choking blood, his voice barely audible. Sounded like the bastard was hiding. I needed him to be hiding. “As for where his fucking head will be... right here. His pretty ass and head will always be right fucking here taking my cock.”

“You’ve been left a little in the lurch, haven’t you, Vince?”

I went to look back, but a finger under my chin from Carr and her shake of head, stopped me from looking.

“See, I noticed a few things. It’s why I haven’t bothered finding any toys to play with,” said Gray, and I had enough time to pick up how the baseball bat wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “There’s no cameras here,” Gray added quietly, and again another touch under my chin stopped me from looking around to check for cameras.

“Jack,” said Carr quietly, her gaze going to the bathroom. “You focus on Jack for him, okay, honey?”

“The Doc was a little too eager to open up the door and get some ketamine in here.” Gray again. “Has Jack been stirring a little lately, hmmm?”

“So fucking what?” snapped Vince.

“Where’s your audience gone? Hmmm? And you, are you too stupid to ask why?”

Everything went quiet in the bathroom.

“You’ve been on your own since you got here, right?” Vince answered that with a strangled cry. “They paid all of that money out to set this up, then cut and ran when it started falling apart?” Gray went quiet, then—“You really should have asked why, Vince. I’d have liked you a little more, then.”

I jerked, forcing my eyes shut hearing the sound of bone hit jaw. The need to look was there, to see if teeth slept with the blood on the floor, if the angle of Vince’s neck was twisted to an impossible angle as bones snapped, then the sound came again and—

“For them, you fuck,” said Gray, flatly.

Carr smiled at me, hinting with her eyes that paramedics were here. I stood, watching them call Jack’s name as lines were put in his veins, and blankets were wrapped over him. An oxygen mask came next; then Jack was being lifted onto a stretcher. Some other things were on the bedside unit: mine and Jack’s mobiles, and after picking them up, I slipped them in my pocket.

Carr was busy with Jack, and this time she wasn’t there to stop me looking back into the bathroom, at Gray, how he turned to look at me with the bloodied bat in his hands. I didn’t look away. I made damn sure I didn’t look away, now needing to see him—imprint everything about who he was and what he’d done to Vince in my mind. No secrets, no layers, just exactly who Gray was, what he’d done—what he’d
do
to the rest of these bastards.

And yeah, I liked how Vince looked there at his feet, hair matted with blood, skin missing on part of his skull. It was a good look. A damn good fucking look.

It had taken a lifetime to get back to the Master’s Circle. Part of me wanted to question why they hadn’t taken Jack to hospital, but then this was the MC, with all the best in private healthcare that life could offer. Perhaps it was the better choice.

The room we were taken to was full of bodies, but I couldn’t really see who, most faces just white blurs, voices just as obscure. Brennan was there with Mistress Carr, both quiet as they stood in the shadow of the doorway. I sat in a chair by Jack, stroking repeatedly through his hair. He felt hot to the touch, his body coated in a thin sheen of perspiration, something I hadn’t noticed earlier. He was on his side, facing me, a ruffled sheet offering him a little modesty around his groin as doctors busied themselves.

The startling whiteness of the observation room only made the reality of what had happened worse. In amongst the bruises, bites, and branding mark, the hell of the past two weeks was on full display. There was no dirt, Jack looked surprisingly clean, yet among more recent blood stains on his inner thighs, finger bruises and thumb imprints marked paths of indecency all over him, showing he’d been held down. Whip marks from what looked more like a cable covered one side of his body, more defensive marks on the back of his right hand where it appeared he’d curled to his side and tried to shield his head. Bruising on his face from his beating was never more colourful, but the mark around his throat was new. It looked like someone had controlled his breathing in a more frightening way.

I knew what happened whilst he’d been with me of a night, but what the hell had happened in the last few days? During those times he hadn’t been with me? He’d been ill. Vince wouldn’t have used the bat, not...

I closed my eyes, shut it away. I could see Gray for who he was; I couldn’t see Jack for what Henry and Vince had made him. What I’d made him Christmas night.

“Okay,” said a doctor who stood behind Jack. “We need to get him into surgery.”

This doctor barely looked out of med school, and he was feeling Jack’s stomach. He was
touching
Jack’s stomach.

“We have abdominal distension.” A look of concentration filled the doctor’s thin face as he carried on prodding. Then he shifted his touch around to between Jack’s legs and I tensed, wanting to hit him for touching Jack in such an intimate way. Images of the last man who’d touched him there surfaced and I clenched my fist.

“Okay,” said the doctor quietly. “I’m calling rectal trauma, possible penetrative injury above the levator ani.”

I didn’t know what the hell that meant, but that bat and Vince’s grin came sickeningly to mind as I eased out of my seat to allow the nurse access.