Pent Up (39 page)

Ruben wasn’t a murderer, but he could certainly play one for an hour. After all, Andy had hired him to play a thug. Looking like a villain had a couple advantages.

Walrus blanched. “Sh—”

“No.” The low word almost a grunt. Headshake and the screwdriver dug into the meat of the skinny man’s back. “Not a word. Don’t you say nothing.”

Walrus choked and nodded. He smelled like spearmint.

Out four, hold four, in four.
“No killing,” Ruben muttered into the hot air as he yanked the zip tie tight around the bony wrists.

Still no sound from the dark house. The pool glowed beyond.

Now that the plan was in motion, Ruben felt almost lightheaded with relief. He muttered, “I came to do some maintenance, dipshit. Sound good?”

Inhale, exhale. Walrus nodded but didn’t turn.

“Here’s my offer: no bullshit, I’m gone in ten. You get frisky, I’m gonna install a fucking doorbell over your spine so people know you’re a cunt.” He pressed, trying to break the skin. “Ding dong.”

The mouthful of crooked teeth opened in soundless pain until Ruben could eyeball the dodgy fillings on his back molars from the side. Walrus whisper-screamed, “Aggh!”

“See? If I don’t miss, you get life as a vegetable. I do miss, you’re dead meat.” Ruben’s grip on the screwdriver tightened and he drove the tip between the guy’s vertebrae. “Deal?”

Walrus closed his eyes. His lower lip quivered wetly. “Mmh.”

“Then nod.” Ruben squared his stance and did his impression of an immovable object.

“Uh, I’m—”

“Quiet. I think my buddy needs a ride.” Jab. Ruben twisted the screwdriver. “Huh? You think he needs a ride home?”

Walrus shook, and then the air went sharp with ammonia as he pissed himself. He nodded.

“All done, huh? I think we’re going to go collect him, because it’s past his bedtime. Move.” Another jab, and now blood sprang at the tip, a slow ooze. “Oops.”

Walrus stumbled forward on the dark patio toward the pool house.

Bingo.

So it
was
the pool house. Weird emotion churned inside him at the image of Andy in there, bound in the dark: relief and hope and panic.

Ruben growled, “Let’s hope that Tibbitt and your fat friend don’t get any dumber.”

The mustached face turned in surprise. His zip-tied hands had gone chalky purple with trapped blood.

“You’re…” Ruben advanced slowly, using the skinny body as a shield, “not exactly masterminds,
hombre
.”

Tibbitt was nowhere to be seen.

Ruben prodded. “We knew.”

No reaction.

“Andy’s stepfucker and his bullshit partners trying a new investment strategy. The feds might get the wrong idea about you boys and ring your new bell.” He shoved and Walrus stumbled forward. “Slowly.”

Walrus stopped at the door, swaying. Somewhere a few houses over, a dog barked.

Reaching around him, Ruben turned the knob slowly and silently.

Walrus didn’t move. A jab and he stumbled forward.

They moved into a small, dark sitting room. Loveseat and a chair. A coffee table piled with food boxes. A wide laptop on the counter was the only light source, and it cast violet light over the silent space.

This wasn’t right.

Ruben opened his mouth to call for Andy but thought better of it. “Show me.”

Walrus scuffed forward. His bound hands bumped Ruben’s leg.

Ruben’s grip was sweaty. “You fucking touch me again, jagoff, and I stick this in your fucking ear.” He meant it.

The laptop screen showed a muted sitcom family clowning for cameras. A half-eaten sandwich was beside it. He’d been watching TV.

Where did they have Andy? Surely this little bungalow didn’t have a basement or an attic.

Ruben’s eyes adjusted, and now he saw the room’s bare walls. Folding chairs, folding table. Everything last minute and temporary. No kinda plan.

Walrus had stopped at another small door. Maybe a closet or a bedroom? Did pool houses have beds?

Ruben reached for the handle, his internal klaxons blaring but time racing past. Every second wasted put Andy in more danger.

Walrus shifted sideways but stayed stone still under the point of the screwdriver. His face was slick with sweat in the bluish light.

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be hurt.

Ruben’s fingers closed on the metal knob, and his heart thundered as he turned and pushed, keeping the skinny goon in front to take fire.

The doorway was pitch black. Some kind of room. He spurred Walrus forward with the screwdriver. More blood now black in the half-light.

“Andy.” The name slipped out in a hoarse whisper before Ruben could stop it.

A step. Another. Walrus stiffened in front of him.

Then the crackle of a Taser. Blue flickering light scalded the inside of Ruben’s eyes, and lightning jolted his entire skeleton.

“Guh!” Ruben’s vision grayed, and he landed hard on one elbow unable to catch himself. His muscles jerked and boiled.

Beside him, Walrus rolled to his feet, his mouth bloody from a bitten tongue.

The light came on. Another crackle made Ruben seize and scream as Walrus kicked his head.

The room faded, but not before Ruben managed to turn and see the kind face smiling down.

WHEN RUBEN
heaved his eyelids open, his entire left side felt as if it had been crushed inside a sack. The bus station this morning had been ugly, but now his sternum throbbed, his mouth was crusty with dried blood, and he felt pretty confident that at least two of his fingers were broken.

In the dark, someone moved toward him. A fresh-bread kiss. The pain evaporated like spit on a griddle.

Andy.

“Ow.” Ruben smiled in relief, resplitting his lip against Andy’s and too happy to care. “Hey boss.”

“Oh man.” Andy looked not so bad, considering. His face was scuffed and scabby: black eye, dings, and dents. “Pretty ugly.”

“Nuh uh.” Another kiss. Why did that feel so good?

They were in some kind of basement space, too big to be under the pool house. A bare bulb on a chain and one dingy window high in the wall gave the only light in a room heaped with battered file boxes.

Andy leaned him into the light and gave him the once-over. “Well, we’re in the soup, huh? I guess you met my stepdad.” He wore clothes Ruben had never seen before: a faded sweatshirt and size-fifty khakis belted tight. They’d taken him naked.

That kind face. “The old guy.”

Andy shook his head and squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”

Ruben squirmed up so his back was propped against the wall. “For getting popped?”

“For saving me.”

“Great job I’m doing so far.”

Andy glanced at the door. “Better than you think,
cariño
. They’re shitting kittens now.”

“All I did was get a screwdriver dirty and dent his boot with my skull.”

“But you found me. They’re waiting for the cavalry. What kinda idiot would charge in without backup, right?”

“
No kidding
.” Ruben gave a dry, wheezing laugh. His ribs and face hurt where Walrus had kicked. “How long I been down here?” Someone had taped his broken fingers.

“Couple hours? I’m not even sure what day it is.”

“Saturday when I showed up.”

“Time flies when you’re trying to stay out of prison.” Andy’s dimple dug in.

Here it comes.

Ruben touched his face, which had been cleaned at some point.

“I tried to patch you up.” Andy’s eyes, soft and certain, glittered. “I can explain everything.”

Ruben snorted. “Then you’re a fucking genius,”

“I’m so sorry. Anyone else woulda left me to take my medicine.”

Stupid.
Ruben shrugged.
I’m a goner.
Before he started acting like a dumb drunk, he got serious.

“Andy, if I stay, you’re going out of business.”

“What?”

“What you’ve been doing is illegal. You’ve wrecked people, ruined lives. Maybe they deserved it, but you can’t just hand this over to Tibbitt and walk away. Even he knows that.”

Andy didn’t balk. “Are you going to turn me in?”

“No. Jesus.”

“Really.” He looked surprised. “Why?”

“Because I can’t let you get away that easily.”

Now the smile, conspiratorial as hell.

Ruben eyed him. “Look, I’m not letting anyone lock you up, but I’m not gonna put in time with a crazy person. I have enough trouble keeping myself sane.”

To his credit, Andy nodded.

“You’re gonna pay your stepfather and get out. Retire.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Ruben, he doesn’t want money. He wants—”

“Apex.”

Surprise on Andy’s face. “Yes. Yeah. Exactly. How did you know that?”

“I looked, man,” Ruben spoke gently. “You’re some bigshot and he’s trapped out here. He catches you hunting big game, and he wants in. Yes?”

Andy nodded, mouth tight, cheeks pink.

“You know he’s dangerous, and you stall him and shut him out. Things get ugly.”

“Worse.” Andy heaved a sigh. “Ruben, he’s my father.” Grimace. “Like, the actual donor of the actual sperm. Stepfucker.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s why he hates me so much. And why my mother played diplomat my whole life. Every time I defended my dad—”

Frown. “Andy, none of that matters. Huh? How can you use it?” Ruben spread his hands wide. “Think.”

“Well, he wants ownership. Legacy. All these years he’s been trying to claim me for himself. Ugh.” Andy grimaced. “That’s his blind spot. He wants me to act like his son, to put him in charge.”

“So do that. Right? What do you care? You can’t leave your whole life hanging and cross your fingers that no one notices.”

“My
father
, Ruben. She never said a word.”

“Then I’d say you’d better use that card while it counts.”

“And what? I pay him and give him Apex so my skeezy sperm donor can wreak havoc on anyone who ruffles his feathers?” Andy closed his mouth in a frown. “And then what?”

“You live.” Ruben frowned and took Andy’s hand. “I’m being serious, Bauer. Prudent and rational and all that shit you hate because I want you to not be dead or crippled. You broke it, we fix it.”

Andy rubbed his face roughly. “Give up working? Investing? What am I gonna do?”

Ruben snapped. “Well, first up you’re not going to end up in the fucking penitentiary getting gangbanged in the shower! Oh, and you won’t get abducted and beaten by sociopathic relatives! Jesus, Andy!”

Andy raised his hands and shook his head apologetically. “Sorry. You’re right. You’re solving my problem.”

“Trying to. If we can.” Ruben spoke with gentle firmness. “People think getting sober means sitting in a church basement and shame-bragging about all the crazy shit you did drunk.” Headshake. “Sober originally meant
serious
. Looking hard. Thinking about your choices and responsibilities. Standing up instead of lying there.”

Andy’s brow creased. “I cannot give that bastard what he wants.”

“No, but you can make him pay for the privilege.” Ruben sighed. “Look, I know only one way to fix a problem you can’t control. Admit it. Ask for help. Make amends. Keep serious.”

“You’re twelve-stepping me?”

Eyebrows in the air, Ruben opened his mouth, closed it before he said anything ugly, and—

“And that solves everything.”

“No, genius. Nothing solves
everything
. Nothing’s ever totally over. Just… over there.” Ruben held his breath and counted with his heart. “It’s a step, Andy. Serious. One step.”

Andy’s shoulders fell. “Put my foot down. And then another foot. Walk away? This is my business, my mom, my family.”

“Your loser stepdad who you’ve been fucking with since you were twenty. Revenge banking and pissing on him because you could.”

“There’s no skeletons in his fucking closet; there’s a bag of bones, pile of bone dust. My mom. Dad. My career.”

“As a trust-fund hitman. What a rush.” Ruben’s face throbbed in the hot stale air, so he knew better than to touch it. “Yeah. My nose bleeds for you.”

Andy’s eyebrows tightened and his mouth turned down. “Easy for—”

“Is it? Tell me how easy I got it.” Ruben struggled to his feet. “You gotta stop assuming everyone is as stupid as you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, Bauer….” Ruben pointed. “You don’t mind if I call you
stupid
, do you? Obviously not, since you keep being stupid every chance you get. Luckily for you I gotta lotta practice being a self-destructive idiot. You talk about it like an addict, and I say that
as a fucking addict
.”

Andy nodded with grim finality. “Are you saying I don’t have a choice?”

“No! You gotta choice. I gotta choice. He’s gotta choice. All these goddamn choices. Yeah. Yeah. You get to choose. Sure!” Ruben waved his arms at the basement they were trapped in. “I’m making a suggestion, Andy. I’m suggesting it, the same way I’d suggest pulling the ripcord on a parachute because the concrete’s about to say, ‘What’s up, motherfucker?’” He didn’t get to shouting till the end.

Contrite swallow. “You have a point.”

“No shit! So you’re gonna
choose
to give him what he wants and walk away. This isn’t a dick-measuring contest. Crazy people can’t lose because they can’t win. You give him whatever financial bullshit he wants and take your fucking lumps.” But he squeezed Andy’s hand. “Money. Family. Business. Whatever.”

“This is gonna cost me way more than money.”

“Good.” Ruben scowled. “I mean it, Andy. Don’t wanna stay alive? Great. I’ll just kill you myself, and they can bury you under your mother’s fig tree.”

Andy stood beside him and squeezed back. “No, you won’t, Rube. You protect me. You kick my ass. Make me smile. Hell, you know how to finish most my sentences.”

“If I had my way, they’d all end with duct tape.” But Ruben grinned then, so relieved to stand there joking that he could almost forget what was waiting upstairs.

“I think you care about me.” Long, intense pause.

Ruben stayed perfectly still, conscious of Andy’s fingers laced warm against his.

“We’re gonna get out of here, and I’ve got some extreme apologizing to do.”