The Hood of Justice (9 page)

"I said, don't move, Constable Watson." Randy fired the gun again.

Casey jumped, the sound of the gun going off the cause of his fright. From instinct more than anything, he got down as low as he could and as fast as he could, covering his face to protect himself. If he had been the intended target though, no amount of protection could have saved him at such close range. His ears rang, the echo of the weapon's fire ringing through his head as clear as it did through the hallway. 

The intended target was Peter.

Casey craned his neck to see the security guard slump to the floor, a bullet wound right in the middle of his forehead. Blood trickled down his face until it dripped off his nose, to fall onto his shirt. Peter never moved again. It would be safe to assume the man was dead. Murdered in cold blood. "You're next, John. You're useless and therefore it is my right as an unsatisfied employer to terminate your contract with me."

He turned to look at Randy. "That's murder."

"What? You think you've got something on me now, do you, Constable Casey? Do I look scared by you being here, do I? You're fucking pathetic. It'll take a lot more than a tired old fart like your partner and a rookie who fondles blokes' dicks and with about as much experience as a hooker on her first night, to be a match for me. Try and bring me in on any charges if you can, I dare you. You don't have what it takes. You don't have the balls to come up to me and do what you have to. You're scared. I can see it in your eyes." Randy fired again.

Again the gunshot boomed though the hallway, hurting Casey's ears, making them ring with even more intensity. Again, he wasn't the intended target. The gun was aimed low. Randy's next victim was John, just as he has said it would be. The bastard.

The second security guard didn't stand a chance.

Casey clenched his teeth. Anger overtook him. He balled his fists, too. What's more, his foreskin tingled like hell. He cursed himself under his breath. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of docking. Then again, how could he even get close to Randy to enact his ability? Perhaps the man was right. He didn't have the balls to go up to him, to face him. Then again, if he did, Randy wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. What good would that do? Bruce was out of commission, sure, but he was alive. Seemed the bullet had glanced his leg. A dark stain soaked his torn trousers around his thigh. He was clutching himself just above the wound, his face a mask of agony. If Casey got himself killed right now for being stupid, then Bruce's chances of survival would be greatly diminished. 

Then Randy did something which made Casey's heart skip a beat, something which was inevitable, but an act Casey never wanted to witness. He aimed the gun straight at Bruce's head. Would even he stoop as low as to shoot a defenceless man in cold blood? Casey didn't doubt it.

To see Bruce so helpless was something he hoped he would never have to witness again. He had crawled a little closer to his partner, hoping Randy hadn't noticed. He so wanted to rip up a tourniquet from his own shirt to stop the bleeding from his leg, then cradle the man in his arms until back up and an ambulance arrived. Trouble was, he had to get Randy out of the picture. He had an idea.

"Don't shoot him," Casey whispered, confidence building within him once more.

"Or you'll do what?"

"I'll show you how you can do what I do…to get the truth out of anyone."

Randy's eyebrow lifted. "You mean, you'll teach me how to do the thing you did with John, when you docked your foreskin onto his cock? Can such a thing can be taught?"

"Yes," Casey lied.

Randy stood silent for the longest time. Casey wished he'd just get on with things, hurry up so he could get to Bruce. Eventually, he said, "Cuff your partner. Show me this skill of yours down in my dungeon where I can fully appreciate it."

"But he's bleeding bad." Casey inched closer. "He needs medical attention at the--"

"Cuff him or I fucking shoot him and put him out of his misery," Randy snapped. "The choice is yours, Constable Casey. The choice is yours." 

Casey reached toward the back of his belt, opening his handcuff pouch. He got up, heading for his partner. "Can I ask a request?"

Randy nodded, still waving the gun in Casey's direction. "Make it quick."

"I would like to kiss him…goodbye. You understand. He's my lover, too." Casey knew Bruce would react to his words, probably jump out of his skin if any lip contact was made by another bloke without damn good reason. Thankfully, he had knelt down beside him, revealing to his partner, and with a move he hoped with all his might Randy hadn't seen, that he had placed the key to the handcuffs in his mouth and under his tongue as soon as he had finished his request. Glancing down at Bruce's leg also revealed the bullet hadn't lodged itself into his flesh. It was a graze. Sure, he would need stitches, but thankfully nothing too serious.

"Well, get on with your snog, and let's go. I need to know your secret. Imagine what I could accomplish if I knew all I dealt with told me the truth. The possibilities would be endless…" Randy droned on, absorbed in his own world.

Casey leant over his partner.

A tense moment followed. Hopefully his partner would catch on. Then, after Casey had finished cuffing him, Bruce offered an ever so slight nod, but nothing more. Enough to let Casey know he understood, anyway. Good thing, too. Bruce would have decked him if he kissed him without such a plan, injured or not.

Casey came to kiss Bruce.

The man's moustache tickled, yet was ever so manly at the same time. Then, there was that soft, welcome touch of lips onto lips. The moment when everything in the world didn't matter. When everything was right and he forgot about the situation he had found himself in. Much to Casey surprise, Bruce sent in his tongue, parting his lips, conquering him. Of course, the act was for one thing and one thing only. To get the key. Such a shame. The man was a wonderful kisser. Hard enough to know he was there, yet soft enough to reveal an inner passion, a delicate soul Casey could so easily fall for. 

With his head spinning, his thoughts infused with the sensation of Bruce's touch, his strong, yet shy kiss, Casey lifted up his tongue. He groaned. Bruce touched his mouth's bounty and Casey aided in the transfer. With him being cuffed in front of his body, getting free wouldn't take long. He just hoped Bruce was able to get backup, come and rescue him. He didn't know how long he could keep Randy occupied before he caught on he was lying. He dreaded to think what the man would do to him. 

They parted their kiss.    

* * * *

Randy considered the police officer's action for a moment. The young rookie and the older, mature police officer having an affair, kissing each other right in front of him. How damn fucking hot. His groin stirred as he watched them kiss. A kiss which was most certainly one done between lovers, tongues and gentle groans of approval completing the picture.

He couldn't wait to get Constable Casey into the fuck harness. He would pound his fresh, tight arsehole good and proper, make him beg for him to stop and then beg again for him to fuck him some more. Randy licked his lips. His cock was oozing pre-cum, soaking his underwear. Yes, he would make Casey sniff his briefs, too. How delicious that would be.

Then again, perhaps he would get Jason and Casey to fuck each other for his own amusement. Have them both fight each other for his affection. Or perhaps they could take turns sucking him off. He'd bet Casey was desperate to swallow his cum.

"Are you two fuckheads finished? You have a promise to keep and I don't like waiting."

He watched Casey stand. The man was fine. His buttocks ever so smackable, even with the pants of his uniform and clumsy police belt getting in the way of the view. He had a good muscular body, too. Not Mr. Universe stuff, but lean and fit, just as a bloke should be.

Casey turned to look at him. "Ready."

Randy wasn't sure, but he thought he caught something metallic glint in their mouths between their kiss. Only for a brief moment. Something he wouldn't have even seen had he not been analysing, ogling at them while they enjoyed each other. Then again, perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps Bruce, being older, had fillings and it was a capped tooth which caught the harsh, unnatural light of the hallway. He shook off the thought as fast as he conjured it up. Because that's what the thought probably was, a figment of his imagination.

He raised his weapon. "Now open that door over there…nice and slow with no sudden moves. Remember who's got the gun. Remember it won't take much for me to shoot you or your partner if you disobey me."

"Yes," Casey replied with no tone, doing as instructed.

"Don't forget to flick on the switch. Don't want you tumbling down the stairs and hurting yourself…just yet." The thought of whipping Casey to within an inch of his life got Randy even more aroused. He couldn't wait to get on with proceedings.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

Chapter Nine

The darkness flicked away with the coming on of the lights. Jason blinked, tried to shake away the fuzziness he felt in his mind from not only the pain of the clamps all over him, but from being left in darkness for so long.

He heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. A small spark of hope kindled within him, rose up to set his mind into a more positive frame. Until he heard Randy speak. The words he spoke he couldn't make out, but in no uncertain terms, he knew his boss, his torturer, had brought in another victim to his dungeon.

Jason tried to see who it was, what other poor soul had been condemned to a slow and agonising death for the sheer joy of one sick son-of-a-bitch. He turned, the torture rack he had been secured to facing away from the staircase. In the end he would just have to wait and see Randy's next play thing. Did that mean he would be left alone? Left to live for a few more hours?

He sighed. He wanted whatever fate he had to endure by the hand of Randy to be over with as soon as possible. If he was to be killed, then so be it. He didn't want to live a moment longer, enduring any torture, if that's what it came down to.

Then Jason saw him. The most beautiful example of a man, even more stunning than how he remembered him from last night…well, he thought he had seen him last night. Hard to tell the passage of time while being tortured and locked in a dark dungeon.

The new play thing of Randy's was the short dark-haired god of a man, Casey Watson. He had lips which were so kissable, not too thick not too thin, and a body he could worship all the live long day. Casey Watson was a god. A walking, living, breathing god and Jason couldn't help but gasp.

"Yes, you like what you see, don't you, Jason, my man?" Randy came into view, too.

He wasn't so stunning to him anymore, his twisted and perverted mind helping Jason draw such a conclusion. In fact, if Casey Watson was a beautiful panther, all slick and fit and something to be admired, from afar and up close, Randy was an insect, all ugly and living of the misery of others. But not just any insect. He was one of those which sucked on the blood of others in the most unpleasant places. Randy was a genital tick…or one which feeds on another's arsehole at the very least. 

Such thoughts made Jason smile.

"Now, Constable Casey, take off your uniform. I want to see you naked and in all your glory." Randy had come around so Jason could see the revolver in his hands. No wonder the police officer was being obedient.

The sight of Casey undressing made his heart sink, that small vestige of hope blow out like a candle against the wind of dismay. If the police couldn't do anything about the fuckstain Randy, who could?

Soon Casey was naked. Damn, he was even more fine in his skin than any covering could provide. His fit body, fine muscle definition, snow white skin, and tasty cock all added even more to his appeal. Jason couldn't help but be fascinated by his extra long foreskin, too. Fuck, his skin was so kissable. In that moment, he didn't care how he got into this mess. It was his own fault. He couldn't blame Casey. Far from it. For the first time in his life he was touched by someone who actually cared for his wellbeing. Someone who would make a wonderful boyfriend, if only he could get out of here and pluck up the courage to ask him out.

Jason licked his lips. All of a sudden he felt an innate desire to make sure he lived. If only to get the chance to see Casey naked again, but in much more pleasant circumstances. He couldn't help himself, his gaze wandered all over Casey's frame over and over. He noticed the constable had the most wonderful balls hanging between his legs, too. Not too big. Not too small. Not red skinned, but a beautiful tone of brown, ripe and ready. He trimmed his pubes, too.

He liked a man who took pride in his appearance, even to the parts which few would see.

By this time Randy was beaming a smile, groans of approval passing from his lips. But unlike Jason, Randy's pleasure would have come from wanting to hurt Casey. See to it his perfect skin would be scarred for life. Jason wanted to prevent that. But how? He felt the most helpless he had ever felt in his life. Even more so than when he had no choice but to take the course of action which would lead him to a life of crime.

"Remove the clamps on your friend over there," Randy ordered. "I want to have some fun with the both of you."

Casey didn't hesitate. "Yes."

He went to Jason.

"Please be…gentle," Jason said with a moan as Casey examined him, looked concerned, perhaps horrified at the state of him. The clamps hadn't drawn blood, but still, they hurt no less because of it.

Casey leant forward, coming so his lips almost touched his ears. He took off the first clamp. Instant relief washed over Jason. "I'm here to rescue you. Stay alert and do as I say," he whispered with a breath even an angel would have had difficulty reproducing.

"No talking," Randy roared.

In that instant, Casey let out a howl of agony. A whip had lashed his back, the sound sickening to the point of Jason wanting to throw up what little he had left in his stomach. Casey's eyes reflected anger, an anger so deep and so ingrained, he really pitied Randy when the time came for his just deserts. Jason hoped Casey had a full squad of men waiting for a single command from him. On that command they would then rush in and break Randy's head into two neat pieces, like someone would when they split a watermelon. The man deserved no less.