No Rest for the Wicked

A/N: Hey all, here is part two!  Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed, please enjoy!

Part II

When they reached the city, Petey drove them a few blocks away from the apartment and parked the car.  “All right,” he said, voice flat.  “What’s the game plan?”

Aaron glanced out the front window and the nearly empty street.  “You stay, I’ll go in.  Give me that gun.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Petey said.  “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so, huh?  And why’s that?  Tell me again why you think you can handle Kyle better than I can?  I’ve known him for ten years, remember?”

“Yeah, but…I’m not going to give you my gun.”

Aaron sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt.  “Christ, fine, I’ll go in there naked, what’s the number?”

Petey sighed and pursed his lips.  “It’s apartment number 405,” and then, when Aaron opened the door and put a foot to the pavement, he added, “wait.” 

Aaron glanced at him.  Petey was weighing his gun in his hands.  Then he handed it over. 

“If I’m not back in an hour, leave,” Aaron said.

Petey gave him a weird look, one that made Aaron certain he was thinking the fuck could you be doing in there for an hour? but Aaron didn’t think about it much longer, exiting the car and striding the few blocks to Kyle’s apartment building.

It was easy enough to jimmy the lock to the building and then he was in, tucking the gun in the waistband of his pants and hurrying up the stairs.  He reached apartment 405 and pressed an ear to the door.  Everything was quiet inside. 

His heart was beating heavy and fast, a mix of excitement and apprehension pumping adrenaline through his veins.  He breathed in and out slowly, deeply, getting his hands to stop shaking so hard.  Then he picked this lock too and went in.

The apartment was dingy, tinged with blue light streaming through the windows.  He took a few steps inside, drawing his gun.  He walked down the hallway, carefully examining the tiny kitchen and living room.  He pushed open one door to the right and peered into the pitch black bathroom.

There was only one door left, right beside the bathroom.  Aaron took another steadying breath, readied his stance.  He pointed the gun at the doorjamb and carefully turned the doorknob.  The door creaked minimally as it swung open and Aaron remained motionless as a stone, watching the prone shape on the bed, the head of blonde hair, which did not move.

He took a few steps into the room, gun trained on the sleeping figure, aware of every minute shift of his clothing, the shallow sound of his own breathing.  He was almost to the foot of the bed when something flickered in his peripheral vision. 

Aaron turned on the spot, gun swinging toward the closet, yet he hadn’t completed the motion when something hit him hard on the side of the head and he fell to his knees, gun clattering to the ground.  His eyes were swimming, but he could just see someone lean down to pick up the gun.  Aaron didn’t have a hope of fighting for it, the way his head was spinning.

When his vision finally cleared, he looked up into the face of the man he had been thinking about for years.  Kyle was turning the gun over in his hands, watching Aaron carefully.  The person on the bed sat up and they both turned to look at him.  The blonde haired boy turned to Kyle, face neutral.

“Váyase,” Kyle said, and the boy left.

Aaron’s blood was pumping loud in his ears, the excitement turning to anger, rage.  Rage that he had been here, so close, in the same room as a defenseless Kyle.  And he had blown it.  He had his chance, and Aaron knew full well that he was never going to get another one like it. 

“Well?” he snapped.  “The fuck are you waiting for?  Kill me.”

One of Kyle’s eyebrows twitched up.  “Kill you?  Why?  You’re defenseless.”

Aaron clenched his jaw.  The action made his head throb and he forced himself to relax.  “And since when has that mattered to you?” 

Kyle shrugged, ceding the point.  “Maybe I’m just waiting to hear why you’d sneak into my apartment to kill me in the middle of the night.” 

Aaron had to gather himself before he did something idiotic.  “Oh I wonder,” he finally snapped.

Kyle raised his eyebrows, waiting.  Aaron noticed that while the gun was lying placidly in Kyle’s hands, the muzzle was still aimed at him.

“Why?” Aaron finally asked when Kyle said nothing.  His voice was growing louder without his control.  “Why? You sold me out!”

Kyle rolled his eyes and sighed.  “You would have done the same.”

“No, I didn't do the same, that's the whole point!”

“Well you should have,” Kyle said.  “It’s not my fault you weren’t smart enough to think of it yourself.” 

“Smart enough?” Aaron asked.  He made to get to his feet but Kyle’s hand on the gun firmed so Aaron stayed on his knees.  “You think I didn’t think of turning you in?  You think I didn’t know that was my best option?  Of course I knew, but you were my partner, you stupid son of a bitch!”

“They needed someone to blame for that robbery, Aaron.  The cops weren’t going to let both of us go.”

“If someone had stuck to the plan, they wouldn’t have had a choice but to let both of us go!  But you had to go and be a cocky asshole and ruin the whole thing.”

Kyle’s face turned thoughtful.  “Well.  Ruin it for you.”

Aaron lunged to his feet, and in that one second, the safety on the gun came off with a click that made Aaron stiffen.  Kyle stepped forward.  Aaron had to fight the urge to back away.  Kyle paused a few feet in front of Aaron, keeping the gun carefully pointed in his direction.  The slatted blinds let in light from the full moon, painting Kyle's face with sharp contrasting stripes.  The blue light accentuated the sharp bones of his face, turned his hair white-blonde.  Kyle always had the disconcerting effect of looking both young and old at the same time.  He moved, spoke and carried himself like someone older than his true twenty-eight years, but his face, the wiry frame, spoke strongly of youth.

“You're staring,” Kyle said.

“You're holding a gun.”

Kyle circled slowly around Aaron.  Aaron turned in a circle, keeping him in view, finally stopping when his back was to the bed.  Then Kyle stepped forward, and Aaron stepped back, the backs of his knees hitting the edge of the bed.  He sat down heavily. 

“You weren't staring at the gun,” Kyle said. 

Kyle got closer, got into Aaron’s space.  He stretched up, elongated, slinking up Aaron's body, and Aaron saw fifty opportunities flash before his eyes, fifty different ways to immobilize Kyle hardly without trying.  But then the moment was gone, he had missed his chance.  Kyle had planted himself in Aaron's lap and Aaron could feel the hard jut of the gun against the back of his skull.  Not poised to kill him, just...resting there.

Aaron clenched his hands in the rumpled sheets of Kyle's bed and then relaxed.  Kyle was so close, so warm, and Aaron still wanted him dead, still wanted him to pay for what he did, for his betrayal, but some part of him still missed Kyle and what they had before.

Kyle nudged his nose against Aaron's, ran his fingers along Aaron's jaw, tilting his face up.  "Did you miss me?”

Aaron scoffed, didn’t even deign to answer.  His breathing was getting shallow.

Kyle shrugged, grinned, leaned forward to press his mouth against Aaron's.  Aaron turned away, and just like that, the hand at the back of his head firmed, the mouth of the gun pressing below his skull.

“Kiss me,” Kyle said, using the same authoritative voice he had perfected early on, that still did odd things to Aaron whenever he heard it.

“Or you'll kill me?”

Kyle scooted forward on Aaron's lap, his face stony.  “Maybe.  You'd like that, wouldn't you?  Imagine all the things I could do to you if you were dead.  You'd never even know.”

Aaron felt his stomach clench.  "That's disgusting."

Kyle leaned forward, his breath hot against Aaron's ear, the side of his neck.  “You like it when I'm disgusting.”

Aaron looked at him, the gun slipping against his skull.  Kyle watched him unconcernedly, his face shrouded in darkness as he turned away from the window, the gleam of his eyes the brightest thing Aaron could find. 

Then Kyle pressed forward again, quicker this time, more insistent, and Aaron closed his mouth against the assault but Kyle gripped his jaw and forced his mouth open wider.  Aaron's hands flew from the bed to Kyle's hips, gripping tight, about to push him away.

The gun stopped him, moving to press against his temple as Kyle pulled away.  “Ah, ah, ah,” he said, tapping the gun against Aaron's head in time with his words.  Aaron's skull gave a dull throb.  “Kiss me, Aaron.  How long has it been since you've been with anyone?  I didn't think they allowed queer conjugal visits.”

“They don't,” Aaron said, despite himself.

“And yet you can still manage to turn me down,” Kyle mused.  His hand dropped to push at the front of Aaron's jeans.  “Hardly interested,” he said.  “Should I be offended?”

“Yes, please,” Aaron said.

Kyle ran his hand up Aaron's chest, began undoing the buttons of his shirt one-handed with a telling amount of alacrity.  “Or maybe you found someone in the cage, huh?  A Daddy who would take care of you, and at night fuck you raw and useless, until you couldn't move?”

Kyle bit his lip, glanced up at Aaron through his lashes, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, giving Aaron a look of pure, unadulterated innocence.

Aaron stayed silent. 

Kyle slid the shirt off Aaron's shoulders, that gun still pressed against Aaron's temple, Kyle's bottom lip still caught between his teeth.  “That's it, isn't it?” he asked, his tone quiet, sweet, like a child asking for a glass of warm milk.  “You got sent away, and no matter what you've heard about prison, the stories don't really compare, do they?  You probably walked in there, ready to outsmart them all, but...well, it's more about brawn in there, if you know what I mean.  And when you used that smart mouth of yours—because God knows you couldn't stop yourself—someone bent you over for the first time, just to teach you a lesson.  You probably begged for it to stop, right?”

Kyle's eyes glittered, his voice still soft, one hand brushing through Aaron's hair like a comfort, a promise.

“But it didn't.  You were still new, and a virgin, you know, back there, and God it probably felt great, being inside you like that.”  Kyle drew in a shuddering breath, eyes turned down, almost sad.  “I wish I could have been there,” he whispered.  “I wish I could have seen the look on your face.”

Aaron struck before a plan of action had been fully formed in his head.  One hand lifted to wrap around the muzzle of the gun, jerking it easily out of Kyle's slowly waning grip.  The other hand gripped Kyle hard by the hip, pushing him onto the bed, allowing Aaron to roll out of his shirt and onto Kyle, pushing the gun flat against Kyle's bare chest.

For a moment, neither of them moved.  Aaron was straddling Kyle's lap, the gun pressed to his chest, the other hand on one of Kyle's arms, both of which were lying placidly on either side of his head, almost as if he were surrendering.

“Well?” Kyle asked.  “You have the gun, you have me pinned.  Kill me.”

Aaron's finger fluttered over the trigger.  The safety was off, Kyle was just lying there. 

“Come on!”  Kyle's arm—the one not pinned—came up, his fingers wrapping around the gun, pulling it tighter against his chest.  “Do it!”

“Shut up,” Aaron muttered, his eyes fixed on that flat chest, the slim body.  He hadn't been this close to Kyle in over two years and he couldn't stop the memories that flooded him.  Their relationship had been primarily physical anyway, no matter what they were doing.  It meant that Aaron held a certain reverence for Kyle's body, one that he couldn't easily forget.

Kyle moved and Aaron blinked, focusing in again.  Both of Kyle's hands were at the front of his pants, pulling the drawstring.  Aaron watched, heart beating hard in his chest, gun still pressed against Kyle's chest, but he wasn't sure how tight his grip was anymore.

Kyle wiggled out of his pants, his blue eyes watching Aaron closely.  Aaron remembered that his mother had always told him never to trust men with blue eyes, and he didn't trust Kyle, not anymore, not as far as he could throw him, but Aaron was still entranced by him, even after everything that had happened.  He wondered what his mother would say about that.

Then Kyle was spread out naked beneath him, and he curled one long-fingered hand around Aaron's hand and the gun again and slid them both slowly down.  If Aaron thought his heart had been beating fast before, he clearly didn't remember how worked up Kyle could get him.  He watched the black metal skim down the line between Kyle's pecs, over his flat stomach, dip briefly into his belly button, down, down, down.....

Aaron was still gripping the gun, but only just.  Eventually Kyle stopped, presumably when the gun was where he wanted it, pressed up tight against where he was open and waiting.  Aaron swallowed, his eyelids flickering.

“The—” he cleared his throat.  “The safety's off.”

Kyle's eyes tightened, just a fraction, and Aaron knew him well enough to know that he was annoyed.  "Then pull the trigger."

Kyle released the gun, trailed his hand up his body, finally stretching both arms over his head and staying like that, leaving his entire body exposed to Aaron's gaze with his knees drawn up and his cock hard and curving toward his stomach.

Aaron didn't pull the trigger, couldn't bring himself to.  He might have wanted Kyle dead, but not like this, not with him pliant and waiting, face impassive.  He wanted Kyle begging for his life, regretful of what he'd done, but Aaron should have known that that would never happen.  That wasn't Kyle's style.

Aaron pressed the gun forward just a hint, barely breaching the ring of muscles but Kyle's legs opened, his back arched, he moaned theatrically.  Aaron knew he was putting on a show, knew he probably hadn't felt anything, but God the sight of him, it didn't even matter, all of that sinfully smooth skin twisting, muscles flexing, tendons jumping into view and smoothing out again.  Aaron had enough presence of mind to put the safety back on before his grip on the gun loosened and it dropped to the bed with a flump.

Kyle kept his arms casually sprawled above him as Aaron fell on top of him, only deigning to lift one hand to pull at Aaron's hair when it was clear Aaron wasn't kissing him the way Kyle wanted.  Aaron ignored Kyle's urging in favor of licking down Kyle's throat, biting at his collarbone, rolling his hips into Kyle's.  Kyle made a real noise of pleasure this time, a startled grunt and Aaron rolled off of him long enough to kick off his pants and boxers. 

“I thought you wanted to kill me,” Kyle said as Aaron fell back on top of him.  Aaron noted the color on Kyle's face, the breathy note to his voice, and held back a smirk with difficulty.

“Gun's too far,” he said.  “I'll do it later.”  He leaned down, ready to bite those swollen lips, but Kyle turned away, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.



“You could always snap my neck,” he said.

Aaron rolled his eyes, grabbed Kyle's jaw and turned his face back into reasonable kissing distance.  And suddenly Aaron was on his back, Kyle on top of him.  It happened so suddenly that he wasn't quite sure how Kyle had facilitated that, but Kyle had both of his hands pinned above his head, his face leaning directly over Aaron's.

“Get off,” Aaron muttered, twisting hips, but Kyle clamped his thighs down and all that resulted in was a bit of interesting friction.

“Mm.”  Kyle shuddered.  “Do that again,” but instead of waiting for Aaron, he went right ahead and rolled his hips forward.  “Mmm.”

Aaron pulled his hands free while Kyle was occupied and then grabbed Kyle around the neck and forced him onto the bed, pushing him onto his stomach.  Kyle accommodated the move readily, reaching his arms out to grasp onto the sheets, sticking his ass into the air and widening his thighs. 

Christ, but did Aaron like that view.  He sucked two fingers into his mouth because God knew if he stuck his fingers down Kyle's throat, they would probably be gone in an instant.  He got them nice and wet before teasing the rim of Kyle's ass and then pressing them both in. 

Kyle's body tensed and then relaxed, white-knuckling the sheets for an instant.  He turned his head to look down at Aaron, his gaze hot, smoldering.  If there was one thing Kyle like, it was being hurt, being manhandled.  He was a masochistic son of a bitch, and Aaron knew that better than anyone at this point.  So he wasn't gentle.  He pulled his fingers out and pushed them back in, leaning over Kyle's body to grip his hair and shove his face into the sheets. 

“Nngh.”  Kyle opened his mouth to pant into the mattress, face screwed up in a mixture of pain and pleasure, hips surging upward and then back down as Aaron speared into him again.  “You sure—hngh—learned a few things in prison, huh?” Kyle asked, voice muffled.

Aaron reached deeper his fingers, twisted them and spread them apart and Kyle made a sound that Aaron could only describe as a whine; high-pitched and revealingly needy.

“What was that?” Aaron asked, tightening his grip in Kyle's hair.

Kyle ignored that, asking a question of his own.  “Is that all?”  Aaron watched drops of sweat bead along Kyle's back and neck, leaned down to lick a salty spot on his left shoulder.  “That all you've got?  Christ, put some muscle into it, at--hah.”  He broke off as Aaron pressed a third finger inside of him. 

He leaned back, releasing his grip on Kyle's hair.  Kyle immediately raised himself onto his elbows, one hand snaking between his legs to grab his cock.  Before it had made contact, Aaron caught his wrist and pinned it tight against his back.  Kyle made a sound that might have been a chuckle if it had more noise behind it, and then he paused, groaned out a “yeah,” as Aaron pushed his fingers inside again, making sure to rub against that spot that even after two years could find within moments.

Aaron let his fingers push in and out once, twice, and then he pulled away.  Kyle looked over his shoulder the moment Aaron retreated and he watched as Aaron spat into his hand and slicked up his cock.  He pushed into that tight heat without any teasing, just popped the head of his cock past the ring of muscles and watched Kyle watch him do it. 

Kyle's forehead puckered as he continued to push in, but Aaron didn’t stop.  Being hurt, that was what got Kyle off, that's why he played all his games so well, why the business was so perfect for him.

Kyle let out a long breath, let his head hang down as Aaron pulled out, pushed back in, twice as hard, ready to make Kyle feel it, really feel the pain, and the anger, and the hurt.  So he shoved Kyle's head back into the sheets, leaned over him as Aaron pumped in and out of that tight heat, too dry, too hard, but Kyle's hips were moving with him, his hands locked in the sheets, shoulders flexing, thighs trembling, mouth gaping open.

Aaron leaned down to sink his teeth into the meat of Kyle's shoulder, hard, ready to leave a mark.  Kyle cried out, muscles twitching, ass clenching down hard enough for Aaron to pull away, grit his teeth and force himself not to come.  One of Aaron's hands fell to Kyle's hip to pull him back harder, faster onto Aaron's dick and Kyle jerked again, his hand immediately falling to palm his erection.

“Touch yourself and I will snap your neck,” Aaron said.

Kyle went ahead and grabbed himself anyway.  Aaron abandoned his hold on Aaron's hip to grab both of his hands and shove them into the pillows above his head, his other hand still sunk deep in Kyle's golden hair. 

“What did I say?” Aaron snapped.

Kyle choked out another one of those breathy laughs, though this one had a definite edge of unhappiness.  Aaron picked up the pace another notch, moved the hand in Aaron's hair back to his hip to hold him easier.  He could tell Kyle was right on the edge, could see his cock dripping onto the sheets.  Aaron was on edge too, forced himself to hold out just long enough to drive Kyle crazy with it.  Already Kyle's wrists were twisting in the confines of Aaron's hands, his hips trying desperately to control the rhythm, but Aaron kept him still, dictated the movement of his body. 

“Something wrong?”  Aaron panted, looked down and watched himself slide in and out of Kyle's body a few times before he had to stop to keep himself from losing it too soon.

Kyle didn't respond, but his pants were beginning to be more than just breath.  Aaron could hear tiny little noises buried beneath, small, nasally sounds that he knew all too well. 

“Did you want something, Kyle?” he asked instead.

“No,” Kyle snapped, hips bucking hard against Aaron's hand.  Aaron lost his control for one moment, but before Kyle could truly gain the upper hand, he brought his palm down hard against Kyle's ass.  Kyle moaned, long and low, his muscles stuttering and gripping Aaron achingly tight for one delirium-inducing moment.

“What do you want?” Aaron panted, sweat rolling down his chest.  “C'mon, tell me and I'll give it to you.  What do you want, Kyle?”  He smacked him again.  “What do you want?”

Kyle kept his face in the mattress, his shoulders taught, hands in fists.  “I want to come,” he said.

“What?” Aaron snapped.  “Louder.”

Kyle just barely raised his head up, looking straight down.  “I want to come.”

“Louder!”

Kyle shuddered, lip curling as he glared at Aaron.  “I want to fucking come!”

Aaron let him suffer for another moment, staring him down as though considering just saying no.  Then he reached around and palmed Kyle's cock, wrapped his hand tight around him, thumbed the slit, letting his nail just barely push in. 

Kyle's face screwed up and he grabbed the sheets harder, fucking into Aaron's hand and then back onto his cock.  His convulsing muscles pulled Aaron over just a moment later, his thrusts sliding quick and fast as he filled Kyle's ass. 

Aaron groaned as Kyle collapsed onto the bed and he slid out of him.  Kyle wasted no time in rolling over and sitting up, the slightest crease between his eyebrows displaying his discomfort.  He stood up and walked around the edge of the bed and Aaron watched him warily, too tired and sexed-out to do more than that.  Kyle paused with his back to Aaron and Aaron watched as a trail of come trickled down the back of one of his thighs.

Kyle exited the room and a moment later Aaron heard the faucet turn on in the bathroom.  Then Kyle returned, smacking a cold, soggy washcloth on Aaron's chest.  Kyle sat down on the bed next to him and watched as Aaron cleaned himself up.  When he was done Aaron slid the rag onto the ground and made to sit up, but Kyle put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back onto the bed.

“Turn over.”

Aaron frowned, trying to read Kyle's expression, but his guard was up, his eyes shuttered.  He could have been thinking anything.  “Why?”

“Do it.”  Kyle put a hand on Aaron's shoulder and against his better judgment, Aaron turned over. 

Kyle drew two fingers down Aaron's spine, ruffling his other hand through Aaron's hair.  The hairs on the back of Aaron's neck stood up.  He tried to turn his head to watch Kyle, but Kyle tightened the grip in his hair and kept him still.  Alarm bells were suddenly going off in Aaron's head.  He forced both hands beneath his body, ready to physically push himself up, push Kyle off him.  But then he felt pressure just below his skull on the left side of his spinal cord.

Aaron had one terrified, disoriented moment to say “no!” before Kyle had brought his hand back and jabbed it sharply forward again, right on the pressure point.  Aaron's vision blacked out and he collapsed back onto the bed.

He woke up slowly, groggily, and it was the second time in an hour that fucker had hit him in the head, and Aaron was just so astounded that he was still alive that it took him a few moments to realize that that he was still naked on Kyle's bed, spread-eagle, both arms tied to the headboard.

He groaned, and tried to twist free.  Something that had previously been on his chest fluttered to the bed and Aaron looked down, distracted.  It was a small piece of paper and on it, he could see Kyle's neat, precise handwriting. 

NEXT TIME YOU'RE DEAD.

Aaron blew out a breath and spent the next twenty minutes struggling to get his hands free.  During that time, he didn't hear a single peep from anywhere in the apartment.  Not the squeak of a floorboard, or a shift of clothing.  Just silence.  Aaron glanced toward the window to gauge how long he had been out but Kyle had closed the blinds, no doubt to disorient him even further when he woke up.

When he finally worked his hands free, he pulled on his clothes hastily, noting with distaste that Kyle had stolen his gun.  When he finally hurried down the hallway and got a glimpse of the main part of the apartment, he skidded to a stop. 

The place looked as if it had been ransacked.  Every drawer was open, papers were scattered across the room, parts of the baseboard had been ripped away from the walls.  He walked to the kitchen, found the same mess.  There was still a good amount of things left in the apartment--furniture, cutlery, tableware, but the message was clear.  Just a few minutes of leafing through the place told Aaron everything he needed to know.  There was nothing valuable left.  No weapons, no information....Kyle had taken everything of importance.  Taken it, because he was never coming back, and it was unlikely that Aaron would ever have a chance to kill him.  Because now Kyle was expecting it.

Aaron left the apartment.  Petey was right where Aaron had left him, looking anxious and pacing back in forth in the narrow alley beside the parked car.  He stopped when he saw Aaron, scowling.

“The hell have you been?” he asked.  “I thought they had killed you or something.  Did you get him?”

“Get him?  The fuck do you mean, 'get him'?  Didn't you see him leaving?”

Petey's hands jumped to his hair, his eyes popping.  “What? No.  The fuck happened?”

“Your stupid fucking plan, that's what,” Aaron snapped.  He felt dirty, his skin crawling.  “He knew I was coming for him.”

For a moment, Petey didn't say anything.  Then his hands dropped to his sides and he gave Aaron a look of such pure astonishment that Aaron was a little taken aback by such a real and obvious show of emotion.  He had obviously been around too many fakes and crooks for too long when real reactions began to unnerve him.

“What, and you weren't expecting that?” Petey asked.  “He flipped on you.  When your bill was up, he knew you'd come after him.  Hell, everyone knew you'd go after him!  It was practically common fucking knowledge that the first thing you'd do when you got out was find Kyle.”

“Fine, fine, shut the fuck up,” Aaron said, waving a hand in Petey's direction.  He was frustrated and annoyed and so angry with himself that he had lost his best opportunity for revenge.

Aaron leaned against the brick wall across from Petey, staring up at the sky.  This had been his only tip, and he suspected he wouldn't get this lucky another time.  After all, Petey had practically dropped into his lap and told him exactly where Kyle was.  That kind of lead comes once in a lifetime, and he had blown his on a mediocre fuck.

“Fuck,” Aaron said, just to get it off his chest, just to let it be heard in the cool night air.  “Fuck!”

Petey didn't respond for a minute, and then he pushed away from the wall.  Aaron looked up.  Petey looked a bit hesitant.

“Well...” Petey shrugged lightly.  “We could always talk to his mother.”

It took a long time for that to sink into Aaron's mind.  “His...what?”

“His mother,” Petey repeated, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocking back on his heels.  “She might know something.”

“Kyle doesn't have a mother,” Aaron said.  “He was in foster care his whole life.”

Petey rolled his eyes, smiled just slightly.  “Everybody has a mother.  Kyle went and saw his a few weeks ago.”

“A few—how long have you been following him?”



Petey frowned.  “I don’t know, a month?  Maybe longer?”

Aaron was certain that he had misjudged Petey from the start.  He was still young and open and reckless, but following Kyle for a few blocks unnoticed was no mean feat, and a month...well, either Kyle was getting sloppy, which, based on his possessive and all-consuming paranoia Aaron doubted, or Petey knew how to become invisible when he wanted to.  And that, in the business, was often the difference between a hard mattress and a pine box.

But still, if Petey had been tailing him from so long, Aaron wasn’t sure why they were even having this conversation.  “So?  Where is he?  Where else does he stay?”

Petey shrugged, shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I can’t follow him all the time, you know.  I have other things to do.”

Aaron highly doubted that, but he let it pass.  “Well, fine,” he floundered.  “All right.  Let's...go see his mother.”

So the next day they were up again, heading to an overrun neighborhood on the edge of the city.  Petey pointed out the house that he had seen Kyle enter and then hung back, letting Aaron do the dirty work himself.  Aaron didn't mind.  Petey was a good source of information and that was about it, he still had a thing or a million to learn about conning people.  Aaron had a fleeting urge to teach him, teach him like he had taught Kyle back when everything started, when Kyle was a wide-eyed teenager with a give-'em-hell attitude and long, quick fingers.  But Aaron was too old and too tired for any of that anymore.  The urge was gone, Aaron was climbing up the creaking front steps, and Petey was just a dumb kid who would get himself killed or arrested and straighten up the hard way.

When Aaron reached the front door, he saw that letters were spilling out of the letterbox and scattered around the moldering doormat.  Aaron stooped and picked one up, looking at the name stamped onto the front.  Ms. Kathleen Ackerman.  So Kyle was German.  The things you learned about some people.

Aaron knocked on the door.  He examined a crumbling flower pot with a dried stump in it while he waited.  The whole house was really falling apart.  He wondered if eventually the city would just bulldoze over it, Kathleen Ackerman and all.  After all, it seemed as though she'd been ignoring all of her bills as much as the housekeeping.

He knocked again, but Aaron had a sneaking suspicion that a woman with so many creditors on her ass would not come to the door so readily.  He wondered briefly how Kyle had managed to get her to the door as he tried the doorknob.  Aaron was surprised when it turned in his hand.  He had not been expecting that.

The house smelled about as good as he had imagined, like mold and stale beer.  There were water stains on the ceiling and directly across from the door, paint was chipping off the railings of a sagging staircase.  A thin layer of dust and grime lay over almost everything Aaron could see, save for a small trail that cut through the filth on the floor, presumably where Ms. Ackerman walked from room to room.

He stayed in the entryway, listening.  He thought he could hear something clinking from the back of the house.  He cleared his throat.  “Ms. Ackerman?”

Something smashed and a woman swore.  A moment later, Ms. Ackerman tottered out of a door behind the staircase in all her muumuu and carpet slipper-ed glory.  Aaron could tell at once that this woman, before she had fallen into drunken disorder, used to be quite pretty.  He thought he could see a bit of Kyle in her, though that might have been because he was looking for it.

“You get the hell out of my house!” Ms. Ackerman yelled, rushing toward him with an empty cup in her hand.  Aaron took a step back, put his hands up in surrender.

“I'm not a collector,” he said. 

Ms. Ackerman lowered the cup, then raised it again, her face falling back into a scowl.  “You're a goddamned liar!”

“I'm not,” Aaron said.  “I want to talk about Kyle.”

Aaron got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach when no sign of recognition passed her features, a feeling almost like...pity.  Not for her, but for Kyle.  Aaron tamped that down.  “Your son.”

“Yeah, and what about him?” Ms. Ackerman asked, cup still raised.

“Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know?  And why should I tell you even if I did?”

Aaron licked his lips, forced himself not to demand an answer.  “I'm a friend—”

“Apparently not, if you don't even know where to find him.”  Ms. Ackerman dropped her cup to the floor and slunk back to the kitchen. 

Aaron followed her, knowing her exit was meant as a dismissal but taking it as permission nonetheless.  The kitchen was as disgusting as the rest of the house, but also had the added displeasure of dirty dishes heaped in the sink.  The smell of rotting food wasn't overwhelming, but certainly prevalent enough to make Aaron clench his teeth.

Ms. Ackerman grabbed a bottle of tequila off the counter and had just raised it to her lips when she turned and saw Aaron.

“What?  What the fuck do you want now?  I just told you I don't know where he is!”

“He came and saw you recently, didn't he?” Aaron asked.  He made to lean his hip against the countertop, but then thought better of it.

“Yeah, and?”

“What did he want?”

Ms. Ackerman didn't respond immediately.  She put the bottle back on a small bit of empty counter space and folded her arms over her chest.  “That's a little personal, don't you think?”

Aaron shrugged.  “Depends on what you talked about.”

“Listen, you,” she began, putting one hand on her hip and pointing aggressively at Aaron with the other.  “I don't know who you think you are, but what I talked about with my son is none of your goddamned business.  Now get out of my house!”

“This is the way I see it,” Aaron said, unmoving.  “Over there—” he flicked his hand casually toward the countertop to his left— “is a court summons.  Considering the fact that it hasn't been opened, I'm going to assume that you didn't go, in which case someone will most likely be here to arrest you soon.  Now, I know a few guys down at the police department who are probably dragging their feet arresting you because they have bigger fish to fry, but, if I called in a favor I'm sure one of my buddies could be here pretty soon.

“So, why don't you tell me about Kyle's visit, or I'll leave and call one of my friends right now.”  Aaron waited, watching Ms. Ackerman closely.  He had no idea if the document in that envelope was a court summons.  It was obviously from the U.S. government, but he had a bit of experience with summons, knew that the envelopes themselves never looked very incriminating.  It took opening the letter to see what it contained.  That was always the worst bit; the nasty surprise inside.  So Aaron had no idea if that’s what Ms. Ackerman’s letter was, but based on everything he had seen of her, it wasn't too far out of left field to think she was wanted by the courts.

Thankfully, Aaron could see the flicker of fear in her eyes.  He shrugged as if he thought she were refusing him and made to turn away, but he had hardly moved when she said, “Wait!”

He turned back around, stuck his hands in his pockets and waited.  Ms. Ackerman just stared at him for a minute before she burst out, “Well what the hell do you want to know?”

“Everything.  Tell me everything he said when he came here.”

Ms. Ackerman turned and slumped into one of the chairs at her kitchen table.  Aaron took a few steps closer to her but remained standing.

“When he first got here, he told me who he was,” she said.  “Didn't believe at first--course, who would?  But he had all his documents and everything.  So—shit, we talked, I don't remember everything he said.  He didn't stay long.  He asked me—you know, the regular stuff—why I gave him up, what I did for work, who his daddy was.  Well, I couldn't tell him much, mind you.”

“And he didn't tell you anything about anyone he might see or anywhere he might be staying?” Aaron asked, but he already knew the answer.  Kyle was no fool, and telling a complete stranger anything that might make him easy to track would certainly be considered foolish.

“No.”  Ms. Ackerman was clearly done talking.  She stood up and grabbed the bottle again and Aaron turned to leave, feeling severely disappointed.

“You know him well, my boy?”

Aaron paused, turned toward her again, surprised.  “Well as anyone, I guess.”

Ms. Ackerman nodded and looked down at her feet.  Aaron was taken aback to see that she looked awkward, as if she didn't know quite what to say.  Aaron hadn't thought she had enough presence of mind to have that depth of emotion.  Apparently he was wrong. 



“He's an odd one, isn't he?” Ms. Ackerman said. 

Aaron didn't answer, but she didn't need the encouragement.

“He's...he's a good kid, right?  He's done well for himself?  He didn't say, when he came, what he did.”

Aaron cleared his throat, forced himself not to glance down.  “He's done well,” he said.  “He...he's in marketing.  He's very successful.”

Aaron almost thought he saw something like relief pass over her face, but then it was gone.  “Well, that's it then, right?  You'll be going.”

Aaron turned again to leave, but again he paused before he had gotten far.  He couldn't say why, out of all the scraps and debris scattered around the house, the small, piece of paper caught his eye.  Maybe it was because it was the cleanest thing he could see, or maybe because it was folded neatly with sharp, crisp lines.  At any rate, Aaron stooped to pick up the piece of paper and unfolded it. 

It was a receipt to a convenience store in a town north of Seattle.  Aaron didn't recognize the name on the bottom of it, but that didn't mean anything.  The receipt was for a bottle of water, an energy drink and a newspaper.  The combination of items was nothing special, but Aaron had been with Kyle long enough to know his patterns, the few habits that he still held on to through all his training.  This was one of them.  No matter where he and Aaron travelled, back before everything had gone to shit, back when they were on the road all day, just managing to get by, that was what he'd get.  On occasion, he'd get something to eat, but he would always, always get those three items.  

So Aaron took the receipt and left the house.  If Ms. Ackerman noticed or cared, she didn't say anything.  He met up with Petey down the street and pushed the paper into his hand.

“We're going north,” he said, getting into Petey's car.

Petey got into the driver's seat, still examining the receipt.  “What is this?” he asked.

“Kyle's.”

“You recognize his alias?”

Aaron frowned, reached over to turn the key in the ignition because Petey didn't look like he was planning on going anywhere soon.  “No, but it's his.  So let's go.”

Petey licked his lips, took a breath.  “Listen, man—”

“No, no, don't 'listen, man' me,” Aaron said.  “You've known Kyle for, what? A year, two?  Well I taught the kid everything he knows.  I know him better than anyone.  So, let’s go.”

Petey raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the receipt in his hand once more and then crumpled it and dropped it onto the floor.  "All right.  North it is."

#

Petey had obviously run out of things to talk about by the time this trip around.  The ride over was blessedly silent, this time around.  They stopped for the night once, holing up in the car.  And then they were back to driving.  Petey only spoke when they finally made it to town, unclenching his jaw to ask, “Well?  You have any more ideas?”

“Head toward the water.  There's a boathouse.”

Petey did as directed, turning right onto a street that sloped slowly down.  “What boathouse?  How do you know about this?”

“It's Dan's.  It should be somewhere down here.”

Petey was surprised, Aaron could tell, but he thankfully didn't say anything.  Aaron had him park by the side of the road and together they walked down toward the water, back where Aaron remembered Dan's boathouse being.  It was one of Dan's safe houses.  Aaron had only ever been there once before, years and years ago, back when he and Kyle were in a pinch and needed a place to lay low.  Fuck, but everything had been so different back then.

Aaron was almost surprised when they broke through a clearing of trees and saw the house.  He pushed Petey back under cover of the woods and then began edging around the front of the house, staying away from the water and the open areas of the rocky shoreline.  Eventually, after a few minutes of watching the house, Aaron got low and hurried closer, plastering himself beneath a window, Petey right beside him.

Aaron waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, and then just barely peeked above the window.  He could see Dan's back, right there, three feet from the other side of the glass.  Aaron ducked down again, raising an eyebrow at Petey who glanced at the window and then nodded just barely. 

Aaron slid a hand up, putting his fingers under the bottom of the window and pulling out.  It creaked and he paused, breath still in his lungs, but nothing happened.  No one shouted, no guns were fired, and no one came bursting out of the house.  Aaron pulled once again, fingers pressed hard against the wood, scraping against the windowsill.  Then the window gave free and Aaron could suddenly hear voices inside.

“—owe me!” Dan was saying.  “And I'm not one to give favors on a good day.”

“It isn't a favor,” Kyle said, and Aaron could practically see the unimpressed lift to his eyebrows, the frown that he always wore nowadays.  “It's a proposition.”

“It is suicide.  You'd never be able to hit that with a team of men, let alone just yourself.”

“Well if you say yes, it wouldn't be just me, would it?”

Aaron could feel Petey's breath on his neck, the slight acceleration.  He wondered, briefly, if he was thinking of doing something stupid, but then Dan was speaking again and Aaron’s attention was immediately diverted. 

“Now see here, before you try to rope me into anything, we need to talk about your debt to me, all the money that I loaned you under the impression that you'd give it back.”

“You were under the impression I'd pay you back?  I can't imagine why you'd think that.”

“Because you said you would, you stupid asshole!”

Aaron could feel his own heart accelerating now, beating hard and fast against his ribs.  He had been in enough situations like this, could sense the tension and the buildup of action even without being in the room.  Petey must have felt it too because Aaron could feel a muscle in his thigh twitching where it was pressed against Aaron's.

“Relax,” Aaron breathed, but he wasn't sure whether he was talking to Petey or himself. 

A board creaked loudly inside, a boot came down hard on the hardwood.  “Well, I was lying.  If you're surprised then I suppose the only thing I can say to you is that you should never have trusted me in the first place.”

Aaron was almost certain that those would be the last words Kyle would ever say.  He was expecting to hear a gun go off, for Dan to let his anger loose, but instead there was silence.  Then Dan let out a low whistle and when he spoke, Aaron could almost hear an echo of the man he used to be, back when he and Kyle were young and Dan was surly and an asshole and always dependably, reliably there.

“Damn kid, you've really done it now, haven't you?”

Kyle made a small, annoyed noise in his throat.  “Done what?”

“You've lost it, you really don't care anymore do you?”

“Care?  About what?”

“About your life!  You're reckless and stupid and so willing to throw away the one thing that's been given to you.”

Kyle made that same noise again, this time accompanied with another squeak of floorboards.  “Please.  I'm not suicidal, you're just a coward.  I've done things in the past two years that you haven't managed to do in twenty, I've met people and seen things that you couldn't even imagine.  You're an old, dried up idiot and I'm—”

“A child.”

For a long moment, there was silence.  Then Dan continued.  “You, despite everything that you've learned, everything that Aaron's taught you, are a stubborn, reckless child who doesn't know his limits.  The way you're going, you won't live to see the other side of 30.”

Petey was up faster than Aaron had anticipated.  He had pulled a gun from the back of his jeans and had pointed it through the window.  Aaron had one disorienting moment to wonder where the hell he had gotten that gun before shattered glass rained down on his head as the first shot rang out.  He heard shouting from inside, more gunshots, and Aaron blindly grabbed onto Petey's shirt to haul him back down.  He went quickly, faster than Aaron anticipated, and he realized why when he got a closer look at him.  There was blood spreading across the front of Petey's shirt.  His eyes fluttered once and then closed and he didn't move.



Aaron allowed himself one moment to gather himself because he could still hear movement inside the house.  He searched the pockets of Petey's jeans, pulling out his cellphone and flipping it open.  He dialed the number quickly, looking over his shoulder at the house and the sounds he could still hear inside.

Aaron wiped the phone down and dropped it to the ground just as the front door of the house opened and Kyle exited, looking remarkably unruffled.  Aaron watched him draw nearer, aware that there was a gun beside his foot, easily within distance.  Equally aware of the gun in Kyle's hand.

Kyle came to a halt on the other side of Petey's body.  He looked down at him, unrepentant, uncaring. 

Aaron's eyes traced the outline of Petey's face, the softened jawline and long eyelashes.  “He was young.”

He glanced up in time to see Kyle's face harden, a twist of displeasure marring his previously neutral features.  “And now he'll stay that way.”

Aaron let the moment stretch out, but the clock was ticking.  They'd be here soon.  “Where's Dan?”

“Dead,” said Kyle.  “Or just injured.  Either way, I suppose I owe your friend a fruit basket.”

“But instead you gave him a bullet to the chest.”

Kyle shrugged.  “Well, shoot first ask questions later.  Who was the one who taught me that, I wonder?”

Aaron shifted his weight closer to the gun.  It was hardly a fraction, a tiny movement, but he could practically feel Kyle's reaction.  His eyes hardened, the hand on his gun tightened and his eyes flicked over Aaron's face, watching his expression.

“So what now?” Aaron asked.

“Depends.  Are you going to do something—”

But Aaron had already reached down, pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand and grabbed the gun, aiming it at Kyle.

“Stupid,” Kyle muttered, raising his own gun just as quickly.

“You going to shoot me, Kyle?” Aaron asked.  “After everything I've done for you?  After everything you've done to me?”

“You were going to kill me.”

“I'd be doing the world a service.”

Kyle laughed, his shoulders twitching up.  “I think I'm flattered.”  He sauntered a step closer and Aaron widened his stance, kept his gun trained on Kyle.  Kyle, for his part, didn't lower his gun either.  He took another step closer.

“What're you doing?” Aaron asked.

Kyle didn't answer, but Aaron hadn't really expected him to.  Kyle stopped when the barrel of Aaron's gun brushed his chest.  He looked down at Aaron's hand, the cloth covering his fingers.  He smiled.

“You scared?” he asked.  He lowered his own gun to his side, put his hand on Aaron's wrist to lower his arm as well and shift in closer.  “Scared of going back to the cage?”

Aaron thought he heard a distant whistle, a shrill whine.  Kyle stepped in closer, looked up at Aaron with huge, bright eyes.  His neck craned up and he planted his lips against Aaron's. 

Aaron startled, made to jerk away, but Kyle's hand was already at the back of his neck, keeping him in place.  Aaron breathed out hard through his nose, felt the responding twitch of Kyle's lips as they twisted into a smile.

Kyle pressed closer, running his tongue along the seam of Aaron's lips.  Aaron kept still, not participating as he heard that whining grow steadily louder, the clock ticking down.  When Kyle finally bit at Aaron’s lower lip, he opened his mouth, tongue surging against Kyle’s, hand gripping into Kyle’s hair and pulling him closer.



Kyle sighed, heavy and deep, wedging himself against Aaron’s front, the gun dropping from his hand.  Eventually, when Aaron could practically feel them getting closer, he pushed Kyle away.  Kyle licked his lips, eyes dark.

“What?” he asked.

Aaron didn’t immediately answer, waiting.  Then he tossed the gun in his hand to Kyle—“think fast,”—who caught it immediately.

Kyle gave him a look betraying his confusion.  But then they heard the sirens.  Kyle’s eyes flicked behind Aaron, toward the road, mouth tightening.  He looked down at the gun in his hand and then back at Aaron, who couldn’t suppress his grin.

“Enjoy the cage,” he said, and then he started running.  He ran straight into the woods, dodging the sudden array of bullets that Kyle was aiming at his back.  But the sirens were clear as day now, the cops obviously at the house.

Aaron was still running when the gun stopped firing, could hear the distant shout of someone saying, “Lower your weapon!  Hands behind your head, get on the ground, now!”

He slowed to a walk, smile growing larger.  Two dead bodies and a smoking gun with Kyle’s prints on it.  It wasn’t quite as good as a bullet to the head, but it was something.  It was payback.  And Kyle might have been a smart talker, a cocky son of a bitch, but nothing would get him out of this one.

Aaron pushed through the trees and headed back toward the road.  He ducked out of sight as the cop car shot past, catching just the barest glimpse of a blonde-haired someone sitting in the backseat.  He grinned to himself, sticking to the woods until he considered himself a far enough distance from Dan’s boathouse.  As he walked, he heard more sirens, mostly cops but an ambulance as well.  Maybe Dan was still kicking.

Eventually, he walked back to the road and stuck out his hand, thumb up.  A few cars passed by without stopping, and then finally a huge truck with an older guy in the front seat pulled over.

“Where you headed, son?” he asked, pulling his baseball cap lower over his head.

Aaron climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door closed behind him.  “Wherever.”

The guy pulled away from the curb and back onto the road, glancing over his shoulder.  “Well I’m heading to the city, that sound good?”

The city.  Aaron remembered again what he had told Kyle so long ago, about getting lost in the big city.  It was safer there.  That’s where his own people were; lurking in the shadows, at the seedy bars.  The city, any city, he could do that.  With Kyle soon behind bars, Aaron had a while before he had to worry about retribution.  Years of safety, and when Kyle got out, Aaron would be ready.  He wouldn’t hesitate again; he would kill the bastard before Kyle could kill him.

The guy was driving, still waiting for Aaron’s answer.  Aaron glanced at him, letting himself just barely smile.  “The city sounds perfect.”