Brady's car smelt brand new. Ste guessed it had been rented, but had no clue how a man who was supposed to be a wanted criminal had been able to do that and cross seas and borders as Brady must have done. Maybe he just wasn't as wanted as Ste would have liked to believe. After all, he wasn't wanted for murder. It wasn't even for rape.
Brady drove like a model citizen too. Ste guessed that was one reason he'd never been caught. He'd never had to interact with a policeman. Driving with a phone to his ear had been a big risk for him, but luck had been on Brady's side, and now they just looked like two men driving.
"Why are you doing this?" Ste asked, voice no louder than a whisper.
Brady grunted at the question, but didn't answer.
"He's your Grandson! Why are you hurting him like this?"
"I'm not hurting him. What you do, that's hurting him. Confusing him. Making him think it's not disgusting to be queer."
"But it's not disgusting!" Ste protested, "Me and Brendan are in love and happy. There's nothing disgusting about it!"
"It is!" Brady almost shouted, "it's against God and it's disgusting. You disgust me. What you make me want to do disgusts me. It disgusts everybody. But at least I have the decency to be disgusted and to hide it. You, you flaunt it, like it's something to be proud of. I can't let my Grandkids grow up think that. I can't and I won't!"
"But you didn't hide it, did ye? You couldn't and you shouldn't have to!"
"You're going for the beating of your life, boy!"
"And you never hid it from Brendan, did ye? He told me, you used to sleep with the same men!"
Brady laughed derisively "I never slept with them. I fucked them, the threw them out like the disgusting trash that they were."
"But you didn't hide it from him, and this ain't gonna hide it from Paddy."
Brady looked like he was thinking, really thinking about what Ste had said. Ste held his breath. Was there a chance he'd got through to him?
"I can still teach him it's wrong. If that's all that's left I can make sure he doesn't turn out like Brendan."
Ste's disappointment mixed with anger, and his voice showed it. "What you think it's better he turns out like? A sad, pathetic old man, too scared to admit to what he is, and only able to get any by using force?"
Brady's face was a mask of fury, but his hands were glued to the wheel. Ste instantly worried that he'd gone too far. He could have caused an accident with Paddy in the boot, never mind himself in the car.
Brady changed gear. They were going quite fast now on a duel carriage way out of the city. Ste looked at the road ahead.
Brady elbowed him in the face.
His nose got the brunt of the unexpected move, and his hands flew to it to check for bloody. He could feel blood seeping through his aching nostrils.
"Next time I give you a warning, you shut up!" hissed Brady.
Ste didn't answer. He knew no answer was expected. Brady took some opportunities to glare at him, but otherwise they travelled in silence.
"Phone," Brady said suddenly, holding a hand to Ste. Ste handed over Brendan's phone. "And yours?"
"I ain't got it."
Brady glared at him.
"I think I left it in the car," Ste added unnecessarily.
They pulled off the main road, Ste still trying to remember the names of places he saw, but they passed fewer signs, fewer other cars, until they reached a field where Brady parked. Ste had a sudden vision of being made to dig his own shallow grave, before remembering Brady had no weapon. The only leverage Brady had was Paddy, there was no way he could kill Ste. Yet. And he would probably not kill him before he'd succeeded in doing what he always tried to do.
That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
Brady was out of the car before the sound of the engine had died. Ste had a moment of hope when he saw the empty driver's seat, but without the keys he wouldn't get far. He heard the boot opening and almost fell over himself trying to get to Paddy.
Brady had pulled the sore, blinking lad out of the boot and onto the ground before Ste could get there. The old man was keeping a tight hold of the child's arm and pointing at the boot.
"Ste?" Paddy gasped, and looked horrified and hopeful all at once, "where's Dad?"
"Get in there," Brady ordered before Ste could give an answer.
"Let Paddy go and I will," Ste replied quickly.
"No, Ste!" Paddy protested, but it was Brady's next move that shocked Ste to the core. The old man grabbed his grandson's hand and took Padraig's little finger. Then he bent it back as far as it would go. Paddy cried out in pain, though Brady had stopped just short of that nasty cracking sound that would mean a break.
"You have no power here, Steven. I will break a finger for every time you say no. If Paddy here runs out of fingers, I'll just take him and we'll be on our way, just the two of us, like we were before you stuck your oar in, and I promise you, you'll never find either of us."
It was no choice, really, after that. He couldn't put Paddy through that pain or lose him now. But Terry had tried that move with him and Amy before, and again with just him, but Ste knew better than to be scared of him. He didn't need to be. Terry was just a weak, pathetic bully, just like Brady. The likes of them would never win.
With difficulty, Ste clambered into the open boot. Brady felt each of his pickets briefly, clearly searching for Ste's mobile, before slamming the lid closed. It was pitch black in there, and he barely fit, even curled up.
He heard a childlike cry outside the car, and a shouted "That was for calling your Dad. Get in." Ste hit the boot with his fist and shouted "Don't you dare lay a finger on him, you bastard!"
He didn't get a reply, just the sound of a door slamming, followed shortly by another, and then the hum of the car's engine.
AN: Back on a roll. Shouldn't get back to those excesses of a week waits again, hopefully, but keep the reviews coming or I lose the will to live. Though I do enjoy writing angst.
I'm booking my appointment with the therapist as I write. I might even go.