Believe it or not I have another chapter ready to go up after this one, so if I get a lot of reviews I might post it a little later this afternoon :)

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Legal stuff still counts...


Chapter 29: Pushing The Limits

The look on Jordan's face was unforgettable. Macks had to admit, Jones was playing this one out pretty damn good. He had the man pissing his pants and cowering in the corner. He couldn't have asked for a better way to brighten his dreary day. After spending half the day behind the wheel he needed something to brighten his spirits and this was doing just that. "Jordan, get the fuck up off the floor." Macks had to put his own self into that statement, he couldn't resist, but he managed to keep his voice quiet; it seemed to have a better effect on people that way, with the gravely texture it held and the mean sound that already accompanied it, the quiet level seemed to magnify the threat it held.

Jordan looked confused, and obviously the piss had been scared right out of him. "Who the hell are you?" He asked with a squeak to his words. A heavy wheezing seemed to take over, as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "What do you want? Who sent you?" He pulled back until his back was pressed into the wall, but he didn't make a move to drag his sorry ass to his feet.

"Who do you think sent me?" Jones' voice, though still quiet, seemed to soften slightly and lose part of the hoarseness to it.

"Look, I didn't do anything to that kid. I don't care what the Mercers told you, I didn't…" Jordan started to spit the words out in broken sobs.

Jones laughed, causing the man to quiet, "Who the fuck you think you're talking to Jordan?" He shook his head and pulled up from the bed, turning to face the sniveling coward. "You fucked him good. You made him suck on you until you couldn't hold it anymore, and then threw him on the floor and shoved up into him hard enough to rip and tear pieces of him away, I watched you do it. You ain't got no fucking balls at all do you, you spineless pig?" His voice picked up strength as Macks decided to take control of the situation; it would be much more fun that way. Jones had a way of fucking too many things up. "You could at least admit just what the fuck you are. You hide from it, and you're ashamed of it, and you have cheated yourself most of your life because of that."

"M-M-Macks," Jordan stuttered out what was meant to be a question, and it sounded so fucking pathetic that Macks had to laugh.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Jordan?" Macks managed to get the words out after he'd laughed enough to release the amusement the man was causing him. "You worried I'm gonna put a fucking bullet in your head for spilling your guts to the cops?" He did pull his gun out of his coat pocket; what the hell, it seemed like a good lead in to introduce his weapon to the man.

"I didn't tell the cops shit." Jordan's voice squeaked again.

"I told you to get your ass up off the fucking floor. Don't make me tell you that again." Macks waved the gun around a little, but it was just for show. Hell, it was fun seeing just how scared the man in front of him truly was.

A foul odor started to fill the air, and Macks nearly gagged. "Good God, what the hell, did you just shit yourself Jordan?" He cried out and did his best not to breathe in too deeply. "Shit, go clean yourself up and meet me in the kitchen. I ain't gonna fucking shoot you, at least not yet, I need your ass." He turned and walked out as quickly as he could, heading to the kitchen. "I need some fucking food, where is your food? Your cupboards are practically bare." He didn't wait for an answer, he kept walking.

He started going through the refrigerator, and found some hamburger that had an odd color to it and some eggs. He opened the hamburger and took a whiff of it to be sure it was good. He tossed it to the counter and the found the pans after checking several doors. He was sure he heard the shower running just as he started the hamburger to frying.

Hell, he wasn't worried about Jordan making any kind of run for it, it's not like he would get far with that fucking device strapped around his ankle. He was more worried about the idiot having a heart attack the way he was acting, pissing and shitting himself. He needed him though; he needed a place to stay, a roof over his head, and someone to do what the fuck he was told. He could put Jordan to work making some phone calls, not that the man would be too thrilled with the calls he was going to be making, but he'd get over it. If he behaved, he might even let him live to experience his first fuck in prison. He had a real treat coming to him, being someone else's bitch.

Maybe Macks would even take pity on him and show him how a good bitch acts, teach him a few of the tricks that he learned when he was behind the bars, Jordan might manage to survive if he knew what the fuck to do. Some of those tricks he was planning on teaching his son, when he finally had him back with him, where he belonged. He smiled at the thought. He would have his son back within the next two days, and he'd make sure this time that no one came to steal him away.

He was tired of his property being ripped out of his hands. He was going to take out the Mercers, one by one, or all at once, it didn't matter. They were going to die. He'd heard they liked to play with gasoline, and fire. He laughed as the wheels of his mind started turning. He liked the idea that was forming. It was the answer he'd been wracking his brains to come up with most of the drive back to Detroit; how to take the Mercers out of the picture so they couldn't come after the kid once Macks or Jones had his hands on him.

Jordan stumbled into the kitchen a few minutes before the hamburgers and eggs were done. He still looked terrified, his eyes wide, and his mouth hanging half open. He looked as if he were looking at ghost, or a monster. He kept his distance from the stranger cooking at his stove, and slid down the counter near the sink. "Who are you, really?" He asked.

Macks drew in a deep breath and turned and looked at the coward by the sink. "Do we really need to do this again?" He asked.

Jordan looked as if he were about to lose his bladder again, his mouth opened and moved as if he were talking, but no sound came out.

"Okay, let's properly introduce you to the new me." Macks smiled and held a hand out, letting Jones' voice take over, the softer pitch level tone did seemed to take on a whole new personality that was more inviting to people. "The name is Jeff Jones." He let a friendly smile slide over his mouth and his eyes seemed to change from cold to warm in an instant.

Jordan stared at him as if he had lost his mind, but he held his hand out to accept the handshake that was being offered. "How the hell did you manage this?"

"Don't worry about how, just worry about telling me the fucking truth about a few things while we eat." Jones stuck around to make the comment. "Have a seat Bradley. I know you've been under a lot of stress. You need to relax and eat, and we can work out the details of how both of us are going to get out of this little mess the Mercers have brought down on us." He smiled again before turning back to the stove. "We need to get some more food."

Jordan slowly stepped over to the table and sat down. He seemed to be taking it all in. He was slow, but damn, once he got it, he really did get it. Jones laughed at the thought. "Where is the bread?" He asked while he grabbed a clean plate from the drainer and started dishing the fried hamburgers and eggs out onto it.

"I, I'm out of bread." Jordan spoke quietly, almost sounding as if this wasn't the conversation he'd been expecting.

"Well, we'll just have to eat these with forks then. I can't wait, I'm hungry." Jones turned to the table and set the plate down. "I'll have to go to the store later and stock up on what we're gonna need. You haven't got any beer?" He asked.

Jordan shook his head while he watched the man walk to cabinet and get out some plates, the reach for the drawer containing the silverware.

"No beer, well, that's okay, I'll stop and pick up some whiskey when I go out." Jones sat down and handed Jordan his plate and fork. "Well come on, dig in. You need to keep your strength up Brad. Good grief, you look like you've lost a good twenty pounds." Jones laughed as he pulled two eggs and one of the burgers to his plate. "I heard that your wife left you, took the little kiddies and just up and abandoned you in your most desperate hour." He shook his head. "Damn bitch. We should choke the fucking life out of her. What do you think?" He looked at Jordan with the most sincere expression any man could wear. "I can do that for you. You know that? I have no problems killing her if you want me to. Of course that means your little girls will have no mommy. I guess I'd have to do away with them too. I mean, I'd hate to put those precious little souls through the hell of losing their mommy."

Jordan looked intrigued by the offer until Jones mentioned his daughters. Hell, Jones knew the man would have taken him up on the offer, if he hadn't included the sweet, innocent daughters. The sorry shit really did love them. He truly wished he hadn't had to add the part about the girls, but Macks was in there, pushing him to make it good, and he knew if he didn't make Macks happy, the man would just come out and take over again. As good as Macks' intentions, he just wasn't all that good with people, not like Jones.

"You can't hurt my daughters, they haven't done anything wrong." Jordan cried out. "Please, don't hurt them. I'll do whatever you tell me to, but please, you can't hurt them." There were actually tears in the man's eyes. "Kill me, you have every right to kill me, I told the cops everything. I thought you were dead, I didn't know you were alive." He started rambling on about how he was in a load of shit right then, no family to back him up, his daughters had been taken from him, his own parents considered him dead. His rambling turned into sobbing, as if the person on the opposite side of the table really cared.

Jones sat back in his chair and ate his food while Jordan unloaded, and cried and complained about the situation Macks had gotten him into. When it seemed the man was finally finished, Jones swallowed the food that was in his mouth and put down his fork. "Do you feel better?" He asked.

Jordan dropped his face into his hands. "Oh God, I don't know what to do." His body seemed to be wracked with sobs.

"Pull your shit together Brad, my boy. I'll make sure it's all good." Jones grinned. "I only need for you to make sure no one finds out I'm here, and I need to you to do a few things for me. As long as you do what you're told, your sweet little girls will be just fine. Now eat your food before it gets cold."

Jordan let his hands fall and looked across the table at the man, almost as if the words that had been spoken had been lost on him. He did nod his head, a sign perhaps that Jones' words had penetrated the emotions. He picked up his fork and took a small bite of the eggs.

"No more fucking lying Brad. I know you talked to the cops. It's alright; I understand you thought I was dead. You wouldn't have a said anything if you'd known I was alive, I get that. But don't lie to me. Don't piss me off by telling me tall tales and untruths." Jones smiled as he took another bite of his burger. "Now, the first thing we need to do is give good old Jessup a call. I need to let him know I'm back, and I'm in control."


Craig sat on the couch, staring down at the melting ice cream and chocolate syrup, stirring the swirls around while he waited for Bobby to come back in. He hadn't wasted any time slipping the charcoal pencil in his shirt. He wasn't sure how he was going to manage to get some paper, and even more challenging was having the chance to draw without getting caught. He wasn't even sure what it was that he felt he needed to draw; he only knew that he didn't want to have to talk about anything he drew, no matter what it might be. He should be able to have some things that were his and only his; thoughts and memories that he didn't have to share.

Bobby walked back in after several minutes, his hands empty. Craig wasn't sure where in the kitchen his brother had hidden his pad, but he couldn't help but think that if he had a chance he could probably find it. There weren't too many places in the kitchen that it could be stashed.

Bobby stopped on the other side of the coffee table, just as he had before, and looked down at the boy. Craig could feel his stare. He didn't look up or say anything. He was sure if he opened his mouth he would say something that he would regret.

Bobby had told him that he didn't want to hear anything from him if he was going to give him an attitude, and though he knew he shouldn't feel the urge to mouth off, it was there, and he wanted more than anything to unload on his brother. He was being unfair, and he wasn't helping matters at all. Just standing over him, looking down on him was making it worse.

"Are you going to eat that ice cream or not?" Bobby asked the question casually.

Craig knew he needed to answer his brother, he knew he needed to give the bowl up to him and let him take it away. He chose instead to sit on the couch and continue to stir around what was quickly becoming a mess in the bowl and pretend he hadn't heard Bobby speak.

Bobby gave him a few moments before walking around the table and reaching for the bowl. He took it out of Craig's hands and set it on the table. Craig felt his insides freeze as Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "The silent treatment counts as an attitude Craig. I don't want to hear the smart remarks, but when I ask you a question I expect an answer." He pulled him into the dining room, grabbed a chair and pulled it from the table. He set the chair in the corner next to the doorway, facing the small area where the two walls met. "You just got what Jerry calls a time out." He kept his voice even, though it sounded slightly strained. "He said this is what he does with the girls. They get five or ten minutes. I figure you're older, you get a fucking hour. You don't move from that spot or say a word. You move or make a sound and I'm adding time to it. You got that?" He pulled Craig to the chair and dropped him down into it.

"I'm not five years old; you can't give me a 'time out'." Craig couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and he really didn't care. He started to stand as soon as Bobby let go of him.

"You don' think so? You're acting like a five year old Craig. I ain't gonna put up with it. You keep your ass on that chair." Bobby didn't give him the chance to get all the way onto his feet. His hands planted on the boy's shoulders and pushed him back down. "Don't get back up Craig. I don't want to be an ass with you, but I ain't gonna let you turn the shit that's bugging you into being pissed off and then hide from it. It ain't gonna happen." Bobby's voice was nowhere near as calm as it had been just minutes before. "You want to talk about what's bugging you? I'm willing to listen to that. If not, then you are sitting your ass right there and keeping quiet. Got that?"

"This is stupid. You're fucking stupid." Craig muttered, not able to stop the words before they were out, though he knew they sounded more like something a five year old would say. He was being treated like a five year old though, being put in a corner. He didn't mean the words, but at the same time he was feeling more pissed at Bobby now than ever. "I hate you. You've got no right treating me like a little kid. You can't tell me what I can or can't do." He tried once more to stand, but this time Bobby didn't push him back down into the chair like he was expecting him to. What came next was exactly what he had gotten from Evelyn Mercer the one time he'd talk to her out of line and tested her limits.