But a fresh wave of devastation crashed over James's face, and Tom stepped forward,
"James…"
The bedroom door splintered open.
"Hands up! Hands up!"
Masked gunmen ran in, assault rifles pointed at both Tom and James. What the hell? Awareness took its slow time coming as Tom stared. James didn't move, so Tom figured they were his men.
Until one of the five men stepped forward and pressed his gun to James's temple,
"Put your hands up."
He spat in a distinctive Brooklyn accent,
"That repeat was a courtesy, and your only warning. Next time, I'm squeezing the trigger."
James lunged, grabbing the speaker by the throat.
The unmistakable pressure at the base of Tom's skull pissed him off, but he held himself still, hands spread wide as he waited. This is what happened when you let your thirst guide your actions. You let your guard down, and strangers just walked right on in.
"Calm the hell down, Evans."
The man behind Tom said,
"Something tells me you want to be the one to do the honours with this one."
He thumped Tom with the gun,
"Let him go, and step back. Nice and very slow."
Tom didn't think he would, but James dropped his hand, face impassive as he faced the rest of the intruders.
"Good grip there, B."
The one with the gun on James addressed him,
"Impressive."
"What is this?"
James finally growled,
"Do you know what you've done?"
"We're just here for the vampire."
Tom cocked his head,
"Wait, you're here to kidnap me from my kidnapper?"
Was this really happening? The man behind him chuckled,
"Nah. We're your rescuers. You're welcome."
"What…"
James stepped forward, a hand outstretched.
Pop. Pop.
James flinched, staggered then crumpled to the floor. It all happened so slow that he could hardly believe it.
"No."
Tom dropped to his knees. James watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, not saying anything as blood soaked the front of his shirt,
"No."
This couldn't be happening. James couldn't die. Tom jerked his head up,
"Help him."
He demanded.
"Relax."
One of the masked men yanked him upright,
"He'll be fine. He's been through worse and managed to escape death."
The rest of the men chuckled.
Tom punched the one holding him in the throat and made a grab for the gun when the other man staggered.
Someone else sidled closer and stuck a gun in Tom's ribs,
"Touch him again, and I'm going to forget this is a rescue mission. Do you understand me?"
"JP, cool it."
"I'm tired of being threatened. And death doesn't scare me."
Tom met each pair of eyes, the only features he could make out under the balaclavas,
"So, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Hmm. He really is as annoying as they say."
"Somebody patch Evans up, so we can ghost this joint."
"I'm staying,"
Tom said.
"The hell you are."
Two of the five men flanked him,
"Start walking."
"James…"
"Evans kidnapped and tortured you, and you're worried about him?"
The one who'd pointed the gun at James snickered,
"Must be something about his handsome face."
Tom ignored that,
"Who hired you to find me?"
He doubted his people was behind this.
"You'll find out soon enough, just keep walking."
He hated this entire situation. And he should be eager to get the hell out of there. But James was bleeding out on the floor and Tom wanted to go to him,
"Please tell me you brought me clothes."
He tugged on the t-shirt he wore,
"I'm sick of bloody t-shirt and sweats."
"Somebody get him some clothes so he can shut the hell up."
A bag was shoved into his hands, and Tom got dressed right there, putting on the dark suit and matching shoes that fit perfectly while men pointed their guns at him. When they finished bandaging a silent James and handcuffed him to the foot of the bed, Tom approached him.
And he got on his knees for his captor,
"So, Round two?"
"How?"
James asked, and Tom knew he was asking about what just happened. If Tom was behind the rescue.
He ignored the question, and touched James instead, swiping a thumb over his cheek, over some of those pained lines then down to his lips,
"I've never felt so alive, do you know that? This time with you I've never felt so many things."
James watched him closely.
Tom traced James's top lip gently. Then the bottom,
"You're crazy and I can't get enough of that"
"Just tell me how?"
James inquired roughly. He chuckled and James's gaze dropped to Tom's lips.
"Maybe it will go away,"
Tom said softly,
"What you feel. When I'm gone, it will go away."
He dropped his hand and stood,
"I want it to go away."
For James's sake. But what Tom felt, it wouldn't go away. He already knew and accepted it. So, he gave James Evans his back, and he walked away.
To the door.
Hand on the knob, and he stopped. Leaned against the door. Walking away from the man who'd held him captive shouldn't be this hard. Walking away from James shouldn't be this hard.
"Round two,"
James said from behind him,
"I look forward to it."
Tom smiled. He didn't look back, but he held up two fingers, the universal sign for peace.
And a signal for the number of rounds they were up to now.
Then he went through the door.
"Let's get out."
They did. Out the front door. Sunlight hit his face as they exited the building, blinding his vision.
Dizzying him.
He stumbled, and someone grabbed his shoulder,
"Where are we?"
"Brooklyn."
He looked back at the house he'd just left. A detached brownstone. He knew he'd been back in the States, but James had kept him in Brooklyn this entire time?
His knees gave out.
Oh hell…
He was unconscious before he hit the ground.