Fifteen: Aftershock

Come on, Seth, get your shit together.

It wasn't like him to lose control like this. But she'd been pretty outrageous in her little attempt at an escape. Worst part was, he didn't know which she he was more pissed at.

Augusta had calmed down pretty fast, when she realized there was just no use fighting against Seth. She'd gone into total shut-down mode for the rest of the drive, and Seth was too exhausted to care. He just sat in the corner of the car, staring out the window, occasionally at her for long moments, then out the window again when she didn't look back.

It was worry he saw on her face. Deep creases of it. She was scared, finally, after all this time. She was scared for Xanny.

Xanny, for her part, had been pretty quiet in the trunk. He'd half-expected pounding, and had been alarmed when Ritchie wound up dragging her inside, still a dead sack of potatoes. Then, just to be safe, Ritchie had tied Xanny to a chair, once both of them were sure that she was still alive.

Augusta had wanted to stay with her. Seth made her sit in the other room. The worry increased, and now, she did shoot furtive glances at him, distrustful, angry glances. If she had been Xanny, he would have known for sure she was plotting something. But what a sheltered little girl like Augusta could possibly do to him, he didn't bother to worry about it.

He went into the other room to take a shower, clean off the mud and dirt from that ravine. Ritchie had an extra wife-beater in the car, but the vest and coat had to be cleaned off. What had taken the worst damage were his pants---big ugly marks on the knees from where he'd gone sliding down the hill. Ritchie offered to take care of it, began filling the sink with sudsy water. Seth got out the biggest of the stains on his jacket and vest, left them up to dry, and went to bathe.

When he came out, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, he noticed that Xanny was awake. And clear-eyed.

He stalked through the room, unable to not look at her. She watched him, too, apprehensive. After all, she was tied to a chair, and had a right to be a bit nervous about it. But neither of them said a word.

He went into the other room, shut the door behind him. Augusta and Ritchie were watching TV. Augusta looked like she had recovered herself somewhat. She tensed, though, when Seth approached.

"Got that shirt?"

Ritchie handed it to him. "I'll take your pants over to the dryer," Ritchie said. "I was just waiting for you to come out."

"Fine," Seth said, pulling on the shirt. He sat down on the small couch, and said, "I'll be here."

Ritchie left.

%%%%%%%%%%

When Seth came into the room, it was hard not to notice him. After all, he was only wearing a towel. His fire tattoo, blazing black down his arm, up along his shoulder, creeping up his neck, rippled as he moved.

Augusta was sure she was losing her mind.

Ritchie threw him a little white tank, which he put on. Then Ritchie left. Augusta wasn't paying attention to anything they were saying---it was like she had stopped hearing everything since the motorcycle had crashed. She wondered if her ears were damaged, and decided to test it out.

As Seth sat down on the couch, she called his name.

"Yeah?" Good, she could hear. The roaring went away. Carefully, she got up and went to sit beside him. He looked at her, a threatening sort of look, cold and clearly warning her not to get too close. Maybe the kind of look he would give someone who wanted to fight him in a bar.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"About what?"

"All of this." She leaned a little closer, felt him tense. Another inch and he would actually reach out to push her away. "What are you going to do with us?"

"I'm thinking."

She nodded, wondered if she should push her luck. "Is there...anything...I can do?"

His eyes narrowed a little bit more. "Like what? Try to escape again?"

"I'm sorry about that..."

"Bullshit," he said, his voice low and even.

"No, I really wasn't thinking. I just got caught up in the moment." She gave him a coy look. "You know how that happens to me."

"Yeah, I guess so." He looked away, toward the television.

"Seth," she said, her voice just a touch louder.

"What?" Annoyed now. He didn't buy a single word she was saying. It was time to drop the act. She let out her breath, and when she moved this time, it wasn't with the slow, seductive hesitancy, it was with a certain assertiveness that didn't allow him to shove her away.

"I'm serious. What's going to happen next? What are you going to do with Xanny?"

"You heard me before. Twenty million, ten for you, ten for her."

"Well...don't you think we should call Marcos then?"

"We will. After I talk to Xanny."

Augusta hesitated. "You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"

"Why do you care so much?" Seth asked, finally looking at her with something other than cool distrust.

"She's my sister."

"A sister you've known for how long? A few hours?"

"A day," Augusta corrected. Seth arched an eyebrow. "Yes," she sighed, knowing coming clean was the only way to regain his favor. "When we were in the restaurant, she was in one of the stalls. That's what you heard, when you asked me if everything was okay. There was no rat."

"Yes there was." His voice was black, dangerous.

"Seth, don't hurt her, please. She was just...she was just trying to help me. She was just trying to protect me."

Seth snorted. "You think she gives a flying fuck about you? You're money to her."

Augusta pulled back as if he'd slapped her, but he didn't stop.

"Don't think that because you two shared a secret for a half a day, and then took a joyride together, that you've got some big camaraderie thing going on now. You don't know shit about Xanny."

"You don't seem to, either," Augusta dared, letting a bit of anger slide through. It was a mistake. He wasn't in the mood for her temper. He leaned a little toward her, his eyes pinning her in place.

"I know her a fuck lot better than you do," he hissed in her face. She could smell his breath---he hadn't eaten or brushed his teeth in a while. It wasn't so bad, but it was hot and intense.

"Still," Augusta said, pleading again, "don't hurt her. You don't understand...my whole life, my parents were looking for her, and now that we've found her, I can't let anything happen to her."

"I'd be more worried about you than her, sugar," he said, backing away.

She leaned into him, her fingertips grazing the towel around his waist. "Seth, I'm not afraid of you. You were the one who was talking to me about running away to Mexico---"

"Stupid dreams. You said so yourself."

"I never said they were stupid." She sighed. "I'm not asking you to let her go. But you're so angry, so tense. You're going to hurt her whether you mean to or not. Let me help you."

His eyes snapped back to her, suspicious. "What are you talking about?"

She gave him a little suggestive half-smile. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

She slid to her knees. She was practically between his. "I'll even swallow if you want."

His face softened, and he looked, for just a second, as if he actually were considering her suggestion. Then, he laughed, a short, quick bark.

"You are fucking crazy," he said, pulling away, his hand going to where the towel was knotted, as if to keep it on, even though it was in little danger of coming off. "Have you forgotten about Ritchie? You want him to walk in on you giving me a blow job?" He laughed again. "Besides, how do I know you won't bite it off?"

She tried to look hurt, but at that moment the door opened and Ritchie came back in. He stopped as he closed the door behind him, looked at the two of them, obviously surprised.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked in his soft voice.

Seth got up, pushing Augusta aside. "Not a thing, brother," he said with a little grin. He went into the next room, closing the door behind him. Augusta crawled back onto the couch, her face flushed dark red.

Ritchie looked at her, and she could tell he was amused. He crossed the room, went back to his chair and resumed watching television. At least, that's where his eyes were.

"That wasn't a good idea," he said.

"What wasn't?" she asked, cringing.

"Trying to manipulate Seth. Especially with sex. Never works."

"I wasn't trying---"

Ritchie cut her off with a glance. She snapped her mouth shut.

"How do you know?"

Ritchie chuckled. "Come on. You think Xanny never tried it? If she couldn't get away with it, nobody could."

"You know, it makes me a little uneasy, how much you know about your brother's private life."

Ritchie just shrugged. "When you live in such close quarters, you can't really help it."

"I don't understand the two of them," Augusta muttered.

"Neither do I. If you want my two cents, I'm rooting for you."

Augusta felt a jolt of surprise, then felt like melting between the couch cushions in humiliation.

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Xanny watched as Seth came back into the room, the towel still around his waist, but his wife-beater back in place. She wondered, briefly, why they called those shirts wife-beaters, then realized as he approached her that she might be just about to find out.

"You know, I don't think you've ever given me the silent treatment before," she said.

"What the fuck were you thinking before?" he asked, ignoring her opening.

"When I tried to run away? What do you think? You just threatened to take me hostage, too! You think I'm going to just say, 'oh, okay, I'll just have a seat and wait this one out.' No, Seth, sorry, you really should have fucking known better than to make a threat like that toward me."

"If it had just been you, it would have been one thing, but Augusta---"

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I tried to steal your hostage," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, Seth, she's my sister. You'd do the same thing for Ritchie without even blinking."

"You and Augusta are not me and Ritchie."

Xanny looked at him steadily. "You don't know anything about Augusta and me."

"I know more than she knows about you. Does she know about your criminal record? Does she know all your dirty little secrets and not judge you on them anyway? I'll bet if she knew about the job we pulled in Texas on your twenty-second birthday, she'd---"

"SHUT UP!" It wasn't a shout, but it was loud and firm enough to echo off the walls of the room.

"Touchy, aren't we?" He leaned closer to her, his hands resting on either side of the arms of the chair. "You think you can just walk away from this life and never have it come back on you? It doesn't work that way."

"I never said it did."

"So you think if you rescue your long-lost twin, you'll be welcomed into that rich family with open arms, get your share of a fortune, get to live however you want."

"You think this is a job?" she said, almost laughing. "How small of you, Seth Gecko. I really had you pegged for being able to think bigger."

"What, redemption, then?" he asked scornfully. "Don't make me laugh."

She shrugged. "I was never particularly good at that, don't worry." She sighed, looked down. "Don't you think tying me up is a little extreme? I mean, what if someone comes in here? Like your friends back in that hotel room, the one you had to run from."

"I'm not untying you," he said flatly. "I don't trust you."

"And you trust Augusta?"

"She isn't you."

Xanny stared at him, considering. "Why did you sleep with her?" she asked suddenly, throwing him off balance.

"What, playing jealous ex-girlfriend now? It's none of your business."

"It's all my business, since I'm the reason you kidnapped her in the first place. Were you already sure she wasn't me when you slept with her?"

He didn't answer. He looked away, his cheek twitching up into his eye. A sure sign of discomfort.

"You already did, didn't you?" Xanny was almost smiling. "My God...Seth, I really am surprised at you. You like her."

"That's not a crime."

"You tie me up, but she gets to run around free. You must think she likes you back, deep down."

"Doesn't matter."

"Oh, it matters," she said, raising her voice as he turned away. "It matters a whole fucking lot."

"Do not try and tell me you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I'm amazed. And I'm also wondering how in the hell you think this is going to turn out. You have to know it's never going to work."

He looked back at her over his shoulder, appearing mildly wounded.

"Seth," Xanny sighed, "at least untie me around the waist so I can breathe, okay? You can leave my hands and feet."

He considered, then stepped forward, reached for the duct tape and pulled some of it loose. She felt her chest expand slightly.

"Thank God," she breathed.

"No, thank me," Seth said.

Xanny smiled up at him, casually. "I would never have thought you'd go romantic, Seth. Really. I'm actually proud of you. Now, if you want to get in touch with Marcos, and arrange our ransom, you need to get into the coat pocket of my leather jacket. His cel-phone is speed dial number one. And you're going to have to give him at least 24 hours to get the money, he may be a billionaire, but he's still a human being, okay?"

%%%%%%%%%%

"Holy shit."

Marcos looked over the edge of the ravine. The tow trucks were already pulling out the broken cycle. Carl was talking to a half a dozen people at once, trying to figure out what had happened. Apparently, Xanny's plan to go talk to Seth had gone totally haywire, and wherever she was, she was without transportation.

Just then, his cel-phone rang. Marcos pulled it out. "Hello?"

"Hello, Marcos."

Marcos had once heard the expression about blood running cold. He'd never understood it until that moment. "Mr. Gecko?"

"Seth will do fine," Seth said. "I have a few people here I'm sure you'd like back. I want ten million each for them, that's twenty total. Where are you right now?"

Marcos considered lying, considering motioning to a police officer. But the thought of both Augusta and Xanny being held captive by the Geckos was enough to throw him off. He went with the truth. "At the ravine where you tossed Xanny's bike. Surrounded by cops."

"Hm." A pause. "Well, I'll call you back in two hours. Until then, you have twenty-four hours to get the money together. When I call you back I'll have a drop point ready. If you want to see these twin girls alive again, Mr. Ferarre, I suggest you get your ass in gear." And he hung up.

a/n: Thanks a1iciaxoxo! Good to know you're keeping up. And don't worry about the ending...I don't end a story until it's really over, and always give it the ending it really needs.