Chapter 4

Someone was angry.

A voice penetrated the darkness with short, harsh bursts of sound. Vin couldn't seem to understand exactly what was being said, but he could easily read the fury beneath. Yep, someone was seriously pissed.

Chris. Chris was pissed.

Vin frowned, fighting to open leaden eyelids. He squinted at a series of wooden beams that eventually resolved into a ceiling. Movement flickered at the edge of his vision, and with some effort he turned his head. Chris was pacing in front of some shelves, occasionally pausing to run his fingers through his hair. Vin watched him stomp back and forth, trying to decipher words that danced like butterflies just out of his reach. And then, gradually, they began to make sense.

"...gonna string the son of a bitch up by his balls and then we'll fucking see who's feeling generous. Stupid shit's nothing but a cowardly bastard who--"

"Chris."

Vin was startled by the pathetically weak croak masquerading as his voice. Chris whipped his head around and staggered, grimacing and grabbing onto a shelf.

Vin lurched upright. "Chris!"

Pain exploded in his chest, sucking all the air from his lungs. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled over, gasping like a fish. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, his whole world the white-hot agony that pulsed with each frantic beat of his heart. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and tipped him backward, guiding him to the hard floor.

Chris materialized over him, his brows drawn together and his mouth a tight, grim line. "Are you crazy, Tanner? What the hell are you trying to do--save Sinclair the trouble by killing yourself?"

Somehow Vin managed to knot his fingers in Chris's tee shirt. "What's wrong...with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Hate to break it to ya, pard, but you're the one collecting bullets."

"Y'know what I mean. Nearly fell." Vin ground out the words between clenched teeth.

"Just got a little dizzy. Sinclair cold-cocked me up in the barn." Chris pulled aside the makeshift bandage on Vin's chest, his scowl deepening. "Damn it, Vin, you're bleeding again."

"Sorry." Vin tried for sarcastic, but his wispy reply just sounded pitiful.

"It's not too bad. Hang on." Chris repositioned the sodden material and pressed it firmly in place.

Vin bit back a moan. "Time?"

"Just shy of 8:30." Chris wiped his bloody hands on his pants and sat back on his heels. "Gonna be a long night, Cowboy."

"Door?"

"Locked, I'm sure. But it doesn't much matter either way." Chris showed his shackled ankle. "I can't get anywhere near those stairs. And don't you even think about it."

"The boys..."

"Expected us to head straight to the ranch when we were done here. They won't be missing us--not before Monday morning."

Vin narrowed his eyes. "Yer just a...ray of sunshine...aren't you?"

"This is serious, Vin. You've already lost too much blood, not to mention the internal damage that bullet has caused. We've got no bandages, no water, if infection starts to set in... "

Vin panned his gaze around the small room, for the first time clear-headed enough to take in their surroundings. He widened his eyes as his heart picked up its beat. "Windows?"

"We're underground, remember? From what I can tell, Sinclair used this room to hide those weapons--I found a spot over in the corner that looks as if a bunch of crates were stacked there. He must have moved them to the barn in anticipation of the deal going down tomorrow."

Vin felt sweat bead his upper lip. The walls suddenly seemed to be shifting closer, the ceiling pressing relentlessly downward. He panted, trying to breathe around the elephant sitting on his chest.

"Vin. Vin!" Chris's voice pierced the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

"Need...air."

Chris bracketed Vin's face between his palms. "There's plenty of air, pard. You just have to slow it down. Look at me! Slow it down."

Vin locked eyes with Chris, a little of the panic receding. He concentrated on filling his lungs with slow, deep breaths and the vise around his chest eased a bit.

"That's good." Chris released him but worry was still written in the lines around his eyes.

"S-sorry. St-st-stupid." Vin shivered, tremors racing down his arms and legs.

"Would you stop apologizing? Hell, this place is enough to make me claustrophobic." Chris frowned. "Shit, your teeth are chattering."

"C-cold in here."

"More like you're going into shock." Chris disappeared from view, returning a moment later with an empty cardboard box. He slipped it under Vin's legs, elevating them.

Vin didn't realize he'd faded out until a tap on his cheek and Chris's gruff voice brought him back. "Don't you check out on me. If I've got to endure this hell hole, the least you can do is stick around and keep me company."

"Not gonna die. Gotta nail...that bastard Sinclair. 'M not about to...to leave Jonah...high 'n dry."

"For God's sake, Vin! Jonah is why we're here in the first place! He led me to Sinclair like a lamb to the slaughter."

"You don't understand."

"Then how about you explain it to me? Because it all looks crystal clear from my end."

Vin turned his face away from Chris's angry gaze, struggling for words that stuck in his throat. When he didn't speak for long moments, Chris heaved a sigh.

"Look, forget it. All that really matters now is--"

"Guys like Sinclair...you never know what's gonna set 'em off. There's no reason...no sense to it. At first...you fight back. You reckon...someone's bound to notice. Do somethin'. Make it stop."

Vin shivered and stared up at the light bulb, wishing he could absorb its heat. "Then after a while...you realize no one wants to see...'n it's never gonna stop. So you learn...to keep yer head down. Become invisible. 'N when you can't do that..." He swallowed, dry throat clicking. "You do whatever you have to...to survive."

"You want to talk about it?" Chris's tone held none of the pity Vin had feared should his friend learn the truth about his childhood.

He grimaced, finally looking at his friend. "God, no."

Chris inclined his head. "You ever change your mind..."

"I'd have to be...three sheets to the wind...to have that conversation, Cowboy."

"That could be arranged."

Vin read the steel beneath the humor and chuffed weakly. "Bet it could."

Before Chris could reply, they heard the rattle of keys in a metal lock and the trap door slowly swung open. Chris stood, placing himself between the door and Vin, but several minutes passed and no one appeared.

"Chris?" Vin propped himself up on his elbows, only to fall back with a low moan.

Chris waved him to silence. "Who is it?" he called in the dangerous tone he reserved for drug runners and arms dealers.

A pair of legs clad in ratty blue jeans appeared and a slight figure crept cautiously down the first few stairs. Chris scowled, folding his arms. "What do you want?"

Jonah shrank back against the wall, wide-eyed. "I w-want to help."

"Oh, I think you've done more than enough already."

"Chris. Don't." Gritting his teeth, Vin pushed himself upright.

Chris stalked back to him. "Are you crazy? Lay down before you start bleeding again!" He grabbed Vin's shoulders but Vin batted him away.

"Help me sit up...or leave me the hell alone."

"You are the most ornery, pig-headed, infuriating--" Chris helped him move to where he could prop his back against one of the support beams.

"Back at ya." Vin tipped his head against the post and closed his eyes. His shoulder was on fire, his stomach was churning, and cold sweat trickled down the sides of his face. When the pain ebbed to a more manageable level, he cracked open his eyes and looked at Jonah, still frozen on the steps. "Where's yer pa?"

"He left. S-said he had to gas up the tr-truck and get a few th-things at the store."

"Then how about you give me those keys and let us get out of here," Chris said, walking as close to the boy as the chain would allow.

Jonah bit his lip and shook his head. "I...I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Chris. Back off."

Chris rounded on him. "I will not back the hell off! If you expect me to sit by and watch you bleed to death, then you don't know me very well. He landed us in this nightmare; the least he can do is get us out."

"I can't!" Jonah yelled, his eyes blazing. "And not just because of what he'd do to me if I did. I don't have the key for those." He stabbed a finger at the cuff around Chris's ankle. "He's got it with him." He blinked, looking a little shocked by his own outburst.

"Then call the police--or better yet, bring me a phone," Chris pressed.

Jonah shook his head, his eyes welling. "I can't," he whispered, all the fight draining from him. "Y-you don't understand. H-he'd k-kill me."

"You said...you wanted to help." Vin's throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue thick and clumsy. Staying focused required tremendous effort. "How?"

Jonah brightened. "I brought you some st-stuff." He inched down another two steps, but after a look at Chris came no closer.

Slipping a large backpack from his shoulders, he pulled out items and tossed them. In quick succession Chris caught several bottles of water, granola bars, towels, a first aid kit, and blanket, setting them at his feet.

Jonah zipped the pack shut and stood. "He'll be b-back soon. I h-have to go."

"Wait!" Chris lunged toward the stairs, stumbling when the chain pulled him up short. "Jonah, Vin--Agent Tanner--has a bullet in his chest. A first aid kit isn't gonna cut it."

Jonah's gaze darted between Vin's pale face and bloody chest. "Once we're gone, my d-dad will t-tell the police where y-you are. He p-p-promised."

"That's too late. He needs a doctor now!"

"Chris."

"Shut up, Vin."

"I'm sorry!" Jonah's voice rose. "It's the b-b-best I can d-do."

"It's not good enough!" Chris snarled.

"Yes, it is." Vin's breathy words cut through the shouting, drawing their attention. "It is." He repeated, looking up at Jonah. "Took a lotta guts...to go against him. I know how hard..." He trailed off, overwhelmed by the image of himself at fourteen--scared, bitter, and old beyond his years--crouched in Jonah's place. "Yer pa's wrong, kid. You...you deserve better 'n this."

For a long moment Jonah stared at Vin, the backpack clutched to his chest like a shield as tears spilled down his cheeks. He made a soft, choked sound and pounded up the steps. The trap door slammed shut and the lock rattled into place.

Chris swore under his breath, scooping the water, granola bars and first aid kit into the blanket and carrying them to Vin. He squatted, touching the backs of his fingers to Vin's clammy cheek.

"You need to lay down."

Vin grabbed a water bottle, fumbling with uncooperative fingers. Chris plucked it from his hands and twisted off the cap, but hesitated.

"Not sure drinking water is such a good idea."

"Gonna die of thirst...'fore the bullet kills me." When Chris still didn't move, Vin held out a trembling hand. "Please, Chris."

Chris gave it up with a glare. "Damn eyes should be registered as lethal weapons. Sip it slowly."

The first swallow was heaven, quenching the fire in his throat, and the second slid down just as smoothly. The third, however, seemed to stick halfway down. Vin spluttered, coughing and wheezing as water trickled from the corners of his mouth. Blinking back tears, he worked to catch his breath. When he looked up, he was startled to see naked fear in Chris's wide green eyes.

"What?"

"You..." Chris picked up a towel and carefully wiped Vin's chin.

Vin blanched when he saw crimson blotches staining the white material. "Guess maybe...you were right...'bout the water."

Chris wadded the towel into a ball, his knuckles white. "I don't care what baggage that kid's carrying. He sticks his nose down here again, he'd better be willing to bring more than some bandages and a blanket."

Vin grabbed Chris's arm. "Not gonna...get that kid killed."

Chris rotated his arm, returning Vin's clasp. "I'm gonna see that goes both ways, pard. Best you don't forget it."

Continued in Chapter 5