Chapter 14

Starsky tried to get his feet under him as he was pulled along between the two guards, but his feet refused to obey him and finally he allowed his body to hang between them, the toes of his sandals drawing two parallel lines behind him, marking his progress. Twice he tried to ask the guards to stop or to tell him what he was being taken back so quickly for, but each time he was ignored, carried like a side of beef through the echoing white corridors back to his cell.

The sodium pentothal in his system refused to relinquish its hold of his mind and body, both feeling fuzzy and unco-ordinated. It was as though he'd had a whole bottle of tequila to himself but without the nausea or headache. If he'd been tucked up warm and safe in his bed back at Ridgeway, he might even have enjoyed the feeling, but the confines of the jail made him jumpy at the best of times and now the effects of the drug left him feeling even more out of control and vulnerable. As his cell hove into view, Starsky made an extra strong attempt to get his legs back under him and as the three of the got to the cell door, it opened and the two guards literally threw the brunet into the small room, stepping inside and closing the door behind them.

The curly haired prisoner stumbled and fell, cannoning into the far wall and falling to his knees. He stayed where he'd fallen on the floor, on his hands and knees, his head hanging down as he slowly shook it from side to side to try to clear it. He was disorientated and for a brief moment he was back in 'Nam, surrounded by green uniformed soldiers. Starsky breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind and he forced his head up to look at the three men in his cell. Two were the guards who had come to the doctor's office for him, the third was a huge figure of a man, whose appearance made the blood in the brunet's veins run cold.

Rafferty.

The huge Irishman looked much the worse for wear and for a second Starsky had chance to wonder what had happened to him. Rafferty stood with his legs braced a little apart, his hands behind his back, but his face was ravaged by dark black bruises across both eyes and down to the tip of his nose. That nose was obviously broken and appeared mashed to one side over the big man's face. Swelling marred the usually florid complexion and Rafferty breathed noisily through flattened nostrils.

'Get up. Don't ya know the rules yet, Blue Eyes. Always stand when a guard enters your cell' the Irishman snapped, kicking out none too gently with the toe of his boot. It connected with the brunet's ribs and he curled round, trying to protect the softer parts of his body from damage. The two other man grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet putting unbearable pressure on his cracked rib and he hissed at the sudden pain but stood drunkenly, swaying between the guards as he eyes Rafferty warily.

'You goin' to apologise pig?'

Starsky licked his lips nervously. 'Sorry' he mumbled, his brain not quite quick enough to understand what he was apologising for.

'Not good enough. You need to be taught a lesson. A private lesson. Thanks guys, I can take it from here' Rafferty said to his two colleagues. They nodded at him and without another word let go of their prisoner and left Rafferty and Starsky alone in the small stone cell. Rafferty stood by the door, his baton drawn and ready while the brunet stood with his back resting against the cell wall, his hands and feet still manacled and his chest heaving as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

Surprisingly, the Irishmen's next action was to walk over and unlock the bracelets from Starsky's wrists and ankles. 'Unbuckle the belt and throw it over onto the bunk, nice and gentle' he ordered. For a moment Starsky paused, unsure that he liked the direction this encounter was taking. Rafferty swung the baton, catching his prisoner across the ribs and taking Starsky unawares. The curly haired man grunted in pain and reached behind him, struggling with the heavy leather and the buckle. Finally he fought himself free and threw the belt down, the chains jangling merrily on the concrete floor.

'We can't have a fair fight when you're chained can we?' Rafferty said conversationally.

'I don't want to fight ya' Starsky said levelly. It was the first time in almost a month that he'd answered back but the drug in his system wore down his inhibitions and his carefully preserved wall of self protection.

'You should've thought about that before you sent your boyfriend after me, you little faggot.'

'Boyfriend? Who…. Oh.' So that was it. Traff must have identified the guard last night and decided a little retribution was in order. Way to go Traff, but on the other hand did the soldier really expect Rafferty not to retaliate? 'I didn't do nuthin.'

'You expect me to believe that? You want me to think that that pretty boy of yours was jealous that he didn't have none of your tight little ass an' I did? I don't think so. I think 02698 decided he didn't like his friend Rafferty any more and sent curly there to work me over. Did ya really think I'd just stand and take it?'

'You got it wrong boss.' The last word stuck in Starsky's throat, but he was keeping an admirable hold on his temper, even though for the first time in a long time, it was simmering below the surface. Whether it was the hypnotism or the drug in his system, Starsky didn't know. All he felt was the power of the adrenaline from his temper surging through his body and for the first time since the terrible shooting, he felt alive – a human being rather than some doll to be pushed from pillar to post. He stood a little straighter and glared at the big guard with contempt in his eyes, goading the big man into action.

'Got it wrong do I? I think it's you that's got it wrong puppy. And little puppy's gonna suffer now for what he did to his master. On your knees puppy. On your knees an' open that mouth, its gonna get a good stretchin' now.' As he spoke, Rafferty brought the baton down on the brunet's shoulder with enough force to push him to his knees, but without enough power to bruise or break.

Starsky dropped to his knees, watching as Rafferty unzipped himself with one hand, the other wrapped into the brunet's hair. The cop had a glimpse of a bruised and swollen sac before Rafferty's cock was once more thrust at him. This time, he opened his mouth wide. This time there was no fear or defeat in his eyes, just a blazing defiance and knowledge that what he was about to do would probably end in his death or at the very least severe injury, but maybe that was the way he was meant to go – with a fight.

Rafferty grinned down at his captive as he saw Starsky obediently open his mouth, but as he closed his eyes and thrust into the warm cavern, he had no idea of what was to happen.

Starsky felt the cock touch the back of his throat, but this time, instead of trying to back away, or gagging at the rod of flesh, the brunet clamped his mouth closed and bit down full force on the tender phallus. Above him, Rafferty's eyes bulged open, a strangled cry escaping his lips as his whole body trembled and he ripped the centre of his body from Starsky's teeth.

'You fuckin' bastard' the guard cried. 'You're gonna wish you hadn't done that. You're gonna wish you'd never laid eyes on me.' The big man's hand was still entwined in Starsky's hair and now he took a firmer hold and used it as a handle to drag the cop to his feet and out of the cell into the corridor. The brunet could taste blood on his tongue and he spat out red tainted saliva as he was pulled along.

'Gomez, Smith, find the two biggest and bring 'em out to the exercise yard. We're gonna have ourselves a little extra curricular activity' Rafferty snarled as his two friends grinned and jangled the keys on the belts round their waists.

Still pulled along by his hair, and in danger of losing a handful of his curls, Starsky felt as though the top of his head was being ripped off. He was propelled up the corridor towards the small secluded exercise yard and thrown through the door to land, skidding on his knees on the gravel. He felt the thin material of his pants give way and the small stones bite into the flesh of his knees. Thankful for a small reprieve to get back his breath, Starsky stayed where he was on the ground, wiping the blood from his grazed palms down his trouser legs. Rafferty stood by the door, his hands clutched between his legs as for the second time in 24 hours, he felt as though the centre of his body was on fire.

The brunet's break was short lived however as the door opened again and into the yard strode three of the biggest men Starsky had ever seen. He recognised them instantly as the Mandalay Mates, a drug cartel that he and Hutch had helped to put away 6 months ago. The three men, all brothers had vowed to get their revenge on both cops one way or the other, and now it looked as though at least half their wish was about to come true.

Starsky pushed himself to his feet, backing up slowly as he watched the grins appear on Robbie, Donny and Hank Marvello's faces. They spread out, circling the brunet while he tried to keep the wall to his back. Three against one was hardly fair odds and he was already spacey from the drug and hurt from previous encounters with guards and prisoners alike. But he felt alive. He felt as though this at least was how he should be; angry, ramped, feisty and defiant to the last. In all it was the first time he'd felt like Dave Starsky in over 6 weeks.

With a yell, Hank made a lunge for the brunet, kicking out at Starsky's knee. The brunet ducked sideways, grabbing a hold of the approaching foot and twisting it sideways, Hank was thrown off balance and stumbled, falling to the ground, but the diversion was all Donny and Robbie needed and they attacked together. Donny grabbed Starsky round the body, holding him in a bear hug embrace, while Robbie ploughed his ham-like fists into the brunet's chest and stomach time after time. Starsky had no chance to catch his breath or to ride with the blows. They came in quick succession and he felt bones break under the onslaught. He had no chance to defend himself and nowhere to hide. Twenty foot high walls rose on all four sides of the small compound and by the doorway, Rafferty watched the spectacle, a grin plastered on his face.

After five minutes or so Robbie paused for breath while Starsky hung limp and bleeding in Donny's arms. The brunet's vision was tinted red and he saw the world through a blood haze. The curly haired cop realised this was most probably the end. He needed a miracle to survive this. He needed an avenging angel. He needed Hutch, but that would never happen again. Maybe one of the other guards would see what was going on and stop this. Maybe pigs would fly.

Pigs would fly…..pigs would fly…..pigs would fly. The sentiment went round and round in Starsky's head, his fevered mind latching onto that last sentence and repeating it until the words had no meaning. If he could only hang on. Ride it out until someone….anyone came.

And then he saw it. The flash of a blade, shiny and silver in the afternoon sunshine and suddenly Hank grabbed for it, catching it where Rafferty had throw it down onto the gravel. With a roar of approval, the big drug dealer launched himself at Starsky who felt a searing burning sensation on the side of his neck. He felt blood flow and then he found it increasingly difficult to breath. The brunet staggered and Donny let him slide to the ground where he crumpled into an untidy ball and remained, his eyes open as he watched fascinated as the huge gash on his neck pumped his lifeblood out onto the gravel.