Six Years Ago...
That twat with a 'tache chances it with you, "Foxy, I can give you £35,765 right now so long as you let him go. I'll give you the rest when he is safely home."
The fucking cheek. Brendan thinks he can call you at six in the morning on a Sunday without so much as a 'good morning' to tell you some bullshit.
Uh. No, you Irish prick. That is not how this works, you think. Not even Brendan motherfucking Brady can mess with you.
"Let me speak with him." He begs and that is like chicken soup for the soul. You love hearing him plead. But you are never going to compromise so you laugh and put the phone down on him.
The cackle dies on your lips the minute you end the call. Within seconds sleep claims you again.
xo
You wake up late at midday and check your phone straight away. John hasn't called to give you an up-to-date report on how things are going with Ste. That is against your agreement so you text him,
Wakey, wakey, sunshine. I need a status update on the parcel a.s.a.p. Remember the kid needs to remain unharmed.
You get showered and dressed and make your way to the club in search of Brendan. He isn't there.
"Thank God, Warren! At least one of you managers is here. You haven't seen Bren, have you? I've been calling him all morning." Chez says looking flustered and stressed. "He was supposed to pick up a delivery in Chester this morning. I had to send Rhys instead."
You shake your head. "No. Haven't seen him since yesterday."
"I've tried calling Ste to see if he knows his whereabouts but he isn't picking up either. I reckon they are both ignoring my calls! Hang on; do you think they're together?"
You grimace and shrug to convey 'how the fuck should I know?'
"No. You're right. Bren said they weren't going to be together this weekend. What am I going to do now? We're short-staffed. I'll need to ask Ste to come in if Bren doesn't show up."
Cheryl has literally gone red in the face.
"Ste?" You say. Keep cool, Foxy. "Really?"
She nods.
"Give the kid a break, Chez." You say calmly. "He practically lives here as it is."
She thinks about this. "Yeah. It's not fair, is it? I've been working him too hard, the wee poppet. But he said he needed the money, so..."
"Breathe, Cheryl." You touch her shoulder comfortingly. "I'll try and see if I can track your brother down if you want. I came looking for him anyway about a thing. Make yourself a cup of tea and chill for a bit, yeah?"
She gives you a grateful smile.
"Thanks. What would I do without you?"
You wave your hand dismissively before she walks off to the office.
You hear Brendan's voice downstairs moments later so you go to find him and see that Peter is with him in the otherwise empty bar area.
"Hello boys." You say with a wide grin. "Just the man I was looking for, Brendan!"
They both glare at you.
"Bad day?" You ask innocently.
Brendan strides up to you menacingly. He bares his teeth at you but says nothing so you whisper into his ear,
"Any update on your call earlier?"
"What call?" Pete asks behind him.
"Don't worry." The tache-man hisses at you quietly. "It will happen."
"Who's worried?" You say, hands in pockets. "I'm not the one who stands to lose something irreplaceable."
The anger vanishes from his face for a split second. It is replaced by pure sorrow. Shit. The hard man really has fallen in deep for weasel-face. He can't even hide it.
"What is he talking about, Bren?"
You glare at Brendan daring him to blurt the truth to his best friend but you know that he won't do anything to potentially harm Ste so he replies,
"Nothing. Just Foxy being Foxy." He pats your chest firmly and takes a step back.
You smile as if you are having the time of your life and move to leave.
"Where are you going?" He asks urgently.
"Mitzeee's. The girl needs attention." You wink. "But I'll be back at the club tonight. Why?"
"I'll have something to give you soon."
Your ears prick up. "Tonight?"
"Much sooner than that, I think."
You laugh. "That is what I wanted to hear. See what a little motivation does?"
You stride past them, pushing Pete's wheelchair out of the way so that he collides against a table and chairs as you head out of the club.
"Knob." Pete mumbles.
At the last minute, you turn to face them before you exit the premises.
"By the way, your sister is upstairs. She was wondering where you were. I think she was thinking of calling Ste if you didn't show to cover your shift. Thought you should know."
XOXO
You still haven't heard back from John despite calls and texts to him.
You had planned to go to the barn to check on the situation but you are concerned that Brendan is watching your every move now and will follow you to his lover.
Not a problem. You had anticipated this and put a plan B in place just in case. You haven't got to where you are without thinking three steps ahead.
Just shy of one pm you let yourself into Mitzeee's empty flat and take out your computer tablet. A few double clicks later and your screen shows you a panoramic view of the inside of a barn outside Chester.
You had set the camera up for exactly this reason and in case Brendan needed proof that his bloke was definitely in your possession. In fact, the only real need for John is to troubleshoot; water, feed, and allow Ste to pee and poo. He is a nanny, with a criminal past.
Thirty-six hours have lapsed since you last clapped eyes on Ste. You want to make sure that he is okay otherwise the cycle of revenge between you and Brendan will continue. And this is all about finally having one up on the Irishman.
The picture in front of you is a sharp greyscale image. Currently it looks like a still because nothing and no-one is moving in the frame. Ste is slumped on the floor on his side, blindfolded and gagged. His hands are tied behind his back but his legs are free. John is sitting on the dusty floor on the other side of the barn leaning on the wall. He is asleep with an extinguished fag still in hand. He has a dressing covering half of his face for some reason and his mobile and gun are by his side. The fucker. Why isn't he answering your calls when his phone is right there next to him? And why is Ste on the floor?
You haven't got time to see everything that has happened realtime so you rewind and look closely at the events as they unravel in reverse.
Between now and 10.13 this morning there is a lot of not a lot. Ste stays on the floor and John paces, smokes, looks over at Ste and sleeps.
At the 10.13 mark, John stands up. He rubs the barrel of his gun against his head as if relieving a headache. Meanwhile, Ste remains motionless on the floor. John looks over at Ste again, looks at his phone and then seconds later types a text.
Who the hell is he communicating with?
At 10.05, he walks backwards towards the chair in the centre of the barn. He appears to tip it on its side before walking backwards to Ste. Your hostage scrambles closer to his captor as a light kick to his ribs disconnects with his body. Then weasel-face lies curled up tightly in a motionless ball as John walks backwards from him to the barn door and through it. It closes rapidly so that Ste is alone inside the building.
From 10.02 to 06.17 the image remains virtually static again with Ste lying in the same position. That's nearly four hours without moving. There is a smudge on the floor near his head that is hard to identify; like a dark puddle of something. You hope it is not what it looks like. You really hope Ste is just sleeping.
At 06.17, one of his feet moves. You breathe a sigh of relief at the sign of life.
You press pause. You look closely at Ste for signs of injury other than the ribs which you know about (they'll heal). There is nothing obvious from the angle he is lying at. When you look closer you realise that his t-shirt is on the wrong way round and his trousers are unfastened. Looking around, the chair is tipped and a distance away from him and an empty can of baked beans and cup lie next to him.
What the fuck happened here and where is John during this time?
Your heart is in your mouth as you block-rewind by an hour and then press play again to find out.
At 05.17, Ste is strapped into the chair you put him in on Friday while John is looking at him attentively. The kid suddenly squirms in his seat and his face scrunches up. He is blindfolded at this point but not gagged. The audio is not brilliant but you can just about make out what is being said.
"You alright there, sexy?" John says disinterestedly.
Ste grits his teeth, "I need to pee, please."
John chortles. "Have you suddenly developed a sense of what's proper? You pissed all over yourself yesterday."
You lean forward, paying attention to every detail on the screen.
"Uh. Yeah. But I couldn't help it before. I-"
"Jesus. You got a pout on you, haven't you?" John sighs and he lumbers over to weasel-face, gun in hand. He grabs hold of Ste's face by the cheeks and squeezes. "Cute face. Tight body. Bet you are a heartbreaker when you put yourself together."
You frown. That sounds like a suggestive line which is not only inappropriate but also unexpected given that the man is married with five kids.
"N-n-no." Ste stammers, shaking his face free of the vice-like hold. He has clearly come to your same conclusion. John is being a perv and he is scared.
John scans his eyes down Ste's body unbeknownst to the lad.
"Fine." The older man says, finally. "Just because you asked so nicely, I'll oblige. I'll get the bucket. Just don't think of doing anything stupid. I really wouldn't want to use my little friend here."
He touches the tip of his gun to Ste's lips and the kid pulls away petrified. "I won't."
Your accomplice releases Ste's wrists from the chair and helps him to stand before placing the metal bucket you got for nature calls in front of him.
"I've got a soft spot for you, kid, I won't lie." John says. "The wife always says that I am generous and giving to a fault and she's right, you know. I'm a giver, me!"
He runs a hand slowly up one of Ste's freed up arms and you feel a retch of impending doom. What the fuck is John playing at?
"Y-y-you have a wife?" Ste asks nervously, pulling his arm away.
"More like a parasite. Nagging all the time. Feels like I'm fucking a wind tunnel she is so loose after having the kids. And she has let herself go. At least she can cook. Small blessings."
"But you love her, yeah?" Ste asks quietly.
"How the fuck is that your business?" John sneers.
Ste cowers away from the voice behind him. "No. I m-mean, that's the thing about b-b-being with someone you l-love, I think. You s-s-stay with them because you have this b-b-bond that's unbreakable, like even when bits begin to s-s-sag or droop. Even w-when they are less than perfect. Because you love the b-bits t-t-that aren't perfect, too. You still want to be with them, innit?"
"What the fuck are you taking about?" John says in disgust. He grips Ste's elbow firmly and directs him in front of the bucket. Weasel-face appears weak. You notice his shallow breathing and his frail, uncoordinated moves. He blindly holds his free hand out in front of him for balance.
"I-, uh, nothing. I just thought that-"
"Oh, shut up and piss already. The bucket's just in front of you." John lets go of his arm.
"S-sorry." Ste quickly unfastens his trousers and then pauses hesitating before pulling down his pants just enough to do what he needs to do. His buttocks remain discreetly covered.
Clearly he is creeped out by John and you can see why. From your objective perspective it is obvious how vulnerable a position he is in. John is a letch. He probably doesn't identify as gay but he definitely likes what he sees when it comes to Ste. He ogles the lad while Ste empties his bladder into the bucket. You feel like putting your hand into the image and pushing your accomplice away.
It's nothing sentimental but for business reasons Ste needs to be unharmed.
The lad shakes his cock dry once he is done and swiftly does himself up again.
"Done." He says. Then he pauses thoughtfully. "Um, J?"
"What?"
"Can I have something to eat please? I'm starving."
John laughs. "Changed your mind?"
"I haven't had anything since I got here."
John grins. "Sit."
Ste obeys immediately and sits on the floor just avoiding the piss filled bucket.
John passes him a can of baked beans. Ste opens it and holds onto the lid, using a hand to scoop the gooey beans and stuff them into his mouth. His actions are crude and animalistic, driven by hunger. You actually feel bad. You should have brought a spoon.
"Thank you." Ste says once he is done licking his fingers. He holds onto the can's lid, lingering over its sharp edge but drops the can itself.
"Not a problem, sexy."
Ste grips the lid tighter. He cocks his head to one side.
Wait. What is going through the lad's mind? You hope it isn't what you think. He shouldn't mess with John.
"Can I have some water, please?" Ste says softly. His voice is suddenly all sweetness and light.
Fucking watch it, you think to both of them.
"You'll be asking for pudding next." John scoffs as he turns his back to Ste to pour him a drink from the large flask.
Ste acts quickly, reading an opportunity to take action. He whips his blindfold off while getting to his feet and spots John a short distance away facing away from him with his gun in his belt.
Shit. He is going to make a break for freedom. Not smart, kid, not smart, you think. You have seen the footage. You know Ste doesn't escape. What you don't know is how. You are dreading finding out the answer.
He adjusts the grip on the tin's lid so that the serrated edge juts out ready to cause harm. That is when John turns around, "What the fuck?"
Ste lunges towards the bigger man and slashes his face creating a long bleeding gash across John's cheek.
"Argh!" John shouts and Ste grabs the gun while his captor clutches his face. He makes for the exit as quickly as he can. His speed is limited by his chest injury. When he gets there he tugs at the industrial sized padlock that keeps the barn's double doors closed.
John presses on his cheek with one hand while hobbling towards Ste. "You fucker! Get back here!"
"No!"
In an act of desperation Ste shoots at the lock repeatedly trying to break it open.
That is his mistake. He is not thinking like a criminal. He is thinking like a victim. Had you been in his position you would be aiming your bullets at the lumbering seventeen-stone man coming after you.
Instead the lad wastes his round of ammunition and wails in fear when he tries the door again and it still doesn't open. He manages to duck out of John's grasp when the big man approaches but then immediately doubles over in pain and falls to the floor. The excruciating pain he gets from his ribs as a result of the sudden movement incapacitates him.
John bends down and grasps his hair forcefully. He angrily drags him away from the door and towards the centre of the barn. Ste valiantly tries to fight him off while screaming in pain. He kicks out and scratches but he is disadvantaged in strength, size and current body fitness.
"Stop moving you little fucker!" John shouts.
"Let me go!" Ste screams hitting out with the gun in his hand, trying to dislodge John's fingers from his hair. He almost breaks free.
John's eyes harden then. He snatches the gun out of Ste's hand and swings it wildly. The sharp metal connects with the back of the kid's head. You hear a hard heavy thud. Ste's strangled choke is followed by his limp toneless body crumpling to the ground.
John is enraged. You can see that he has lost all sense of rationality.
"No one fucks with John Gaskin. No one. Not some faggoty kid. No one." He mutters while pulling at Ste's clothes.
Fuck.
What the fuck is John doing?
The kid is unconscious; completely unmoving. When Ste is stripped naked, John pushes him onto his back and gets between his legs. Ste stirs awake as the older man unzips his fly. A small pool of blood collects on the floor under the lad's head.
How bad is his head injury? He looks concussed, disorientated.
"No." He groans groggily pushing weakly at John's chest as the bigger man moves in closer to him.
Your accomplice laughs sotto voce. "You fucking bitch. I'll teach ya."
John spits onto his hand. Thank God the angle is such that you can't see the detail of what happens next.
All you know is that he moves to lie over Ste and pushes into him.
The lad gasps faintly, "This can't be happening..."
Then he lets out an almighty scream.
"Shut the fuck up!" John clamps a hand over the lad's mouth and begins to thrust into him ferociously. "Don't act like you don't like it. I know you take it up the arse!"
"Please stop!" Ste sobs weakly trying in vain to fight him off.
You get a wave of nausea all of a sudden and run to Mitzeee's toilet and retch into it. When you get back to your computer tablet you hear John's climax. In disgust you turn the audio off and watch the monitor again through narrowed eyes as he slowly gets off the boy and stands up.
He looks down at Ste in bewilderment as if he doesn't quite know what he has just done. He wipes his sweaty brow as he zips up his fly and points at the lad.
"Get dressed." He says breathlessly. "There's a good boy."
Ste groans and rolls onto his side, away from John.
John covers his mouth at the sight of congealing blood at the back of Ste's head and the smearing of blood mixed with cum an his butt.
"You're okay." The older man says shakily as the gravity of what he has done dawns on him. "Just a little graze hear and there. Not a problem. I'll help you." He rips off a bit of his t-shirt and roughly wipes the kid's crack with it, getting a moan of pain in response.
You turn the monitor off at that point. You feel overheated. You feel sick to your stomach. You feel angry beyond belief.
Ste looks fucked... in every sense of the word. And the worst part is that this all happened more than seven hours ago. All you know is that he has barely moved since John raped him. As far as you have seen he has only moved twice since; when his foot twitched at 06.17 and when John kicked him in the ribs at about 10 o'clock, presumably to check if he was still alive.
Your accomplice has probably been trying to figure out how to cover up his fuck up from you these last few hours. That is why he hasn't communicated with you.
What are you going to tell Brendan? How is this going to put you in the driver's seat? The Irishman will never let this go. Never. He will be after your blood once he finds out and all because John couldn't manage his anger and keep his dick in his pants.
You quake with rage as you call his number. This time John answers almost straight away.
"Where are you?" You ask.
"At the barn, why?" He says. He does a good job of sounding like nothing has happened.
"You haven't answered my calls."
"Sorry, boss. Didn't hear the phone."
"I'm coming over."
"Why? I've got it covered." His panic is showing. "Has the money come through?"
"Yeah." You say. "I need the package for the exchange of goods."
"Right." He says. "Okay."
"See you soon." You put the phone down, take your computer tablet and run out of your girlfriend's flat. Destination- Chester countryside.
As you step out of the apartment block and head for your car you forget, in your urgency, that you might be under observation.
Two pairs of eyes stare at you carefully and begin to make a move.