Allyn and Ransom – 8

 

 

"Only three?" Allyn looked at Ransom in disbelief. "In this city I'd think it would be three a day—minimum."

 

"At least," Ransom agreed. "The difference with these three—Patterson, another young man, and a woman—is that they were last seen at large social events. Patterson at the masked ball, Mr Dawson at the 'Moonlight Gala on the River', and Ms Stevens at the soirée to raise funds for a local charity."

 

"Dawson and Ms Steven's families aren't raising hell like Patterson?" Allyn asked.

 

"They're obviously worried, but they don't have Patterson's pull. Ms Steven's was working as a server at the charity fundraiser. No one saw her leave. Mr. Dawson was last seen going toward the lot where he'd parked his car. He was alone, according to witnesses, although one of them overheard him on the phone, saying he'd 'be there in ten minutes'."

 

"Are the society events the only thing tying the three missing people to each other?" Miranda asked.

 

Ransom replied, "As far as we've found out to this point."

 

"You cross-checked the attendee lists to see who went to all three?"

 

"Yes, Miranda. I do know my job," Ransom replied with some asperity.

 

"And?"

 

"These were all big parties. A lot of the same people attended all three."

 

"One more question." Allyn looked hard at Ransom. "As far as I know, Ellis is a human. Were the other two as well?"

 

"Yep. Why do you ask?"

 

Allyn shrugged. "Just want to make certain someone isn't targeting paranormals."

 

"How likely is that to happen?" Miranda said.

 

"It's happened in the past," Allyn told her. "Ran and I wouldn't have met otherwise."

 

"When?"

 

Allyn cocked his head, glancing at Ransom. "Fifty years ago?"

 

"'Bout that, yeah." Ransom smiled at Miranda. "You were just a pup then, so you wouldn't remember."

 

"But you're going to tell me. Right?" she replied.

 

"Not now," Allyn said before Ransom could start the story. "We've got other things to worry about." He shot a look at Ransom. "So three people missing…all in their twenties?"

 

"Yes."

 

"They weren't kidnapped because they're rich, if that's what happened, since you said the girl was working as a server. No school connection?"

 

"Nope." Ransom took out a notebook, flipping the pages to the one he wanted. "Patterson is a grad student at Loyola. Dawson goes to Tulane, and Ms Stevens was taking night classes at UNO."

 

"Hmm. Church? Clubs? Not nightclubs but umm…nature clubs, book clubs, biking ones?"

 

"No to all those. Believe me, Allyn, I've done my homework."

 

"There has to be something they do in common that caught their abductor's eye. I mean, other than go to society events. After all, Ms Stevens was only there to work, not to party."

 

Miranda tapped her fork on her plate, getting annoyed looks from her brother and Ransom. "Sorry," she said. "I was just thinking. What do they look like?"

 

"Stevens is blonde. Patterson has dark hair. Dawson's a redhead. None of them are overweight or anorexic. They don't wear glasses or contacts. They don't have tats or any other distinguishing marks," Ransom told her.

 

 "Just your average twenty-somethings." She tapped the fork again. "Healthy?"

 

"Yes, ma'am." Ransom grinned at her. "Healthy as horses. Dawson belongs to a gym. Patterson and Ms Stevens run, according to their parents."

 

"So even though the two men are from wealthy families, they still keep in shape," Miranda said.

 

Allyn snorted. "What does money have to do with that? You and I are in great shape, Miranda, and we're richer than Croesus."

 

"But we have genetics on our side." She lifted an eyebrow at him. "In your case, it's a damned good thing, since your idea of exercise, except for the occasional workouts you so grudgingly do, is dancing at clubs."

 

Ransom chortled. "Still doing that, huh?"

 

"Occasionally," Allyn admitted.

 

"Like every other night," Miranda told Ransom. "Or more."

 

"And we're way off the subject," Allyn muttered, shooting his sister a sour look.

Allyn and Ransom – 7

 

Allyn left Liam's condo just as the sun was rising, going to pick up his Ferrari from the secure parking garage where he'd left it the previous evening. He arrived home just as Miranda was coming down for breakfast and joined her, with the intention of heading straight to bed afterward to catch up on lost sleep.

 

They were halfway through their meal—with Miranda telling Allyn about her evening on the boat with John—when their houseman, Peter, appeared.

 

"Allyn, Miranda, there's a gentleman at the front door who says he needs to talk with you."

 

"Did he give you a name?"

 

"I suspect he already has one," an amused voice said from the breakfast nook archway. A tall, muscular man with brown, sun-streaked hair and hazel eyes stood there.

 

"Shit!" Allyn said, jumping to his feet with the intention of leaving the room post-haste. "What the hell are you doing here, Ransom?"

 

"Now is that the way to greet an old friend? I'd have waited until your man said it was okay to come in, but I knew that would be your reaction, Allyn."

 

"The infamous Ransom Carlyle, as I live and breathe," Miranda said in a deep—and very feigned—Southern accent, fluttering her eyelashes. "What brings y'all to this part of our fair city?"

 

Ransom chuckled. "More like outside of the fair city, Miss…Miranda I believe." When she nodded, he turned and said, "Allyn, please sit down."

 

Allyn clenched his hands but did as Ransom requested, giving a nod to Peter to let him know it was all right for him to leave. Then, glaring at Ransom, Allyn asked, "Why are you here?"

 

Grinning, Ransom replied, "To see your handsome face again? Not really, although that is a definite perk."

 

"Cut the…the flattery, if that's what you think it is. We ended things a long time ago."

 

"About fifty years ago, by my count," Ransom said. "To answer your question, I understand the two of you were at the big masked ball a couple of nights ago."

 

"We were. It was a blast," Miranda replied.

 

Since Ransom was currently a detective with the NOPD, Allyn had to presume the question related to something that happened at the ball, so he nodded in agreement with Miranda.

 

"Did either of you see this young man while you were there. And more to the point, did you see who he left with?" Ransom put a photo down on the table.

 

"I didn't see him there, but then the place was very crowded," Allyn told him. "I do recognize him. Ellis Patterson. His father's some bigwig, from what I remember."

 

Ransom smiled sourly. "Very much so. He reported Ellis as missing and has been raising hell because we don't have half the force going door-to-door looking for him."

 

"So you're questioning everyone at the party to keep Mr. Patterson off your back. It took you long enough to get to us," Allyn said.

 

Ransom nodded. "I'm working through the list from A-to-Z. Warwick is one of the last names on it."

 

"Did anyone see Ellis?" Miranda asked.

 

"A lot of people did," Ransom told her. "But only two—friends of his—actually saw him when he left. Their description of the man he was with leaves something to be desired. Tall, with dark hair."

 

Allyn snorted. "That could be half the men at the ball. Why are you involved with finding Ellis, other than his father putting the pressure on? I thought that was something missing persons took care of."

 

"Normally it would be. However, Ellis Patterson is the third young person in the last month to have vanished without a trace."

 

Allyn and Ransom – 6

 

 

Grigore was restless—and frustrated. He knew how to relieve the frustration. Find a person willing and able to sate his sexual needs. That, however, would require that he leave the estate—something he was loath to do at the moment. Not until he knew that his latest victim hadn't been seen with him. He had chosen the young man at random as he'd left the masked ball two nights ago. He hadn't been his first choice. No. The handsome man in lavender was the one who had interested him. Grigore almost propositioned him when the man followed him across the ballroom. There had been something different about him. Something intriguing and yet…

 

Who are you? What was the power I sensed? Would you make a good playmate for my game? Perhaps. But how do I find you again?

 

He paced the great room of his manor house, paused to pour a glass of wine from the decanter on the credenza then hurried to what some might call his media room. To him it was only the place where he could keep up with happenings outside his personal realm which might affect him to one extent or another. At the moment, he needed to find out if the young man he had abducted to play his game was listed among the many missing persons in the city.

 

He tapped the On button for his computer, waited the requisite time for it to come to life then went online. It didn't take him long to find out that his victim had been the scion of a prominent—and wealthy—businessman.

 

Ellis Patterson, son of Jack Patterson, was reported missing after attending the masked ball held at the Harveston manor in the Garden District, the news article reported. He was last seen by two of his companions in the presence of a tall, dark-haired man as the pair drove away from the ball. The witnesses described the vehicle as a either a black or dark blue Mercedes coupe with, they think, out-of-state plates. So far, no one has come up with a firm description of Patterson's possible abductor other than that given by his friends. If anyone has any information they are asked to call the NOPD.

 

Grigore chuckled. Their description of the car was correct. However, it wasn't his. He had appropriated it from home of a passing acquaintance who, he knew, was out of the country at the moment—and had returned it once he had the young man sedated—using his own car to drive back to the estate.

 

By the time they'd gotten inside the manor house, Ellis had regained consciousness. Grigore had enthralled him, ordering him to undress. Afterwards, he'd implanted the idea in Ellis's mind that he had fed from him—an idea which had served to terrify his victim even more than he'd been already. Then, Grigore had locked him in a room in the basement created especially for the game.

 

If a victim had any sense at all, when they finally came to, they would find a way to leave—either through the small window high on the exterior wall or via the "carelessly" unlocked door concealed behind a rack of shelves. At that point, the hunt was on. If they didn't escape the room—then Grigore still fed well, although with not as much pleasure as when he hunted down his prey, the way he had done with Ellis.

 

Grigore finished reading the news article, and several others that also concerned the missing young man. In none of them did he find anything which said he would be recognized when he went into the city again. Still, he would wait for the weekend. Then he would visit a gala of one sort or another, where the elite flaunted their perfect lives in an attempt to prove they were far superior to the average man.

 

When he'd first returned to the city a while back, he had done as always—culled from the down-and-out living on the streets—those who wouldn't be missed. Now he went after the callow, narcissistic youth, male or female, with nothing better to do than idle away their nights in revelry.

 

He was the hunter, not the hunted. It had always been thus and he had no intention of that changing through his own stupidity—or frustration.

Allyn and Ransom – 5

 

 

"Ha. Thought you could hide from me?"

 

Allyn turned, smiling at Liam. "Now why would I want to do that?"

 

"Because there are so many beautiful men here?" Liam waved his arm to encompass the club.

 

Allyn had to admit he was correct. It seemed to be the sort of night that brought out every man worth looking at. Perhaps because there's a full moon? He could believe that.

 

"You, however, are the most beautiful one of all," Liam whispered, while taking Allyn's hand to lead him to the dance floor.

 

"You flatter me," Allyn replied, laughing.

 

Liam grinned. "Will it get me everywhere?"

 

"Not certain about that. But it will get me into your bed, I suspect."

 

"And into your heart?"

 

"Liam," Allyn cautioned. His lover knew it wouldn't happen. It was one of the rules of the game. No emotional attachments. Allyn had learned long ago to dismiss any man who seemed to care too much. Sex—good sex—was fun and relieved the boredom. Anything more became an entanglement he didn't want and wouldn't allow.

 

"Sorry," Liam murmured. Wrapping his arms around Allyn, he began to sway to the music. Allyn moved with him and soon the dance became one of seduction on both their parts. Yet each man restrained himself, knowing that anticipation only heightened how the evening would end.

 

It was late, well past midnight, when they finally decided to retire to Liam's place. As they walked down the still-crowded Bourbon Street, Allyn saw a man dressed in black ahead of them and his thoughts instantly went to the previous evening. His pulse sped up, as did his pace. He wanted to see if it was the same man.

 

"You are in a hurry," Liam said, grinning lasciviously, his arm tightening around Allyn's waist. "We're almost there."

 

At the same moment, the man turned and disappointment washed over Allyn. I knew it really couldn't be him. But damn… He felt Liam steer him around the corner and quickly snapped out of his funk. Liam might not be the man in black, but he was certainly what Allyn needed right now. He stopped long enough to give Liam a sultry kiss before they continued down the street to the building housing Liam's condo.

Allyn and Ransom – 4

 

 

Allyn, feeling a bit at loose ends at the moment—which seemed to happen too often these days—went into the library to find something to read. He took the book out to the patio beside the pool, dropping down onto one of the chaise lounges. He tried to get into the story, but his mind kept wandering back to the man in black.

 

He's pure evil, so why am I finding him so fascinating? And in less than a half hour's time. How do I find him again? And do I want to? He tapped his lip pensively. I'd be more than willing to bet he wasn't an invited guest, not from the way he was dressed and how quickly he came and went. Still… If I'm wrong, he might have been on the guest list. Of course, matching a name on it to him would be well-nigh impossible.

 

Allyn returned to his reading, and this time he managed to concentrate long enough to decide the book wasn't really his cup of tea after all. Going back to the library, he replaced it on the shelf. Then, he went upstairs to dress for what he planned to do next.

* * * *

Grigore watched in dry amusement as the young man tried to flee to safety. Not that it would happen. Grigore had no intention of letting him escape. Besides which, there was no place for him to go on the huge estate, bounded as it was by a brick wall half again as tall as the ten foot Thuja cypresses that lined it. No place but back to the manor house.

 

And that will only give him false hope that he might be able to escape again when he regains his strength.  

 

Slowly, unrelenting, Grigore stalked his prey. He could smell the lad's fear, taste it on the tip of his tongue. Hear it in the panting breaths, even though Grigore was halfway across the densely forested area from his terrified victim.

 

Why do I bother to choose such weaklings? Surely there is someone out there truly worthy of the challenge I set.

 

So far, Grigore hadn't found such a person—male or female. They let their fear of what he was overcome their ability to think. To reason. To fight back.

 

"What has happened to this generation?" he muttered. "Have they no courage? No desire to test the limits of their endurance?"

 

He neared the young man. The sound of his panicked scrambling, as he searched for somewhere to hide, was music to Grigore's ears.

 

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Grigore said mockingly, reaching down to pluck the lad from the thick bushes that he thought would give him cover—and safety.

 

"Please, please…"

 

The whining, terrified words ended in a scream as Grigore ripped open the throat of his victim and drank deeply, draining him until he was nothing more than a desiccated corpse.

Allyn and Ransom - 3

 

There were advantages to being wealthy, as Allyn and Miranda had found out over the years. Advantages such as sleeping until noon after a night of partying or clubbing—and they did both of those quite often.

 

Having a great deal of money also meant they were able to afford a very large home outside of the city. It sat on six acres of land along the shores of Lake Pontchartrain. From the third floor, they were able to look south across the intervening area and see the Mississippi.

 

Allyn awoke the day after the masked ball to sunshine coming through his bedroom windows. Stretching, he sat up, climbed out of his massive bed, and strolled into the bathroom. After taking care of the most pressing business, he drew water in the black onyx and white marble tub, eased in once it was full, and luxuriated in the heat. Only when it started to cool did he get out. After dressing in an old pair of jeans and a comfortable T-shirt, he combed his shoulder-length red-brown hair, binding it with a leather clasp at the nape of his neck. Then he went out onto the balcony off his bedroom. Leaning against the wrought iron railing, he looked down at their Olympic-sized pool.

 

Miranda was swimming laps at the moment, so he waited for her to finish before calling out, "Did you leave me any breakfast?"

 

Laughing, she replied, "Enough to feed a starving wolf. Mrs. Wilcox made us strawberry waffles, eggs, bacon and sausage, fresh mango juice and—" she tapped her chin, "—ah yes, steak and a fresh salad in case we got up late enough to call it brunch, not breakfast."

 

By the time Miranda finished telling him what there was, Allyn was salivating. He hurried down the spiral staircase and through the music room to the breakfast nook—nook being a bit of a misnomer as it held a table that seated six—in a rotunda off the kitchen, with tall windows along the curved walls. He filled his plate with steak, eggs, and waffles, poured a large glass of juice, and settled down to enjoy his brunch.

 

When his hunger was sated, he took his dishes into the kitchen and thanked Mrs. Wilcox for the meal. Then he meandered into the workout room.

 

"Don't you know you should have done this first, before eating?" John—their live-in personal trainer and Miranda's lover—asked, grinning. It was a rhetorical question, since he knew Allyn was never willing to work out on an empty stomach.

 

After Allyn changed into shorts, John ran him through his paces, with Miranda joining them partway through.

 

"So what are your plans for this evening?" John asked when they were finished. "Another night of dissipation?"

 

"Us? Dissipation?" Miranda looked at John in feigned shock. "Never!"

 

"Yes, you, my dear. Both of you." John gave her a hug and a pat on the butt. "Go get dressed, Mandi. You and I are going out on the boat." He glanced at Allyn. "You're invited, of course."

 

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass," Allyn replied. "Watching the two of you making out is not on the top of my to-do list."

 

Miranda and John both gave him innocent looks, Miranda saying, "Now would we do that?"

 

Allyn snorted. "At the drop of a hat. So go. Have fun. I might take off later and go into the city."

 

"To visit Liam?" Miranda asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

 

"That has yet to be decided."

 

"Well, whatever you do, enjoy yourself." She kissed his cheek before dashing off to change for the boat ride.

 

John followed a bit more sedately, adding, "Ditto that," before leaving the room.

Allyn and Ransom – 2

 

 

An hour later, Allyn and Liam returned to the ball, well sated and—at least in Allyn's case—in a much better mood.

 

As they descended the staircase, Allyn paused. Scanning the throng of partygoers, he searched for Miranda. Finding her, he frowned, wondering who her new dancing partner was.

 

"Your sister has a taste for unavailable men," Liam commented. "That's Daniel Markham."

 

"How do you know who everyone is when they're masked?"

 

"Not everyone, my dear man. Just those who are members of a certain private club I belong to." Liam grinned slyly. "I never forget a good body—no matter how it's clothed—once I've seen it naked."

 

"And slept with it," Allyn said dryly, still perusing the crowded dance floor.

 

Liam chuckled. "Contrary to popular opinion, I haven't slept with every eligible man in the city."

 

"Just all the gay ones," Allyn teased.

 

Whatever Liam's reply, it was lost to Allyn when his gaze landed on a man just entering the ballroom. In contrast to the rest of the attendees with their ornate and lavishly colored costumes, the man was dressed in black. He wore a double-breasted, high-collared tailcoat, black trousers, and knee-high boots. The only touch of color was the blood-red cravat at his throat, which accented his pale complexion. His mask was as plain as the rest of his costume: simple, black, and covering only his eyes—unlike the very fanciful ones of the other guests, including Allyn's.

 

"Who is he?" Allyn asked Liam, gesturing toward the man at the far side of the room.

 

Liam studied him, then shook his head. "No one I know. How gauche, not to wear a full-blown costume to a fancy dress ball."

 

"You must admit it makes him stand out," Allyn replied, as he made his way down the remainder of the staircase to the ballroom. For no logical reason that he could discern, he needed to see the man close-up. So he began wending his way through the dancers, gracefully stepping out of the paths of the more enthusiastic ones.

 

Finally, he was at the other side of the room. Looking around, he was dismayed to realize the man was no longer where he'd seen him. Standing on tiptoe, he tried to peer over the heads of the people nearby. For a moment he was certain he'd found the man and hurried toward him, only to discover the black coat belonged to one of the servers. He snatched a glass of champagne from the proffered tray, gulped down half of it, and after another attempt to find the man, gave up.

 

At that moment, Miranda joined him. She was flushed from dancing, smiling happily. "I'm having more fun," she announced. Leaning close, she whispered, "Gay men are the best dancers and don't require any sort of commitments."

 

Allyn laughed aloud. "Only when they're dancing with women."

 

"Speaking of which"—she grinned maliciously—"where's Liam? I thought I saw you with him."

 

"Meow," Allyn replied, making a clawing gesture with his fingers. "Honestly, Miranda, he's not that bad."

 

"You should know." She winked at him, then announced she was going to find something to eat.

 

"I'll come with," he replied, following in her wake.

 

By the time they'd reached the buffet table, Liam had joined them and the trio filled their plates with many of the delicacies on offer.

 

"Over there," Miranda said, pointing to a vacant bench along one wall. They made it there just before a couple bent on the same destination. Laughing, they sat, carefully balancing their plates while nibbling on small sandwiches, mini tarts, and bourbon balls, among other things.

 

Finally, having eaten enough, Allyn set his plate on the floor under the bench, leaned back, and surveyed the other guests. He knew he was looking for the man he'd seen earlier, but still, when he suddenly appeared not ten feet away, Allyn was shocked. He started to stand as the man looked directly at him, the gaze of his piercing slate-gray eyes meeting Allyn's own light brown. The man held up his hand to forestall him, then turned and vanished into the throng of dancers.

 

Allyn was on his feet seconds later, pushing his way through the crowd, ignoring protests from some of the people as he bumped into them.

 

Where are you? How can you disappear so quickly? And why do I care? He had no answer to the last question, only knowing he felt compelled to find the stranger.

 

At last he reached the far side of the ballroom. Ahead of him, the man strode forcefully toward the exit. Then, for an instant, he turned to look at Allyn. Allyn bit back a gasp as primal fear flooded him. He's evil. Pure evil. And yet… Shuddering, unable to take his gaze off the man, Allyn watched him walk through the doorway and out of sight.

Allyn and Ransom - 1

 

(First published in 2015. No longer available.)

"Are you as bored at you seem?" Miranda asked her brother.

 

"And then some," Allyn replied with a yawn, while he watched the crème-de-la-crème of New Orleans society dancing and drinking as if the masked ball was the foremost event of the season. Of course for most of them it was—being high society's late summer version of Mardi Gras excesses. Therefore, they spent lavish amounts of money on their costumes, trying to outshine everyone else in attendance.

 

Although, to be honest, Miranda and Allyn didn't scrimp on their costumes either.

 

Miranda was dressed in shades of lavender, the high collar of her gown trimmed in gold and deep red to match her headdress with its flowers and butterflies. If her décolletage had been any deeper, there would have been nothing left to the imagination. The amount of fabric in the belled skirt made up for that, the hem sweeping the floor for several feet around her.

 

Allyn, on the other hand, was somewhat less risqué. Also in shades of lavender, his full-sleeved, knee-length coat was accented with gold and red, flaring out from his trim waist. His deep red britches however, fit like a second skin, with dark lavender hose and matching shoes completing the outfit. He carried a gold staff, the companion piece to Miranda's wand. Their masks—reversing the colors of their costumes—were gold, heavily decorated with lavender and red gems.

 

"Madame, would you do the honor of dancing with me?"

 

Miranda fluttered her fingers against her collarbone as she studied the man who had asked. Then, with a curtsy, she allowed as how she would love to. He held out his arm, she placed her hand on it, and they melded into the throng of dancers in the center of the ballroom.

 

If he only knew… Allyn smiled with wry amusement, taking a sip from the champagne flute he was holding. Emptying it, he looked for the nearest server and saw a young woman with a tray of drinks a few feet away. Crossing to meet her, he set his empty glass down, taking a full one to replace it.

 

"Planning on getting drunk?"

 

Allyn turned to smile as his most recent lover joined him. "It's that or die of boredom, Liam."

 

"We could escape upstairs to one of the bedrooms and do something about that," Liam replied impudently.

 

"Perhaps later, once I know Miranda's in good hands."

 

Liam looked where Allyn pointed. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's Jacob Paget, so she's quite safe. His only interest in her would be as a dancing companion."

 

"For sure—if it is him. Where's Martin?"

 

"On a business trip, from what I heard. Probably planned so he wouldn't have to endure this—" Liam shuddered, "—this soirée."

 

"I think this is a bit more than a soirée," Allyn commented. "More like a dissipated distracting divertissement."

 

"How alliterative. Although I think divertissement has more to do with theatrical entertainment than a grand ball."

 

"Come now," Allyn retorted sardonically. "You don't think this is pure theater? Everyone dressed in costume, doing their best to enthrall the masses with their splendor?"

 

"Good point, and you're right." Liam slipped his hand under the slit at the back of Allyn's coat, squeezing his ass. "Now that we have that settled, let's see if we can find somewhere more private so we can explore what's underneath our costumes."

 

"You're incorrigible," Allyn replied with a laugh, lust replacing boredom. He checked on Miranda, glad to see she was still dancing with Jacob. Feeling it was safe to leave for a little while, he took Liam's hand and they exited the ballroom via the curving staircase leading to the upper floors of the mansion—and with luck, an empty bedroom.

Lessons Learned (Sequel to 'Hitman's Creed) – 20

 

 

Glenn took Joey's plate, setting it on the coffee table. “Come here.” When Joey did he put an arm around him, pulling him carefully against his chest. “It’s been a rough couple of days for you.”

 

“For both of us.”

 

“Yeah, but more for you. You’re not used to things like this as much as you think you are.”

 

“But I should be,” Joey protested. “I’m a cop, it… as they say it comes with the territory.”

 

“Not to deny what you said but you’ve only been a cop for a little under three years, in a small town where nothing really happens. That plus the fact you had to shoot someone, I think it’s catching up with you big time now that you’ve had a chance to think about it.”

 

Joey looked up at him. “Was it this bad the first time you killed someone?”

 

“Honest answer?” Joey nodded. “Not really, but then I was taking out one of the men who murdered my parents. All I could think of was getting my revenge.”

 

“Does it ever bother you? No, don’t answer that. I shouldn’t have asked.”

 

“Of course you should have, now that you’ve been through it.” Glenn gently stroked Joey’s hair. “Yes it’s bothered me but to be blunt, very rarely. I couldn’t have done what I did, been what I was, if I’d let it get to me. That sounds cold I know but it’s the way it was.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Now I’m doing it for the right reasons.” Glenn paused before saying. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the kind of man who lives to kill. I’m just very good at what I do. It’s… a talent I suppose. I can’t say I regret what I did in the past, although I probably should. It was a job and I did it, and made out quite well in the process. Damn, I’m beginning to sound like… like some sort of feral animal that should have been put to sleep.”

 

“A bit, yes.” Joey pulled away to look at him. “Sorry if that hit a nerve.”

 

“It did, but it’s still the truth.”

 

“The thing is, it was just a part of you, not the whole you. If it had been, you wouldn’t have helped us when my father showed up.”

 

“A weak moment maybe?”

 

“Not even! You said, later, much later, you’d already cut your ties with the people who would send you jobs. That was before you helped us.”

 

“I was old and tired of living out of suitcases.”

 

“Will you quit!” Joey moved back to rest against his chest. “You’re never going to convince me you were someone evil. I know better. Misguided maybe…”

 

“Misguided?” Glenn laughed. “I sort of like that description.”

 

“You know what I meant.”

 

“Yeah, I do.” Glenn kissed his forehead. “At least I saw the error of my ways so to speak, thanks to you. Now I’m all for truth, justice and the…” He chuckled when Joey clapped his hand over his mouth, pulling it away. “Okay, maybe that was a bit extreme. And how the hell did we get on this anyway?”

 

“Because I asked. I guess I needed to know that what I did was something I could learn to live with.”

 

Glenn cupped his face in his hands. “What you did was necessary. You not only saved my life, you probably saved the lives of all the people he would have been hired to go after had he gotten away. Don’t ever doubt your decision. It was the right one no matter what you may be feeling at the moment.”

 

“I know,” Joey said so softly Glenn could barely hear him. “I really do.”

 

Glenn kissed him gently. “You’ll be fine, I promise. But now I think we should head to bed. We’re both tired and drained and need to get some sleep.”

 

“Yes we do, you especially.” Joey sat back and shuddered. “You’re still wearing that shirt. They should have given you a pair of scrubs or something.”

 

“They offered, but…” Glenn shrugged and stood, holding out his hand. “Come on. You can get me out of my bloody shirt and the rest of it.”

 

“And tuck you into bed because for damned sure that’s all I’ve got the energy for.”

 

“What, you’re not going to ravage the wounded hero?”

 

Joey snorted as they headed to the stairs. “I doubt either of us is in a ‘ravaging’ mood at the moment.”

 

“Around you, I always am, but I think we’ll put it off until we’re well rested.”

 

“That works for me.”

 

                                                                The End

Lessons Learned (Sequel to 'Hitman's Creed) – 19

 

 

Several hours later, well after midnight, Glenn and Joey finally made their escape from the clinic and Chief Leades. The man Joey had shot had no ID on him. The car he’d been using this time had been reported stolen earlier in the day from a town a few miles south of them.

 

While they were at the clinic so Glenn could get checked over and stitched up, Joey went to check on Nate. He was asleep, as was Rory who was in a chair by his bed. Rory work up enough to tell Joey that Nate was going to be released in the morning.

 

“He had a slight concussion which is the only reason they’re keeping him here overnight,” he explained.

 

“Alright. Let him know I stopped by?”

 

“I will.” Rory put his hand over Nate’s, almost protectively before asking why Joey was there at such a late hour. Joey gave him a brief rundown on what had happened. When he finished Rory nodded. “At least we don’t have to worry about his coming after Nate again. That’s a relief.”

 

“I know,” Joey agreed. “Okay, I’ll see you both later I’m sure. Now I have to go get Glenn before he thinks I’ve left without him.”

 

Rory chuckled. “The day you do that is the day the earth stands still.”

 

Laughing, Joey headed back to find Glenn.

 

* * * *

 

Now they were both back at the house. Glenn had wanted to drive back on his own, with Joey following in his car, despite the fact he was dosed up on pain killers. Joey had put his foot down.

 

“Not happening. You’re in no condition to drive no matter what you think, and you know it,” Joey had told him in not uncertain terms.

 

“I would have been fine,” Glenn grumbled fifteen minutes later as he got out of the car.

 

“Probably, but I wasn’t going to take the chance,”

 

Glenn laughed tiredly. “I’ll admit I like that you’re concerned.”

 

“Of course I am!” Joey muttered, unlocking the front door.

 

“I know.” Glenn smiled, patting his shoulder as he followed him in and carefully sat down on the sofa.

 

“Nuh uh, up to bed.”

 

“No supper? We missed it in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

“More like breakfast time now. Don’t move and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 

He came back twenty minutes later with two plates of eggs, bacon and toast only to find Glenn sprawled across the sofa, asleep. Putting the plates down on the coffee table, Joey carefully removed Glenn’s shoes before going to get a blanket to cover him.

 

When he returned Glenn cracked one eye open. “So where’s my food?”

 

“Right here but you have to sit up because for sure I’m not feeding it to you.”

 

“I’m not feeling the love here,” Glenn wisecracked as he carefully sat up. Joey handed him his plate, frowning when he didn’t start eating. “This is not finger food, well the eggs aren’t at least,” Glenn pointed out.

 

“Ouch, yeah, hang on.” Moments later Joey was back with utensils, and two glasses of milk which he put down before sitting beside Glenn, his plate in his lap. He looked at the food, pushing it around but not taking a bite.

 

“Not hungry?” Glenn asked softly.

 

          Joey shook his head. “Not really I guess.”