Behind the Lens (Behind the Lives) (49 page)

“Which
is why I’ve sent someone to clean up that problem.”

“What
do you mean by that?!”

“By
your tone, I’m guessing you already know the answer.”

“You
better not have killed him!”

“He’s
not dead.” Craven smiled. “Yet.”

Ant
stalked over to his father. “You fucking call the hit off now!”

“Not
my fault your little music producer likes drugs.”

“What
are you on about? Jade’s clean, he won’t touch them.”

“That’s
not what the police will think when they find he’s overdosed.”

“Call
your men off!”

“It’s
irrelevant anyway, because he’s up and disappeared on us. You wouldn’t by
chance know where he could’ve gone?”

“If
I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Not
a very loyal son, now are you?”

“I
am loyal; I’ve tripled your income.”

“No,
all you’ve tripled is your ego, as well as risked my business over your
perversions.”

“Selling
Dante to Jade isn’t perverted.”

“I
wasn’t referring to that, and in fact it is.”

“Then
what?!”

“You
and under-age boys. You said that new kid was eighteen.”

“He
told me he was.”

“When
you lie you blink too much, and you’re blinking like crazy now.”

“That
means nothing!”

“It
is when Matty Pottinger is going after me for child pornography.
Child-fucking-pornography!” Craven spat out, his face going purple. “I’m a
respected businessman and you get my name linked to this!”

“Corey’s
legal for sex.”

“Not
for porn! So, fucking take care of him.”

“What
do you mean by that?”

“Stop
asking questions! You damn well know I want his head on my desk!”

“NO!
He’s mine!”

Craven
pointed a finger at Ant’s face. “Either you kill him or you’re out of here. I
won’t have you jeopardise my life over your sick perversions. I give you by the
end of the night.”

“I’m
not killing him! I love him!”

“Love?”
Craven looked incredulous. “What is wrong with you? You barely know the kid.”

“I
don’t care! I refuse to kill him.”

“Then
one of
my
men will.” Craven looked over at Mack. “Big Mack, it’s your
job.” Craven turned and walked towards the exit, his two guards following. “Be
in the gun range within five minutes,
son
,” he said, disappearing out the
door.

Ant
spun around on Mack. “You are not to touch Corey!”

Mack
held up his hands. “I don’t want to kill the kid either, but I’ve been given an
order.”

“You
work for
me
, so
I
give the orders. And if you touch Corey, I’ll
fucking kill you!”

The
man with the afro stepped in front of Mack. “He has no choice; it’ll be his
head if he doesn’t carry through.”

Without
warning, Ant head-butted the guy, sending him into Mack, who fell backwards,
both of them going down. The afro guy rolled onto his side, clutching his
smashed in nose. Ant stepped over him as Mack scrambled backwards, his face
terrified.

“I
won’t touch Corey,” Mack said, banging into the couch. “I like the kid, I do; I
don’t want him dead either.”

Ant
glared down at him. “You better be telling the truth!”

“I
am, I am.”

Ant
continued to stare at Mack, then swung out an arm, pointing to the guy with the
afro. “Take Dez to the main house, and, Dez,” he looked over his shoulder at
his victim, “if you say a word about any of this to my father, I’ll fuck you
till you bleed out of every orifice, then burn your remains. Understand?!”

With
his hands over his nose, Dez nodded, the man obviously in pain.

“Get
him out of here, Mack, and if I catch you even breathing near Corey, I’ll cut
your cock off, then jam it up your arse!”

“Yes,
boss,” Mack said, looking like he believed him. He helped his mate up and
shuffled the groaning man out of the cottage, leaving Dante alone with Ant.

Ant
walked over to him, making Dante back up into the wall, the man looking like he
could either fuck or kill him, Dante not knowing which was worse.

“Will
you kill my father for me?” Ant asked.

“Yes,”
Dante replied.

“How?”

“Gimme
a gun.”

“Be
more inventive.”

“I
don’t know what else to use.”

Ant
grabbed Dante’s cock. “That’s because this is your only weapon. You’re not a
murderer; you’re just a fuck-toy.”

“I’ve
killed before,” Dante said, barely able to get the words out.

Ant
started wanking him. “How?”

“Drugs
and... Oh God, please stop.”

“No,
and accidents don’t count.”

“It
wuzn’t an accident.” He tried to pull away, but Ant tightened his grip. “Ouch!
Loosen up, loosen up, that hurts.”

“I
know. Who was it?”

“I
ca-can’t say. Fuck! I can’t think. It hurts.”

Loosening
his grip, Ant started massaging Dante’s cock. “Why’d ja kill them?”

“She-she
begged me to.”

“Why?”

“She
had ovarian cancer.”

“Euthanasia
isn’t the same as killing someone in cold blood.”

“It
wuz the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I loved her with all my soul.”

“Fuck,
you have a harem of bitches—”

“She
wuzn’t a lover! She wuz my grandmother!” he blurted out.

Ant’s
eyes widened. “You killed your own grandmother?”

Dante
closed his eyes, upset he’d let it slip, and even more upset over remembering
what he’d done. “I didn’t have a choice; she wuz in agony, and it wuz
terminal.”

“Poor
baby.” Ant brushed his lips over Dante’s forehead, making Dante’s eyes shoot
open. Ant placed a hand over his mouth. “Ssh, don’t say a word. I like this
side of you, it’s sweet.”

Dante
kept still, although he wished his hands were free, so he could punch the shit
out of Ant.

“You
act all tough, but you’re not,” Ant said, “especially when it comes to women.
They twist you around their little fingers, make you do things you don’t want
to. I used to love watching Kara walk all over you, she had you pussy-whipped,
and unlike you, that bitch could slit someone’s throat in a second. I’d bet she
would even do it while fucking.” Smiling, Ant let go of Dante’s mouth. “Maybe
she
could kill my father.”

“Yeah,
she could, just as long as you stop the game,” Dante said, feeling hope.

Ant
unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard cock. “Use your mouth to convince me
some more.”

“I’m
not sucking you!”

“And
here I thought you loved Kara.”

“I
do.”

Ant
placed his hands on Dante’s shoulders and pushed him downwards, Dante resisting
him.

“Fucking
get down there, and do your job, bitch!” Ant snapped.

“I’m
not sucking you!”

Ant
yanked him around, planting him face first into the wall. “Then I’ll stick it
someplace else,” he said, pulling out a condom.

Dante
bucked against him. “NO!”

Corey
started yelling from the bedroom. “Leave him alone!”

Ant
stopped tearing open the wrapper. “You jealous, cutie?”

“No!
I hate your fuckin’ guts!”

“You
little shit!” Ant let go of Dante, and went for the bedroom door, stopping as a
ringing started. Swearing, he kicked the door, then pulled out his phone,
barking, “Yes?!” into it. He moved the phone away from his ear, looking like
someone had shouted at him, then threw it at Dante, who turned to run.

Ant
grabbed Dante as he reached the exit. “You can fight me all you like, but I
will fuck you,” he shoved him outside, “right after one of your bitches dies.”

28

Sledge

Sledge raced out to Nike with
Solomon close behind. “Where are Dante and Corey?!”

Nike
opened the car door and got out of the Maserati. “I already told ja where.”

“They’re
not upstairs, and I couldn’t see any cottage out back, so tell me where they
are!”

“Keep
your voice down,” Nike said. His attention snapped to Juliet, who was looking
around the corner of the garage. “Get back in there,” he growled.

“But
Dante—”

He
cut her off. “You can’t do shit to help him, but I can, so do as you’re told
unless you want a bullet in your head.”

“Don’t
threaten my sister!” Sledge yelled.

“I
didn’t; I’m trying to save her life, so shut the fuck up before you get all of
us killed.”

Sledge
exhaled, willing himself to calm down, but all he could think about was Corey
being touched by some perverted freak. “Where’s the cottage?” he rushed out,
getting worked up again.

“I
told ja, it’s out back.”

“But
there’s only a row of trees and a concrete building.”

“It’s
behind the trees.”

“Then
show me,” Sledge said, annoyed that Solomon hadn’t known that.

“Only
if you shut your piehole and do everything I say.”

Sledge
nodded, just wanting to get there.

Nike’s
gaze moved to Solomon, who took a step back, looking like he was going to piss
himself. “Watch Sledge’s sister; make sure she stays outta sight,” Nike said,
“and if anything happens don’t wait for us, get her outta here. Take the side
entrance.” He pointed off to his right. “The gate isn’t as high there, plus
they never have guards on it, cos it’s overgrown with brambles. Cover them with
your jacket.”

Solomon
nodded.

“You
got a gun?” Nike asked.

“No.
Saul said I’m not allowed one after Kara took mine.”

Nike
turned to the car and pulled out a gun from under the driver’s seat. He handed
it over to Solomon, then removed his hat and placed it on the guy’s head. “Sit
behind the wheel. From a distance no one will know it’s not me.” He pushed past
Sledge. “Let’s go,” he said, taking off, sprinting for the right side of the
house, the guy faster than Flash.

Sledge
ran after him, heading around the house. He came to a stop behind Nike, who had
his back against the wall, looking out over the whopping backyard with its pool,
manicured lawns, gardens, a row of trees on the left and the concrete building
off to the right.

“Back
against the wall,” Nike said.

Sledge
did as he was told.

“You
still got that gun I gave you?” Nike asked, pulling one out from his jacket.

Nodding,
Sledge did the same.

“Good,
you take the cottage, while I take the gun range. The only way into the cottage
is through the front. Take it slow; don’t rush inside, cos if Ant’s there he’ll
pro’bly have at least two guards.” Nike swore, then backed up, pushing Sledge
along with him.

“What
is it?” Sledge whispered.

“Mack’s
helping Dez walk to the house, he looks busted up. Stay here, I’ll get info
outta them.”

Nike
slipped his gun back into his holster, shook out his shoulders, then stepped
clear of the house and headed for the men. Sledge inched up the side, waiting a
second or two, then peeked around the corner. Nike and a man with half-baked
skin were helping a guy with an afro. They disappeared inside the house,
leaving the backyard empty again.

Sledge
rested the back of his head against the wall, feeling the vibrations of the
music coming from within, the place pumping. Cheering started up, making him
cringe, what he saw inside not something he ever wanted to see again. He stared
straight ahead, trying to get the image of the fat man paddling the redhead out
of his mind, because his brain kept telling him that it could’ve been Corey
lying across the pervert’s lap, tied up and terrified, crying out every time he
was hit... Stop it! No one was touching Corey. NO ONE!

He
poked his head around the corner, hoping to see Nike returning, but all he was
greeted with was the empty backyard. After a minute of willing Nike to appear,
Sledge laid his head back against the building again, repeating over and over
again that Corey was all right, that no one was hurting him. Dammit! It wasn’t
working, because that fat cowboy kept filling his mind, eating away at his
nerves.

He
glanced around the corner again, wondering why Nike was taking so long, since
all the guy needed to do was to help the injured man inside, then ask where
Corey and Dante were. But he must’ve been in there for at least five minutes by
now. Nike didn’t need that amount of time; he could’ve done it in a couple of
minutes at tops.

The
realisation of what was happening hit Sledge like a two-by-four. Nike wasn’t
helping him; he was finally getting payback. Shit! Why did he ever think he
could trust that prick? Nike had caused nothing but trouble for him since they
were in primary school.

He
pulled out his gun, glancing from left and right to make sure that no one snuck
up on him. He needed to get out of here before Nike returned with a pack of
guards. No. What he needed to do was to calm the fuck down, because maybe Nike
hadn’t double-crossed him. He breathed out, trying to get his shit together,
because his heart was racing faster than Corey on acid. Dammit! He was doing it
again, being a moron, fooling himself into getting the shit kicked out of him,
because if Nike hadn’t ratted him out he’d be here with him right now, and not
telling those guards inside where he was. And if he was being honest, he didn’t
blame the guy, because if he was in Nike’s shoes he’d do the same thing. No, he
wouldn’t, because he wasn’t a lying shithead, backstabbing bastard!

He
lifted the gun and sized up the yard again, knowing he needed to stop being a
chicken-shit and make a run for it. “I’m gonna kill that double-crossing
bastard,” he muttered.

“Lower
the gun,” Nike said from behind him, making Sledge jump. “I said, lower the gun,
Sledge.”

Sledge
tightened his grip on it, wondering whether this was it, that he would never
see his family again.

“Do
it now,” Nike hissed.

Sledge
slowly turned around, seeing a barrel pointed at his face.