Blood Howl (7 page)

Jed had climbed into a pair of loose, black sweats and a white tank that left very little to the imagination. Even though Redford had just gotten a very good look at what was underneath, he still found himself staring at the ridges outlined under the thin fabric, at the way his arms moved when he reached for the ball. Redford was sure that, in comparison, he looked like an awkward, lanky dork wearing a potato sack. “Ready?” Jed was asking, grinning, bouncing on his heels. “This is going to be great.”

“I’m ready,” Redford confirmed. “Just… are you sure it’s okay? That I’m going outside with Fil trying to get me?”

“Sweetheart,
I’ll
be with you.” Jed flashed him that smirk, like he was so sure nothing could touch him. “’Sides, just because I’m on protection detail doesn’t mean I’m going to sit around on my ass all day. Getting out will do us some good. Get the blood flowing, all that.”

They walked there, the few blocks past graffiti-marked walls and stores with bars on the windows. Every time Redford chanced a glance in Jed’s direction, it seemed as though the other man was doing the same to him. He caught Jed staring at his arms, at his chest, even once glancing behind him slightly, like there was something on his back. Maybe he really did look ridiculous in these clothes. Or maybe he’d sat on something, and there was an unsightly mark on the seat of the pants? That was the only way Redford could think of to explain the looks.

The gym was empty when they arrived. Several people were in the room next door. Redford could see them through the half wall of windows, working out on machines, lifting weights and such. There was a track around the outside of the floor, marked clearly, but no one was running at the moment. It all was a little faded, a little run down, but obviously cared for. It was a riot of scents, so much so that Redford had to stop in the middle of the room, eyes closed, trying not to get completely overwhelmed. His house only smelled like his house. Jed’s place only smelled like Jed. This place was chaos.

“I love this place,” Jed murmured. He’d come to a halt next to Redford, their shoulders almost touching, as Jed watched him take it all in. “Don’t know why. It’s a shithole, mostly, but every time something breaks we all chip in to fix it. Kids come here after school, dick around, shoot hoops or whatever. It’s nice to have something belong to the whole neighborhood.”

Redford nodded a little, appreciating the anchor of Jed beside him. This was why he didn’t go outside often. There was too much of everything outside. Too many sounds, too many scents. “It’s nice,” he ventured, and it really was. It might not be his cup of tea, but the idea of something belonging to a community sparked a yearning in him, a hope that he, too, one day might be part of something like that. If he ever got up the courage to face the world regularly.

He rolled the basketball in his hands, thinking. It was years back, but Redford could still remember the way the kids used it. Experimentally, he threw it at the ground, intending to catch it when it came back up. Unfortunately, it bounced off at an angle and away from him, leaving Redford watching in confusion as it rolled into a corner. He chased after it, picked it up, and tried again, with the same result.

Basketball was a lot harder than it looked.

“You’ll have to teach me how to play,” Redford admitted. When he turned back to Jed, he found the man standing there where he’d left him, a strange smile on his face. It wasn’t the usual one, the charm and the confidence and the wink-nudge of a man hiding behind them. This was softer. Tender, almost.

Without a word, Jed reached out to him, drawing him in, so gently, almost like he was afraid. With his fingers hooked behind Redford’s jaw, he brought him closer, until their lips touched in the barest breath of connection. Redford had never seen fireworks, but he’d heard them described once. The description seemed strangely similar to the burst of sensation low in his stomach, the excitement that tripped his heart an extra beat. Jed was kissing him again, and it might have been the most amazing experience Redford had ever known.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not involved in basketball,” Redford said quietly, wishing the ball wasn’t trapped between them. He was smiling at Jed though, the expression still feeling strange on his face.

“You calling foul on me, Fido?” Jed half laughed, voice a husky rumble that shot straight through Redford. He had turned around until Jed was pressed to his back, and the other man wrapped his arms around Redford’s, showing him how to hold the ball. Dribbling was first, slow and steady, Jed’s instructions a reassuring murmur in his ear. Eventually, Redford had figured out how to bounce the ball in a way that didn’t send it flying off in the opposite corner of the room. Jed was a fantastic teacher, even if Redford was quite distracted by the warmth of him at his back.

Shooting was next. Again, Jed was pressed firmly against him, arms underneath his, showing him how to hold the ball before he aimed it at the basket. It took some trying, Jed’s quiet laughter a warm puff of air against the back of his neck, until finally they managed to get the ball through the hoop. While Redford froze, a little amazed that he’d actually succeeded, Jed cheered, arms in the air, jogging around the court.

“And that, ladies and gentleman,” he bellowed to an invisible crowd, “is how it is done!”

Grinning, laughing, Jed bounced back to Redford, arms wrapping around him and spinning them both around. Redford just tried not to get dizzy, but he smiled back at Jed, almost edging into a grin. He swore he might actually be showing teeth. Jed’s enthusiasm was utterly contagious.

“I scored a goal?” Redford felt fairly pleased with himself, even if his next attempt failed utterly. Well, he’d scored
one
. That was enough of a victory for today.

“A basket, sweetheart,” Jed corrected him with a grin, catching the ball when it rebounded from the backboard and passing it to him. “And yes, yes you did. Even managed a nice circle around the rim.” A flash of teeth, a smile hidden in his words, and Redford was pretty sure he was missing the joke, there. “Gotta love a rim job.”

He passed the ball back to Jed—who just laughed when Redford gave him a quizzical glance—and they spent some time chasing each other around the court. Jed even pretended not to notice when Redford stumbled occasionally as he ran, which he was grateful for. Grace wasn’t exactly something he was known for. He wasn’t sure how much time passed; he definitely wasn’t counting the minutes.

There was an old saying, that time flew when one was having fun, and now Redford could say with confidence that it was true. Basketball was, strangely, turning out to be enjoyable. Although watching Jed was the real highlight—Redford’s eyes caught on the flex of his muscles as he passed the ball, the satisfied grin he gave when he scored. His own potential skill at the game was somewhat undermined by his constant distraction. They were in a public place, and the client that had hired Jed could show up at any minute, realistically, but Redford felt safe. Protected. Like it was no big deal that he was a target as long as Jed was by his side.

By the time people started trickling into the gym, runners around the track, a pickup game at the other end of the court, both Jed and Redford were sweating and smiling and aching in a really good way. Ruffling his hand through Redford’s hair, Jed nodded toward the sidelines. “Come on, let’s get food. I know this great cart a couple blocks from here. They have a breakfast burrito to die for. You liked sausage, right?” He was laughing again, at some joke Redford didn’t get.

Redford was smiling absently as they left the gym, the basketball tucked under his arm once again. The morning crowd was beginning to pick up, though, and the smile faded fairly fast. There may not have been a lot of people around right then, but Redford still hid behind Jed as they walked.

There was a man standing next to the cart when they arrived, and Redford didn’t think anything of him at first. He only saw him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze automatically sliding over him and the plain clothes, only looking back once he noticed the man looking at him. It wasn’t a polite look-and-then-look-away, either. It was a stare.

Though it was strange, Redford decided it probably wasn’t threatening. Jed handed him one of the breakfast burritos he’d talked about, and Redford almost took a bite, except there was another man across the street, staring at him, just like the other. He could just be being paranoid, Redford told himself. He wasn’t used to people looking at him at all, let alone staring.

“Jed?” Redford tugged on his shirt slightly, nervous, trying to get Jed’s attention. “I think there’s—I think people are watching me.”

“Yup,” Jed replied blandly, a big bite of the burrito making him difficult to understand. “Three guys to the right, one to the left, and maybe two in that alley, though that could just be a couple of bums. Bums are people too, Red, don’t you forget it.” They were walking again, crossing the street, Jed’s shoulder firm and warm against his. “When I tell you to, babe, you’re going to have to duck.” His voice was so calm, conversational. Redford didn’t know how he was doing that. “Got it?”

Their feet hit the sidewalk, moving away from people, from Jed’s apartment. It didn’t make sense until Redford realized that Jed, seemingly aimlessly wandering, had managed to get them away from innocent bystanders and the certain trap of the alleys. He kept his hand firmly attached to Jed’s shirt, not wanting to lose him.

“The posts there,” Jed nodded toward the pier closest to them. “They go deep. If you got under the pier and hung on, it’d be real easy to just stay there for a minute.”

Nothing changed. Not that Redford could smell, not that he noticed. They’d reached the docks, the lake lapping quietly against the piers, and everything seemed just as calm as the moment before. But between one step and the next, Jed reached out to shove him firmly off of the side and into the cold lake below.

The shock of the freezing water hit him like an anvil, and for a long few seconds Redford couldn’t tell which way was up. All he could hear were his own panicked movements and other strange noises, like muffled bangs. Gunshots. Fear leaped into the back of his throat, bitter and sharp, as he struggled to get his head above water. There, one of the posts Jed had talked about, under his hands.

He couldn’t breathe. He’d never learned how to swim, and the only time he’d been surrounded by water was in his shower. Redford watched, lightheaded, as his hands wrapped around the post, trying to use it to climb up, heart thundering in his chest. He really hoped he didn’t die here.

No. He wouldn’t die here. He just needed to reach the surface.

The gunshots were so much louder when his head broke above the water with a desperate, gasping breath, and Redford flinched away from the noises, trying to figure out what was happening. He didn’t know if Jed was okay, if he was even still alive. He’d assume that Jed was still alive as long as they were firing, but the men could be aiming at him, too. An assumption that was proven right when a bullet shot through the water next to his arm.

It seemed to go on forever, the smell of blood sharp in the air. Redford clung to the post as best he could, trying to see what was going on, but he was under the dock, and his view was hindered. He dazedly wondered what became of the breakfast burritos they’d ordered. He recalled dropping his. Jed’s basketball too, he’d lost that. Jed was going to be so mad at him.

A body splashed in the water next to him, a man’s eyes staring at nothing before he sank, blood coloring his descent. The next splash was alive, arms reaching out to grab him, and Redford twisted around, trying to get the pole between him and the attacker, before a familiar rough voice broke through. “Fido,” Jed was barking at him, shaking him. “It’s okay. It’s me, okay? Just me. You hurt? God, sweetheart, tell me you’re not hurt.”

It took a moment for it to sink in. Clinging to the post, shivering, Redford stared at Jed, fear etched into his face. Blood was streaking down Jed’s arm.

“No, I’m—” Redford shook his head, wet hair in his eyes, trying to talk through the shivers. “I—I’m fine.” He
was
fine, if freezing cold. Those men had probably been sent by the client to get him, and Jed had protected him. “I’m so sorry. I lost your ball.”

Jed’s fingers were combing back the soaked tangles of his hair. They were treading water—more accurately,
Jed
was, supporting him easily. “The… Jesus, fuck, I don’t care about the goddamn ball,” he murmured, half hysterically, running his hands along Redford, frantically checking him for injuries. “I’m so sorry.” Jed’s face creased in worry, nothing hidden now behind slick smiles or smug masks. “There wasn’t time for anything else. I was trying to get us to better ground, but they had us surrounded.” It seemed as though Jed hadn’t even noticed the gash in his left arm, the one that was bleeding brilliant streaks of red down his skin.

They were moving toward a ladder leading out of the water. At Jed’s urging him to go first, Redford shakily climbed out, still taking in heaving, grateful breaths of air. He was never going to go swimming again. Jed climbed out after him. Redford wondered if they’d have to run anywhere right away.

“You’re bleeding,” Redford pointed out, wrapping his arms around his chest in a futile effort to get warm. Redford was hardly an expert on bullet wounds, but it looked like one had grazed Jed, high on his shoulder. He didn’t know how Jed could be ignoring that. He went through agony every month on the full moon, and he didn’t bear it nearly as well as Jed did.

“Yeah,” Jed agreed, distracted. Dazed, not quite absorbing what he was seeing, Redford looked over to their right. Off the pier, on the ground, there were bodies. Several of them. Guns too, lying strewn about like discarded pop cans. Jed moved to one of the corpses and unceremoniously stripped off the long jacket the man had been wearing, probably to conceal weapons. Drawing Redford in closer, Jed overlooked his own wet hair, the fact that his skin was covered in goose bumps, to wrap the coat around Redford’s shoulders, briskly rubbing his arms to get him warm. “Are you okay?” he asked again, searching Red’s expression. “You sure?”