Children of the Knight (68 page)

“Please!” Lance begged, tears leaping unbidden to his eyes. “Leave him alone! Please. Hit me instead. I’m the one you always wanted anyway.”

Ramirez chuckled emotionlessly. “Once upon I time I believed you could be of use to me, Pretty Boy. Not now. Not since you’ve acquired your
boy
friend over here.”

The blood drained from Lance’s face, and he nearly cussed the man out.
Control, Lance
, he whispered to himself,
control.
He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my
best
friend.”

Ramirez smiled wickedly. “My sources tell me you’ve been quite chummy with this disgusting faggot, and that makes you no better.”

“He’s not a faggot,” Lance said evenly, struggling to maintain control. “A faggot is a stick of wood. He’s a boy, and he’s my friend.”

Ramirez shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Pretty Boy. A stick of wood is worth more than all the faggots in the world. If I had my way I’d line them all up and shoot ’em! So don’t push your luck if you want your boyfriend to live.”

The chilling, matter-of-fact tone of voice terrified Lance, and Jack too. The man really meant what he said. For the first time since Mark disappeared both of them felt genuine fear, only this time it was fear for their own lives.

Ramirez adjusted the lapels on his tailored Italian suit and ran one hand through his slicked back hair, composing himself and regaining control.

“Now then, Pretty Boy, here’s the deal. I’m going to crush your King Arthur and his infantile movement, and you’re going to help me.”

Lance shook his head vehemently. “Never.”

Ramirez leaned in and planted his face right in front of Lance’s, causing the boy to squirm. “You really believe that man cares about you?”

Lance nodded. “Arthur loves me.”
Does he?

Ramirez stood and laughed mockingly. “Like all adults, he loves what you children can do for him. You’re nothing more than a tool, a means to an end for him.”

Lance glared defiantly. “That’s not true. He loves me. Check my phone. I bet you’ll find a grip of messages he sent.”
I hope!

Ramirez nodded. “Mr. Lee?”

Lee reached onto the desk and plucked up Lance’s cell phone, deftly tossing it to Ramirez.

“This your phone?” He held it out to Lance.

Lance nodded, praying Arthur hadn’t given up on him, praying that Jack and Lady Jenny were right.

You should’ve responded to his other texts, fool!

Ramirez opened the text messages and eyed them without expression. There were ten messages from Arthur, all begging Lance to call him. The last one read: “My dear Lance, I truly think of thee as my son, and I love you more than anything. Return to me, please. I need you.”

Deftly masking his movements so neither Lance nor Jack could see, Ramirez subtly tapped the “Select All” key and then slipped his thumb over the word “Delete.” Arthur’s messages vanished without a trace into the nothingness of cyberspace. Ramirez shook his head, affecting a look of mock sadness. He held the phone out in front of Lance.

The boy’s heart sank. Nothing. No messages. Had he been forgotten after all? If so, R. might as well kill him now, because there was nothing left to live for. He lowered his head in sorrow. He
wasn’t
worthy, after all.

Ramirez shook his head, affecting a look of pity. “What did I tell you, eh? Now that you see who your
real
father is, will you help me?”

Lance glared up at him. “You’re not my father, and I’ll never help you!”

“As you wish.” Ramirez nodded.

The young Asian hauled off and slugged Jack hard again to the face, this time to the other cheek. The boy’s head snapped over and searing pain lanced through his face and down his back. Jack nearly lost consciousness but still didn’t cry out. He gritted his bloodied teeth and fought the queasiness.
Lance… have to protect Lance….

“No!” Lance screamed, fighting and twisting against the rope binding him. More tears welled in his eyes as Jack’s head lolled to one side. His friend looked semiconscious, and Lance’s heart shattered at the sight, his breath tight in his throat.

“Well?” Ramirez said, turning to drive his soulless gaze into Lance’s eyes.

Lance dropped his head in shame. “What do you want me to do?”

“No, Lance!” Jack rasped, spitting out blood in the process, shaking his head emphatically. “Don’t help him!”

Lance locked eyes with those of his best friend. “They’ll kill you if I don’t.”
And I can’t lose you!

“I don’t care!” Jack insisted, eyes burning with determination. “The needs of the whole company, remember?”

Ramirez eyed the exchange curiously.

Lance shook his head in defeat. “I can’t let them hurt you any more.”

“A wise decision, Pretty Boy,” Ramirez said with a smirk.

“My name is Sir Lance,” the boy responded in a clear, but nonchallenging voice, fixing his blazing green eyes on Ramirez’s amused face.

Ramirez actually laughed at that. “Oh yes, of course. He wants to be
Sir Lance
now, Mr. L. What do you think of that?”

Lee just shrugged again. He left all the torture and dirty work to Ramirez. As long as the money kept rolling in, he didn’t care about this sort of thing.

Ramirez turned back to Lance. “Very well, then,
Sir
Lance.” The voice oozed sarcasm. “I happen to know that something big is going down tonight. What is it?”

That was news to Lance. He just shook his head, mystified. “I don’ know.”

Ramirez nodded to the young Asian, who raised his fist toward Jack yet again. Jack didn’t even flinch; just mad-dogged the man and his fist.

“I’m not lying!” Lance called out, and the movement of the fist stopped. “I haven’t been there in a couple of days. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Ramirez gazed long and hard at him and then shrugged. “I don’t believe you.”

He nodded again, and the young Asian prepared to strike Jack.

“He’s telling the truth!” Jack shouted before the fist could fall, eyes glaring with contempt at Ramirez.

Ramirez waved the Asian away. “So, the faggot speaks. Tell me,
faggot
, why should I believe a disgusting pervert like you?”

Jack spit out more blood and returned his furious gaze to the man standing before him. “Because it’s true. Lance wasn’t there when Arthur made those plans, but I was.”

Jack knew this was a gamble, but he had to take the heat off Lance. He didn’t honestly care if they killed him or not. If he died, at least he and Mark could be together.
But he had to save Lance at any cost….

“Jack!” Lance shouted out in horror, knowing exactly what his friend was doing. “Don’t worry about me.”

Ramirez chuckled again. These boys and their loyalty to one another—so misguided, so naïve. “So, queer boy, tell me what he’s planning.”

Jack shook his head insolently. “No fucking way. You may as well kill me.”

“No, Jack!” screamed Lance, fighting and struggling against his bonds, terrified for his friend. “He
will
kill you! Please!”

Jack just shook his head defiantly.

Ramirez smirked. “Very well.”

Now he nodded to the other young Asian. With lightning precision and speed, the man hauled off and pounded a sledgehammer fist right into Lance’s gut before he even knew it was coming. He doubled over as pain ripped through him, the air pumped instantly from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he mentally thanked Jack for the incessant crunches the older boy had made him do, for he was sure they’d saved him from permanent damage.

“No!” Jack shrieked in anguish as Lance gagged and spluttered and fought to sit up straight. “Don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him!”

Ramirez chuckled again. This was turning out to be more fun than he’d anticipated. “I love to hear faggots beg, don’t you, Mr. L.?”

As always, Lee maintained his deadpan expression. He didn’t answer because he knew one wasn’t expected.

Ramirez turned back to Jack and grinned. “Well?”

Jack knew he’d fucked up. His plan had backfired. They wouldn’t kill him if he didn’t talk, but they would kill Lance. He couldn’t let that happen.
Anything
but that. He detested himself for being weak, but he
had
to protect Lance. With Mark gone, Lance had become his everything, almost his only reason to live, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for that boy. He sighed with defeat.

“Arthur’s got a big operation going down against a bunch of crack houses and meth labs around town.”

Now Ramirez lost his grin and took notice. “Which ones?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.” Ramirez frowned. “Really, I don’t! I was out looking for Lance when they settled on targets, and I’m not part of any team. I swear it. That’s all I know.”

He glanced over at Lance, who stared back uncertainly, his breathing ragged and raspy.

Ramirez paced a moment as he digested this information. “Okay, so we warn our people. What was Arthur planning to do after this operation?”

Jack shrugged, pain from his battered midsection causing him to grimace. “I don’t know exactly, but he was gonna be at City Hall to call out the mayor on something. That’s everything I know.”

He lowered his head in shame. He was a snitch, now, too, in addition to being the worthless faggot his father and this man had called him. Could he sink any lower?

Ramirez nodded, exchanged a silent look with Lee, and then casually rubbed his fingers across his chin, as though contemplating something. In fact, he was. He wanted both boys looking at each other for this next statement, the most crucial one of all. He wanted them wondering what he was up to.

“I have heard a rumor that so long as Arthur holds Excalibur he cannot be killed.” Both boys involuntarily flicked their eyes up to Ramirez and then just as quickly down to the floor. Ramirez chuckled. “I see you have too.”

Lance looked up and fought to meet the man’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ramirez merely laughed hollowly and nodded. “I may have use of you both later, for negotiation purposes if the plan I’m forming in my brilliant mind doesn’t quite come off. For now, your lives remain yours.”

He nodded to the two young Asians, who quickly set about untying the ropes that bound the boys to their chairs. “Put them in the holding tank for now,” he instructed and watched as Lance and Jack, hands still bound behind their backs, were pushed and shoved from the office.

Lee stepped forward. “You have a plan?”

Ramirez nodded. “Have your boys ready, Mr. Lee. The best you have. I’m going to call in Santiago.”

Mr. Lee actually smiled.

T
HE
holding tank turned out to be a small bathroom with a stainless steel sink and toilet, but no windows and no furniture. Their hands untied just outside the door, Lance and Jack were summarily tossed into the room like bags of garbage, and the door slammed shut behind them. A lock clicked, and receding footsteps came to their ears.

The boys lay sprawled on the tiled floor. Lance had landed on top of Jack, who lay pinned beneath him groaning in pain. Jack tried to make light of his discomfort by grinning through bloodied lips. “You trying to seduce me, Lance? I think it’s working.” He tried for a laugh but winced instead.