Breakdown (26 page)

“There we go, there we go,” breathed Cutter, hand brushing my back as he reached up and undid the leather holding me still. It took me a moment to realise that Jeff had slipped out from underneath me and that he was now with Luke and Barry, over by the door.

Feeling the come tipped on me—I hit the wall once, twice, the third time stopped as Cutter pushed me into the wall, his body mass used to keep life still.

“I’ll fuck it out of you, I promise, kid. I fucking promise.” Cutter’s breathing was hard, heavy, stained with smoke as I cried out. The blade was back against my throat, the threat of its teasing stroke almost forcing another cry as I screwed my eyes shut.

“But you do something first,” whispered Cutter.

Eyes came open.

“That warehouse shit... there’s a copper breathing down my neck. Take care of him for me...” A hand stroked my dick, the knife flattened against it. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I swear. But this...” He kissed at my neck. “You fuck this necklace off that you’re wearing and put my chain back on first for me, clear?”

Having tugged my hoodie down, he pulled at my black rope necklace with his teeth, and I shifted slightly, uncomfortable with him fucking about with it.

“Easy,” mumbled Cutter. “Get that job sorted, I’ll ease this ache for you.” A stroke went to my cock and memories over a fucked-up necklace were well and truly forgotten. “We clear?”

“Fucking peachy clear.”

The Levington restaurant filtered down to its last few evening customers, the rich and bored having eaten well tonight. The old couple, who pushed out, left with satisfied smiles. The old man, barely looking able to push a bag about, held the door open for his wife, and I looked away into the darkness of Jeff’s car.

I’d had too much to drink and wasn’t daft enough to drink and drive as I sat fingering distractedly with my rope necklace; I knew cars well enough to know the mess they made of a driver who was stupid enough to end up pissed behind the wheel. So Jeff it was. He wasn’t happy, gaze just as wary on the darkness outside and the activity going on in the restaurant over the road. But every now and again he’d look over. Usually he wouldn’t have the bollocks to hold mine, and there’d certainly never been any little smirk behind it.

Watching the old couple walk down into the street darkness, I grabbed Jeff by the hair and pulled him over. “Problem?”

“Jah—no.” He tried to push away. “Just—”

Not even giving him the grace of a glance, I pushed him back over onto the driver’s side, then picked up a photo sitting on the dashboard. “This that Alan Shaw?”

Jeff mumbled a yeah as I looked it over for the fourth time. Alan had the typical police cuntstable look, pc uniform to boot, but there was a warm smile there, suggesting that this wasn’t taken for any formal bollocks.

“He’s started pulling some of Cutter’s kids in and asking questions,” said Jeff, although he was the third person to say that tonight, and this fucking repeating shit everyone seemed to be doing lately was making life itch a whole lot worse.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, elbow digging against the door as I rubbed at my head.

“You need—” started Jeff, then—“c’mere.” I jolted as a hand fumbled with the tie on my jogging bottoms. Life was still semi-interested down there, to cock-grabbing annoyance, and it was made a whole lot worse as Jeff came down and slipped my cock between his lips.

“Christ.” Hips bucked up, my own grip going into his hair and instantly keeping him still as I fucked his mouth there in the darkness of the car.

He felt damn good, using teeth and lip to make the ride rough, but no matter how good he was, how hard I made him take my cock, it wasn’t enough.

A hand on my hip pushed me back down into my seat, then Jeff let my cock slip from his mouth as he smiled up from the darkness. “Need the edge taken off, baby?” Something was slipped from his pocket, and a moment later, Cutter’s razorblade was pressed flat against my cock, Jeff wrapping his slender fingers around the handle and kept the threat close to my tip. “Fuck it, baby, you don’t need Cutter, not for this.” All of Cutter’s crew were given barber’s razorblades. This was Jeff’s; unused, the blade all new and sharp, knowing him.

The cool of the blade felt arctic against the heat of my cock. Feet flat on the floor, tugging my hoodie up off my abs so I could watch the ride, I fucked his fist, hips again up off the seat, just riding the threat.

“Yeah, c’mon, Jack. Fucking stunning. Take the edge off, and—fuck, shit—” hissed Jeff, trying to pull his hand away. His grip wasn’t tight enough, the blade not nearly threatening enough, and I’d gripped around both—fisting, fucking hand and razorblade harder. Jeff’s fingers were caught in the process and I let go with a cry, dropping the razorblade and ignoring how Jeff sucked at his cut fingers. In just a few seconds flat, he’d managed to piss me off more than Cutter.

“Fucking useless twat,” I snarled, covering my dick back up, giving it an extra squeeze to try and stop the aching. “Piss off back to Cutter’s; I’ve got no idea how long that fuck’s going to graze in there.” With a grab at Jeff’s smokes off the dashboard, I got out.

“Jack, c’mon—” whined Jeff, leaning over to stop the door from slamming. It was a moody, frustrated act on my part, and I hated how that smirk was back there in his eyes, despite how intermittently he sucked at his bleeding fingers. “I just want you to know, that, y’know, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I can give you what you need so you don’t need to rely on Cutter so much.”

“Jeff,” I said, leaning in and also taking the razorblade off the floor, “piss off. Now.”

As the engine started and did a wheel spin, bloody stupid considering it was only a Ford Fiesta, so it looked like a drowning kitten trying to do a big cat’s grouchy-ass manoeuvre, I held the razorblade by the handle, arm out wide trying to find something to wipe it on. Hankies were for old men, baby wipes for mothers, but clean. It needed to be wiped and—

“Fucksake.” Taking off my jacket, I wiped the blade on the inside and threw the jacket into the darkness. The blade was folded away and found my pocket just as the restaurant door opened over the street. Slipping behind a tree, I managed to hide out of sight as someone stepped out, saying his thanks to the waiter who held the door open.

Shaw was obvious even from this distance. He had a few pounds on me, taller too, basically the usual six-foot broad-shouldered pc look needed to get into the force these days. It would have been too much to expect the uniform to doubly make sure, but hey, get this shit over, I wouldn’t give a fuck over what he’d been wearing.

He’d been sitting by the window since he’d arrived. Considering his mouth hadn’t stopped moving long before the food arrived, it was safe to assume he wasn’t eating alone. Whoever it was stayed out of sight of the window, sat back in the corner. Again, so long as the pratt didn’t come out with Shaw, that was fine by me. Not that two were a problem, but I needed this done, and bloody quickly.

He took right, but instead of heading for the back car park where I’d assumed he’d parked his car, the pratt decided it was a night for walking. Fuck. Shifting my hoodie over my face, then digging hands into pockets, I followed. We took in two streets, taking us away from the late-night boozers stumbling out from clubs and pubs, and things began to settle inside a little as we lost the crowds. The lie was there to say it was because Shaw was on his own heading into no man’s land alone, there was even an alley up ahead to help his passage through, but mostly it was because... well... because... Social. Life was just better in the black and away from everyone.

Shaw managed to get a foot inside the dark piss-stenched alley before my shoulder shove made sure he stumbled in a good few feet more. A clip at his ankle took him down to the floor, letting out another startled grunt. Then it was Jeff on the floor. It had to be Jeff, because if I thought about it any longer, guilt would creep in. Jeff always managed to bounce back, then come for some lovin’ afterwards, so I could say sorry. And I meant it when I apologised. But soft Jeff was turning out to be a twisted little fuck, one who wanted to take away the crowd and fuck it over with a blade just like Cutter. Only he couldn’t, because he was a soft shit. So life and social, it pressed back in around my lungs, threatening to suffocate, and kicking the shit out of the pile of meat and rags on the floor became the only way to force breath—to fucking breathe.

Bloodied hands shook as Shaw covered his face. Bloody funny how he lay there, curled to his side, almost into me and trying to hug my legs, keep me still. Like a father trying to calm all the shit inside of a screaming teen. Quiet—so fucking quiet now. “Fucker,” I snarled, kicking at his face.

A wallet fell open on the floor, pushed farther away by Shaw as he tried to grab my legs again. Next to the police ID, a snapshot of family life was caught. He had a wife, or girlfriend. Wasn’t exactly a looker, too fat around the face, showing a deep scar on her cheek from where she’d scratched at chicken pox. But the young kid in the photo who sat on his dad’s shoulders next to her, he was cute, all smiling, the dad looking up, the boy looking down as little arms were held out wide in true aeroplane fashion.

“Please...” Nothing more than a whisper. “Stop...”

“Christ.” I groaned, nearly stepping back, then kicking him again for it. “Fucker, mother...” Not watching the mother... why not watch the fucking mother and—

“Stop, just—”

“—Fucking stop me,” I finished crying for him.

A shove sent me stumbling over Shaw, face-first into the concrete. I hit hard, but managed to control some of it at the last moment, hands going flat in amongst the dirt and damp of the alley. Giving a snarl, I was up almost in the next moment, snarling and trying to get the dust off, push back at whichever stupid shit had tried to play hero, but a strong grip on the back of my hoodie pushed me into the wall.

Cheekbone and forehead caught the worst, slamming into concrete and some graffiti artwork that had me staring at it before I was tugged round and held by my throat. Body was side on to mine, stopping me kicking the bastard in the bollocks, but that hand wasn’t playing nice either as it dug deeper into my windpipe.

“Dropped your coat back there, kid.” Blue. It’s all I saw. A blue diamond gaze took all light seeping into the alley, and it more than threatened to soak me up too. “Let’s help you get it back on. Get some warmth back into those bones, eh?”

A fist slammed into my side. Another came, then another, a fourth hard and fast run making me crash to my knees, grabbing at my ribs and crying out as a knee into them finished the job.

“Want me to stop?” whispered a voice. Then the floor came up pretty quick as another knee hit the base of my skull. This bastard knew how to take a guy down, where to hit, how to hit, and just the right pressure needed to get me to hug the floor in just a few seconds flat. “Try and make me, kid.”

The final kick to precisely the same place on my ribs forced life to blackout a touch. There wasn’t even time to fight back. When I came to, hands were being grabbed, a knee digging into the small of my back as metal cuffs were slipped in place. “Stay there,” said a voice, then the coat dropped on my head. “Stay the fuck down.”

The sound of polished shoe on dirt moved away, back over to where Shaw was groaning on the floor. The crackle of radio came over, then a quiet voice asking for an ambulance: cop down. Something else was said, the ruffle of someone being moved, or the scrape of jacket as it was placed under someone’s head. I couldn’t see; just listened as the darkness and weight of the jacket steamed up the stench of piss on the floor. But stay... like Christ would I—

A boot to my hip as I tried to edge away for the opening of the alley had me on my back, crying out as the coat was tugged off my face. “Not doing what I asked.” He crouched next to me and tugged my hoodie off, making me wince and groan against the onslaught of light, or car light in this case, as headlights lit up the darkness.

“This as good as you get, you little fuck? A hooded thug hitting someone from behind?” Hair was grabbed, forcing neck muscles to stretch. “And all up a piss-marked alley? Seriously?”

The steadiness of cool blue eyes swam in and out of focus again and a hand patted my face as a smile was given. “Stay with me, cop stunner.” The alley went dark again for a moment, then came back into sharp focus. “You one of Cutter’s? Is he the type to send a kid to do a man’s job? And you; he throws the bone and you fetch?”

I wanted to grab a hand around my hips, breathing came in short pants with how it hurt to draw breath, but mostly the fear was there in the grip that touched my throat, the thumb digging deep beneath my Adam’s apple to stop breath that already struggled.

“You and me. How about we go and have a nice, quiet chat.”

One dirty floor was exchanged for the light dust on polished tile of another, but the unwillingness to uncurl from the ball was something new. The booze had dulled some of the pain in the alley, but a few hours bliss in the oblivion of boozed-out sleep had kicked that away, bringing with it a thumping in my head that matched the white-hot pain in my ribs. The ache in my arms said my hands were still cuffed, but that feeling of not being alone itched a tune all of its own. And people... I hated social the more and more it left life bruised and battered around me.

“Hiding up in the corner now, kid?” A sigh, someone came over and grabbed at my arm. “Up.”

And I was tugged to my feet. Then it struck me why the floor was cold underfoot, why the cold bit into my shoulders and ass. I’d been stripped, jogging pants, hoodie, boxers, rope necklace—fucking rope necklace—they were all gone. No hiding, and naked—“Clothes.” There was a place to get naked, people to get naked with. This wasn’t one of them. “Where are my things you fuh—” A thump again at my ribs, exactly the same spot as all of the others had me crying out and doubling, mostly from the white-hot hurt, the rest—naked. This wasn’t the place to be without any clothes.

“Language,” said a voice, coolly, as I was forced up and into a stumble. “You say ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please’, but mind the fuck yous from now on. Understood?”