The Island (7 page)

He needed to get some space.

“You run?” Hanson asked that afternoon when he saw Shaw sitting on the bungalow steps lacing his shoes. The big man was running as well. His face was red, and his body streamed with sweat. He lifted his arm to wipe his sweaty forehead, and Shaw noticed the way his biceps bulged. The hair under his arms was matted with sweat. Not Shaw’s type, but he could see the appeal. And there were worse things he could do than make friends with the head of security.

Hanson looked just as intimidating in his sweats and joggers as he did in his black fatigues with a GLOCK. The man radiated physical strength.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Shaw asked.

Screw the heat, he needed the sense of clarity that only running brought him. A couple of laps up and down the beach would sort him out.

Running in sand reminded Shaw of home. He liked listening to the crunch and squeak of the sand under his shoes and having his own breaths drowned out by the noise of the ocean.

The sun was slowly sinking into the sea, blazing in its death throes and turning a narrow bridge of the ocean into molten gold. The breeze was cool, chasing away the last shreds of thin clouds. Tonight, Shaw knew, would be spectacular.

It took thirty-five minutes to do a circuit of the island. Shaw guessed that Hanson could do it faster, but he’d slowed down to match himself to Shaw’s pace. Shaw could do it faster as well, but screw it, it was hot, and he didn’t feel like wiping himself out completely. And he wanted to take in the view. They passed the other guest bungalows on the way, the jetty, the collection of low buildings on the far side of the island—storage sheds?—and the path that led up to the helipad and the main house.

Approaching Shaw’s bungalow again, Shaw invited Hanson to join him on the shade of the veranda. The big man agreed, and Shaw slipped inside to grab a bottle of water each.

He’d left Green-eyes kneeling on the floor by the bed because he had no idea what to do with him, apart from the obvious. And that was out of the question. The kid had fallen asleep while Shaw was out. He was lying curled up on his side as though he’d drifted off hugging his knees. One arm was out flung, stretched out across the grass matting. Shaw could see the bruises and the track marks on the pale inside of the kid’s elbow. It was probably the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen.

One of the puncture marks was bleeding. A fresh wound. Had someone been here when Shaw was out running?

He joined Hanson on the veranda.

They sat at the table. Shaw stretched his legs out. His muscles felt tight. It had been too long since he’d been on a decent run. He used a treadmill back in LA, and it didn’t give the same resistance as running on sand. Sand was a bastard.

“Have you dealt in art for long?” Hanson asked suddenly.

Was this an interrogation, Shaw wondered, or polite conversation? It had to be polite conversation. He’d worked hard to earn Vornis’s trust and had a lot of dealings with Hanson’s equivalent back in the States. He would never have made it this far if they were suspicious of him.

“I don’t deal in art exclusively.” Shaw leaned back in his chair. “I
facilitate
. I put buyers in touch with sellers, whatever the merchandise.” He took a swig of water. “I’ve been in business for about six years.”

“You must have started young,” Hanson said, looking him up and down.

Shaw got that a lot. It didn’t rankle. His reputation spoke for him. “I did.”

Hanson’s eyes gleamed suddenly. “Do you like the kid?”

Shaw smiled and tasted guilt. “Sure. What’s not to like?”

“Well, he’s docile now,” Hanson said. “Should have seen him at the beginning. He fought like a fucking animal.” A slow grin spread across his face.

Shaw didn’t even want to imagine it. He looked out at the ocean. “Sounds like you did all the hard work, and I’m getting all the benefits.”

Hanson laughed. “Hard work is its own reward!”

Shaw laughed as well and marveled at how natural it sounded. Jesus, he did business with some scary fuckers.

And he didn’t need to know this shit. It was bad enough looking at Green-eyes and seeing what he was. Shaw didn’t need to think about what he had been once and how hard he’d fought before they’d broken him. Eight weeks wasn’t a long time, not really, but for Green-eyes it must have felt like eternity.

“Want to see him perform?” Hanson asked.

Crap.

“Why not?” Lie down with dogs, Shaw thought, and you’ll get up with fleas.

Hanson rose from the chair and entered the bungalow. Shaw leaned in the doorway, absently tracing his fingers along the lines of the carved turtles on the post.

“Boy,” Hanson said.

Green-eyes flinched awake, drawing his arms protectively against his chest. He looked around, blinking his dazed eyes to try to focus, and hauled himself up on his knees slowly. He reminded Shaw of a newborn foal struggling to find its fragile balance for the first time.

Hanson winked at Shaw. When he spoke, his voice was pitched low. “Get over here, bitch.”

Don’t, Shaw thought, and it shocked him how close he came to speaking the word aloud. Focus. Watch. Smile.

The boy drew himself to his feet. Still hugging his chest, he scuffed his way across the grass matting on bare feet. He stood in front of Hanson and sank back down onto his knees without even looking up.

“What do you want, boy?” Hanson asked. His tone was severe, but he was smiling.

A shiver ran down the boy’s back. The thin scars on his flesh rippled. “Please, Mr. Hanson, please let me suck your cock.”

Shaw’s chest constricted. A perfect, coherent sentence, and it was a fucking travesty. He wondered how long it had taken them to beat that into Green-eyes. He forced a smile for Hanson’s benefit.

The boy looked up. He swayed on his knees slightly. He swiped his tongue across his lips. It might have been hot, Shaw thought, except for his eyes. He was out of it.

Hanson laughed and reached down to pat the boy’s head. The gesture was almost affectionate, but Shaw saw how Green-eyes tensed under Hanson’s touch; obviously, not all of their interaction was as gentle.

The boy swayed again. His flesh had taken on a grayish pallor.

Too sick, Shaw thought, too broken, and too drug-fucked. How the hell was Green-eyes still breathing?

Hanson clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Shaw’s expression was on the right side of lewd. “Thanks for the run.”

Hanson slid the door shut behind him.

Shaw wanted to lean against the wall, maybe sink to the floor. This was too fucking much. He’d known of Vornis’s proclivities for years, but at least Vornis had the decency to keep them mostly under wraps in LA. Apparently, on his own South Pacific island, he wasn’t as constrained, and neither were his men.

I know he’s a monster. I’ve always known. I just preferred it when he pretended to be a gentleman.

“Get up, boy,” Shaw said at last. “Get in the fucking shower.”

Shaw pulled the boy under the shower. “What drug do they have you on?”

Green-eyes squeezed his eyes shut as the water hit them. He was shaking.

Shaw pushed him back against the cubicle wall. “What do they have you on?” He pressed his thumb into the inside of the boy’s elbow, against the bruises and the track marks, and Green-eyes hissed. “What drug do they have you on?”

The boy shook his head. “Don’t know.”

“Someone came in here when I was out. Who was it?” Shaw asked him. He was half-afraid the kid would collapse and not get up. And half-afraid he wouldn’t. It would be the best thing for him.

The boy’s eyes flickered over Shaw’s face, to his throat, and lower. They widened. His jaw worked, but no sound came out of his mouth.

Shaw tightened his grip on the boy’s elbow. So he had a hard on. Of course he had a hard on. He was naked, in a shower with a hot young man who was also naked. Didn’t mean he’d do anything about it. “Look at me. Focus.”

The boy frowned. He dropped his chin onto his chest. Rivulets of water ran off the end of his nose.

Shaw slipped a hand under his chin and tilted it back up again. “I need to know who came in here.”

What he needed to know was whether or not they’d tried to hack his laptop. Then he had to decide if Vornis was being cautious or paranoid. Both could be dangerous, but Shaw would take cautious any day, thanks. Paranoid, in Vornis’s world, translated so quickly to homicidal.

Shaw slid his thumb along the kid’s jaw. “Focus, Green-eyes.”

Those brilliant green eyes widened, and a shudder ran through the boy’s body.

“It’s Lee!” he gasped. “My name is Lee!” It sounded as though he’d ripped it from a place deep inside him. It opened the floodgates. His face contorted, and he began to struggle. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

Shaw was stronger. He held the boy by his shoulders and got a leg between his to anchor him. “Calm down. Just calm down, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. Just calm down.”

Shaw wondered how it would feel to say Lee’s name aloud.

Dangerous, Shaw, it would feel fucking dangerous.

Lee tried to push him away.

Shaw slid his hands down Lee’s arms, gripping his wrists and pinning his arms up above his head. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. You remember that, right?”

Lee shook like a leaf. He nodded, but a small whimper escaped his throat.

“If I let you go,” Shaw said, “you have to promise you won’t fight me. Promise?”

Lee nodded again, more slowly this time.

“There are cameras in the bungalow,” Shaw said. “I don’t know if they have sound or not, but we’re not going to risk that, are we?”

Lee nodded again, eyes wide.

“We can talk in here,” Shaw told him. “This is the only place we can talk. Fuck, I hope you remember some of this tomorrow, because I don’t want to go through this shit every day.”

All the fight had gone out of Lee. Shaw thought if he released him, he’d just slide to the coral floor.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Shaw said. “But Vornis has given you to me for the week. He’s just a good host that way.”

Lee shuddered.

Shaw leaned closer. “So this is the deal. We act the fucking part. You with me?”

Lee was breathing heavily now. “Why are you different?”

“Not everyone’s a fucking rapist,” Shaw told him. “Instead of asking questions, you could shut your mouth and be grateful.”

Lee nodded again.

“What’s your last name?” Shaw asked him.

He stumbled over that a bit. “
Um
, Anderson. Lee Anderson.”

“And what are you?” Shaw asked him. He shook his head as confusion washed over Lee’s face. “What government are you with? What agency? What were you doing in Colombia?”

Lee paled. “I don’t remember.”

“You try,” Shaw said, carefully releasing his grip on Lee’s wrists. He was surprised to see Lee kept his arms above his head. He’d been trained well. And what the hell was wrong with Shaw? Despite everything he’d just told the kid, he wanted to take advantage of that. Lee just looked so vulnerable like that, so sweet, that Shaw wanted him. He pulled his thoughts away with difficulty. “You try, you tell me, and when I’m off this island, I’ll get a message to your people.”

Shit! Where the fuck did that come from? Keep it together, Shaw
! He scowled.
Information is currency, and you’ve just handed the kid a blank fucking check! Better cross your fingers he doesn’t blurt that out to Vornis.

Shaw was gambling on the fact that Vornis didn’t like his toy to make any noise except cries of pain.

Big fucking gamble, Shaw.

Lee closed his eyes. “I don’t remember. Oh God.”

“But you say anything to Vornis, and I’ll kill you myself,” Shaw told him harshly.
Right before Vornis kills me
. “Understand?”

Lee nodded. “Thank you.” He opened his eyes again. “Thank you.”

Thanked for a death threat; that was new. The pathetic look in the kid’s eyes made Shaw regret even trying. The kid was probably going to die here anyway. It would have been better if he’d been resigned to it. The last thing Lee Anderson needed was hope. That would just give Vornis one other thing to destroy.

“It’s okay,” Shaw said. He could feel his cock pressing into the boy’s hip. It was high time he stepped back. Shame Lee’s skin felt so good against his. Shame he liked the heat and the friction. Shame he liked the way Lee just stood there, arms above his head just waiting.

“Thank you,” Lee murmured again. He tilted his chin forward and brushed his wet lips against Shaw’s. The gentle contact coursed through Shaw’s veins like electricity, and went straight to his balls.

Jesus!

Shaw stepped back to get some space between them. Some space and some fucking room to breathe. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Wanted to,” Lee murmured, closing his eyes again.

“No, you didn’t,” Shaw said, turning his back on him and reaching for his shampoo. “It’s the drugs, and it’s something they beat into you. Get out, and go and wait by the bed.”

He heard Lee’s feet crunch in the coral.

Shaw looked up at the sky. The stars were just beginning to appear.

Shaw lathered his scalp roughly and then stuck his head under the jets.

It had been a mistake, probably, telling the kid what he intended. But he had to offer something, something that would cut through the kid’s drug-addled brain and stick there, something that would buy his silence and convince him to play along. It was a risk, but Shaw had taken plenty of those before. He just wasn’t sure this time why he’d done it. He didn’t owe anything to the kid.

Shaw sighed. No, he knew exactly what had happened. The kid wasn’t some anonymous victim anymore. He had a name: Lee Anderson. And once a thing had a name, Shaw knew from his experience with Molly, you had to at least try to help it.

Shaw wished he’d never seen Lee Anderson. He wished Vornis hadn’t trusted him enough to show off his little toy. But he had, and now it was too late. Against all his better judgment, Shaw was involved.

He stood under the jets until the water ran clear and then turned off the shower and reached for his towel. The worst part of the deal, he supposed, was the fucking peepshow. It would have been all right if he could have just ignored the boy and got him to sleep on the floor. That was safe. But no, he had to crawl between his thighs and jerk himself off inches from the boy’s asshole. The week was going to be torture.