This is a work of fiction; all the resemblances are completely accidental. I am the one who owns all the ideas and characters in the story. Contains violence and descriptive sexual scenes between two males. If you are not supposed to read it, don't do so. Feel free to e-mail me with praises or insults (former preferred).
- XXIV -
Desmond rang the doorbell and tapped his foot on the welcome mat impatiently, waiting for the door to open. It finally did and Gabriel blinked in surprise when he saw the person behind that door.
"Sam!" he said.
Sam LeVoughn froze when he saw Desmond. Then his eyes shifted to Rayhe and he blinked finally.
"Gabriel..." he muttered. "What are you..." he looked at Desmond again, as if trying to figure out how in the world these two know each other. "Do you want some sort of a payment?" he asked finally, staring at the assassin, his eyes huge, voice tight.
"In a manner of speaking," Desmond hemmed.
Sam's eyes darkened and fingers on the door tightened their grip so much that his knuckles turned white.
"Do you have a car, kid?" Desmond asked casually, as if not noticing his reaction. Sam blinked several times.
"A car...?" he repeated in confusion. "Umm... Yeah, I have a car... Why?"
"I might need your help," the assassin nodded. "Let's get inside, shall we?"
Sam slowly stepped aside, letting both men to come in. He shut the door, puzzled frown getting deeper on his forehead.
"You have any beer, kid?" Desmond asked in the same casual voice.
"No," Sam said quietly. "I don't drink. I have water."
"Is it cold?" Desmond opened kitchen window and pulled a chair towards him.
"Yeah," Sam muttered, his shoulders tense.
"I could use some then," Desmond nodded and mounted the chair, facing the open window. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" he briefly turned his head and glanced at LeVoughn-Junior who was digging in the fridge.
"I don't care," Sam muttered and closed the fridge, two bottles of water in his hands.
He handed one bottle to the assassin, his expression alert, as if he expected Desmond to assault him suddenly. When Desmond took the bottle, Sam offered the second one to Gabriel.
"Thank you," Rayhe said quietly, taking it from his hands.
"Mmm," Desmond said with approval after taking several gulps out of the bottle. "This is good..."
Sam didn't say anything to that; he leaned on the counter and folded his arms in his chest, his eyes dark still.
"All right," Desmond said finally, blowing a small cloud of blue smoke through his nostrils. "I need you to get to a place on Friday night," he glanced at Gabriel. "Rayhe will give you the directions. I need you to get there around six in the evening, park behind the house..." he looked at Sam intently. "*Behind *the house," he repeated slowly. "Make sure that your car is out of sight and don't make any noise. Around eight in the evening, I need you to turn the car on. Leave the lights off, however. Sit there until I come out. Make sure you have enough gas," he looked at Sam again. The kid's eyes weren't as dark anymore, but his face was getting more and more confused. "If you run out of gas the minute I get inside the car, I *will *kill you," Desmond nodded. "After I am inside, drive away from there as if you were trying to escape from hell," he took a drag on his cigarette. "I might not need you," he said after a minute. "In that case, I'll come out and tell you to go home. Got it?"
"What is this?" Sam frowned and glanced at Rayhe. "Some weird test? Or a joke?"
"Neither," Gabriel sighed. "It's a..." he paused. "A gamble," he finished.
"A gamble," Sam repeated slowly.
"Yeah," Rayhe nodded. "Because there is a very big chance this won't work... Salamander is not easy to fool..."
"Salamander?!" Sam's eyes widened. "Which one?"
"Julian," Rayhe said, and frowned when Sam let out a low hiss. "What is it?" he asked.
Sam shook his head.
"Nothing," he answered shortly. "Give me the directions..." he looked into Desmond's eyes. "I'll be there."
On Friday night, Rayhe felt nauseous. They were almost at the house; the night splashing darkness into the windows of the car as Gabriel drove. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so hard that his joints ached.
"After you done with the vial," Desmond was saying. "Dump it into the garbage disposal... Just in case," he added, and Rayhe nodded silently. "You are a shitty liar, Rayhe," Desmond said softly, and Gabriel glanced at him with a small frown. "I don't know how good of an actor you are... For both of our sakes, I hope you can act well."
Gabriel bit his lower lip and said nothing. He had no idea how good of an actor he was himself. "We'll find out," he thought darkly.
"The kid better be there," Desmond muttered, staring into the darkness behind the window.
"He'll be there," Gabriel nodded.
"I hate relying on the others," Desmond grimaced. "That's how even the best plans go to hell..."
Gabriel sighed.
"Sam will be there," he repeated without taking his eyes off the road.
"We'll see..." Desmond said absent-mindedly. "After you leave, don't go home right away... Hang out somewhere, like a tavern. I don't know if he'll be watching you for a while just to make sure or not... Sit there for several hours; mope if you have to. Don't get too drunk though. When everything feels fine, and when you are positive that nobody is watching you, go home."
Rayhe felt a small smile tickling his mouth. Desmond was referring to his apartment as `home.' Rayhe's home. Gabriel liked that. He liked that a lot.
- XXV -
"So far so good," Desmond thought when Rayhe casually asked him whether he wanted a drink. Gabriel wasn't as bad of an actor as the assassin feared he would be. He was, in fact, surprisingly good and convincing.
"Yeah," he said to the offer. "That would be good... I'm gonna take a leak," he added and went to the bathroom.
The roar of the garbage disposal was his cue to come back into the kitchen.
"I could definitely use a drink right now," he said and Rayhe's shoulders immediately got tense, which Desmond approved. "It's been a while since my last one..."
Rayhe handed him the short glass, and Desmond gulped the whiskey down. He wasn't lying when he said he could use a drink right now. The whiskey immediately spread comforting warmth around his throat and that made him feel somewhat better. Desmond knew that the drug Julian gave to Rayhe would usually kick in rather soon – five minutes, give or take.
"That was good," he nodded with sincere satisfaction and sat his glass on the counter. "Come on, let's get to that safe..."
There was no safe in this house; Desmond knew that. He hoped that Rayhe would come up with a decent excuse to keep him in the kitchen. He did.
"Hey," Gabriel said softly after he placed both hands on Desmond's shoulders. The assassin blinked. Right now, Rayhe didn't look like he was acting; his eyes were sincere.
"What?" Desmond frowned slightly. "Something wrong?"
Instead of answering, Gabriel leaned forward and kissed his mouth, and Desmond's eyes closed by themselves, even though the assassin didn't intend to do that. Rayhe's tongue wasn't dominant right now as it usually was. Right now, it was slow, gentle, and insanely arousing. Desmond cursed silently in his head. Goddammit, he thought when suddenly all he wanted to do was to push Rayhe against that counter and rip his clothes off. Goddammit, this is not the time! What the hell Rayhe was thinking, kissing him like this right now? He is going to pay for this later, Desmond thought helplessly, while his hand made its way onto the back of Gabriel's neck. Oh, he is so going to pay for...
"I love you," Rayhe said, and Desmond froze. Was it just an improvisation for Salamander's sake and entertainment or... His eyes, Desmond thought. His damn dark eyes... They were... Sincere. The assassin stared at him, completely mute, when Rayhe added:
"I am sorry."
That brought Desmond back to life and he blinked finally.
"What..." he said and then he swayed on his feet slightly. "Wait..." he muttered and took his hand off Rayhe's neck so he could grab onto the counter. Now it was his turn to act well. "Wait..." he said again and slowly slid down onto the floor. He looked up at Rayhe, whose expression was grave.
Desmond managed to pour confusion, disbelief, and astonishment into his gaze.
"I am sorry," Rayhe said again.
"You..." the assassin squeezed weakly. "You drugged me... Why...?"
"I am sorry," Gabriel repeated in a whisper.
Damn, we are good, Desmond thought, making sure that nothing reflects on his face. If they were doing this on stage, the audience would weep quietly right about now. Then he heard someone opening the front door of the house. Desmond prepared himself to see Salamander, but to his surprise, it wasn't Julian. Instead, it was some man, whose built reminded Desmond of a wardrobe. The man smiled in a dark eerie way and quickly walked towards the assassin. Desmond knew the "I-am-going-to-hurt-you" look when he saw one, and this was exactly it. Well, crap, he thought. Here it comes...
He was right. The man kicked him in the ribs so hard that for several seconds, Desmond firmly believed that at least one of them was broken. He fell onto the floor with a groan he didn't need to fake. He knew that he had another kick coming and gritted his teeth.
"Enough!" he heard Rayhe spit out. "Enough!"
To Desmond's surprise, there was no other kick. Huh, he thought. Rayhe's aura of authority worked, who would've thought... Then he felt his arms being twisted behind his back, and then there was oh-so-familiar feeling of the handcuffs being snapped onto his wrists. This is not good, he thought. This made it that much harder.
"You killed my brother, you son of a bitch," the man said and rolled Desmond onto his back, staring into assassin's eyes. Desmond tried to make his body as limp as he possibly could. "You broke his neck... Back in that house..." the man hissed. Ah, okay, Desmond thought. The idiot in the house was this buffoon's brother. Then he felt the man's fingers digging into his scalp and a very unpleasant cold shiver ran down his spine. There was a good chance this buffoon might break his neck now.
"I should do the same to you," the buffoon proved Desmond right. "Right now...!"
"Don't!" There was Rayhe again with his aura of sharp authority.
To Desmond's greatest relief, the buffoon's hands relaxed and slid off Desmond's head.
"The only reason I am not going to do it," the human wardrobe said through his clenched teeth. "Is because Julian wants to kill you himself, you piece of shit!"
That's right, Desmond thought. If you don't follow Salamander's orders, you'll be beyond sorry. He groaned loudly when the man slapped his face so hard that for a second, Desmond saw the stars. He forced himself to remain limp and disoriented.
"Let's go!" the buffoon said shortly.
"Wait..." Gabriel muttered. "Let me..." he cleared his throat. "Let me say good-bye..." he finished in a pleading whisper.
"Your hands!" the buffoon said sharply and Desmond froze. Crap, they know about Rayhe's ability...
"Show them to me!" the buffoon commanded, and Desmond relaxed somewhat. He only wanted to make sure that Rayhe doesn't slip Desmond anything, like a knife or something else.
"Hurry up," the buffoon said finally, and Rayhe lowered himself on one knee.
He ran his fingers slowly through Desmond's hair and leaned forward. "If he kisses me the same way again, I will murder him," Desmond thought gloomily. This time, the kiss was brief, however.
"I am sorry..." he muttered once more and gave the assassin a brief hug.
Desmond felt his fingers running over one of the metal rings on his wrist, and then he felt the said ring relax and slide off. He grabbed it with his fingers just in time before it fell onto the floor and made noise.
"Let's go!" the buffoon grabbed Rayhe's shoulder, forcing him to get up; he didn't even glance at Desmond, to the assassin's greatest relief.
He made himself lie still for several minutes after the front door slammed shut. Then he got up, wincing slightly from the dull pain in his ribs, and quickly went towards the back door of the house. It was unlocked, and Desmond silently thanked Rayhe. He quietly walked outside and glanced around, looking for Sam LeVoughn. There was nobody there.
"You gave me your word, you damn bastard!" he heard Gabriel scream around the corner of the house.
Dammit, Desmond thought feverishly. He didn't have much time. Where the hell was the kid? He silently trotted towards the road. "I knew it," he thought darkly. "I knew it! I knew that the little bastard wouldn't show up! Goddammit..."
He was wondering which way Salamander's car would go. If it goes the same direction as Desmond, then he is screwed. "And not in a good way," he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, he heard a screech of the tires right behind him, and Desmond whirled around, almost positive that it was Julian.
"Get in!" Sam said in a soft urgent voice. "Why the hell did you go to the road?!"
Desmond blinked.
"I waited for you for two and a half hours!" the kid was almost raging right now. "Then you look right at me, turn around, and go to the road! What the hell? Get in already!"
Desmond blinked again and quickly walked to the passenger's door of the car.
"I didn't see you," he said when he got inside.
"Well, you told me to make sure that nobody sees me," the kid said with a shrug.
"I didn't mean myself," Desmond rolled his eyes, and the kid shrugged again.
"Yeah, well..."
"Go!" Desmond interrupted him. "Drive!"
Sam stopped talking and angrily threw the car in gear. "The kid sure knows how to drive," Desmond thought, glancing at Sam when he picked up speed and was zooming down the empty road. A few minutes later, there was a loud exploding sound behind them and Desmond turned his head to look behind his back.
"Holy shit!" the kid exclaimed, tapping on his brakes slightly. "What was that?!"
"Drive!" Desmond barked and Sam immediately took his foot off the brake.
The house was nothing but a huge torch ripping the night apart with the flame.