Travis had been Beck’s long enough to know when ‘stay in the truck’ meant ‘follow in a little while and help’ or when it actually meant, ‘stay in the truck on pain of not being able to walk for a week.’ This was one of the latter times, so Travis stayed put and messed with the radio. He didn’t know exactly what his Master did for a living, but it was something to do with private security. Not a bodyguard, but close to it was how Beck had explained it to him. Since it had obviously caused Beck to run into Billy at some point, Travis figured the people needing protection weren’t what society considered model citizens.
Not that it mattered to Travis what his Master did for a living. The last six months had easily been the best of his life and he would do anything to stay with Beck. The other man kept him safe and sane, a combination rarely seen in his life, not to mention spoiled him rotten. All Travis had to do was mention something in passing, whether a trade journal or artifact or piece of clothing. The spare room in the apartment that Beck used as an office now had a desk for Travis and he had his own shelving unit that was slowly being filled with precious artifacts and textbooks. Not to mention the state of the art computer that he’d been cranking out research on.
Settling on a folk station that would annoy Beck into a grin and headshake, Travis put the seat back and yawned, deciding a nap wouldn’t go amiss. His ass ached pleasantly from his last Claiming and his ear did the same from the piercing he’d finally convinced Beck to get him just a couple of days before. A diamond gold stud adorned his ear, matching the gorgeous Chain that lay comfortingly heavy on his throat.
A knock at the window startled Travis out of a light doze and then his heart skipped a few beats in fear on seeing his father standing just outside. They were in an industrial warehouse area for whatever Beck’s latest job needed and there was no one around other than the occasional worker.
Billy smirked at him, a hauntingly familiar sight, and said in a casually insulting tone, “Fat and lazy, just like I knew you’d become with someone who couldn’t see through your bullshit.”
Travis pulled out his cell phone to call Beck, which was SOP for if Billy showed up anywhere Beck wasn’t.
“I wouldn’t,” Billy warned, his grin vanishing. “Don’t call Beck until you’ve heard what I have to say. It concerns your Master.”
Travis’ finger hovered just over the number one, his father’s pale, hard gaze compelling him into obedience.
Nodding, Billy told him, “Your Master owes me thirty thousand dollars, Travis. I’ve got it all nice and legal and in writing, enforceable by any court in the Empire. I held off to see what he planned to do with you, sure that he bought you to somehow use against me, but imagine my surprise when all he did was keep you and fuck you like some kind of real person.”
Travis flinched at the sneering words and looked away.
“So here’s the deal. You come with me right now and I’ll revoke the contract. That’ll free Beck to do whatever the hell he wants with his life. If you don’t come with me, not only will I make sure that I get the opportunity to buy the asshole once the Courts are done stripping away all his rights and property, but I’ll give him to my boys for some fun. You know what that’s like, don’t you Travis? They’re always real happy to break in a new slave for me.”
Cold slithered through Travis at the thought of Beck being under his father’s control, but he held onto the panic trying to overtake him and demanded, “How do I even know such a contract exists? And it’s not like I think you’d hold up your end of the deal anyhow, so why would I go with you?”
Billy leaned in close to the mostly-closed window and snarled quietly, “Because if you don’t, I will tear Beck into tiny little pieces that his own mother wouldn’t recognized. I will break him and make you watch it happen. I will use him up and make him into a mindless zombie not even fit for a whorehouse. Just like you were before he bought you, right son?”
And he could do it, too. Billy had the resources to make sure that Beck disappeared and was never found again. Travis knew that Beck had been protecting him from his father, he just hadn’t realized to what extent. If he hadn’t spent the money buying Travis, or on all the things he’d bought for Travis, then he could’ve repaid Billy by now.
Travis closed the cell phone and left it on the driver’s seat. He wished that he could see Beck just one more time, but the hungry look in his father’s gaze wouldn’t allow that. This was as much punishment for him, as for Beck; Billy didn’t allow disobedience from anyone. Resigned and despairing, he unlocked the truck door and climbed out.
Billy grabbed his arm and squeezed it painfully tight as he said, “Good decision, bitch,” and pulled Travis towards the Towne car parked just behind the truck. He shoved Travis into the back seat, following close.
The driver smoothly pulled onto the road as soon as the door closed and Travis watched in vain for Beck to come out of the warehouse in time to see them go. He was half-hoping the other man would and give chase and half-terrified that that would actually happen. Billy wasn’t someone to cross, as Travis knew all too well. He sat on the other side of the bench seat, curling passively against the door and hoping for at least a little while to escape notice.
It wasn’t until they reached the highway the Billy ordered, “Get that mouth over here.”
Travis knew exactly what Billy wanted. He managed to keep his shudder of revulsion to fine tremors as he obediently crossed over to his father. Travis only felt shame and disgust whenever Billy made him go suck him off; at least with fucking, all Travis had to do was lie there and take it. He couldn’t do that with a blowjob.
He unzipped Billy’s pants and pulled out the half-hard dick from silk boxers. Not wasting time, Travis took it in his mouth and went down on it, wetting it as best he could with his mouth that felt like a desert. In the dark humor of the Gods, his father was more than respectably endowed and it was always an effort once he got totally hard. That took less time than usual and it was only a couple of minutes before he was choking on the cock that pushed at the back of his throat.
“Useless bitch,” Billy muttered, taking a grip in Travis’ hair. He thrust up, forcing his dick down Travis’ throat and using him with easy violence, barely allowing Travis time to gasp for air now and again. As it was, Travis’ vision edged towards gray from lack of oxygen by the time Billy cursed him out and came, shooting down Travis’ throat and forcing his head to stay buried on his cock until Travis thought he would pass out.
When Billy let go finally, Travis coughed and gasped for air, feeling sick to his stomach. He forced himself not to throw up; he’d just have to clean that up if he did and towels would not be used. Billy casually bitch slapped him across the face hard enough to send him onto the floor, ears ringing from the blow.
“That’s for thinking you had permission to sit where your Master sits. And I would’ve thought Beck would’ve taught you how to suck cock right, as long as he’s had you. That’s okay. You’ll get plenty of practice from here on out,” Billy promised.
Travis huddled on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to blank his mind back to pre-Beck. At least then, he hadn’t been able to feel anything.
* * * *
Beck limped out of the
warehouse with a groan, his ankle throbbing from an unseen hole in the stairs
as he’d chased his quarry through the self-made home in the catwalks. Once he
got
All I need right now is a
hot soak and Travis, he thought with a grin. He’d find
He’d been a lot longer than anticipated, almost a full hour, and he knew Travis would be champing at the bit to get home. The slave would take one look at the bruise on his face and how he was limping and jump out of the truck to help him the rest of the scant distance. Then he would be treated to an extremely attentive and anxious slave who wanted to pamper him. Travis thought that he was the one who got spoiled, but Beck knew it to be the complete opposite. There’d never been a time in his life when anyone, well, other than his mother, had wanted to take care of him.
His good mood vanished on
seeing the truck was empty, though. Beck took a breath to control his temper,
knowing that Travis disobeyed only because he thought that he could help. What
the slave didn’t realize was that sometimes, it really was too dangerous for
him to get involved. And while
Pulling out his cell, he touched the walkie button on the side and snapped, “Travis! Where the hell are you? I said to wait in the truck!”
Strangely, his voice echoed back from somewhere nearby and he frowned, looking around and calling out, “Travis? Where are you?”
Worry began to surface at the resulting silence. No way would Travis play this kind of game on him. If anything, Travis did all he could to make mischief only in their home where he knew it was safe. Out in the world, the slave was perfectly behaved, the epitome of devotion aside from his occasional habit of helping when told to stay behind.
Beck reached the truck then and opened the door to see if Travis had left a note. When he found Travis’ cell phone on the driver’s seat, worry shifted into outright dread. Someone had taken Travis and it hadn’t been voluntary because there was no way the slave would leave the phone behind.
Pocketing it, he climbed in and started the engine, pulling onto the access road and gunning it for the main street. Whoever had Travis wouldn’t be hanging around. What Beck needed was to go online and bring up the locator chip in the slave. Then he cursed out loud and pulled onto the shoulder, bringing up the browser in his cell phone and immediately going to the website and typing in Travis’ twenty digit identification number from memory. He selected “track now” and plugged the phone into his GSP before selecting “transfer and maintain data link.”
The map came to life on the GPS
and Travis became a blip on the small screen about fifty miles away and
traveling down Route Five towards
Growling in pure fury, Beck pulled a u-turn as he snarled, “Billy!” knowing exactly who’d taken Travis from him. From the map, they had the whole hour as a lead and he couldn’t risk getting pulled over for speeding and let them get even further ahead. All he could do was pray that the damage Billy did to Travis until Beck got there wasn’t too great.
Beck’s imagination haunted him
the three hour trip to
Just as Beck reached
Not having an actual destination now, Beck went to Billy’s nearest property which was outside the city proper. A mansion set in a refined neighborhood, Billy’s wealth gleamed in marble and gold fixtures even on the outside of the structure. The driveway was gated with an actual security detail set at the end of it.
“Can I help…oh. Beck.”
Beck flashed the guard a grin, fondly remembering the last time they’d met and he’d punched the asshole’s face in, and said, “I’m here to see Billy.”
“Yeah, he’s expecting you,” the guard replied, pressing a button.
Beck drove up the long driveway and parked just behind a Towne car and a Jaguar. He took a breath to compose himself, knowing that he would need all his wits, and then headed inside to get his slave back.
* * * *
Travis remembered this room vividly. It was barely more than a closet with a couple of blankets on the floor and the single, small window had bars over it. It had been here that his father had thrown him when he was a kid, just after his mother’s death. At least he hadn’t been put into the guards’ rec room, a thought that made him weak with fear simply because he knew it would happen sooner or later.
He was tall enough now to look out of the window, but didn’t bother. There was no rescue coming, so why try and look outside? He’d been down this road before. Even with years between the instances, there was no way in hell he would forget what had happened last time. Travis would be his father’s fuckhole until Billy grew tired of him and gave him to the guards. Then they would abuse him until his father got tired of even catching glimpses of him. And then he would be sold to a whorehouse to be used by whoever had twenty bucks to fuck him.
If only he could be sure that the contract had been destroyed. If he knew there was no way Beck could get hurt, Travis would just suicide. Going to the Underworld was preferable than the living hell his life would be under his father’s boot.
Maybe, he thought,
maybe I can sneak a look at his computer after he’s done fucking me in the
study. He usually forgets I’m there after, especially if I’m quiet. I could
check his computer and see if he’s gotten rid of the contract. Or I could even…
Travis perked up as he started planning how he could destroy not only Beck’s file, but everyone his father had under control. The lives he would ruin just because he could, because it gave him pleasure to have people groveling in fear and begging for mercy that would never come. He could do a little good in his life before it was over.
* * * *
Striding through the lobby to the kitchen where Billy stood behind the counter, an apron over his belt and a knife in hand, Beck waited to be noticed. For once, he wasn’t going to play Billy’s game. He would force the other man to play his.
Finally, Billy gave him an irritated look and demanded, “What? You decide to try out for the role as statue?”
Beck stayed calm as he replied, “You have two choices here, Billy. Option A, you give Travis back to me and I forget this ever happened. I will let you live, not that you deserve it.”
Billy actually laughed at that and set the knife down. “You’ll let me live? That’s real generous of you, Beck, real generous. Let’s say I do have Travis, not that I would want the worthless piece of trash, what happens if I don’t like Option A? What’s Option B?”
Deadly serious, Beck stated, “I make you. And I make sure you can’t hurt anyone else, ever again.”
“Is that so?” Billy murmured, an angry glint in those cold eyes. Louder, he repeated, “Is that so? You son of a whore! Who do you think you are, coming into my house and threatening me like that?!”
“Just give him back, Billy,” Beck said.
Arms folding over his chest, Billy snarled, “Get the fuck out of my house before I forget my manners and tell one of my guys to shoot you in the head. Travis ain’t here, so don’t fucking come back, you hear me?”
Beck shook his head and told him, “You should have taken Option A, Billy. I don’t care if you are his blood. I will see you dead if you hurt him.”
He knew that Billy wouldn’t kill in his own home, too messy for law enforcement, even for Billy Walker, so Beck kept his gaze a moment longer before turning and leaving. He took in as much of the interior on the way out, as he had on the way in, noting stairs and windows and obstacles. Beck knew someone that could get him blueprints, and he would definitely buy them, but having a mental map was just as important.
Sending a brief thought skyward for someone to give Travis strength, Beck left the house and got in his truck. He started the engine and took a longer look at the outside of the house, noting the small window on the top floor with bars on it; the only one in the mansion that did. Driving to the street, Beck pulled into traffic with his mind awash in plans.
First things first.
He had guns to buy.
* * * *
Travis jumped when the door slammed open that night.
His father stood in the doorway, face etched with fury as he ordered, “My bedroom now.”
Scrambling to his feet prompted Billy to slam his fist into Travis’ face and then kick him in the gut.
“On your knees, cunt! You know you’re not allowed to act like a real person,” Billy snarled.
Travis moaned in pain even as he struggled to his hands and knees to obey. The longer it took for him to do as he was told, the worse the punishment. Going down stairs was the most difficult, his balance already shot from the blow to the head, not to mention the bloody nose that made the marble slippery.
When he made it at last, Travis waited to be told what to do just inside the door.
“Bend over the bed.”
Travis crawled to the bed and pulled himself up with shaking arms. There was no undressing as his clothes had been ordered off in the car. A fist slammed into his back and Travis cried out in pain, fingers spasming against the bedspread. Another blow struck his other side and he almost vomited from the pain, barely able to draw in breath.
Billy’s fingers laced into his hair and yanked his head back to whisper into his ear, “You’re all mine now, Travis. I got a call from Beck looking for you and boy was he pissed. He thinks you ran. I even offered him help in tracking you down, but he said he was going to find you himself. You know what? I think you should be more afraid of him, than me, Travis. I’ll fuck you and pass you around, but it looked to me like that nice-guy façade of Beck’s hid a serious psycho. And now that psycho wants to kill you for running.”
Every word was like a physical blow, making Travis flinch. He moaned again, this time in heartache. Of course Beck would think he ran. Why wouldn’t he? He would think that Travis had left him, abandoned him, and would feel so betrayed that nothing Travis said if they did ever see each other again would make any difference. He’d seen the other man’s wrath before when someone had touched him with intent and without permission, and it had put the offender in the hospital. And that had been a stranger, someone Beck wasn’t even invested in.
Without warning, Billy’s dick violated him, forcing its way inside like it had so many times before. The fucking was brutal as it went on forever, eventually lubricated by his own blood. Billy whispered words like bitch, and slut, and worthless, and whore, right against his ear. It was almost worse than the physical pounding that battered his ass into nothing. Billy finally came, grinding down into him, and then pulled out roughly and shoved him off the bed.
Travis lay on the floor for a few seconds and then pushed himself to his hands and knees to leave.
As he reached the door, Billy called out in a satisfied voice, “It’s good to have you back, Travis. Don’t forget that you’ll always have a place in my…heart.”
Flinching, Travis crawled out of the bedroom and aimed for the stairs back upstairs to his room.
* * * *
Beck watched. He watched the mansion and watched Billy go in and out of it for a full twenty-four hours to get a sense of schedule. This would be the rescue mission. Vengeance would come as soon as he had Travis safe and tucked away. He knew the young man was being abused, but also knew that if he was to get in and out without anyone being the wiser, he had to know the security, the layout, and the rhythm.
When darkness fell a second time, Beck was ready to go but waited and watched more. His patience was rewarded when Billy came out all dressed up in a tux and got in the chauffeured Towne car. Parked down the street as he was, he didn’t even need to duck down when the car went in the other direction.
Beck got out of the truck and pulled out his utility belt, buckling it into place. It was a cinch to hop the stone fence a hundred yards or so away from the gate and jog across the big lawn. He stopped at the mansion wall and walked around to a side door. This early in the evening, they hadn’t secured the alarm yet so he picked the lock on the patio door and slipped inside.
It was almost child’s play to get to the third story and find the tiny room with the tiny, barred window. He had to duck around a corner once, but otherwise the guards slacked off when Billy wasn’t around. Opening the door a crack, he peered inside and wanted to put his fist through a wall on finding Travis curled up in a fetal position under a thin blanket. His back was to the wall and the narrow sliver of light from the hall landed on a bruised face and swollen nose.
Unadulterated fury lanced through Beck, stealing his breath and making him see through a haze of red. Knowing that showing such emotion to Travis would probably scare the poor kid half to death, Beck closed the door silently and took a few deep, cleansing breaths. Once he was under control, he opened the door again and walked into the room. He crouched down beside Travis and gently ran a finger over the unmarked cheek and said softly, “Travis, can you hear me? Wake up baby, it’s time to go.”
Travis went very still in the way he had when Beck had first bought him and the slave was trying to figure out if Beck would hurt him more or leave him alone. Something inside twisted as he thought about how much had been lost because of Billy, but he ruthlessly tamped it down.
Keeping his voice gentle, he said, “It’s okay, Travis. I’m here to get you out of here. Billy’s never going to hurt you again, I swear it on my life.”
Travis’ eyes opened at that and he whispered, “You have to go, Master. You can’t be here. You have to leave before he finds you and hurts you.”
Beck’s heart spasmed at the desperation in the barely audible words. He shook his head and told Travis, “Billy’s not going to hurt me. We’re going to get you out of here and I’m going to put you somewhere safe until I can deal with him. I need you to trust me, Travis, can you do that? Trust me to protect you?”
A shaky hand reached out and Beck caught it with his own, cradling it against his chest and marveling at Travis’ ability to have faith in other people after all he’d been through. Beck carefully held him to his feet only to have the slave’s knees buckle. He scooped the smaller man into his arms and hoped that security would be equally as lax on the way out.
It wasn’t, of course. He’d no sooner gotten to the second floor when one of the guards came around the corner. Eyes widening, the man yelled, “Intruder, second floor!” into his walkie-talkie before launching at them.
Cursing under his breath, Beck waited until the other man was too close to change momentum or direction and kicked out with all his strength, sending the guard through the wall to crash into the opposite wall. He ran down the stairs two at a time and simply barreled into the two men who came at them with tasers in hand. They fell like bowling pins and he continued to run flat out to crash through the patio doors. Glass shattered around him, but other than a few stinging cuts, no damage was done.
By then, naturally, all the guards had run into the house to help so it was easy to run across the lawn. He pushed Travis over the wall, wincing when the slave just fell like a sack of potatoes on the other side, but had no time to do anything save pick him back up and run to the truck. Beck loaded Travis into the small backseat and then jumped in the driver’s seat and gunned the engine.
They were burning rubber around the corner before the first car made it out of the driveway to come after them. He turned the very next corner and then the next and then pulled into the driveway of a house that was currently empty. Like every job, Beck had cased the neighborhood for hidey-holes in the event of discovery. He cut the engine and lights and watched as two cars drove by at a speed that could hurt someone if they stepped onto the generally quiet street at the wrong moment.
Beck waited ten more seconds and then pulled out to drive to the highway. He already had a hotel room secured under a false name in the heart of the city where he could take Travis. He’d already called Kim and asked her to have someone she trusted available to look over Travis. She’d immediately given him a name and promised to call her to let her know to expect Beck’s call.
It took a good half-hour to get to the hotel and park in the garage, waving off the valet service in favor of a more discreet entrance. An attendant approached him there and Beck thrust a keycard at the kid as he said shortly, “I’ve got him,” as he carefully cradled Travis against his chest, the slave completely unconscious.
The young man’s eyes widened and he hurried ahead of them to the elevator where he asked, “Um, w-which floor, Sir?”
“Seventh floor. Room seven oh five.”
Nodding, the attendant pressed the seventh floor button and stood as far from them as he could during the elevator ride. He rushed ahead of them and unlocked the door for them, stepping aside to let him in and then leaving the keycard on the table.
Beck strode to the bedroom and gently lay Travis on it before returning to the attendant waiting uncertainly in the main room. He pulled out the paper with the doctor’s name and phone number on it, giving it to the kid with the order, “Call her and have her come immediately. Show her to this room.”
He gave a hundred dollar tip to make sure he was obeyed and the kid’s eyes widened again in a different kind of shock before rushing out of the room.
Shaking his head in dark amusement, Beck went to the bathroom and poured the basin full of water to bring back to the bedroom, along with peroxide and large band-aides. With Travis naked, it was easy to see what needed cleaning and he set to work on what little he could do on his own.
Partway through, Travis woke up and flinched away from him before squinting at him and relaxing a hair. He reached out to Beck and touched his face with something akin to wonder as he whispered, “Billy said you hated me, that you thought I ran.”
“You wouldn’t,” Beck said simply. “You’re mine.”
A faint smile graced the horribly bruised face and Travis breathed out, “I’m yours,” before passing out again.
Beck kissed his forehead lingeringly before going back to gently cleaning his slave.
* * * *
Travis woke to an overall pain that reminded him of things he’d been trying to forget for years. He’d gotten out of practice in how to blank his mind, how to disconnect, and now he couldn’t ignore the dull aches that throbbed all over. The first time hadn’t been that bad, but the second time had. That morning, Billy had decided to have some fun and had used a ball stretcher on top of inviting in a couple of the guards after he’d had his turn.
He expected it to keep getting worse.
The bed beneath him confused Travis only until unfamiliar hands began touching him. He did his best not to move, not wanting to incite violence any earlier than necessary, and then frowned as the hands did nothing more than run over him in a strangely efficient manner. It was almost like a doctor, but Billy wouldn’t spend the money.
A woman said, “The stitches will dissolve in about ten days. You should keep him on a soft diet until then to make sure he doesn’t strain when he has to void. Also, if he urinates blood, take him to the hospital for tests. Those bruises on his back are right over the kidneys, which I really don’t like. I’d err on the side of caution. The damage to his testes isn’t permanent, but likely to be very painful over the next several days. I wouldn’t recommend any sexual stimulation to give them time to heal. I’m leaving you painkillers and a prescription for more. It’ll be best to keep him warm and quiet for the next few days, limiting his activities. And lastly, he’s awake now, I think.”
And then Beck said, “Travis? It’s okay, you can open your eyes. You’re safe.”
The memory of how Beck had taken him from Billy suddenly came to light in his mind and Travis opened his eyes. Beck crouched beside the bed, brown eyes filled with concern and love, things he’d never thought to see again. Tears welled up unbidden and he reached out hesitantly to touch his Master’s face. “You’re real.”
Beck nodded and took his hand in a light grip, supporting it as he confirmed, “I’m real and you are never going to worry about Billy again, Travis. No one will touch you again except me.”
Fear turned his stomach and Travis exclaimed, “Please don’t, Master, don’t take him on! He’ll hurt you, I know he will. Please, I know I’m useless and not worthy to ask anything, but please, don’t go after him!”
Beck hushed him and soothed a hand over his hair. “It’s okay, Travis. I’m not going anywhere right now, I promise. Just rest, okay? Doc? You wanna…?”
“Yes, I think a sedative’s a good idea,” the woman agreed, still out of sight.
Travis wanted to protest, but held his tongue and lowered his eyes as long, shapely legs came into view. There was a sharp prick in his arm and almost immediately, his body grew heavy and his mind thickened. Squeezing Beck’s hand with what little control he still had, Travis mumbled, “Don’t go, Master, please, not for me. Don’t…”
Darkness stole the rest of his words.
* * * *
Beck’s jaw felt like it was carved from steel; as if, should he try and unclench it, actual creaking metal noises would echo through the hotel room.
Janey sighed and murmured, “Poor boy. He’s been through a lot.”
Leaning in, Beck kissed Travis’ soft hair and then stood as he agreed, “He has. Here, I’ll walk you out. Tell me, how many do you think raped him?”
With an average height and build, Janey Reynolds came to about Beck’s shoulders. She wasn’t especially pretty or ugly, just an all-around, unusually ‘normal’ looking woman in her thirties. She had brown hair and hazel eyes, a little makeup and a generally competent air that made Beck relax.
It wasn’t until she contemplated dark thoughts that her face sharpened into the military hardness necessary for a woman in the Marines, something that also reassured him. Janey finally said, “At a guess? At least three, maybe four. Two separate handprints around his hips plus bruising at different heights on his backside…I’ll let you know for sure when I get the DNA results back tomorrow.”
“And you’ll run them for me?” Beck reiterated.
Her smile was somewhat vicious as she confirmed, “I’ll have their identities to you by tomorrow night, the morning after at the latest.”
Sometimes, Beck really loved the fervor of Abolitionists, especially ones who distinguished between ‘regular’ slaves and those who were voluntary.
Holding out a hand, he took hers in a firm grip and said sincerely, “Thank you.”
Janey nodded and replied, “You’re welcome. Just take good care of him, Mr. Beck, or we just might have a problem down the line.”
Beck’s lips twitched as he told her, “If I ever mistreat Travis, I’ll have a problem with me.”
Looking satisfied, Janey left the hotel room and Beck locked the door behind her.
A sense of déjà vu struck Beck as he walked back to the bedroom to check on Travis; almost as if the last six months hadn’t happened at all. He very well could be at square one with the slave again and it made him want to put his fist repeatedly into Billy’s face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stroked a hand down the slender back and let his thoughts roam in circles until they quieted altogether.
Having Travis was good for him, there was no doubt about that. Just having the slave to touch and pet had settled down the rage that had festered deep inside for so many years. He’d been in the ‘retrieval’ business for almost a decade and the military for years before that. All the hate and violence that he’d been sent out in squads to quell, the rebellions that were ruthlessly stamped out before they could grow, all of the injustice he’d been commissioned to perpetrate in the name of the Empire…all of it had boiled inside until he couldn’t even stand the sight of weapons and uniforms.
He’d retired from military life with honors and been assured of good living from his pension, but Beck hadn’t touched one cent of the blood money since retiring. It had grown fat over the years and he’d used it to help fund the charities designed to succor the most helpless, the most downtrodden. He knew it wouldn’t even being to atone for what he’d done in the service of the Empire, but could hope to do at least a little good before he died.
And now there was Travis. The slave gave him peace of mind and heart, had started to heal the blackness lingering on his soul. Beck had been thinking of a permanent retirement and drastic change of career since buying him. Open a restaurant. Use his talents for simple pleasures. Take care of Travis and pamper him, give him everything he needed before he even knew to ask for it. His last job, the one to bring in a low-level forger, was now really his last job. He would refund the fee and be done with retrieval for good.
There was just one last thing he had to take care of before Beck could take Travis home and begin their new life.
Billy Walker had to die.
* * * *
Beck waited until Travis’ nightly dose of drugs two days later to go after Billy. Not just because he wanted to make sure that Travis could handle himself if he woke up and Beck was gone, but also to put the fear of God in Billy. Once he was sure that Travis was out cold, Beck kissed his forehead and went into the living room to gear up.
Black fitted pants and turtleneck. Bowie knives in each army boot. 9mm guns with silencers in each shoulder holster. Spare ammo and extra knives in the belt. Black leather gloves. And the last touch was black face paint. There was no way that anyone would see him coming.
He spent the drive to Billy’s house bringing up every cut and bruise on Travis’ body to mind. He remembered how Janey had spent twenty minutes stitching up Travis’ anus. He saw in his head the ugly, mottled skin over the slave’s balls from where a stretcher had hung too-heavy weights. He thought about the missions he’d carried out where pleading, innocent eyes had to be ignored. He thought about his first kill, still vivid twenty-six years later, the feel of cartilage and bone breaking under his hands as he crushed the windpipe of a traitor.
By the time he parked half a block from the mansion, Beck had transformed himself from a pretty genial guy to the cold blooded killer his command had required him to be. He would be able to kill all the guards and spend…quality time with Billy without losing his mind.
What happened after was anyone’s guess.
Beck walked right up to the front gate and, from the shadows of the stone wall, shot the guard in the head. The man dropped without feeling a thing and Beck hopped the wall, gun down at his side. He jogged right up the driveway and opened the unlocked door and then waited in the foyer for someone to show up on their rounds. A guard stepped around the corner about thirty seconds later and Beck shot him in the head, too, and stayed where he was.
It was another minute before a third guard walked down the stairs and that one caused Beck to withdraw into the shadows and wait, holstering his gun. He pulled out one of the knives and waited until the man was just in front of him. Beck grabbed him in a neck hold and pressed the blade to the guard’s throat, growling, “Remember me?”
Rigid, the guard gasped, “Beck! You can’t get out, don’t think killing me will save you!”
“Who says I want to be saved?” Beck snarled against the man’s ear.
Clamping one hand over the man’s mouth, Beck lowered the knife and plunged it into the man’s groin. As expected, he jerked violently in Beck’s arms and screamed. He continued screaming as Beck cut out one of the dicks that had raped Travis. At the end of the action, the man sagged insensate in Beck’s grip and he let the man fall, blood seeping into his pants and his breathing shallow.
Three down, three to go.
And then Billy.
He went methodically from room to room on the first floor and took out two more nameless guards with shots to the head. Returning to the foyer, he jogged up to the second floor and peered carefully around the corner. His gaze narrowed at the guard walking towards him, Scum DNA Donor Number Two, and pulled back to wait on the stairs.
As soon as Donor Two walked across the top of the stairs, Beck grabbed his shirt and threw him down the stairs. There were a few audible cracks and he glared at the body that had the nerve to die on the fall down. It finally landed with the head at an awkward angle and one of the legs twisted back.
He turned to peer back around the top of the stairs again and waited. There were two more guards somewhere in the house and only one of them would get a quick death. He stayed where he was for two more minutes before Quick Death came walking down the stairs from the third floor. Beck pulled his gun and shot him in the head, the body dropping with two thuds down the last stairs.
Stepping onto the landing, Beck listened intently. He heard the muted sounds of a movie from behind Billy’s bedroom door and ignored that for the time being. At least it would mask the noise he planned to make with Scum DNA Donor Number Three. As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Donor Three walked around the far corner of the hall.
Beck pulled back a second time and waited as the tread came closer. The second he heard Donor Three hiss in anger on seeing the body, Beck stepped into the hall with his gun up and shot the man in the shoulder and then the knee. Donor Three fell with a cry of pain, his gun tumbling uselessly away as he caught himself with his other hand. Beck walked over to him and kicked him in the gut, lifting Donor Three up and over, onto his back, with the force.
As the man gasped and moaned, pain-glazed eyes looking up at him, Beck informed him, “You shouldn’t have touched him,” before kneeling and pulling out his knife. Holding a hand over Three’s mouth, Beck cut off the man’s dick just as he had the first and wiped the blade on Three’s shirt before leaving him to bleed out.
Then, finally, he stood in front of Billy’s bedroom door. Beck took a moment to compose himself before opening the door and stepping into the room with his gun out. The bedroom was empty and he scanned the room before noticing the sound of running water coming from the attached bedroom. Standing in the center of the room, Beck waited with infinite patience until Billy walked back into the bedroom and then froze upon seeing him there.
Those pale eyes met his and a faint grin surfaced on Billy’s face as he asked, “My men are dead?”
“Some more painfully than others,” Beck confirmed. “I told you not to touch him, Billy.”
Billy seemed unconcerned, if incredulous. He demanded, “All of this over that useless fuck…ing brat?”
Billy stared down at the knife sticking out of his shoulder, the one that had flown just after the word ‘useless,’ and then gaped at Beck, the glimmer of fear starting to show in his eyes. Beck’s lip curled in rage and he let the black emotion out to play, closing the distance between them and yanking the blade out unceremoniously.
Yelping in pain, Billy clutched at the bleeding wound and staggered towards the bed. Beck followed calmly, shoving him down on the mattress and pinning him there with a knee in the chest. “I hadn’t decided until right now whether or not to rape you like you did Travis, but I’m not going to. Well, I’m not going to, but then, you didn’t use your dick for all of it, did you. Let me see if I can find one of those toys you used.”
Billy threw a punch at him, kicked at him too, but he was too weak from bloodloss to have any real force behind the blows.
Beck absorbed them harmlessly and gave him a toothy grin. “I have a better idea.”
He tied Billy to the headboard, giving the wound a rough bandage so the older man didn’t bleed out before he wanted that to happen. Beck cut off each button with his knife in a careful, lover’s parody and then, with the pale chest bared to him, sliced off a nipple. The knife was so sharp that the pain didn’t hit for a full second after the flesh had been cut. Billy screamed and thrashed against the bindings uselessly while Beck just watched.
The next thirty minutes were spent cutting patterns into Billy’s body and Beck didn’t limit himself to the torso. He splashed water on Billy twice to bring him back from unconsciousness. By the time Beck cut the man’s balls off, Billy was a wreck of a man, moaning pitifully and begging in a hoarse breath for mercy.
Staring down at him, Beck stated, “You showed no mercy to anyone in your entire life, Billy. This is mostly for Travis, but also for all the people whose lives you’ve ruined.”
Beck shoved the balls into Billy’s mouth and listened to him choke on them, ice where his heart used to be. He brought the knife down into the stomach and cut sideways, provoking a last, choking scream. Leaving the knife sticking out of Billy’s gut, Beck stood over the man for another two hours, watching the light slowly, oh so slowly, go out of his eyes.
When it was over, Beck pulled the knife free and simply walked away. There were no guards to worry about, so he strode out of the house and down the street to the truck, the interior already encased in plastic. He pulled off his gloves and set them on the passenger’s seat before starting the engine and driving away from the mansion. He pulled into that same driveway and stripped in the darkness, changing into clean clothes and rolling the blood soaked ones in the plastic.
He drove around for a long time. First he went to the harbor where he dropped the clothes and gloves into the ocean knowing that even if they washed up on shore, the blood would be eradicated along with his DNA by the salt water. Then he found a couple of homeless guys and threw the plastic into their fire, getting rid of that evidence, too.
The guns and knives were a little trickier. He put on a second pair of gloves and took apart the guns until there were no parts left together. He threw the pieces out his window at various points around the city, even going onto the freeway to scatter some there. The bullets would have to be melted down later, but that wouldn’t be too difficult since he knew how to do it himself. He finally decided to throw the knives into the ocean as well, finding an overlook and throwing one out as far and hard as he could. The second had never even been used, but they were a matched set so he couldn’t keep it. Regretfully, he found a different place and threw it in the ocean as well.
It was almost dawn when he drove back to the hotel and nodded to the valet attendant and handed him a twenty. He walked into the hotel to the elevator and told the attendant the seventh floor.
Travis was sound asleep when he checked, though it looked to be a restless one from the pinched expression. For the first time in four days, Beck allowed himself to feel sorrow for what had happened to the young man. He’d only let himself feel the rage at how much progress and vivacity had been destroyed so casually by the man who should have protected Travis best.
Kneeling on the floor, Beck whispered, “I love you, Travis. You’re safe now, completely safe,” and brushed his fingers over the air above the soft hair.
Travis sighed and yawned, curling towards Beck’s voice even in sleep.
Unable to stand the thought of touching Travis with the same hands that had murdered the slave’s father, Beck stood and went to take a scalding hot shower.
* * * *
Travis watched Beck as the big man slept, not liking the hard lines that dug into his Master’s face. Even as out of it as he’d been for the last few days, he’d known something serious had happened. Had Beck gone after Billy and lost? He didn’t look injured, but then, those dark clothes hid a lot of sins.
His own body still hurt terribly, especially his ass and balls, but mostly, he missed being held. It hurt in a way that Billy’s beatings never could, going right into the deepest part of him. Beck hadn’t once touched him since getting him back, not other than the occasional, casual contact of hand over his hair or to his shoulder. All Travis could think was that his Master no longer wanted him, that being used by Billy had soured him on all things Travis. Not that he would blame Beck if that were the case, he was disgusted himself, but it still hurt.
Beck woke and groaned, rubbing his neck as he yawned and stretched. He turned on the sofa and found Travis sitting on the floor watching him, a frown marring his face further. “Travis? You okay? Why are you out of bed?”
Looking down at the floor, needing to get it over with, Travis answered, “I’m sorry, Master.”
“For what?” Beck asked, sounding gentle.
Travis took a breath and said, “For everything. I know…I know I disgust you now, after letting my own father take me and use me the way he did and beg your forgiveness. I would also like to beg your permission to suicide. I think…I think that would be best for everyone.”
There was a long silence and then Beck got off the sofa and sat on the floor in front of him. He took Travis’ chin in hand and lifted so that their eyes met. Travis was shocked to find a tear had slid down his Master’s face.
Beck let out a shaky sigh and told him, “No. You may not suicide, Travis, not ever. I would…go crazy if you did. And I’m the one who needs to beg your forgiveness.”
Stunned, Travis managed to ask, “For what, Master?”
“A lot of things,” Beck replied. “But for letting you down, most of all. I should have known that Billy would make a play for you sooner or later, but selfishly took you with me on jobs anyhow. For making you think that I don’t want or love you anymore when you mean everything to me, more than everything to me. I’ve left you alone these last few days out of guilt, not because of anything you did, but because, because of something I’ve done.
“Travis…I killed your father. Murdered him. Tortured him. I made him bleed and hurt and then cut off his balls and shoved them down his throat before gutting him and letting him bleed out over hours. That’s your Master. I’m…I’m a fucking monster and you should get as far away from me as you can. I’ll free you, I will, if you want. I know you can’t forgive me for what I did right now, but maybe…”
Travis launched himself at Beck, throwing his arms around his Master’s neck and holding as tight as he could. The relief at knowing his father was dead almost overwhelmed him, as did the knowledge that Beck really did love him, that he’d opened the darkness inside to make Billy suffer for what he’d done to Travis.
Strong arms wrapped around Travis and Beck moaned, a hair-raising, grieving sound that made Travis squeeze harder and rock a little. This was what he’d been waiting for since accidentally stumbling across an old order book while cleaning the apartment months before. He’d known that Beck had been military, but until finding that tattered, evil listing of evil deeds, hadn’t realized just what kind of military. That Beck had survived with so much soul intact spoke of how decent a man he was.
Beck kept whispering, “I’m sorry,” over and over through the harsh, shuddering sobs Travis held him through, petting, kissing, and soothing him through the wounds that couldn’t be seen. He knew that his Master was really apologizing to all the faceless victims who’d been trampled under the Empire’s boot and rode out the storm until Beck finally stopped, sagging heavily in his arms.
When it was over, Travis kissed his ear and said, “Come, Master. Let’s go to bed now.”
Beck nodded against his shoulder and they leaned on one another as they walked unsteadily to the bedroom. Once under the covers, Travis curled up over the broad chest and whispered, “I think it’s time for a career change, Master.”
Beck’s laugh was short, but sincere as he agreed, “I think so, Travis. How do you feel about a restaurant?”
“As long as I’m not cooking or washing dishes, I love them,” Travis teased lightly.
A soft chuckle graced the air and one of Beck’s arms carefully settled over Travis’ back. “No cooking or dishes. Got it. Travis?”
“Yes, Master?”
“Thank you.”
Travis smiled softly and kissed the bare skin under him before whispering back, “Thank you, Master.”
He fell asleep still smiling.