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T
RISTAN
LAY
on the bed without making a sound. His stomach ached with hunger, but he knew better than to say anything. No one would do anything about it anyway. He’d gone to the bathroom again a little while ago but found nothing else he could use. While he’d been in there, he’d drunk some water, but not too much; he didn’t want to have to go again too soon. He didn’t want to call attention to himself and wanted to be alone so he could think. He had tried to find a way out of here, but there was none. The window was too high. He’d actually thought of using the bedding, but the smelly thug who came in every once in a while had pulled the sheets off the bed, so now all he had was the blanket and a bare mattress. Tristan pulled his legs to his chest and tried to keep his mind from drifting to thoughts of food, so he concentrated on Harry.

God, he missed him. No, that was wrong—he longed for him and hoped like hell Harry was okay and looking for him. He closed his eyes and let himself imagine that he was back in Harry’s house, in the king-size bed with Harry. Hell, he even imagined that the cat was on the bed with him, and he didn’t mind because Harry was with him.

The door banged back against the stops, and Tristan jumped, nearly falling off the back of the bed as he tried to get his feet under him. Eddie stood in the doorway, shoving the last of a hamburger into his mouth. Tristan did his best not to react to it, but the scent of food was enough to make his stomach rumble. He hadn’t really gone that long without eating, but damn, that scent was enticing.

Eddie finished eating and said nothing at all. He simply stared at Tristan for a few minutes and then looked back over his shoulder at Smelly Guy before turning to leave the room. The huge man lumbered into the room and started around the bed. The path to the doorway was clear, and Tristan jumped over the bed and raced out into the hall, making for the stairs. He’d seen that Eddie had turned left, so he raced straight on and down the stairs. If they were the only ones in the house, he might just make it.

At the bottom of the steps, Tristan glanced around and headed for the front door as sets of heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs behind him. He took off for the front door as fast as his legs could carry him. He reached for the knob, turned it, and was about to pull it open and race out into the street and freedom when someone crashed into him from behind. The door slammed closed with Tristan pressed against the wood.

The weight pressed on him harder, the smell nearly knocking him over. “That wasn’t smart,” Smelly Guy said, and then Tristan’s feet were kicked out from under him, and he collapsed onto the floor.

“Take him upstairs. I’m tired of this shit. These games are over.” Eddie grabbed him by the hair, and Tristan scrambled to his feet as pain radiated through his head. Eddie turned him to face him before backhanding him across the cheek. Tristan fell back to the floor from the force, his cheek burning, and he tasted blood.

Then he was hauled back to his feet. The blanket had fallen away. Eddie whipped him around, grabbing his arm and forcing it up behind him.

“Eddie, you’re….”

“Do you think I care? Maybe if I break both your arms, you’ll think twice before pulling something like that again.” He marched Tristan back up the stairs, but instead of throwing him back into the same room, Eddie dragged him to a different one. This one was a little nicer, and the bed was larger and made up. But otherwise, it was just as shabby as the other one. Eddie picked him up off his feet and literally tossed him roughly onto the bed.

Tristan squealed and landed in a tangle of arms and legs, trying to keep from falling off the other side.

“Oh no you don’t,” Eddie spat and grabbed one of Tristan’s legs, pulling. Tristan kicked and fought, but Eddie again wrenched his arm to the point where Tristan expected it to break at any second. Pain bloomed all through him, and he stilled completely. “Good,” Eddie crooned and eased off slightly.

A bell tinged, and Tristan began to fight again. “Hold him,” Eddie said, and force was applied to Tristan’s shoulders.

“Eddie, don’t do this,” Tristan whimpered as hands grabbed his ankles and forced his legs apart. He tried to kick, but the hands simply held him tighter, making his feet tingle.

“Eddie,” a voice called from downstairs. “Eddie, are you here?”

“Fuck,” Eddie swore, and Tristan breathed slowly, unable to stop the whimpers that rose from his throat. The pressure on his ankles eased, and then he was released. “Take him back to the room and lock him up.”

Tristan was manhandled to his feet and thrown back into the other room. He managed to land on the bed rather than the floor as the door slammed shut after him and the lock slid closed with a loud scrape.

His heart still pounded, and he shivered from head to foot, the bed shaking along with him. What in the hell was he going to do when Eddie returned? And he was damned sure that Eddie was going to come back, and there was no doubt about what was in store for him when he did. “Harry, please, you have to save me,” Tristan whispered, almost like a prayer. Then the tears came, and he curled into a ball on the bed and let them.

H
OW
LONG
Tristan stayed that way he had no idea. He was afraid to move and tried his best to numb everything. Eddie was going to hurt him and take away… he didn’t want to think of what Eddie was going to do.

Tristan moved to the edge of the mattress and reached under it. His fingers touched the metal, and he pulled out the scissors and the tweezers, clutching one in each hand. When they came for him, he was going to fight and do as much damage as he could before they hurt him. He had to fight. He probably wouldn’t win, and God knew what Eddie would do to him after Tristan buried the scissors in him. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t just give up. Tears formed in his eyes again. Tristan got off the bed and pushed the window open. A slight breeze ruffled the yellowed curtains. He thought about leaning out and screaming at the top of his lungs, but with the traffic, car horns, and who knew what else going on outside, it wasn’t like anyone was going to react. Instead he leaned against the windowsill and said a silent good-bye to his parents. “You never understood who I am, but I love you both,” he whispered and let the wind take his words. Then he thought about Harry, and his throat clenched as a huge lump formed. “I love you, Harry. I really do.” He closed his eyes and brought up Harry’s smile. What he wouldn’t give to see that again. He said good-bye to each of his friends and then pulled back inside and once again lay on the bed, curling into a ball. He wished he had his blanket. There was nothing for him to cover up with, and he’d never felt more exposed.

It didn’t matter. As soon as he attacked Eddie, that would be the end. He grew more convinced of it by the second.

He kept expecting to hear steps on the stairs and waited for the door to open. But he heard nothing. Maybe Eddie had calmed down and was going to leave him there. Time ticked on and on. He thought about asking to go to the bathroom just to see if anyone was still out there, since he’d heard nothing at all. But then again, they weren’t likely to let him out again. He was a prisoner, and he was going to stay one.

Tristan watched the door, clutching his weapons in his fists, ready to pounce. How long he stayed that way he didn’t know. Time seemed to have little meaning except that the light from the window began to fade and took on a reddish tinge. It must be getting late in the day.

A thud sounded in the hall outside the room. Tristan stiffened and waited. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the lock slid back. Tristan stiffened and got ready, weapons hidden but poised to do as much damage as possible to whoever was on the other side of that door.

It opened slowly. “Tristan.” The voice was familiar and the door opened further. Spook stepped into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. “Thank God I found you.”

“Spook,” Tristan whispered. He released his hands, dropping the weapons on the floor.

“Shhh, I knocked out the guy outside the door, but we need to get out of here.” Spook pulled off his shirt and tossed it to him, leaving him in a T-shirt. “Put that on.” Tristan tugged on the shirt, and wondered what he was going to do for pants. Before he could ask, Spook toed off his shoes and dropped his black jeans. Then he skinned off his boxers and tossed them over, and Tristan caught them. Spook pulled his jeans and shoes back on in record time. “Put those on and we’ll get the hell out of here.” Spook went back to the door, listened, and stepped back in the room. He pulled a small phone out of his pocket and pressed a number.

“Bull, I found him. Call the police and tell them Tristan has been found.” He rattled off an address on State Street. “Advise them if they come quietly, they might get the whole enchilada.” He hung up, and Tristan followed him to the door. Spook pulled it open and they headed for the stairs. No one challenged them, and on the ground floor, Spook motioned Tristan toward the back door.

Tristan walked as quietly as he could, his entire body sprung tight with energy. Near the back of the house, Tristan found an old pair of sneakers. They were too big, but he threw them on and stayed behind Spook, curling his toes and moving as fast as he could.

“Stay here,” Spook whispered and approached the back door. He pulled it open, and the two men standing outside were too shocked to do anything before Spook laid them both out cold. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They ran through the backyard and out the rusted gate to the alley. Spook picked up his speed, and Tristan kept up until Spook pulled open the door to an old, dark sedan. Tristan jumped in, sliding across the seat with Spook right behind him. Spook started the engine as soon as he had the door closed and gunned it, taking off like a rocket.

“How did you find me?”

“We figured out that Rodney was working for Eddie, so I followed him. It was Bull’s idea, and paid off big-time.” Spook continued driving. “I laid Eddie out in the living room as well as the smelly thing upstairs. Don’t think there were others, but I don’t know. Needed to get you out of there.”

“Where are we going?”

“Harry’s. He’s been nervous as hell about you.” Spook slowed down as police cars approached, then passed them. “They should have quite a surprise waiting for them. The place is full of enough evidence to put Eddie away for a long time, and with his stooge in the department out of commission, this one is going to stick like glue.” Spook pressed a button on the dash. “Call Harry.”

“Hello.” Harry’s voice came through the radio.

“Harry, it’s me,” Tristan said tearfully. “I’m with Spook, and he’s bringing me to you.” Just hearing Harry’s voice was enough to break the dam that held back his fear. He shivered, and tears ran down his cheeks.

“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked.

“He’s okay,” Spook answered when Tristan couldn’t. His throat was too constricted, and all that seemed to happen were the tears that ran down his face. “I got him out, and Bull called the police. You can call them from your place, and they can speak with Tristan there. He’ll need clothes. We had to improvise a little, but he’s okay.”

“He didn’t do anything to me, but he was going to,” Tristan croaked.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with Spook. Just get here, okay?”

Tristan nodded.

“We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” Spook hung up and placed another call.

“Bull, I have Tristan, and we’re heading for Harry’s. He’s fine but very shaken up.”

“What do I say about how he got free?” Bull asked.

“Tell them that a member of your security staff was able to rescue him,” Spook said.

“I’ll do my best,” Bull said and hung up.

Everything was happening so fast, Tristan couldn’t keep up and didn’t try. He sat quietly and waited until Spook pulled into Harry’s drive. Harry was standing by the front door and hurried to the passenger side of the car before it had even pulled to a stop. Harry yanked the door open, and Tristan got out and fell into his arms, breaking down into tears right there in the driveway. Harry held him tight and guided him toward the door.

Once they were inside, the last of Tristan’s fortitude deserted him, and he broke into sobs. He’d been as strong as he could during the ordeal, but now all the fear and trauma poured out of him. “I’m sorry,” Tristan cried as the tears continued flowing. “I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you’re here and you’re safe,” Harry told him, stroking his hair as Tristan went on and on, crying, clutching at Harry.

“He almost…. He was going to….” Tristan tried to speak, but his words choked off, and he gasped for air. Harry kept holding and soothing him, his touches gentle and reassuring.

“Should you go before the police get here?” he heard Harry ask Spook.

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, and Tristan looked up from where he’d buried his face into Harry’s shoulder. “You’re going to be all right.” Tristan swallowed hard and did his best to stop blubbering. “You were ready to fight. He didn’t break you, and he didn’t get to your heart.” Spook crouched down next to the sofa, where Harry must have propelled them. “Somehow you got weapons and were ready to use them. That shows brains and cunning. No matter what, remember that. You were strong, and you did good.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Tristan whimpered. “I was scared to death.”

“Of course. But you used your fear to sneak weapons and to arm yourself. You thought and stayed alert, making use of what was around you.” Spook stopped. “I’d be proud to have you on my side anytime.” Spook smiled and stood up. “I mean it. Not many people would be able to do what you did. So remember that.” Spook turned, and Tristan watched him go.

“Do you think he really meant that?” Tristan asked with a sniffle. He was finding it hard to believe.

“I’ve never known Spook to say what he didn’t mean. If you want confirmation, I suggest you ask Jeremy, but I’m sure he’ll say the same thing.”

Tristan took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I need some clothes.”