Tyler said, “Stay calm and you won’t get hurt. Yet.” He stepped up to Rusty, peering at him out the eyeholes of the mask, the gun muzzle up against Rusty’s chest. With a tug on Rusty’s shirt collar, he pulled him one step away from Cross, two steps. Then he slapped Rusty’s cheek, harder this time. “Not like you know how to keep out of trouble. You’re gonna learn.”
“Cut it out,” the other man growled at him. “I didn’t bail you out to fuck around. Money first.”
Tyler kept his gaze fixed on Rusty, breathing hard, his rank odor puffed into Rusty’s face as he trailed his fingers down Rusty’s cheek, then wrapped his hand loosely around his throat. Tyler’s pupils were dilated wide with excitement or drugs.
Rusty held his breath. Tyler tightened his grip slowly until Rusty’s neck ached, then let go. “Later.”
The masked men backed out of the room and shut the door. Rusty heard the sound of some kind of bar thumping into place, then their footsteps retreated. His throat burned. His chest throbbed where the muzzle of Tyler’s gun had sat. “I don’t think he’s quite normal.” His voice shook.
“The other dude said money. We’re no use to them dead,” Cross said loudly. He put his shoulders to the wall, eased down to sitting, and lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Hanging in there.” Rusty sat next to him, trying to relax and center, like he was facing a penalty kill. “I’m just glad your folks have money.” Because whatever Tyler meant bylaterwas scarier than a million-dollar ransom.
Cross leaned his head on Rusty’s shoulder and murmured, “See if you can spot any cameras.”
Rusty ran his gaze over the bare walls. At the same pitch, he said, “If there are any, they’d have to be in the rafters. Let me look.” He pushed to his feet and stretched, then decided there was nothing suspicious about a captive checking every inch of their prison. Methodically, he paced the room, staring upward, but spotted nothing more than clumps of spiderweb.How small can a camera be these days? How the fuck would I know?Turning to Cross, he shrugged.
Cross motioned with his chin, acome-heregesture. When Rusty slid back to the floor beside him, Cross breathed, “Can you get my wallet out and into my hands? Back right pocket.”
“Sure, I guess.” They turned back-to-back. Rusty worked his fingers into Cross’s jeans, got a grip on his wallet, and dragged itfree. Cross took it from him, did something, then the wallet fell between them.
“Should I get it again.”
“No. Hold still and let me work on your hands.” Cross fumbled between them, his fingers on Rusty’s wrist, then his handcuffs. Rusty heard a little click, then flinched as something narrow like a blade slid across his wrist.
“What?”
“Shh. Don’t move.”
Minutes crept by as Cross worked, then there was a grating sound and Rusty realized the band around one wrist had gone loose.
“That got it, right?” Cross asked softly.
“Yeah, I think so.” Rusty worked his hand free. “Yes.”
“Keep your hands like that, hold onto the open cuff like it’s still on, while I get mine.”
“Can you do your own?”
“Probably. It’s a bit trickier at this angle.”
Rusty stayed put, feeling Cross’s biceps rub against his own. Eventually, Cross said, “There. Done it.” He scrabbled on the floor between them for his wallet, did something to it, then slid it back in his pocket.
“Now what?” Rusty asked. “Do we lure them in here? Try to jump them?”
“Not unless we have to. Trust me?” His rising tone made that a question.
“Of course.”
Cross eased around beside him and leaned close to kiss him. Rusty let himself have this moment of comfort, his mouth open to Cross’s tongue, breathing together. The metal of the open cuff bit into his palm where he clenched it.
“Help is coming,” Cross murmured against his lips. “I promise, I swear. Not being cuffed is just to give us an added edge if it comes to a crisis. Pretend you’re still captive. Don’t do anything reckless. They have all the guns. But Amy will be coming.”
“Okay.” Rusty wondered what it would be like, to be so confident of rescue. He remembered that first night in Eugene, his truck wheezing like an asthmatic after the drive through the mountains. He’d had no resources except the scant money in his pocket, no backup. He knew now he could’ve called on Scott or Will, and gotten help, but he hadn’t been sure of it then.
“I promise,” Cross said again, then kissed Rusty some more.
If Rusty had to sit here in a windowless room with two douchebags with guns overhead, at least he had Cross to keep him company. Although he would far rather Cross was safely back in Portland. Their kisses were all comfort, not heat.
