Remy’s good hand snaked around to grip Shawn’s chin, and he pulled
Shawn’s head to the side until Shawn was looking into his sad brown eyes.
“Lies and the truth both have one thing in common, Shawn,” Remy said in a
low, steady voice. “They both have their consequences.”
XXVIV.
NIKOLAUS stood lookout while Carl and Gray took care of the body, and he
couldn’t have been happier to do it. He knew killing and torture were part of the job, and he wasn’t so oblivious that he didn’t realize the others had been shielding him from a lot of this sort of thing over the past four or so months, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to deal with.
He heard a distant splash and Nikolaus shivered as he thought about what
was happening. Remy had directed them to a little town called Lafitte, full of signs that offered Swamp Tours and bayous that stretched on forever. He had instructed
them to dump the body in the water and make certain that it was under something
heavy, so it would rot and attract the alligators.
Finally, Nikolaus turned his head slightly to see Carl and Gray walking
casually back toward him, and he jogged over to the car to jump in with them.
“Everything all right, then?” he asked cautiously as he shut the door and
scooted forward in the seat just to see Carl’s face.
“Yep,” Carl responded as he put the 4Runner in drive and sped away. “If
what Remy said is true, it’ll never be found.”
“Not in one piece, anyway,” Gray mumbled.
The car fell silent as they were all left with their own thoughts.
Nikolaus’s thoughts flittered quite a bit, bouncing from the body they had
just dropped into the bayou, to worrying over Remy’s mental well-being, to
wondering if they could really trust Gray, to thinking how fucking hot Carl looked in
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the flannel shirt he was wearing with his hair all shaggy and long like it had become.
They had all become shaggy, really. Even Gray was a little on the shaggy
side, and he seemed the type to be sort of prim and proper.
Why had Remy cut off his hair?
Nikolaus shook his head in agitation, trying to will his brain to pick one
thing to think about and stick with it. Christ, if this sort of mental rambling was what Remy dealt with all the time it was no wonder the other man was so flighty. When he looked around, he saw the familiar buildings of the French Quarter gliding past.
“Hey, look!” Carl shouted excitedly as he slammed on the brakes and sent
Nikolaus splatting into the back of the passenger seat.
“What the hell?” Nikolaus muttered angrily as he tried to untangle his limbs
and right himself.
“I think my seat belt just slit open an artery,” Gray murmured as he rubbed
his neck and glared at the other man.
Carl fumbled with his own belt and hurriedly exited the vehicle, leaving the
door hanging open and the 4Runner both running and still in drive.
Gray cursed and lunged forward as the vehicle rolled slowly, and he yelped
again as the belt restrained him once more. The more he struggled to be free of it the tighter it got, and Nikolaus found himself snickering helplessly as he tried to wedge himself between the two front seats and reach the brake pedal with his hand.
Carl came traipsing back and looked at them both impatiently. “Come on!”
he said as Nikolaus finally managed to press the brake and Gray threw the car into park.
They both glared out the open door at the larger man as he huffed
impatiently. Nikolaus squeaked when Carl grabbed him under the arms and yanked
him head first out of the vehicle.
“What… Carl! Affenschwanz,” Nikolaus grumbled as Carl carried him under
his arm like a piece of baggage for several steps and then set him down with a jarring thump on the pavement.
Gray barked a laugh, obviously having understood that Carl had just been
called a monkey’s dick in German.
“Look!” Carl said excitedly, ignoring them both as he walked over to a
storefront and peered into the window.
Nikolaus looked at Gray and they shrugged at one another.
“Uh, we’re not exactly loaded with extra time for browsing here, man,” Gray
said uncomfortably as he stepped up behind Carl and bent down to look at the objects Carl was frowning over. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, are you serious?” Gray asked
incredulously when he got close.
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His curiosity piqued, Nikolaus shuffled up to the window and looked in. An
array of silver, gold, mother-of-pearl, and cheaper multi-colored cigarette lighters were arranged in a case, along with various forms of paraphernalia that Nikolaus was pretty certain weren’t legal, and other assorted shiny treasures.
“Jesus, Carl, you’ve got one fuck of a sharp eye,” Nikolaus murmured.
Carl looked at him blankly and pointed at his own chest. “Sniper,” he said
sarcastically. Gray snickered and Nikolaus rolled his eyes and nodded. “I have to get him one. Is this place open yet, d’you think?” Carl said as a strange light shone in his eyes and he headed for the door to the establishment.
Nikolaus and Gray shared another blank look before hurrying to follow.
After an inordinate amount of time spent in the little specialty shop while
Carl looked at every lighter present, looking for the perfect one, they were once again in the car and on their way back to the others.
“What exactly compelled you to do that?” Gray asked curiously.
“He needs a new one,” Carl answered with a shrug.
Nikolaus was having difficulty understanding why exactly Carl would think
Brandt would be apt to toss out anything even remotely flammable, but Carl was
convinced Brandt wanted a new lighter.
“The other one’s been, I don’t know, tainted.”
“Tainted?” Gray repeated in disbelief.
Nikolaus groaned. Carl had returned to his normal, sweet self after his little
orbiting ‘episode,’ but Nikolaus was convinced that he’d burned up a whole shitload of brain cells upon re-entry.
Carl nodded vigorously and looked at Gray seriously. “What’s important to
you, Boss? Do you mind if I call you that?”
Gray opened and closed his mouth several times. “Uhh… no, but… no. It
won’t piss Shawn off, will it? Will he get the irony of that, d’you think?” Gray asked as he turned around and looked at Nikolaus.
Nikolaus shrugged. Who the hell cared? Whatever they called Gray, Shawn
would still kill him in his sleep tonight. Call him Cupcake, for all Nikolaus cared.
“We call the bloke ‘Beignet,’ for fuck’s sake,” Carl responded with a little
sneer. “I think he understands the concept of irony. You didn’t answer my question.”
“What was the question?” Gray asked distantly.
“What’s important to you?” Carl asked seriously. “Honestly.”
Gray shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “If I told you, you
wouldn’t believe me.”
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“Try us,” Nikolaus urged from his spot in the back seat.
Gray was silent for several seconds, and he finally glanced at them quickly
before answering in a quiet voice. “Friendship, I suppose.”
Nikolaus found himself with his mouth hanging open and quickly snapped it
shut. The double agent traitor bastard who’d
blackmailed Remy into service valued friendship above all else?
“Well, think of that being taken from you and warped into something that
can be used against you,” Carl said in a quiet, solemn voice.
Nikolaus heard all kinds of double meanings, considering what he knew of
Gray, and he wondered if that hadn’t been Carl’s objective all along.
Gray was silent for long minutes, and by the time he looked ready to say
something, they were pulling into the garage of the house on Royal Street.
XXX.
“HOW did you know who I was?” Thiago demanded for perhaps the fifth time in as
many minutes.
Brandt rolled his eyes and let his head thump onto the dining room table. For
a smart man, Thiago really was quite dense at times.
“Listen, Zed, and listen carefully,” Brandt mumbled into the tabletop. He
looked up and crossed his arms across the table and fixed the other man with a glare.
“Concentrate. I know you deal with a lot of people while acting as an evil
mastermind, and that you don’t recognize every face you see. But when one of your subordinates sees you, we remember. You know me by my code name, yeah?
Therefore, you know that I’ve been with you since the beginning.”
“But how did I not… how did you… how did….”
“Concentrate!” Brandt hissed, not really believing that he was the one having
to say that to Thiago. Usually it was the other way around. “I was a member of your group on that raid five years ago. The one where we found the files that started this whole fucking thing. You remember that, yeah?” Brandt asked sarcastically, wondering if he was going to have to give Thiago a brief ‘History of Being the Bad Guy’ for good measure.
Thiago cocked his head and squinted at Brandt. “Yeah. Shit. You were the
one who blew the door for us. You had short hair then. And you were clean-shaven,”
Thiago said as realization dawned. “It changes your look a lot.”
“Yeah, that’s sort of the point. Jesus, you need a nap or something,” Brandt
said as he rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“And you were a hell of lot more wiry,” Thiago muttered as he cocked his
head at Brandt.
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“I bulked up some,” Brandt huffed defensively.
A thump sounded from somewhere in the house and Brandt cocked his head
to the side to listen. It could have simply been a door shutting. But then, it could also have been a body hitting the floor upstairs. “Should we check on Beignet and Dixie?”
“No,” Thiago said absently as he stared at Brandt. “I can’t believe I didn’t
recognize you.”
“It happens,” Brandt said flippantly. “And it’s not really like we had much
interaction on that mission. Group leaders rarely look their subordinates in the eye.
Makes it hard to order them to their deaths, I suppose. Look–”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Well, you’re the boss, right? I assumed you had a reason for completely
ignoring one of your most trusted lieutenants. Now–”
“But when we were alone, you could have said something.”
“When we were alone I was fucking you. Seems to me, a conversation of
this sort would be a bit of a mood killer, don’t you think? Besides, I tried to. In Sydney, remember? I told you I was with you no matter what you decided. I love
these blokes, every one of them, but you say ‘strike’ and I’ll get the matches, yeah? I won’t kill Trigger, though, or Beignet or Dixie, or Gizmo for that matter. Actually, I won’t kill any of them, but… is Asshole by any chance in need of killing?”
“Gray’s code name is Friday. You’ve dealt with him before,” Thiago
answered in low voice.
“You’re shitting me! Gray is Friday?” Brandt hissed in a disbelieving
whisper. Thiago nodded. “But– goddammit, I liked Friday! Now I can’t kill him,
either! Wait, so if Friday and Chimera were the ones doing the inside work, then….”
“Remy is Chimera, yes. Jesus, I can’t believe this. First Remy, now you.
Who the fuck else is working for me that I don’t know about? Fuck me, I really need to make an employee roster or something,” Thiago murmured disgustedly as he ran
his hands through his hair. “I can’t fucking keep track of you all.”
“You’ve got a lot of employees,” Remy’s soft voice said from the doorway.
Brandt flinched and looked over at the other man in surprise. He was leaning
casually against the doorframe, but Brandt could see the flames licking just beneath the calm surface. It took crazy to see crazy, and man, could Brandt see it now.
“Maybe you should recruit personally instead of sending your flunkies to do
it,” Remy suggested icily as he prowled into the room. “Beignet, they’re in here!” he called in a voice that was louder than strictly necessary.
What the hell had happened to the man? Brandt had known that he was a
borderline case from the beginning, and from time to time, he could see the wildfire spark in Remy’s actions, but this was a constant, controlled crazy now. Something
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had to have triggered it. Brandt tensed in expectation of the inevitable ‘bam’ that always came when someone who was teetering on the edge finally took the final
plunge.
He watched the Cajun prowl around the room with interest. He was still
shirtless and the white linen pants were still riding low on his tanned hips. But his hair was wet, and his wound was bleeding as if from overexertion. At least he and Shawn hadn’t been fighting.
Brandt felt a slight stab of jealousy at the thought of Shawn and Remy
fucking, but at least now he recognized it as lust, and not love. Shawn was a good fuck, especially when he was in a temper. Over the last month Brandt had been the only one Shawn had really spoken to or touched at all, and they’d had plenty of
sleepless nights to work out their feelings for one another.
Shawn loved Remy and always would, that much was clear. Brandt found
that he was glad for it. He wanted to see Remy and Shawn together. He wanted them both happy, so long as he still got to fuck both of them occasionally.
Brandt enjoyed being dominated by Shawn, and he enjoyed the interaction
he had with the other man. But it wasn’t love, and Brandt was fine with that.
Shawn tolerated him, and was, perhaps, amused by him. But he didn’t
understand him. Not really.
“Hey, Dix– uh… what am I calling you now?” Brandt asked uncomfortably,
belatedly realizing that his attempt to calm the younger man may simply have wound him up further. Brandt didn’t want to be shot at again.
“I don’t fucking know,” Remy spat. He stopped and stared at Brandt for
several seconds and his countenance softened. “I’m sorry I shot at you, Wally. Again.
I missed on purpose, y’know,” he added with a little shake of his finger.
Brandt nodded in recognition and looked at Thiago briefly. The Argentinean
was watching Remy keenly, but he looked more amused than wary, and Brandt
relaxed a bit further. If Thiago trusted the man still, then so did Brandt. “What’s your code name, Wally? Which one are you?” Remy asked suddenly.
“What?” Brandt asked in alarm. He frowned worriedly. This was bad. How
much had Remy heard? How much did he know already and how much could Brandt
tell him without jeopardizing everything? Thiago had been unclear about that during their brief little talk.
Remy
walked over and bent over him, leaning his hand against the table and
getting right into Brandt’s face. He stayed there, looking at Brandt closely. “You’re the one who got Evan Washburn out, aren’t you?”
Brandt blinked at him. “How did you… how did you know that?”
“He said the agent sent for him pulled out all his teeth and then set his van on
fire. Blew it up. That was you, wasn’t it, you crazy bastard? You knew him. But it
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wasn’t on some mission in fucking Asia or wherever. It was in Prague. I did hear you say Prague that day at the cabin.”
“Wait, wait… you’re right about all that, mate, but I didn’t say Prague,”
Brandt insisted.” How you skewed that one, I don’t know, but–”
“Are you sure?” Remy asked almost desperately. He was so cute when he
was desperate, Brandt just wanted to grab him and fuck him into oblivion. Well, he always wanted to do that, but even more so now.
“Positive, mate,” Brandt responded after licking his lips and drinking in
Remy’s scent. “You must have linked him to Prague through something else.”
“Fuck me,” Remy cursed as he stood back up.
“Whenever you’re ready, Dixie,” Brandt said with a cheeky little wink.
Remy growled at him and started pacing once more.
“As soon as the others get back, we’re having the come to Jesus meeting,”
Remy said in a low, tired growl.
“We’re what?” Thiago asked in alarm.
“Everyone is spilling. Including you, canaille. Sneaky bastard.”
“Remy?” Shawn’s voice called from the stairs.
“In here!” Remy yelled without taking his eyes off Thiago.
“Are you two okay?” Thiago asked in a low voice, nodding his head at the
other room to indicate that he was talking about Shawn and Remy. “Did you talk at all?’
“No, we didn’t! And I’m tired of the fucking secrets, Thi!” Remy bellowed
at almost the exact moment that Gray, Nikolaus, and Carl walked through the door
from the kitchen.
“Uh oh,” Gray murmured as Shawn came in through another entryway, and
they all stood staring at one another blankly.