Clint ground the Berretta into the back of the man’s skull. “Get up.”

“Can I do up my pants?”

“No. Get the fuck up.” Clint held the gun to his head as he slowly stood up, hands partially raised.

“You’re not getting out of here,” the man muttered low. “None of you.”

Keeping watch in the doorway, Cory chuffed. “You should be concerned about your neck, asshole.”

Clint shoved the man toward Cochise, who caught him and twisted him around, securing a firm hold on his jaw. He produced a large knife and pressed the blade to the man’s throat.

“Is this how you’re rewarded?” Clint turned back to the kid.

Callum was shaking as he pulled up his pants. “No,” he trembled. “This is how I’m punished.”

“For what?”

The kid swallowed and dragged the back of his hand across his face, wiping away tears. “For trying to take Jules home.”

Eyes narrowing, Clint frowned. “You tried to bring him back?”

Callum nodded. “Twice. But I got caught both times.”

“And for that, they were going to let this fucker rape you?”

“Yes,” Callum whispered, visibly shaken by the experience.

Clint looked at the man. “You get off on raping boys?”

The man’s face strained from Cochise’s tight grip. “Fuck you,” he ground out stiffly and spit in Clint’s face.

Wiping away the spittle, Clint stared at him without emotion. “Look away, kid.”

Callum hesitated then turned his back to them.

Clint nodded at the Egyptian and stepped back. Seconds later, the man lay dead on the floor in a forming pudding of his own blood. Cochise wiped off the knife and put it away.

“Where’s Jules?” Clint asked the boy.

Callum turned back around slowly, eyes widening as his stare fell on the dead man. More shocked than upset, Callum mumbled, “He…he’s out front, with the others.”

“What kind of weapons do they have?”

“Handguns, mostly,” Callum said. “I think they might be expecting you. Jules told them his real dad was dead, so now they’re thinking Adrian is just stalling.”

“They’re right,” Clint murmured. “Clearly.” He stared at Callum until the young man shifted nervously. “Why did you steal Jules then change your mind and try to bring him back?”

Lowering his gaze, Callum whispered, “It was Jules. When I saw how scared he was of Tazz and Blade…and the way they treated him…I knew I’d made a mistake. I didn’t know they would be mean to him.”

The kid was suddenly jerked forward as Cochise lunged at him, clutching his shirt. “If they fucking hurt him…” his face twisted in a vicious snarl and he tugged Callum closer. “…I will beat the living fuck out of you for bringing him here.”

Callum swallowed hard. “They didn’t touch him,” he croaked. “They were talking mean, scaring him, threatening to hurt his pup.”

“Did they hurt the pup?” Clint asked stiffly, his jaw tight.

“No, not really. But Blade might. He’s fucking crazy.” Callum looked at them uneasily. “I think if Tazz let him, he would…he would hurt Jules, too.” Callum’s eyes darted to the dead man and a visible shiver ran through him.

Clint glanced at the corpse. “Was this the first time?” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“Was this the first time you were handed over to this fucker, or someone else?” The kid just stared at him, lingering tears in his eyes. Clint frowned. “Were you raped before?”

Callum shook his head slowly. “No.”

Though his voice wavered, Clint detected no lie in his answer and was startled to feel a wave of relief seep through him. After Axel, and Donald, the last thing he wanted was to encounter more boys who had been viciously raped.

“Hey,” Cory spoke low. “Someone’s coming.” He and Colton withdrew from the doorway and out of sight of the corridor.

Clint heard the movement a moment later; a man’s voice and…Jules. The boy’s breath was hitching with sobs as he tried not to cry openly. Clint’s pulse spiked as fury exploded through him but he held his ground, kept his cool, and motioned for the others to move out of the center of the room and up against the wall. Cory stood stone silent to the left of the doorway, weapon drawn. Clint took position on the opposite side of the door, Berretta gripped in his fist.

“Quit your fucking whining,” the man growled at Jules. “If you were my kid, I’d fucking beat this shit out of you. No fucking way a son of mine would be a pussy.”

Cochise caught Clint’s stare and fiery indignation burned between them.

“That’s Blade,” Callum whispered.

The pup yipped suddenly—not from pain but excitement—and Clint heard its tiny claws clicking dully on the concrete floor as it took off down the corridor.

“Cowboy!” Jules cried and raced after the dog.

Clint nodded at Cory and the man sank to his heels and very lightly tapped the floor and whispered the pup’s name. Cowboy burst into the room, excitedly mauling Cory, climbing his chest. Cory suppressed a laugh and passed the pup to Callum and waited. Seconds later, Jules came through the door in a hurry and Cory scooped him up, immediately covering his mouth as the boy started to scream.

“Shh.” Cory stood up, lips pressed to Jules’ ear. “I got you, kiddo,” he whispered. “It’s just me.”

His breath surging into Cory’s palm, Jules’ wide eyes locked on Clint and he started to exclaim – “Uncle Clint!” – when Cory clamped his hand tighter over his mouth.

“Shh. Gotta be quiet, bud,” Cory murmured. “Okay? Not a sound.”

Jules nodded, his chest heaving with excitement as he was handed over to Colton. He threw his small arms around the man’s neck and clung to him for dear life. Colton and Callum moved back a little, giving way to the other three men.

“Hey!” Blade called out. “Where’d you go, you little shit? If you try to hide from me, this time I will fry up that fucking mutt of yours.” He approached the room with a casual stride and stepped through the doorway. “And eat him for breakfast-” Clint’s elbow nailed him in the face, dropping him to the floor. Blood gushed from his nose as Blade grabbed his face. “What the fuck-” Cory’s boot heel smashed into his jaw, landing Blade on his back.

Clint went to his knees, straddling the man’s waist. He clutched his throat and shoved the barrel of the Berretta between his eyes, grinding it into his skull. “No one fucks with our family.” Clint was on his feet an instant later, dragging the man off the floor. He slammed him against the wall, gun shifting, stuffed up under his chin. “Make a sound—just one fucking sound—and I’ll paint these fucking walls with your brains.”

Blade stared back at him, eyes wide and bloodshot, blood draining down his chin and soaking his shirt. His lips twitched in a snarl. “The cowboy,” he rasped. “The big, tough motherfucker who’s gonna beat me up.”

“That is the plan,” Clint said.

Blade glared at him. “I ain’t scared of you.”

Looking deep into his eyes, Clint leaned closer. “Yes,” he whispered. “You are.”

Blade trembled—then spit blood in Clint’s face.

Releasing a hard breath, Clint wiped his face. “The last man who spit in my face…” Clint turned his head and looked at the dead body.

Blade followed his stare, noticing the body for the first time. His face paled a bit.

“That fucker got off easy,” Clint murmured. “You’re not so lucky.” He turned to Cory. “Gag him and take him out back to Cruz.” He nodded at Colton. “Get Jules and the kid out of here. Wait for us outside. Do not come back in, understand? Send in Cruz, Sanchez, and a few of his guys but you stay outside. And Corrigan…” he looked at Cory. “You know what to do. We’re finishing this today, once and for all.” His focus returned to Blade, eyes cold. “No fucking loose ends.”

 

♦

 

The man holding Jules motioned to Callum to follow him. Callum cast Blade a quick look as he followed the man out of the room, Jules’ pup tucked in his arms. Blade was trying to put up a brave, unintimidated front, but like Clint…Callum saw the fear in his eyes. “I hope they shove a stick up your ass and fry you,” Callum mumbled as he passed by the man.

Blade started to snap back when the cowboy shoved him harder against the wall. “You think I’m bluffing, asshole?” He dug the gun harder under his chin. “This room could do with a new paint job.”

The man grunted, his face straining as the barrel of the gun gouged into his skin. Callum left him to the cowboy and other men and exited the room, glancing anxiously down the corridor as they headed toward the far end of the warehouse. He wasn’t sure how they had gotten in, but suspected they may have made their own door.

“You’re lucky, kid,” the man murmured as he led the way. “It’s good, for your sake, that you changed your mind and tried to return Jules to us. These guys weren’t prepared to show mercy to you or anyone involved in this.” He glanced back at Callum. “Believe me, you do not want to feel the brunt of their wrath.”

Callum didn’t need convincing. The Indian-looking guy and the cowboy scared the living hell out of him. The other one didn’t have a frightening “appearance” – in fact, kind of looked like a model – but his eyes radiated a warning that he wasn’t to be fucked with any more than the other guys.

By the time they reached the makeshift entrance, Blade—gagged and restrained—was being shuffled along after them by the model who kept a gun shoved into his back. When they stepped outside, Callum halted, shocked at the sight of all the men gathered together.

A bunch of pansy-ass faggots, huh, Tazz? Callum thought. You and your gang are going to die an ugly death.

One of the men popped a car trunk and Blade was shoved inside, the lid slammed down on top of him. “One down,” the model smiled. “One to go.” He turned to the man holding Jules and took the boy, hugging him hard, eyes dampening with tears. “I missed you, bud,” he whispered thickly. “Don’t ever scare us like that again, you hear me?”

The boy leaned back and flattened his palms on the man’s face and kissed him on the mouth. “Okay.”

Callum’s throat knotted unexpectedly as guilt quivered through his gut; all this was his fault.

“Cruz.” The model addressed the man who had opened the car trunk. “Bring some of your guys, we’re going into the belly of the beast.” He looked at the others standing by. “When you get the signal…light the fucker up.” He handed Jules back to the first guy. “Get these two out of here. Take them home. Dad and the others need to know as soon as possible that Jules is okay. We’ll be along shortly.” He cupped the man’s face and kissed him deeply. “I love you.”

The man licked his lips. “I love you, too. Be fucking careful.”

“Yes, sir,” the model grinned then kissed Jules’ cheek. “You’re going home, kiddo.”

Jules squirmed excitedly in the man’s arms. “Yay!”

Callum smiled, though a small knot twisted up his gut; home. The only home he’d known for years was the gang, and it had been a shitty home. Where would he call home now?