Angelo sat down on Jules’ bed and picked up his pillow, hugging it to his chest. He pressed his face into the softness, breathing in the boy’s scent; a sweet concoction of bubble bath and puppy. The tears he’d been suppressing flooded forth as he clung to the pillow. Please, God, protect him and help us bring our baby boy home.

He didn’t hear anyone enter the room but suddenly sensed someone sitting beside him. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and he raised his head, captured in the stare of the Egyptian’s gray eyes; eyes that seemed much more willing these days to expose the man’s deeper emotions. “Clint made a call to Cruz. He and his men are heading out now to search all the areas of the city and outskirts where Adrian said they might hole up. We will find them, and we’ll bring Jules home. And anyone who gets in our way…” He left the sentence unfinished as his eyes said the rest.

Angelo swallowed, his heart a painful knot in his chest. “When Jules first came here, he was so terrified of having to go back to Tazz and Blade. And now, he’s out there with them…scared to death.” Tears refilled. “Adrian is trying to tone down the threat for my sake, but I see it in his eyes…he’s scared sick of what they’ll do to Jules.” His jaw tightened, pinching the muscles in his face. “If they hurt him…”

“We’ll skin them alive,” Cochise muttered coldly. “After we beat the living fuck out of them.” His grip on Angelo’s shoulder tightened with assurance. “But we’re not going to wait around for them to cause him harm. Adrian will wait for Tazz’s call, but Clint and I and Cory and Colton will hook up with Cruz and his men.” When Angelo stiffened and started to rise, Cochise shook his head. “You and Anthony wait here with Adrian. He needs your support. If we find them first, we’ll bring them back here to the guest room. Our first priority is finding Jules and getting him back home. Then we’ll deal with the fuckers who took him.”

Angelo trembled. “And Callum?”

Sliding his hand over his mouth, Cochise looked away. “The kid made his choice. He wants to be one of them, then he’ll suffer their fate as well.”

Nodding slowly, Angelo felt no pity for the kid who had stolen their child away.

 

♦

 

For an hour, Callum lay on top of his sleeping bag beside Jules, staring at the dark ceiling of the old room. Sleep was a distant notion. The anxiety twisting up his guts refused him any measure of rest. What would Blade and Tazz ultimately do to Jules? Why hadn’t he believed Adrian’s version of what happened to Jules’ mom? It wasn’t at all hard to imagine the two men taking out their rage on her. Callum had witnessed the evidence of their tempers, their brutality. The story he’d told Adrian was a lie, but he’d seen them do equally violent things. He hadn’t flinched at it because he understood that the strongest survived in this world of theirs. And being allowed to join them after escaping an abusive foster home, Callum recalled how privileged it had made him feel, like he was special or something, to be inducted into such a hardcore gang.

Special. Tazz and Blade and most everyone here had treated him like shit from the start. He was certain some of the guys would’ve used him as a fuck toy if Tazz hadn’t had such a fierce aversion to all things queer. That was one thing he could be thankful for.

Despite Tazz’s asshole ways, Callum had tried to model his thought process after the man’s own, hoping to gain his much-coveted favor. He’d been present at a few “gay bashings”, though hadn’t participated himself. But neither had he opposed it. Tazz had always presented queers as weak. Callum thought about the huge gangster who had caught him in the restroom at the honky-tonk club. He didn’t know if the man was queer, but his two friends clearly had been—and neither of them struck Callum as weak. And everyone in the gang knew that Adrian was a fag. But again, he wasn’t an image of weakness.

The pup whined, and Callum turned his head. The animal was lying with its paws over Jules’ body, watching Callum. He swore if an animal could display emotion in a stare, this pup would be condemning him for his crimes against the little boy. But it wasn’t necessary; Callum had already condemned himself.

“I’m sorry,” he told the dog with a strain to his voice. “I made a mistake. What am I supposed to do about it?”

The pup whined again and crawled off Jules, trotting over to the closed door. It was ridiculous to read anything into the pup’s actions since it surely just had to go to the bathroom, but when it turned and looked at him and scratched on the door, Callum felt like it was telling him what to do. Or maybe it just brought to the front of Callum’s mind what he had been thinking since he’d realized his mistake in taking Jules from his loving family; take them back home.

His heart began to thump hard at his ribs and he sat forward, glancing at the sleeping child. Fear coiled inside; Tazz and Blade would beat the fuck out of him if they caught him. The puppy ran back to Callum and scrambled into his lap, as if Callum had somehow communicated to the animal that he was, indeed, going to take them home. He pet the pup, holding it back from climbing up into his face. He looked at Jules again and heard his terrified cries from earlier. When he woke up…it would all come back onhim, and he would break down again when he realized all this wasn’t just a bad dream—and that he had really been stolen away from his family.

Callum wasn’t aware of his own emotions until the tear rolled down his face. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes, setting the pup off his lap. His heart pounded harder, thumping in his ears, as he hurriedly pulled on his shoes then peeled back Jules’ sleeping bag. He carefully wrapped the boy in his jacket and picked him up, trying not to wake him. If he went into a crying fit, their chances of getting out of there would be gone. The boy stirred a bit, but Callum murmured quietly, soothingly against his hair until he settled back into sleep.

“Come on,” he whispered to the pup. “Please don’t make any noise.” He went to the door and fumbled with the handle as he held Jules against his chest, very slowly drawing it open. The hinges protested. Not loudly, but to Callum, they were deafening.

The warehouse was dark, but Callum had a straight shot to the main section, then he could get out the rear door where the car waited. He had left the keys in the ignition. At least, he was pretty sure he had. But it didn’t matter; he knew how to hotwire a car.

The rubber soles of his sneakers made little sound as he crept down the small corridor. The structure was quiet. It was hardly five in the morning, surely everyone was still asleep. Callum found the large entrance into the main room. Some of the high-up windows let in faint light from the single street lamp outside, but the room remained heavily shadowed. Callum moved cautiously, fearful of bumping into something and alerting the others. He heard the pup run ahead, its tiny claws clicking on the concrete floor then a low, soft whine as it waited at the door.

Jules shifted in his arms. “Cowboy…” he mumbled when the puppy whined louder and pawed at the door.

“Shh,” Callum whispered to the dog. “Quiet, boy.” Jules came fully out of his slumber—and went into an instant panic, sobs piling up in his throat as he began to shift and squirm in Callum’s arms, trying to get free. “No. No, Jules,” Callum murmured anxiously. The boy started to cry, and Callum hugged him close. “Shh-shh-shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m taking you home—back to Adrian.”

The boy went still, trembling, breath hitching with sobs. “You…you are?”

“Yes,” Callum whispered. “But we have to be quiet, so no one hears us. Can you do that? We’re almost to the car, then we’ll be out of here.”

Jules choked on a sob and nodded.

“Good boy.” Callum kissed his head and moved a little quicker toward the door. The pup was getting too excited, too loud. “Cowboy,” he hissed low. “Shh.”

The door was thick and heavy, and Callum set Jules down to get a better grip on the handle.

“My boots,” Jules whimpered.

“What?”

“We forgot my boots,” he said desperately. “We have to get them.”

“No, we can’t,” Callum whispered. “We have to go.”

“Uncle Clint got them for me,” Jules cried.

“I’m sure he’ll get you some more,” Callum said anxiously and grabbed the door handle. “We have to go now, or Tazz and Blade will catch us. Okay? Please don’t cry.”

Jules swallowed his sobs and nodded.

Callum yanked on the door, but it refused to budge. “What the fuck?” He tugged a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, looking for a lock. His eyes widened, and heart sank, as the tiny flame flickered over the padlock. Fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Jules asked.

Callum swallowed anxiously. “The door…it’s locked-”

A bright light came on suddenly, illuminating half of the large room. Callum and Jules both gasped and jumped, fear striking their hearts as Tazz and Blade walked toward them.

“Told you he’d fucking punk out,” Blade smirked.

Tazz cocked an eyebrow. “Going somewhere, Cal?”

Jules hid behind Callum, hugging his leg, sobs bubbling up inside him.

“I…” Callum trembled, his knees growing weak. “This isn’t right,” he croaked. “We shouldn’t have taken him. He’s scared. He just wants to go home.”

“And I assume you were taking him home?”

Callum nodded, his stomach pinching, making him sick. “He’s really scared. He needs to go home.”

Blade stepped forward threateningly. “And who the fuck are you to make that call?”

Callum knew he was fucked even before Tazz’s fist nailed him in the face, dropping him to the floor hard. Jules screamed as he was snatched up by Blade. Callum tried to get up and caught a foot to his gut, slamming him against the door. Through his haze of pain, he heard the pup yelp and Jules scream louder.

Another kick to the stomach wrenched the last of Callum’s air away as his vision went dark and the sound of Jules’ cries slowly faded away.