Psycho, page 22
“I hope you mean the dog breed,” Noah said.
“As if Atticus would ever lower himself to bed a mere boxer. He’s saving himself for an heiress,” Asa said around a laugh.
“Enough!” Thomas shouted. “Just be aware that there may be guard dogs on the premises.”
“You’re not going to hurt the dogs, right?” Noah asked. “Right?” he reiterated at their silence. He turned to level a glare at his fiancé. “Adam Mulvaney, if you hurt a dog, don’t bother coming home.”
Lucas felt some level of amusement at the way Adam’s jaw dropped. “I—Wha—We don’t even know there are dogs!”
“I can’t believe you’d even consider hurting a dog,” Noah said, brooding.
Adam looked to the others, flummoxed. “How am I in trouble for hurting invisible dogs? What is happening right now?”
“But if there are dogs?” Noah prompted.
“If there are, we’ll make sure they’re not hurt,” Adam muttered obediently.
“Not one hair on their fuzzy little heads,” Noah repeated vehemently.
Archer snickered. “You’re so whipped.”
Adam flicked him off. “You’re just mad you curl up with a whiskey bottle every night.”
“Jesus Christ. Can we just get on with it?” Atticus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We still have no way in,” Avi reminded them. “What’s our best bet?”
“We could scale the razor wire, hit ‘em from the back,” Asa suggested.
“No,” August said. “We go in through the front.” He stood, walking to the screen. “We position Asa and Avi here and here, on either side of the bay doors. Lob flash bangs in and lower the doors while they’re blind. The rest of us go in during the melee. Lucas and Atticus can advance into this back area, clear the rooms, then sweep the yard. Then we find Cricket and torch the place on the way out. After, have Calliope deliver evidence to the cops implicating the squeaky clean Russian.”
It was a good plan. Complicated given the logistics, but it was clear August and the others had executed a large scale massacre before. The only one looking even slightly concerned was Noah. Lucas was almost positive he was still worried about the dogs that may or may not exist within the junkyard.
“Why am I babysitting?” Atticus asked.
“Because you kind of suck at killing,” Adam reminded him.
Atticus seethed. “Are you never going to let this meat cleaver thing go?”
“It’s not just the meat cleaver, bro. You’re just…unlucky,” Asa said.
Avi nodded. “It’s true. You look like an overgrown leprechaun but you got screwed out of the luck part. Bad shit just follows you. Embrace it.”
“Fuck all of you,” Atticus said, pouting.
Lucas glared at Atticus. “I’m a trained FBI agent. It’s not like I don’t know my way around an extraction.”
Archer snickered. “You’re an egghead, poppet. Embrace it.”
“Yes. When was the last time you had to qualify on the gun range?” Atticus asked.
“When was the last time you did?” Noah countered, holding his hand out for Lucas for a fist bump, which Lucas begrudgingly returned. He appreciated Noah having his back without asking for receipts. Atticus wasn’t wrong. Lucas hadn’t had to qualify with a weapon because he rarely had cause to carry one in his line of work. It had been a while since the academy. But he had no doubt he could do what needed to be done.
“Fine. I’ll go with Lucas. Atticus is with the others,” August said. “I won’t be able to focus with you out of my sight anyway.”
Lucas’s heart flip-flopped in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the feeling he was blushing.
“We have a plan. Does everybody know what they’re doing?” Thomas asked, once more cutting through the banter.
“Does it even matter, Pop?” Asa asked. “It all goes to shit at the last minute anyway.”
“It’s true,” Avi parroted. “The objective stays the same. Get the girl, kill the bad guys, destroy the evidence. Don’t get caught. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.”
“Don’t get dead,” Thomas said drolly. “Dismissed.”
The moonless night was on their side, as was the near deserted location. During the day, the area was bustling with dozens of manufacturers creating everything from storm shutters to neon signs. But once the sun went down, most people went home, blanketing the neighborhood in darkness.
The building was ancient. Pieces of concrete had worn away in chunks, and the once orange trim was now a rust color. There were giant cracks and divots in the parking lot, but it didn’t stop the men from parking their overpriced cars in front of the open doors, allowing them to work on them as they talked and drank with their friends.
To the casual observer, they were just a bunch of drunken fools, laughing a little too loud, partying a little too hard. But inside the doors, tacked up on one of the side walls, was a Nazi flag right next to the American flag. The men wore runes inked on their skin, symbols stolen from the Norse Vikings and co-opted to represent hate. Even from across the street, their casual use of slurs carried.
Lucas checked his watch. There was only forty-five minutes until their little show began. He raised his binoculars, scanning for Asa’s and Avi’s heat signatures, making a frustrated sound when he saw nothing. “What are we waiting for?”
“People are getting into position. I know you want to get Cricket out of there but we only get one shot at this.”
“I know,” Lucas muttered, raising the binoculars to his eyes once more just in time to see the twins closing in on either side. They were dressed head to toe in black, wearing balaclavas that hid their faces. They carried guns with silencers in one hand and a canister that resembled a can of shaving cream in the other.
Avi held up two fingers, letting them know they were clear to cross the street. They met Atticus, Archer, and Adam at the corner, hunkering down on one knee. “Remember, when they give the signal, you go straight to the back. Find Cricket and get out. If you run into somebody you don’t know, shoot to kill.”
“And if we run into Cujo?” Atticus grumbled.
“Run,” August suggested.
Atticus glared at August. “Great advice.”
“Ready?” August asked. They all nodded. August pressed the comms button. “Ready?” he whispered to the twins.
They gave a single nod as one.
“Go.”
After that, everything happened at once. They rolled the canisters into the group of men, and, as expected, it took a few moments for them to process this was an attack. By then, the twins were rolling the doors down, slamming them shut and locking them with heavy black devices.
Adam kicked in the office door just as a man stumbled into the room, holding his eyes. Adam dropped him with a headshot before they broke into two groups—Adam, Atticus, and Archer moving into the garage with the twins, August, and Lucas advancing forward, August in the lead.
Lucas kept his gun raised but his hand off the trigger, some part of him secretly concerned he’d accidentally shoot August in the fray. While their weapons were silent, the responding gunfire was deafening.
In the hallway, a man came running from a back room, running headfirst for August. Lucas pulled the trigger, catching the man in the shoulder. August’s hands moved so quickly Lucas didn’t even see the cuts he made, only the aftermath of blood bubbling from the man’s lips. They stepped past him, moving deeper into the building, kicking open doors and clearing them as quickly as possible.
At the final door, they found themselves spit out into the junkyard. There were cars stacked like metal towers on either side, creating a dizzying maze of twisted metal. August pulled his gun but kept his knife in his non-dominant hand as he swept the space for stragglers.
When they took another turn, Lucas was certain he’d never be able to backtrack his way out of the place, but it didn’t matter because they’d found what they sought. The shipping container.
August pointed two fingers at his eyes, then in the opposite direction, clearly telling him to keep watch as he disengaged the metal lock, swinging the door open, weapon raised. The smell hit Lucas first. Even without looking, he knew there was a corpse in the container. He couldn’t help himself. He had to look. He had to know if they were too late. August hopped up into the trailer, turning the girl so her face was visible in the barely-there glow of the filthy security light sitting high on a concrete pole in the center of the metallic sea.
Lucas’s stomach unknotted when he realized it wasn’t Cricket, but his relief was short-lived. A girl was still dead, somebody who shouldn’t have had to endure that level of horror. She’d been there for some time. Rigor had set, then passed, her body starting to give in to the gases that released after death. August closed milk white eyes with his gloved hand.
These men were so cocky, they literally just left the bodies where they fell until they were ready to dispose of them. Fucking pricks. He’d seen a million cases, had interviewed hundreds of serial killers, but it had always been so abstract. None of it had really penetrated until Kohn, until this. The level of venomous hatred coursing through him felt lethal. Fuck.
Lucas’s gaze darted upward to August’s. “She’s not here. Where the fuck is she?”
Lucas’s eyes widened as August raised his arm and fired. He spun around to see a man get knocked off his feet.
“My guess is she’s wherever that guy just came from,” August reasoned.
August dropped from the container, motioning for Lucas to follow, like that wasn’t already the plan. They turned down another narrow passage lined with crushed metal, sweeping left to right, Lucas checking their six as they slowly advanced in the only direction possible.
A piercing shriek cut through the space followed by, “Get the fuck off me, you stupid motherfucker!”
There was a grunt and a groan. “Ow. Get back here, you crazy cunt.”
August and Lucas bolted towards the girl, running directly into a terrified Cricket, whose hands were zip tied so tightly her wrists appeared purple. When August caught her, she looked back and forth between the two of them with wild eyes. Lucas quickly remembered she couldn’t see their faces.
“It’s us. It’s us. You’re okay.”
A tall heavyset bald man lumbered around the corner, wheezing and limping. Cricket gasped, backing herself into Lucas as she realized he was the lesser of two evils. August jabbed his knife into the man’s carotid and twisted before pulling it free. The man coughed, spraying blood as he fell.
Lucas turned Cricket to face him. “Are there any more like him coming?” Cricket shook her head, appearing dazed. “Then let's get the fuck out of here.”
“Wait! No,” Cricket shouted, yanking herself away from Lucas and taking off for where she’d come from.
Lucas threw a confused look at August, who shrugged and ran after her. They found her trying without luck to unlatch the second shipping container lock.
“Help me,” she snapped.
Lucas jumped into action, letting August keep watch this time. Inside, three girls huddled together, all of them filthy, half-dressed, and extremely malnourished. “They’re alive,” he mumbled to himself. He looked to August. “What do we do?”
“Free them,” August said, nodding to the keys dangling from a hook just inside. Lucas’s hands shook but he managed to get them loose, helping them out of the shipping container.
August cut Cricket’s zip ties, rubbing her wrists. “You know who we are, yes?”
She looked back and forth between the two of them and then nodded.
“Nobody else can know. The others are dead. This building is about to go up in smoke. When I say so, I need you to take the girls and run. Do you understand?”
Once more, she nodded, watching them both intently.
August fished a phone from his pocket. One of several burner phones the Mulvaneys seemed to have on hand. “Get somewhere safe from the flames and then call 9-1-1. Tell them you don’t know what happened but that a group of men with Russian accents attacked the men inside while you were being transported and that you managed to free the others and get away.”
Cricket just stared at him until August shook her gently. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” she managed, nodding slightly. “I understand.”
He handed the knife to Cricket. “Let’s go.”
Back in the shop, August stored the girls in the office until they were ready to start the fire. They found Atticus sitting on a turned over bucket, dabbing at a bite mark on his leg.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Lucas asked.
“I fucking hate dogs,” he snarled.
They’d gathered the bodies and stacked them in the garage, dousing them in fuel. Adam was crouched in the corner. “What’s he doing?” Lucas asked Asa.
Before Asa could answer, Adam stood, moving to reveal his find. “Guys, meet Lightning.” A dog with a smooshed face and more wrinkles than fur snorted, then drooled.
“That was their guard dog?” Lucas mused as the mutt panted heavily, licking at Adam’s hand.
“I’m going to bring him home to Noah,” Adam said excitedly.
“That thing is not going in the Volvo,” Atticus vowed, pointing at the bulldog.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll ride back with the twins. They go home with dogs all the time.”
“We good?” August asked.
“Yeah, all we gotta do is light the fire,” Archer said, pulling free a match and a lighter.
August nodded, filing back into the office to speak to Cricket and the girls. “Go. Now. Find someplace safe from the fire. In ten minutes, call the police. Got it?”
She nodded, motioning to the girls, who skirted past August and Lucas like they were the bad guys. It made sense to be wary of men in face masks, Lucas supposed. Especially after what they’d been through.
Cricket was the last out, but she turned back at the last minute to look at August. “You’re still going to help me find a job, right?”
A smile spread across August’s face. “Most definitely.”
“Okay, be careful.”
With that, she was gone. They lit the match as they were walking out the door, Adam carrying his newfound friend. They’d almost made it to the car when the explosion happened, shaking the ground hard enough to knock them all off their feet.
August stood, helping Lucas to his feet. “Yeah, we gotta go. Right now.”
Lucas didn’t breathe again until they were back at Thomas’s house.
August found Lucas in his childhood bedroom, perusing his things like he was in a museum. He’d been quiet since they returned home. After they debriefed Thomas about their mission, Lucas had just sort of broken away from the herd with Noah, who seemed over the moon with Adam’s ugly four-legged present. Noah must have shown Lucas which bedroom belonged to August.
“You can touch if you want. If you have a deep need to dive down the rabbit hole of seven-year-old August’s brief love of fencing or my fascination with space.”
Lucas shook his head. “None of these things are you.”
August wrapped his arms around Lucas’s waist, relieved when Lucas relaxed against him. “How so?”
“You keep everything you care about with you. Your treasures. The important things are all lining the walls of your apartment or tucked away in boxes somewhere in your house. You don’t like the things you covet out of your sight.”
“Still putting that profiling brain to work, huh?”
Lucas gave a humorless laugh. “Is it over?”
“The twins took care of Kohn’s body. The fire at the junkyard is out, but it will take months for them to piece together what happened with what’s left. The rumor right now is meth lab.”
“Any word on Cricket?” Lucas asked.
“She’s already been released from the hospital. The other women were severely malnourished, and suffered some minor injuries, but none of them had made it to the main event. They are being held for fluids and observation. Atticus is still limping around like he went up against a great white and not a bulldog with sleep apnea.”
Lucas snorted, but any trace of humor quickly disappeared.
It made August uneasy. He didn’t know how to approach Lucas when he was in this strange mood.
“Are you alright, Lucas?” August asked.
Lucas craned his head around, expression pained. “Oof. I don’t like when you say my name.”
“What?” August asked, dumbfounded.
“When you say my name, it feels like you’re chastising me or something. Like…I don’t know. It’s just weird. You need to come up with some kind of term of endearment for me. Just not baby. It always sounds sleazy to me.”
August snickered. “That’s what Adam calls Noah when they’re having sex, so yeah. No thank you.”
“Your family is disturbingly close for a bunch of psychopaths,” Lucas mused.
August pulled his phone free, hooking his chin over Lucas’s shoulder so he could type in front of him.
“Did you just Google terms of endearment?” Lucas asked.
August scoffed. “Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to? What do we have on the list… Babe? Honey? Love? Sweetheart? Dove? Pet? Sugarplum?”
Lucas wrinkled his nose. “Ew. No. Too syrupy.”
August smiled. “Aren’t terms of endearment, by their very nature, supposed to be syrupy?”
Lucas pulled a face. “I suppose. But we’re not really syrupy people. We’re scientists. Professors,” Lucas reminded, as if that fact had escaped August.
August ran his nose along Lucas’s cheek. “Oh, I know. I very much like when you call me Professor. Just so you know.”
Lucas pressed his ass back against his now half-hard cock. “Good to know, Professor.”
August buried his face in his neck. “Don’t be a tease or I’m going to fuck you against the door of my childhood bedroom.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Lucas shot back.
August contented himself with placing open mouth kisses along the column of Lucas’s neck, then the shell of his ear. Lucas reached behind him to wrap his hands around the backs of August’s thighs, pulling him closer. “No. You will not distract me until we solve the problem at hand. What about umnishka?”
