Specter's Gamble - 25. Chapter 25

“So far so good,” Desmond thought when Rayhe casually asked him whether he wanted a drink. Gabriel wasn’t as bad of an actor as the assassin feared he would be. He was, in fact, surprisingly good and convincing.

“Yeah,” he said to the offer. “That would be good... I’m gonna take a leak,” he added and went to the bathroom.

The roar of the garbage disposal was his cue to come back into the kitchen.

“I could definitely use a drink right now,” he said, and Rayhe’s shoulders immediately got tense, which Desmond approved. “It’s been a while since my last one...”

Rayhe handed him a short glass, and Desmond gulped the whiskey down. He wasn’t lying when he said he could use a drink right now. Whiskey immediately spread a comforting warmth around his throat, and that made him feel somewhat better. Desmond knew that the drug Julian gave to Rayhe would usually kick in rather soon – five minutes, give or take.

“That was good,” he nodded with sincere satisfaction and set his glass on the counter. “Come on, let’s get to that safe...”

There was no safe in this house, Desmond knew that. He hoped that Rayhe would come up with a decent excuse to keep him in the kitchen. He did.

“Hey,” Gabriel said softly after he placed both hands on Desmond’s shoulders. The assassin blinked. Right now, Rayhe didn’t look like he was acting -- his eyes were sincere.

“What?” Desmond frowned slightly. “Something wrong?”

Instead of answering, Gabriel leaned forward and kissed his mouth, and Desmond’s eyes closed by themselves, even though the assassin didn’t intend to do that. Rayhe’s tongue wasn’t dominant right now as it usually was. Right now, it was slow, gentle, and insanely arousing. Desmond cursed silently in his head. Goddammit, he thought when suddenly, all he wanted to do was to push Rayhe against that counter and rip his clothes off. Goddammit, this is not the time! What the hell was Rayhe thinking, kissing him like this right now? He is going to pay for this later, Desmond thought helplessly, while his hand made its way onto the back of Gabriel’s neck. Oh, he is so going to pay for...

“I love you,” Rayhe said, and Desmond froze. Was it just an improvisation for Salamander’s sake and entertainment or... His eyes, Desmond thought. His damn dark eyes... They were... Sincere. The assassin stared at him, completely mute, when Rayhe added:

“I am sorry.”

That brought Desmond back to life, and he finally blinked.

“What...” he said, and then slightly swayed on his feet. “Wait...” he muttered and took his hand off Rayhe’s neck, so he could grab onto the counter. Now it was his turn to act well. “Wait...” he said again and slowly slid down onto the floor. He looked up at Rayhe, whose expression was grave.

Desmond managed to pour confusion, disbelief, and astonishment into his gaze.

“I am sorry,” Rayhe said again.

“You...” the assassin squeezed out weakly. “You drugged me... Why...?”

“I am sorry,” Gabriel repeated in a whisper.

Damn, we are good, Desmond thought, making sure that nothing reflected on his face. If they were doing this on stage, the audience would start weeping quietly right about now. Then he heard someone opening the front door of the house. Desmond prepared himself to see Salamander, but to his surprise, it wasn’t Julian. Instead, it was some man, whose built reminded Desmond of a wardrobe. The man smiled in a dark, eerie way and quickly walked towards the assassin. Desmond knew the 'I-am-going-to-hurt-you' look when he saw one, and this was exactly it. Well, crap, he thought. Here it comes...

He was right. The man kicked him in the ribs so hard that for several seconds, Desmond firmly believed that at least one of them was broken. He fell onto the floor with a groan he didn’t need to fake. He knew that he had another kick coming and gritted his teeth.

“Enough!” he heard Rayhe spit out. “Enough!”

To Desmond’s surprise, there was no other kick. Huh, he thought. Rayhe’s aura of authority worked, who would’ve thought... Then he felt his arms being twisted behind his back, and then there was oh-so-familiar feeling of the handcuffs being snapped onto his wrists. This is not good, he thought. This made it that much harder.

“You killed my brother, you son of a bitch,” the man said and rolled Desmond onto his back, staring into assassin’s eyes. Desmond tried to make his body as limp as he possibly could. “You broke his neck... Back in that house...” the man hissed. Ah, okay, Desmond thought. The idiot in the house was this buffoon’s brother. Then he felt the man’s fingers digging into his scalp, and a very unpleasant cold shiver ran down his spine. There was a good chance this buffoon might break his neck now.

“I should do the same to you,” the buffoon proved Desmond right. “Right now...!”

“Don’t!” There was Rayhe again with his aura of sharp authority.

To Desmond’s greatest relief, the buffoon’s hands relaxed and slid off Desmond’s head.

“The only reason I am not going to do it,” the human wardrobe said through his clenched teeth. “Is because Julian wants to kill you himself, you piece of shit!”

That’s right, Desmond thought. If you don’t follow Salamander’s orders, you’ll be beyond sorry. He groaned loudly when the man slapped his face so hard that for a second, Desmond saw stars. He forced himself to remain limp and disoriented.

“Let’s go!” the buffoon said shortly.

“Wait...” Gabriel muttered. “Let me...” he cleared his throat. “Let me say good-bye...” he finished in a pleading whisper.

“Your hands!” the buffoon said sharply, and Desmond froze. Crap, they know about Rayhe’s ability...

“Show them to me!” the buffoon commanded, and Desmond relaxed somewhat. He only wanted to make sure that Rayhe didn't slip anything to Desmond, like a knife or something else.

“Hurry up,” the buffoon said finally, and Rayhe lowered himself on one knee.

He slowly ran his fingers through Desmond’s hair and leaned forward. “If he kisses me the same way again, I will murder him,” Desmond thought gloomily. This time, however, the kiss was brief.

“I am sorry...” Gabriel muttered once more and gave the assassin a brief hug.

Desmond felt his fingers running over one of the metal rings on his wrist, and then he felt the said ring relax and slide off. He grabbed it with his fingers just in time before it fell onto the floor and made noise.

“Let’s go!” the buffoon grabbed Rayhe’s shoulder, forcing him to get up; he didn’t even glance at Desmond, to the assassin’s greatest relief.

He made himself lie still for several minutes after the front door slammed shut. Then he got up, slightly wincing from the dull pain in his ribs, and quickly went towards the back door of the house. It was unlocked, and Desmond silently thanked Rayhe. He quietly walked outside and glanced around, looking for Sam LeVoughn. There was nobody there.

“You gave me your word, you bastard!” he heard Gabriel scream around the corner of the house.

Dammit, Desmond thought feverishly. He didn’t have much time. Where the hell was the kid? He silently trotted towards the road. “I knew it,” he thought darkly. “I knew it! I knew that the little bastard wouldn’t show up! Goddammit...”

He was wondering which way Salamander’s car would go. If it goes the same direction as Desmond, then he is screwed. “And not in a good way,” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Desmond heard a screech of tires right behind him, and whirled around, almost positive that it was Julian.

“Get in!” Sam said in a soft, urgent voice. “Why the hell did you go to the road?!”

Desmond blinked.

“I waited for you for two-and-a-half hours!” the kid was almost raging right now. “Then you look right at me, turn around, and go to the road! What the hell? Get in already!”

Desmond blinked again and quickly walked to the passenger’s door of the car.

“I didn’t see you,” he said when he got inside.

“Well, you told me to make sure that nobody sees me,” the kid said with a shrug.

“I didn’t mean myself,” Desmond rolled his eyes, and the kid shrugged again.

“Yeah, well...”

“Go!” Desmond interrupted him. “Drive!”

Sam stopped talking and angrily threw the car in gear. “The kid sure knows how to drive,” Desmond thought, glancing at Sam when he picked up speed and was zooming down the empty road. A few minutes later, there was a loud explosive sound behind them, and Desmond turned his head to look behind his back.

“Holy shit!” the kid exclaimed, slightly tapping on the brakes. “What was that?!”

“Drive!” Desmond barked, and Sam immediately took his foot off the brake.

The house was nothing but a huge torch ripping the night apart with the flame.