Paying The Piper - 10. Chapter 10

Quent's cell phone rang a little after midnight. Even from his slumped position on the couch, he managed to answer on the second ring. "Quent," he barked. He eyed Cale, who was asleep in the chair across from him.

"Thank fucking God," a panicked voice said. "This is Drew Marcus."

"No," Quent replied, "this is a nightmare." He reached out with his foot and kicked Cale awake.

"What? Never mind. Listen, I'm over on Powder Mill Road. There's been a…I don't know. Marci's…dead."

Quent snapped awake. "How?"

"Shot. I think. Jesus…."

"Where exactly are you?" Quent hauled Cale from his seat and steered him out into the foyer.

"Um…about halfway down to the mill, I think."

"Alone?"

"Yes." The phone crackled with static.

"Don't move." Quent snapped his phone shut and pushed Cale out the door.

"I take it something bad has happened," Cale said with weary trepidation.

"What do phone calls in the middle of the night usually mean?"

Cale sighed as Quent started the car and accelerated out of the driveway. "That you'll be drinking my scotch again in the morning," he answered.

*********

By the time they arrived at the scene, Quent had filled Cale in on the phone call. Cale gaped at him. "Shouldn't you…call for back-up or something?"

Quent glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Rob?"

Cale scrubbed his hands over his face. "Good point," he replied.

Quent reached across and tried to snap Cale's seatbelt on, and Cale batted his hands away with an angry look. After a moment of petulant silence, he fastened it himself.

"Didn't you tell me just a few days ago that you wanted more excitement in your life?" Quent drawled.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a trip to the islands," Cale shot back. Quent accepted this with a grunt, and they didn't speak again until they'd reached Powder Mill Road.

The cars were exactly where Drew had said they'd be – halfway down the mill road. Quent parked and he and Cale approached the vehicles cautiously. Drew was standing outside his jeep, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. When Quent and Cale were a few feet away, Drew inclined his head toward the other car. It was the same one Quent had seen in Stahl's driveway earlier that day.

"She's in there," he choked. He pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped them around himself. "Dead."

Cale acted without thinking. He stepped forward, ignoring Quent's angry, "Cale!" and placed his hands on Drew's shoulders. "You all right?" he asked.

Drew locked his eyes with Cale's. After a moment, he took a shaky breath and nodded. Despite Drew's reassurance, Cale had to clamp down on the compulsion to step closer.

"Stay here," Quent ordered. He stalked off toward the other car as Cale mumbled an affirmative.

As soon as Quent turned away, Drew leaned forward. Cale pulled him the rest of the way, and just like that he had Drew in his arms. Immediately, his senses overloaded. He felt warm breath and the scratch of a day-old beard on his neck. He smelled stale sweat and coffee. He registered small tremors in Drew's legs. Unthinking, he tightened his embrace.

Beyond them, a car door squeaked open, and Drew jerked away. "Sorry," he murmured. "I usually have a stronger stomach for this kind of thing."

"It's okay." Cale reached out again.

Drew backed away. "Please, don't."

Cale dropped his arm. "I-"

"Cale!"

Cale spun around. He saw Quent gesturing to him. Warily, with one last glance at Drew, he approached the new sedan. "What?" he asked when he was still five feet away.

Quent was leaning inside the dark car. Cale couldn't see inside, but he could smell the same sweet coppery odor he had that morning. His stomach did a lazy roll. Quent ducked his head back out, took one look at Cale, and waved him off. "Call the ambulance. Then call Rob and have him get a crime scene team over here." He tossed over his cell phone.

Cale nodded and backed away. He returned to stand next to Drew and started dialing EMS. Suddenly, he heard a loud pop. Pain bloomed in his arm and he felt himself falling. As he went down, he thought he heard another gunshot. A loud rush in his ears drowned out any more sound, and Cale let the blackness have him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on the ground. Drew was laying half on top of him, panting softly, eyes searching the darkness around them. "Wha—" Cale croaked.

Drew shushed him. "Quiet."

Cale tried to obey, but the pain in his arm became more overpowering by the second. He whimpered softly, and Drew glanced down. The glow from the headlights was faint, but Cale could see the concern in his eyes. "Where were you hit?" he whispered.

"My…arm."

Drew rolled to the side and felt along Cale's arm until he found the wound. He probed it with his fingers. Cale clenched his teeth against the pain.

"Just grazed you," Drew whispered in his ear. "Those are always the most painful." Drew pressed his hand against the wound, stemming the flow of blood.

Drew's earlier words came back to Cale. I usually have a stronger stomach for this kind of thing. He was beginning to realize there was more to Drew Marcus than any of them had thought. "Who are you?" he whispered.

Drew looked up sharply. "Hush," he commanded. He leaned in close to Cale's ear. "Quent is out there now. Just stay quiet and still until he gets back." Again, he moved close to Cale, shielding him with his own body. He squinted into the gloom, but the road was pitch black. The headlights did little to illuminate the night. He looked back at Cale. "How are you doing?"

Cale's eyes were dilated but clear. "Better than I should be, under the circumstances." He shifted slightly under Drew, and their legs became tangled. He pushed his face into Drew's neck and gave a soft moan.

Drew gave a rueful smile. "You really don't play fair," he said as Cale shifted closer.

"I've been told that." Cale wiggled again. "You feel good."

Drew bit his lip, then looked back down. "You've obviously lost too much blood."

"I think you're right. But you still feel good." He nuzzled against Drew's throat.

Drew groaned and pulled away. "You confuse the hell out of me," he admitted.

"At least we see eye to eye on something." A new wave of pain rolled over him, and his vision started to swim. Cale swallowed heavily and closed his eyes. "I think I need a hospital."

"Cale?" he heard Drew ask. The world faded away.

***********

Quent heard the shot and turned just in time to see Cale go down. He fell into a crouch and sprinted for Drew's jeep. He reached it just as Drew was lowering Cale to the ground. Another shot rang out. Close. Both Quent and Drew ducked. Off to the right, something crashed through the underbrush.

Quent jerked toward the sound, then glanced back at Cale. Drew urged him on. "Go! I've got him."

Quent didn't hesitate. He reached forward and hauled Drew up by his shirtfront. "If anything happens to him…."

Drew jerked loose. "I hear you. Go."

Quent scooped his cell phone off the ground and handed it to Drew. "Call Rob. Speed dial number one." Then he took off.

He managed to follow whoever was running along the road quite easily. They made no effort to be silent. As he gained on his quarry, he drew his gun and released the safety. He sensed he was close. Then, up ahead, he heard a door open. He saw a faint glow from a car's interior light about fifty yards away. He growled and put on a burst of speed. How the hell had they missed that car driving in? Quent realized it must have been parked off the road quite a ways and fairly well concealed.

An engine revved, tires squealed and the car sped away toward town. It was too far away to see what type it had been, but the pattern of taillights was odd. Quent didn't recognize them. It was also too dark to see any details of the license plate. His only hope was that the shooter would meet the other squad car or the ambulance on the empty road. Chances were, though, the car would beat them to the turnoff. Cursing under his breath, Quent turned to jog back to Drew and Cale.