Final Day--a Wired & Dangerous novella Read online

  Erick closed his eyes, feeling the phantom touch of his late boyfriend. Tarr breathed heavily beside him, and the sound was loud over the soft music playing on the radio. He opened his eyes, staring sightlessly out of his window. He had taken time over the last several months to mourn Flynn, but even though the jabs happened less often now, they were no less painful. That was what people didn’t understand about trauma. The severity of the agony never lessened; the painful memories just came less frequently.

  Finally he spoke, and he had to work hard to keep the tremor out of his voice—aftereffects from the pain, which had finally dulled in his gut. “Forget it. No more questions. Sorry I pried. I’m a curious guy, I guess.”

  Tarr blew out a heavy breath. “It’s fine. Sorry I lost it. I’m stressed about my sister.”

  “Understandable.” Erick focused back on his computer, blinking to stop the lines on the screen from blurring. No more of this bullshit. Focus on the mission and get the hell away from Tarr. He did one good deed that benefited Erick. It didn’t have to be any deeper than that. “So back on task. We need supplies. I have a supplier in upstate New York. I don’t use him a lot because he’s a bit out of the way, but he’s good. If I give him a call, he’ll have what we need by the time we get there.”

  “How much?” Tarr asked.

  Erick waved a hand. “He owes me. No worries.”

  Tarr didn’t ask any more questions. Erick fiddled around with his security plan for the next twenty minutes or so. When Tarr finally spoke again, he said, “Everett Hawk.”

  Erick glanced up. “What?”

  Tarr stared straight ahead, eyes intent on the road. “My name.”

  “Everett?”

  “Yeah.”

  Erick nodded. “I can see that. You look like an Everett.” He paused as something occurred to him. “Wait, Everly and Everett?”

  Tarr smiled then, a real one, even though it wasn’t directed at Erick. “Yeah. My parents thought it was clever.”

  “It’s a little matchy-matchy.”

  “I agree.”

  Erick laughed a little, and even Tarr’s shoulders shook. “Well, nice to meet you Everett Hawk. I’m Erick Lee. And my sister has a sensible name like Wren.”

  “I like it,” Tarr said softly.

  “And if anyone came for her, I’d rush to her side too. In fact, some people recently did come for her, and I wasn’t rational.”

  Tarr nodded. “She’s okay now though?”

  “Yeah, and she’s with Roarke now. So I know she’s protected.”

  “He seems like a good man.”

  “The best. My best friend.” He paused. “So wait, why do you go by ‘Tarr’?”

  “It’s a nickname.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and Erick motioned with his hand for Tarr to keep talking. Tarr didn’t get the hint. “Uh,” Erick said, “you gonna explain?”

  Tarr sighed. “I know how to trap my marks, like they’re stuck in tar. Then I strike. I spell it with two r’s so it’s not searchable.”

  “Well that’s creative.” Erick decided he didn’t like the nickname. Time to get to work. “All right, I’m going to give Trig a call. Let him know what I need. I’ll program the address in your phone, but if you tell anyone where it is”—Erick pointed a finger at Tarr—“I’ll kill you.”

  “Lips are sealed.” Tarr sounded amused by the threat, and Erick didn’t appreciate it.

  “Do you not believe me? I could totally kill you.”

  “Oh yeah? How so.”

  “How would I kill you?”

  “Yeah, tell me how you’d catch me off guard and take me out.”

  Erick pursed his lips. “Why would I tell you that? I can’t have you know how I plan to carry out my threat.”

  “Riiighht.” Tarr was silently laughing now.

  “You think I’m not capable? I could rig your apartment with a bomb. I could poison your food. Fuck up the electronics on your car and make it crash.”

  “Okay, so where do I live? What do I drive?”

  Erick didn’t know those answers. Because Tarr appeared to live everywhere and nowhere and he changed cars all the time. “I’d find out.”

  Tarr smiled. “You act like you’re the first person who has wanted to kill me. I’m only alive because I’m hard to kill.”

  “You sound like Jock.”

  “He’s also hard to kill.”

  Erick almost asked about his connection to Jock but then bit his lip. He didn’t need to know, and he didn’t really want to know. “Okay, I’m calling Trig. Don’t talk.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  Erick dialed Trig’s number and smiled when the man picked up immediately. “Pretty Boy Lee! You haven’t called me for months. A year? Two years?”

  “It’s been two years,” Erick said.

  “Ah, that’s it. How’re ya? How’s Flynn?”

  Erick held back a groan. He forgot that the last time he’d visited Trig he had been with Flynn. When they’d been together. “Flynn’s gone, man.”

  Trig didn’t answer for a moment. “Gone?”

  “He blew the whistle on some human trash. They took him out for it.”

  “No,” Trig whispered. Erick imagined him, so bright and colorful. Trig always looked like a walking rainbow.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, Lee. I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too. Look, I’ll tell you more when I get there. Because I’m on my way. And I got an order. You cool to fulfill it for me?”

  “Of course. Anything. You know that.”

  Erick did know. Trig had his club and his life because of Erick. “Okay, here’s what I need.” He rattled off the sensors he’d need for the doors and windows of Everly’s house, along with the control panels and spotlights. He added some weapons to the order because why not.

  When he was finished, Trig whistled. “You setting up a fortress?”

  “Gotta protect a family. Woman and kids.”

  “Shit. Okay. What time will you need this?”

  Erick glanced at the GPS. “Probably five hours?”

  “I’ll get on it right away.”

  “Thanks, Trig.”

  “Looking forward to seeing you, Lee.”

  “You too, man.” Erick hung up and leaned back in his seat. Seeing Trig would bring up more memories, which sucked, but he needed him and his supplies.

  “We good?” Tarr asked.

  “All good.” The sun was just beginning to drop in the sky. “I’m going to try to get some sleep now. Wake me up when you want a break, all right?”

  “Yeah. When I’m about done, I’ll stop, and we’ll fuel up, get something to eat. Then switch drivers.”

  Erick crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. “Deal. Don’t crash and kill us.”

  “No problem. If we crash, I’ll make sure I roll it and only kill you.”

  Erick couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Smartass.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  Erick yawned. “Yes, sir.” He was asleep in minutes.

  * * *

  Tarr

  Erick was snoring. Not loud, not sawing logs or anything, but this kind of low snort followed by a whistle as he breathed out. Honestly, it was a little endearing, which made Tarr want to put his head through the windshield.

  People didn’t grow on Tarr. Tarr didn’t grow on people. More often than not, he was angry about something. He was forty-one and had few friends and even fewer past lovers that he knew beyond a first name.

  His eyelids were growing heavy, and his stomach was growling. He’d been driving for over four hours straight, and he had to stop soon before he either fell asleep, passed out, or his bladder burst.

  He flipped his turn signal and steered off the highway. Erick didn’t move other than a slight twitch of his lips. At the bottom of the off-ramp, a sign let him know there was a gas station with food up ahead. The highlights of a passing car roamed over Erick’s face, highlighting his thin nose and
freckles. His long legs stretched out under the console, Air Jordan–clad feet at rest. Tarr had to stop looking at him. Thinking about him.

  He’d had Erick on his mind for a long time, before that night at Jock’s. He’d been observing the whole crew in case he was needed. So he’d noticed Erick then. In a way that he didn’t want to, but it was hard to ignore the guy’s warm, brown eyes, his slender build, and big, cocky smile like he always had a secret. Tarr was so used to vapid guys he met at clubs or on Grindr that he’d forgotten what it felt like to be attracted to someone without the sure promise of a hookup.

  He suspected Erick wasn’t straight, but he couldn’t be sure. Plus, he didn’t want to know. The guy was trouble—curious, a bit eccentric, and too smart for his own good. He had emotions, and Tarr didn’t want to deal with anyone else’s when he had a hard enough time interpreting his own.

  Maybe back before everything, before his life went to shit and he’d had to resort to being a mercenary for hire—he preferred that term over hit man—he would have tried to pursue someone like Erick. He’d been something once. His job had meant something. He’d served his country. But now, he didn’t pursue anyone but marks.

  The harsh lights of the gas station stretched across the dark road. Tarr pulled into the parking lot and stopped at a pump. He nudged Erick’s shoulder, and the guy snorted loudly, sniffed a couple of times, then blinked open his eyes. For a few seconds, he just looked confused as he squinted and turned away from the fluorescent lights. He rubbed his face and gave himself a slap on the cheek. “Where are we?”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  “Cool,” Erick muttered as he rubbed his neck and winced. “I hate sleeping in the car.”

  “You wanna fill the tank while I go in and get some food?”

  “Yeah. Just get me a premade deli sandwich or something.” Erick stretched his arms over his head, and Tarr didn’t miss the strip of smooth skin he exposed over the waistband of his jeans. “Some Doritos would not be turned away. And a coffee. Black.”

  “You got it.”

  Tarr left the vehicle and walked toward the outside bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see Erick inserting the nozzle into the gas tank. He was swaying slightly to the music playing at the pumps, his lips moving. When Erick dug his phone out of his back pocket and tapped at it with his thumbs, Tarr looked away. After using the bathroom, he found some sandwiches that looked like they’d been made hours ago, but at least they were edible. He grabbed a big bag of Doritos and two black coffees.

  He glanced up to see Erick leaving the side of the gas station, probably having used the bathroom. He was on the phone, his expression intense and his movements hurried as he reached the car and shoved the gas nozzle back into place.

  Tarr quickly shoved some cash at the gas station attendant and hurried outside. Erick was waving to him to hurry, and Tarr walked fast, trying not to draw attention to himself. Erick threw himself into the passenger seat and unlocked the door for Tarr. “What the hell, man?” Tarr said as he slid into the seat.

  “We gotta switch cars.” Erick buckled his seat belt. “Now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Someone saw us leaving town in this Xterra. Roarke is monitoring their communications. He said don’t bother to switch plates, just get another car.”

  “Fuck.” Tarr tossed the bag of food in Erick’s lap and dropped the coffees in the center cup holders. He started the car while buckling his seat belt, fumbling with it because his hands were shaking. “Have they said anything about my sister?”

  Erick shook his head. “Nope. As far as we know, they aren’t aware of her existence.”

  “Hope it fucking stays that way.” Tarr sped out of the gas station and tapped an address into the GPS.

  “Where are we doing? We gotta switch cars,” Erick said.

  “I know. I gotta guy who can get us a car. And he’ll take this one and drive it around and maybe throw them off.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How far?”

  “An hour?”

  “Want me to drive?”

  Tarr shook his head. He wasn’t tired anymore. Hell, he was barely hungry. Panic was an instant shot of adrenaline. He picked up a coffee and sucked back some scalding liquid, not even caring that it burned like fire on the way down. “I got it. Just hand me my sandwich and eat yours.”

  He texted Guerrero with one thumb, keeping his eye on the road as best as he could. Be there in an hour. Need a plain jane.

  The reply came within minutes. She’s ready.

  Tarr breathed out. Angel Guerrero wasn’t necessarily a good guy, but then Tarr wasn’t either. Angel was a businessman. He took payment and Tarr always paid, and spread the word about Angel. Therefore, Angel repaid him in prompt service with a closed mouth.

  Erick was quiet beside him, eating his sandwich and texting every once in a while.

  Angel’s compound was outside of Philly. Compound was maybe too nice a word for it, but Angel occupied a good half a block, surrounded by a chain-link fence, and no one messed with him and his soldiers. They peddled everything from cars to guns to drugs to flesh.

  When Tarr turned into Angel’s drive, a man approached their passenger’s side door holding a rifle. “Who is this guy?” Erick’s faced was pressed against the window as he peered out into the darkness.

  Tarr lowered his window and said, “Pepperoni.”

  Satisfied with the password, the man waved for the gate to be opened. Once it was, Tarr pulled through.

  They pulled to a stop in front of a large, unmarked warehouse as Angel walked outside, flanked by four heavily armed men. Tarr stepped out, walking toward Angel to shake his hand.

  Then he heard the passenger’s side door open. Erick murmured, “Oh fuck. This isn’t going to be good,” just as Angel’s eyes widened and his hand went up.

  Just like that, four guns pointed at Erick and two at Tarr, who threw up his hands, heart pounding in his ears as he wondered what triggered this.

  Angel turned to Tarr, his expression thunderous. “How dare you bring this piece of shit to me.”

  Tarr felt the ground go out from beneath him, and he only stayed upright out of fear he’d be shot if he moved. Did Angel and Erick know each other? He tried not to panic, but he couldn’t see a way this would end well.

  Tarr slowly swiveled his head to look at Erick, who stood with his hands up as well, face pale in the light of the dim bulb hanging off the side of Angel’s garage. He bit his lip as he met Tarr’s gaze. “Uh, so, it’s sort of a funny story.”

  Chapter Four

  Tarr

  Tarr honestly thought he was going to have a stroke. As soon as Erick spoke, the two men manning the fence rushed up behind him. One gun-butted him in the back of the head and Tarr hollered as Erick crumpled.

  Shouts filled the darkened courtyard as more guns swung in Tarr’s direction. “Don’t shoot me, for Christ’s sake, Angel!” he hollered.

  But Angel was furious. His face was beet red as he glared at Erick, who moaned on the ground and clutched his head. Well, at least he was alive. Tarr couldn’t imagine how Roarke would react if Tarr got Erick killed.

  “Let’s talk,” Tarr said, arms out, feet braced, as he crept closer to place himself between Angel and Erick. “He didn’t know where we were heading, and I didn’t know you two had a past. Honest mistake.”

  Angel spat on the ground. “Big mistake.”

  “Okay,” Tarr conceded. “Big mistake. I’m sorry. But we’re here now, and I’d like to talk. Without injuries.” He hesitated before taking a step toward Erick. “Can I help him up? I know he’s not armed.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Angel insisted. “He’s full of tricks.”

  “Okay, but you trust me, right?”

  Angel glared at him but didn’t disagree.

  “Right?”

  “You vouch for him? You’re not here to bring me down.”

  Tarr glanced at Erick, who shook his h
ead. “We just want the car,” Tarr explained. “I vouch for him. He’s not here to hurt you or your business. On my honor.”

  “Fine,” Angel finally said, although his sneer made it clear he wasn’t happy about it. “We go to my office and we talk. Warning.” He pointed a finger at Tarr. “This transaction just got a lot more complicated.” He turned and walked inside, his men following him.

  Tarr helped Erick to his feet. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Tarr hissed. “You have Angel Guerrero as an enemy?”

  “Oh, don’t talk to me about enemies. Yours are the reason we’re in this mess.”

  “The Haros are my enemies because I killed one of them to save Jock.” Tarr held on to Erick’s arm as they walked toward the door to follow Angel. “Why the hell is Angel your enemy?”

  Erick grimaced. “A much less noble reason.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Tarr muttered as they entered the warehouse.

  Tarr had never been inside the warehouse. He’d always done his business outdoors. Inside was an assortment of car parts and several works areas with tools. Toward the back were stacks of crates and barrels. Two men led them to a small office at the back beyond some crates. Angel sat inside at a large desk, two men behind him. He motioned to two chairs at the front of the desk. Tarr shoved Erick into one none-too gently. Erick hit the seat with a grunt. Tarr sat in the other, his heart pounding as the door shut behind them. It was now guarded by two additional men. Now, Tarr sat with Erick in Angel’s office with four armed men. Spectacular. This was going to end super well.

  “So,” Angel said, lighting up a cigar, “do you know how Mr. Lee and I know each other?”

  “No,” Tarr said.

  “You tell him, Mr. Lee. I’m eager to hear your version.”

  Erick sat up straighter in his seat, and Tarr could see a thin line of blood dripping down the back of his neck. Fuck, he probably had a concussion. Erick cleared his throat. “First I’d like to tell you, Mr. Guerrero, that this is a lovely warehouse. Very organized.”

  Angel slammed his hand down on the desk. “Get to the point.”

  “Right, right.” Erick stole a look at Tarr. “So it’s quite simple, really.” He swallowed, and a vein in his temple bulged. “I gave his daughter and her fiancé fake IDs to leave the country. Dad here didn’t approve of his daughter dating his second-in-command. Gabrielle paid me so I did it. Angel found out. He’s not too happy with me.”