The Ranch Ch. 06

Coughing on stale air, Greg blinked around him. He was cuffed, lying on the bed in the exact position he'd left Katie. There was an excruciating burning sensation between his legs, connecting to a terrible, dull ache in his lower stomach.

"Urghh," he groaned, awkwardly shifting onto his side, and a sharp pain ripped across his groin. Glancing down his body, he spotted the blue dart sticking out of one leg.

"My own fucking-!" he rasped in disbelief, angrily kicking the numb leg out. He jerked in surprise when his phone rang, strategically placed in reach of his hands. Clawing at it, he squinted at the screen before dragging his torso forward on the bed to answer, wincing at the effort.

"What?" Greg snapped. Listening to the caller, he grit his teeth. "They did, did they? Well, don't bother. I'm on it." He paused, and a thundering frown gathered on his sweating brow. "Because I'm on site! Why do you think I asked to be notified? Fucking cancel it!" he said savagely, and ended the call. Then he looked at the cuffs on his hands.

"FUCK!" he screamed hoarsely, furiously rattling the cuffs against the rail. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he raised his head and fumbled with the phone. "It's me. I need someone after all. Just one person, with keys. They have to call me for directions." Greg listened for a minute and rolled his eyes. "I'm undercover. Use the details I left yesterday. Yes, him. Not a word to anyone else. This is important, understand?" Dropping the phone to the mattress, Greg curled into a more comfortable position, cringing in pain, and waited. After a couple of minutes, several waves of fire seemed to pass through his balls, and after a bout of heaving breaths, Greg promptly vomited on himself.

"They're gonna wish they killed me, all three of them," he retched, shaking with his agitation and physical pain. He jumped as his phone went off again.

"Oh, shit," Greg whispered, unsure whether to take it. There wasn't any point ignoring it, obviously George knew he'd made contact. "Hello?" he answered calmly, despite his lower body twitching in pain.

"What are you up to, Greg?" asked George.

"I-I'm..." Greg scrambled to think of an answer, wondering how much George knew.

"Why has a death been reported in the very area you are located?" George questioned sweetly.

"How did you- A death?" Greg ejaculated hoarsely. "I didn't know. I was only told-"

"You fucking idiot!" George screamed. "You don't tell reception monkeys to contact your boss without warning! It is not for you to call in favours on my behalf! Do you not have a brain, or has spending so much time with my son drastically lowered your IQ?"

"Urhhh," Greg winced as the pain in his groin refreshed.

"What!?" George shouted.

"I said, I'm handling it," Greg ground out, his mind divided between the searing agony in his crotch and George's verbal abuse.

"Do you know that an ambulance and several officers are on their way to you?"

"It wasn't mentioned," Greg replied weakly.

"Perhaps it wasn't mentioned, because this whole situation stinks of your fucking screwup! How am I supposed to fix this? I'm fucking retired!" George's voice broke as he screamed himself hoarse. "If I have to use your dead body to wipe up this mess-"

"I'm not finished here," Greg insisted on a snarl, as Mark's smiling face loomed to the front of his mind.

"You are finished!" George roared. "You are to disappear, got it? Go underground. I need to use you to clean up this shit, and I'll have to call in favours I worked hard to attain. When I am updated next, I want to hear that you are missing. I want to hear that there is no evidence whatsoever you are breathing. Be gone before anyone arrives."

"But-" Greg raised his head in dismay. "I'm cuffed."

The line went quiet for a moment of seething silence. Greg could hear George breathing, and somehow he physically felt the animosity through the phone. Finally George spoke, and his tone was deadly.

"You abandon your post, leave me in the dark, create one fuck of a crime scene, kill a civilian, and you're stuck? Is that what you're telling me?" George queried, his voice humming with fury.

Greg couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Well," George continued serenely, "I suggest you find a way out, Gregory. I suggest you put that once-brilliant little brain to use. Because shortly, I will be taking a holiday in your direction. And I will make sure you disappear."

The line ended and Greg turned onto his back. His mind whirled as he stared up at the ceiling, aghast. Just because officers were on their way didn't make it any better. He had no undercover story. They'd throw him in jail, and his fellow inmates would have a field-day with an ex-officer, even a fake one. So would George's contacts on the inside. Rolling onto his front, Greg peered around the room. The shack was full of junk. He groaned in agony as he slowly raised onto his knees. Cuffed hands gripping the metal frame, he shut his eyes and bent over. His blond fringe brushed across his eyes as he leaned his chin onto his knuckles.

Not long ago, he was King of the World. Now, he was a disgraced fugitive. Though he'd handled himself just fine before George employed him, Greg liked his job. He could enjoy his special brand of fun with minimal accountability. Shaking his head, Greg deeply regretted his cocky decision to kidnap Cory. He should have just taken Katie back to Dom, then he could have had his way her numerous times en route. But now, he was stuck like a pig in an abattoir, waiting for death.

"ARGHHH!" he growled furiously, curling his torso over the rail, and the bed jumped as he frantically tugged at the railing. Opening his eyes to the floor below him, he scrambled from the bed and gasped as his legs gave out under him. Gathering his strength, he managed to stand, leaning most of his weight on the leg that didn't have a dart in it. Carefully, he supported himself using the bed-frame, and used his cuffs to shift the bed to one side, inch by inch.

There was something on the ground that stood out cleanly against the surrounding muck. Something that had clattered to the floor and been kicked under the bed by Cory in his blind haste to get Katie free and escape. Greg recognised it immediately. Biting his lip from the pain that followed, sweat running down his temples, he worked to free his feet from his boots.

"Hello, old friend," he breathed with a twisted smile. Elation mingled with pain in the depths of his flaring brown eyes as they fixed on the small hacksaw.

******************

The high-ceilinged room was grimly silent. Mark sat in a large, caramel armchair, staring ahead aimlessly as Gerard paced the private study in a highly agitated state.

"How is he?" Mark asked.

"Resting. The cuts will heal, probably infected, but we won't know until later," Gerard answered impatiently. "There will be scarring, but he's fine." He stopped pacing and looked at Mark meaningfully. "He gave me nothing. What the hell is going on here?"

"Not now, Gerard," Mark said tiredly, leaning forward and resting his face in his hands. "There are bigger problems."

"Bigger problems than Marco's murder?" Gerard demanded, his grief and frustration coming to surface after waiting so long for answers. Mark dropped his hands from his face and leaned back in the chair as Gerard came to stand before him expectantly.

"I saw their faces, Mark," Gerard said heatedly, his lip curled with contempt. "I am very familiar with dealing with people who are ready to brush something under the carpet. You heard them. They're going to diagnose it as a heart attack."

"They have the dart, the tool bag. They're investigating Greg," Mark insisted.

"How do you know that evidence will make it to headquarters? And your 'Greg' has vanished without a trace," Gerard replied bitterly.

"Look, the less you know, the better," Mark advised, gazing darkly up at the ceiling.

"Marco was my friend!" Gerard shouted, stepping back and swinging his arm wide, knocking over a red vase decorated with purple flowers. It cracked into three large pieces as it hit the shiny floorboards. "He has a wife, and three daughters! What are you going to tell them, Mark? That Marco, when he should have been with his family, decided to take a fatal bush-walk? Is that what you're going to do? If that is your plan, you're as bad as the ones who took his body."

Gerard abruptly turned and brushed a hand across his eyes. "Marco was my friend," he repeated, a tear dripped down his face unheeded. "But you don't spend enough time around here to know. He was a good, honest man, and he deserved to live long and old."

"You don't think I know that?" Mark exclaimed, angrily meeting Gerard's eyes as guilt gathered in his chest and expanded against his ribcage, like poison. "If I could change what happened, I would. But I can't. I don't know what else to tell you, Gerard. I'm exhausted." He rose and strode to the door. "There will be more police coming. And they will want to speak with you."

"Well, I will be here," Gerard replied coldly. "But something tells me there won't be as much fuss as you indicate. Maybe they're not directly involved, but they're not going to pursue it."

"You don't know that," Mark argued.

"I do. I've seen it done before, in a more publicised incident." Gerard answered quietly.

Mark's eyes narrowed and he tilted his head arrogantly as he turned from the door. "It was unfortunate, what happened," he gestured to Gerard, "but they got the guy, remember?"

"Well, Mark," Gerard answered levelly through clenched teeth, "that depends on your definition of 'getting the guy'. Yes, he was diplomatically fired, but he didn't spend a night in jail, whilst my career was left in tatters. For all I know, he could have been reinstated elsewhere."

Mark had nothing to say, and wrenched the door open to leave. As he set one foot into the hall, Gerard's voice rang out behind him.

"Who is that girl to you?" Gerard asked sharply.

Mark's blue eyes burned wrathfully as he spun to face Gerard. "You go too far, Gerard," he spoke slowly with great emphasis, "to enquire into my personal life." On those last scornful words, he was gone.

With a wan smile, Gerard bent to collect the shards of broken vase. "So," he murmured to himself, "Cory isn't alone in his sentiments."

**************************

Katie shifted restlessly in sleep, her limbs occasionally jerking amongst the soft sheets. Mark watched quietly from the doorway, only wanting to check on her, but too disturbed by her fretful behaviour to leave. When she whimpered, he was moved to approach the bed, not giving much thought to the fact he had once again let himself in her apartment uninvited. Except this time, his intentions were completely different, and he'd left the apartment door open, only meaning to take a minute.

Easing onto the bed next to Katie, he gently put his arms about her. At first she jolted against him, but he expected this, holding her firmly until she calmed down and settled into his embrace. Mark winced as Katie clung to him, her arm circling about his sore abdomen. Feeling her relax in his hold, he closed his eyes as exhaustion began to take over.

"Cory," Katie sighed against his chest, and Mark's blue eyes flew open, surprised by the emotional pain that spread through his chest as she murmured the name of his best friend.

Why wouldn't she prefer Cory? Though Mark and Katie had shared an intimate kiss in the pool, Cory had spent more time with her, and God knows what they went through together with Greg. Whilst Mark had more charisma and humorous wit, he struggled to express his more sincere feelings, something that came more naturally to Cory.

Mark knew that Cory's feelings for Katie ran deeper than frivolous lust, and he wasn't going to jeopardise their friendship by openly courting her. At the same time, there was only one Katie, and Mark knew he felt differently about her to the women in his past. Rationally, Mark had just as much entitlement to happiness as Cory, but it would come down to Katie's choice, if she'd have either of them.

Deep down, Mark was torn. The idea of hurting Cory, weighed against the idea of seeing Cory and Katie together, was equally cutting. An overwhelming sadness consumed him as he recognised the current scenario couldn't yield a happy ending. Someone was going to get hurt, and it was probably going to be him.

Mark turned his head and brushed his lips across Katie's smooth forehead, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair, still mildly damp after her shower. Mark quickly moved his head back in surprise as he felt his cock stir in his trousers. Bewildered by the sudden, powerful effect she had on him, Mark uncertainly bit his lip, deliberating the temptation that slept comfortably in his arms. He had no intention of being invasively intimate with Katie without her permission. A small, naughty smile curved the corners of his handsome mouth as he decided it couldn't do any harm to be affectionate. Breathing in her hair again, one hand stroked her cheek and gently tilted her face up toward his.

Though it was dark, he could make out her lovely features from the light that had been left on in the lounge-room. Her dark hair softly curled about her face, coiled in reaction to its recent wet state, her dark eyelashes peacefully rested against her high cheekbones. Her pink, pouting mouth beckoned him, lips slightly parted in sleep. There was no resisting her nearness.

Mark cupped her cheek and gently ran his thumb across her full bottom lip, before lowering his face to hers. Feeling his heartbeat quicken when their lips met, Mark almost moaned as he savoured the taste of her. Unaccustomed to tender romance, it was a vastly unique experience for Mark, and surprisingly fulfilling. Mark typically enjoyed an element of playful sadism in his encounters with women, but as he slowly kissed Katie, he decided perhaps he'd missed something. Kissing her, he felt his physical hurts fade into nothingness, quickly replaced by an increasingly heated arousal.

Sighing against his mouth, Katie's green eyes flickered open, and she confusedly stared at Mark's face, pressed against hers. His eyes were shut, he didn't know she was awake.

In Mark's warm hold, Katie felt extremely comfortable, and safe. It had taken her some time to get to sleep after what had happened in the woods, and she'd felt incredibly alone, lonely enough to leave the lights on in the living room. There was nothing threatening about Mark's manner, and she was surprised that she enjoyed his attentions. His body radiated an enticing heat, and she smelled the deliciously familiar scent of cigar mixed with cologne. Making a quick judgement call, Katie decided to play along. Mark jumped in shock and jerked his head back as he felt Katie slide her hand up his chest and caress his cheek.

"Katie, I-I-" he stuttered in a panic, not remembering the last time he'd been completely lost for words.

"Yes, Mark?" Katie whispered with mock outrage, tapping a finger on his cheek, feeling it warm under her palm as Mark blushed for the first time since she'd met him.

"I didn't mean..." he replied uneasily, beginning to edge off the bed, but her hand stopped him as she seized the front of his shirt.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Katie smiled a little sadly, "I want your company. But I don't think... what I mean is, I...I've...I'm not interested in anything more than what we're doing now," she finished in a rush, not wanting to be explicit about how sore Greg had left her.

Mark nodded, understanding perfectly. He didn't know what happened to her out there. Whilst he desperately wanted to know, he was also very glad that he didn't.

"Is Cory ok?" she asked, as he moved close again.

"Yes," he answered heavily, not really wanting to talk about Cory. "He's asleep."

"Who's Alex?" Katie asked unexpectedly, watching for Mark's response to her surprise question. Interestingly enough, Mark's expression became carefully blank, and he shifted on the bed uncomfortably.

"It's not my story to tell," he answered a little stiffly.

"But you were involved," Katie pointed out, as Mark looked at her, startled.

"What- I mean, how-" he began uneasily.

"Greg mentioned you guys paid your way out of something, that Cory has a cousin." Katie's green eyes bored into Mark expectantly.

"It's a long story," he insisted in response to her interrogative stare, "and it's not my place to talk about it. You'll have to ask Cory."

"Oh," she said softly, rolling onto her back to look at the ceiling. After a long, thoughtful minute, she turned back to Mark. "Will you hold me?" she asked hesitantly.

Mark nodded as a lump caught in his throat, and he pulled her in his embrace, marvelling how perfectly her slender frame fit against his chest.

"What about you? Are you ok?" she whispered against his throat, her warm breath against his skin sending a tremor of excitement down his torso. Again, Mark nodded, but Katie linked her hand through his large one and lifted it, squinting in the dark at the cuts on his bruised wrist. "You don't really open up, do you?" she murmured.

Mark didn't answer, but gently removed his hand from hers to lift her chin toward him so he could kiss her again. Katie complied, instinctively sensing some kind of grief on Mark's part, but having no idea what it could be. She was the one who'd been abused, but it was as though he was the one who needed nurturing. And Katie recognised it, knowing very well what it was to be vulnerable, needing comfort.

Right now, Katie didn't feel vulnerable. After resting, she felt surprisingly exuberant, incredibly relieved to be safe again. It seemed that the worse she experienced, the more vibrantly she cherished her freedom. Sensing Mark's vulnerability, she opened her mouth against his kiss, hotly taking it up a level, feeling his wide chest rapidly rise against her own. His large, warm hand settled on her small waist and slid upward, coming to rest just under her breast.

Mark fell his heartbeat rapidly accelerate as she responded to him. He was painfully aroused. Surely he could just touch her, if he was gentle? Testing the waters, he slowly moved his hand from under her breast, over her hip, and travelled lower, past the waistband of her pyjama pants, curving his hand over her naked ass and squeezing indulgently.

"Mark!" Katie admonished against his mouth, and he firmly pressed his lips to hers before replying.

"Doesn't that feed good?" he murmured, playfully catching her full bottom lip between his teeth.

"Yes, but-" she began breathlessly.

"There's no 'buts' when it's a yes," Mark grinned saucily, and kissed her again, using his hand on her ass to pull her closer against him. "Oh, yes," he breathed against her mouth, naughtily walking his fingers around from the taut curve of her ass to her front. Very, very lightly, he drummed his fingers across her naked pussy.

"Mark!" Katie's eyes widened in alarm as their gaze met. Startled green clashed with hot, melting blue.

"Katie, touch me, please," Mark groaned, taking her hand and guiding it down his pants, against his erection. Feeling her small hand tentatively touch his throbbing cock for the first time, Mark shuddered with both excitement and relief. Then his mouth found hers again as she wrapped her hand around him, slowly moving it up and down his heated length. With Katie warming to her new task, his hand eased back down the front of her pants and began to play with her pussy.

"Mark," Katie insisted, reluctantly pulling out of the kiss, "it feels good, but I'm not...I mean, I can't..." she trailed off, watching the initial worry leave Mark's eyes as they gleamed with humorous mischief.

"How about I kiss it better?" he suggested, gently stroking around the outside of her pussy. "I'd love to do that for you, Katie. Please let me."