The Ranch Ch. 07

"Cory," the taller man smiled, his eyes brightened with warmth. When Cory didn't respond, Mark moved forward.

"Alex," he grinned, masking his anxiety. "We really appreciate this."

Alex nodded, but his eyes moved past him to settle on Cory. Following his gaze, Mark glanced back at Cory, who moodily lounged against the wall. "He's not himself. We should talk alone first."

"But-" Alex began.

"It was me who reached out," Mark confessed. "His head isn't in the right space and-"

Alex straightened. "So, he just needs something. Is that what this is?"

"He's over what happened, we both are," Mark insisted.

"You know I'm a busy guy, right?" Alex returned Cory's hostile stare. "A daytime meeting with guaranteed privacy isn't always a piece of cake. Are we still at square one?"

Mark looked at Cory impatiently. "Cory?"

"No," Cory slowly answered, shoving his hands into this pockets. Though his broad shoulders were tense, he felt completely different to what he'd anticipated. He was still very angry. But there was no disgust, no hate. An almost mellow emotion passed through him, numbing the rage that surfaced whenever he'd remembered his cousin. Only by facing his relative in the flesh could he realise that he actually missed Alex.

Alex whistled and raised an eyebrow. "You gotta do better than that, cousin."

Tutting, the shorter man approached.

"Come on, Cory," he appealed in a reasoning tone. "You're family. Don't piss on it." He looked at Mark. "I feel inadequate, dwarfed by you, giants. I vote we leave these idiots to duke it out."

Mark wryly smiled at the other man's easy manner. "Thanks, Bert." Before leaving the room, he paused by the door to give Cory a warning look. Though he desperately wanted to stay, Mark knew only Cory could persuade Alex.

As the door closed quietly behind them, Alex shrugged. "Either you've forgiven me, or you can't. Stop wasting my time."

Cory took a deep breath. "You can't blame me-"

"And you gave me a piece of your mind the last time we spoke," Alex brusquely cut him off. "So I'm guessing you're desperate. If you want my help, don't be so fucking retarded."

Cory looked at the ground. It was littered and dusty, similar to Greg's makeshift torture shed. Recalling that period and the following events, Cory knew Mark was right, they were out of options. They had no clues, no evidence. The security footage which would have captured Katie's kidnapping, as well as George's presence at the ranch, was missing. The police so far were a dead end, if not a hazard.

"What do you need, Cory?" Alex interrupted his reverie.

"A girl is missing," Cory replied. The admission caused his teeth to clench, his heart literally aching. "You have connections, you might be able to help."

"You guys are rich enough to take care of anything," Alex said curtly. "What kind of problem do you have that my connections might resolve?"

"It's complicated," Cory snapped.

"Oh?" Alex nonchalantly glanced down and smoothed the material of his shirt sleeve. "This isn't like you. Going to such lengths for a woman. Going to any lengths I should say," he added. Meeting Cory's eyes, some of the severity left his own as a mocking smile formed on his face. "What does this chick have on you this time?"

"Can you fucking help, or not?" Cory snarled, pushing off from the wall.

Alex waited a few long seconds before returning Cory's gaze, and his eyes were hard. "Couldn't tell you, with what's on the table. So let's get a few things straight," he said flatly. "I'm not your trained monkey, Cory, I'm your cousin. You disowned me years ago."

"You killed a girl!" Cory shouted, kicking the chair closest to him, sending it flying in Alex's direction. Alex's eyes followed the chair as it slid to a stop at his feet, one leg broken. In youth, Alex traded violence for violence, but he was wiser now. Suppressing the rage building within, he lifted his eyes from the broken chair to meet Cory's.

"I'm not here to debate the past," he said simply, and turned to the door.

"Wait!" Cory strode ahead of Alex and slammed his palm against the door, the force of his hand reverberated throughout the still, dusty room. "I think I'm in love with her," he admitted starkly.

Alex shrugged, but he didn't move to leave. "I always liked Mark. But I'm not here for him. You're the last family I got. Perhaps that don't mean shit to you, but it's different for me." Alex turned to Cory and angled his head cockily, but his eyes blazed with tested patience. "This is it. Get it? When I walk today, that's it. I'm done. I give up. I may not be a choirboy, but even I can tell you this is bad manners."

"It was wrong, what you did. You shouldn't have interfered," Cory muttered.

"Your life would have been over," Alex replied. "At least Mark's had the decency to acknowledge it." A weight lifted from his chest, now they were finally talking. When Cory discovered what happened, he'd abruptly severed Alex from his life. Mark had tried to convince Cory to reconcile with his cousin, without success.

"I'm a mess, Alex," Cory confessed, running both hands over his face. "I need to get her back. She's in so much trouble, and I promised to keep her safe."

Alex's expression softened, but his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Who is she?!"

Cory shrugged. "She's tied up with bad news. Really bad. Dirty cops."

"That narrows down nothing. Is she a hooker?" Alex inquired.

"No!" Cory half-shouted, outraged by the implication. "She's a respectable-"

"How do you know?" Alex asked with eyebrows raised, skeptically crossing his arms. "Not many 'respectable' girls dally with dirty cops."

"It wasn't her choice," Cory retorted.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Any names?"

"Dom? Greg? George?" Cory abruptly turned away to conceal his anger, both humiliated and frustrated by his lack of information. Glancing back at Alex's silence, he saw his cousin had stiffened, his eyes serious.

"Are you talking about George and Dominique Castillo?" he asked slowly, shifting against the door.

"You know them?" Cory asked eagerly.

"Know them?" Alex raised his eyebrows higher, giving an impression of stunned incredulity. "Cory, they're big players in the drug game. I'm technically on their fucking payroll."

Both Alex and Cory started, moving aside as the door opened. Bert poked his head around it and eyeballed the broken chair Cory had kicked. Frowning at Alex's bemused expression, he stepped into the room.

"Broken furniture is a good sign. Are we friends?" he probed mildly, carefully watching Alex's face.

"Bert," Alex spoke mechanically, as though struggling to understand his own words. "My cousin needs help rescuing a girl from George Castillo."

Bert whistled, but his grey eyes were alarmed. "She'd be sold by now, for sure."

"No," Mark quickly strode into the room. "George wants her for his son, and himself. He went to a lot of trouble and risk to take her. Men like George don't go to that bother, when it'd be much easier to have her killed."

"So, you're still a drug dealer?" Cory questioned Alex coldly.

"I passed up the marching band." Alex cast his eyes to the ceiling. "You got a problem with that?"

"Really, Cory?" Mark exclaimed, struggling to contain his temper.

"He works for George," Cory nodded toward Alex.

"That's even better," Mark's eyes widened. "You're inside."

"I don't fucking work for George," Alex sharply responded. "But I know who he is. And I know exactly what happens to people who cross the Castillos." He shook his head and headed for the door. "Jesus, Cory, you sure can pick 'em. She must really be something for you to go to these lengths. But I'm not risking life and limb for some chick I've never even met. I'm losing money standing here."

"You said-" Cory argued, but Alex fiercely held up a hand, still facing the doorway.

"Enough! Forgive me, or don't. But you can't ask this of me." He turned back to them. "Don't you get it? If you're on George's radar they'd already know about me." Alex angrily closed his eyes as he suddenly realised the precarious position he'd unwittingly been drawn into. Though elated Cory was willing to forgive the past, it wasn't enough. "My advice? Disappear. I promise you, if they're going to keep a regular girl captive, you two are an unresolved loose end. That we've been estranged for years is probably the only reason I'm still breathing," he finished bitterly, walking out.

Bert followed him. "Sorry, boys," he said regretfully, "but he's right."

Again the room was silent, aside from the sound of dying footsteps as Alex and Bert quickly left the premises. Mark turned on Cory.

"What the fuck happened in here?" he growled. "You couldn't have buttered him up, not even for Katie?"

Cory watched him coldly. "You want her back, don't you?"

"Of course I fucking want her back!" Mark replied exasperatedly.

"For yourself," Cory said flatly. His eyes flashed bronze as they hardened. "What happened between you two when I was recuperating?"

Mark wasn't fooled for a second. Aside from the sharp hostility in Cory's voice, his arms were thick with tension, readying to project his pain and frustration onto his best friend. Taking a deep breath to steady his own temper, Mark looked away.

"Gerard mentioned you were together," Cory continued, "before she was kidnapped." His voice dripped with contempt.

'Surely Gerard wasn't fool enough to-' Mark thought with horror, returning Cory's stare without thinking. Before Mark could regain his composure, Cory had seen the dismay in his eyes.

"My God, it's true, isn't it?" Cory said roughly, his jaw tightened with anger. "You were fucking. After what she went though-"

"No," Mark shook his head, bristling with resentment at the implication. "I wanted to. But I wouldn't force myself on her." His mouth curved into a thin smile as malice took over. "You know, Cory? Have my way, even if she asked me to stop? Does that ring any bells?"

It was petty; tailored to aggravate, and Mark knew better. But he wasn't going to cop the insinuation about his integrity, especially when Cory had actually slept with Katie. And it didn't help that Mark was jealous as hell about it, in addition to the fact that without Gerard's interruption he might have had his way with her after all.

At Marks words, Cory's grit his teeth. Mark didn't understand what he was going through. Mark didn't spend every sleeping moment hearing Katie scream for mercy, whilst being powerless to help her. Mark didn't find himself ripped out of a nightmare to the realisation there was no relief in the present; he couldn't wipe the sweat dripping down his brow, take a deep breath and console himself it wasn't real.

Because it wasn't a nightmare, it was a memory. Cory would never forget the sound of Katie's terrified voice, and his own failure to protect her. He would live with that guilt for the rest of his life, and the cuts currently burning across his chest would always serve as a memento of his inadequacy. The last time he was with Katie, she'd begged him not to leave her. Turning back the clock, he wouldn't have done different because Mark needed him. But it didn't ease the pain of knowing that in their last moment together he'd abandoned her.

"You not taking 'no' for an answer is the reason we're in this mess, you fucking hypocrite!" he shouted, blindly lunging forward.

Mark anticipated the attack. In one lightening move he dodged to the side and grabbed Cory by the neck, aptly swinging him into a headlock. "Calm the fuck down," he growled in Cory's ear. "You want to make history and fight over a woman? Or you want to try and fix things?"

Still breathing heavily, Cory relaxed in his hold. "I'm so fucking tired, Mark," he panted, shutting his eyes in pain. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Can you get it together?" Mark asked.

Cory nodded. "If it weren't for the painkillers..." he said a little unsteadily, but the fury had left his voice.

"Yeah, yeah." Mark released him with a wry smile. Sobering as he recalled Cory's injuries, he gestured toward them. "I didn't open up anything, did I?"

Cory stepped away, looking down at his clenched fists. "It's fine. Mark, I don't know what to say. I-"

"It's forgotten," Mark reassured him. "Are you ok?"

"No, I'm not." Cory's tawny eyes were apologetic, his face strained from exhausted emotion. "But it's no excuse. My God, if you hadn't come after us-" He broke off, not wanting to finish that painful line of thought. "Mark, I didn't mean what I said-"

"And neither did I." Mark interrupted smoothly, hugely relieved Cory had regained his senses. "And don't forget - you came back to rescue me, too."

"Well, that sucks," drawled a feminine voice from the doorway. "I wanted to see you two go at it."

Both Mark and Cory jumped, and the door opened wide to reveal a young woman clutching a gun.

Average height for a girl, she had to raise her chin to meet their bewildered gazes. Her long hair was black, dyed caramel mid-way to the ends, which worked well with her latino complexion. Her eyes were dark as soot, framed with curling lashes, and exotically shaped, almost Asiatic. She wore sturdy black ankle boots, sky-blue shorts and a soft-grey t-shirt almost completely covered by a navy coat, which fell past her knees. A black gym bag sat on the ground behind her in the dim passageway.

"Well," she murmured, stepping into the room, carefully holding the small pistol in front of her. "Sit, both of you."

Cory glanced behind at a set of dusty metal chairs lined up against the wall, but Mark didn't budge.

"You're not going to use that," he scoffed, his blue eyes brightened with amusement. "You're just a kid."

"I'm eighteen, thank you. If you think a teenager can't kill, you're more naive than you think I am," the girl retorted.

"Maybe," Mark replied, shrugging. "But not you. The rate you're shaking, you'd miss even if you wanted to hit us."

The girl exhaled angrily through her nose and lifted a heel to stamp it, but changed her mind.

"I'll shoot you," she insisted, stepping closer.

"You won't," Mark said softly. "He'd never have wanted that for you."

The girl's lip trembled. "Who?!"

"Cut it out, girl," Mark said bluntly, shaking his head. "You're the spitting image of him."

"Don't!" She cried shrilly, shaking the gun at him.

"Oh, my god," Cory whispered with wide eyes, comprehending Mark's observation. "Jesus Christ."

"What?" she snapped, turning the gun on Cory.

"You," Cory pointed at her, shocked. "You're Marco's daughter."

The girl's long hair bounced as she shook her head, as though to shake off their claim.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Mark angrily berated her. "You should be home with your family."

"It's because of family that I fucking am here," she shot back, catching her breath as a painful wave of grief seared her chest at the reminder.

"I'm so sorry," Cory said softly. "About your father, we both are."

"I don't want an apology-" she insisted.

"So you followed us. Endangering yourself. Not thinking about how worried your mother must be," Mark snapped, unimpressed. "What's your name?"

The girl angled her head at him cynically. "What, the big, important owners don't know the staff who work for them?"

Mark had casually edged closer with each exchange. Before she'd registered his proximity, in one quick movement he stepped forward, his hand snaking out to snatch the gun from her clumsy hold.

"Now," Mark said curtly, pocketing the gun. "For one, you don't work at the ranch. But I know your name is Clara, Roseanne or Dee. I just don't know which."

Cory rubbed his lower jaw, concealing his grin at the girl's horrified expression. It was the first time he'd smiled in days.

At her silence, Mark exhaled heavily. "So, you came here for revenge?"

"I c-came to find out what happened," she stammered nervously. Fidgeting with the lining of her coat, she wasn't so cocky now that she was alone with two grown men, without the protection of a gun. "When he left, we knew something was wrong, but he wouldn't say. Then...he was dead."

"We can't give you answers," Mark said, uncomfortably aware the girl was close to tears.

"Yeah, I overheard," she answered, valiantly pulling herself together. Watching them thoughtfully, her dark eyes lightened with mischief, and she jogged her eyebrows. "You both love the same girl."

Mark didn't bat an eye, but Cory cast his gaze to the ceiling with embarrassed frustration, slowly raising his arms to rub both palms over his head to cope with the awkwardness. The girl's attention temporarily wavered as her eyes fixed interestedly on Cory's biceps, which didn't go unnoticed by Mark.

"How did you hear everything unseen?" he queried, genuinely baffled. So much for Alex's guaranteed privacy.

Tossing her hair, the girl arrogantly shrugged a shoulder. "There was a dark space in the hall, next to the lockers. I thought I was sprung, but you and that shortass walked right past me."

"Listen, kid," Mark said flatly, aggravated to have overlooked her presence. "You're going to turn around and go home. We'll take care of the costs."

"You think I came all this way to just go back?" she sneered.

"Yes," Mark nodded, narrowing his eyes and resting his hands on his hips.

"Well, I won't," the girl pouted. Placing her hands on her own hips, she defiantly mimicked Mark's stance. "And you can't make me!"

"Oh, can't I?" Mark gently raised his eyebrows, very satisfied with his choice not to have children.

"If you try, I'll tell the police you raped me!" she threw at him.

"With what evidence?" Mark replied with an ugly laugh, his eyes burning piercingly blue at the insult. "Neither of us have touched you. Nor are we partial to.... little girls." The disdain on his handsome face stung her young pride, and the disinterested tone by which he said 'little girls' caused her cheeks to flush as she was put in the category of 'child' she'd always despised.

"Fuck you, I'm not an infant!" she hissed. "And it doesn't matter, one accusation from me is enough to get attention you don't want. Aren't you trying to avoid the police?"

Mark and Cory exchanged a quick glance.

Noting their hesitancy, she sauntered forward, scuffing her heel across the ground with each step. "By the way," she smiled triumphantly, "it's Rosa."

**********

"Hello? Anybody home?" Sandy cooed, draping her arms about Alex's wide shoulders. Nudging his ponytail aside, she pressed a sensuous wet kiss to the nape of his neck, breathing in the clean scent of his skin. Curling forward to peek at his face, she frowned at his expression.

"I'm thinking some crazy shit," Alex replied, staring blankly ahead.

"Oooh," Sandy smiled mischievously and blew into his ear. "I like that."

"Is sex all you ever think about?" Alex snapped, irritably shrugging her hands from his shoulders and rising from the kitchen table. He was still fully dressed in black, the same outfit in which he'd met Cory and Mark. Sighing down at the sink, he drummed his fingers along its edge. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm in a fix."

"Tell me, then," she narrowed her eyes. "And don't make like I'm the only one with sex on the brain."

A short woman, Sandy didn't have Katie's modelesque grace, but she was sexily curvaceous and appealed in a sultry way. Her bleached blonde hair was sharply cut into a bob, the gold of her hair brightened her brown eyes. With naturally tanned skin-tone and large, firm, breasts, she looked like a shorter, living version of Barbie. Barefoot to comply with Alex's indoor shoe-free policy, she wore a vibrant purple shirt, no bra, and a knee-length, fitted grey skirt.