Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

" N o!" Emilio stared in horror as Bennie brought the knife down. Dave screamed, rolling away from the blade and into a swift kick from another brute.

Emilio struggled on his knees, but the two men gripping his wrists held fast. Pain flashed up his arms. "Let him go! Please! Let him go!" Tears nearly hot enough to burn trailed from his eyes and down his cheeks. Why was this happening? Why couldn't they let him and Dave go?

The four brutes tormenting Dave gathered together, leaving an apparent opening, adding a cruel twist with a false sense of hope. Dave dove for freedom. Bennie stepped into his path and landed a right hook.

Dave reeled, clutching his nose. Every blood-curdling scream tore at Emilio's very soul. Dave fell to his knees, blood spurting between his fingers. He clutched what must surely be broken ribs and pleaded, "Please, let me go! You'll never see me again!"

Emilio tried to turn away. They'd never let Dave go, not after making sport of him. Another thug grabbed Emilio's hair, pulling painfully on his scalp and holding him in place.

"Please, don't make me watch," Emilio rasped. His words fell on deaf ears. These jackals were enjoying the torture too much. Neither Emilio nor Dave would get a swift ending. These animals would prolong the inevitable as long as possible until they grew tired or were called elsewhere.

Music and laughter floated through speakers, the sounds of the surrounding casino on the other side of the wall, where people partied and gambled, unaware of the blatant cruelty going on mere feet away. Why were they doing this? What did Emilio matter? Why couldn't Big Tony just let him go?

Dave turned, only to meet another knife. His every scream, every whimper, robbed a little more of Emilio's hope. He loved this man and would gladly sacrifice himself instead.

The torture lasted for an eternity.

Finally, Dave lay on the floor a few feet away, right eye swollen shut, gasping. With one last glimpse at Dave, Emilio saw the mouthed "I love you." Dave loved him, had meant every promise, every endearment, and would have provided their planned life together.

"Wait for me," Emilio mouthed back. Dave gave a barely discernible nod, and the light faded from his one good eye.

Bennie kicked Dave once, twice, but got no response. He went down on a knee, placing two fingers against Dave's throat, his grin ruthless. "We sure showed that motherfucker." His mirth faded as he focused on Emilio, a sinister gleam in his eyes.

Emilio had already endured kicks, being spat on, and slapped. Now, he'd follow Dave into death. If an afterlife existed, let Dave wait for him there.

Bennie stood in torn jeans and a T-shirt, soaked in Dave's blood, idly brandishing a knife. "Your turn, slut. I've watched the boss pamper and spoil you for months. Seen you strutting around like you deserved to be his pet."

Pamper? Pet?

The muscles in Bennie's biceps flexed, a moment's warning before he slashed.

No! No! No! Emilio squirmed, but Big Tony's hired muscle behind him held firm. The knife bit into his flesh. "Yah!" Emilio screamed. A pop preceded searing agony in his side, then hip, then leg as another thug shot. He sank to the floor, unable to protect himself with his hands zip-tied behind him, but a snick of a knife set him free. Not that he could fight back.

Bennie delivered a swift kick as Emilio lay on the floor, his blood pooling beneath him. Pain shot through every nerve ending. "Pampered little bitch. Didn't know what was good for you, did you? All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and do as you were told. But no! Living in the lap of luxury wasn't good enough."

Luxury? Constantly reminded that he owned nothing, not even the clothes on his back? Or himself?

Emilio had been told many times to "be nice" to anyone Big Tony wished. Sometimes, he gave his body in exchange for their secrets or for other means of currency. Big Tony had used him as a weapon against enemies and as a party favor for friends.

He'd been Big Tony's property and cheated him by trying to leave. No one left Big Tony until he said so, and they were usually in a body bag.

The next time Bennie came at him, Emilio didn't dodge, depriving the asshole of the killing blow. If he must die, Emilio would go out on his own terms. He snarled and threw himself forward with all his might. The blade sank down into his guts.

"I'm coming, Dave," he whispered, collapsing onto the floor.

Music came from the speakers, people in a world outside the door laughing and having a good time, unknowing that two men lost their lives only a few feet away. All background noises faded, as did Bennie's sneering face.

Suddenly, someone was there. Or something. A presence. I'm here to help you, it seemed to say. It went from outside Emilio's body to the inside, sharing his mind. I can help, it said. Let me help.

Emilio smiled, far beyond pain's reach. "That's okay. I want to go. Nothing holds me here." It was still nice that something offered more than a kick or a punch. The presence wrapped around him like a gentle hug, holding Emilio as he breathed his last breath.

In the distance, Dave called. Emilio followed him into the light.

"Hey, boss! He's awake!" a disbelieving voice shouted.

Where am I? What's happening?

A derisive snort sounded somewhere to the left. Why was everything so dark?

"I should've known you wouldn't take the easy way out and die. You always were a stubborn son of a bitch." The danger in the voice made— who am I? —want to crawl away, but every part hurt.

A swift impact to his head made him howl and sent shock waves of agony throughout his body. He couldn't keep the panic from his voice. "What the fuck? Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Though he struggled, he couldn't escape the shroud encasing him. A tarp ? His heart pounded hard. Must get away! A part of him warned, too late for that!

"As if you didn't know," growled the man he assumed was the boss. "You know good and damn well nobody cheats Big Tony and lives to talk about it. Except you do live, Emilio, but I don't see how. Bennie and the boys must be getting slack," he added in snide tones.

Emilio? Was that his name?

The next voice caused a visceral reaction deep inside. "No, boss. We did exactly what you said. I don't know why the little asshole isn't dead." How dare they be so callous about a human life?

And asshole?

Pain racked Emilio's entire body. He wriggled his hand free from whatever shrouded him and rubbed his head. His fingers came away wet and sticky. "I don't know any Big Tony. What is happening?" Even as the words left his mouth, he tasted the half-truth. Somehow, deep in his subconscious, an image formed of an imposing man with a frightful scowl. Big Tony. But he hadn't always scowled. They'd been lovers once. Big Tony had called him "Luv."

Luv, I have a job for you. There's this guy…

Luv, I want you to treat Mr. Smith here real nice…

Luv, do what you gotta, but find out where that cargo's going…

He'd been a tool, an amusement, one of many to be cast aside when someone new came along. The tarp covering him slithered along Emilio's skin, and then a blinding light drove a spike into his head. He screamed as he saw the terrifying faces of Big Tony and Bennie. They looked human for one moment, but then a superimposed image showed fangs and forked tongues. He must be delirious.

Boss and others chuckled. Emilio blinked hard to bring Big Tony into clearer focus. His grin wasn't friendly. "If you won't die the old-fashioned way, then Bennie, take him into the desert. Don't fuck up this time. I want this little weasel gone. Let's make an example of him."

Flashes of memory came of other examples Big Tony had made, how Emilio winced but hadn't helped the poor soul strapped to a chair in Big Tony's office while the thugs took turns punching him, or the guy they'd weighed down with cement blocks and drowned in Lake Mead.

But wait. That hadn't been Emilio, had it?

The heavy tarp fell back over him, and he screamed when powerful arms wrapped around him. Pain! What had they done to him? He fell into something—a car's trunk?— with a thump, then another thump muffled Big Tony's vicious chortling. A roar sounded, and then they were moving.

Where was he? A car, his hazy memory supplied. A car? What was a car? His memory once again came to the rescue, providing images. Memories, in quick succession. He'd come to Las Vegas with an older lover who'd bet him in a card game. He'd thought it was all in good fun until he wound up the property of Big Tony.

Then he'd strolled into the casino one night and met a beautiful card shark named Dave. Big Tony ordered Emilio to watch the man and find out how he had won so many hands of blackjack. Dave, with his gorgeous smile, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and easy manner. He hadn't cheated; he was just a skilled card player.

Cards wasn't the only thing he won that night—he'd also captured Emilio's neglected heart.

Dave was a skillful gambler and a thoughtful lover. He hadn't seen Emilio as property or a plaything and didn't lavish him with material gifts. Instead, he took the time to get to know Emilio and provide more personal gifts, like an intimate dinner or a trip outside of town.

Dave hadn't laughed at Emilio's upbringing but regaled him with tales of other places—places Dave promised to take him one day. Small wonder Emilio fell in love. Dave lavished affection and one day admitted to returning Emilio's love, an answer to prayers Emilio didn't quite know how to voice. They planned to go away together.

A sudden spike stabbed Emilio's heart. Dave. Dead. His gorgeous blue eyes forever closed. Now Emilio would die. Or had he already? He wasn't too sure.

He had no answers. There was no escaping fate. Mostly, he mourned his lost love. The memories seemed hazy, as though viewed from a distance. Were they really Emilio's or someone else's? For that matter, was he really Emilio?

He combed through fractured memories while the car rumbled to their unknown destination, trying to remember who he was beyond Dave. He recalled a purple sky and purple waves, of floating above the ground. There was a rumble, then screams, then… nothing.

No, that couldn't be right.

The car came to a stop. Two things slammed that registered as doors. Then, there was a click, and music came from somewhere. A car radio? How'd he know that? Country music?

"C'mon. The sooner we do this, the sooner we get home," the one called Bennie said, his voice flat and emotionless, as if he brought people into the desert all the time, whatever "desert" meant.

Once more, arms lifted Emilio from the trunk, then dropped him onto the hard ground. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

"Good riddance, asshole," Bennie snapped. Thumps followed, and then the rumbling car noise faded. Emilio twisted and turned as much as the pain allowed, finally getting the wrapping off his head. There. He could breathe easier now.

He stared up at shining jewels in a sea of black. Stars, his memory provided. He convulsed. Shivers. Cold. Shock.

Slowly, slowly, the pain receded. Where there'd been wetness— blood! —there was nothing. Was this body healing itself? So much he didn't know, but this wasn't his original body. Somehow, something had brought him here. From where? For what purpose? Why couldn't he remember?

He reviewed the events, suddenly finding himself in this body. Someone else being there for a moment before leaving. The real Emilio had gone, leaving behind… What? Memories that weren't his own came to mind of a small child holding up chubby arms. Sister. "Up, Lio, up!"

Lio. Not Emilio. He'd be Lio until he found out who he actually was.

The stars traveled across the sky as Lio lay on some kind of gritty material, shivering with cold. Sand! After several tries, he rolled to his side, swiveling to look around. The pain had grown tolerable now. Even as the darkness faded, he saw only nothingness.

A single sun rose. Weren't there supposed to be two? His mouth felt dry. He opened himself to the atmosphere on instinct, willing nourishment into his body.

Nothing. Wasn't that how he usually supplied his body's needs?

The sun grew hot as it climbed higher into the sky—too hot—unlike the twin purple-hued suns of Lio's fractured memories. He rolled over, pushed to his knees, and tried to stand. His legs wobbled, and he dropped back down. The sand grew too hot to lie on. Was this what Big Tony intended? For Lio to burn to death in the heat?

His mind grew cloudy and his body weak. He was tired—so tired—if he just closed his eyes… No! He couldn't leave. He had a task to fulfill if he could only remember. In a moment of desperation, he looked around again, hoping for something, anything, that might save him.

Sounds floated through the scalding air. Music! Was another car approaching? Suddenly, bright colors appeared in the distance, red and white stripes, a flash of bright blue. The scent of something wonderful nearly made him weep. Popcorn? He must be dreaming. There couldn't be this thing, this— carnival!— in the middle of the desert. A mirage? He'd heard of those.

Two shapes approached, hazy in the heat. Bennie hadn't come back to torment him some more, had he?

A face came into view: pale skin, a shock of copper hair. A grim line for a mouth. A man even larger than Bennie. "Come. We need to get him in a tent," the vision said, speaking to someone other than Lio. To Lio, he said, "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

He scooped Lio into his arms, jarring his injuries. Lio whimpered, too weak to scream.

The man winced. "Sorry, I know this is gonna hurt, but we've got to get you someplace safe."

Was any place safe anymore? Lake Tahoe hadn't been far enough away from Big Tony's grasp. Flashes of color passed Lio's vision, and he blinked blearily at a sign that said, "Welcome Traveler."

A man in all black approached, concern etched on his handsome face. "Rest now," he said, his voice soft yet commanding.

The world obeyed the command. All went dark.