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Chapter 51 - PC Repercussions

“Justin? Justin, please. Please answer me. Justin?” Brian had been calling the boy’s name for a couple of minutes now and was starting to freak out that he still wasn't responding. “Justin . . . Sunshine, please!”

“Huh?” Finally, something must have got through to the boy.

“Welcome back, Sunshine,” Brian replied, trying to sound as upbeat as possible considering the fact that he was tied to a fucking bench and he'd just watched his boyfriend kill someone.

Justin smiled hazily over at Brian, but it wasn't clear if the boy was really all the way there with him or not.

“Hey, Sunshine. I could use a hand here. Do you think you could undo these straps and help me out of this contraption?” Brian asked, speaking quietly and calmly, worried about startling the youth.

The young blond smiled again, looking back at Brian with such a sweet expression it made Brian's heart ache. What the fuck had that monster done to his sweet innocent boy? If he hadn’t been obviously dead already, Brian would have killed the bastard again himself.

“Sunshine?” Brian spoke up a little louder, trying to capture the younger man's attention. He figured it was probably time to resort to orders as opposed to requests. “Justin. Get up now. Come over here and undo these straps.”

“Yes, Brian,” the compliant PC answered on cue.

It still took him a minute or two to follow through. The leather cord that Justin had used to choke Sapperstein to death - was that some kind of whip? Brian wondered as he saw it unraveled - was wound so tightly around the boy’s hands that he couldn’t get free of it at first. Brian was quietly panicking at that observation, scared that the young artist might have seriously damaged his hands. But after a little initial struggle, Justin seemed able to loosen the thin coil of leather and release his hands, flexing them to relieve any lingering cramping once he’d finally let go. Then he stood up, looking down at the body crumpled on the floor at his naked feet, seemingly confused by the sight. The boy only paused for moment or two, though, before he gingerly stepped around the inert form and came over to where Brian was bound to the odious bench.

Brian noted the worried expression that came over the boy’s face when the youth finally really looked at Brian. Brian also didn’t care for the whimper of concern the boy voiced as he noticed the exceptionally tight bindings. The silent boy seemed even more upset when he’d undone the first couple of straps and noted the rough red burn marks on Brian’s skin caused by his struggles to free himself when he’d first come to and realized what the fuck was going on. Not that the bound man had managed to do much more than rub his wrists and ankles raw - the straps were too tight and the bench far too solidly built for Brian to have fought his way free - but when he’d seen the struggle going on between Justin and The Sapp, he’d nevertheless tried his fucking hardest. However Brian was far more worried by Justin’s odd over-reaction to the marks than he was by the marks themselves.

As soon as the boy had unbuckled all the padded leather straps, he helped Brian to sit up on the seat of the bench. Then Justin turned back to the dead body waiting on the floor behind him and calmly rolled the inert form over so that he could unhook the keychain from the man’s belt. He quickly sorted through the keys and easily found the one that released the excessively tight handcuffs, which fell to the floor with a metallic clanking. The removal of the cuffs evoked yet another whimper of concern from the boy as he knelt at Brian’s feet, took one raw wrist in his hand and tenderly rubbed it to help get the circulation back into the cold hand. Brian felt so strange having Justin fussing over HIM like that - it was obvious from just a glance that the boy was a lot more seriously hurt than Brian was. Something was definitely not right here.

“Hey, Sunshine. Come sit up here with me, please,” Brian prompted, pulling the PC up from the floor and enfolding him in his arms at long last. “Fuck! I missed you so damned much, Sunshine. Are you okay? Did he . . .” Brian swallowed in a futile attempt to dislodge the lump in his throat before continuing. “Did he hurt you?”

The boy shook his head in the negative, looking up at Brian with an expression so ridiculously innocent and trusting that he felt like screaming. How could anyone hurt this boy? How could anyone even think about doing such a reprehensible thing. This beautiful young man was so fucking perfect and pure and these monsters had been bent on destroying that. Why? For what purpose? And how did he ensure that it would never ever happen?

“Shit, Justin. I thought I’d fucking lost you.” Brian grabbed the younger man's face with both hands, gently framing that precious, amazing, beautiful, picture of innocence, and rejoiced that it wasn’t too late. “But you're still here, thank fuck, so I still have time to tell you . . . I love you, Sunshine. I fucking LOVE you, damn it! And don’t you EVER scare me like this again, you hear me?”

“Yes, Brian,” the boy answered simply, emphatically and without any hesitation at all.

What Brian heard was, “I love you too, damn it!”

They were still sitting there like that, grinning radiantly at each other with matching sunshine smiles, who knew how many minutes later when Carl Horvath, dressed in a bulletproof vest and leading what looked like a full swat team, arrived in the Training Room.

“Hey, Carl!” Brian greeted the astonished looking police detective. “I’m afraid you’re a little late. You missed all the fun.”

For some inexplicable reason, that seemed to set Justin off on a laughing jag that sounded more than a little hysterical. Brian looked at the kid with one eyebrow raised questioningly, but that only increased the giggling. So Brian shook his head, gathered the boy into his arms and held him as tightly as he could, trying to stave off the shock that seemed to be taking over.

Unfortunately, that tight hug elicited a very negative reaction. The laughing died precipitately and Justin groaned loudly, panting through the sharp stab of pain that wracked him. Brian quickly let go, whereupon Justin basically collapsed against his chest.

“Shit! How bad are you hurt, Justin?” Brian demanded, trying to hold up the boy who looked like he was about to faint, but scared to grab him too hard for fear of causing more pain. “Fuck, Carl, I need some help here. Justin’s hurt.”

“We’ve got paramedics on the way, Brian,” Carl announced, standing up from where he’d been kneeling next to Sapperstein's body and looking over to the two men sitting only a couple feet away. “While we’re waiting on that, care to tell me what the fuck happened here? Who is this? And who killed him?”

Brian, who’s attention was still focused almost completely on Justin, heard the question but didn’t immediately respond. Justin was Brian’s only priority. His health and his well being. And Brian didn’t think his boy’s well being would be served by being involved with the inevitable investigation into a PC killing of his Handler. Even if that killing was entirely justifiable, it would still be a nightmare.

“That is Gary Sapperstein,” Brian finally answered once he’d sufficiently thought things through and assured himself that Justin would be okay for the time being. “He was Justin’s original Handler, and also the slimeball who kidnapped my PC yesterday. I’m pretty fucking sure that he did it at Bellweather’s request, but I’m not one hundred percent sure how to prove that.”

Brian paused long enough to leave a kiss on Justin’s temple, just because the boy was there and alive and because he fucking wanted to, before continuing with the real shocker.

“And, to answer your other question, I’m the one that killed him, Carl.” The cop didn’t say a word, so Brian rambled on. “I came in here to get my PC back and that nutcase attacked me. He was going to strike me with that bullwhip. So I grabbed it away from him and fought back. But he wouldn’t stop, so I wrapped the thing around his neck and strangled him with it. I didn’t mean to actually kill him, I just wanted to knock him out, but we were struggling and it sort of just happened. I’m not sorry though. He was a fucking barbarian and it was him or me.”

“Uh huh . . . So, you're telling me you killed the guy in self defense?” Horvath asked dubiously.

“Yes. That is EXACTLY what I’m telling you, Detective,” Brian asserted, looking the cop straight in the eye and not backing down.

Carl looked at Brian carefully, the cop’s eyes pausing on the raw red marks easily visible on his wrists and then carrying on down to the pair of handcuffs lying forgotten on the floor. Brian also noted the way the older man scanned Justin’s battered and bruised body, every single injury to which was patently obvious since the PC was still naked. For about thirty seconds more, the policeman scrutinized the well-muscled, albeit slightly overweight, body of the dead Handler and then compared it to the waif of a PC desperately clinging to Brian, looking so fragile that he probably couldn't hold himself upright in a light breeze.

“Okay,” Carl said, shrugging his shoulders and then turning towards the other waiting police officers. “Looks like we got a self defense death, folks. Call the meat wagon and get a forensics team over here stat. I want all the financial records in this place boxed up as well as all this sex crap . . .”

Brian watched the circus unfold around him for another ten minutes or so, just sitting there on the bench, holding Justin, and content not to go anywhere yet. Somebody had draped a large paper sheet over The Sapp’s body, which meant they didn't have to look at that unpleasantness. Justin seemed equally agreeable with the sitting thing, so Brian really didn't see the need to move. And they might have gone on sitting there until the paramedics arrived or the cops ordered them to leave, except that Justin started to nod off.

“You need me around here any longer, Carl?” Brian asked the lead detective as the cop strode past directing everyone else. “I think we’ll wait for the paramedics outside and then head on home as soon as possible. Justin's fucking exhausted. I wouldn't mind finally getting some sleep myself.”

“Sounds fine to me. I don't need you here for anything,” Horvath agreed. “But we do need BOTH of you checked out by the medics before you leave - from the looks of it, you're probably gonna need stitches for that head wound, Kinney,” Brian reached up and prodded the side of his head, wincing at the painful injury he'd practically forgotten in his concern for Justin. “And you'll both have to come by the station tomorrow to give an official statement. But there's no reason for you to cool your heels here. I know where to find you if I need to.”

“Thanks, Carl. Just let me know what time you want me and I'll be there with bells on,” Brian promised the cop who hustled off. Jostling the sleepy blond leaning against his side he asked, “you ready to get out of here and head home, Sunshine?”

“No,” the PC asserted, waking up instantly and looking obstinately back at his owner with a very un-PC stubbornness.

“No? Why not? Don't you want to go home and get some rest, Sunshine? I can see you're tired. You look like you're about to fall asleep sitting up. Why would you want to stick around here?”

The boy sat up straighter, looking around himself at the room for the first time. Brian watched the pale brow wrinkle with apprehension and possibly a bit of disbelief as the kid spotted the paper-draped body. But, whatever he was looking for, that wasn’t it, and his gaze soon slid away from the disagreeable sight. The azure eyes eventually focused on the the handcuffs, still lying on the floor just beyond Brian’s right foot, and right next to them the Sapp’s keys. With a nod, the boy looked up at Brian and pointed emphatically to the set of keys. Brian was confused - he had no idea why Justin would want the man’s keys - but he knew his stubborn little brat wasn’t going to budge before he did whatever it was the boy thought he had to do.

“Carl?” Brian interrupted the detective who was busy speaking with the just-then-arrived Medical Examiner. “I need to borrow Sapperstein’s keys for a minute.” Brian nodded his head to the side, guiding Horvath’s attention to the boy who was still pointing to the waiting keys.

“What do you need with those keys?” Horvath questioned, stepping nearer so he could deal with this new, out-of-the-blue request. “That stuff is all evidence, Kinney. We shouldn’t disturb anything until the entire scene has been processed.”

“I don’t know why, Carl, but Justin wants those keys. I think he knows something. And it’s got to be important or he wouldn’t ask,” Brian asserted.

It took Carl a half a minute of deep thought while watching the pair - Justin, looking deferential but somehow still determined, and Brian, with his arm protectively wrapped around the youth’s shoulders, backing him up - before he capitulated.

“Fine. But if you’re taking them out of here, I’m going with you.” The detective bent over with a grunt and picked up the keys, handing them to the mute PC who thanked him with a shy smile.

Justin jumped up from the bench straight away, pulling Brian after him by the hand, and towing him out of the room. They turned left in the hallway, heading away from the front of the building and the door through which Brian had originally entered. The corridor ended just a few meters further on. Justin came to a halt in front of the wood panelled end wall with Brian standing next to him and Carl a pace behind. Then, surprising both the older men, the boy pressed on the left side of the panelling, producing a loud ‘click’ from some hidden mechanism, and the entire section of seemingly solid wall swung open to reveal a concealed staircase.

“What the hell?” Carl exclaimed from behind Brian’s shoulder. Justin, however, was already pulling Brian after him on his way down the stairs, and didn’t bother to answer. “Stop!” Horvath ordered. “Let me go first. You don’t know who the fuck is down there or if it’s safe.”

Brian yielded to the cop’s directive, pulling Justin to the side so the detective could shoulder past them and scurry down the stairs with his gun drawn. Justin whimpered a little at that sight. He seemed more worried about Carl and his gun than he had been about going down the mysterious staircase alone which, to Brian’s mind, meant that it was more than likely safe. It didn’t hurt to let Horvath make sure though.

“Kinney. It’s all clear. Bring me those keys,” Carl yelled back up the stairs a minute later.

Brian and Justin, hand in hand, descended the long flight of stairs. At the bottom, there was a sharp turn to the left through another doorway. Once through there, Brian found himself standing in a brightly lit basement passageway with rough-finished cement walls. The ceiling was lined with industrial-grade, unshaded, fluorescent light fixtures, making the small area seem unusually garish. There were doors along both sides of the hall. On the left were two regular wooden doors. Carl was rattling the door handle of one of these, which was clearly locked. On the right-hand side, though, there were five narrower, ominous-looking metal doors, each secured with a metal bar across its front and a mammoth padlock.

Justin trotted up to the first metal door and quickly flipped through the bunch of keys. It took him three tries to find the correct one for that particular lock, but he persisted. Brian and Carl waited nearby, anxious and curious about what they’d discover behind the door that Justin wanted opened so badly.

As soon as the lock was off, the boy shoved the metal bar up, lifting it out of the way and then wrenching the door open. The light from the corridor poured into the space behind the door, revealing a tiny, lightless hole in the wall room. Justin ran inside without waiting for his companions, completely disregarding Carl’s warning to be careful. Brian heard it, though, and followed closely on Justin’s heels.

Brian looked around the small cell, not at all happy with what he found. The room was tiny - only about two meters wide and maybe three or four meters deep. Like the hallway, it had only rough concrete walls and the same for a floor. There was no window and no lighting. The entire place was damp and cold. In the corner behind the door there was a large open drain which, judging by the smell, was the only concession to toilet facilities. Shoved up against the back wall, on the bare floor, was a thin, torn and disgustingly dirty mattress pad. And that was it.

A foot or two in front of the mattress, the room’s occupants were waiting. Brian saw the two dirty, naked PCs, kneeling side by side on the hard, damp floor with their heads bowed submissively, and felt his stomach roil at the image. Justin had already run over to them, kicking aside a pair of heavy-looking leg shackles that were lying on the ground in his path. Sunshine had then fallen to his own knees, trying to hug both captives at the same time. The PCs were blinking into the blinding light from the hallway, obviously confused about what was going on, and looking back with unmistakable fear at the stunned men still standing in the doorway.

“Little One?” the big black man on the right asked, trying to fend off the boy’s arms, which seemed intent on pulling him over onto his face.

“What . . . ?” the other one, a smaller, dark-haired boy asked at the same time.

“Brian!” Justin answered, as if that one word explained all.

Both of the new PCs looked from the boy up towards Brian with completely awed expressions.

“That’s your ‘Brian’? He came for you? It actually worked?” the smaller of the two asked, sounding thunderstruck.

Justin nodded at them happily, his head bobbing up and down like a demented bobble-head doll. If the scene wasn’t so horrific, Brian might have actually laughed. Instead, he rushed over to the group and tried to figure out how to help these two.

“That’s me. Brian Kinney. At your service, gentlemen,” he introduced himself jocularly in an attempt to conceal his horror at the situation he found these men in. “I think we’ve had enough kneeling for today, though. Do you guys think you can stand up? Can I help?”

The two captives seemed so stunned that neither responded immediately. Brian figured they weren’t used to anyone offering to help them. Justin climbed wearily to his own feet and moved over to help the smaller of the two remaining PCs. Brian leaned down and assisted the big guy. Once they were both standing, Brian patiently led the group out of the reeking cell into the hallway.

“You got these ones, Kinney?” Horvath asked, already working at the lock of the next cell over. “Take them all upstairs. The paramedics should be here by now. Have them see what they can do.” The detective had the lock off the second door by that point and he was simultaneously working to unseat the bar from its hasps and yelling orders into the radio mic hooked to the shoulder of his police vest. “Greely, get the hell down here to the basement - it’s through the door at the end of the main hall - and bring Roberts with you. We’ve got a major situation. Oh, and call for more backup. And another ambulance or two. Fuck . . .” Brian heard groaning as the cop pulled open the second door, apparently even more appalled by what he found in there. “We’re gonna need a LOT more help.”

Brian felt a little overwhelmed himself. The two new PCs were shambling along, moving very slowly and clearly unsure what to do or where to go. They very obviously both needed medical care though.

The one Justin had in hand was limping badly. Brian had thought the boy looked familiar, and upon closer scrutiny he recognized the PC he’d seen with Bellweather back at Lapointe’s dinner party - only, the bedraggled, dirty, stick-thin and bruised boy standing in front of him, bore only a passing resemblance to the kid Brian remembered. It was unnerving what a horrifying difference only a few weeks had made to the boy’s appearance.

The tall black man that Brian was helping seemed at first glance to be in better shape, but not by much. It was hard to tell, but Brian thought this one was older, maybe close to Brian’s own age. He was also thin, but looked like he naturally had a sturdier body-type than the other two twink-like boys. The real difference between this one and the twinks, though, was that this man’s back was covered nape to knees with nasty, red welts - stripes from successive whippings, if Brian was right in his assessment - some of which had broken the skin and a couple looking like they might be infected. Despite his size, the man was incredibly weak, and Brian ended up cinching an arm around the man’s waist in order to help him climb the stairs, even though he worried that the contact might exacerbate the pain to his back.

The four of them managed to eventually get up the stairs and out the front door, where they did indeed find one ambulance waiting. The paramedics intercepted their group halfway from the house and led them off to the side. Meanwhile a series of additional vehicles were pouring in through the gates of the compound. Brian counted two police cruisers, another ambulance, a fire truck, and a Sheriff's van. It looked like Horvath was going to be busy for quite a while. Brian didn’t have time to think about that though - he was already busy assisting the medics who had started working on his boys.

Despite the fact that Brian would have preferred to just take his Sunshine and hurry home, it soon turned out that a trip to the hospital would have to come first. The paramedics were insisting on x-raying Justin’s injured ribs. They also strongly advised Brian to have a doctor look at his head, fearing a possible concussion and recommending stitches if he didn’t want the gash over his ear to scar. Even so, Brian was about to insist that he could drive them there himself . . . until he looked over and noticed that his jeep was no longer parked where he’d left it outside the gates. Which is how he ended up riding to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with his Sunshine and the boy’s two PC friends.

The hospital ER was as crazy as those places always were. The whole moil of them were shunted around from place to place in an endlessly confusing round of ‘Go Here & Wait’. Matters were further complicated by the fact that Justin stubbornly refused to let either of his friends - who Brian had found out were named Luke and Rex - out of his sight. And since Brian wasn’t about to let Justin out of HIS sight either, the four of them had to go everywhere together like some bizarre siamese quadruplets. Brian really didn’t complain too much though. He could see how frightened and alone the poor battered PCs were and it had his protective nature running on overdrive. Not to mention the fact that, from the bits and pieces of the story which was emerging, it seemed like these two had done their best to help Justin while he’d been trapped in that place. Brian owed them for that. So he tolerantly trailed along behind the group, escorting them to every lab and test and exam room with uncharacteristic docility.

In the end, it turned out to be a good thing they’d come to the hospital. Justin’s ribs were x-rayed and thankfully declared only cracked, not broken. He should heal pretty fast. The bruising was painful and ugly but none of his injuries would leave permanent marks. Brian, on the other hand, was more seriously hurt than he’d thought. The knock on his noggin had been hard enough to result in a mild concussion. If he hadn’t been so worried about Justin, he’d probably have paid more attention to the pounding headache and slight dizziness. He also ended up needing twenty three stitches. The doctor had wanted to keep him overnight, but Brian refused, promising to be good and let Justin watch over him at home.

While he was waiting for the doctor to write him a prescription for some pain meds, and Justin was occupied holding Luke’s hand as an intern cleaned and stitched up a couple of the more serious slashes on the big man’s back, Brian finally took the time to deal with the endlessly ringing cell phone that he’d been ignoring so far. Pulling it out of his pocket, he groaned at the notice telling him he had seventeen voice mail messages and more than twenty missed calls. Right as he was scrolling through the messages, the damned thing rang again - another call from Debbie - so he answered.

“Hey, Deb.”

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Deb’ me, Brian Kinney! I’ve been calling you for the past two hours. What the hell is going on? Where are you? Did you find Justin? Is he safe? Tell me what’s going on, you asshole, before I have a fucking aneurysm!”

“Shit, Deb! I’ve been a little fucking busy rescuing my damsel in distress here. I didn’t have time to chat,” Brian rejoined, earning himself a disapproving look from his Sunshine at the ‘damsel’ comment. “But, yes, I’ve got Justin. He’s fine. We’re both a little worse for wear, though, and we’re still at the hospital, which is why I didn’t call you earlier.”

“The hospital? Oh no! What’s wrong? Do you need me to come down there?” Debbie seized on the word ‘hospital’ and began to immediately freak out.

“Calm the fuck down, Debbie!” Brian yelled through the phone. “I told you already, we’re FINE. And no, please do NOT come down here. We’re almost done and going to be heading home pretty soon. I just want to get Justin home, crawl into bed and sleep for a fucking week. Which, by the way, means that neither you nor any of your Liberty Avenue Minions better be coming over to bug us tonight. Got it?”

“If you’re SURE you’re okay . . . I’ll tell the gang to give you some peace and quiet for tonight. But you don’t get to hide out for a whole week. I want to see BOTH of you tomorrow morning for breakfast at the Diner. I need to see my Sunshine with my own eyes before I’ll be able to rest easy and know that he’s okay. You got it?” Brian whimpered into the phone, but knew it was futile to try and resist. “I mean it, Brian. If you and Justin aren’t sitting at my counter by ten-thirty tomorrow morning, I’ll be coming over there to kick your skinny little ass.”

“Okay, Ma. I promise,” Brian gave in with a sigh.

“Good boy. Now, make sure you tell Sunshine that I love him. And both of you take care of yourselves, you hear?”

“Will do, Deb.” Brian was still shaking his head after he hung up. That woman and her motherly concern . . . “Sunshine, Deb ordered me to tell you that she loves you,” he relayed obediently, trying not to stumble over the lesbianic words.

It was okay, though, because the message earned him a brilliant Sunshine smile along with a tiny giggle, so it was worth the effort. “Shit, Sunshine, you have to stop being so fucking adorable all the damn time!” Brian complained. “Damn . . . did I just say that out loud? You’re turning me into a fucking lesbian, Sunshine.”

“Oh, shut up! Just because you say the word ‘adorable’ once a century it doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian, Boss,” a familiar female voice lectured, right before Brian’s friend and sometime assistant peeked her head around the curtain of the cubicle where they were all gathered.

“Cynthia? What the fuck are you doing down here?” Brian wondered.

“I’ve been worried sick ever since you ran off to the Sapp’s place and then never called me back, you idiot,” Cynthia explained, coming over to hug Brian even though neither of them were really the hugging type. “And, since you weren’t returning my calls, I resorted to that tracking app I secretly installed on your phone about a year ago without your knowledge - which scared me half to death when it showed you were at the hospital. So, I decided to just come on down and make sure you weren’t dead,” she paused to see if Brian was going to give her shit about the sneaky phone tracking app, but the man was too caught up in staring with a goofy, lovestruck grin at his equally smiley blond. “I see you found Justin - Hey, Justin. Everything good?”

Brian tilted his head in Justin’s direction. “Three cracked ribs and more bruises than you can count.” Then he pointed at the shaved patch on the side of his own head with a frown. “Concussion and a fuckload of stitches.” Cynthia looked satisfactorily concerned but didn’t dote, which is why Brian liked the woman so much. “Otherwise, we’re good.”

“Thank fuck! I’m so glad you’re safe, Justin. Brian was going nuts without you,” she disclosed, earning her a slap to the arm from her boss for telling tales out of school and a chuckle from the teen. “What happened to that fucker, Sapperstein? I hope to hell he’s in custody.”

“Not exactly,” Brian looked over at the three PCs and was reassured that they all seemed involved in whatever the intern was telling Luke. Brian turned back to Cynthia, and added in a hushed voice, “About that . . . I may need another lawyer. A criminal one this time.”

“What the fuck happened, Brian?” Cynthia was visibly shocked.

“The Sapp is dead. I told Horvath I did it in self defense,” Brian replied evasively. “And it may get . . . complicated.”

“Shit, Brian . . .”

“You can say that again,” Brian agreed with her assessment. “All that matters, though, is that Justin’s out of there and he’ll be okay. I don’t care about the rest. It was . . . Fuck, Cyn. That place was bad.” Brian looked over at the trio by the exam table and immediately felt another wave of anger bubbling up from his gut. “Nobody should ever be treated that way. Nobody.”

Cynthia followed Brian’s line of sight and nodded her head in agreement.

“Knock, knock.” Their depressing thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of everyone’s favorite Police Detective. “How you doing in here Kinney? Everybody okay?”

“We’re peachy, Carl. Everything wrapped up out at Sapperstein’s?” Brian asked.

“It’s still a fucking mess out there, but I’ve got half the department working on it. We’ve got four of Sapperstein’s guys in custody and I think a couple of them will be more than happy to talk. With that, that info you two gave me before and the tidbits I’ve already amassed in my own investigation, I have more than enough to pull in Bellweather too. I should have the signed arrest warrant for that creep by the time I’m done here.” Horvath sounded pleased with himself, and Brian couldn’t agree more. “And if all goes well, I’ll be hosting Taylor and Stockwell in my jail cell at the Justice Center by the end of the week as well.

“Excellent. Couldn't happen to a sorrier set of criminals,” Brian cheered. “Oh, by the way, Carl, I think Sapperstein did something with my fucking car on top of everything else. It wasn’t there when I came out. So, if you find a black jeep while you’re out there digging around, it’s probably mine.

“Got it. I’ll tell the boys to keep an eye out. If we don’t find it by tomorrow, I’ll have you fill out the missing vehicle paperwork when you come in to give your statement,” Cal reminded his witness. “And don’t forget that I’ll need your PC to come in as well . . . What the hell is it NOW?” he complained as his phone started buzzing again and he stepped out of the treatment area to answer it.

“I think we’re all done here,” the intern that had been doing Luke’s stitches finally announced, helping the man up off the table and coming over to Brian with a sheet of paper in his hand. “Here are the home care instructions. The stitches will dissolve on their own in about ten to fifteen days. Just keep the area clean and bandaged. You can use a topical ointment like Neosporin if you like, but it should heal just fine. He’ll be really sore though . . .”

“Whoa. I’m not this one’s owner.” Brian tried to hand the instruction sheet back to the doctor. “I’m not going to . . .”

“Brian.” Justin was at his elbow before he could finish his sentence, looking up at him with those fucking beautiful, expressive blue eyes and begging him silently. The young man didn’t actually have to say a word. All he had to do was look over at the two other PCs, then back up at Brian, and Brian was pretty much toast.

“Justin . . . They don’t belong to me. I can’t just walk out of here with two random PCs,” he tried to wheedle out of it, and got himself another one of THOSE looks. “But, Sunshine . . .”

“Brian.”

Damn it! When the kid said his name like that Brian just couldn’t say no to him. He just couldn’t fucking do it. Fucking adorable, little, blond-haired, blue-eyed, bubble-butt bearing, twinkie . . .

“Fine.” Brian pulled aside the curtain that surrounded the cubicle and was glad to see Horvath just finishing up his call a few paces away. “Carl? You going to arrest me if I take these two,” he pointed to Rex and Luke, “home with me? Apparently Sunshine wants to have a sleep over.”

“Go for it, Kinney!” Horvath smiled amiably at him. “There were twenty-seven PCs being kept in that hell-hole. Almost all of them are in need of medical attention. I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do with them all. As long as I know where to find them if I need them later, you can take as many as you like.”

“Thanks, but I think two is more than enough. Hell, Justin alone is a total fucking handful most days. I don’t need . . .” the spunky little PC squeezed Brian’s hand - hard - effectively shutting him up. “I’ll be good with these two.”

The undignified giggling from the PA standing next to Brian earned her an angry scowl and a new set of orders. “Instead of laughing at me, Cynthia, maybe you could actually make yourself useful and go find some clothes for all of them? They can’t walk around wrapped up in blankets or backless hospital gowns forever.”

“Yes, Sir. Boss, Sir,” Cynthia teased and quickly ducked out of the way before Brian could shoot another smirk her way.

“Okay, give me all the fucking instructions for all of them,” Brian said to the intern with a pathetic sigh.

Brian was still mumbling unhappily about ‘fucking adorable, stubborn, blond boys’ twenty minutes later when Cynthia drove up to the hospital's front entrance to pick the lot of them up and carry them back to the loft.