The air had turned uncomfortably chilly, causing Brian to pull the collar of his jacket up around his neck. His thoughts momentarily wandered to the warmth of his bed back home and inevitably to the beautiful young man who waited to join him there when he got back. A tiny glimmer of a smile passed over his face, but was erased quickly by the sound of children yelling and a dog barking nearby in the center of a large field in the park he was standing in. He shuffled his feet which brought the attention of his companion. Carl had worked with Brian long enough to know the man could handle any kind of situation they might get into, but he could swear that Brian was now as nervous as a cat in the middle of a pack of wild dogs. He could tell that Brian was anxious to get this thing over with. The truth was, so was he. 

Brian and Carl had flown into New York City and grabbed the closest taxi to reach their destination...the precinct that was going to work with them to capture Chris Hobbs and his father as they met up in the park to exchange money for Chris' escape from the Country. Both men liked what they saw when the Captain at the precinct introduced the four Officers who were going to accompany them at the stakeout. All four men were obviously seasoned veterans with the look of men who could handle themselves quite well. That feeling carried over after talking with them for a little while. It wasn't always easy for the cops from one State to work with cops from another State. They could often be notoriously territorial while going about their job, but they made it clear that they didn't want men like Hobbs running around their town. They were more than happy to have him picked up and transported back home.

The six men were soon staked out in teams of two at key points around the area that Hobbs, Sr. had described as the meeting spot for his son to join him. The phone tap had provided the approximate time for the meet, but the detectives knew that they shouldn't take any chances. They came early and settled in place in case the time had been changed. The only thing they were certain of was that the meet was for this very day. It was obvious that Hobbs, Sr. wanted to get the whole thing over and Brian and Carl were on the same plane with the man so they knew he was in town. Now, all they had to do was wait. 

The hours dragged on like a race running through quicksand. Each group of men had a perfect vantage point from different angles of the row of benches that Hobbs, Sr. had mentioned to his son. Folks passed by the benches on the walkway in front as they hurried to their destinations. Some stopped to relax, check their papers, make a phone call, or just take a break while watching busy people all around them. No one stayed for very long. It seemed the whole world had places to go, people to see. The detectives scanned every face looking for the one that they wanted to see the most. As each person came and went, the tension mounted. 

The hour was getting late. Hobbs had wanted to meet at mid-afternoon while the park was particularly busy with folks taking lunch breaks and children playing before it got too cold when the sun went down. He figured they'd be more anonymous with lots of people around. Neither man had shown up yet. The sun was still up but it had begun to set lower into the early evening sky. The thought crossed Brian's mind that Hobbs may have used a pay phone to call his son and change their plans. If Chris got away, Brian wasn't sure how he would handle it. Just as he was about to voice his concerns to Carl, he spotted a familiar figure rounding the corner to his left. 

He and Carl were stationed behind a thick section of high shrubbery just to the right of the benches. They were at least fifteen to twenty yards or more away, and used binoculars to zero in on faces walking the pathway. Brian pulled his glasses back up to his eyes and peered at the man who was walking briskly towards the benches. Brian felt a sense of satisfaction, mixed with deep relief, when he saw Hobbs, Sr.'s face. The man was looking all around as he moved swiftly over to the set of four long benches that he had ordered his son to meet him at. His face showed his frustration that all four of them were empty at that moment. Carl quickly relayed the news to the other men that half their target was in place and ordered them to stand by. 

Hobbs, Sr. took a seat in the middle of the benches and looked around. His back was now to Brian and Carl, but the way he stiffly held his body revealed a lot about the anger he was feeling. It seemed obvious that he had expected Chris to be waiting for him when he arrived. He kept glancing from side to side and even rose from his seat a few times to try and see around the thick trees that partially obscured his vision of the pathway from the benches. After ten minutes or so a dishevelled-looking man stumbled his way over to the benches and plopped down unceremoniously right next to Hobbs, Sr. The older man scooted over, but the guy scooted over next to him again. Brian and Carl couldn't hear what was being said, but the stranger had stuck out his hand as if asking for something. Whatever it was, the Detectives saw Hobbs dig into his pants pocket and pull out his wallet. He handed a couple of bills to the stranger and waited. The man patted Hobbs on the shoulder and stumbled off, probably to the nearest liquor store. Hobbs looked relieved to see him leave. 

More time passed. A few more people stopped by the benches, but none stayed very long. A half hour turned into an hour. The detectives had been at the park for nearly six hours by now and they were more than a little tired of waiting. A few of them had even risked taking a leak into the bushes while their partner stood guard so as not to miss their target if he showed up. More than anything, they wanted the son to make his entrance. They probably wanted that even more than the father did, who was now beginning to show agitation like a prom girl stood up by her date. Brian and Carl were beginning to fear that Chris had changed his mind and had already gone on the run. What if he didn't show up at all, they asked each other? They gritted their teeth and decided that they weren't going anywhere. They would wait and see what Hobbs, Sr. did and then follow him if he left, leaving some men behind to still stake out the park. It was a continuing waiting game.

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

Chris came out of the cramped bathroom, cursing for the hundredth time. He grabbed a stiff towel from the bed and wiped his mouth again. At least this time he had only gagged a bit with a tiny amount of phlegm coming up. No wonder, since he had nothing left in his fucking stomach. Of all the damned times for him to get sick, he had muttered to himself as he popped another Pepto into his mouth and chewed it vigorously. He wondered why God hated him so much. Nothing had gone right for him since the day he had decided to take care of Justin Taylor once and for all. Now he had the chance to get out of the Country and start a whole new life and naturally that's when he wakes up in the morning with both the 'runs' and projectile vomiting. His stomach felt like someone had stuck a knife in it and twisted it till his guts were completely entangled. 

Chris had gone out last night. That was his big mistake. He had decided that this was his one last day in the United States for God-knew-how-long and he wanted to say good-bye properly. Heaven knew when he would have a chance to spend any time with a good old American girl again. With that thought in mind, Chris checked around and got the phone number of an escort service that asked no questions as long as you had the cash. He made his call and waited for his girl. She showed up right on time. She wasn't exactly high-priced New York Society quality but she wasn't too bad to look at and would serve her purpose. 

Chris paid upfront and she was his for an hour. Chris was feeling cocky. It was the first sex he had had in ages and he could tell he had satisfied her. She even asked him to call her again if he was in town. It reminded him that he might never be in this town again for the rest of his life. He decided that he would go out and get one more good old-fashioned American meal too before leaving forever. He threw his clothes back on hurriedly and drove off to a diner that he had been to several times since moving to the motel. It wasn't first class, but it was cheap and he had already spent enough on the girl. Chris ate his greasy medium-rare burger and fries smothered in chili and cheese along with a big slab of cheesecake. He washed it all down with a couple of bottles of beer. When he got back to the motel he felt too full, but fine. Then he woke up sicker than a dog. 

Chris had found it almost impossible to keep his eyes open all morning. By the time he had been to the bathroom for the fourth time he was feeling slightly better, but he then fell asleep unexpectedly. When Chris woke up he could tell it was much later than he had meant to sleep. His watch warned him that he was going to be late to meet his old man at the park. He could have called, but he had run out of minutes on his cell and had planned on getting more in the morning. He hadn't had the strength to go out and get them. There was no way he was calling his Dad on the motel phone. He started to get dressed when he felt his stomach flip again. That last visit to the bathroom proved that his stomach was now clear. If he didn't eat or drink anything else for the day, he'd probably be fine by tomorrow. He would also be somewhere else and that was just fine with him. Then he could be sick without the worry about getting caught hanging over his head, making things worse. 

By the time Chris checked out, turned his key in, and drove towards Central Park in his rusty, old vehicle he was already more than an hour late. He wasn't worried. His dad would be royally pissed but he'd be there anyway. Chris knew his dad wanted him to leave almost as much as he wanted to go. He drove out of the motel parking lot and headed East towards his future. First he checked to make sure he had his father's gun tucked safely in his jacket pocket. His dad had ordered him to give it back and he couldn't take it on the plane anyway. He didn't expect to have any need for it where he was going.

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

Brian felt alarmed when he saw Hobbs, Sr. gathering up his briefcase and setting it in his lap. He was afraid the man was giving up on his son. If he left now, they would be back to square one in tracking Chris down. Brian had no desire to return to Justin with news of Chris' escape. If the old man was able to pass the money along to his son before they discovered where the next meeting was, they might lose Chris for good. Just as Brian turned to Carl to voice his concerns, the older man punched him in the arm and pointed to the left. Brian turned his head back towards the benches and saw what Carl was pointing at. A figure was just rounding the trees and moving towards the benches. 

Hobbs, Sr. spotted his son at the very same time. He set the briefcase back down next to him and waited. Carl quietly signalled the other two teams that both targets were now in sight and to stand ready to move in at his command. The air grew thick with tension. Brian wanted to run out and tackle Chris to the ground immediately but common sense and Carl's firm hand on his shoulder held him back. They were both aware that the son probably still had the weapon his father had mentioned in one of their calls. Apparently he had stolen it from his father and the old man wanted it back. There were far fewer people around at the moment than there had been earlier, but folks still could be seen much too close by. They had to move cautiously and altogether. 

Chris took a seat next to his father. The Detectives couldn't make out their conversation but they watched as Chris took his hands out of his jacket pockets and reached for the briefcase his dad was handing over to him. Brian could see the smug look on Chris' face as he looked sideways at his father. There were no hugs. It was time to move in before the two men got any further. Carl clicked on his walkie-talkie. Just as he gave the order to take father and son down, a group of a dozen ladies dressed in matching running sweats and numbered jackets came jogging swiftly around the bend. They were headed straight for the walkway in front of the benches. All of them had on headphones and were staring straight ahead, paying no attention to their surroundings.

Brian and Carl had no choice. The other officers were moving rapidly towards the two men who had just stood up from the bench. The ladies were only a few feet away. If the Detectives pulled back the Hobbs men might still see the other cops and panic. The best bet was to surprise the men from all angles. Suddenly it was too late. For whatever reason, Chris had turned around to face his father and instead spotted Brian and Carl behind him as they broke cover. By the look on his face he recognized Brian instantly. It was a combination of shock, surprise, and anger. He pushed his father away and whirled around, clutching tightly to the briefcase while reaching quickly into his jacket pocket. He ran right into the group of women, scattering them like marbles all around him, tripping up the other Detectives who had reached the group. 

Chris spotted the other men rushing towards him. Instinct told him they were cops too. Panic set in. He pulled his gun out and waved it in the air. The ladies screamed. Brian and Carl's voice could be heard over their shrieking as they ordered the women to get down. Chris' training as a Quarterback on the football field came into play. He swerved off to the left and sprinted away. He could still move fast despite his long months of little exercise. Brian and Carl gave chase, Carl falling further and further behind as his age caught up with him and he became winded. Brian was in hot pursuit. The other Detectives remained behind to call in the chase and clamp the cuffs on Hobbs, Sr., who suddenly looked twenty years older as the Officers read him his rights and tried to calm down the shocked women.

Chris ran for his life, followed by his worst enemy. He knew it was all over for him if Officer Kinney caught up to him. Chris didn't know Central Park as well as his dad did, but he knew the street was in the general direction he was running. He climbed one small knoll after another, passing a few people here and there. He seldom risked glancing back to see where Kinney was. His only goal was to escape and reach the street. He could find somewhere to hide there until it was safe to grab a cab and use the money and false passport to get out of town. He would take the cab back to his car and get his things. He doubted if the police knew about his car or they would have captured him a long time ago. They had followed his old man. That had to be the way they found him. It was the only thing that made sense.

Brian was surprised at how swiftly Hobbs was moving. He wasn't out of shape himself, but he couldn't seem to get any closer with each passing yard they ran. Of course, abject fear was a great motivator for Hobbs. Finally they could hear the sound of traffic in the distance. Chris' adrenaline kicked in at the sound and he ran even faster. Luckily for Brian, the same thing happened. His speed matched Chris', but it wouldn't be enough to stop the kid before he got to the street. 

Brian cursed as he saw Chris burst out of an exit from the park and onto the street. Moments later, Brian ran out of the same exit. The street was filled with cars and taxis. Buildings were lined up across the street with alleyways between them. Brian turned from left to right trying to gauge which way to run. That's when he spotted a man sitting on the sidewalk in front of an alleyway between two large shops a few yards away. He was cursing out loud and yelling down the alleyway at some invisible foe. Brian gauged traffic and sprinted across the street between honking cars. He ran to the squatting man who was just getting up. 

"What happened?" he asked the man breathlessly, as he helped him stand up. 

"Some asshole just ran me down and didn't even apologize. He went running down that alley like the devil himself was pursuing him. Hope Lucifer catches him too, the jerk," he muttered out loud.

"Thanks," Brian responded.

He turned to the alley and moved down it cautiously, remembering that Hobbs had a weapon. It was a long alley that came to a dead end. If Chris had run down this one, he had nowhere to go unless he climbed upwards to a roof or was able to get in one of the several doors Brian saw along both sides of the buildings. Brian drew his gun from its holster and stayed tightly against the wall as he moved down the alley. He checked each door as he reached them. They were all locked. If Hobbs had gone through one of them, he locked it behind himself. There were a couple of fire escape ladders but none were down. They were really too high to reach without help. Brian doubted if his target had gone upwards. Large municipal trash cans lined up on both sides of the alley. If Chris was anywhere it would be around them.

Brian had gotten to the third of the four sets of trash cans when he heard a faint noise coming from the last set of cans. His head whipped around and his gun went up, ready to take aim. He started to move towards the last set of cans when the lid suddenly flew up on the nearest one and Chris' head popped up like a mad jack-in-the-box. He had his gun out and pointed towards Brian. Brian ordered him to drop his weapon but Chris' gun went off. The bullet flew past Brian, missing his face by inches. Brian could feel the air move as the bullet passed him by. He didn't wait for Chris to get off a second shot. He fired his own weapon, this time the bullet finding its mark. 

Chris let out a scream. The bullet tore through his arm and he dropped his gun to the ground. He sank back into the trash he had hidden in. Red began to stain the filthy papers and discarded food that filled the can as blood escaped from the two holes in the front and back of Chris' arm. Brian ran over to the can and stepped up on a discarded box in front of the can in order to peer down into it. He trained his gun on Chris' chest. The pathetic kid was whimpering like a baby and muttering how Brian had hurt him. 

Brian's vision began to blur and all he could see was red with the image of Justin's bleeding body in the center of it. His trigger finger tensed as he held the gun steady on Chris' cowering body. He longed to pull the trigger. It was as real to him as breathing. Chris could see it in Brian's eyes. Fear jabbed at him like a red-hot poker. He started whining...begging Brian not to shoot him. 

Brian couldn't hear him at first through the roaring in his ears, but the man's pathetic whine slowly pushed through the haze. A sudden calm came over Brian. He could hear Justin calling to him....telling him to hurry home, he missed him. Brian realized that if he killed Hobbs, he would be no better than the punk and he would never be able to face Justin again....not to mention that he might not get away with it and then he would lose Justin for good. He lowered his gun and stepped down, kicking Hobbs' gun to the side of the alley. He ordered Chris to stand up and get out of the can.

Chris did what he was told, grasping his injured arm with his good one. He stood in front of Brian, his head down. Brian could hear Carl running up behind him, shouting his name. The poor man came huffing and puffing behind Brian and patted his partner on the back.

"Good job, Kinney," he declared while gasping for air. "I see he gave you a little trouble. I presume he shot first."

Brian pointed to the gun nearby. "Yes Sir, but apparently he isn't as good with a gun as he is with a baseball bat or tire iron."

The sound of police cars could be heard as they approached the alleyway. 

"He shot me without warning," Chris wailed. "Not only that, he was going to shoot me again and I wasn't even armed. He only stopped because he heard you coming. He would have killed me in cold blood without even giving me a chance to defend myself."

"You mean the way you attacked your victims without warning and no chance to defend themselves. And for what crime....because they happen to prefer fucking men instead of women, you perverted son-of-a-bitch!"

"You're the perverted one," Chris whined. "I've seen you and Taylor together....you two hanging all over each other, kissing and worse. It's not natural. You two are the sick ones."

"You know, kid, I'd almost pity you if you knew anything about love but I doubt if you've ever had any or felt any in your entire life. A sick puppy like you will never understand love of any kind, let alone the kind that men like Justin and I feel for each other," Brian told him.

Brian's voice went down on octave just as the cops came down the alleyway to help with the arrest.

"You'll never know the love of two men, but you'll know the physical side of it once you're locked up tight. I can promise you that. They love fresh meat where you're going," Brian warned under his breath.

Other officers had reached the trio and taken custody of Chris, ushering him back down the alley and to a waiting car. He could see his father in the back seat, handcuffs around his wrists. He felt a momentary satisfaction. At least he wouldn't be the only Hobbs with his name in the paper in the morning. 

Carl threw his arm around Brian's shoulder.

"Ready to go home, partner?" he asked. "We have a couple of loved ones waiting for us and I think they've waited long enough. Don't you?"

Brian smiled the first genuine smile of the day. Yes indeed, he had a loved one waiting for him and he could hardly wait to tell him all about his adventures in New York City. Maybe he would even suggest a kind of honeymoon for the two of them in the Big Apple.

To be continued.......................