Rip smiled then, and it was pretty — almost charming. Joe hated it. He had a sick feeling about where they were headed.
“I don’t discuss price until I know what my customer has.”
“And I don’t show what I have until we discuss price.”
“I wonder if you need the nano more, or I need the money more.” Rip raised his eyebrows and waited.
This wasn’t a battle Joe could win. However much Rip might need money, he was right: Joe needed the nanotech more. He wasn’t leaving here without it.
He stuck his hand into the alcove. A red light scanned his inner wrist. The display above the chip reader told the tale: five years’ worth of earnings at Flights of Fantasy, minus only the money he’d used to help buy Sadie’s glasses and the cup he’d bought Aria at the Maze-On store. Five years of running, of sucking off and getting fucked by anyone who had enough money to pay Boggs. The sum of his life in five digits.
“Seventy-five thou,” Rip said. “Cutting it close. Should have had daddy fill up the coffers a bit more before you went on your adventure. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous. It’ll cost you everything, but you’re making out ahead.”
Almost all the air whooshed out of Joe’s lungs. He scraped together enough breath to whisper, “Everything?”
Rip chucked him on the shoulder. “I don’t haggle. Don’t look so sad, pumpkin. You’ll get your friend patched up, head on home, and tell all your buddies about the epic time some low-life druggie hustled you for all your pocket change.”
Except it wasn’t pocket change. It was everything. Every fuck, every calculation, every cruel choice. All the times he’d been spat on, slapped, beaten. Raped. His ticket out of Austin and into Minneapolis. His father. His future.
He peeked around Rip and found Peter watching him. Boss, Peter called him. Warrior brother, he and Flix had sworn. Protector. Lover.
Nuevecito. Brand-new, Navarro had always called him. Joe didn’t feel very brand-new anymore.
What would he do for Devin?
Anything.
“Show me the nanokit first.”
Rip smiled. “God, I like you.” He climbed onto a stepladder and pulled down a white box sealed in shrink wrap, then handed it to Joe. “Go ahead. Make sure you’re getting your money’s worth.”
Joe peeled away the wrapping and opened the box. Inside, he found a tablet with a tiny solar panel. He turned it on. While he waited for the tablet to boot, he examined the rest of the kit. Three single-use syringes, factory-wrapped in tamper-proof packaging. Alcohol swabs. A bottle of capsules, clearly labeled and sealed. Three small glass vials of amber liquid. Joe turned his attention back to the tablet and found it in good working order with a full charge. He shut it down, re-boxed everything, and closed his eyes.
This wasn’t the man he’d planned to be. But those plans had fallen apart almost as soon as his father had left. For nine years, he’d done what he had to. This was the man he’d become.
He walked over to the chip reader and thrust his wrist back under the red light. With the tapping of a few buttons, Joe’s bank balance dropped to zero.
***
Joe exhaled, let it all out, and gave himself a moment to absorb the shock. His fingers and toes felt numb, but his heart thumped wildly. Scary, yes. But right. He’d always believed he would give up everything for Devin, and now that he’d proved it, he could get on with his life. He turned to walk to the elevator but was stopped by a hand on his forearm.
“Tax,” Rip said.
“Excuse me?”
“I forgot the tax.”
“Too bad.” Joe pulled his arm free and motioned for Peter to start moving toward the exit.
Two hands grabbed and held him this time. “’Fraid not, sugar baby. The government always takes their due, and I gotta have something to pay them.”
“I have three thousand.” Peter looked at Joe apologetically. “I had just spent all my allowance on Fierce Force Twelve.”
“That game sucks, dude,” Rip said. “I need eight.”
“Well, three’s all I have!”
“Or...”
And here they arrived. Where they had always been headed. Joe sighed.
“Or what?” Peter asked.
Belton snickered. His hand was already twiddling in his pocket.
“Or,” Rip continued, “we can make alternate arrangements. You like dick, kid?”
“Leave him alone,” Joe said, hating the scared, almost frantic look on Peter’s face. “All you had to do was ask.”
Rip moved around in front of Joe, blocking him from the view of Peter and Belton. “I asked on the elevator.”
“Not for business.”
Rip smiled again, that charming, good-boy smile. “True. God, I want your mouth. I want to take you to bed and kiss you and fuck you.” Rip eyed Joe’s lips. His chest. His groin. “You’re practically vibrating with it, you know? So ready.” He met Joe’s eyes again. “But my buddy back there doesn’t swing with us unless he’s desperate, and he may be dumb as an ox but he’d catch on if I did to you what I really want. So on your knees. You can do him after me, and we’ll leave the kid alone. I was just bluffing with him anyway.”
Joe believed him, but he didn’t care. Rip may not be the kind of guy who’d force a kid, but he didn’t seem to have any problems forcing Joe. “Here, Peter. Take the rifle. Go look on those shelves, see if there’s any more medicine we can use.”
“But...” Peter accepted the rifle and the nanokit, then stood there.
“It’s okay.” Joe smiled at him, made it genuine. “Go on. Stay over there, and I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.”
Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually he dropped his chin to his chest and walked away.
Joe dropped to his knees and freed Rip’s dick from his zipper. At least Rip was physically clean. Clean of diseases? Joe hoped that all those immunizations he’d gotten at Flights of Fantasy hadn’t worn away.
God, he’d sworn to himself he’d never
