Page 49 of Finders Keepers
His body ached with the kind of fatigue that went deeper than tired. Bone-deep. Soul-weary. And he hadn’t even tackled the cleaning yet. Or the issue of the thumb drive.
The soup bubbled. He stirred it mechanically. He’d just ladled some into a chipped bowl when a heavy slam rattled the back door.
He whirled around. The door swung open, crashed against the wall, and bounced back.
Two guys in all black, wearing balaclavas, came at him.
“Knew you’d show up sooner or later, you faggot,” one snarled. “All it took was threatening your sugar daddy.”
Wesley froze like a sighted hare.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Then his heart stampeded like a herd of third graders during recess and leapt into his throat. He swallowed hard. The lump stayed.
“I’ll give you one last chance to hand it over, otherwise—”
Wesley held up his hands. “I s-swear—I have no idea what you’re t-talking about.”
“So you say.”
The other guy lunged and wrenched Wesley’s arms behind his back, gripping his elbows. Hard.
Wesley tried to haul in air, but between the gourd in his throat and his swelling nasal cavity, he couldn’t. He panted. Tried to count.
“Let me refresh your memory.”
Wesley’s arms were yanked harder. His shoulders screamed. He panted through the pain.
“That fuckin’ faggot club. Two months ago. Someone put a thumb drive in the little pocket on the strap of your backpack. We watched security footage. You picked up the backpack andleft. You were supposed to deliver the thumb drive to someone, but that someone says he never got it. We’re here to get it. Now, where the fuck is it?”
“If I-I had it, I’d give it to you. I s-swear to God.”
“Well, I don’t believe in God.”
A meaty fist drove into Wesley’s stomach. Once, twice. Heat exploded in his gut. His breath rushed from his lungs, and he gasped for air. Tried to groan through it, but he didn’t have anything in his lungs to make a sound.
He took another blow to the chest. Then another. He gulped in air only to choke on it. His throat constricted, and pain rolled from his neck to his gut.
The same fist connected with his face. Blinding white heat stabbed his skull, and his eyes scrunched closed. A hit to the other side of his head sent a shockwave of agony all the way to his toes and buckled his knees.
Wesley hit the floor with a thud and his head caromed off the bottom corner of the tv cabinet. Cannon fire reverberated in his head with each heartbeat.
A boot connected with his kidney, fire suffused his lower back, and he cried out. Another kick. Another hoarse scream. Wesley curled up, but pain lanced through him with every heaving breath.
Banging on the front door halted the onslaught.
“Wesley, you in there?”
Officer Bennett. Help!
He didn’t have the breath to call out, but willed the man to come in, whatever might compel him to do so.
“Wesley, I know you’re supposed to be home. Answer me or I’m breaking down this door.”
The goons bolted for the back door. Crashing through the house like elephants. His head throbbed.
“Stand back!”
