Fic: The Kept Man (6/40), brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kept Man (6/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2414 this part; [10,637 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04,1.05
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: From an idea from
talcat given via
culf. Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
The gaze was piercing, cold. Harsher than anything he could have imagined.
“You disappoint me, Samuel.”
He didn’t want to be scared of this man. Some little part of him that had yet to be conditioned, maybe the hidden part that was holding his memories, told him to stand up to Warren, to refuse him and face the consequences.
“That’s twice now you’ve erred on the simplest of errands.”
He should be more like Hunt. Set boundaries. Not give completely into this cancerous man. Find his inner DCI, as it were.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Warren.”
“You think your words mean anything to me, boy?”
He wasn’t a boy. He was a man, a grown man, just like Warren.
“After the way you’ve been behaving lately? It’s almost as if you want to leave me.”
But that was just a tiny part of who he was now. The rest of him knew it was a foolish notion. If he wanted to live he needed to appease Warren, at least for now, and survival was still the strongest instinct he possessed.
“No, sir. I would never, sir.”
“Oh, really?”
“You’ll have to sell it, Sam. Really sell it.”
“I would’ve done anything he asked, Mr. Warren. For you. I’d do anything for you.”
Warren stared at him oddly, forcing back a grin as Sam knew he was wondering how far he could actually push the boy in front of him. Suddenly, the space between them was closed and Warren backhanded Sam across the face. Sam remained still as blood trickled from his lip.
“Bruises can heal, Tyler.”
“I told you your words mean nothing to me, Samuel. You’ll have to prove yourself. And until I think of something satisfactory...” Warren snapped his fingers and Edwards came forward, wasting no time in punching Sam in the gut. Sam doubled over in pain but was able to remain on his feet. “You and Charlie are going to have a little chat. Not the face, Mr. Edwards. Not the face.” Warren reminded before leaving his lapdog and his rent boy alone in the office.
“So sorry about this mate. But you should really learn to follow orders,” Edwards smiled and Sam braced himself as hard fists pummeled him to the ground, where Charlie’s pointed boots took over.
Bruises can heal, Tyler. Bruises can heal, Tyler. Bruises can heal. Beep. Bruises can heal. Beep. Beep. Did you not see the signs? Do you remember what happened, sir? Beep. Beep. You’re breaking up. Beep. Beep. No! Maya, no! Listen, I’ll send back-up. Beep. Beep.
Sam didn’t know when he started crying but suddenly Warren was kneeling beside him, stroking his hair and cooing to him softly.
“Oh my boy,” he sighed. “My gorgeous boy. You’ll listen to me now, won’t you?”
Sam was in too much pain to form words but he gurgled something that could have been taken for a “yes.”
“Shh, shh, love,” Warren continued to pet his damp face. “You can have tonight off. Get a good night’s rest. After that,” Warren leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I want you waiting in my bed every night. I know better than to you sell you now, Sam. You’re too loyal for that, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Don’t worry, pet. I’ll never do it again.”
Warren’s hand was gone and Sam could hear him rising to his feet.
“Take him back to his room.”
Sam was moved, by Edwards he presumed, and cried out as his the large man jostled his injured chest.
“Gently,” Warren snarled.
He must have passed out since he woke when he was carelessly dropped on his bed and left there. He felt sick. Not from the beating, not from what lie in store for him in the nights to come. No, it was so much worse than that.
It was when Warren spoke gently, his lilting accent soothing Sam’s cracked brain, Sam had actually believed him. Even though he knew it was a lie, he wanted to believe Warren, and that was the worst betrayal of all, those lies he told himself. He felt so sick from it all and didn’t know how much longer he could take it.
He rolled over and retched over the side of the bed, grateful that he hadn’t eaten today.
*
“Evening, Hunt. Word as it that you’ve needed to borrow a WPC in order to finish your cases. Maybe I could send you one of my officers to help with your apparently overwhelming workload?” Litton smirked as Gene passed him in the hall, Chris and Ray in tow.
“Sorry, Litton. One girl in CID’s enough for me,” Gene replied without even stopping. It was beer o’clock and after the day he had, securing the evidence to arrest Robby Briggs of the unfortunate assault of a visiting businessman (who has currently in a coma), working through the mountains of paperwork that didn’t seem to be decreasing despite the fact is officers had pens practically glued to his fingers, and ignoring inappropriate thoughts concerning a man he should most definitely not be having inappropriate thoughts about for more than one reason, well, needless to say, Gene Hunt could use a drink and he wasn’t going to let a little tosser like DCI Litton get in the way of that.
At some point during the day it had started Raining and Gene hurried down the slick steps to his waiting Cortina, Ray and Chris still following behind.
“Guv!” Ray called out as Gene opened the driver’s side door, spotting something out of the corner of his eye. “I was, er, hopin’ I could talk to you, ‘bout the DI post?”
Gene wasn’t paying attention as he watched the figure disappear around a corner. “Yeah, Ray. Later. I’ll meet yeh down at the pub. Got summit I need to take care of first.” Gene hopped into his car.
“Sure, Guv. See yeh there, then.”
Gene noticed Ray’s disappointment but hadn’t the time to worry about it as he shut the door and pulled away form the station. He only had to drive a block to find who he was looking for, the man completely soaked from the continuous rainfall, arms hugged around his chest for warmth. Gene reached over and rolled down the passenger’s side window.
“I want out,” Sam said before Gene could ask him anything.
“Get in.”
Tyler looked around nervously before obeying. “I--” he started but Gene cut him off.
“Let’s get you somewhere warm. Then we’ll talk.”
Sam nodded and buckled his seat belt as Gene peeled away before anyone could spot them. They drove in complete silence until Gene finally parked in the back lot of some rundown council estate. For the first time since Sam had got in the car, Gene looked at him.
“You don’t look so good.”
Sam turned to him in disbelief. “Who taught you to drive? Starsky and Hutch?”
“Who?”
“It’s a television program.”
“Never heard of it. Now c’mon. Let’s get inside ‘fore we get noticed.”
Sam followed Gene, limping slightly as they made their way into the desolate building. Surprised that the lift was actually working for once, Gene took Sam to the fourth floor, then led him into a sparsely furnished flat.
“What is this place?”
“Missus throws me out every once in awhile. Got tired of kippin’ at the station all the time.”
“So which is it?”
“Which is what?”
“Every once in awhile or all the time?”
Gene rolled his eyes. “You’re too cheeky for your own good. Now sit down before you pass out.”
“I’m not going to pass out,” Sam argued but nearly fell onto the bed instead of properly sitting down, hissing in pain as he hit the lumpy mattress.
“Not just my driving then, is it?” Gene shed his coat, dropping it on the nearby armchair and sat next to Sam on the bed.
“I told you he’d be furious,” Sam continued to wince as he struggled to take off his own, wet jacket.
“But did he believe you?”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Yeah, he believed me.”
“Good. Let me help.” Gene reached out and carefully slid the leather jacket off the pained man’s body and tossed it behind them as Sam began rubbing his tender ribs. “Want me to take a look?”
“I think usually I’m supposed to charge for that sort of thing,” Sam smirked but started unbuttoning his shirt. It didn’t take long until his chest was fully exposed, revealing the numerous purple bruises and red cuts that previously been hidden.
“Bloody hell,” Gene muttered and instinctively began running his fingers lightly over the ugly marks.
“Edwards takes his work very seriously,” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and leaning, ever so slightly, into the touch.
“That bastard,” Gene growled.
“Bruises can heal, right?”
Gene knew it had been his own way of comforting Sam but seeing those bruises now, the words seemed hollow.
“I don’t get you, Tyler.” Gene’s fingers were still tracing soft patterns over the damaged skin. “You seem like a decent enough bloke. Good health, not a user. Seem smart enough. Even with amnesia, how’d you end up Warren?”
Sam looked away and shrunk back from Gene’s touch. “Can we just worry about how I’m going to get away from him?”
“It would be easier if I knew the whole story.”
“If I think it’s relevant, I’ll let you know,” Sam snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. “Please. You’re the only one...Warren’s girls are kind to me. May consider themselves my friends, but, I can’t trust them.”
“What makes me so different?”
“I’ve seen you, the way you speak to him. You’re...I think you’re the only person who hates him as much as I do.” Sam leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. “I need to get out. Somehow. I can’t...I feel like I’m losing myself. I already don’t know who I am and I still feel like I’m losing myself.”
Gene began to rub circles over Sam’s back, trying to soothe him, show him some kindness. Sam looked up, eyes locked on Gene’s and leaned in and again Gene didn’t know how it happened, who started it, but they were kissing, more passionately this time. Gene breached Sam’s willing mouth with his own tongue, brushing over his teeth, probing inside, and Sam was doing the same. When he felt the tender hand on his crotch, that’s when Gene had to pull away.
“We can’t,” Gene panted catching his breath and removing Sam’s hand.
“He’d kill me,” Sam agreed.
“Or worse,” Gene nodded.
“Warren doesn’t like to share,” Sam unnecessarily explained.
“Unless it’s on his terms.”
“And most definitely not with a copper.”
They looked at each other.
“Fuck Warren,” Gene growled.
“Already do,” Sam answered with a smirk and their mouths were entwined once more. Still, when Sam’s hand began to reach into Gene’s trousers, Gene pulled him back.
“I think you have to give enough, Sammy-boy,” Gene whispered and found himself reaching for Sam’s zip. Tyler moaned into Gene’s mouth as his cock was released, and cried out in pleasure as the firm, but gentle hand was wrapped around him, and Gene realized this was so much better. So much better than when he was in National Service, where everyone always denied it after. So much better than in the Police Academy, where you had to keep quiet or risk being caught and kicked out. So much better than having to drive so far, where no one recognized him, and pay someone younger than Sam so he could finally release all the tension inside him.
Sam continued to gasp and kiss as Gene tugged at him, trying various paces, different movements of his fingers, trying to find what Sam liked most. Gene hit a steady pace and Sam started bucking his hips, moaning deeply as Gene ran his thumb over the head and pressed into the slit. Soon, Sam was too out of breath to continue the kiss and rested his forehead against Gene’s as he came closer and closer to the breaking point. Gene said nothing as he continued to wank him off, not knowing what Warren would say to him and not wanting the bastard to taint any of this.
It didn’t take much longer and Sam came hard into Gene’s hand, with harsh cry as the constricting muscles put pressure on the fresh bruises.
“Shit,” Sam sighed as his brain began to function again. “Shit, what time is it?”
Gene reluctantly checked his watch. “Nearly six.”
“Shit,” Sam pulled back. “I have to go. I need to get back,” he slowly began to tuck himself away. “I’ll have to change clothes, shower. If he even thinks, when he takes me tonight...”
“Lads are waitin’ for me down at the pub,” Gene found a hanky and cleaned off his hand. “Ask too many stupid questions if I don’t turn up.”
Sam slipped his shirt back on, arms and back obviously sore. “Does this mean you’ll help me?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gene grabbed his coat, suddenly wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He’d screwed with Warren before but this? This was getting too dangerous. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. What do you normally do Saturday mornings?”
“Eat breakfast. Get a shower. Suck off Warren. Get some groceries.” Sam put on his jacket.
“Meet me here at eleven. We’ll see if maybe we can’t find a way to get you out of that club that won’t end with your body floatin’ face down in the canal.”
“Charming image, that. Thanks. Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” Gene nodded with confirmation and watched as Sam hobbled out of the flat, shutting the door behind him. It took Gene another few minutes to compose himself. Whatever was happening here, he knew it wouldn’t end well. Knew it couldn’t end well. How could it? Even if by some miracle he did manage to get Tyler safely away, he wouldn’t be able to stay in Manchester. It would be too dangerous for him. For both of them.
Gene knew, in his gut, that the key to all this was locked somewhere in that boy’s brain. If Gene could get him to remember who he was, then they could figure out what to do with him. Finally shrugging on his coat and walking to the door, there was only one thought on Gene’s mind. Just who the fuck was Sam Tyler?
________
Part 7
Author: dak
Word Count: 2414 this part; [10,637 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04,1.05
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: From an idea from
talcat given via
culf. Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
The gaze was piercing, cold. Harsher than anything he could have imagined.
“You disappoint me, Samuel.”
He didn’t want to be scared of this man. Some little part of him that had yet to be conditioned, maybe the hidden part that was holding his memories, told him to stand up to Warren, to refuse him and face the consequences.
“That’s twice now you’ve erred on the simplest of errands.”
He should be more like Hunt. Set boundaries. Not give completely into this cancerous man. Find his inner DCI, as it were.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Warren.”
“You think your words mean anything to me, boy?”
He wasn’t a boy. He was a man, a grown man, just like Warren.
“After the way you’ve been behaving lately? It’s almost as if you want to leave me.”
But that was just a tiny part of who he was now. The rest of him knew it was a foolish notion. If he wanted to live he needed to appease Warren, at least for now, and survival was still the strongest instinct he possessed.
“No, sir. I would never, sir.”
“Oh, really?”
“You’ll have to sell it, Sam. Really sell it.”
“I would’ve done anything he asked, Mr. Warren. For you. I’d do anything for you.”
Warren stared at him oddly, forcing back a grin as Sam knew he was wondering how far he could actually push the boy in front of him. Suddenly, the space between them was closed and Warren backhanded Sam across the face. Sam remained still as blood trickled from his lip.
“Bruises can heal, Tyler.”
“I told you your words mean nothing to me, Samuel. You’ll have to prove yourself. And until I think of something satisfactory...” Warren snapped his fingers and Edwards came forward, wasting no time in punching Sam in the gut. Sam doubled over in pain but was able to remain on his feet. “You and Charlie are going to have a little chat. Not the face, Mr. Edwards. Not the face.” Warren reminded before leaving his lapdog and his rent boy alone in the office.
“So sorry about this mate. But you should really learn to follow orders,” Edwards smiled and Sam braced himself as hard fists pummeled him to the ground, where Charlie’s pointed boots took over.
Bruises can heal, Tyler. Bruises can heal, Tyler. Bruises can heal. Beep. Bruises can heal. Beep. Beep. Did you not see the signs? Do you remember what happened, sir? Beep. Beep. You’re breaking up. Beep. Beep. No! Maya, no! Listen, I’ll send back-up. Beep. Beep.
Sam didn’t know when he started crying but suddenly Warren was kneeling beside him, stroking his hair and cooing to him softly.
“Oh my boy,” he sighed. “My gorgeous boy. You’ll listen to me now, won’t you?”
Sam was in too much pain to form words but he gurgled something that could have been taken for a “yes.”
“Shh, shh, love,” Warren continued to pet his damp face. “You can have tonight off. Get a good night’s rest. After that,” Warren leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I want you waiting in my bed every night. I know better than to you sell you now, Sam. You’re too loyal for that, aren’t you? Don’t worry. Don’t worry, pet. I’ll never do it again.”
Warren’s hand was gone and Sam could hear him rising to his feet.
“Take him back to his room.”
Sam was moved, by Edwards he presumed, and cried out as his the large man jostled his injured chest.
“Gently,” Warren snarled.
He must have passed out since he woke when he was carelessly dropped on his bed and left there. He felt sick. Not from the beating, not from what lie in store for him in the nights to come. No, it was so much worse than that.
It was when Warren spoke gently, his lilting accent soothing Sam’s cracked brain, Sam had actually believed him. Even though he knew it was a lie, he wanted to believe Warren, and that was the worst betrayal of all, those lies he told himself. He felt so sick from it all and didn’t know how much longer he could take it.
He rolled over and retched over the side of the bed, grateful that he hadn’t eaten today.
*
“Evening, Hunt. Word as it that you’ve needed to borrow a WPC in order to finish your cases. Maybe I could send you one of my officers to help with your apparently overwhelming workload?” Litton smirked as Gene passed him in the hall, Chris and Ray in tow.
“Sorry, Litton. One girl in CID’s enough for me,” Gene replied without even stopping. It was beer o’clock and after the day he had, securing the evidence to arrest Robby Briggs of the unfortunate assault of a visiting businessman (who has currently in a coma), working through the mountains of paperwork that didn’t seem to be decreasing despite the fact is officers had pens practically glued to his fingers, and ignoring inappropriate thoughts concerning a man he should most definitely not be having inappropriate thoughts about for more than one reason, well, needless to say, Gene Hunt could use a drink and he wasn’t going to let a little tosser like DCI Litton get in the way of that.
At some point during the day it had started Raining and Gene hurried down the slick steps to his waiting Cortina, Ray and Chris still following behind.
“Guv!” Ray called out as Gene opened the driver’s side door, spotting something out of the corner of his eye. “I was, er, hopin’ I could talk to you, ‘bout the DI post?”
Gene wasn’t paying attention as he watched the figure disappear around a corner. “Yeah, Ray. Later. I’ll meet yeh down at the pub. Got summit I need to take care of first.” Gene hopped into his car.
“Sure, Guv. See yeh there, then.”
Gene noticed Ray’s disappointment but hadn’t the time to worry about it as he shut the door and pulled away form the station. He only had to drive a block to find who he was looking for, the man completely soaked from the continuous rainfall, arms hugged around his chest for warmth. Gene reached over and rolled down the passenger’s side window.
“I want out,” Sam said before Gene could ask him anything.
“Get in.”
Tyler looked around nervously before obeying. “I--” he started but Gene cut him off.
“Let’s get you somewhere warm. Then we’ll talk.”
Sam nodded and buckled his seat belt as Gene peeled away before anyone could spot them. They drove in complete silence until Gene finally parked in the back lot of some rundown council estate. For the first time since Sam had got in the car, Gene looked at him.
“You don’t look so good.”
Sam turned to him in disbelief. “Who taught you to drive? Starsky and Hutch?”
“Who?”
“It’s a television program.”
“Never heard of it. Now c’mon. Let’s get inside ‘fore we get noticed.”
Sam followed Gene, limping slightly as they made their way into the desolate building. Surprised that the lift was actually working for once, Gene took Sam to the fourth floor, then led him into a sparsely furnished flat.
“What is this place?”
“Missus throws me out every once in awhile. Got tired of kippin’ at the station all the time.”
“So which is it?”
“Which is what?”
“Every once in awhile or all the time?”
Gene rolled his eyes. “You’re too cheeky for your own good. Now sit down before you pass out.”
“I’m not going to pass out,” Sam argued but nearly fell onto the bed instead of properly sitting down, hissing in pain as he hit the lumpy mattress.
“Not just my driving then, is it?” Gene shed his coat, dropping it on the nearby armchair and sat next to Sam on the bed.
“I told you he’d be furious,” Sam continued to wince as he struggled to take off his own, wet jacket.
“But did he believe you?”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Yeah, he believed me.”
“Good. Let me help.” Gene reached out and carefully slid the leather jacket off the pained man’s body and tossed it behind them as Sam began rubbing his tender ribs. “Want me to take a look?”
“I think usually I’m supposed to charge for that sort of thing,” Sam smirked but started unbuttoning his shirt. It didn’t take long until his chest was fully exposed, revealing the numerous purple bruises and red cuts that previously been hidden.
“Bloody hell,” Gene muttered and instinctively began running his fingers lightly over the ugly marks.
“Edwards takes his work very seriously,” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and leaning, ever so slightly, into the touch.
“That bastard,” Gene growled.
“Bruises can heal, right?”
Gene knew it had been his own way of comforting Sam but seeing those bruises now, the words seemed hollow.
“I don’t get you, Tyler.” Gene’s fingers were still tracing soft patterns over the damaged skin. “You seem like a decent enough bloke. Good health, not a user. Seem smart enough. Even with amnesia, how’d you end up Warren?”
Sam looked away and shrunk back from Gene’s touch. “Can we just worry about how I’m going to get away from him?”
“It would be easier if I knew the whole story.”
“If I think it’s relevant, I’ll let you know,” Sam snapped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. “Please. You’re the only one...Warren’s girls are kind to me. May consider themselves my friends, but, I can’t trust them.”
“What makes me so different?”
“I’ve seen you, the way you speak to him. You’re...I think you’re the only person who hates him as much as I do.” Sam leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. “I need to get out. Somehow. I can’t...I feel like I’m losing myself. I already don’t know who I am and I still feel like I’m losing myself.”
Gene began to rub circles over Sam’s back, trying to soothe him, show him some kindness. Sam looked up, eyes locked on Gene’s and leaned in and again Gene didn’t know how it happened, who started it, but they were kissing, more passionately this time. Gene breached Sam’s willing mouth with his own tongue, brushing over his teeth, probing inside, and Sam was doing the same. When he felt the tender hand on his crotch, that’s when Gene had to pull away.
“We can’t,” Gene panted catching his breath and removing Sam’s hand.
“He’d kill me,” Sam agreed.
“Or worse,” Gene nodded.
“Warren doesn’t like to share,” Sam unnecessarily explained.
“Unless it’s on his terms.”
“And most definitely not with a copper.”
They looked at each other.
“Fuck Warren,” Gene growled.
“Already do,” Sam answered with a smirk and their mouths were entwined once more. Still, when Sam’s hand began to reach into Gene’s trousers, Gene pulled him back.
“I think you have to give enough, Sammy-boy,” Gene whispered and found himself reaching for Sam’s zip. Tyler moaned into Gene’s mouth as his cock was released, and cried out in pleasure as the firm, but gentle hand was wrapped around him, and Gene realized this was so much better. So much better than when he was in National Service, where everyone always denied it after. So much better than in the Police Academy, where you had to keep quiet or risk being caught and kicked out. So much better than having to drive so far, where no one recognized him, and pay someone younger than Sam so he could finally release all the tension inside him.
Sam continued to gasp and kiss as Gene tugged at him, trying various paces, different movements of his fingers, trying to find what Sam liked most. Gene hit a steady pace and Sam started bucking his hips, moaning deeply as Gene ran his thumb over the head and pressed into the slit. Soon, Sam was too out of breath to continue the kiss and rested his forehead against Gene’s as he came closer and closer to the breaking point. Gene said nothing as he continued to wank him off, not knowing what Warren would say to him and not wanting the bastard to taint any of this.
It didn’t take much longer and Sam came hard into Gene’s hand, with harsh cry as the constricting muscles put pressure on the fresh bruises.
“Shit,” Sam sighed as his brain began to function again. “Shit, what time is it?”
Gene reluctantly checked his watch. “Nearly six.”
“Shit,” Sam pulled back. “I have to go. I need to get back,” he slowly began to tuck himself away. “I’ll have to change clothes, shower. If he even thinks, when he takes me tonight...”
“Lads are waitin’ for me down at the pub,” Gene found a hanky and cleaned off his hand. “Ask too many stupid questions if I don’t turn up.”
Sam slipped his shirt back on, arms and back obviously sore. “Does this mean you’ll help me?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gene grabbed his coat, suddenly wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. He’d screwed with Warren before but this? This was getting too dangerous. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. What do you normally do Saturday mornings?”
“Eat breakfast. Get a shower. Suck off Warren. Get some groceries.” Sam put on his jacket.
“Meet me here at eleven. We’ll see if maybe we can’t find a way to get you out of that club that won’t end with your body floatin’ face down in the canal.”
“Charming image, that. Thanks. Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” Gene nodded with confirmation and watched as Sam hobbled out of the flat, shutting the door behind him. It took Gene another few minutes to compose himself. Whatever was happening here, he knew it wouldn’t end well. Knew it couldn’t end well. How could it? Even if by some miracle he did manage to get Tyler safely away, he wouldn’t be able to stay in Manchester. It would be too dangerous for him. For both of them.
Gene knew, in his gut, that the key to all this was locked somewhere in that boy’s brain. If Gene could get him to remember who he was, then they could figure out what to do with him. Finally shrugging on his coat and walking to the door, there was only one thought on Gene’s mind. Just who the fuck was Sam Tyler?
________
Part 7