Chapter One
The door of the Pad opened with a creak, admitting four tired, stumbling figures. Their red shirts were stained dark red with sweat, and blond and brown hair hung in sweaty strands on four creased foreheads.
“Man,” Mike said, pulling his hat off. He winced at the feeling of wet wool in his hand. “What a night.”
“That is the last time we play a club that small!” Peter said, hauling his bass onto the bandstand. “I feel like I’m twenty pounds lighter!”
“Would have helped if they’d actually had some air conditioning!” Micky panted as he opened the window and leaned out of it, looking like nothing so much as a dog hanging its head out of a car window as the cool night breeze ruffled his wet hair.
“And to make it worse they didn’t even pay us that well,” Mike said. “Not even when that fight broke out and beer got splashed all over the stage.”
Davy grunted as he half-fell onto the chaise. “And it didn’t even taste good!”
“Well, at least the owner thought we were good and he said he’ll recommend us to other clubs,” Peter said, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe next time we’ll get lucky.”
“And not baptised!” Davy chuckled. “I’m gonna go change.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Mike said, pulling his own shirt off. There was a long red line across his shoulders where his guitar strap had been that night.
Davy hissed when he saw it. “Pete, take off your shirt.”
Peter bent over slightly and pulled his sodden shirt off. A similar line, slightly darker because of his heavier instrument, graced his back.
“Mick, look at this.”
Micky pulled his head in and bounced across the living room. “Look at what—whoa!” He touched Peter’s back. “That’s hideous!”
“Mike’s got one too—guys, do those hurt?”
Mike shook his head. “Nope. It itches a little, though.”
Davy nodded. “Go shower—get the sweat off it.”
“Orderin’ me around?” Mike said with a small smile.
“Someone’s got to sometimes,” Davy grinned back. Mike stuck out his tongue as he headed upstairs. Davy’s smile faltered as he sighed and headed toward the bedroom.
Micky followed. “Hey, anything wrong? You’ve been awful quiet since we got home.”
Davy smiled tightly as he began to change. “Just bugged. That place was a little . . . close.”
Micky nodded. He understood Davy’s aversion to close quarters, darkness, and anything else that might serve to restrain him. “Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.” Davy shrugged on clean trousers and smiled as he met Micky’s eyes. “Honestly.”
“Okay.” Micky smiled and backed out. A few moments later Davy heard boots on the staircase, and heard the upstairs bedroom door slam. A split second later came Mike’s roared “Micky!”, audible even over the shower.
Davy laughed, vividly picturing what Micky was up to. “Should’a named him Imp instead of Thin,” he chuckled as he finished dressing, then came out of the bedroom as he buttoned his shirt. Peter passed by, giving the smaller man a brotherly rap on the shoulder as he headed for the shower. As the door closed behind him Mike walked down the stairs, running a comb through his wet hair.
“You look better,” Davy smiled.
A pair of dark brown eyes locked on him, looking him up and down. “Can’t say the same for you.” Then one of the eyes closed in a wink.
Davy’s mouth opened, then closed as he shot a sour look at Mike before he headed for the kitchen.
“Davy, I was just kiddin’, man,” Mike said, following him.
“I know,” Davy sighed as he got some juice from the refrigerator and drank it from the carton. “Like I told Micky—I’m just bugged.”
Mike stuck his hands in his pocket. “C’mon.”
Davy’s head tilted. “Come on?”
Mike nodded towards the front door. “Let’s take a walk.”
Davy nodded. He scrawled a quick note for the others, leaving it on the table. He would never understand what urge prompted him to write the time down on it. When that was done he and Mike headed out the door into the night.
After about a quarter of a mile walked in silence, Davy looked up and sighed. He spread his arms and tilted his head back. “Moonlight . . . ”
“Nice and peaceful,” Mike agreed, nearly invisible in his black jeans and black sweatshirt.
“M-hm . . . quiet . . . feels good.” He turned to smile at Mike. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Nothin’. Just figured a quiet walk might help.”
Davy nodded. “Thanks, Mike.”
“Anytime.”
They walked in silence awhile longer, then Davy stopped abruptly. His face twisted into a grimace as his hand flew to the back of his neck.
“Davy? What is it?” Mike reached out, catching Davy by the arms.
“My tattoo’s doing the twitch-and-crawl,” he growled.
Mike opened his mouth to ask what Davy was talking about, but then his tattoo gave a violent twinge just as something bigger and heavier hit him in the back, sending him smashing into Davy.
Davy let out a yell and tried to roll to his feet as he hit the ground, only to find something heavy holding him down. A dark figure loomed over them, its boot planted firmly on Mike’s back as other dark shapes swarmed around them.
“Who are you?” Davy demanded. “What do you want?”
“Take them,” a voice said. Whether it came from the man standing on Mike or not, there was no way of telling.
“Wait!” Davy gasped, twisting his arms and shoulders away from the hands trying to grasp him. “There’s been some mistake!”
Mike took advantage of the distraction and rolled, kicking upwards. His opponent’s grunt as Mike’s foot made contact was satisfying to both Winds. Davy began to attack as well, rolling and punching with both fists.
For a moment their attackers retreated and an opening appeared, offering welcome escape. As Mike lunged for it, something touched his hand; as he leaped forward it pulled taut, sending searing pain through his wrist as he was yanked backwards, his temple connecting with the knuckles of a clenched fist.
Davy let out a primal roar and lunged for Mike’s attackers. He managed to land three good punches and one good kick before something hard smashed into the back of his head.
There was nothing either one could do as hands grabbed them, tightly binding their wrists and ankles and tying blindfolds over their eyes. Davy couldn’t suppress the quiet whimper that escaped through his clenched teeth.
“Davy, man, it’s okay. We’ll get outta this,” Mike said, arching his long body forward as if to prove his point.
He was rudely jerked back. “Bring them!”
Mike began struggling in earnest, filled with the terrifying certainty that if they allowed their attackers to carry them off, they’d never see the light of day again. He heard words breathed in Chinese, then a blow sent him spiraling into darkness.
On to Chapter Two
Back to Secrets and Lies Index
