Chapter one; Murder attempt
Richie Ryan loved living at the Antique store. Tessa and Mac were probably the two most important people in his life, even if he had only known them for just over two months. He might never tell them, but the time he had with them was precious to him. The only thing that he wasn't so keen on were Mac's immortal friends/enemies who came looking for Mac, then decided to kidnap Richie and use him as bait or ransom or just to piss him off. That part of his new life wasn't so great.
But that was exactly the position he found himself in now. Tied up and blindfolded somewhere, with a splitting headache from the blow to the head he had sustained when they knocked him out to kidnap him.
There were two of them. Richie didn't know if they were both Immortal or if just one of them was. All he knew was one of them had hit him over the head with.something. Then one of them had carried him as if he weighed nothing to the car. They had then tied his hands and feet together before driving .somewhere, where they had dumped him, unceremoniously on a cold concrete floor. Richie had at first tried to loosen the ropes around his wrists. He had nasty rope burn to show for his efforts but that was about it. He supposed they must do this sort of thing a lot.
Perhaps the worst thing about this kidnapping was the fact that he was being completely ignored. Neither of the men had said a single word to him in the hours they'd been together. Richie could hear them talking together not far away, but they didn't seem to even remember he was there.
A few hours after he'd originally had that thought he decided being ignored might not be that bad after all.
"He hasn't answered. Our instructions were very clear. You know what we have to do," he heard one of the men saying.
"Couldn't we give him a little more time?" The second man asked. "It seems a shame to kill the kid cos his old man's a no show."
Kill him? This wasn't sounding good.
"No. No more time. We have to stick to our guns. We told him 4pm, no later. It's 4.15. If he truly cared about his son he'd be here. When we leave a corpse on his doorstep perhaps he'll take us more seriously next time."
OK, that definitely wasn't good. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was the kid they were talking about and who they were going to kill because his dad, meaning Mac, hadn't shown up when they'd told him to. One thing was confusing Richie though. Why would an Immortal think Mac had a son? And instructions to follow? There was definitely something weird going on here.
"Fine," he heard the man sigh. "You want me to take care of it?"
"Yeah. I'll go let him now we had to waste the kid."
Shit! What the hell was he gonna do now? He was stiff from lying in pretty much one position for hours, had no use in his hands and legs and there were two of them, both of whom were bigger and stronger than Richie was.
I'm screwed, Richie thought.
His only chance was if Mac arrived. Now.
He felt rough hands grab at his shirt and pull him to his feet. Then the blindfold was removed. The first thing he saw were the unflinching, unforgiving, hazel eyes of his murderer. He would never forget those eyes.
"Sorry about this kid," the man said. "It's nothing personal you know? It's just a shame your dad didn't show up. We could have avoided all this unpleasantness."
Unpleasantness? Was that all this was to the guy?
"But Mac's not my dad," Richie said, knowing that either the man wouldn't believe him, or he just wouldn't care.
The man just shrugged. "I was told you'd say that. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll try and make this quick."
No. Please," Richie said. "please don't kill me."
The mans eyes softened. "If there was an alternative I'd take it kid, believe me. But there isn't."
Funnily enough, Richie did believe him. He also believed the man was about to end his life, for no good reason.
"Please," Richie said again, starting to get really worried. Still no sign of Mac. "I'll do anything."
"Nothing you can do kid." He said shaking his head. "Decisions been made."
There had to be something he could do. He couldn't die like this! Hew wasn't ready!
Richie tried to pull away. A useless gesture, he knew, but he wasn't just going to stand there.
"Hey, c'mon kid," the man said tightening his grip so it was painful. "It'll hurt more if you struggle. Just relax and it'll be over before you know it."
Richie didn't want it to be over. How could this guy be so relaxed about this? He was talking to Richie as if it was nothing. As if he was nothing.
"I don't wanna die," Richie said in a small voice.
The man nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. "I know. Noone ever does. But it's the natural order of things.
"No, this isn't natural," Richie said desperately. "I'm not ready. Please don't."
"I already told you," the man said patiently. "I don't have a choice. There is no alternative."
Richie's mind was working on overdrive. Mac would come. Mac would save him. He always did. Richie just had to stall. Give him more time.
"Why don't you have a choice? There's always a choice."
"Ah. So young. So idealistic. Truth is kid, a mans only as good as his word. We gave your old man till four. He hasn't shown. We have to show him we mean what we say."
"Give him more time. He'll be here," Richie pleaded.
"No can do. He's missed his deadline. Enough talking now."
That was all the warning he got. The man had pulled a knife and plunged it into Richie's chest. He let Richie crumple to the ground, gasping. Christ the pain! His body was on fire, and he couldn't breathe. There was already a pool of his blood gathering beneath him. He was going to die. Here. Now. Lying on a cold concrete floor, his murderer slowly backing away from him, leaving him alone and afraid, with one clear thought ringing through his mind just before the darkness took him.
Mac hadn't come. Mac had abandoned him.
*****
Richie Ryan loved living at the Antique store. Tessa and Mac were probably the two most important people in his life, even if he had only known them for just over two months. He might never tell them, but the time he had with them was precious to him. The only thing that he wasn't so keen on were Mac's immortal friends/enemies who came looking for Mac, then decided to kidnap Richie and use him as bait or ransom or just to piss him off. That part of his new life wasn't so great.
But that was exactly the position he found himself in now. Tied up and blindfolded somewhere, with a splitting headache from the blow to the head he had sustained when they knocked him out to kidnap him.
There were two of them. Richie didn't know if they were both Immortal or if just one of them was. All he knew was one of them had hit him over the head with.something. Then one of them had carried him as if he weighed nothing to the car. They had then tied his hands and feet together before driving .somewhere, where they had dumped him, unceremoniously on a cold concrete floor. Richie had at first tried to loosen the ropes around his wrists. He had nasty rope burn to show for his efforts but that was about it. He supposed they must do this sort of thing a lot.
Perhaps the worst thing about this kidnapping was the fact that he was being completely ignored. Neither of the men had said a single word to him in the hours they'd been together. Richie could hear them talking together not far away, but they didn't seem to even remember he was there.
A few hours after he'd originally had that thought he decided being ignored might not be that bad after all.
"He hasn't answered. Our instructions were very clear. You know what we have to do," he heard one of the men saying.
"Couldn't we give him a little more time?" The second man asked. "It seems a shame to kill the kid cos his old man's a no show."
Kill him? This wasn't sounding good.
"No. No more time. We have to stick to our guns. We told him 4pm, no later. It's 4.15. If he truly cared about his son he'd be here. When we leave a corpse on his doorstep perhaps he'll take us more seriously next time."
OK, that definitely wasn't good. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was the kid they were talking about and who they were going to kill because his dad, meaning Mac, hadn't shown up when they'd told him to. One thing was confusing Richie though. Why would an Immortal think Mac had a son? And instructions to follow? There was definitely something weird going on here.
"Fine," he heard the man sigh. "You want me to take care of it?"
"Yeah. I'll go let him now we had to waste the kid."
Shit! What the hell was he gonna do now? He was stiff from lying in pretty much one position for hours, had no use in his hands and legs and there were two of them, both of whom were bigger and stronger than Richie was.
I'm screwed, Richie thought.
His only chance was if Mac arrived. Now.
He felt rough hands grab at his shirt and pull him to his feet. Then the blindfold was removed. The first thing he saw were the unflinching, unforgiving, hazel eyes of his murderer. He would never forget those eyes.
"Sorry about this kid," the man said. "It's nothing personal you know? It's just a shame your dad didn't show up. We could have avoided all this unpleasantness."
Unpleasantness? Was that all this was to the guy?
"But Mac's not my dad," Richie said, knowing that either the man wouldn't believe him, or he just wouldn't care.
The man just shrugged. "I was told you'd say that. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'll try and make this quick."
No. Please," Richie said. "please don't kill me."
The mans eyes softened. "If there was an alternative I'd take it kid, believe me. But there isn't."
Funnily enough, Richie did believe him. He also believed the man was about to end his life, for no good reason.
"Please," Richie said again, starting to get really worried. Still no sign of Mac. "I'll do anything."
"Nothing you can do kid." He said shaking his head. "Decisions been made."
There had to be something he could do. He couldn't die like this! Hew wasn't ready!
Richie tried to pull away. A useless gesture, he knew, but he wasn't just going to stand there.
"Hey, c'mon kid," the man said tightening his grip so it was painful. "It'll hurt more if you struggle. Just relax and it'll be over before you know it."
Richie didn't want it to be over. How could this guy be so relaxed about this? He was talking to Richie as if it was nothing. As if he was nothing.
"I don't wanna die," Richie said in a small voice.
The man nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. "I know. Noone ever does. But it's the natural order of things.
"No, this isn't natural," Richie said desperately. "I'm not ready. Please don't."
"I already told you," the man said patiently. "I don't have a choice. There is no alternative."
Richie's mind was working on overdrive. Mac would come. Mac would save him. He always did. Richie just had to stall. Give him more time.
"Why don't you have a choice? There's always a choice."
"Ah. So young. So idealistic. Truth is kid, a mans only as good as his word. We gave your old man till four. He hasn't shown. We have to show him we mean what we say."
"Give him more time. He'll be here," Richie pleaded.
"No can do. He's missed his deadline. Enough talking now."
That was all the warning he got. The man had pulled a knife and plunged it into Richie's chest. He let Richie crumple to the ground, gasping. Christ the pain! His body was on fire, and he couldn't breathe. There was already a pool of his blood gathering beneath him. He was going to die. Here. Now. Lying on a cold concrete floor, his murderer slowly backing away from him, leaving him alone and afraid, with one clear thought ringing through his mind just before the darkness took him.
Mac hadn't come. Mac had abandoned him.
*****