“Pain doesn’t do a whole lot to mitigate your sexiness. Let’s get this over with,” he says, grasping Neal’s elbow to keep him upright. “Remember: you call the shots. She’s got nothing without you and she knows it.”
He smiles, feels a little thrill of excitement and nerves. The taxi pulls up and Neal eases himself into it with Malcolm's help, supplying the address Rachel gave them. It's a nondescript building on a nondescript block. She doesn't emerge until the taxi has pulled away, stepping out from between two buildings to study them both. Malcolm with loathing, Neal with a possessive worry. A hurt that he can't interpret.
"I'm here," Neal says. "Where's the work?"
Rebecca holds up a pair of heavy wire cutters. "Lose the anklet, then we drive."
“I already removed the anklet,” Malcolm tells her. He gives the wire cutters a distasteful look. “Without damaging it. Wire cutters? Really? Now when he gets back, he can pop it back on and nobody will ever know.”
“We will be going back, after all,” Neal says. “Right?”
She gives Malcolm another disdainful look and turns to lead the way down the alley, to a beautiful Mercedes with tinted windows. “Back seat, there are blindfolds in there. Tie them on.”
Rachel glares at Malcolm for a moment before her focus slides over to Neal. "Put them on, Neal, you and your boyfriend, or the next shot I take with my nice big sniper rifle will hit a little closer to home."
Neal finds Malcolm's hand and grips it tight.
"Please," he says softly. He doesn't want to imagine who Rebecca would shoot first.
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"Well. Can you imagine me enjoying you wearing swimtrunks?"
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Then he winces. “Mmh. Probably sexier when I don’t back it up by twitching with pain.”
Still. They have work to do. Neal eases to his feet, using Malcolm to stay balanced.
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He flexes his fingers, wincing. Glad June isn’t present in the moment to see this. “What did she give me?”
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"You can thank me by beating her at her twisted game," he says softly.
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"I'm here," Neal says. "Where's the work?"
Rebecca holds up a pair of heavy wire cutters. "Lose the anklet, then we drive."
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She gives Malcolm another disdainful look and turns to lead the way down the alley, to a beautiful Mercedes with tinted windows. “Back seat, there are blindfolds in there. Tie them on.”
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Neal finds Malcolm's hand and grips it tight.
"Please," he says softly. He doesn't want to imagine who Rebecca would shoot first.
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It looks better if she thinks he's reluctant, but they do want to get to the prize.
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"Rachel--"
"Don't," she says, sharply. "To you, it's Rebecca."
Neal pauses, confused. "Okay."
"Stay quiet, stay still, and we'll get where we need to be in about fifteen minutes."
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