Rough Cut

Lions and Tigers and Snares-3

I cried out and came hard.

When I was back to the real world, he was kissing my neck and shoulders, and rubbing his hands over my back. I pulled back but he kept me close. “Stay here, just for a minute.” He grimaced and stretched his legs down and I slipped a little out of him. It felt so warm and sweet to be held this way.

It scared me.

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for; I was here to do a job.

After a while we lay front to front on the sticky sofa. Kendall smiled, pushed my sweaty hair back and kissed me. “A shower, a smoke, and good s*x. Who knew?”

“You feeling better?” I palmed down his torso, admiring his full chest and broad shoulders.

“Yeah, a lot better.”

I leaned up and grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa. We snugged a couple of pillows under our heads and lay back together. Time to push a little more, I decided. “So, you and Ricardo…Things seem pretty tense between you two.”

“Tense? You could say that.” He looked away from me, as if embarrassed.

“You guys exes or business partners or what exactly?”

“Soon to be ex-business partners if I have my way.”

“What’s the deal?”

Kendall sighed. He ran a hand down my chest and fingered my belly button. “Ooooh, an outie. Aren’t you too sexy?”

I touched his chin and made him look at me. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But…This could be more than just sport f*****g, ya know? If you let it.”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t pull away. He pressed closer and let his fingers run over my face. “Light us another joint, wouldja?”

After a couple minutes, the joint was half-gone, and he was more relaxed. I took a couple hits but didn’t want to get too stoned; he didn’t seem to notice. He told me how Ricardo had showed up a couple years ago when the refuge was in bad financial shape, how Ricardo had funded a lot of the improvements to be certified as a quarantine facility, that Ricardo paid him a salary that anyone south of Atlanta would blink at. Everything seemed good for the first year then Ricardo started bringing new cats to quarantine. They’d stay for a couple of weeks, then be gone; Kendall didn’t find out where until this spring.

Ricardo was supplying the game farms in Texas and Alabama. Wholesale prices weren’t very high for some big cats—hell, you could go to any animal auction in the South and buy an adult tiger for six hundred dollars—but the rarer breeds earned Ricardo real money.

“He makes me sick. What he does with these cats makes me sick.” Kendall smacked his palm against the sofa. “That fucker.”

“What’s his hold on you? I mean, it’s not the gay thing, is it?”

“He doesn’t care who I fuck.”

“So, what’s the deal?”

Kendall pointed to a few photos over the fireplace. I got up for a closer look. They all showed Kendall and a dark-haired woman. Older? Younger? It was impossible to tell. She had the distinctive appearance of the retarded: her body blockish and solid, her eyes a little flat, her smile innocent and wide. “Sister?” I asked.

“Yeah, two years older. She’s not profound, just moderate. We tried her in a group home but even that was too much for her. So, I’ve got her in an ALF. She’s happy there.”

“And having her here isn’t an option, obviously.”

“Not with my job. Maybe if I were an accountant or something. You know how the cats are; I can’t even bring her here to visit.”

“Is that where you go on Wednesdays?” He nodded. “ALFs like that are expensive, I bet.”

“Five grand a month.”

“And how much does Ricardo pay you?”

His dark eyes gazed at me, cold now, a little reptilian. Maybe that was the anger. “Enough to take care of her and the cats.”

“You trying to get out?”

He sat up on the sofa, the throw puddled over his legs. He palmed his face, pulling his features back into a grimace that looked like a lion phelgming—scenting the air. “I’m trying to figure out a way to get out. The refuge can’t survive on donations alone; we’re too isolated. I’d have to get a f*****g job.”

I sat down again, close. “Or keep less animals.”

“Not an option.” Of course not, not for Kendall.

“You know for sure that’s Ricardo’s selling these animals off to dealers? And that he’s importing them illegally?”

“Yeah. He’s got a connection with some old Army buddy of his who’s still in Thailand. They fly direct into the country, some kind of military plane that doesn’t file flight plans. You can buy anything in Bangkok; hell, you can buy humans in Bangkok.”

“Does he have any records here? Any invoices or receipts?”

“He keeps some kind of ledger in the office. Plus, he has his Palm Pilot.”

“Videos maybe, of the hunts?”

“He’s got some in the office with the VCR, but they’re old. Most of the stuff he has coded on his website.”

“Any other evidence?”

Kendall looked at me sharply. I saw the realization hit him, saw the second that he knew I was after something. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m not who you think I am.” I pressed him back and straddled his thick thighs. I nuzzled at his n*****s; his chest hair tickled my lips, soft. Kendall groaned. I pinned his thick arms over his head. His pupils were huge; they made his eyes look abnormal, a little creepy. “Maybe there’s a way to get you out of this situation. Are you willing to testify against him?”

His eyes went cold. “Will it put him in jail?”

“In prison. And we’ll find a way to save these cats you’ve got now.”

He looked over at the mantel and grimaced. A few seconds ticked by. He grabbed my hands and pulled them to his chest. “What do you need me to do?”

The sun rose and the room grayed with soft light. I saw hope in his face, a way out of the mess, a way out for the cats. “Okay, here’s the plan…”

* * * *

The plan went fine until Ricardo got hold of the kill gun from Kendall’s office.

Most wildlife facilities had a shotgun onsite—for a worst-case scenario. It wasn’t something a handler ever wanted to face. Killing an animal you were trying to protect felt like the worst kind of failure. But with apex predators you needed one nearby.

There wasn’t time to get Kendall wired, so I made do with a little hand-held mini recorder tucked into his waistband. I had Russo and his team in the woods outside the entrance, and when the buyer’s truck rolled in, I kept my headset on, and hid in the quarantine barn’s office. I could see and hear what went on in the walkway and a little of the cages.

Ricardo and his Texas boys strolled through, Kendall a step behind, glowering.

“Look at these cats!” Ricardo banged his walking stick against a cage door.

The black leopard in the cage growled and crouched down in one corner, unwilling to move. Bored, Ricardo turned to the next cage. The spotted leopard there was waiting for him. When he raised his stick, the cat leaped against the barrier at face level, its claws out. The chain link rattled fiercely as it pawed the metal. Ricardo jerked back in surprise, then recovered. He smacked the leopard’s paws from the outside, but it didn’t back down.

“Stop it.” Kendall’s voice was tight.

Ricardo just grinned. “They need the excitement.”

“No, they need to be back in the wild. They don’t belong in these cages.” Kendall stood in the aisle, fists clenched.

“I don’t need your candy-ass animal rights crap right now. Shut up.”

“You know they’re endangered and you sell them. You’re helping to destroy the entire population.”

“These animals are going to die anyway! If I can make some money speeding up that process, then that’s my right.”

Good work, Kendall. Get him on tape, get the evidence.

The buyers edged out, looking anxious.

“It’s not your right, you lousy f**k. You’re not taking these leopards; I’m keeping them.”

Ricardo’s face went blank, utterly smooth. I had that split-second of gut warning and before I could get out of the office, into the barn, Ricardo swung his walking stick against Kendall’s head. An ugly crack of sound and Kendall crumpled to the dirt floor, on his knees. He covered his face as blood spilled into his eyes and mouth.

It made my guts twist. Seeing him hurt made my chest go cold. How far to let this go? Should I hold back, wait for Kendall to get Ricardo to say the right words?

The cats went nuts.

They smelled the blood, started yowling. They clanged against the metal cages. The leopard closest to Kendall swiped out with one thick paw, snagged his boot. It actually dragged him a few inches towards the cage.

Kendall kicked back and swayed on his knees. The blood from his scalp wound was bright red, healthy-looking. It turned to copper on barn’s dirt floor.

Ricardo prodded his stick into Kendall’s belly. “You are not going to ruin my operation here. You work for me, you little shit.”

Kendall tried to rise but Ricardo jabbed the stick into his chest, knocking him back into the dirt. The cats paced in their cages, smelling the blood, sensing a potential victim on the ground who was injured—vulnerable.

Kendall spoke through gritted teeth. “You’re not taking them to Texas to kill them. I’ll kill them myself, right now, before I let you do this again.”

“We’ll see who does the killing today.” Ricardo slammed the stick against Kendall’s neck, and he went down again, face in the dirt.

Ricardo gahlumped into the office; even with the walking stick he could move pretty fast. He was in the door and grabbing the shotgun off the wall before I even realized it. He turned, saw me, and his eyes went flat again—dangerously cold. I started to reach for my ankle holster, but he smacked me in the belly with the butt of the shotgun. The air whooshed from my lungs in a sickening wrench. I staggered against the desk, trying to stay up.

Ricardo broke the shotgun, checked the shells and marched back out into the barn.

I sucked for air, hitting the desk with my palms, trying to get my lungs to inflate. Gray speckles of light flashed in my vision.

Oh no, I cannot faint now.

It felt like forever, but it was only a few seconds. I heard Russo’s voice in my earpiece—“Are you there? Byron, are you hit?”—endlessly, over and over until I could finally get some oxygen.

“Move in! Move in! He’s got the shotgun!” My voice was whispery, dry but I heard Russo’s “10-4” from the other end.

I fumbled in my ankle holster and drew my .45. Frightened as I was, I still remembered to clear the doorway before exiting, to check my line of fire even as I moved towards Ricardo. His back was to me, and he prodded Kendall with the ugly end of the shotgun.

Kendall stayed down.

“Drop your weapon, Ricardo! I’m a game commission officer, and I’ve got a gun on you. Put it down and turn around slowly. Hands in the air!”

He stiffened. I focused on his broad back, ample target area from just four yards away. The gun was still pointed at Kendall’s bloody skull.

“Do it, Ricardo! I will shoot you. Drop it!”

It was truly slow motion. His head turned first. I saw his wide eyes, his mouth open and snarling—then his stomach made the turn, his left hand on the stock and he kept turning and turning, the shotgun swinging towards the cage to my left, then around, its metal glinting, his finger on the trigger—oh, no, the shotgun, oh no no no no!

I squeezed the .45’s trigger fast—one, two, three, just like on the range—then stopped to check my target. Ricardo dropped to his knees, the blossom of blood on his shirt dark red, heart’s blood, and his eyes rolled back and he took forever to pitch face forward into the dirt.

The shotgun clattered to the ground.

I kept my gun out and bent to check him. No pulse, just warm flesh, still and silent. My earpiece squawked but I couldn’t focus on Russo’s words. I kneed over to Kendall.

“Hey, Kendall,” I said and rolled him over gently. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned like a bull. “Open your eyes for me, please.”

His face was slippery with blood. “What happened?” His voice was raspy, filled with pain.

“Ricardo tried to shoot you. How’s your head?”

“Shitty. Really shitty.”

“You’ve probably got a concussion. Just lie still.” I pressed my headset. “Russo, tell me there’s an ambulance on the way. We need medical attention!”

“Pulling in right now. Ambulance is at the back.”

“I’ve got one suspect down, one civvie with a head wound.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s Kendall. He’s one of the good guys.” I managed a half-smile, put one trembling palm on his slick face. He grasped my hand with his, clutching, tight as a cub. The pain in his eyes made me feel nauseated; he’d taken some hits for his cats, and for my operation.

I heard the trucks barreling up the drive. The cats roared and screamed around us.

I bent down and kissed his soft lips. The blood was salty and sweet at the same time.

He let his fingers trail against my chest. “You stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.” I kissed his hand and held it until Russo’s team arrived and my vision went fuzzy again—just a little—the adrenaline seeping from my system. The EMTs jogged in with a stretcher, and they pushed me away.

Shaky, I couldn’t stand. I watched them work on Kendall with Russo at my side. He took one look at Ricardo’s body oozing blood into the ground and just stood next to me, a fatherly hand on my shoulder.

* * * *

Nine days later, the windows open to a late-season cool front. We woke in Kendall’s bed. The bandage was off his scalp and fresh pink flesh grew over his lacerations. He’d done a night in the hospital, then a week of rest at home. The department put me on administrative leave, SOP after a shooting. I was fine with the time off. Randy and I managed the cats for the week Kendall was down. Hard work.

Each night Kendall and I soaked in the tub together, and he made me forget my sore muscles.

“Wanna go into town and hit the buffet for breakfast?” he asked.

“You that hungry?”

“Starved.” His hand worked between my legs, tugging my testicles in a gentle rhythm. My c**k filled with blood and stretched against my belly. “Maybe I need an appetizer first.”

“I think you do.”

He nuzzled down my belly as he straddled my thighs. The heat of his mouth on my c**k made me shiver—so soft inside yet insistent. He really liked to suck when he gave a blowjob; sometimes it tickled and hurt at the same time. I watched his head bob up and down as he wet me with his spit. He kept one hand between my legs, stroking just behind my balls. The other was wrapped around me, squeezing just beneath the cap, just the way I liked it.

I loved watching him over me: his gleaming hair, his neck muscles that corded as he worked my c**k, his shoulders smooth-skinned and solid. His long eyelashes lay against his cheeks, hiding his beautiful eyes. He jerked me faster, my breathing raced and sweat prickled my chest and belly.

Close now, so close.

“Look at me when I come.” My voice was scratchy. “Make me come, Kendall.”

He bent lower, took me into his throat and milked me. The pressured heat ran up my balls and throbbed through my c**k. He raised his eyes to mine just as I came and held me with his gaze as he swallowed me down. My fingers gripped his shoulders until the skin turned red, and I bucked with my hips, wanting to fill him with more, more, more.

He let me go and kissed up my belly. The breeze carried in the whiff of wild animal and just as he lay his head on my chest, Walter’s roar belted through the compound.