"Passed out. Looks like they drugged him. He doesn't have a mark on him. He's breathing … as best I can tell anyway."
"Raped … " Drew hated saying the word. "The woman, not sure about the man. Quinn, the woman-"
"Tell me later. We need to get out of here and find Nathan. Natalie has gone for backup. I always wanted to say that." Quinn huffed again as the bonds came loose. "Fucker knew what he was doing. This shit is tough. The knots are professional and designed to hold until he lets you out."
"I figure rodeo," Drew said and Quinn snorted. "What's so funny?"
"You're too damned naïve, Drew. Dude is into hardcore bondage. Maybe he started out with pigs or cattle, but, dude, no, this kind of rope is for binding people." Quinn moved down his legs as soon as he'd untangled Drew's wrists.
"And you know this how?" Drew rubbed feeling back into his numb arms. Quinn looked up from his work and winked him. The promise in his eyes went straight to Drew's dick. "Because you've been tied up, of course. How stupid of me."
"Just this afternoon, in fact. Cuffs are good, but there's something about ropes to get the blood flowing properly. Or keep it from flowing. Depends on what you're into." The knife blade glinted in the light coming in from the outer room. Quinn's hands moving deftly over the bonds. Quinn seemed so calm. He'd been like that that Christmas too. Calm when he should be the one freaking out. While Drew was the one freaking out.
"We're talking about sex kinks while I'm sitting in blood and I have no idea what else. This is probably the sickest conversation I've ever had."
"Made the panic stop, didn't it?" Quinn flashed him a wicked grin. "This used to be a butcher shop. My mom would give me five dollars in quarters to play Pac-Man next door while she waited for her order here every Saturday. I couldn't stand the way this place smelled, and the arcade kept me out of trouble and out of her hair. God, that was more than thirty years ago. I was six the last time we came here. Before she died. Smells like dead things."
"There are three corpses in the corner." Drew thought he should mention that little detail.
"Two more in the deep freezer," Quinn said as the ropes around Drew's legs fell loose. "Plus Lonnie and you. That's … some sick, twisted shit."
"You have no idea," Drew said, trying not to moan when the pinprick tingling in his legs spiked into full-blown pain. "Oh, fuck."
Quinn looked at him with fear in his eyes. "You're bleeding. Fuck. I didn't cut you. I was careful."
Drew remembered the gunfire he'd heard earlier. That hadn't been in his dreams. Neither had the shot he'd taken hours ago. "Shot. Goddamned bitch shot me. Birdshot … I think. It stings like a motherfucker."
"There's a lot of blood." Quinn ran his hand up Drew's leg to his thigh. "Here." Drew bit his lip to keep from crying out as Drew found the wound. "At least it's just pellets."
"Still hurts."
"You'll live." He pulled Drew to his feet. Drew put all his weight on his right leg. His left wasn't having any of it. "Gotta get Lonnie out of here and find Nathan."
"Where is Nate?" Quinn finally showed more than a little fear. There was real terror in his eyes.
"Don't know. I was alone when I came to. We found Lonnie's truck hidden in the back of the burned-out building. Nathan turned to go back to his truck to call for backup. Next thing I know, I'm on the ground with some big-ass redneck staring down at me." Drew took a step for the door, his leg giving as he put his weight on it.
Quin caught him and tucked his shoulder under Drew's arm. He wrapped his arm around Drew's waist to hold him up. "Fuck," Quinn whispered. "Okay. Nathan is out there somewhere. I heard shots fired not that long ago. He's not far."
Drew nodded even though he knew Quinn couldn't see. "Where's your car?"
"Natalie is heading back to town for help." Quinn tightened his grip on Drew and started moving toward the door. "I told her not to come back. No matter what."
Drew limped out of the makeshift morgue, wincing with each step. "Like she's going to listen. She's just like her brother."
They stepped out of the cooler and into the fire. The gun that pointed at them definitely wasn't filled with birdshot. Victoria-formerly-Truman had traded up for a goddamned rifle. "How exciting … I always wanted a sister. You'd think my dear husband would have mentioned something as important as a sister. But considering he forgot to tell me that he was filthy fucking rich, I guess I could let that one slide. I mean we were together for two years. I suppose I could be grateful that he forgot to tell me he was actually a queer. Speaking of … look what the cat dragged in … Quinn Anders, Nashville's favorite faggot."