Sweet Southern Comfort

"Lie down, get comfortable." I walked to the bed and turned slowly, sitting gently on the bed. "Lay back, hands at the headboard."

I congratulated myself for not trembling as my head hit the mattress and I raised my arms over my head. My gun pressed into my temple as the bartender cuffed my right wrist then wrapped around the bedpost to clasp on my left. He stood back from me, grinning. "I know what you're thinking. I'm afraid to disappoint you." He reached into his pocket and took out two more sets of cuffs. "Spread your legs." When I balked, the gun was against my temple again. "Don't get any ideas."

It took everything I had to spread my legs to the two corners of the bed. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the smug look on the asshole's face as he trussed me up. I felt the cold steel around my left ankle and heard the click as it secured on the bed. I swallowed deeply then looked down to watch him secure my other leg, knowing my chances had lessened.

When the bonds were secure, the bartender looked up at me, smirking. "Squirm for me." When I shook my head, he moved the gun down a few inches so his aim left my face and moved to my balls. "Do as I say, or you're gonna bleed to death in a horribly painful way."

I swallowed my fear and pulled with all my might against my bonds. The bed was made of solid oak and wasn't going anywhere. My wrists became raw from pulling, my ankles cramped from the strain. The bartender grabbed my leg, causing me to flinch, but stop my struggling. "Good. Keep following orders."

I watched with disgust as he unbuttoned his shirt, switching the gun from hand to hand as he dropped the sleeves. The man was thin, but not in the slightest bit attractive. There was little to no muscle definition, his very gauntness keeping him from looking as fat and pudgy as he was. As he dropped his trousers, I stared at skinny, pale, hair-dusted legs. He was erect beneath his bikini briefs. He dropped those and sported a very thin, but long cock. I shut my eyes and felt my heart beat hard and fast in fear. Good God, what was he going to do to me?

Kneeling on the bed, the bartender ran his hand over my chest and belly, stirring my body hair, cooing as he felt my body. When he grabbed my cock, stroking my foreskin, trying to coax a response, I felt ill. I fought my body's reaction, not wanting to appear as if I enjoyed this at all. As he stroked me hard and fast, I bit my lip so hard, I drew blood. "You have a nice cock, but don't worry, it'll soon rise to the occasion."

He moved up me, straddling my chest, purring as his balls rested in my chest hair. The bartender grabbed me by my hair, pulling my head up. "Suck it."

I shook my head, even though the pulled hair caused my eyes to well with tears. "Suck it! You fucking whore! Suck it!"

My eyes shut as I felt the gun press to my temple. Tears welled in my eyes as I opened my mouth. He touched his cock to my lips and I didn't respond. The gun pressed harder into my head. "Suck it! Make it good, or when I'm done here, I'll visit your boy toy in the hospital and finish what I started."

My heart stopped and my eyes burst open. Fear, new and all consuming, took over. I closed my mouth around his dick and sucked him, moving up and down his shaft. He didn't press much past my lips, but I fought back a gag. When you didn't want to do this, a blowjob became a disgusting act. He kept moaning as he pressed the gun harder and harder into my temple. After an unknown amount of time, he grabbed my hair and started pumping faster into my mouth, pushing hard, crying out as he came. I wanted to spit it out of my mouth, the salty tang made me sick. "Swallow!" I shut my eyes and swallowed, praying I wouldn't throw up.

I don't think the bartender knew what to do with me after he came. He pulled back from my mouth, panting. "That was good. Too good. I didn't want to cum so soon."

I kept my mouth shut, still trying to avoid throwing up. The asshole sat back on my belly, caressing my chest. He looked down at me with his evil eyes. "I'm gonna fuck you at least twice tonight. I hope you're not a screamer. I don't want to gag you when I slip inside you."

I broke out in a cold sweat. No one fucked me. Not since my first boyfriend. We'd been so damn eager to try everything and his overly rambunctious attempt had left me aching and bleeding. Ever since, I had never once wanted to try it again, at least until Liam. His words, even under the influence of the drug, had turned me on, made me want to try again. But I didn't want this asshole to touch me. If I were going to give my ass up, it would be to Liam and only him.

"You're an active guy... where's your stash?" His words snapped me out of my new panic. I looked at him and he grew impatient. "I'll do you dry, I don't give a shit, but you might. Lube?"

I looked over to the bedside table involuntarily. He leaned over me, not near enough to use my teeth, but the gun for the first time wasn't pointed at me as he rummaged in my drawer. He pulled the lube out and grinned at me. "Scream all you want. I don't care. But call out for help, and I'll gag you, and I don't care if you choke."

Oh God! It would happen. He would rape me. I pulled against the bedpost with my arms, panic urging me on. The gun pressed to my nose just as I heard a snapping sound over my head. "Let me go, you fucker!"

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Calm down. Now!"

My whole body shook as I stared at my kidnapper. "Don't do this. You're in enough trouble. Don't add this to the list."

The bartender laughed at me then sat back on my belly. "You don't get it. I'm already dead." The calm way he said it, the lack of emotion in his eyes made my blood run cold with dread. He reached out and touched my lip. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

I shook my head. "I bit my lip."

His chuckle was a mixture of mirth and insanity. "I'm HIV positive."

My breath stopped in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I didn't even blink my eyes. Then without warning, the contents of my stomach emptied itself. I barely had time to turn my head and watch as my stomach heaved its contents onto the floor. The cold, evil voice continued to talk to me. "That was a mistake. Look at what you did?"

I didn't even blink when the solid weight of his closed fist connected with my jaw. It didn't matter anymore. He took Liam from me, and possibly my own life as well. I let the blackness of oblivion take me, to take away the wave of more sorrow than I'd ever felt before.

*** Liam ***

The darkness surrounded me, took hold of me, bit me cruelly in its jaws, biting down, making the pain creep inside me, and stole my breath. I came close to the surface from time to time, but not close enough to wake, only to sense. Sometimes I felt light, other times darkness. I could hear voices, as if muffled and from far away. It was a struggle to climb out of the darkness, sometimes nearly impossible, but I kept trying, over and over, until one time, I succeeded. For only a brief time I was back, then the darkness took over again.

After trying two more times, I emerged from the black nothingness into the light. I looked around me, seeing the sterile confines of a hospital. As I looked around, I saw Claire's bowed head and Erik Johansen standing by the window, facing almost away, but staring at Claire. The need I saw in his eyes made me blush. I shifted my head towards the door, hoping to see Jackson; positive I had heard him at some point during all the confusing nothingness. I had to work three times to say Claire's name, when I did, she turned to me, her eyes tearing.

"Oh, Liam. Honey!" Her hands clasped mine, holding my hand to her. Her head turned as if involuntarily. "Erik, could you find a nurse?"

I watched as Erik left, looking at Claire. "Where's Jackson?"

Claire ducked her head. "We sent him home. He was exhausted. He hasn't left your side in days."

Days? Panic bubbled up inside me. "How long?"

Claire looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps I should let the doctor tell you."

I gripped her hand tighter in my own. "How long, Claire?" When she still looked unsure, I pressed harder. "Please?"

She swallowed audibly and nodded. "Ten days."

Ten days? I figured I must have fallen across that drug Jackson had searched for in the clubs. My God! What did it do to me? Jesus. I looked around, not wanting to remember those moments in Jackson's jeep or by the side of the road. But no matter what I did, the memories flooded in. I'd told him I loved him. I'd told him I wanted to fuck him. He agreed. He actually agreed. My face heated with embarrassment. "Have they caught the person?"

"No."

I nodded as the doctor came in. Claire and Erik were asked to step outside while the doctor examined me. He checked my blood pressure, my eyes, asked me stupid questions about my age, who the president was, etc. When he finished, he asked if I felt like standing. I nodded and tried, but found my legs didn't cooperate. I knew how to walk, even made the motions. But for some reason, everything kept misfiring in my mind, because the motions were jerky, almost as if my legs were asleep. When I lay back in the bed, the doctor touched my shoulder.

"Don't worry. This happened to the other victims. It goes away in a few days."

It was reassuring, but I still had to know. "Did anything happen to me while I was... under the influence?"

"No. Jackson brought you right here when he realized what happened. I assure you, no one got hold of you that you didn't trust."

I leaned back in the bed as Claire stuck her head back inside. "Okay, doc?"

The doctor nodded and spoke with Claire for a minute before he left. When Claire sat by me, I asked her, "Where's Erik?"

"We promised Jackson we'd let him know when you came out of it. He didn't answer his phone, so Erik went to get him."

I felt my eyebrows arch at her words. "No, honey. He's fine, just exhausted. Probably couldn't hear the phone."

I nodded and lay back, suddenly exhausted. As I drifted back into sleep, I felt Claire's hand on my shoulder. "Sleep, Liam. Jackson will be here soon."

*** Jackson ***

I woke to the taste of sheets in my mouth. My eyes blinked open and I realized I faced the mattress, lying on my belly. My arms stretched painfully above my head, still secured to the bedpost, my legs spread further apart. There was a wet, trickling sensation along my crack. I felt the asshole's fingers against my cleft, rubbing and stroking. My body tensed, fear came back to me. He was still here, still waiting to fuck me. Bullshit! The little bastard would rape me.

My mind blanked. He had worn condoms with his other victims. He'd raped them but no semen was found. Perhaps he'd wear a condom. Perhaps the small exposure he'd given me wouldn't infect me. I tilted my head, trying to see where he was, but I couldn't bend my neck far enough.

"Good, you're awake. I wouldn't want you to miss this."

I found my voice in the midst of all the panic. "Are you going to wear a condom?"

His chuckle was near maniacal. "Why should I bother now? They're looking for me. It's not like I can keep hiding forever."

At that moment, I knew that I couldn't stop him. This asshole, fuckface would rape me, probably twice, and then kill me. With a silent word of apology to Liam, I closed my eyes, and focused on anything but what would happen to me. I lost myself in memories of Liam dancing, of his smile, of his touch. I let the tears flow when I felt the bartender press against me, pushing hard. I scrunched my body tight, trying to fight it, knowing in the end, he'd win.

My own gun pressed against my temple and he leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Let me in, or your boyfriend is going to get the same, but I won't kill him. I'll let him live... with the disease."

I bit down my loathing, fear, and regret, and relaxed my body. He got ready to thrust again when the sound of knocking at my front door stopped him. "Who the fuck is that?"

Fearing for whoever could be at my door, I strained to see the clock. Nine. Too late for door to door. "I wasn't expecting anyone, but it could be one of my deputies."

"Fuck!" He pressed the gun against the back of my head. "Keep quiet, or you both die."

I nodded my understanding as he grabbed my sock off the floor and stuffed it in my mouth. As the bastard got up from the bed, I heard my door open and Erik's voice call out, "Jackson, boss man? You awake?"

The bartender lowered to my ear and whispered, "If you say one word, he dies."

I nodded again and then was left alone in the room as he slipped out the door, to scope out the hall. I worked and chewed until I could spit the sock out. "Erik! Watch out, he has a gun!"

I felt the butt of my gun smack against the back of my head and a rough curse of, "Fucker!" My world began to black out, sparkles of light and a wave of nausea hit me. I fought off the need to black out. My eyes rolled back into my skull and time seemed to flow fast then slow. I heard shuffling feet and other indistinct sounds. Thank God my stomach was already empty, because I tried to heave it all up again.

Some unknown time later, I heard a gunshot and a sickening thud against the floor. I held my breath. Oh God! Let Erik be okay. Then I heard someone approach my room. I couldn't help it; my whole body trembled. Not the asshole. Please God, no. If he killed Erik that would be two lives I'd lost because I'd screwed up. Plus, if the bartender survived, he'd be back to finish what he started.

When the hand touched my shoulder, it didn't matter how strong I thought I was. I started screaming. Hysterical, panic-filled, remorseful screams tore from my lips and reverberated against the walls. Then the hand on my shoulder shook me, and I recognized the voice speaking. "Boss man? Come back to me now. It's okay. We got him."

His voice made the darkness retreat. The panic receded. "Get me out of these things now."

Erik worked with his own keys and undid my arms. That's all I cared about for now. I rolled to my side. Erik looked at my face and winced. "Jesus, Chief. I called for backup. Paramedics should be here soon."

"Check that asshole for another key. Be careful, if he's bleeding, he's HIV positive."

The look of horror on Erik's face made my own anger deflate and a soul-draining feeling of loss and sorrow took over. "We'll find out for sure with a test." I grabbed Erik's hand and noticed the red, raw, bleeding ring on my wrist. "Is he dead?"

Erik shook his head at me. "No. Just wounded. I have him cuffed to a pipe in the bathroom."

"Good. Please find the key. I don't want the cavalry to see me in my altogether."

Erik moved quickly, stepping into the bathroom, searching the bartender. He came back with a wallet and a key. He unlocked my feet and I drew up on myself before standing and grabbing my jeans. Erik put a hand out to stop me. "You know the chain of evidence, Chief."

Fuck. He was right. I stood there, naked as I heard the sirens of other cops and the distinct wail of the aid car. "You take him, deputy. You take him to the hospital. Go with him. The first thing they do is test that fucker."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Think he tried to mess with your head?"

I sent a silent prayer skyward. "Either that or he'll face twelve counts of attempted murder to go along with the two counts of first degree murder."

Confusion etched Erik's Viking features. "But there were only thirteen victims."

I looked away, swallowing back the bile in my throat. "When they take me to the hospital, in a week, we'll know if I'm victim number twelve."

I looked back to see Erik's face soften before he schooled the look. "I'm glad I came when I did, sir."

"Why are you here?"

"Liam woke up. Claire sent me to get you. We figured you'd be conked out, so she found your key in Liam's wallet..." He left the rest unsaid. If Erik hadn't come here, I'd be a very fucked man, in more ways than one.

Then Erik's words hit me. Liam was awake. The pleasure, the wonder, the gratitude flooded my face with tears I thought I'd cried out. Silently, Erik wrapped his arms around me and let me give way for a few minutes. After a few moments, Erik pushed me back gently. "The cavalry's here boss man."

"You're right, Erik. Thanks."

"No problem. You'd do the same for me."

The next fifteen minutes went by in a blur. Medics, other police officers, and crime scene investigators came in, took over my home and then took me off to the hospital, a different one from where Liam was. I wanted so badly to go to him, but they wanted to check me out. While they were stitching the back of my head, Sam showed up.

"You caught him. Congratulations."

I looked at Sam as if he were a fucking moron. "I'd hardly say I caught him. Ten more minutes, and the asshole would have raped me."

Sam flinched away from me, looking at the wall. "He won't get away now. He's in surgery right now to remove the bullet from his shoulder." He stared straight into my eyes. "We ran a blood test on him. We'll know the results soon."

I looked straight at him, staring at him. "He didn't get to Liam did he?"

Sam looked back at me and his face softened. "No, he didn't." I let out the breath I was holding. "He means that much to you?"

"He's everything."

I stayed the night in the hospital, under observation for a possible concussion. All I wanted was to go see Liam. Erik stopped by about five that morning with a change of clothes for me and a serious expression. "What's going on, Erik?"

Erik fidgeted for a couple of moments before looking me straight in the eyes. "The mayor and city council know about what happened. They also know that you might have been exposed to HIV."

Fuck! This could ruin my career. "What are they saying?"

Erik looked away from me, went over to the window before turning around to face me. "Because you worked on this undercover job, they aren't upset, only worried."

I rolled my eyes, which caused my head to hurt. "In other words, provided I'm still negative, nothing will come of this?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders. "Pretty much."

Passing it off as something I couldn't fight, at least not until I knew one way or the other, I put it aside. "How's Liam?"

Erik grinned, but schooled it. "He's awake, but still sleeping a lot. Claire's with him now. He keeps asking for you."

I couldn't help the grin I felt. "As soon as they let me out of here, I'm there." Then I paused as the horror of what had happened came through. "He doesn't know what happened does he?"

"Hell no! Neither Claire or I wanted to tell him that."

I nodded in thanks. "Thank you. I'll tell him tomorrow."

Erik left me to go to work. I showered and dressed, avoiding the mirror. I didn't need to see my reflection to know I looked like hell. Once the doctor signed me out, I was out the door and hailed a cab. I made it to Liam's hospital in less than twenty minutes. I practically ran up the stairs to see him. When I got to the door, I saw him lying on the bed on his side, facing the window. My heart nearly burst with all the love I felt for him. But when I saw the monitors still hooked up to him, I paused. What if I really were sick? What if I had contracted HIV?

It killed me inside. I actually felt something die inside me, because I knew I'd let him go. I had to let him go. He wanted a family and kids. It no longer freaked me out, it really didn't. But now, how could I join him in his dream? Stealing myself, blocking out the pain, willing the tears pooling in my eyes to go away, I went and sat by his bed, watching him while he slept and took those last moments before he would no longer be a part of my life.

*** Liam ***

I slowly woke to the bright sunrise, staring at the window. I blinked my eyes against the harsh light until they focused. When I could make out distinct items, I narrowed in on the one thing I wanted to see: Jackson. He sat next to my bed, tears in his eyes. Then I noticed the dark bruise on his cheek, the swollen lip, and exhausted features. "What happened to you?"