Page 62 of Agony

Fisher swallowed through his suddenly tight throat.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

Those fuckers.

Solomon had Boston out there killing people and Tanis had done unspeakable…

Fisher clenched his teeth fighting off the memories. “How long were you with Tanis?”

Boston’s eyes went wide and he rolled off the bed before Fisher could blink and raced to the door.

“You don’t have to run anymore.”

Reaching for the knob, the teenager stopped, chest heaving, breath rasping.

“I’m not here to take you back to Tanis. And I sure the fuck will put a bullet in his head when I find him.”

Boston slowly turned around and Fisher sat up on the side of the bed. He checked his weapon before sliding it back into his custom-made back holster.

“What about Blue? Will you kill him too?”

The wobble in Boston’s voice was telling when he spoke of the other sexual predator. Blue was as good as dead.

“Yes.” When Boston ducked his head, Fisher stood from the bed. “You want to get out of here? You want to get and stay clean?”

“I don’t use drugs.” Boston’s hands fisted.

“You’re braver than I am, kid.” He rubbed his hands quickly down his face and shook off the cobwebs.

“Drugs don’t make anything better.”

Fisher smirked. “Wise words.”

It was dark by the time Fisher drove down a cracked and cratered street and parked his loaner car against the curb.

“We’re here,” he told Boston softly and got out.

Leaving his vehicle, he pulled up the hood of his black sweatshirt and Boston did the same before they made their way over the rocky sidewalk. Roots had pushed up between the seams and the city hadn’t bothered to fix them.

That wasn’t the only thing the city didn’t care about in this neighborhood—most of the yards were overgrown and several had junk cars and torn-apart motorcycle parts stacked up against paint-peeled garage doors.

With Boston at his side, Fisher turned down the next block over and walked down the alley where backyards sat behind brick walls and chain-link fences.

Reaching a concrete wall, he took a running jump and pulled himself up to the top. Glancing down at Boston, he waited.

The youth leaped upward.

Boston was agile and quick and balanced at the top of the wall with zero effort.

From there, Fisher jumped down into the backyard and Boston followed.

Landing lightly in the tall grass, he made his way through the overgrowth and onto the back porch.

“They might be a bit scared at first,” Fisher warned and lifted his hand, but before he could knock, the door was thrown open and fifty-five pounds of giggling boy crashed into him.

“I knew you would make it! Where’s Rogue?”

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