Lunatic - Necessary Evils #6 - Ch. 10 (Patreon)

Mac (Loosely edited)

With Archer’s brother and his—fiance?—gone, the mood lightened slightly, though the three people perched on the table still glared at him. Mac assumed this was the ‘feelings faction’ of the family who Archer had insisted would attempt to recruit him. He was willing to go out on a limb and say he’d been permanently blackballed from membership now simply by association with his gorgeous but deceptive husband.

Mac’s brain snagged on that thought and held. Husband. That still didn’t feel real.

Archer made quick work of the official introductions, then walked to the now empty seat and offered it to his mother, who took it gratefully, turning to study August like she was finally getting an up-close look at a famous sculpture or museum painting. When he turned and gave her a rather chilling smile, she returned it, but didn’t break eye contact. Mac had to suppress a laugh as August’s smile faltered. Leave it to his mother to unsettle a sadist.

August Mulvaney definitely wasn’t his mother’s first face to face with a psychopath. But he was certainly her most fascinating subject on paper. She’d followed him from the beginning of Thomas’s research and now she gazed at him with all the chill and finesse of a fangirl meeting her idol.

Why couldn’t his mom play bridge like other people’s instead of staring dreamily at sadistic psychopaths? He looked at Archer, acknowledging that he’d stared dreamily at this particular psychopath more than once. So maybe the hypocritical apple didn’t fall far from the psycho-loving tree.

Before he could dig too deeply into what that meant for Mac long term, Thomas cleared his throat. “We have a situation we need to deal with. There’s been two attempts made on Mac’s life in the last month alone. Hired professionals. Poorly trained, but pros nonetheless. So if you’re staying, you’re helping. If you want to see yourselves out, do so now. The personal Q&A session has officially closed. We’re moving onto business.”

Those around the table looked at each other, but only the woman perched on the table hopped to her feet. “I have two babies waiting for me in the nursery. I’ll show myself out. Good luck finding your hitmen,” she said without a trace of humor.

She was clearly used to the family antics. “Who is she?” Mac whispered.

“Lucas and August’s baby mama,” Archer said. “She’s family.”

Mac gave a single nod. He was going to need pen and paper to keep all of these people straight. There were at least fifteen people in Archer’s immediate family alone, not counting the babies the girl had just mentioned. The thought of August Mulvaney raising a child, much less two, was wild. Mac was surprised his mother hadn’t demanded an audience with the girls yet.

“Let’s go, Calliope,” Thomas said, his tone implying he had not forgotten she was responsible for the ambush they’d just endured.

There was a sigh over the speaker when a picture popped up on screen. Mac’s photo. The one of the three men who had tried to kill him that day. They were all so forgettable.

“What are we looking at, Calliope?” Atticus asked.

“One of the pictures Mac took when he was at Big Bend near the border. When those three men noticed him with a camera, they tried to kill him. Did I get that right?” Calliope asked.

Mac nodded. “Yeah. At first we all just sort of looked at each other, surprised to see anybody in such an isolated part of the park, but they saw my camera about the same time I noticed two of them carried assault rifles.”

“Don’t they just issue assault rifles to people when they move to Texas?” Felix asked with an eye roll. “Like a welcome gift?”

“Yeah, it's kind of weird that they would freak out about you photographing them holding guns in Texas,” Zane agreed, frowning at the pic.

“I don’t think the guns were what they were worried about him photographing,” Calliope said.

As they watched the screen zeroed in on a small patch at the bottom of the screen, blurring and clearing over and over as she continued to enhance the image. When it finally sharpened for the last time, the group found themselves staring at a pair of shoes. Well, cowboy boots. Cowboy boots in a horizontal position. Someone was lying in the grass at their feet.

“Mac stumbled onto what? An execution?” Atticus asked.

“I believe so, yeah.”

“Okay, so I get that gunning down a man in the middle of a national park is bad but bad enough to hire hitmen to cover this up? The time and expense to track down Archer’s husband—God, that’s so weird—and send pro’s to take him out seems excessive,” Zane said.

“Not really. I checked into the park so the rangers would know where to look for me if I didn’t report back within my window. They wouldn’t have to work hard to know where to look for me. I have a rather distinctive look, clearly.”

“Not that distinctive,” Atticus muttered, leveling a narrow eyed stare at his husband, who didn’t seem to notice right away, but when he did, he grinned.

“Don’t be jealous, freckles. You’re the only redhead I see,” the man—Jericho—said, smacking a kiss on his cheek.

Mac got to watch the older man turn red to the tips of his ears before mumbling, “Better be.”

Mac’s mother looked like she was seconds away from pulling out her notebook, he just didn’t know if it would be to take notes or ask for autographs. The woman looked positively star-struck.

Still, she was the one to say, “But when you went to the cops, they blew you off.” To the others, she pointed to the man in the middle. “That guy there, he’s the commissioner for border patrol. There’s no way he wouldn’t be able to track down my son, but he’d also know that the cops had basically told him that it was likely a misunderstanding. So why are they still coming after him?”

“Some people really hate loose ends,” Asa said.

“Yeah, especially when they have something to lose.”

“I might have an answer for that,” Calliope said. “Well, partially. Okay, so more like an answer that just causes a lot more quest—”

“Calliope,” Thomas snapped, cutting her off.

“Geez, alright, getting to the point,” she said almost to herself. “Like Molly said, the man in the middle is Judd Dunnigan, the commissioner for Texas border patrol. But this man here? His name is Ronald Egan. And he’s the head preacher of a rapidly growing sect of evangelical whack jobs out of Texas who are pushing some extremely radical viewpoints right now.”

“Have you seen the state of our country? Be specific,” Asa said.

She sighed. “Some of the highlights include gay people aren’t human, women should still be burned at the stake, reptilian lizard people are controlling our government and minorities are the devil. You know, all the ‘50s greatest hits.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “I mean, he sounds like a piece of shit, but politically speaking, he’s hardly a lone wolf when it comes to shitty hot takes.”

“I think you’re focusing on the wrong thing here,” Jericho said. “The question is why is the head of the border patrol meeting up with some militant anti-minority zealot and what does it have to do with the corpse at their feet.”

Calliope scoffed. “Oh, it gets weirder. I haven’t introduced contestant number three. Eric Rapke. Attorney-at-Law.”

“What kind of attorney?” Lucas asked.

“Immigration,” Calliope said, tone grim.

Mac gripped Archer tighter instinctively, warmth blooming in his belly when he just let Mac hold him closer. “An immigration attorney, the border patrol commissioner and a racist preacher meeting in the middle of the park with assault rifles. What the fuck is happening?”

“Well hold onto your butts because I am almost positive, I’ve tracked down the owner of those garish cowboy boots pointing towards the sky,” Calliope said. A picture of a bloated purple faced man appeared on the screen beside an evidence bag containing those very same ugly cowboy boots. “They fished this guy out of the river a couple days after Mac took this picture.”

“Who is he?” Mac asked.

“Ford Harvey, former head of a border shelter where they were detaining immigrants who came over the border illegally,” Calliope said.

“Do you think we’re dealing with cowboy commandos?” Jericho asked.

“With what?” Zane asked.

Mac had never heard the term either, but one look at Jericho’s face and Mac knew he wasn’t going to like whatever the man said next. This was a fucking nightmare.

“There’s men who like to cosplay as border patrol. You know the type. They go out fully armed, dressed like toy soldiers, looking for border crossers and coyotes. If they can’t find them, they try to destroy things that might help them. Smash water bottles, destroy food left for them, get rid of blankets. If they do find them, then they’ll beat them up or kill them. I won’t even go into what these fuckers do to women,” Jericho muttered.

“Can we just ice these three and call it a day?” August asked. “No money for a hit. Hit canceled. Our newest family member is free to continue to go on corrupting future generations with Archer. Problem solved.”

“Here’s the thing,” Calliope said. “When was the last time people in these positions were the lackeys? The higher ups don’t do their own kills. Do you think whatever these guys are up to will stop with them?”

“I think the crisis at the border is probably too big a problem even for us,” Zane said.

“Yeah, maybe dad could call his top secret military friends and ask them to handle it?” Avi said with a smirk.

“Enough,” Thomas said, sounding more tired than anything.

“We can’t just forget about this, right?” Felix said. “Like, our dad was from Mexico. He was here legally and still had to deal with guys like this all the time. We’re not actually saying we’re going to do nothing.”

“Felix is right. There’s so many questions,” Zane added. “What did they need with access to ICE detainee camps? Why is the head of border patrol working with an immigration attorney who is supposed to be helping these people? This has to go deeper than just a bunch of cowboys, right?”

They all looked to Thomas who sighed. Thomas looked at Mac. “I leave the decision to you. Eliminate the immediate threat and leave it or follow the breadcrumbs and see where they lead?”

What did Mac say to that? He wanted the threat eliminated. Nobody wanted to be a target, but those four people having been in close proximity to each other carried horrifying implications. There was something inherently sinister about a group of men with that much power congregating together in an area where their victim pool would be plentiful and vulnerable.

Mac hooked his chin over Archer’s shoulder, murmuring, “What do I do?”

Archer tipped his head, rubbing his cheek against Mac’s. “I am pretty sure you already know the answer to this one.”

Archer was right. Mac sighed. “Let’s dig into it. We need to know where this leads, even if it's nowhere.”

“Where do we start?” August asked.

Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face. “Mac and Archer can head to Texas. Calliope, you know what to do. I want a deep dive on all four of these men. We know at least one of them is an extremist with racist ideologies, if they’re up to something shady together, there’s a good chance they share his views. Let’s see how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

Calliope was already typing fiercely. “Got it.”

“Good. The rest of you are on standby. If this is some kind of cowboy commando situation, eliminating the threat is going to take a multi-tiered approach”

“Well I guess it's a good thing our father has high-level government connections,” Atticus muttered, tone sulky.

Asa rolled his eyes. “Let it go, Elsa.”

“Bite me,” Atticus shot back.

Asa bared his teeth like a rabid dog, which only seemed to irritate Atticus further. It was Jericho who patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, freckles. He’s just trying to piss you off.”

Atticus crossed his arms over this chest. “Fine, whatever. It was still a dick move.”

“Agreed,” the other brothers said in tandem.

Thomas closed his eyes like he was praying for patience, then looked at Mac and Archer. “You guys fly out tonight. I’ll have the jet on standby. Keep a low profile. We don’t want to spook these guys before we’re ready and if you end up back in Texas they’re going to know something’s up and take advantage. Head on a swivel. Got it?”

Mac and Archer both nodded. “Yeah, we got it.”

###

Thomas left a car for them at the airport, a utilitarian Jeep Wrangler fully gassed and ready to go. Mac took the wheel again, with Archer seemingly content to hold his hand and gaze out the window into the night sky. Calliope had dropped a pin to their rental in Terlingua, but had said nothing else about the accommodations.

It was probably for the best. Burner phone or not, the least they spoke about locations, the better. It hardly mattered. At this point, Mac and Archer probably would have slept in a hole in the ground as long as they didn’t have to dig it themselves.

The day had dragged on, Mac’s hangover and lack of sleep making him feel like he’d rinsed his eyes with acid and dried them with sandpaper. Even on the jet, they’d only managed a few hours of sleep on the short flight, before having to drag themselves to consciousness for another drive across another desert.

After making a quick stop at a twenty-four hour convenience store, they found the property Calliope had reserved. It was, for all intents and purposes, in the middle of nowhere. They passed a small rickety fence good for nothing more than to mark the property line, then pulled up to an adobe home built directly into the side of the mountain.

A sign on the property claimed the house was located in the Terlingua ghost town. Mac hoped those ghosts were willing to take the night off because he was too tired for rattling chains or floating books or whatever desert ghosts did to harass the living. He took the bags from the car, dragging an exhausted Archer behind him, dropping his hand long enough to enter the combination on the keypad attached to the front door, dropping everything but the groceries just inside.

There was a small kitchen to the right and a dining room table to the left. Further in was a living room with three closed doors. As long as there was a bed behind one and a bathroom behind the other, this place was the Four Seasons as far as Mac was concerned.

He set the food on the counter, then turned to Archer, wrapping his arms around him, smiling when Archer snuggled deeper. Was this truly the same man who had fought him every fucking step of the way for months? “Do you want to shower first or eat?” he asked Archer.

“Sleep. I want sleep first,” Archer said, even as he worked his nose under the collar of Mac’s shirt to press his lips to his throat.

“You need to eat something or you’ll wake up starving in three hours,” Mac said, pulling him towards the table, pulling out a chair and pressing on his shoulders, forcing him to sit.

The fare at the convenience store had been somewhat limited, so they’d grabbed pre-made sandwiches that looked as appetizing as mayonnaise covered cardboard, some chips and a few bottles of water. They’d get real food in the morning after they’d scoped out the property and Calliope had some intel on their targets.

Mac took the food from the bags and placed it in front of Archer who stared at it grimly. When he made no attempt to eat, Mac sat beside him and calmly unwrapped the sandwich, tearing a piece off and holding to his lips. Archer scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Mac rolled his eyes. “I will hold you down and force feed this to you, Katniss.” Archer snorted, but Mac just stared him down. “Try me.”

Archer studied Mac like he wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Mac arched a brow. “Open up.”

Archer glowered at him, but finally relented, taking the offered bite and chewing sullenly. Mac had to fight the urge to laugh. This was yet another side to Archer. He’d met the gambler. The killer. The reluctant object of Mac’s affection. Now he was meeting the toddler who just wanted Mac to baby him a little. That was fine by him.

Mac fed himself in between the bites he gave Archer, then cleaned up the mess they made. They showered together, exchanging lazy kisses and lazier hand jobs, then fell asleep naked and still slightly damp.

It was the silence that woke him. He’d fallen asleep to the sound of Archer snoring. Now there was nothing. He felt for him on the bed beside him but it was only empty space. He listened, wondering if he was in the kitchen or the bathroom, but when he heard nothing, he stood, walking naked to the bedroom door, searching the house. With every empty room, his heart rate ratcheted higher, his pace increasing.

He grabbed sweatpants from his bag, shoving his legs into them, pushing his feet into sneakers even as he dragged a hoodie over his head. He used his phone as a flashlight, but grabbed the gun from his bag on the way out the front door.

Outside was pitch black. There was an overhang with a small fire pit and two chairs, but they were empty. Mac kept his weapon at his side as he prowled the perimeter of the property, some of the tension leaving him when he noticed the jeep still there.

Mac rounded the corner of the property and stopped short when he saw the light of a cell phone. Something unclenched inside him. Archer lay on top of a freestanding wooden platform, only the faint outline of his silhouette visible.

Mac sighed, his heartbeat finally starting to regulate as he walked to the platform and climbed up the ladder. Archer had made himself a nest of sorts with blankets and pillows. “You scared the shit out of me, Katniss.”

Archer reached up and grabbed his empty hand, tugging him down. “Sorry. I just…couldn’t sleep. Well, I couldn’t stay asleep anyway.”

Mac frowned as he sat. “Why?”

Archer sighed. “I don’t like you being here.”

Mac felt his words like a kick to the stomach. “Wow. Is that any way to talk on your honeymoon?” Mac asked, trying for humor, but feeling a bit like he wanted to cry.

Archer looked at him in confusion. “What?”

Mac had supposed it was too much to ask that Archer who had fought him every step of the way would suddenly just slip into their marriage like it was nothing, but still, he hadn’t expected his bluntness to hurt so much. “I know being with someone all the time is probably new—”

Archer frowned. “Don’t be stupid. I didn’t mean I don’t like being here with you. I mean I don’t like you being so close to the people trying to kill you. It fills me with this weird…something. The thought of you being in their crosshairs makes me feel like I can’t breathe a little, like I’m having a heart attack or being pressed to death.”

Mac was starting to relate. His own heart felt like it now lived in his throat. Archer was so good at playing the part of a neurotypical person, that sometimes Mac forgot things like fear and worry and concern were completely foreign to him. But he felt those things for Mac and that terrified him a little in the best possible way.

He laid down beside him, burrowing under the covers and snaking his arm beneath Archer’s head. “Nobody even knows we’re here yet.”

“They’ve already tried to kill you twice. If I had woken up even ten seconds late yesterday, you wouldn’t even be here,” Archer said, his voice pained and full of something akin to confusion. “You would just no longer exist in my world. In any world. And I don’t know what to do with that knowledge.”

Mac rubbed his nose against Archer’s hair. “But you did wake up.”

“But what if next time I don’t?” Archer asked, shaking his head.

Was his murderous husband really out there staring at the stars, moping about how precious life was? Why did that make Mac both incredibly sad but also impossibly happy? He dropped a kiss on his temple.

It was strange to feel like he knew Archer so well while hardly knowing him at all. Was it possible to understand someone at an atomic level? To feel like the way your energies synced bypassed all the bullshit that couples eventually came to hate about each other?

Because that’s what it felt like with Archer. Every single day the man surprised him. It was like he had a million different facets that he showed to Mac sparingly, but Mac felt like he understood Archer better than anyone in the world, even his own family. Or maybe he was just stupidly in love and not thinking clearly at all.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Mac said. “But I would hate to leave you behind just when I finally managed to get you to stop hating me.”

Archer scoffed. “I never hated you. And you knew that. Which only made how much I wanted you even more irritating.”

Mac hid his smile against Archer’s hair. “How badly did you want me, Katniss?”

Archer curled into him, his cheek resting on Archer’s bicep. “Bad enough that I put aside years of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, for one night of being exactly who I wanted to be for you,” he admitted, voice muffled.

Unguarded Archer was lethal, his words landing with maximum force on Mac’s heart. “You can’t just say shit like that without warning me.”

Archer’s hand snaked up under Mac’s hoodie, his fingers following the knobs of his spine, his words barely there as he said, “I’ve spent so much time playing this part for the world. And I stayed in it because it was easy. It was comfortable and safe and mine. But now I have you. I have this. And I am so addicted to…us…that keeping you alive feels selfish. If anything happens to you, nothing will fix the hole you leave behind.”

Mac couldn’t breathe from the weight of Archer’s whispered confession. He didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t say anything. He rolled on top of him, threading his fingers in his hair to tilt his head, capturing his mouth in a kiss he hoped conveyed every thought and feeling he was choking on in that moment.

Archer’s arms came around him, his legs hooking over Mac’s hips. He could feel Archer’s cock hardening against his, couldn’t stop himself from rolling his hips, groaning at the friction. Archer’s hands slid into Mac’s sweatpants, gripping his ass to pull him against him, until they were both moaning into each other's mouths.

Mac couldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t stop himself from grinding against him like they were two teens making out in the back of a car. He couldn’t stop, not even to push their clothes out of the way. He didn’t want to let him go. He couldn’t let go. Archer’s hands spurred him on, his hips rising to meet him, until they weren’t even kissing, just panting against each other’s skin, both of them nearing the point of no return.

When his orgasm hit, he tightened his grip on Archer’s hair, burying his face against his neck, unable to stop himself from rasping, “Fuck, I love you,” against his skin.

Archer’s blunt nails dug into Mac’s ass as he continued to work himself against him a few more times before his breath punched from him in a shocky gasp  and he hid his face against Mac’s chest.

They just laid like that for a while, sweat chilling on the back of Mac’s neck in the cool desert air.

Finally, Archer said, “I think I love you, too. That’s what scares me.”

Mac wanted to tell him not to be afraid. But that seemed stupid after two death threats. Their entire lives revolved around danger. It just did. Archer led a double life. He killed people—bad people—for a living. There was no guarantee they’d grow old together. But deep down, in the core of his being, Mac knew they would be okay somehow. But he didn’t know how to explain that to his husband.

He rolled back onto his side, pulling Archer with him, tucking him under his chin. Overhead the sky was just starting to turn, no longer a deep indigo, but also not the peachy pink of dawn. They laid there until the sun arrived, Archer dozing off and on.

“Statistically speaking, in our line of work, our life expectancy is fairly limited. I don’t think we can expect the fairy tale happily ever after,” Mac finally said softly, not even sure Archer was awake enough to hear him.

“Wow, you should be a motivational speaker,” he muttered against his chest, poking him in the ribs.

Mac grinned. “That being said, we have recently landed ourselves a pretty cozy gig babysitting a bunch of murderous one-percenters. It’s not exactly a dragon and a mote, but armed military personnel are pretty close.”