Hell To Pay

Chapter 2: Rock Bottom

Flint pushed up the skirt of the little redhead he'd convinced himself was worth the time tonight. It was all lies and bullshit about carpets matching drapes as he pried it up and found her lacking any undergarment. The curls at the juncture of her legs were not the same red shade as her head. Didn't matter, every woman was beautiful and worth his time. "Hell yeah," he murmured and she hitched her leg around his waist.

"Fuck me hard." Her teeth snaked around his lower lip, biting just hard enough to make it pinch without bleeding. He gave her a low growl as the bathroom door opened and his lips descended on hers. She moaned against his mouth as he rocked his hips against hers but when she tried to reach for his pants he snagged her wrists and pinned them above her head.

"Hey, dude, you're blocking the urinal." He felt a light kick at his foot and glanced over at the drunk bastard that interrupted him, but the fucker was so far past done he didn't know how he stayed on his feet. His eyes were a bleary red, he wavered in place, and he reeked of more alcohol than a distillery. Flint took pity on him and slid his foot forward out of the way and hoisted his chick with mix-n-matched carpet and drapes off the ground. She giggled with glee, clinging to her new ride as he took her to the other wall and pressed her back into it.

Maybe pressed was too gentle of a word, but she gave him a moan that he felt go through him all the way down to his cock. She just had her feet back on the ground and he was undoing his pants when the door opened again. He wouldn't have given it two seconds of his thoughts except a voice boomed through the small room.

"Flint Emerson?"

Fuck! He ignored the voice and hiked her skirt higher. Flint's not here. He pushed both of her hands into the wall, holding them in place.

"Sergeant Flint Emerson?"

Go away you son of a bitch, I'm busy. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she ground herself against him, begging for more.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Flint." Shit. He knew that second voice. Footsteps drew closer and he quit kissing Mix-n-Match, glowering at the wall as Lyle Tannen walked right up to his shoulder.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" He finally spoke, voice tight as Mix-n-Match stared quizzically.

"Aren't hookers beneath you?"

She gave an indignant squeal at the insult, but Flint just said, "Nah, sometimes they're on top of me." He was still staring at the wall as she started wiggling to get her legs down and he released her hands.

"Do yourself a favor and go home, sweet cheeks." Lyle told her and she glanced at the men behind him before looking up at him.

"Are you some sort of criminal?"

Several people behind him snorted. Just how many fuck-faces had Lyle brought to get his ass? Was that really necessary? "Go." He hissed and she cringed back at his harsh word and scrambled. He still had both hands on the wall, his dick aching, furious, as he finally looked at Lyle. "You gonna jerk me off since you ran off my pussy?"

"Fuck you, asshole." Lyle looked vaguely amused but the serious glint in his eyes told him something serious had happened. "Let's walk."

"Let's not." He emphasized and glanced down at the bulge in his pants. Lyle took the hint by dismissing it and clasping his arm around his shoulders and forcing him to move. He wheeled around easily enough and internally grimaced at the show they were putting on for four other operatives. "Never go anywhere without the squad, eh?"

"And you never go anywhere without diving into the local slut bar."

"You call them sluts, I call them a good time."

"To-mah-toe, to-may-toe."

"Meh, potatoes are better." He walked him outside and things got worse as Flint realized they had a convoy waiting for him. "What's the point of getting leave if you just come pick me up every time there's a problem?"

"Flint, this is different."

"What happened? The president stub his toe?"

"You're not funny." The vehicle door opened and he planted his feet. "Come on."

"I'm not getting in there. I have thirty days left of leave and a truck-" he broke off as his truck went revving past him. "No, no! You fuckers!" He grabbed Lyle by the shirt, glaring down at him. "Fuck this, man! Get out of here. And bring my truck back."

"No." Lyle shook his head, "Get in the car, I'll explain."

"To hell with all of you. Where are you taking my truck?"

"To your place for you."

He snorted in disapproval. "The big dicks upstairs can't do anything without me around, can they? Listen, I took bullets for you people and this is how you treat me?"

"I get it, bro, you almost died, shit went south real fast, but you're going to want to be on this case. You can't stay on medical leave forever."

Flint cursed him. The bastard didn't know, he wasn't there. He sure as hell could stay on medical leave if he tried. "Tell Special Forces X to suck my dick. I'm still on leave." Lyle just stared at him with an odd look and it actually made him falter. The patience game started up as they stared each other down. He had two inches on Lyle and crossed his arms, flexing to try and make himself look bigger, trying to intimidate the scrawny fucker as it started to sprinkle rain on their heads. He took it as a bad sign and, as always, Lyle's patience was better than his. "Fine!" He snapped. Lyle motioned to the car with no victory grin. "Nope, I'm not getting in until you tell me what's going on."

"Get in the car, Flint."

"Tell me why you need me back when there's so many other operatives they can choose from."

"I'll tell you in the car. Trust me, you'll want to know this."

"I trust you as far as I can throw this car." Which wasn't at all. There was no way in hell he was going back to work after the fucking failure he'd made of himself last time. His mission had completely bottomed out. Rock bottom was a place he knew well.

Lyle sighed in defeat and bowed his head for a long moment before he faced him. "Harper's missing. Good enough reason for you? Now get in the fucking car."

Flint stared at him, his heart abruptly skipping. No way in hell did he hear that right. Fury curled through him and he tensed every muscle in his body, staring him down before he couldn't hold it in and slammed his fist forward. Lyle cried out as he hit the mud, grabbing his face as the men with him looked on, eyes wide. They didn't know if they should do something or not.

"You fucking shit, you should have started with that!" He shouted down at him. "How the hell could you lose Harper?"

"Flint-"

"Is she alive? Dead? Do you even know? I swear if she's hurt-"

"You'll punch me again?" Lyle clambered to his feet, rubbing his jaw. "You bastard that hurt!"

"Oh man up and get in the car." He crawled into the backseat, his blood roaring. Whatever was going on, whoever hurt her...he couldn't think about it. His fists curled, but guilt swirled in his gut. I should have been there for her. After the mission went bad, he'd just left. He should have stayed with her, helped her through Mac's death.

He'd been too scared to face her. Too scared to say 'it was my fault.' One thing was certain, when he found her she was going to kill him for running off.