Witness

Chapter 1It was a few minutes after two A.M. on a Friday morning, and Russ was almost to the homeless encampment where he had found shelter of a sort from the streets. He saw it, half a block ahead of him, ragged tents interspersed with people in sleeping bags, their few possessions in backpacks they used as pillows to keep them from being stolen—or so they hoped. He knew that feeling well. What little he owned was in his pack, with a well-used sleeping bag strapped to it. The people who did have tents were better off, if one could call it that, because their possessions, and they owned more than guys like him, were relatively safe from thieves. The encampment was far from an ideal solution for the homeless, but it beat the hell out of crashing in alleys or along Cherry Creek where punks who got off on attacking them lurked. Where cops patrolled, rousting them out after ordering them to find somewhere else to sleep. He moved carefully, staying away from the light cast by the lone streetlight on the corner of the block. There were also porch lights from the row houses across from where the encampment had been set up on the verge between the sidewalk and the street. The owners kept them on in the hope they would deter anyone living at the encampment from trying to break in. He avoided those lights as well. Russ was almost to the spot he thought of as his when he heard angry voices. Muted, but definitely angry. He froze where he was, trying to locate the source, homing in on one of the tents a few yards away. His first guess was the dude who owned it was having an argument with one of the people who bought drugs from him. There were several guys like him in the encampment, smalltime dealers who preyed on the less fortunate, selling them what they needed to keep the horrors of their lives at bay. Suddenly, there was the sound of something hitting flesh followed by a cry of pain, quickly silenced. Then, two men appeared, heading in Russ’s direction. One held a bat, the other a knife that he wiped on his pants. Russ tried to duck into the shadow of a tree but it was too late, they saw him—and he saw them, their faces momentarily lit by the porch light of the house behind him. “We have to get him, now!” the man with the knife told his companion as they ran toward Russ. Russ wasn’t about to let that happen. He spun around, racing away from the encampment as fast as he could, dashing across Broadway into the residential neighborhood on the far side. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and knew he had to find somewhere to hide. But where? If he ran down an alley he’d be a sitting duck because they’d see him and follow. If he tried knocking on one of the doors, they’d see that and grab him before anyone answered. He dashed between some houses to the next block. They followed without hesitation. He crossed a street into the deep shadows between another set of houses. They were still there, although a bit farther back. He searched for somewhere to hide, behind a garage or a toolshed, but if they spotted him…He shuddered at the idea and kept running. His calves burned and his lungs felt as if they couldn’t suck in enough air. He was gasping for breath when he hit the corner of Bannock and Byers. Suddenly, safety appeared ahead of him—the well-lit entrance of what had once been a house but was now, he knew, a nightclub. With his reserves of strength almost gone, he forced himself to run up the two steps from the street, push open the gate to the path leading to the front door of the club, and then to climb the stairs to the porch, where he came face-to-face with a burly man seated on a stool by the open door. “Hang on, kid,” the man said, stepping in front of him. “Show me some ID. Or not,” the man added when he looked at Russ. “I don’t know where you think you’re going but…” “Please…help…” Russ managed to say, looking fearfully over his shoulder. He could see the two men across the street, heading toward him. The doorman must have seen them too, because he asked, “Are they after you?” Russ nodded hard, trying to get past him. The man gripped his shoulder, pushing Russ behind him. Then, arms akimbo, he blocked the doorway. Not hard to do given his size. Moments later, the man said, “All clear, but I’m not sending you out there. Go find a seat at the bar. Tell them Cal said it was okay.” Swallowing hard, trying to gain some modicum of calm, Russ did as he’d been told. There was an empty stool at the far end, well away from the door. He slid onto it, wiping what sweat he could from his face with the back of his hand while waiting for someone to order him to move. Instead, one of the bartenders, a man in his mid to late twenties, Russ thought, with very dark blond hair, a mustache, and a short beard came over, saying with a smile, “Since Cal let you in, I figure you’re old enough to drink, so…” “I…No. He said to tell you it was okay if I sat here but…” Russ chewed his lip. “I can’t afford…” “From the look of you I figured as much.” The man glanced toward the front entry and nodded. “How about water?” “Please.” He left, coming back a moment later with a tall glass of ice water which he set down in front of Russ, and a bar towel that he handed him. “You look like you’ve been running a marathon.” Russ thanked him, using the towel to wipe his face dry, and then gulped down half the water. “Take it slow,” someone said from behind him. “I don’t feel like calling 911 because you pass out.” Russ spun around and found he was facing a handsome, dark-haired man who was probably ten years older than his twenty-two. “I don’t think that could happen,” he replied, unsure if it was possible. “Probably not,” the man agreed. “Marcus, could you check the kitchen and ask Wally if there’s anything left to feed our friend here?” “You bet, Jules.” Marcus left and the man he’d called Jules took the stool next to Russ. “Cal said you had some punks chasing you.” “I’m not sure that’s what they were. I…” Russ sucked in a breath. “I think they maybe killed someone and they think I saw it, or them, and they were going to do something about it and…” His words petered out as he realized what he was saying. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought it as he was trying to get away from them, but thinking and voicing were two different things. Saying it out loud made it real, he guessed. “Okay. Start at the beginning. No, don’t. Wait until we get upstairs. The place is pretty empty, but still.” Jules nodded toward the four men seated farther down the bar. “Upstairs?” Russ wasn’t certain what he thought of that idea. If he went up with Jules and he wasn’t what he seemed, he could be trapped with nowhere to go. Jules must have figured out Russ wasn’t thrilled by the idea. “Don’t worry, I’m not after your body. I have one of my own and I’m faithful to him. And,” he chuckled, “I’m not a slaver, either, so you’re safe.” “So you say,” Russ murmured under his breath as he glanced toward the front door again. “Cal won’t let them in. Trust me on that.” * * * * Jules watched the play of emotions that crossed the young man’s face, fear, hope, distrust in spite of what he’d told him. He realized that he hadn’t asked his name, so he did. “Russ, just Russ.” He speared his fingers through his long, curly auburn hair to pull it back from his face. Whether it was a habit or because it gave him something to do, Jules didn’t know at this point. “Okay, Russ. I get that you don’t have much reason to trust what I’ve said but I think we’re a better option than what you’ll face if you decide to get out of here.” Russ, looked at him with a weak, fearful smile. “Probably.” Jules chucked. “Well, that’s a start. Take your time to decide while you eat. If I had to guess, it’s been a while since you’ve had a decent meal.” He gestured to the plate Marcus put down on the bar. “It has,” Russ agreed, hungrily eyeing the thick sandwich and a bag of chips. “Then eat while I take care of business.” Jules left, smiling when he heard Marcus say, “Eat. Boss’s orders,” and Russ reply, “He owns the club?” “Okay, details,” Jules said, joining Cal at the front door. He still kept an eye on Russ, glad to see he seemed to have relaxed enough to shuck off his backpack and put it on the floor by his stool before he began to eat. “About the kid?” “Yep. His name’s Russ, by the way. At least that’s what he said. Who knows if it’s true, since it’s pretty obvious he’s been living on the streets for a while.” “No s**t. I saw him running like the devil was after him, with two guys right on his tail. He made a dash up here; they stopped on the sidewalk out front. He said they were after him, which was damned obvious, so I figured he’d be safer in here for now.” “Did you get a good look at them?” Cal shook his head. “Not really. One tall, one a bit shorter, dressed in jeans and shirts but not like they’ve been living in them for a week, if you get what I’m saying.” “I do. Hair?” “They had some.” Cal grinned. “One dark, one blond. Would I know them if I saw them again? That’s iffy. My guess is Russ would, though.” “I think so. Russ said he thinks they killed someone and they believe he’s a witness.” “That would definitely give them a reason to go after him.” “Oh, yeah.” Jules started to turn away, then he saw Eddie coming up the front walk. “What are you doing here?” he asked his lover. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured what the hell, I’d come bother you instead of watching some bad movie until you got home.” He kissed Jules then asked, after taking a long look at him and Cal, “Problems?” “Hard to tell,” Jules replied, and then gave him a quick synopsis of what was going on. “Hell,” Eddie said when Jules finished. “That sounds a bit too familiar. Not quite like what happened to me, but you get what I’m saying.” Jules did. They had met when Eddie was running for his life from an unknown assailant who had been after him for more than two years. It had taken the help of Jules and his friends to keep him safe and stop the man before he succeeded in killing him. “We’re going to help Russ, right?” Eddie asked. “If he’ll let us.” Cal smiled briefly. “I don’t think he’s got much choice in the matter.” “We have to convince him of that, though,” Jules said. “Right now he seems to be torn between trusting me or not.” “Then let’s double team him. At least get him to move upstairs where they can’t see him through a window or the open door.” Eddie headed to the bar as he spoke, with Jules right behind him. * * * * Russ finished the sandwich and was working on the chips when Jules came back, followed by a guy with long, brown hair who Jules introduced as, “Eddie, my partner.” “In the club?” “Nope, in life, as they say.” “Nice to meet you, Russ,” Eddie said, leaning against the bar while studying him. Russ felt like a specimen under a microscope and looked away, flustered. “Hey, I don’t bite, honest,” Eddie told him. “I…we want to help you if we can.” “Uh-huh. Why?” “Personally? I’ve been in your shoes, in a way. If it hadn’t been for Jules and Marcus, and the others of course, I might not be standing here making you nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” Russ protested. “Scared shitless, yeah, and not sure being here is such a good idea.” “Where your sitting? Nope,” Jules replied. “You’re too visible. We should go somewhere more private where they can’t see you if they come back.” “And they will come back, from what Jules said you told him,” Eddie added. Russ knew they were right, as much as he hated the idea. “I wish…” “Umm?” Jules said when he didn’t say anything more. Russ smiled bleakly. “I wish I’d been ten minutes earlier, or later, going back to the encampment. Then I’d be okay.”