Page 83 of Until the End

True satisfaction came from watching him choke to death on his own blood.

28

Boston, Massachusetts

10:17 a.m. EDT

The safe house was a detached townhome spread across two levels, essentially a single-family unit on a tiny, low-maintenance plot. Located on the east side of the city, it was steps from Boston harbor. An active area with lots of Airbnb rentals, where strangers wouldn’t be noticed.

To access the attached garage, Castle entered a five-digit code and pulled the Hummer inside. He cut the engine, tapped out another PIN on the digital lock, and disabled the alarm from a panel beside the hall closet.

Pain compressed Alistair’s features as he hurled insults that blistered even Castle’s ears. At least he was conscious.

Quickly, Kit helped Castle get Alistair into the house. Each of them draped one of his arms around their shoulders and hauled him in.

The private entry led to the main floor through a laundry room and into the kitchen. Not wanting to take any chances in case they’d been tailed without his knowledge, Castle engaged the high-security function. With a push of a button, bulletproof shutters rolled into place, covering the windows and doors to prevent forced entry.

As they passed the kitchen, Castle did a quick visual sweep. “Bedrooms must be upstairs. You’d be more comfortable there. I could carry you up.”

“How sweet,” Alistair said, gritting his teeth through what must’ve been sheer agony. “The Beast wants to take this bromance to the next level. You can sod off. Dump me on the bloody sofa.”

“Just when I was starting to think I was special,” Kit said, “here you are offering to carry everyone.”

Castle bit back a grin and bore the brunt of Alistair’s weight as they got him to the leather sofa. “Your pants have got to come off.”

“First the bedroom and now my trousers.” Alistair tsked, setting the medical kit on the sofa, and undid his belt. “Whatever will she think of you?”

“I’m more concerned with you bleeding out.” Castle had shaved fifteen minutes off the estimated travel time, but it had still taken too long. The wound needed to be treated quickly.

“Might want to shield your eyes, luv. Once you’ve seen all my glory, you’ll never want to go back to that.” Alistair gestured to Castle.

“Kit, would you mind looking for some towels?” Castle asked, putting on latex gloves from the med bag. “Check to see if there’s a change of pants that’d fit him.” Every safe house was stocked with medical supplies, weapons and ammo, extra clothes in a variety of sizes, and nonperishable food.

She nodded and left the room, going upstairs.

Alistair dropped his pants around his ankles and peeled his blood-soaked boxers down far enough to expose the injury.

Castle lowered himself to one knee. “Ready?”

With a curt nod, Alistair tensed and leaned against the couch, bracing for the pain.

Castle wiped blood away with gauze to assess the damage. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

“How’s that? A hole in my bum doesn’t feel too lucky.”

“You’ve got two holes. Not one.”

They both knew what that meant, an entry and exit wound. Left buttock and hip, three inches apart. Castle wouldn’t have to put him through the torture of digging out the bullet.

“I can practically hear the jokes already.” Alistair flashed a tight smile.

Yeah, their tightknit crew would give him a good ribbing over this.

Kit returned with towels, a pair of sweatpants, and a glass of water for Alistair that he promptly chugged. They set the towels out on the sofa, and Alistair settled onto the cushions, lying facedown.

Castle cleaned the wounds with a premade saline solution. “I have to check for frag.” The bullet might have broken apart as it entered or exited. Any tiny pieces left in his body could cause further damage. “No need to suffer through it. Or worse, make me suffer through your mouth.” He held up an autoinjector of a powerful painkiller mixed with a sedative.

They were high-speed low-drag operators who handled the toughest of tough assignments. No Gray Box operative had anything to prove or to gain through pointless suffering.