Thicker Than Water (Blood Brothers) by Greg Sisco Page A

tears stained his cheeks. Broken-Nose pointed his gun at the grieving father’s head.
    “No,” Locke told him. “He didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Get the guns from the other three and let’s get ‘em back home.”
    Gimpy and Bandage did as they were told, retrieving the guns away from the dying men. When Locke brought his carriage nearer to the bodies, each of them worked with his one good arm to load the bodies in, struggling especially with the behemoth that was Loki.

    Tyr pretended to be brought back to consciousness as a bucket of cold water was poured onto his head. Loki opted out of it in the moment before the water was poured, stating “You don’t have to do that. I’m awake.”
    The water was poured anyway, but the men were frustrated, and that was all that mattered.
    Bandage-Pinky-Bleeding-Ear and Gimpy-Broken-Nose-Arm-In-Sling were standing in front of Loki, Tyr, and Michael, who were tied to chairs in the cellar of the Cherrywood Saloon.
    “Yer friend’s dead already. And I’m doubtin’ Locke’s gonna let either o’ you leave here walkin’, so you’re here with us for the rest your lives,” Bandage-Pinky promised.
    It was true. Michael was unconscious and not coming back from it. His head was slumped forward with blood leaking from his lips. His heart had stopped beating fifteen minutes ago.
    Their hands were tied behind their backs, which they’d allowed to happen when they were thrown into the carriage. Now they were alone and safe to behave as they wished, but they played it out for the showmanship of it.
    “Ya know, the answer doesn’t matter at this point,” Pinky said, “but I’m still curious. Knowing that you die here in this cellar regardless, is there anything involving the young Miss Locke you wanna confess to, just between you, me and your god.”
    “Ohh,” Loki gave a sigh and thought. He was sure there was an amusing quip for this and meant to find it. By the time a few seconds passed, the best he could come up with was: “I’ve had better.”
    The two goons’ faces were blank. Locke was upstairs speaking to the county sheriff but when he returned, the news of Loki’s guilt might make him feel a little better.
    Broken-Nose stepped forward.
    “Why would a man do that? I don’t understand you, I mean, between me and the soon to be dead I don’t blame ya fer layin’ her. Hell any man’s never jerked off to her’s a faggot or a liar, but to cut her up like ya did? Why?”
    “Well,” said Loki, making no effort to appear wounded by the five bullets in his chest, “first I saw her in the window. And I thought, ‘Wow, I’d like to see her tits.’ So I went up there, and I got her tits out. Then I thought, ‘Well hell, now that I’m lookin’, I think I’d like to fuck her.’ So I told her my intentions and we get to it on her bed. And then as we’re finishin’ up, I’m lookin’ at her, and I’m thinkin’, ‘Ya know, if her pussy tastes this good, how good must her blood taste?’ So I get out my knife…”
    “Jesus Christ,” Broken-Nose muttered. The two of them had taken to backing away from their hostages, even as they were tied.
    “Ya know, I think we’ll make you boys a deal,” Tyr cut in, not wanting to be left out of the moment. “How about… you untie us and let us go… and nobody else has to die here tonight.”
    The tone of his voice took the captors by surprise.
    “Oh come on now,” said Pinky after a long pause. “You gonna have to beg a whole lot harder than that.”
    “That wasn’t a plea, gentlemen. That was an offer.”
    The two just stared at Tyr, a smile on his face and his hands still bound behind his back. Even in a town of roughnecks and savages, this manner of confidence was off-putting.
    The door to the cellar swung open and Locke stepped in. He was still in his three-piece suit and looking riled as ever. He was shaving, but it was obvious he had the razor with him for other reasons.
    “So where do we stand?” he asked