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Chapter Three




“Walkin’ down a lonely street I need someone to meet . . . ” Peter sang, pausing to jot down a few notes on the pad at his elbow. The house was quiet without Mike. Too quiet. And—though he’d never admit it to the pair sparring near the front door—he missed Mike’s presence.

“Aaah! Micky!” Davy hollered as his hair was pulled. “What the hell you tryin’ to do, tear the top off my head?”

Peter laughed. “Hey, that’s perfect!” He turned, scribbling the words down before he forgot them.

“Perfect for what?” Davy asked as he patted down his abused hair.

“The song! Listen! ‘Walkin’ down a lonely street I need someone to meet, I run across sweet-looking you, do you know what you do—you tear the top right off my head you blow my mind. I’m going blind!’” He played a few jaunty notes and grinned at the pair.

Davy froze, staring at Peter strangely. “You’re . . . not . . . are you?”

“Of course not!” Peter said, rolling his eyes—and not noticing the slight drawl that crept into his voice.

“Man, you really miss him, huh?” Davy asked, walking over to sit beside him.

Peter just nodded. “I wish he’d call.”

“You heard what he said, though—it’ll take him a day or two to get there, and sometimes Aunt Kate’s phone doesn’t work. We might not hear from him for a few days.”

Peter sighed. “A few days too long.”

Micky sighed. “It’s getting maudlin in here, guys.”

Peter set his guitar aside. “C’mon. Let’s go outside.”

Micky rubbed his hands together. “Oh, boy! Sparring!” and he shot outside.

Peter pulled off his shirt and followed him. “Nice to know some things never change.”



~~~~~



Brenda was waiting for Micky on the beach the next morning as he went out for his morning run. Not her again, Micky thought, keeping his attention focused on the beach. Maybe she wouldn’t notice him.

“Micky!” No such luck.

He slowed. “Yeah?”

She jogged up to him. “Look . . . I’m sorry about Bulk.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, he’s not . . . quite . . . right.” She smiled sweetly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “So . . . uhm . . . are you busy?”

“Not really,” Micky said, softening a little. She really wasn’t bad.

She smiled. “Will you walk with me?”

“Sure,” Micky said, falling into step beside her.

They walked in companionable silence, then Brenda said, “You know . . . I’ve been thinking . . . ”

There’s a first time for everything. “Oh yeah? About what?”

“Are you familiar with a man named Sha-ku?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

“He runs a fitness center that you might be interested in.”

Micky rolled his eyes. “Like I told him—I don’t need it.”

“Bulk goes there, and he’s filled out really nice.”

Micky shrugged. “Okay for him, but I’d rather keep some flexibility.”

Anger snapped in her eyes for the first time. “Yeah . . . flexibility,” she growled.

“You really like all those bulges?” Micky asked.

“He’s not flashy, but he gets the job done.”

“And what job’s that?”

Her mouth opened, then closed as she glared at him. “Look . . . I don’t want to fight you.”

Micky gave her a cocky grin. “I don’t want to fight you, either.”

“So please . . . for me?” She tried a seductive pout on him. “Please just give him a chance?”

Micky sighed. I’ve never been able to turn down a pretty girl. He fished the wrinkled card out of his pocket. “Okay, okay . . . ”

Brenda squealed and kissed him. “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!” She let go and began to run down the beach.

“Yeah, but I might,” Micky muttered, heading back to the beach house.



~~~~~



“You did what?” Davy exploded at him.

“I told Brenda I’d go down to Sha-ku’s,” Micky said as he buttoned his red shirt.

“Why?” Peter asked.

“Because she asked me, and she’s a nice girl.” He paused. “And she pouted her lips at me in this crazy way.”

Peter rolled his eyes and sighed, “I wish Mike were here.”

“We gonna let him go alone?” Davy asked.

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“I’m not sure,” Davy said, watching Micky walk toward the door. “Just a crawling-skin feeling.”

Peter bit his lip as Micky headed out. “We’ll stay here. Hopefully Micky knows what he’s doing.”

Davy just nodded, watching the door close.



~~~~~



Micky walked into the building, arching an eyebrow as he saw it was set up a little differently than a regular gym. “All right,” he called. “I’m here.”

Something moved at the edge of his vision and he turned in time to catch the juggling pin hurtling straight for his head. “Very good,” Sha-ku said. “Very good indeed.”

“I’m here,” he repeated, pitching the pin into a bin. “What the hell do you want?

“You, Mr. Dolenz. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been more than generous but I’m starting to lose my patience.”

“Why? I’m nothing special.”

Sha-ku stepped forward, his movements light and graceful. “Oh, but you are. You’re the perfect poster boy for my facility. I’ll be rich, and you will—if you choose—reap the benefits of my vast knowledge.” He put his arm around Micky’s shoulders. “Your skills are . . . limited, but I’m sure I can teach you somewhat.”

The look Micky shot him was pure ‘I-can’t-believe-this-shit.’ It would have done Mike proud. “Oh you can, can you?”

The supportive, fatherly arm around Micky’s shoulders whipped back, the edge of Sha-ku’s hand slamming into one of the muscles of Micky’s back, causing the muscle to spasm so hard it drove Micky to his knees.

Micky knelt there for a second before he nodded. “I see,” he said as he moved into an innocuous position, before his legs whipped out and cut Sha-ku’s legs out from under him.

Sha-ku hit the ground with a thud, wheezing for breath. Micky rose to his feet, easing into a loose-limbed, ready stance. Sha-ku crawled to his feet. “You see, that’s what I mean. You have so much potential. Join me. Let me mold you into the finest warrior the world’s ever seen.”

“I don’t blow alone,” he shot back.

“What will it take?” Sha-ku said, his voice lowering.

“You have nothing I want.”

“I don’t believe that. There’s something you want or need . . . or something that you value that I can . . . persuade you with.”

He shook his head. “Take no for an answer, will you, huh? I’m happy where I’m at, doing what I do. Just leave me alone.”

“Fine. Go. We’ll discuss this later.”

“There is nothing to discuss!” Micky threw up his hands and moved toward the door, muttering and shaking his head as he walked.

“He’s a stubborn little thing, isn’t he?” Bulk murmured. Sha-ku smiled as he watched Dolenz depart.

“What do you think?” Bulk asked, coming to stand next to his boss.

“I think Mr. Dolenz isn’t the only one who is more than what he seems,” Sha-ku said ominously as he headed to a door at the far end of the gym. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, allowing Bulk to precede him into the dim, windowless room.

Bulk reached up and pulled on a knotted string; a harsh white light came on, forcing a groan from the figure hunched over in front of them.

His tall, lanky figure had been forced into an awkward squat, one designed to strain the muscles of his back and legs for no other reason than to cause pain. His arms and wrists were tightly bound to the frame of an old vaulting horse; ropes around his chest and waist kept him from straightening. A ragged piece of towel gagged him, stained red where it had cut into the sensitive skin at the edges of his mouth. He glared up at Sha-ku, still tugging at his restraints even though it was clear there was no budging them.

Sha-ku just smiled. They’d caught him two days before when he’d been waiting for a bus; his ticket had said ‘Dallas, Texas’ on it. He’d put up a ferocious fight, but six men, each of them the size of Bulk, had finally been able to subdue him.

“Mr. Nesmith, I think it’s time you told us just who and what you are.”



On to Chapter Four
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