This story takes place one month after the events of The Exchange.
As a form of punishment for trying to expose The HOWF, Timothée is now contracted to several sessions of tickle payback. Timothée now has a ‘tickle room’ dedicated just to him, located within one of The Houses, where he must endure a timeless round of tickle torment from any provided tickler, in any form of bondage and with any tickle tool. The sessions take place once, almost every week.
This is Timothée’s fifth session since Christmas 2023.
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LOCATION: THE HOUSE OF WHITE FEATHERS, MANSION 65, OUTSKIRTS OF LOS ANGELES
TIME: 20.59
Timothée Chalamet was the definition of a seasoned ticklee by now.
Almost every inch of his beautiful body had been teased and exploited on various occasions until he knew just how impossibly ticklish he was, a curse that’d made him a prized tickle toy and had, in more ways than he would have liked, landed him in hot water several times with The House of White Feathers …
But as many times as he’d been tickled, the 28 year old Hollywood darling couldn’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he laid there on the padded horizontal table, facedown and completely naked, his arms and legs sat stretched out in a spread eagle position strapped down at his wrists, elbows, waist, thighs, knees, ankles, and even two just under his ass at the very tops of his thighs.
He alternated between resting on his chin and sides of his face as he waited for the new session to begin, unaware who was supposed to be tickling him today and very eager to find out once the door to the room finally opened …
“Woah, I didn’t know peaches were in season,” a familiar, goofy voice said after walking in and being greeted by the pale ass on full display.
Chalamet’s head perked up and he looked around until he confirmed his suspicion, “Pete?! The fuck are you doing here, man?” Timmy asked with a relieved smile and surprise to his voice as Pete Davidson went around and squatted down in front of him so they were closer to eye level.
“You always do this naked?” Pete asked.
“No…not always, but I was told to strip for this one. Wait, are you a part of this whole thing? Do you get tickled too?” Chalamet asked like he wouldn’t expect Pete to be involved in any of this.
“Nah, dude. I tried though. I thought I was pretty ticklish but I guess I wasn’t ticklish enough for them so they made a different deal with me; I’m a tickler instead,” Davidson explained, further surprising Timothée.
“So…you’re here to tickle me now?”
“Yep,” Pete answered matter of factly.
“At least it’s you and not one of the other guys; they’re fucking brutal …”
“Oh, I’m an asshole too. We’re friends and all but HOWF hooked me up; I’ve got jobs lined up until 2026 …” Pete explained with an excited smile.
“Shit…well how long is the session today?” Timmy asked as if his hope of an easy session with a friend was slowly disappearing.
“That’s up to you. I’m here because It looks like your buddy Tom Holland ghosted everybody …”
“What?”
“Yeah, nobody seems to know where he is and can’t get ahold of him. He was supposed to get tickled half a year ago and people are pretty pissed about him skipping out on his end of the deal…”
Davidson elaborated while Timothée did his best to act like he was just as clueless.
“Look, I haven’t talked to him … I’m sure he’ll show up …”
“Maybe so, but they know you guys have gotten friendly recently and they think you know where he is …” Pete added, rekindling the nerves Chalamet had before Pete showed up.
It wasn’t gonna be a normal session; it was an interrogation.
“Pete, man, I swear! I don’t know anything about it… Talk to Garfield; they’re super close, aren’t they?”
“I think you guys are getting pretty close… Close enough to know where he is,” Davidson explained as he stood up and walked around the side of the black table, putting Chalamet on edge waiting for Pete to make a move, his imagination racing with speculation of the SNL alum’s prowess as a tickler.
He didn’t fit the bill of the others; he was a curveball for Timmy, a strategic curveball. They must’ve thought he’d be more likely to voluntarily open up to a friend like Davidson, a catching flies with honey over vinegar type thing, but his loyalty lied with Tom more than him … Too bad Pete was there to ruin that.
“I’ve never done a facedown setup … Shit, you can’t even see what I’m doing, can you… And naked too? They must want Holland pretty fucking bad …” Pete laughed like he understood how compromising and vulnerable the position was for Timothée.
“Pete, come on, man …I don’t know where Tom is! Seriously!” Timmy doubled down with mounting anticipation as if he could feel Pete’s eyes on him planning their attack.
“You’re a good actor and all but I’m not buying it right now, dude,” the 29 year old answered before greeting the inviting bare feet with fluttering fingertips up from the bubbly tips of his toes toward his heels.
“OOaohAohshhiiIT!” Chalamet had no choice but to let slip past his lips.
Pete grinned at Timmy confirming what he’d heard about him; Chalamet was a tickler’s dream. Just the wiggling fingers was enough to get him bubbling over with adorably uncontrollable laughter and squirming on the table trying to jerk his feet away.
“OOKOK! PpPeEETTEE!” “Yeah?” “SStToOAohaPP!”
“I’m hardly even doing anything haha. I pet my dog harder than this!” Davidson teased while exploring the luxuriously soft soles at his mercy.
Chalamet floundered in place the most that he could, making his tiny ass jiggle and getting a laugh out of Davidson from the end of the table.
“Come on, man, just tell me where Tom is. He signed up for this shit,” Pete encouraged while testing out the edges of both feet.
“OooAOhAIiiDdoOONNTTkKNNOoWW!”
“Alright, I guess I’ll have to actually tickle you now,” Pete answered as if Timmy was asking for it.
“You already are!”
“What, that? That was just a test run; the real shit hasn’t even started,” Pete explained.
“Fuck me…” Timothée groaned with an annoyed sigh but before he could brace himself, the long fingers returned to his feet, only this time scratching down from his heels in short bursts, “AAHAOHASsHHIIIT! AhoAohANNOONNOAohAOAH!” Chalamet erupted on the table with surprised eyes as the short nails terrorized his defenceless feet all the way down and back up again. Pete couldn’t help but smile at the animated reaction, how incredibly easy it was to get him howling and jerking around. “SSTToOhOHOOP! PPlLlEEAAsSEE!”
“Begging already? I love it” Pete teased while watching Chalamet struggle on the bondage table, curious himself how long it would take to crack such a supremely ticklish guy. It was no wonder to the comedian why he was so sensitive; his feet were the softest Pete had ever put his hands on, even dethroning Colin Jost.
“We both know you know where he is… Just help me out here”
“AAhOHAFFuUuCCkKOOoOfFF! IiiDDOoONNTTkKnOoOWW!” Timothée shouted through the tortured laughter while his hair flew around.
“Damn, alright… I guess you can’t tell me if you don’t know” Davidson answered as his fingers stopped and a surprised Timmy looked around in suspense.
“R…really?”
“Fuck no, dude,” Pete laughed as he crawled onto the table and straddled his lower back to face him.
“Pete! Come on, I told you I don’t know where he is! We’re not even that good of friends; why would I lie for him??”
“Maybe he’s getting you a role in a new Spider-Man movie, I don’t know but I’m not here to find out if you guys have sleepovers or whatever. I’m here to get you talking,” Pete explained before his long fingers crept up from his ribs into Timmy’s wide-open pits, convincing the Dune star to try and pull his arms down but the series of straps along both arms were too strong.
“Pete! Come OoaonAoAohAAOHA!” Chalamet couldn’t help but explode with another wave of heavy laughter once both hands were digging into his pits, bypassing any initial wiggling or teasing. Pete meant business. “GGEEettooOFFFAOhAhoa! GGOoODDAAmMmIIITTAohAHA!!” Timothée lashed out with frustrated laughter, angry he’d been tricked into letting himself be tied down for an interrogation. “They should just start calling you ‘Ticklish Timmy’…maybe I can get that started” Davidson taunted while kneading away into the base of his pits. “NNOoAohAOA!!” Chalamet protested as his laughter spiraled higher and he raged under Pete like he was dying to escape.
“Just tell me where Tom is… You’re already a fucking mess” Davidson encouraged while sinking deeper into the pits and forcing Timmy’s throat to keep up with the thunderous laughter.
“AoAohAOhAFFuUuUCCKK! AohAIIiDDoONnNTtTFFfuUuCckKIINNNGGKNNNOoOWW!!” Chalamet practically screamed in hopes of convincing Pete but the gangly, tattooed lady killer still wasn’t persuaded.
“You’re gonna make me be a real dick, aren’t you?” Pete warned as if he had no choice but to take things up a notch. His spider-like fingers never left the delicious pits as Pete shimmied his body down a little so he was leaning more on his Chalamet’s back and nestled his chin into one side of his neck, confusing Timmy until he felt something wet snaking along his ear.
“AAoAOhWWhhAaAATThHEEFFUUUCCKK!?!” Timothée roared with sudden chills down his naked body while Pete’s tongue flicked across his ear and then started snaking along his neck a little too.
“Tasty” Davidson teased while still drilling into the underarms as his tongue wiggled all over his ear and down his neck, his head in the perfect position to keep Timmy from getting away, “Tell me where he is or I’m gonna keep licking you” Pete instructed like a playfully evil big brother while Timothée struggled to even say the word ‘stop’ through the increasingly raucous laughter. Davidson’s fingers ravaging his unbearably ticklish pits and his enthusiastic tongue winding all over the side of his face and neck was fucking terrible; Pete could hear how miserable the combination was in Timmy’s laughter but no attempt to confess ever caught his ear.
“PpPEEEETTEEAhahAhAAHAA!!” Chalamet shouted like he needed to get through to his friend while his tongue snaked down his sharp jawline and back down his neck with a few surprise nibbles to be extra mean.
“You ready to talk yet?”
“AAhAohAOhAAPPlLLEEeEAASSSEEAHAHA!!”
“That’s not an answer” Davidson countered before his right hand grabbed an electric toothbrush from his back pocket and instead of returning to the armpit, landed on Timothée’s other ear on full power.
“AAAhAhAHaHAAANNOOAOOAHAOHA!!” Chalamet’s head flung forward and then tried to retreat like a turtle as the buzzing toothbrush dominated his right ear and down his neck and Pete kept his word by licking all over the other side of his face and neck at the same time, all while his left hand continued burrowing into same armpit. Pete didn’t even bother encouraging Timmy to talk anymore, instead focusing on driving him as crazy as possible and it was working. The toothbrush buzzing all over his ear and teasing down his unprotected neck while the textured tongue slinked all over the other side and the left armpit endured close to 10 minutes of steady attention was soon enough to render Chalamet speechless in his frustrated laughter, on the verge of tears from such over stimulation. It wasn’t until Pete stopped licking for a moment that Timothée had a chance to actually talk …
“IiIiCCAAnNNNTTTEEelLLlyYYOoUUU!!! AohAOhAJjUUuSSTTSSTTHOHOHOHPP!!”
“Come on, Timmy, tell me where he is,” Davidson turned off the toothbrush and stopped tickling and licking Timmy altogether.
“Pete, man… I have no idea … And who the fuck licks people to tickle them like that?!” Timothée whined with a bit of their usual chummy dynamic flaring back up.
“I told you I could be an asshole… But I guess I’ll have to keep going. If I don’t find out where he is from you, I’ve gotta worry about my deal getting fucked up so I’m not leaving without a good answer,” Davidson explained with a determined attitude before getting all the way on the table this time so he was sitting between the Timmy’s wide legs kept in place by the collection of straps.
“Oh, fuck me …Pete, just give em’ some bullshit answer! You know how to improv shit!” Chalamet insisted, fearing the next wave of friendly fire.
“Ok but if I feed them some random location and there’s no Tom, then I’m fucked,” Davidson challenged as he set his sights on his next target. “I heard even a feather gets you going apeshit… I think I need to see that for myself” Davidson admitted, warning his naked buddy of what was coming before the red feathers landed on his wildly exposed taint.
“aAhAohAO! NNAoAOHA! PPEeEETTEE!! SSTTOHOohOPP!!”
“Oh shit! That’s fucking crazy” Pete admitted with obvious excitement at the strong reaction as he continued swirling the feathers between his perky ass and hanging balls resting on the table.
“GGEETTtOooOFFF!! AohAohAMMoOOTTThHEERFFFUuUuCCkKEERR!!” Chalamet roared with embarrassed laughter like he hadn’t expected Pete to go there and expel such a colorful reaction.
The bonafide moviestar wasn’t even aware the feathers had been sitting between his legs this whole time, waiting on the table for Pete if he decided to use them. Unfortunately, Timothée was just as powerless to them as ever as Davidson swished them back and forth with a goofy smile on his face, entranced by the hyper-delicacy of Chalamet’s beautiful taint.
“SSTtoHOHOOPPIiiITT!!” Timmy cried out with reluctant laughter as he jerked on the table and his cheeks clenched to try and protect himself.
“Haha where ya going?” Pete mocked before twirling the pair of feathers a little faster and hurling Timothée into a crazier fit on the table, as if Pete had found a button that was only supposed to be pushed for a short time but refused to back off it, “It’s just a couple feathers, dude…Jesus!” Davidson teased.
“AHAOAFFUUuUUCCCKkyYOOUUU!! AohAOhAohAAJjUUUSSSTTFFuUUCCkKIInNGGSSTTOhHOOPP WWIITTHhTThEEFfEEAATTHHEeERRSS!!!” Timmy pleaded like he was trying to get through to the real Pete, not this sadistic Pete that’d taken over his body.
“Tell me where Tom is and I will; it’s pretty simple …”
“AhOAoAANnOAOOAOAH!!” Timothée refused like he couldn’t believe he was defying Pete again and subjecting himself to further torture but Pete just continued to prove why The House of White Feathers had chosen him as a tickler.
“You two must be pretty tight…oh well” Pete answered before leaning down and blowing a sloppy raspberry on his right ass cheek, shocking Timmy.
“AAHAohAOHASSHHIIITT!”
“Damn! Ticklish ass too? How about another one?” Davidson added before blowing a second raspberry on the other smooth cheek until his lips were flapping on him for close to 30 seconds, all while the sinister feathers continued tormenting his taint without missing a beat.
Timothée’s rolling laughter filled the mostly empty room as he thrashed around on the table as much as he could but Pete wouldn’t let up, seamlessly switching from raspberries to playful nibbles all over both cheeks just the right way to tickle like hell. “AAOhAWWhhAATTThHEEFfuUuCCCKK!?!?” Chalamet writhed in the straps and his hands reached out with wide fingers like they didn’t know what to do, overwhelmed by Davidson perfectly feathering his taint and using his teeth on his ass.
“Talk to me, Chalamet…I just need an answer, then we can go eat or catch a movie…whatever you wanna do,” Davidson tried to persuade, reminding him how little stood between him and ticklish mercy.
“NNoOaOoAOHA!! AohAhoApPPEEEtTTEEEPPLLeEEAASSEE!!” Timothée begged with strained laughter while only the feathers continued teasing between his legs.
“You know the way out of this, man…there’s no friends and family discount here" Pete explained before suddenly dropping the feathers and turning around to sit between his knees facing his feet. Timmy relaxed with relief while his sweaty back moved up and down to replenish his lungs while he could, in the dark as to what Pete had planned next. However, the next thing he felt was his left foot being removed from the ankle strap, sparking a glimmer of hope for the Hollywood ‘it’ boy.
He could tell Pete’s shins were sliding under his ankle like he was crossing them and then Timothée felt them tighten a bit around it, telling him that his naked, unreasonably ticklish foot was now trapped between Pete’s long legs. The unnerving realization was enough to send a shiver of fresh dread up his glistening body. As comfortable as Timmy was with going barefoot, he understood the vulnerability that came along with it, the lack of protection over one of the most sensitive parts of the body, his especially. In reality, he really only went barefoot when he was required to; for projects, or photoshoots, to sleep or shower or during sex. He never even walked around his house on a lazy Saturday without at least socks on, and it showed. His narrow 11s were to die for. With soles almost too smooth to be real and slender toes that people would sell their house to taste, the dreamy left foot was a little slice of heaven in Pete’s lap, moments away from total destruction.
“Pete, please! This is fucking crazy! Even if I did know, I can’t screw over Tom like that!”
“Well, it’s either you or him and his foot isn’t the one I’m about to tickle the shit out of,” Davidson answered with a dose of reality as he grabbed the two new tools Timmy didn’t even know were in the room.
“Fuck! Come on! I can get you whatever you want! Just let this shit goAooAoAohAOHAOhWWwhhAaatTThhEEFfFuuUuCCKKK!?!” suddenly laughter came roaring out of Chalamet like he was breathing fire with wide-eyed horror as Pete zig-zagged across his foot with toys Timmy couldn’t think straight enough to identify.
“Whatever I want?” Pete mocked in a cartoonish voice while dragging the points of the plastic combs across the flawless sole, starting from the balls and pin-balling from one side of his foot to the other while the points zipped past each other all the way down to his heel.
“NNOAOAOhAhA!! FFuUUCCkKiiNNNGGSSTTOhOHHOOPP!!” Timothée shouted with quick bursts of urgency between the avalanche of laughter while he fought the sturdy straps like he was being electrocuted.
“You know what I want, man…that’s the safeword…” Pete reminded while he started to draw all over the left foot captive between his legs, running the plastic points of the comb handles in winding circles and nonsensical patterns mostly along his arches and balls.
“AAAAHAHAH!! PPpEEETTTEEPPLLLEEEAASSEEE!!” Timmy begged like he didn’t know what else to do, absolutely wrecked by the simple pair of black combs skating across his baby soft foot.
Davidson may have not originally signed up to be a tickler, nor even understood that was an option at the time but damn he was good at it. His natural playfulness with people he knew and the way his devious side was brought out by having such power, being able to easily provoke such wild reactions from people made him a perfect fit. He had fun with it. “Just give it up…you sound like a fucking lunatic back there” Pete taunted as the points of the combs began to focus on his low arch, now running straight up and down in opposite directions to loosen Chalamet’s lips.
“AAAhAhAHMMOooTTThHeERRFFuUuCCCkKEERR!! AohAohAPPLLLEEEAAASSEE!! I doohohohoNT KNOWWWWWW!!” Timothée did his best to hold on as the stiff, unforgiving comb handles made small waves on his sole with each stroke.
“Should I go faster then?” Pete questioned as the points started picking up speed.
“NNOAoAOHA!!”
“Well I’m not going slower…” Davidson countered before breaking into a blitz of scribbles with the comb points onto the balls like he was making them go as fast as he could.
“AAHAhAHAOHAOHAAOHFFFuUUuCCCKK!!” barreled out of Timothée with the full power of his throat while Pete went to town with another goofy grin on his face.
“You really have some of the most ticklish feet I’ve ever seen haha…it’s fucking crazy” Pete admitted like he was still in awe of how easy it was to make him go so insane, an addicting novelty he’d never come across in any of his other friends. As he focused on the bubblegum pink balls in front of him, creating an unending series of faint lines with the harsh points and hearing Chalamet go nuts behind him, Pete recalled that he had been told to make this as quick as possible. He knew he could’ve worn him down over time until he was ready to talk but Tom’s tickler wasn’t happy about his lee ditching him; Timmy needed to talk, now.
By the time Pete stopped terrorizing his foot with the comb points, Timothée was a sweaty, limp mess on the table praying he’d endured the tickling long enough for Davidson to have given up on his interrogation.
“Pete…enough, man…I told you, I have no idea where Tom is … He’s ghosted me, too.”
“You’re lying,” Pete stood next to the table.
“I’ve been tickled by worse guys than you, Pete…you’re not gonna break me”
“Seriously? That Miller dude looks like some 50 Shades of Gray reject and Tarantino, I’m surprised he could even tickle you for drooling over your feet. Nah, I’ve got my own tricks…don’t worry” Davidson assured as he surprised Timmy again by releasing the knee strap around the left leg.
“You could at least tell me what you’re doing”
“Why would I do some dumb shit like that?” Pete questioned before unhooking one of the unused straps from the table and running it through the one at the top of his thigh, then bending his leg toward his butt and securing that same loose strap around his ankle, effectively frog tying his left leg so his heel was stuck just above his ass.
“Seriously??” Timothée whined while wiggling his foot around in the air.
“Does it feel like I’m joking?” Pete challenged before straddling him again, this time sitting across his lower back to face the end of the table. The repositioning made Chalamet nervous once again, knowing full well by now that Pete was going to do his worst to make him talk.
“You sure you don’t wanna tell me where he is?” Pete asked like he was giving him one more chance to avoid what was coming.
“Give it up, man,” Timmy answered as if he was prepared to suffer, still thinking he could outlast whatever Pete could dish out.
“Then I guess I should get more comfortable” Pete answered before reaching back and prying off his sneakers one at a time and making sure his dirty white socked feet rested only a couple inches on either side of his face.
“Dude!” Chalamet groaned.
“You’re the one dragging this out, not me” Davidson pointed out as his big, ripe feet provided another layer of torture and he fired up two electric toothbrushes before shoving them between the straps on his upper thighs so the buzzing bristle heads landed right on his pubic area.
“AAoAOhWWhAATThhEEFFFUUuCCkKDDuUDDEE!?!” Chalamet came back to life with a surprised, gigglier outburst fueled by the battery-powered attack.
“But wait! There’s more!” Pete announced with his best Scary Movie impersonation as he re-armed himself with the combs and pulled the trigger on the ace he’d been waiting to play the whole time.
Davidson slipped one of the combs between the big and second toe of the left foot and quickly slid the second comb between the third and second toe, giving Timothée only a moment to realize what was happening before Pete started sawing the plastic teeth of both combs directly on his left index toe, the most lethal spot on his entire body.
“AAhAOhaOHANNNOOOAohAOA!!! FFuUUCCKkAohAOHA!!” He went FUCKING BANANAS. The Oscar-nominated superstar raged against the straps like he needed an exorcism and tried to kick his leg free of the makeshift frog tie but there was no getting away. How did he know about the index toe?? It was like somebody had spilled Chalamet’s own personal nuclear codes and Pete was content to just sit back and listen to his buddy lose his mind behind him. “AAhAAOHAOhaPPPPEEEETTEEE!!! AohAOhAOhAoHAOhaohAaFFfuUUUCCKkIInNnGGSSTTOHohOHPP!!” Timothée begged with high-pitched squeals as tears welled in his eyes.
“Good thing I watched those videos…who would’ve thought this one toe out of everything would be this fucking bad?” Pete taunted while steadily sawing the combs back and forth between the wiggling, frantic toes.
“IIiICCAAAanNNTTT TTAAAKkeEEIIIITTAhAHAHA!! PPPLlleEEEAAASSEEE!!” Timmy confessed with less and less air to spare for his words the longer Pete used the combs’ teeth on him, his laughter too explosive and demanding to leave him much room to even beg. The electric toothbrushes became background sensations but helped push him even further, buzzing between his waist and dick with unwavering consistency while he had no choice but to smell more and more of Pete’s cheesy feet quickly overwhelming his airways. “AhAOAOAohAOhAOAHOAHOhaSSTTOhHOHOHPPP!!” Timothée screamed with humiliating desperation as the combs continued to prove how evil they were, defying the supple perfection of his most off-limits spot as mercilessly as Pete could make them.
“Just tell me where he is…it’s not a hard question” Pete reminded but didn’t hear an answer from Timmy, prompting him to lean forward and start flicking his tongue along the left sole for even more motivation.
“AAAAAAAOHAhoAHOAHAOHAoPPEEEETTTEE!! AohAohAOHAOHPPLLLLEEAAASSEE!! SSTTOHOHOHOPP!!” He could barely get it out. The teeth of the combs, the buzzing of the toothbrushes, and now Pete’s tongue greedily licking his foot had Chalamet on the fucking edge. A naïve part of him thought he’d gotten at least a little accustomed to enduring such concentrated tickling but he was horribly wrong. His neck was bright pink and his throat overworked by the uncontrollable laughter while ticklish tears ran down his cheeks and he accidentally got himself hard from thrusting around on the table, only adding to the mind-fuck nightmare of having Pete as his newest tickler.
Davidson may have been relatively new at this but he was a natural, keeping Timmy gushing violent laughter and swearing into the air while the diabolical simplicity of the combs and the unrelenting power of the toothbrushes forced him to choose between the unique hell he was in and betraying Tom. At one point, amidst his delirious misery, one of the toothbrushes shifted and started vibrating against his unsuspecting cock head and like some kind of cosmic joke, Pete started nibbling along the meaty side of his foot almost at the same time.
“AAAAhAHAHAHAHAHAFFUUUUUCCCKKK!!” Chalamet raged with pure ticklish panic as the buzzing tickled his tender pink head worse than he could bear and Pete’s wide mouth snacked on his foot with quick nibbles and slurps, all of it almost harmonizing with the combs still sawing away on his precious index toe until Timothée had no choice but to surrender.
“STOP LISTEN TO ME FOR JUST A SECOND!!”
“You got something to say, Timmy?”
“YESSS YESS YESS!!” a tear-stained, rock-hard Timmy had to focus to even get out and Pete abandoned his left foot and pulled the toothbrushes away, allowing him to talk.
“If you’re fucking with me, my socks are going in your mouth!” Pete warned as he turned around to face the exhausted, broken friend he’d been assigned to persuade.
“I don’t know the location …” Timmy huffed, his declaration genuinely sincere “ … But I do know, you’ll never catch them …”
Pete stepped back with a grin. He could see Timmy was telling the truth.
But he had also slipped …
“… Them?” Pete cocked an eyebrow.
Timmy gulped.
“Shit.”
Pete smiled.
He flipped out his iPhone and dialled Millers number.
Rinnnnnng, rinnnnng, rinnggggggg …
Miller: ‘Hey, kid.”
Pete turned away from Tim and delivered his intel.
“Holland has a team …”
KEEP TRACK. KEEP ASKING THE QUESTION. ‘WHERE’S TOM?’