Just a Little Danger

by Merry Farmer

  On second thought, perhaps Lionel hadn’t saved him. Patrick would rather have sunk through the floor than been the center of attention.

  David cleared his throat, visibly frustrated. “Adler is a possibility,” he said, ignoring the interlude in an attempt to force the others to the matter at hand. Patrick gave him his full attention, praying it would take him out of the limelight. “We won’t know the man with the lion’s true identity until Joe Logan returns from Spain, though. Even then, Joe might not know what his sister was talking about. So for the time being, since we know Adler is involved anyhow, I believe it’s vital we investigate him.”

  “Fine,” Lionel said. “Wrexham can use his contacts at Scotland Yard to have the man followed.”

  “I know where he is,” Jewel insisted, standing straighter. “Or, at least, I know where to find him.”

  “Then Everett will ferret out Adler,” David said with an impatient nod.

  “I do not want that man involved in our investigation.” Lionel crossed his arms even tighter, narrowing his eyes at Jewel. “He only wants to be a part of this whole thing so that he can be the center of everyone’s attention and take credit for it all in the end.”

  “That’s a lie,” Jewel said with a level of drama that even Patrick found to be too much. That bravado lessened, and Jewel’s shoulders dropped, as he said, “You know why I have a vested interest in bringing anyone who would do something so vile to innocent children to justice.”

  Patrick expected Lionel to fire back with a snide comment. Surprisingly, the enigmatic man kept his lips pressed shut. He glanced out the window, as if recusing himself from the rest of the argument, perhaps because he knew he wouldn’t win.

  David let out an impatient breath and rubbed his forehead. “Wrexham and Everett can work together on this investigation.”

  It felt as though lightning shot through Patrick’s veins. He jerked straighter, glancing sideways at Jewel. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Jewel asked, a combination of hurt and teasing in his glittering eyes. “Don’t you like me?”

  “I—”

  “Kindly stick to the matter at hand and save your tomfoolery for later, Everett,” David said, raising his voice. “I made the suggestion because the two of you make the perfect team. Wrexham is a police officer with connections at Scotland Yard. Not only does Everett have contacts none of the rest of us have, he is well-known and recognizable. His fame could open doors that would otherwise remain shut. Meanwhile, no one ever seems to notice Wrexham, even when he’s standing right in front of their nose.”

  Patrick flinched inwardly at the all-too accurate description of himself. No one noticed him, and no one wanted him, whereas Jewel….

  “He’s too loud,” Lionel said in a flat voice. “He’ll bungle the whole thing up by signing autographs and posing for amateur photographers, thus allowing Adler, and everyone else involved, to get away scot-free.”

  “I will not,” Jewel said, sniffing in offense.

  “Wrexham will keep him in line,” David said, growing visibly exhausted by their rivalry with each passing second.

  “Yes,” Jewel echoed in an entirely different tone of voice. “Officer Wrexham will most certainly keep me in line.”

  Patrick grew so hot that he feared sweat stains would be visible under his arms and around his collar. “I’ll do my best, sir.” He nodded to David.

  “It’s settled, then,” David said. “Wrexham and Everett will work together to track down Adler. At least until Joe and Alistair are able to return home. And with any luck, we’ll have this whole thing solved within weeks.”

  Chapter 2

  Everett felt as though he’d been handed a sticky, gooey treat that would leave him licking sweetness off his lips and fingers once he was done consuming it as he and Officer Patrick Wrexham left Dandie & Wirth’s. Wrexham seemed to want to walk a step or two behind him as they started down the street, but Everett wasn’t having any of that.

  “Never skulk in the shadows, darling,” he said, looping his arm through Wrexham’s to stroll on as though they were two school chums. “You have as much of a right to see and be seen as the next man.”

  “I…do?” Wrexham mumbled.

  Everett glanced to him with a grin, excitement pulsing through him. The shy ones were always the very devil once you got them in bed. He couldn’t decide which he’d enjoy more, bending the muscular officer over a chair and taking him to the hilt or letting the man bugger him senseless. With any luck, he’d get a chance to do both before the next day dawned.

  “I suppose lurking in the shadows comes in handy in your line of work,” he said in a tone that would have been more suited to whispering sins in the deep of night.

  Wrexham was charmingly flustered. He cleared his throat and pulled his arm out of Everett’s but continued walking at his side as they turned a corner. “My duty is to uphold the law. I’ve found it easier to do that by keeping a low profile.”

  He was lying. Or at least he was making up stories to tell himself. Everett knew people. He knew their mannerisms and their secrets. He’d reached the heights of fame on the stage that he enjoyed by careful observation and imitation of human nature. Patrick Wrexham was as fascinating a specimen of manhood to study as any he’d ever come across. He’d known it from the moment he saw the man in David and Lionel’s office.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your profile, sweeting,” he told Wrexham in a low purr.

  Wrexham’s face went bright red, and if Everett wasn’t mistaken, his gait became uncomfortable. Sure enough, the man’s trousers bore all the signs that Everett’s flirting was hitting its mark. Seeing that made Everett as randy as if they were at a Parisian cabaret.

  “I’m committed to this investigation,” Wrexham said, clearing his throat. “My superiors at Scotland Yard have given me leave to work with Dandie & Wirth.”

  “How very clever of them.” Everett inched closer to him, brushing his hand along Wrexham’s sleeve.

  Wrexham eyed him anxiously and widened the distance between them. “The trouble with investigating noblemen is that the law protects them to a frustrating degree,” he went on. “Even though Lord Chisolm’s house was raided and evidence connecting him, his son, and Lord Eastleigh to the trafficking ring was discovered, no one in Scotland Yard is willing to take action.”

  “Yes,” Everett said with a frown. “Fame, fortune, and title can cover all manner of sins.” As he knew better than most. He would likely be in jail or worse if not for his fame. Accusations had certainly been made against him, but they were easy to circumvent with a quick exchange of cash and the promise of box seats to London’s most sought-after theatrics. The world had never been a fair place, but sometimes that worked in one’s favor.

  Wrexham studied him with a pink-faced, sideways look. As soon as Everett caught him staring, he snapped his eyes forward.

  “It’s all right, darling,” Everett teased him. “You can look all you want. I’ll let you see much more, if you play your cards right.”

  Wrexham nearly missed a step. He coughed to cover his stumble, his face going redder than Everett thought was possible. Everett’s heart swelled in his chest. The man was perfectly lovely in every way, and so much fun to play with.

  “I believe David Wirth is right about Mr. Joe Logan knowing the identity of the man with the lion,” Wrexham said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, then went on with, “But I think we’re wise to search for this Adler person, as you suggested, for questioning at the very least.”

  Everett wanted to continue teasing the flustered officer, but even the mention of Adler destroyed any mirth he felt. “Adler is a snake of the lowest order,” he said, feeling suddenly hollow inside. They turned another corner, but rather than continuing on the way Wrexham seemed intent to go, Everett tugged his sleeve to lead him in a different direction, toward Drury Lane. “He preys on the weak and the defenseless,” he went on. The old, raw part of him that p
erpetually felt like an eight-year-old boy flared up, threatening to take over everything he’d worked so hard to become.

  “Who is he, exactly?” Wrexham asked, staring at Everett again, but now with a curious frown. “I mean, I assume he’s a procurer of some sort.”

  Everett huffed a humorless laugh at the characterization. “Some sort, yes.” He rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable with losing the upper hand, within himself as much as in his discussion with Wrexham. “He’s been snatching children off the street and selling them to the highest bidder for decades. He doesn’t have to bother with snatching them most of the time. You’d be surprised at how easily desperate and unscrupulous parents will hand over their beloved offspring for a few coins and a loaf of bread.”

  Wrexham reached quickly for the small satchel attached to his belt. He moved his hand away again as fast as he’d reached for it, embarrassment painting his face. Everett found the whole, split-second action puzzling, but he was too consumed by his own pain to linger on it.

  “I want Adler brought down, one way or another,” he said. “Men like that deserve to rot in hell for what they do.”

  “Agreed,” Wrexham said in a deadly voice.

  Everett’s brow shot up, and a smile spread slowly across his lips. His dear, delicious officer meant that, and not as lip service or a way to get into Everett’s trousers. It sent a different sort of thrill than he was used to coursing through his blood. Perhaps he and the stolid policeman had more in common than he’d first suspected.

  “I know where to start our search for Adler,” he went on.

  Before he could continue, a pair of well-dressed ladies with far too many ostrich feathers in their hats rushed toward him from the other side of the street. They narrowly avoided being flattened by a carriage in their rush to reach him.

  “Good heavens, you’re Everett Jewel,” one of them squealed, stars in her eyes.

  Everett instantly stood straighter and treated them to his broadest smile. “Why yes, you’ve found me out,” he said, arching one eyebrow as though he’d planned the irritating interruption.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Patrick step back, practically blending into the side of the building next to them. The admiring ladies didn’t appear to notice him in the least.

  “Might we have your autograph, Mr. Jewel,” the second lady said breathlessly. She reached into her reticule with shaking hands, fumbling with the contents.

  “I must have a pencil somewhere,” the first lady said, giggling as she searched through her handbag as well.

  Everett drew a pencil from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Ladies, you are in luck. I always come prepared.” He peeked at Wrexham, strangely concerned with what the man might think of him for carrying around a pencil explicitly for signing autographs. But Wrexham’s face was a blank mask.

  “Oh, yes, lovely,” the first lady continued to giggle. She drew a slip of paper from her handbag, passing it to him. “Would you?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Everett said as though she’d asked him to perform cunnilingus. He scrawled his name on what appeared to be a haberdasher’s bill as he cradled it in the palm of his hand. “And you, my sweet?” he asked the other lady.

  “I…I don’t have anything.” She looked as though she might burst into tears.

  “Give me your hand, darling.” When the lady extended her trembling hand, he turned it over and signed his name across her white kid glove. “There you are.”

  The woman gasped, then burst into tears of joy, cradling her hand close. “Thank you, oh thank you.”

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, my dears.” He tucked his pencil back into his pocket and touched the brim of his hat to them.

  The two ladies rushed on, glancing back over their shoulders at him several times before turning a corner. Several others along the street looked as though they might rush in to ask for his autograph as well. Everett certainly wasn’t in the mood to cause a public scene, for a change. His smile dropped, and he turned to Wrexham. Something about the man’s stolid stance and steady presence made him feel safe, as though the man wouldn’t allow a soul to so much as lift a finger against him.

  No, that wasn’t right. Everett was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. More than most people knew. He’d beat the stuffing out of men who thought they could attack him for being who he was. And he refused to lower himself to the level of someone who needed something as pedestrian as help or comfort. It was arousal. That was what he felt. Wrexham was a handsome police officer with a pugilist’s build. He wanted to fuck him, nothing more. He absolutely did not find the man’s presence comforting. Men like him had no use for comfort, only lust and satisfaction.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t leap into the limelight back there,” he told Wrexham as they walked on.

  “Me?” Wrexham blinked in surprise. “Why would I do that?”

  “Doesn’t everyone love attention?” Everett shrugged.

  “No.”

  It was Everett’s turn to register surprise. “Come now.” His shock melted into a sly grin. “We all want attention. We all want adoration.”

  Wrexham kept his mouth shut, as if he wanted to tell Everett he was high on opium but didn’t dare disrespect him.

  “Lionel Mercer would have eaten his heart out to snag the attention if he’d been with me,” Everett said with a shrug.

  “Were you lovers?” Wrexham asked quietly.

  The question was so blunt that Everett laughed loud enough to draw half the eyes on the street. “Briefly,” he said, though it was partially a lie. “He wishes it were more.”

  Everett swayed closer to Wrexham as they walked on, telling himself he was just teasing the stoic man and not desperate to feel his body close to his own. Wrexham stepped away, widening the gap between them, which made Everett frown.

  “Come now,” he said. “There’s no use in denying you want me.” He added a coy grin to his blatant overtures.

  Wrexham’s face went red all over again. “You may not be concerned about the Labouchere Amendment, but I am,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Everett snorted. “That useless piece of legislation?” They paused at the corner and checked both ways before crossing the street. “It’s a useless piece of shit designed to meddle in our lives for no other reason than spite. You know they only employ it when one of our sort sets a foot out of line in other ways.”

  Wrexham glanced around with something close to terror in his eyes, as if everyone might hear and know and start throwing stones at them.

  “You’re not ashamed of who you are, are you?” Everett asked with a teasing grin.

  “I’d rather stay on this side of the law,” Wrexham mumbled.

  “Of course you would, darling.” Everett winked as they reached the opposite side of the street and continued on toward the theater where his show was being staged. “I love a bit of law myself,” he went on. “Perhaps I’ll have you restrain me and punish me for my sins.”

  Wrexham’s only reaction was to harden his jaw and shift to put more distance between the two of them. Which seemed utterly odd, considering how turned on he could tell the man was.

  “Or perhaps you’d like to have the shoe on the other foot, for a change?” he asked. “It must be so taxing to be the man in a position of authority all the time. I could play copper to your miscreant, if you’d like.”

  Wrexham cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The man most certainly did, but the more Everett pushed, the timider Wrexham grew. It was as scintillating as it was frustrating. Everett couldn’t remember the last time his advances had been turned down so summarily. He tried inching closer to Wrexham, but that ended with Wrexham moving away so suddenly that he nearly fell off the curb into the street. Everett wanted to laugh, and to demand why Wrexham was being so difficult.

  “We’re here,” he said as they turned into an alley and headed toward the stage door at the back of the theater. Sever
al of the stage crew and a few of his fellow actors stood around in the growing twilight, smoking cigarettes and laughing as they took a final rest before the night’s performance.

  “Why are we here?” Wrexham asked as Everett marched right past the crew with waves and short helloes.

  As soon as they were in the relatively dim hallway backstage, heading toward the dressing rooms, Everett glanced over his shoulder at Wrexham with a gentle laugh. “Darling, it’s a Thursday night. I have a performance.”

  “You do?” Wrexham seemed surprised.

  Everett shook his head, pushing open the door to his dressing room as they reached it. “I can’t simply drop everything to chase after Adler,” he said. “I have an adoring public with an insatiable appetite. They need feeding, love.”

  He gestured for Wrexham to enter his dressing room, and once he did, Everett shut the door behind him. Wrexham shuffled into a corner to stand at attention, which Everett found adorable. Everett tossed his hat onto his dressing table, unbuttoned his jacket, and began shedding his street clothes, all while staring Wrexham straight in the eyes.

  Wrexham cleared his throat, his back going straighter, and clasped his hands in front of what Everett was certain was his growing erection. He would have looked like any other police officer set to watch over a public event, but for the pink in his cheeks and the way he deliberately avoided staring at Everett as he undressed.

  Except that he couldn’t help but stare once Everett pulled his shirt off over his head and unfastened his trousers. Wrexham could pretend and deny all he wanted, but the man was smitten. Everett knew adoration when he saw it, and he loved it. He bent to remove his shoes, then shucked his trousers. He was sorely tempted to remove his drawers and fondle himself for Wrexham to see. A little show before the show wouldn’t do any harm. And if he were lucky, perhaps Wrexham would drop to his knees to suck him off.

  That delightful thought was cut short by a knock on the door. The door opened, and the theater’s stage manager popped his head into the room.