Bad Behavior

by K.A. Mitchell

  “Red. Okay? Red.”

  Tai blessed Nic for teaching him to always have quick releases on restraints. Both David’s hands were free before he’d safeworded a third time. But he repeated the word over and over as Tai released the clips on his ankle cuffs.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered as David curled into a silent ball. Tai reached for David’s shoulder but hovered an inch above his skin. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, but don’t try to get up until you feel steady.”

  “I hate this.”

  David’s mood had shifted fast enough to give Tai whiplash, but those words spread something cold and hollow through him, until he wondered which of them would end up in the bathroom hiding a reaction under running water.

  David uncurled enough to roll his shoulders and head to look to where Tai stood at the foot of the bed. “It’s so damned stupid.” David’s laugh echoed the hollowness in Tai’s chest.

  “What is?”

  “I want it so much. I fucking love it. What you do, everything.” David paused. Swallowed. “And then.” He shook his head. “First time I ever got drunk enough to puke, Chip Montgomery slapped my back as I was hanging on to the toilet for dear life and said, ‘If you run with the big dogs, you’ve gotta learn to piss in the tall grass.’ Guess I’m still learning.”

  Tai stood silent, waiting.

  “I’d rather—Don’t go. Please.”

  “Okay.” Tai sat on the bed next to him.

  When David moved closer, Tai stroked a hand down David’s spine. “I’ve never been much of a backslapper.”

  “Really? Would have figured you for a sports guy.”

  “Figured right. But that’s all ass slapping and chest bumps.”

  “I think I’ll pass on both right now.”

  Tai’s phone launched into Gina’s ringtone.

  David followed Tai’s gaze to his shorts. “Do you need to get that?”

  Tai leaned back on his hands. “No. Not unless it rings again.”

  “Your… daughter?”

  He hadn’t given David time to ask any questions on the phone yesterday. Hadn’t ever expected to mention Sammie to—

  The phone went off. “Sorry.” He fished it out.

  “She’s all right,” Gina said immediately, though from that opening and the strain in her voice, his baby girl was anything but all right.

  “What happened?”

  “There was an accident. But she’s okay. Might have broken her wrists.”

  “Wrists? Gina, what happened?”

  “She got hit by a car. She’s okay.” How did hit by a car equal okay?

  “I want to talk to Daddy Tai.” Sammie’s voice, thank God her voice, sounded from somewhere. And then a lot of other voices, indistinct, and one saying, “How about a ride, princess?”

  “We’re going for X-rays now.”

  “Where are you? Johns Hopkins?”

  “Mercy.”

  “What the hell for?” Gina worked at Johns Hopkins. His mother worked at Johns.

  “It was closer. I have to go. She wants you to come.”

  “On my way.”

  He pressed End, though disconnecting by throwing the phone through the nearest wall felt like a better plan, then turned back to David. Who was gone.

  Tai yanked up boxers and shorts and was reaching for a T-shirt when David appeared in the doorway, dressed and leaning on his cane.

  “I have to—” Tai started.

  “I know you have to go,” David interrupted. “I’ll see myself out.” His voice was firm, and if the windows weren’t toward the sun, Tai might not have noticed how pale David’s face was. But after what had happened, there was no way Tai could miss the flatness of his eyes or the faint vibrations in the hand that held the cane.

  “No. You’ll get in my car.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ONE OF the reasons Beach was used to getting his way was that he could predict the argument against him and be a few steps ahead.

  At that moment, he ran the projected conversation like this.

  Me: I’m all right.

  Him: Like you were last time. (A snort for emphasis.)

  Me: I’ve had practice now. I promise to drink some juice and make no sudden movements.

  Him: I don’t have time to argue with you. (Accompanying growl.)

  Me: So don’t. Your daughter needs you.

  Yes, that should work. But before the words left his mouth, Tai stood in front of him. Next time Beach would have to take into account the way sub drop also slowed down his brain.

  “David. Let’s go.”

  A hand on the back of his neck, warm thumb rubbing behind his ear, made Beach as docile as Jez when Tai told her to stay.

  His well-used muscles protested the uncomfortable passenger seat in Tai’s cramped Focus. Beach’s Spider waited across the street, gleaming like the ocean where it touched the sky. He couldn’t believe he was leaving it there among the jetsam of indifferent crossover wagons, battered trucks, and faded minivans. He should be cradled in the Spider’s Daytona-style seat, driving away from all the thoughts that asked him what the hell he was doing, what kind of man was he to let another man use him like that. The gruff, explicit demands from Tai that made Beach’s knees give way like rusted hinges would have made Beach offer to punch the shit out of a man who spoke like that to a woman.

  There was one piece of bondage that his safeword couldn’t get rid of. The damned monitor kept him trapped here, where one text would send him crawling back, hungry to learn how much further, how much higher Tai could take him.

  The seat belt jabbed into his neck, too tight across his chest, and he clawed it away from his skin.

  Tai covered Beach’s hand and lowered it. “You passed out last time.” It was that soft, sexy rumble that had hooked Beach from the first.

  “I hadn’t eaten.” Beach slid his hand away, but Tai’s palm rested warm and heavy on Beach’s thigh, heat sinking through the khaki, solid as an anchor.

  “I need to go see Sammie.”

  Beach filed away Tai’s daughter’s name.

  “And I need to take care of you,” Tai continued. “That means you come with me.”

  It was high-handed. Insufferably arrogant. And possibly the only time anyone had ever said that to him.

  He’d had to chase his mother to London after his father split for Venezuela. Even Gavin, as good and loyal a friend as he was, seemed more inclined to put up with Beach than to encourage his presence.

  Tai’s words might be part of the formula of kneeling and leather and checklists. But a lifetime of sifting through platitudes and polishing them to sparkle with sincerity made Beach keenly aware of when someone was only mouthing the expected.

  Tai meant it.

  All Beach had to do was accept it. “Yes, Sir.”

  Tai brushed a thumb along Beach’s jaw, fingers light on the top of his spine.

  That horrible, clenching emptiness left Beach’s gut on the next breath. Maybe the key to not having sub drop was to keep subbing. Hair of the dog? He barely smothered a laugh at the thought.

  Tai’s hand landed back on Beach’s knee. “Better?”

  Beach considered what advantage there was in denying it. But he didn’t want what Tai was offering to come out of manipulation. It wouldn’t feel this good. Besides, it wasn’t as if Tai would stop the car and leave Beach there in Little Italy to walk home.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Tai squeezed Beach’s leg.

  WHY DID hospitals all have the same smell? Beach must have inhaled so much of it during his coma that he went cold from the first breath. As soon as the emergency room doors slid shut behind them, Beach worked to tune out the rest of the waiting room. Pacers, bleeders, people doubled over in pain, and one woman sobbing uncontrollably. A woman in wine-colored nurse’s scrubs came up to them. Beach winced. If a nurse was coming to meet them, it must be very bad. And Tai had wasted time on Beach?

  “Toluaotai.�
�

  “Tina.” Tai bent and kissed the nurse’s cheek as she reached up to pat his.

  “She’ll be fine, la’u tama.” The nurse hugged Tai.

  “She’s just a baby.”

  “All the better. She’ll heal fast.” The nurse kept a hand on Tai’s arm and gave Beach a solid appraisal that made him all too conscious of the fact he’d barely had a chance to towel the come off him. And he was sure his hair was styled à la just-fucked.

  “Tina, this is David Beauchamp. David, this is my mother, Kara Mosely.”

  “Your mother?” Beach tried to keep the shock out of his voice. The middle-aged black woman in nurse’s scrubs was Tai’s mother. Beach snuck a comparative glance at the man he was… dating? Fucking? Submitting to? Beach recovered and offered his hand. “—Is a very beautiful woman. And I am honored to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Nice save,” Tai murmured with a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m going to go see Sammie.” He tromped off toward the triage desk, leaving Beach to draw on every skill he’d perfected over years of social fencing.

  “How do you know my son, David?” Her glance lingered first on Beach’s cane, then on the ankle monitor.

  “Everyone calls me Beach, ma’am. Ah, socially.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  That might have freed him from the fear of accidentally outing Tai, but he still didn’t know how to answer. He supposed his being brought along on an urgent errand made them seem longer acquainted.

  “We haven’t—”

  A roar from Tai spared Beach from answering.

  “She’s asking for me! Her mother called. For God’s sake, would it kill you to go ask? There’s two of you in there.”

  Behind the glass partition, the nurse facing Tai said, “I can’t release any information. If a parent wants you, they’ll come get you, but only two people are allowed with a minor patient.”

  “I heard you the first time. Jesus Christ. Go ask them.”

  “Sir—”

  “Toluaotai.” Kara Mosely’s voice wasn’t that loud, but the authority in it cut through the protests of the nurse and Tai. “Boy, you need to take all of the seats. Right. Now.”

  Tai pushed away from the partition and strode toward the entrance doors and then through them.

  “He’ll cool down. Boy has always had a temper. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  But Beach hadn’t. Tai’s rumbling voice demanded obedience, but never with anger.

  Always steady, in control. Solid. Even when he spoke of punishing, there was never a hint of the rage Beach had just seen.

  “He’s told you about Sammie?” Despite her reassurance, Kara watched the doors for her son’s return.

  “Yes.”

  “We were so sure she was his. Even after Josh came back. Don’t think he’s quite adjusted to that. But how could he? She’s his baby.”

  Beach filled in the few gaps. No matter what had happened with Sammie’s mother and Josh, Tai obviously still considered Sammie his daughter. And he damned well deserved to be with her.

  Mercy Hospital took no chances with security. The nurses behind the glass controlled access to the doors leading from the waiting room. One came out to take the patient with a blood-soaked towel around his hand through to the back.

  It was good from an insurance and business model perspective, but hell on waiting.

  Beach hated waiting.

  “Please excuse me for a moment, ma’am,” he told Kara and stepped away, pulling out his phone.

  It only took two calls. Midland-South Health was a name that got people moving if they knew where their bread was buttered.

  Tai came back in as Beach tucked his phone away. With an explosive breath, Tai said, “I can’t get Gina on the phone.” He paced around. “How did she get hit by a car? She knows better than to play in the street.” Tai paced and muttered before looking up. “David, sit down.” It wasn’t the frustrated snarl he’d been using, but softer, a mildly exasperated concern. As Beach sat, he wondered how long there had been between Tai learning of Sammie’s paternity and Jez coming to live in the apartment on South Streeper Street. Now there was Beach to order around in that fond but stern voice.

  Doctor Stevenson cleared the doors to the emergency room in just under five minutes from the time Beach had hung up. The white coat and ID might have labeled him a doctor, but the tie and crisp blue dress shirt said he hadn’t seen an ER patient all day. He combed a hand through the thin wisps of hair at the apex of a frowning brow.

  “Mr. Fonoti?”

  Tai started toward him, and Doctor Stevenson’s eyes widened behind his glasses.

  “I’m Doctor Stevenson, the director of the emergency department.” He offered a handshake, then continued with a trace of a grimace. Whether the expression was from the force of Tai’s grip or the doctor’s attempt at looking contrite was hard to determine at a distance. “I’m so sorry you were kept waiting, sir. Things can get a little cramped back there. I hope you’ll understand. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to—back.”

  Tai glanced over his shoulder, and Beach found himself nodding encouragement along with Tai’s mom.

  The doors buzzed, and Doctor Stevenson led Tai through. Beach leaned back and rolled his cane across his thighs until Tai’s mother pinned him with a sharp look.

  “Don’t you just look like the cat that ate the cream and both of the canaries.”

  Beach sat up straight. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  “Don’t ‘excuse me, ma’am’ when you’ve got feathers all over your lips. How did you do that?”

  Beach put his cane against the floor and studied the tip. “I simply knew the right person to call.”

  Kara didn’t have her son’s thick brows or his intimidating muscles. But she did have a look that had Beach ready to confess sins he hadn’t even thought of committing.

  “Are you a drug dealer?”

  Beach dropped his cane. “Ma’am?”

  “Mafia of some kind?”

  “I—No. Not at all.”

  Kara’s eyes lasered in on his anklet and then back up to his face. “You going to try to tell me that you got your anklet at a craft fair at the county jail?”

  “No, ma’am. I got myself into some trouble. But Tai didn’t know about this”—he pointed at the monitor with his cane—“until after we’d—ah—met.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind I’m ashamed to admit. Though it seemed like it was the right thing at the time. If I had to do it again—”

  “You’d do the same damned thing.” Their voices were nothing alike, but Kara sounded exactly like her son.

  “Probably,” Beach conceded with a rueful smile. “But I wouldn’t have made the mistake of involving a friend the way I did.”

  Beach didn’t know what he’d expected of Tai’s family. He hadn’t actually given it any thought, though he’d known the man hadn’t randomly appeared on the planet. Now seeing Kara’s perception, her obvious force of will, it was clear where Tai had come by some of his personality. Certainly Kara would have needed that kind of strength to deal with Tai as a child—and adult.

  “And what happened to your friend?” There was a warning in her voice. A maternal protectiveness Beach had only encountered from a distance before.

  “He’s all right. Unscathed in body and in terms of his relations with the police.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  “I wasn’t as lucky, no, ma’am.”

  Kara glanced toward the nurse-guarded inner sanctum of the ER and then back for another slow once-over of Beach. “You’re not the sort of man I would have expected Tai to bring around.”

  Again Beach tried to picture what sort of man—submissive—Tai had been with before.

  He didn’t tell his mother about that part, did he?

  “Though you must be important, or you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Beach hurried to clear that up. “My being here is only a matter of timing. I—T
here wasn’t a way for Tai to get here without me tagging along.”

  “I’m sure you know well enough Tai would have found another way if he wanted to.”

  Beach smiled to concede her point. “He is direct.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” Kara’s demeanor softened from her inquisitor role, leaving Beach feeling like he’d cleared the most difficult stretch of the course.

  Noting the gold band on her left ring finger, Beach asked, “Is his father the same?”

  “Tai’s father passed away when he was only a baby.”

  “I’m sorry.” And he was. His own parents might not be ideals, but at least they’d been present awhile.

  “So am I. I think he’d have been pleased.”

  “Tai is a son to be proud of,” Beach said quickly. As the words left his mouth, he realized it wasn’t only polite conversation. A man who was still devoted to the child he’d learned wasn’t his, a man who saved a poor dog destined for euthanasia, anyone could recognize how Tai protected and took care of others.

  And I need to take care of you.

  Beach twirled his cane between his palms. He wasn’t a child or a dog to need rescuing. And that was Gavin’s schtick, ending up screwing the cop who’d found them when Beach and Gavin went off the Key Bridge.

  “What about your family, Beach?”

  “Ma’am?”

  Kara wasn’t one to be put off by a delaying tactic. “What does your family think about your trouble?” Her emphasis covered everything from his scarred shin to the cane to his ankle monitor.

  “We aren’t that close. My parents prefer to live outside the country.” Beach shuddered to think of what Uncle Sinclair would say about his adventure on Fort Carroll. At least Beach was out of range of his uncle’s peach tree full of switches.

  Kara shook her head. “I’ve never heard of a South Carolina mafia, but you do make me wonder.”

  “Honest, ma’am. The business interests of the Beauchamps are firmly on the right side of the law.”

  “Just not the personal interests?” Kara had him there.

  Beach wondered if she’d had time to do an internet search on her phone while he was slicing through bureaucracy. To find out about why his parents preferred to live outside the country.