by K. L. Hiers
“Get a move on, mates!” Charlie was shouting. “That settee was on the western wall at an eighty-nine-degree angle, come along!”
“What are you doing here?” Jimmy sighed.
“Oh! Mr. Poe!” Charlie greeted him with a bright smile. “I came calling and found everything terribly out of sorts! Got the men here rallied together to straighten it all up.”
Jimmy paused to touch the broken vase in the foyer, crudely repaired and devoid of flowers. It didn’t look right without its fresh bouquet of calla lilies. “Look, Charlie, I really appreciate this, but I don’t think I’m really in the mood to discuss wedding plans.”
Plus, he desperately needed a shower.
“It’s quite all right,” Charlie said quickly. “I heard the news, very sorry, uh, so vertical stripes are definitely out...”
Jimmy glared.
“How about we assist Monsieur Swenson and finish putting the house back in order while you relax, eh?” Jerry suggested. “I will come get you for dinner, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Jerry, but I think I’m gonna take a pass on dinner tonight,” Jimmy said. “Please just make sure I’m up for the arraignment tomorrow?”
“Of course, monsieur.”
Jimmy headed upstairs, finding Lorre in the lounge still trying to clean up. Everything was nearly back in its rightful place, and Lorre looked absolutely exhausted.
His handsome face was drawn and tired, but he managed a friendly smile when he saw Jimmy. “Hey. How’d it go down at the joint?”
“Cold said, uh, once the search is done that you’re supposed to move on,” Jimmy replied. “I don’t know what that means, but I guess you do.”
“Yeah,” Lorre said, “I do. Jules here?”
“He’s downstairs helping Jerry and that crazy wedding planner clean up.”
“Right,” Lorre said, fidgeting for a moment.
“Right,” Jimmy repeated, unsure of what to say. He had a good relationship with most of the Gentlemen, but things were always tense with Lorre; probably because Duplin had killed Lorre’s brother, and Lorre had once plotted to go after Jimmy for revenge.
“You, uh, have a good night,” Lorre said at last, turning quickly to leave before the tension grew any more awkward.
“Sure. Good night.” Jimmy waved and then headed directly into the bedroom suite, stripping on his way to the bathroom. The bedroom had been cleaned up, but it still didn’t feel right.
Strangers had been here, pawing through all of their things, and it left Jimmy feeling unsure. His own home didn’t feel safe anymore, and it was empty without Cold’s strong presence here.
Jimmy grimaced as he finally peeled off his underwear, fussing to himself as he got the water going. He wanted to wash away this dirty feeling, turning the shower up to scalding and trying to scrub himself raw. It had nothing to do with the dried cum Cold left on him, but everything to do with the people who had come into this room uninvited.
His hands inevitably moved between his legs, and he whimpered softly. The mere brush of his fingers against his cock felt incredible. He was still aching from earlier, and he wanted relief from all of the pressure weighing down on him.
He was worried about Cold and while he wanted to trust him, the situation was dire. The evidence was stacked so high that Cold was practically gift wrapped for the prosecution.
Jimmy couldn’t stop touching himself once he started. He wanted to feel good and escape for a few precious moments. He stroked himself only a half dozen times before he was coming, quietly moaning as his forehead dropped against the shower wall.
He didn’t feel any real satisfaction from it, though his balls were grateful for the release. He thought about trying again in bed and getting some of his toys, but then he remembered that the cops had been in that drawer and touched all those intimate things.
As soon as Jimmy was dried and dressed, he dumped the toys into the trash. It was comical to see so many brightly colored gadgets peeking out of the small bathroom trash can, but he didn’t want any of them.
They could get new toys, Jimmy told himself as he curled up in bed. He rolled over to Cold’s side, hugging his pillows and breathing in his scent. He had no appetite, and he was grateful that Jerry didn’t come bothering him about dinner.
Sleep came, but only in small bursts. When he woke up next and saw daylight, he fumbled for his phone and saw it was already eight o’clock.
“Shit!”
He scrambled to get ready, racing downstairs to find Jerry and Charlie in the kitchen. They were having a very intense conversation in French, and Jimmy didn’t miss the way Jerry was reaching for Charlie’s hand.
Jimmy’s presence startled them, and Jerry exclaimed, “Oh, monsieur! I’m so sorry! I must have lost track of the time!”
“Don’t be sorry. Let’s just go, please,” Jimmy said urgently. “I don’t want to miss the arraignment.”
“Of course! Let’s go!” Charlie said, jumping up with a grin.
“You’re not coming,” Jimmy said firmly as he marched to the door with a scowl. “This is personal!”
“I want to see the two of you reuniting! It’ll be such a great inspiration for your upcoming nuptials!” Charlie insisted. “Please, Mr. Poe. Allow me to accompany you.”
“Fine!” Jimmy groaned, in no mood to argue. He glanced at the empty flower vase and called back to Jerry, “Do you think you can get us to the flower shop and still make it to court on time?”
“Absolument, monsieur!” Jerry promised. “Make sure you both buckle up.”
Jerry once again proved he had the skills of a race car driver, zipping them downtown in record time. Jimmy bolted out of the limo and gritted his teeth as Charlie followed right behind him.
“What kind of flowers are you getting?” Charlie asked eagerly. “Roses for love and passion? Oh, what about carnations—”
“Calla lilies,” Jimmy said with a scowl. “They’re Rod’s favorite.”
“Oh, right! Of course!”
Jimmy rang the bell on the counter and smiled when the clerk approached. “Hi! I’m sorry to rush you, but I’m in a bit of a hurry—”
The clerk froze when he saw Jimmy, starting to backpedal away as he cried, “No, no! I’m sorry! It’s not my fault! They made me do it!”
“What?” Jimmy blinked, totally confused. “Look, I just want some calla lilies, and I’ll be on my way.”
The clerk reached behind the shelves and pulled out a gun, wildly pointing it toward Jimmy. “You tell him, you tell Cold! I didn’t want to!”
Jimmy immediately froze, and his heart seized in terror. “What, what are you talking about?”
Charlie’s hand grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder, pulling him out of the way and stepping forward to confront the clerk. “Listen, mate. We’re not here to cause any trouble. We just wanted some flowers and then we’ll be on our way, all right?”
“No!” the clerk cried frantically. “I can’t... I can’t do this... he’s gonna kill me. That’s why you’re here! Just to fuck with me! I can’t live like this, I can’t!” He brought the gun up to his mouth.
“No! Stop!” Jimmy screamed.
The gun went off.
Chapter Five
All Jimmy could see was red, and his ears were ringing. The blood brought him back to being a child and watching his mother get murdered. He could see the knife, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. The room was spinning, and Charlie tried to catch him before he hit the floor.
The high-pitched screaming echo of the gunshot was still completely blocking Jimmy’s hearing. He was staring up at Charlie, but he couldn’t understand a word he was saying, fixated instead on the blood splattered across his face.
He knew he was going to pass out, his entire body trembling with a dreadful flood of adrenaline.
Breathe...
Jimmy gasped, hearing an echo of Cold’s voice in his thoughts. He knew Cold wasn’t actually here with him, but he focused on the memory of every time his lover had
talked him through these panics.
Breathe for me...
Jimmy inhaled sharply and let Cold’s soothing voice bring him out of the darkness that was trying to swallow him up. He gagged on a mouthful of bile, croaking, “What the... fuck?”
“The clerk just bloody blew himself away!” Charlie’s eyes were wild with panic.
“I didn’t... I don’t know...” Jimmy tried to sit up, jerking when he felt strong hands helping him. “Ugh. Hi, Jerry.”
“I do not think we’re going to make the arraignment, monsieur,” Jerry said softly and squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders.
“I don’t think so, either.”
Charlie was on his phone, undoubtedly calling the police.
Jimmy let himself lean into Jerry’s tight hold to keep himself grounded, and he was grateful that he was still on the floor. The counter blocked the view of the clerk, and he tried to bleach his mind of the vivid memory.
Yelling. Gunshot. Red.
He shuddered, shocked when the shop door burst open and Detective Duplin was standing there. His gun was drawn as he rushed to Jimmy’s side, hissing, “Are you all right? What the fuck happened?”
“I’m okay,” Jimmy said, hating how weak his voice sounded as he pointed weakly at the counter. “He just... he just started screaming and shot himself. He... he just...”
“Monsieur Poe needs a moment,” Jerry said firmly, shutting Duplin down with an icy glare that Cold would have been proud of. “This shop has cameras. You can see what happened for yourself. There is no need to bother him.”
“I have to take a statement,” Duplin said gently. “This is not a good situation, do you understand?”
“Charlie just called the police... how did you... how did you get here so quickly?” Jimmy’s stomach lurched. “Are you following me?”
“Yes,” Duplin replied without hesitation. “Your husband has been arrested for murder. There are going to be eyes on you at all times.”
“Augustus,” Jimmy whispered, clinging to Jerry’s arm to steady himself. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“Jimmy, that clerk was one of the witnesses who was going to testify against Cold. You walk in here the day of Cold’s arraignment, and the guy just happens to shoot himself? Come on.”
“What...?” Jimmy stared, dumbstruck and nauseous. “I didn’t... that’s... that’s not possible! I’ve been coming here for months! I would have known!”
“Officer,” Charlie cut in quickly, his tone unusually harsh, “if you’re trying to insinuate that Mr. Poe holds any responsibility for this tragic accident, you’d best be careful.”
“Who are you?” Duplin scoffed disgustedly.
“Charlie Swenson,” he said fiercely, “wedding planner and concerned citizen. I don’t think it’s very professional to go around lobbing accusations at innocent bystanders like Mr. Poe here.”
“No one is accusing anyone—” Duplin began.
“Really? Because that’s not what I heard!” Charlie smiled sweetly. “And that’s not what I’ll tell the press that is certainly going to be gathering outside at any moment.”
“Why in the hell would anyone believe you?” Duplin snarled, standing up and reaching for his phone.
“Because I speak with an English accent.” Charlie batted his eyes. “People love accents. Plus, I look amazing on camera.”
“I’m calling this in,” Duplin said with a roll of his eyes. “You three, get comfortable.”
Jimmy remained huddled on the floor and ducked his head down. He still felt sick, and he hated that he was missing the arraignment. He hoped Cold was able to get out, but he wasn’t sure.
Was this some terrible part of Cold’s plan? Did he know this was going to happen?
Jimmy didn’t know what to think.
The scene was cleared, and Duplin was kind enough to let Jimmy step outside so he wouldn’t have to watch the body being taken away. He stayed close to Jerry, and he was surprised by how calm Charlie was.
All signs of Charlie’s earlier panic were gone, and he was patiently waiting with them out on the sidewalk. He stepped away only briefly to smoke a quick cigarette.
Cloves, Jimmy thought absently, judging by the smell.
A police officer that Jimmy didn’t know approached them to take their statements. Jerry pretended that he didn’t speak English, yelling in French and refusing to cooperate.
“Look, we walked in, the clerk screamed at us, grabbed the gun, and... and then he shot himself,” Jimmy said quickly. “That’s it.”
“What did he say? What did he say exactly?” the officer pressed.
“I don’t know!” Jimmy cried, shrill and angry. “I don’t remember!”
Charlie’s arm was suddenly around his shoulders and turning him away from the officer. “Can’t you see that he’s in shock? You bloody insensitive prat!”
Jimmy blinked when a camera flash suddenly blinded him. Charlie had inadvertently moved him to be in the line of sight of one of the gathering reporters. Great, he thought, some miserable-looking photograph of him to find in tomorrow’s paper.
“We’ll take their official statements later,” Duplin said briskly, approaching to dismiss the officer. He stared hard at Jimmy and muttered flatly, “Your husband is waiting for you at home. Work this shit out with him. We’ll be in touch, very soon.”
Jimmy’s heart fluttered despite the traumatic situation he was currently stuck in. Cold was home. He was free for now at least, and Jimmy couldn’t wait to run into his arms. He brushed Charlie aside, taking a deep breath as he said firmly, “We can work it out with my lawyer.”
“You heard him, mate.” Charlie grinned smugly and gave Duplin a little wave. “Later.”
“Let’s get you home, monsieur,” Jerry murmured, doing his best to get Jimmy safely into the limo without too much harassment from the press.
Jimmy melted into the seat and glanced up when Charlie joined him. “Thank you. You know, for all of that.”
“It’s my job to keep my grooms happy,” Charlie said cheerfully. “I’m glad to help.”
“You take your job way too seriously.”
“It’s why I’m the best,” Charlie said with a bright grin. “Now! Maybe we can discuss a color theme...?”
He looked so hopeful, and Jimmy couldn’t refuse. “Fine,” he sighed. “What about something with blue and white?”
Charlie was positively gleeful, and he immediately launched into a long lecture about how chic a monochromatic color scheme was and how it could work so well for a contemporary wedding.
Jimmy let him ramble away, admittedly grateful for the distraction. He had never been so happy to see the gates to Cold’s compound, both to be free from Charlie’s matrimonial plotting and to see his lover again.
He practically bolted out of the car when they pulled up to the front door, not even bothering to wait for Jerry. He ran straight inside, calling out desperately, “Rod!”
“In here,” Cold’s cool voice replied.
Jimmy found him in the lounge, calm, collected, and meticulously dressed in a fresh three-piece suit as if he had never seen the inside of a jail cell.
Valdemar was there as well, perched on the end of a sofa and swinging his legs. Lorre and Jules were making drinks at the bar while Pym paced restlessly. All the Gentlemen were there except Tamerlane, who was still presumably in jail, and Thirdsies.
Jimmy rushed into Cold’s waiting embrace, and he was taken aback at how suddenly emotional he was. It came over him in a wave as he stammered, “The cl-clerk... at the flower shop... he... he...”
He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Righteously plugged himself?” Jules offered.
“Shhh,” Cold soothed, a firm hand stroking the back of Jimmy’s neck. “It’s over now.”
“Did you know?” Jimmy demanded suddenly. He jerked his head up to glare at Cold. “Did you know that was going to happen? Wait, no, there’s no way... You couldn’t have... did you?”
“His death was not expected,” Cold said simply, his expression blank.
“But you know who he was?”
“Not until Christine told me yesterday,” Cold replied.
“This can’t be a coincidence—”
“Don’t worry about it now,” Cold cut in smoothly and squeezed Jimmy’s neck lightly. “We have more pressing things to worry about.”
“Like when can my boy come back?” Valdemar piped up. “He’s going a bit stir crazy in his little hidey hole.”
“Can I at least go see him?” Pym asked urgently, turning to face Cold.
“Not yet,” Cold said firmly. “There’s still work to be done. Mr. Waugh’s death has changed my plans, and I will need to adjust.”
“Tamerlane still ready to go?” Lorre asked, sipping at his glass.
“Yes,” Cold said. “Once he’s in the infirmary, you will go visit him.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Lorre said with a coy grin. “I’ll make sure it’s a really productive visit.”
“What the hell?” Pym barked. “Lorre is getting conjugal visits and gets to play doctor while I’m stuck here waiting?”
“There’s more important shit going on than you getting your dick wet,” Jules growled in warning.
“Lorre is going to deliver a message,” Cold said calmly. “Be patient, Pym.”
Pym looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. He fumbled with his glasses, blindly accepting a cup that Jules had poured for him and chugging it.
“Now,” Cold declared, “we move forward with the rest of the plan. Does everyone understand?”
“Absolutely!” Valdemar sang out, hopping off the couch with a leer. “I’ll go pay Geemaw a little visit first thing tomorrow.”
Jimmy flinched hearing that name. Geemaw was an old gangster’s girl who used to work for the SSPD. She’d spent a good portion of her career copying police reports and stealing evidence.
She was the one who provided the blackmail Cold used to force Duplin into helping him. There was no telling what else that woman had stashed away after having worked for the force all of those years.