by Cari Z.
He let the drink cool for a moment as he wet a dish towel near to scalding, then poured some soap onto one corner of it. His mouth twisted a little. Yesterday he’d done this to clean Elliot up after some of the best sex Lennox could remember; this morning he was doing it to clean blood off his lover’s hands.
At least it isn’t his blood. It wasn’t a comforting thought, but Lennox would take what he could get.
He returned to Elliot with the coffee and the cloth. Elliot looked a little better: his legs had relaxed enough to stretch out to the end of the staircase, and his nose was wrinkled with disgust as he stared at his hands. “This is gross,” he muttered. “So gross. I haven’t touched a dead animal that wasn’t food since the class guinea pig died at my house over Christmas break back in the fifth grade.”
“Let me have them.” Lennox took Elliot’s hands and began rubbing them clean with brisk motions. Elliot let him, his demeanor surprisingly docile though his mouth didn’t stop moving.
“It’s strange. I can handle seeing my own blood, I wasn’t alarmed by that even when I got shot, but if it comes from an animal?” He shuddered. “I loathe it, I really do.”
“I can see that.” Lennox wiped over Elliot’s skin with the soap-free part of the dish towel, checking for any more dark streaks. There was nothing, not even under his fingernails. “I think I’ve got it all.”
“Thank you.” He went to reach for the coffee on the floor, but Lennox kept his hold on Elliot’s hands for a moment.
“Wait, hang on.” Lennox moved Holly off Elliot’s lap, then extended the coffee. “We’ll trade. Both at once might be a lot to deal with right now.”
Elliot frowned as he watched his hands shake. He gripped the mug with both hands so it stabilized enough that he could take a sip, then hummed appreciatively. “This is just how I like it.”
“I know.” Lennox waited for Elliot to take a few more sips before he started to ask the questions burning in his mind. “So, do you have any idea who’d leave half a snake on your doorstep in the middle of the night?”
Lennox expected him to say, I don’t have a clue, or maybe, Neighborhood kids, anything except the truth he seemed to keep so close, but Elliot snorted. “I know exactly who did it. Fucking asshole.”
What, really? “You already know?”
“There’s only one person it can be.”
“Then we need to report this to the police.”
Elliot shook his head. “No, that’s not happening.”
I knew it was too good to be true. “And why not?”
“Oh, there are so many reasons.”
Lennox’s jaw tightened. “I’d like to hear a few of them.”
At first he thought Elliot was going to refuse. His face was guarded. After a moment, though, he nodded. “We can talk in the living room.”
“Once I get a little more dressed.” Lennox was willing to give him some extra time now that Elliot had agreed.
“But covering all that up is such a shame,” Elliot simpered, the remnants of his vulnerability buried beneath layers of persona. He put one hand down on the floor and levered himself to his feet. “I’ll make you the coffee this time.” He walked off, completely ignoring the dirty dishtowel he left behind. Lennox sighed, grabbed it, and went back upstairs. He’d throw it in the hamper while he was up there.
He reassembled his outfit, glancing longingly at the enormous, rumpled bed as he did. The room still smelled like sex―amazing, bone-shattering sex. Lennox’s ass was nicely sore, not painful; he could have gone again this morning. He wanted to go again, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen now.
When he got back downstairs, it was almost like Elliot’s moment of shock had never happened. There was creamy coffee waiting on the living room’s low oak table, along with a granola bar and a bright-red apple. Elliot was sitting on the couch sipping from his own cup, Holly lounging by his side. He’d recovered his aplomb so well, anyone else would probably have believed he was fine. As Lennox’s last commander had been fond of saying, though, you couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter. He could see the slight tremble that made its way down Elliot’s arms every few seconds, and how the fingers of his free hand kept rubbing against his jeans, like he was still wiping something off.
Judging from Elliot’s smile, though, none of that was fair game to mention now. “Sorry about the lack of food,” he said. “I’ve been so busy this past week I forgot to go shopping.”
“It’s better than I eat most days.” Lennox downed half the coffee in one go, desperate for caffeine at this point, then set the mug down. “Thanks. Now, how about you tell me what kind of person would leave a dead animal on your porch in the middle of the night?”
Elliot sighed, so faintly Lennox almost didn’t hear it. “My former boss.”
“The CEO guy?” Since when did high-rolling CEOs go leaving dead animals on people’s doorsteps? And wait— “Isn’t he in jail? Didn’t you get immunity for ratting him out?”
“You make it sound so admirable,” Elliot muttered. “Yes, I did get immunity for testifying against Sheridan Pullman. And yes, he went to jail, but he was recently released. It’s amazing how little time you can end up serving when you’ve got enough resources.”
It still didn’t make sense to Lennox. “Why would a man with all that power resort to a stunt like the snake?”
“Because he’s trying to rattle me,” Elliot said instantly. “He’s showing me that he can get close to me anytime, anywhere. It’s not the first thing I’ve received from him, though it’s definitely the creepiest.”
Lennox had the feeling he knew, but had to ask. “What was the first thing?”
Elliot shrugged. “The pictures I mentioned before. A few other items that let me know he was having me watched. I threw them out.”
He sounded so glib Lennox wanted to smack something. Not Elliot, but a wall, a couch, something. “You threw out your evidence.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Elliot said with exaggerated patience. “Because I’m not going to go to the police.”
“You’ve got good reason to go to the police―you’re being stalked.”
“But not seriously.”
Lennox’s jaw fell open. It took him a second to recover enough to speak. “How is your situation not serious?”
“Because I know Pullman, and I know how he works. He’s a patient man. He’s trying to upset me; he’s trying to disrupt my everyday life. He wants me to go to the police, and I’m not going to give in to that pressure. Not yet, at least. Not until the special election for district attorney is over.”
Of all the fucking non sequiturs. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was an inch away from yelling, but he took a deep breath. “My sister, Vanessa, is one of the candidates for the position. This is the second campaign she’s run for DA. The first time around, I was shot, indicted, and put on trial right before the election. I got a lot of justifiably bad press, and that bad press sloughed off onto Vanessa. I ruined her campaign and did serious damage to her public image.” Elliot set down his coffee and ran both hands through his hair, making it curl a little over his ears. It would have been cute if he weren’t so distressed.
“She did a lot for me when I was younger. Our parents . . . they weren’t around for most of my childhood, and my older brother left the house as soon as he could. It was just me and her most of the time, and once I hit my teens she had to work hard to keep me in line.” He grimaced. “I tried, but I wasn’t always the easiest kid to handle.”
No kid is, Lennox wanted to say, but he held his tongue. After a second, Elliot continued. “After I was shot, I was in the hospital for longer than I should have been, due to issues with me overmedicating. The last thing Vanessa did for me was sign me up for the Bright Future rehab program in Los Angeles. It’s one of the best in the country.
“She let me know before I left that she was done sticking her neck out for m
e, though. I haven’t seen her or her family since. She has two kids; they’re great. I’m allowed to send them letters and presents for birthdays and holidays. No emails, no Facebook, but . . .” He shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.
“Vanessa put me on a good path, and she did her best to keep me there. It’s not her fault I fucked everything up, and I’m not going to ruin her life with my personal issues. If I report what’s going on to the police, news will spread up the chain. It always does. Word will eventually get to her, and to her opponents. I won’t do that to her, not again.”
Lennox couldn’t speak for a moment. There was so much to unpack in that explanation he didn’t know where to begin, but the thing standing out the clearest was Elliot’s absolute determination not to call the cops. Lennox considered doing it himself, but he didn’t have any evidence apart from half a snake in a bag. Nobody would take him seriously, not without Elliot’s corroboration. There had to be something he could do, though.
“Have you tried talking to Pullman directly?”
Elliot shook his head. “There’s nothing to say. He’s trying to disrupt my life, and I’m not going to let him. Pullman can’t do too much―the man’s still on probation. This is him being an asshole to me because I’m about to host my Executive Meetup, and he’d love to ruin my business like I ruined his.” Elliot picked up his coffee again. “As soon as the Meetup is over, things will go back to normal.” He took a sip, then made a face. “Ugh, cold.”
Lennox wasn’t going to let it end there. “You don’t know everything will go back to normal. You don’t know he won’t keep escalating.”
Elliot smiled brightly. It was so obviously fake that Lennox almost hated to look at him. “Well, now that I’ve got this handy-dandy home security system, I’m feeling a lot more secure.”
“A system like this isn’t enough to protect you from someone who’s intent on doing you harm! A burglar, yeah, it’s gonna put them off, but someone like this guy? From the way you describe him, he’s not going to care about alarms.”
“Pullman won’t be attacking me in person. He never does his own dirty work.”
It was like being dropped into an alternate reality, where the less seriously something was said, the less seriously it was expected to be taken. “Who’s doing his dirty work, then?”
“His favorite fixer, I assume. Jonathan Lehrer.”
Lennox wiped a hand over his face and let it briefly rest against his mouth. “The one who forced the wife’s car off the road and got her killed?” he asked at last. “He wasn’t arrested too?”
“He made bail and fled the country. He’s the only person I can think of that Pullman would trust to screw with me. They know too much to betray each other, and Pullman’s still very rich. He can afford to protect him.”
“This is fucked up.” Lennox had had enough of pretending to be calm. “You get that, right? It’s seriously fucked up that you’re being harassed by a man you put in jail and his—his fucking henchman, and you’re not even willing to do anything about it.”
“I’m not going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me, and I didn’t invite you to stay last night so that you could judge my life decisions,” Elliot snapped back. “I just have to make it through the Meetup and I’ll be fine. It’ll all blow over. I can handle it.” He wouldn’t raise his eyes quite enough to look at Lennox, though.
“What if he takes it further?” Lennox demanded. “What if he decides to say ‘Fuck it,’ and tries to kill you?”
“He wants to ruin me, not kill me,” Elliot scoffed. He almost sounded convinced too, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his expression, the arch of his brows pulling together. “He wants to see me suffer. I can’t do that adequately if I’m dead.”
“How do you know that?” Lennox shook his head as Elliot began to reply. “Don’t tell me you’re sure. Tell me you’re positive, because this is your life on the line. You have to do better than sure, and I don’t know that you can.” Elliot’s blithe façade crumpled a little before Lennox’s eyes, and he took a deep breath, as though he were about to say something.
Then the doorbell rang and the moment broke. “It must be your tow,” Elliot said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands down his shirt to straighten it.
Lennox was lost again. “When did you call me a tow?”
“While you were upstairs dressing. I figured you wouldn’t want to stay any longer than you had to, given the events of the morning.” He shrugged. “I certainly can’t blame you.” He walked past Lennox’s chair and headed for the door. After a second of stunned silence, Lennox followed him.
“At least check who it is before you open it,” he murmured when he caught up with Elliot in the hall.
“I’m not an idiot,” Elliot retorted. Lennox bit back his reply while Elliot looked through the door’s peephole. “Unless Jonathan Lehrer has lost forty pounds, six inches, and had plastic surgery to make himself appear Latino, we’re safe.” Elliot opened the door. “Hello.”
“Hey.” The man at the door wore dark jeans, winter boots, and a heavy red jacket with the words Mountain View Towing—Juan embroidered across the chest. “Did you know you got a snake in a bag out here?” He held up the plastic sack and shook it a little.
Elliot went pale. “Yes, right. It’s . . . That should go in the garbage, hang on.” He stepped away and returned with an empty trash bag a moment later. “Here.” Juan set the carcass inside and Elliot tied the bag off with about five knots before he seemed satisfied. “Okay, that’s better.” He gingerly set it down inside the foyer. “Hi.”
“Uh, hi. Did you call for a tow?”
“Yes.” Elliot clapped a friendly hand on Lennox’s shoulder and pushed him forward a bit. “This gentleman needs help getting his truck back into town.”
“Sure, sure.” Juan looked at Lennox. “You got a shop picked out to take it to?”
How had his morning spiraled out of control so quickly? “No, not yet.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Fuel pump, I think.” He could almost feel Elliot’s smirk, but didn’t acknowledge it. The time for playful jokes had passed.
“It’s an old Nissan, yeah? There’s a good place downtown that specializes in them, I bet they could get you in today.”
“That’s fine.” It would do until he could get an estimate, at least.
“Okay.” Juan held out his hand. “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll get her ready to load.”
“Thanks.” Lennox handed them over, and Juan jogged down the stairs and over to his tow truck.
“Efficient,” Elliot murmured, and Lennox snorted as he faced him.
“Just like you. I woke up half an hour ago and already you’re kicking me out.”
Elliot wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “It’s better this way. I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now, obviously, and none of it should be causing you concern. You set me up with an excellent alarm system, let me enjoy your company for an evening, and I’m grateful. But I think this is the best place to end things, don’t you?”
It didn’t sit well with Lennox. Avoiding his problems, physical, mental, or otherwise, had never worked out for him. He couldn’t imagine it was going to work out very well for Elliot either. “I’m not going to stop worrying about you just because you tell me not to.”
“You will,” Elliot assured him. “As soon as you get a little distance. Don’t let one fabulous night in bed blind you to the fact that we barely know each other.” His tone was teasing but his eyes were tired. “Ah, hang on a sec.” He came back a moment later with the apple and granola bar. “Don’t forget these. You need to eat.”
Lennox tugged his coat on and stuffed the food into one of the pockets. “Don’t forget to take care of that,” he said, waving to the garbage bag. “You wouldn’t want Holly to get into it.”
Elliot wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I could forget it if I tried. I’ll run it out to the garbage in a
second.”
They stared at each other in silence for a second before Lennox gave in to his impulse. He caught Elliot by the hand, pulled him in close, and kissed him on the mouth. It was a gentle kiss, not passionate, but Elliot’s lips went from terse to soft in an instant, and he tilted his head in an effort to deepen the kiss.
Lennox pulled away before he could. “Take care of yourself,” he whispered. The next words hovered on the tip of his tongue, and in the end he couldn’t resist saying it. “Call me if you need help.”
He had to leave before Elliot could cut his offer down. So he opened the door and stepped into the cold morning air. He could feel Elliot’s eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t look back.
After a moment, the door shut.
Excerpt from Shockwave’s article:
Of course, for every protestation of Charmed Life’s policy of owning your mistakes and opening yourself to second chances, there’s no denying it’s the things that aren’t being said about McKenzie’s company that are creating all his buzz. His upcoming Executive Meetup has been widely publicized and should be well attended by his proponents, even though it does take place on the day Denver hosts the Super Bowl. But the crème de la crème of Charmed Life’s clientele?
They won’t be going to the Meetup, but to the private and completely anonymous Black Box meeting the same night. These are the people who don’t openly endorse Charmed Life, people who are too famous to risk their public images by admitting they need help getting over their sordid pasts. It’s the information-sharing session that anyone would love to be a fly on the wall for. What does this upper echelon talk about? How do they connect? Just who are they?
McKenzie isn’t telling.
One night shouldn’t have ruined Elliot’s weekend, but by Sunday afternoon, barely twenty-four hours after Lennox had left, he still felt uncomfortably close to pining for his company.
It wasn’t because the man was nice. Elliot had had nice lovers before. It didn’t matter that he was attractive: Elliot invariably found his bedmates attractive, whether they were long and thin or short and stout.