A Matter of Time 03 - 04 (Volume 2) (MM)

by Mary Calmes

  His name bounced off the walls of our apartment.

  Afterwards he gathered me close and kissed me until I thought my head was going to explode. I was sure, I told him, that not having air caused brain damage. He couldn't have cared less. He pulled me down on the couch, still naked, into his lap. I felt so good. I never wanted him to leave.

  "I had no idea tight jeans made you so hot, J. I'll hafta file that away for future reference."

  "Sam, I just—"

  "God, I love having you in my lap."

  I just stared at him.

  "You know what the sexiest thing about you is?" he asked me, massaging my ass, pulling me forward over his groin so I could feel the rough texture of his jeans.

  "My ass?" I teased him, as he kissed my nose and my cheeks and my forehead.

  "No," he said, pulling back to look at my face. "Your eyes.

  They're like never completely open, always like half-open...

  like you just got fucked, like minutes before, you were in bed."

  I smiled at him. "That's lovely, thank you."

  "You're being sarcastic but I'm serious."

  I grunted.

  "It's sexy as hell, your bedroom eyes."

  "As long as you think so."

  "And your mouth—you have the most beautiful lips...."

  I put my hands flat on his chest, feeling the sculpted muscles under my palms.

  "And your skin and your ass."

  "See," I scoffed. "I knew you'd get around to my ass eventually."

  "But seriously," he said, hands on my face as he eased me forward, tilting my head at the last moment so he could kiss up my throat. "Your eyes kill me. They burn me up every time."

  I trembled under his hands. The man was so sexy and he had no clue.

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  "I got a call from Aaron Sutter today."

  "You did?"

  "Yessir, I did." I smiled at him.

  "And?"

  "And nothing. He just wanted to make sure I was all right and he wanted to apologize for the fight we had the last time he saw me."

  "What else?"

  "Nothing else, he just apologized. It was nice of him."

  He nodded. "I don't want him around, Jory."

  "He won't be."

  "He didn't want to see you?"

  "I told him that I'd be back to work next week and that he could gimme a call then."

  "And he just let you blow him off?"

  "I didn't blow him off. I just told him that we could talk next week."

  He smiled before clutching me to him, pressing me to his chest, his hands on my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tight. His warm skin felt like heaven.

  "It's nice that he was worried about you, J, but I repeat, I don't want the man around," he said as his fingers slid up the back of my neck into my hair.

  "I know, don't worry."

  "You belong to me, I say when and if he can see you."

  I snuggled in tighter against him. "I should hate that, but I don't."

  "Hate what?"

  "You telling me what to do."

  "Like I fuckin' care what you like or don't."

  He was adorable. "Don't swear."

  The back of his fingers slid under my chin and when it was lifted, his mouth settled over mine. He kissed me lazily, his tongue tangled with mine, and I was content not to move and let him.

  "Hey, hold this."

  I couldn't stifle my chuckle as I was passed the lube. "You are seriously scary."

  "You talk too much—lift up," he said as he pushed his jeans and briefs down to his knees with one hand and took the lube from me with the other.

  "Don't you hafta go back to work?"

  "After."

  When I was lowered over him, I watched his head roll back on his shoulders, the way his chest constricted, and the slight tremble that ran through his frame. There was a sense of power that came with knowing that I caused all that. His reaction to me was honest. He couldn't fake it.

  "You like me." I smiled, looking at his closed eyes, watching him wet his lips, hearing his shaky breath. "You like doing this to me."

  His hand ran down my abdomen to my cock; the fingers stroking me felt incredible. "My beautiful baby," he said softly. "Love being inside you."

  I loved it too.

  "You're never gonna leave me."

  And there was something solid and comforting about his declaration, because I tended to test the limits of what I could do and he was telling me that whatever drama or stunts were thrown his way, he would endure. He was strong, I wouldn't wear him down. I couldn't get him to stop loving me like every other guy had before.

  "Kiss me."

  And when I did, when I slanted my mouth over his, kissing him hard and deep, I heard the sigh of contentment come up from his gut.

  "God, I love you," he groaned.

  I told him the feeling was mutual.

  * * * *

  A half hour later, after I had him cleaned up and changed into a long-sleeved button-down shirt over the T-shirt, I walked him back down to the front stoop. I received a bruising, thorough kiss that left me breathless, and waved like a crazy person when he got to his car. I heard the chirp of the alarm and then the SUV exploded.

  It was so fast. It was there one second, gone the next—the flame turning into a fireball that blew over the top of the next car, dying in the snow beyond it. I heard dogs barking and every car alarm on the street blaring as I ran in my bare feet across the lawn to the sidewalk, to the street. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, I was conscious of my panting breath and the way my heart felt—like a knife had been driven through it. There was a smell like rubber burning, the truck itself now a charred, twisted piece of metal. Sam was lying on his back in the street and I fell to my knees beside him. I put my head on his chest, but I couldn't hear anything.

  I touched him everywhere at once, checking for signs of life.

  It was unreal and I kept looking around for something that I could point to and know I was dreaming. I had bruises on my skin that he'd put there just a half hour ago, my lips were still tender from his kisses, and now he barely had a pulse as he lay there, unconscious and bleeding in the street. I rifled through his peacoat, but when I found his cell phone it was smashed, the display black. I started screaming then, yelling for someone to call 911. I should have run back inside, I should have left him to get help, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave his side. I could only sit there.

  Chapter Six

  Sam had changed things and not let me know. So when they came to tell me that he was bleeding internally and that they were going to operate, they actually wanted my permission. They had done something—MRI, CTI, letters I didn't really understand but that meant something—and still they couldn't really know how much damage had been done until they cut him open. They wanted my permission to cut him open. I wanted someone else to decide what to do, but there was only me. I had to fill out forms and sign on the line with the word "consent" under it. I had talked to his parents and his captain and his partner and it was all too much for me until Dane showed up. He had a way of dealing with madness, and so he sat with me and made everything calmer for a little while.

  Regina Kage sat on one side of me, Aja on the other, while Dane paced along with Sam's dad and Michael. Soon the waiting room was full and still there was no word. We had to wait and see and it was slowly driving me insane. Dane went back to my apartment with a police escort and got me shoes and socks and my heavy fisherman sweater. He made it back right before I froze to death, still in the tank top and jeans that Sam had seen me in last. The socks and my boots were the most needed; hard to go barefoot in a hospital, since they kept the temperature at meat-locker cold.

  I sat there for nine hours staring at the ceiling tiles, three more watching people get coffee from the machine, remembering that Sam and I had just been there together not even a month ago, when Mica was born. I let Regina tell me everything wo
uld be all right, I let Aja put her arm around my shoulders and hug me tight. Sam's captain came and squeezed my hand; Chloe put her hands on my face and promised me that Sam was way too tough to die. Dane just looked at me, saying nothing because he didn't know anything yet, the realist that he was unable to give me false hope. Somehow that was the most comforting, because it wasn't the time to be sad yet, or worry. We had no idea what was going on, the time for panic would be later, if at all. No reason to get ahead of myself.

  Swarms of policemen came and went, there were reporters that spoke to his captain outside the hospital about the incident, and the FBI guys lingered on the edge of the circus.

  One of the reporters got upstairs with a cameraman and tried to talk to Sam's family and me, but he was dragged away by uniformed policeman before he could get too close.

  Apparently the captain didn't mind answering questions about Sam's service record, his time on the force, or his injuries, but his relationship to me was not for public knowledge. And even though Aja said it shouldn't matter, I thanked the captain anyway. Dane told me later that there was another FBI agent coming, but I didn't listen to who it was or when he would show up. The only thing I could do was wait to hear about Sam. My mind could focus on nothing else. I stared out the window and tried to picture my life without Sam Kage. I couldn't see it, and took that as a good sign.

  Almost everyone was asleep when the surgeon finally emerged early the following morning. I was up and out of my chair so fast that I upset Regina and Aja, who were asleep on either side of me. I reached him and stood there, holding my breath as the others crowded around us. I waited for my life to either begin or end. Dr. Kohara didn't look at anyone but me.

  "He lost a lot of blood, Mr. Harcourt," he sighed deeply, looking absolutely weary. "But we're confident that he'll make a full recovery. He's got a very strong heart, he's in good physical health, and he's a fighter."

  I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

  "We had to remove his spleen and I know that sounds scary, but it's really not. I'm sorry we had you wait so long without word on him, but even though it was critical at the beginning, he really came through so much better than we could have hoped."

  I nodded.

  He smiled slightly. "He's going to heal well. He didn't sustain any traumatic damage to his brain or spine. He's a very lucky man, it could have been so much worse."

  I couldn't stop nodding.

  "You can come in and maybe one more person, but that's it."

  I grabbed his hand, squeezed tight. "Thank you—really...

  thank you."

  He nodded, his eyes on mine, and suddenly smiled.

  "What's your first name?"

  "Jory."

  He sighed, his hand going to my shoulder. "I thought it might be—he said it a lot."

  I felt the smile on my face.

  His smile deepened. "Something about a swear jar?"

  "I'm working on him."

  "Well, that's good. All of us should have someone trying to help us be better."

  I felt like the tears were just waiting to drown me and him and everyone else for miles.

  "Come on—who's coming with you?"

  I reached for Regina's hand and she grabbed mine tight.

  We followed after Dr. Kohara together.

  The room sounded like a pet store full of chirping birds, but it was the machines whirling and beeping, little alarms going off, things pinging, all of it there to monitor different parts of the man's anatomy. I was glad he didn't look small in the bed. He looked the same, just still, and the fact that he was breathing on his own, no machine hooked up to his face, made me very happy. His right cheek was scraped and there was dried blood in splotches everywhere. He had a bandage over his right eyebrow, lots of IV tubes coming out of him, and that weird clip thing on his middle finger that kept track of his heartbeat. I put another blanket over his feet because I didn't want them to get cold.

  "His color is good." Regina sighed, her smile brilliant. "Oh, Jory, he looks so good."

  She took the hand without the monitor on it as I leaned up to his forehead and kissed him gently. When I pulled back, I voiced the thought that had been screaming in my head for the past twelve hours.

  "This is all my fault."

  "I'm sorry?"

  I looked over at my boyfriend's mother. "The guy—he went after Sam to get to me. I put Sam in danger. This is all my fault."

  "No-no-no," she shook her head. "This is no more your fault then it is Dane's. This man wants to hurt Dane so he goes after you, and in getting to you now, he's gone after Sam. It's—"

  "Okay," I placated her. "You're right."

  She let me soothe her and I was glad, because it would have been harder if she didn't trust me. I didn't need her checking on me. I needed to be able to leave without anybody realizing it. I knew what I had to do even though I didn't really want to do it.

  I went back out of the room and sent Sam's father in while I thanked everyone for being there. I told them all how he looked and how he was breathing all by himself. I spent the next half an hour hugging them all good-bye and telling each of them how much it meant that they were there. It was tough arguing with Dane because he wanted me to go home with him and Aja. Even though there was a police car permanently sitting on the street in front of my building, he felt like it still wasn't safe enough. Regina came out of the room and wanted me to come home with her. I promised to be there tomorrow, but I wanted to stay at the hospital.

  Everyone understood. Back in the room with Sam, I held his hand and told him how much I loved him.

  "You know, I get it now.... When you left me that time in the hospital, I mean—I know you had to leave 'cause you wanted to keep me safe. There was more to your—being gay was a brand new thing and it was hard for you and... you had to figure out that part, but now I get the whole leaving to keep me safe 'cause I'm gonna go too." I smiled at him. "I gotta find this guy Sam—I can't let anyone hurt you again.

  My heart won't recover from any more of this shit."

  I leaned up and kissed his lips, and when I pulled back I stared at his face a long moment, engraining it in my memory. It would have to last just for a little while.

  I went home and packed a small duffel bag at nine in the morning. I turned all the lights on in the apartment, left one on in the living room but then turned off the one in my bedroom an hour later. I went out the window to the fire escape and took that to the alley behind my building. The cops never even saw me leave.

  Chapter Seven

  My plan was simple and logical, because the way I figured it I had one course of action left open to me. I had to retrace my steps and start from where the car had been abandoned.

  Because if I could find the place where the carjackers got the car, perhaps from there I could work my way back to where I'd been held. It seemed reasonable. So I went back to the vacant lot beside the liquor store and staked it out.

  The room I rented usually went by the hour instead of by the day. This was what the manager had told me as he counted the ten twenty dollars bills I gave him. He usually didn't give out a bathroom key, but since I'd given him cash, I was given access to the shower. I wasn't to loan it out. He didn't have to worry; I wasn't planning on having company over. I took up my place in the windowsill of my room and watched the vacant lot across the street from me. I was convinced of one thing—the two guys that had stolen the car from the kidnappers lived somewhere in the neighborhood.

  People were creatures of habit, so my theory was if I just staked out the liquor store, I would find the men I was looking for.

  The heat in the room was minimal so I had my peacoat, muffler, and beanie on as I looked through my binoculars across the street. I answered my phone when it rang without even looking at it.

  "Hello?"

  "Jory, where are you?"

  "I'm on a stakeout," I told my brother. "How's Sam?"

  "He woke up this morning and he wants you."

  "Ni
ce try," I said slowly, checking up and down the street.

  "I talked to one of the nurses this morning. She said he was sleeping soundly and they're gonna move him out of ICU

  today."

  "Where are you?"

  "I answered already."

  "What does that even mean? You're on a stakeout where?"

  "See, I have a theory."

  "God, do I even want to know?"

  "No, listen—if I can start at where I ended and find the guys that took the car from the kidnappers, then I've got a jumping-off point."

  "And you don't think the cops thought of this."

  "Since they never even asked me what the carjackers looked like, I'm gonna go with no, they never thought of it."

  There was a silence.

  "You know I forget to tell you how smart you are sometimes, and you are. That whole line of thought is not bad—however... letting the police take it from there is still the best option."

  "So you think it sounds good? Backtracking?"

  "Yes. When you lose something, you retrace your steps.

  You want to know where you were, so you backtrack to the last place. That makes sense."

  "See?"

  "But that doesn't mean you should do it alone. Tell me where you are and I'll come sit with you."

  "No thanks, I've got this."

  "The hell you do. The guy who wants you could be watching you right now. You could be killed or worse or... just tell me where the hell you are before I call the police."

  "Call them—they can't find a kidnapper who tried to kill one of their own, you think they can find me?"

  "Jory—"

  "I'm not coming home until I figure this out, Dane, so just... do me a favor and watch over Sam, all right? I took care of Aja, now it's your turn to watch over him."

  "Jory—"

  "I love you," I said and hung up. When he called back I didn't answer.

  * * * *

  It reminded me of living at the YMCA, and then with the four other guys I lived with when I first moved to the city. I had always been cold, both places smelled, and the rooms were dirty. Sitting in a cramped position watching the liquor store, alternating between using my binoculars and not, I realized how boring stakeouts were in real life. They always looked fun in the movies. But lots of things looked like more fun in the movies.