Aaron stared at him, eyes narrowed. “You’re not telling me everything,” he growled. “There’s something about this guy. Kyle’s special to you. I can feel it.”
Eric stared back innocently. “You’re not your bubbie, partner,” he chuckled. “Don’t have me married off like she wants you to be. I’m quite happy with the status quo.” For now, he admitted silently. He certainly wasn’t averse to things getting a little more serious.
Before Aaron could respond, the radio crackled again with another callout. His partner grunted as Eric started the engine and pulled away from the parking lot. “Maybe we need a double date. You and your man and me and Leah.” Aaron’s face brightened at that prospect.
Eric shuddered. The last thing he wanted to do was introduce Kyle to an inquisitive Aaron. The two men potentially chatting together gave Eric hives. Who knew what might be revealed in the heat of a relaxed or drunken moment. Aaron knew a lot of embarrassing stories Eric would rather not have revealed.
“Sounds good,” he lied as he raced down the road toward their next emergency. “It’ll need to wait until I get back from France in a couple of weeks’ time. I’m subbing for David at that camping trip at Verdon Gorge, remember?”
One of their paramedic friends, David, had broken a leg skiing in Austria a few weeks ago. He’d been desperate and Eric had agreed to fill in as one of the official medics on call at the camping lodge in France at the so-called Grand Canyon of Europe.
Fortuitously, David happened to be the son of the chief medic at Shoreditch, and strings had been pulled to enable Eric to go as part of his on-going training. He was looking forward to it as a working holiday with pay.
He groaned softly when he realised he hadn’t mentioned it to Kyle. Then again, things weren’t serious between them, and still too new. Kyle wouldn’t be bothered if he went away. Would he?
“Oh, yeah, you’re gadding off to Europe to spend time with the rich people,” Aaron sniffed. “Leaving me to be paired up with that twat Rosie.” He rolled his eyes and Eric grinned.
Ross “Rosie” Corkton was a beefy, hairy brute of a man, who constantly sweated in the truck and gave off a cheesy aroma that made them both gag. Rosie was also one heck of a medic.
“Aww,” Eric teased as he glanced at his scowling friend. “You’re gonna miss me. How cute.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I won’t miss your sorry arse,” Aaron growled. He held on tight as Eric took a corner sharply, avoiding a bicycle courier that had darted out in front of them.
“Stupid tosser,” Aaron yelled out of the open window. “You want to be travelling with us then? First-class accommodation in the back, you knucklehead.”
Eric sniggered. Aaron certainly had a way with words.
At least the incident had made him forget the double date.
Eric’s mobile rang as he was walking down the path to his front door. He grinned when he saw who it was, his spirits instantly lifting.
“Kyle. Hey there. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Yeah.” There was the sound of retching and he frowned.
“You okay? You sound sick.”
“I am.” Kyle’s voice was muffled. “I went out today and grabbed a quick doner kebab from a food cart and now I’m fucking puking my guts up.” There was another awful sound as Eric fumbled to get his door open.
“You want me to come over and play medic?” he asked as he threw his keys onto the dining table. “I know it’s late, but I’m happy to do it.” His shift had finished half an hour ago. It was almost eleven pm.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” Kyle’s voice was panicked. “I’ve been in bed all afternoon, and didn’t realise how late it was. Fuck, I’m a complete plonker…”
“Hey, don’t sweat it. You were obviously out of it. Are you sure you don’t want me to check you out?” Kyle’s tired chuckle made Eric’s chest fluttery.
“You know, any other time the chance to get you to play medic and come to check me over would be a resounding yes. But right now, I’m a mess, all barfed out and I just want to get into bed with my bucket. I’ll take a rain check though.”
“Um, okay.” He still wasn’t sure why Kyle had called. “Did you need me for anything else?”
The muffled expletive on the other side of the phone made him laugh softly. “Yeah, I was supposed to pass on a message from Ryan for you much earlier but I forgot. Hence the late night call. When he sent me home, saying, and I quote, ‘You looked sicker than a goat on fucking crack’, he asked if it was possible to remind you about coming around to the club tomorrow before your shift? Apparently, you’re going to be a witness for him on some business thingy. He’s out somewhere this evening where he has no mobile signal or he’d have called to remind you himself.”
Eric had forgotten about that. “Sure. My shift starts at ten, but I’ll pop over a bit before then.”
“Cool. Okay, I’m going back to bed to puke over my sheets and feel sorry for myself. And before you start on me, I have some boiled ginger ale, a packet of crackers and some anti-nausea pills. I’m all set.”
“Hmm. That’s a start. Call me in the morning, let me know how you are.”
“Ahh, you care ’bout me. That’s so sweet.” Unfortunately, Kyle’s cute sentiment was spoiled by another bout of vomiting. “Yuck, gotta go. The porcelain beckons.”
The line went dead. Eric put down his phone and stared at it worriedly. Kyle sounded terrible. What they had was still new, but the last thing Eric wanted to do was be overprotective and scare Kyle away. The man had a stubborn streak that’d piss a mule off. If he said he didn’t want company, fine.
Tomorrow when he rang, Eric would see if he could get another date for them to meet up again before…fuck. He still hadn’t said anything to Kyle about the upcoming France trip.
Tomorrow, he promised. I’ll let him know then when we speak.
Unfortunately, Eric didn’t get the chance to speak to Kyle before Eric left two days later. Knee-deep in amniotic fluid delivering a pair of twin girls at the time, he’d missed Kyle’s call the next afternoon explaining in detail that he felt much better.
After the babies, Eric and Aaron’s other call-outs hadn’t been as rewarding and were doubly demanding. Over the next two days, London seemed to go crazy. They treated a man with a suspected heart attack, which turned out to be chest pains because he’d taken too much Viagra. They attended two student suicides at a local University, both heart-breaking and sobering. Drug overdoses were rife, as were stabbings. And when they called on an old man with dementia, he was dehydrated and delirious with pain from a beating by a gang of youths. When he saw Aaron, the poor man thought Aaron was his son, and Eric’s heart had broken.
In between this were the usual 999 calls that should have been referred to doctors and night clinics.
Already exhausted, disheartened, depressed and grumpy from lack of sleep—more nightmares had kept him up at night—when the time came for Eric to get on the plane to France, he’d sighed with relief.
His inner voice whispered, I’m sure he’s not going to miss me. He doesn’t need me being all moody in his life. I’m bad company right now.
Chapter Nine
Kyle wasn’t at work pining over the fact he hadn’t heard from Eric in a couple of days. He definitely fucking wasn’t.
His last message telling Eric he was feeling better had been unanswered. He didn’t even know if he’d read it. Not for the first time, Kyle wished he’d used Messenger or WhatsApp so he could tell.
He’d been tempted to call, but a streak of bloody-mindedness had crept in, a little voice whispering that perhaps Eric didn’t want to be contacted. That he wasn’t interested anymore.
Damn his insecurities. Kyle scowled and kicked the floor moulding moodily. Then he formed his mouth into a fake smile and knocked once on Ryan’s door before he opened it, then entered.
He had a job to do on pain of death from a positively scary man.
Ryan smiled up at him from
his desk. “Hey, everything okay out there? Need me for anything?”
Kyle kept the smile on his face. “Nope. All under control, boss. How are you feeling?”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m fine and dandy. Chomping at the bit to get back to work without a bunch of fucking nursemaids watching my every move.”
Kyle grinned for real now. He sat down on the corner of Ryan’s desk. “Ooh, full-blown bitch alert. Isn’t it nearly your bedtime?”
Mango had insisted Ryan be home by ten every night as part of his recovery. Kyle was Mango’s unwilling accomplice.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Fuck. You.”
It was only nine pm.
Kyle sniggered. “Not my rules, boss. Them be Mango’s commands.” He peered over the desk down at Ryan’s legs. They were covered with black chinos but Kyle knew what had been under them until a few days ago. “At least those awful stockings have gone,” he drawled, fanning his face like a Southern belle. “I do declare, sir, such a shade of puce I never did see on a gentleman of your standing.”
Ryan chuckled. “Shut up, you.” He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Thank fuck they’ve gone. I hated wearing them. Such passion killers.”
“How are things…down there?” Kyle waved in the direction of Ryan’s groin.
In a weak moment, Ryan had confided that the medication he was on had caused some technical issues in sustaining an erection. The doctor had said it was normal and would resolve itself over time but Kyle knew Ryan was mortified it had happened.
“Getting better,” Ryan said. “It helps the medication is now maintenance only and not as high a dose as it was. I’ll be able to give it up for good in a week or so, I hope.”
Mango will be helping you get it up tonight, Kyle thought wickedly. He’s not going to let you off easy. Get you off, more likely.
He nodded, trying to keep the smirk off his face. “You’ve been through a lot, Ryan. And you came out with flying colours. Not many aftereffects, a clean bill of health, apart from the check-ups. You’re a lucky man.”
“I am,” Ryan acknowledged. “I give thanks every day for coming through it like I did.”
Kyle nodded and looked at his watch. “It’s time to leave the office, boss. Mango asked me to get you home a bit earlier.”
Ryan frowned. “Why?”
Kyle tried to keep the glee out of his voice. He knew exactly what was going on. He’d helped Mango pick out the outfit for Ryan, who was going to look so damned hot in it.
“Dunno. He told me to kick my boss out at nine o’clock sharp or he’d come down and get you himself.”
Ryan swore but he stood, looking for his suit jacket. “Damn man is a pain in my arse.”
“Isn’t that the whole point?” Kyle smirked. “Have you seen Eric lately? He hasn’t been around since he came in a while ago.”
Or since we had a breathless, heavenly frot at my place.
Ryan shook his head. “No, he’s away for a couple of weeks. He went backpacking with some friends in the Grand Canyon, I think.”
Kyle’s stomach clenched, his chest constricting.
Eric went away to the US and didn’t even bother to let me know? Bastard. A text would have sufficed.
He forced himself to stay calm. “Oh. That sounds cool. Well, you’d better get going before that boyfriend of yours comes down and drags you away.”
He shooed Ryan out of the office and watched him climb the stairs to his flat. Once he was out of sight, Kyle went into the office and closed the door. He stood, shoulders bowed, staring out of the window.
Kyle sat nursing his drink, staring at the frenzied hordes of hopeful gamblers surrounding him. He’d come down to the Hippodrome Casino in the West End in the hopes it would lift him out of his doldrums. So far all it had done was get him tipsy and make his hands itch to take over from the croupier and earn himself some money at the craps table.
He watched idly as the dealer shuffled the cards and dealt another losing punter his hand.
“So, are you going to drink that or just glare around the room looking sexy?” The lilting Jamaican voice made Kyle look up as a rather attractive black man, perhaps a few years older, sat down next to him. Tall, clean-shaven and dressed in a deep blue suit with a light yellow shirt and matching tie, he looked made for the cover of a fashion magazine. Then the man grinned, making him look even more delicious.
Kyle looked down at the whisky he’d been nursing. “I’m drinking it, just making it last. This place isn’t cheap.” Shit, now he’s going to think I’m asking him to buy me a drink.
Sure enough, Jamaica laughed. “Then, my friend, I shall buy you another while you finish that one.” He gestured to a passing waitress who swished over and took the order.
Kyle panicked. He didn’t tend to take drinks from strange men in casinos. He’d learnt his lesson a long time ago on that one.
“No, shit, that wasn’t a hint to buy me a drink. Honestly, I’m fine with this one.”
“Nonsense. I insist. A beautiful man like you deserves it.”
Kyle frowned. “It’s a little risqué to go around paying that type of compliment to strange men in places like this. How do you know I wouldn’t pop you one in the nose for trying to come onto me?” He squinted through slightly hazy eyes. Crap, the whisky was starting to go to his head with mega force now.
The man reached out a hand. Kyle shook it, and was engulfed in warm skin and firm fingers. “My name is Louis Devon Thomas. Now we are no longer strangers, Mr Violet Eyes. Now please, could you return the favour by giving me your name?”
“My name is Kyle. And my question still stands.”
Louis inclined his head graciously. “You work at Club Delish. I live in this area and frequent it often. I have seen you there. I didn’t expect to see you here on a busy Friday night. From what I have seen of you, you are always working. Imagine my delight when I saw you sitting here. Alone.”
Kyle’s insides constricted and a chill fingered up a spine.
Louis must have seen the flash of panic because he leaned back and shook his head. “I promise you, I’m no stalker. This is a coincidence, nothing more. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Kyle’s face flushed. “Sorry, I’m being paranoid. Ignore me.”
Louis frowned. “I will do no such thing. I saw fear in your eyes just now. You are quite right to question my intentions.”
Wow, that’s unexpected. Someone who doesn’t think I’m a freak.
Kyle toyed with his glass.
“You are not with anyone here tonight?” Louis glanced idly around the busy venue.
Kyle shook his head. “No, the man I’m seeing—or was seeing—disappeared without saying goodbye. I’m on my own.”
Shit, way to bear your soul to a stranger, arsehole.
And it wasn’t quite true. A week ago Kyle had received a text from Eric saying, “Sorry, forgot to mention I was going away. Will catch up with you when I get back.” Then there’d been another text with a photo of a shirtless Eric—looking goddamned tanned and sexy—smiling next to some big-breasted blonde woman in a bikini with the caption “Wish you were here.”
Kyle hadn’t liked that text one little bit. Not the woman bit anyway.
Louis’s eyes brightened. “Were seeing? So, you aren’t together anymore? I stand a chance?” He had an amused and kind face, and Kyle thought he could really like this man and his gentle demeanour.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I thought maybe I scared him away somehow.” His tone was wistful.
Louis leaned in. “You like this man very much. He is special to you, yes?”
Kyle started to say no then shut his mouth. He sighed. “I think he could be.”
Louis stared at him. “Then I shall not hit on another man’s significant other until I am sure there are no emotional attachments. Your man does not know how lucky he is to have you.”
Kyle looked down at his empty glass. He wasn’t used to compliments. Quite the contrary.
Fagg
ot. Dirty sinner. Cocktease. Mario’s hissed words echoed in Kyle’s head.
The waitress arrived with their drinks and Louis took them, and offered one to Kyle. “We shall drink as friends and I will sit here hoping that the next time I see you, you are truly alone.” He raised his drink. “But somehow I think I am not going to be that fortunate. Cheers.” He raised his drink and Kyle clinked his own against the glass.
“Thanks,” Kyle said softly. “You seem like a decent bloke. Maybe under different circumstances…”
Louis chuckled. “I won’t hold my breath. But it is nice to know.”
They drank in comfortable silence.
“I used to work in a casino in Las Vegas,” Kyle finally broke the silence. “Much bigger than this one. I did that”—he gestured over to the croupier dealing cards—“along with working the bar sometimes, handling the cash and the back office. It was a lot of fun but your time is never your own. I think I used to get three to four hours a day to myself, max, because of the shifts I worked.”
Louis leaned forward curiously. “Las Vegas? That must have been incredible. Why are you here now then instead of there? If I were still a gambler, I would never leave such a place.” He made a moue then gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I would probably die there, either from forgetting to eat, or drinking too much while I play the tables. Or some mobster would decide I owe him money and to teach me a lesson.” His face darkened and Kyle saw the shadow in his eyes. “Vegas is not the right place for me.”
“I saw those men,” Kyle admitted. “The ones with a fever in their eyes and hunger in the bellies to spin yet another wheel or pull another slot machine, or turn over another hand of cards. It’s an addiction that’s tough to resist.”
Louis nodded. “I understand it well. I was one of them. But when I realised how badly I let it control my life, I joined Gamblers Anonymous and it has been four years since I played a table, or held a deck of cards.”
Survival Game (Men of London Book 9) Page 9