“Something spicy,” Alejandro said, throwing his robe over his arm. As he reached the bathroom door he turned and trotted back across the room to the bed. He leaned down to kiss Joe once more and whispered, “Love you, my gorgeous, gorgeous Osito.”
Joe was about to kiss him back but laughed instead. “Get in the shower, you, or we’ll never leave the bed!”
“Then I need to start packing.” Alejandro grinned. “I only have two days. It usually takes at least two weeks!”
He kissed Joe’s forehead then sashayed across the room and through the bathroom door. A moment later, music thundered from the room, drowning out the sound of running water.
With effort, Joe got out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, not wanting to get caught out wandering the house in his underpants. He wouldn’t miss the covert vest if he left the job, that was for sure.
Joe left the bedroom door open, but at the top of the stairs, he thought he heard a noise. Something landing with a clang in the kitchen.
Could just be the breeze knocking the blind and sending something flying.
But Joe went back into Alejandro’s room and slipped the PAVA spray into his pocket anyway. He’d feel stupid if it turned out to be next door’s cat, but even so.
As Joe padded down the stairs, he heard another noise. The shattering of china now. Joe didn’t call out. He marched right into the kitchen.
If it’s the bloody cat—
It was Zak.
Joe froze, his hand closed around the PAVA. He was aware of the disarray in the kitchen, but his attention was only on Zak, whose bloodshot eyes bulged in his red face, every muscle in his neck taut. A mess of mucus and white powder crusted his upper lip, his nostrils raw and inflamed. There were scratches on his face and angry red spots.
“What are you doing in the house, Mr Smythe-Unwin?”
“I need to see Al,” he drawled in a voice thick with tiredness. “I need help, mate. I’m in a bad way—”
Joe came a step closer. The weight of the handcuffs in his pocket was reassuring, although it’d been a very long time since he’d last used them. “Where have you been? The police have been looking for you.”
“I don’t know, man, some fucker spiked my stash.” He reeled on his feet, but didn’t fall. “Word is the coppers are looking for me. You looking for me, are you?”
“Yes, we are looking for you. But you’re here now, so…” The silent alarm should’ve been triggered when Zak broke in. There was a panic button right behind Zak. If Joe could get him to move… Keep him calm, Sergeant Wenlock! “You could do with seeing a doctor, couldn’t you? Do you want a cup of tea first?”
“A cup of—” He reeled again, then his face twisted into a snarl and he shouted, “Al! Get your arse down here!”
“He’s busy.” And he won’t hear a thing. Which was good, if it kept him upstairs. And if he wandered downstairs instead and was confronted with Zak, messing up his kitchen— “And he doesn’t want to see you. He told you, Zak, he didn’t want to see you again. So you shouldn’t be here, should you?”
“I shouldn’t be here? What about you? You come in here, giving it all that, laying down the law and the next thing, he’s telling me to get fucked!” Zak’s eyes bulged in his skull as he gripped the back of a chair. He was in a bad way, Joe knew, and he needed an ambulance more than he needed a police car. When he spoke again, he was far quieter. “I’m fucked, mate.”
“Let me ring someone for you, Zak, okay? Get you to that doctor.” Joe took his phone from his pocket. He could see a message from Control on the screen.
Silent alarm triggered at Peanut’s house. Two cars dispatched. Four officers to attend. ETA 5m.
“Is that okay, Zak?”
“Drop the fucking phone!” Zak swept the chair up in his fists and slammed it down onto Joe’s head, raining down furious blows as it splintered against his skull. “Coming in here like— A fucking cunt like you!”
Joe’s hand spasmed and his phone skittered away across the floor. He blinked, suddenly feeling as if everything was very far away and—
Joe grabbed the front of Zak’s T-shirt with one hand. He was back in the present, adrenaline pumping through him. Zak gaped at him, and Joe gripped the spray in his pocket. He marched the struggling Zak backwards and pressed him against the wall. “You’re under arrest.” Joe read him his rights, all the while eyeballing Zak, never blinking once. Zak lashed out again, landing a blow in Joe’s abdomen, but the headbutt he attempted stopped short of its target.
“That’s enough!” Joe grabbed Zak by the arms and dropped him to the floor, where he pushed him face down and pressed his knee into the small of his back as he cuffed him. Joe breathed heavily, soreness across his body from the punch to his stomach leaving him winded. “There’s two police cars on their way, Zak.”
Joe wiped his arm across his forehead. Something wet had been dripping down onto his face, and only then, as he stared at his hand, did he realise he was bleeding.
Someone knocked at the door. “Police! Open up!”
“Get up, Zak.” Joe got to his feet and pulled Zak up. “Let’s go and answer the door.”
There was a risk that Zak might still have enough marching powder doing its work for him to get a second wind and run off through the open front door, but Joe had him by the arm and Zak didn’t protest.
Joe checked the spyhole, reassured by the sight of uniforms on the other side of the door, and the buzz and murmur of their radios.
“One suspect under arrest!” Joe called. “I’m opening the door now.” He whispered to Zak, “And don’t even think of doing a runner, Zak.”
“Fuck,” was all Zak groaned, the word one of utter defeat.
He pulled Zak farther back into the hallway as the door opened and his colleagues came in. Their surprise was evident for a mere second before their professional facades fell into place once more.
In short, clipped words, Joe updated his colleagues. He vaguely heard the music stop and the sound of bare feet trotting overhead, then Alejandro was descending the stairs with a sing-song call of, “Did I hear the—”
The words fell away into nothing as he stared at the scene, at Joe and Zak and the police officers who were all crowded into the hallway of his home. He stared at them, then asked, “What the hell’s going on?”
“I found an intruder in the kitchen, Mr Fuente,” Joe explained. That didn’t happen every time he popped in there for snacks. “Everything’s under control. I’ve arrested him, and my colleagues will take him down to the station for a little chat.”
“How did he get into my kitchen?” Alejandro’s question was directed at the uniformed officers, and in the rising pitch and volume, Joe recognised that brattish exterior his lover donned like a mask from time to time. “This operation has been a fucking joke from start to finish. I’ve nearly had my nose blown off, my studio’s been destroyed and now Sergeant Wenlock’s been beaten up in a house that your bloody commander assured me was safe! This is the last fucking straw, I’m taking it further this time!”
“Mr Fuente.” One of the officers took Zak from Joe, and Joe stood at the bottom of the stairs, his bloodied hand held out to Alejandro. “Mr Fuente, let’s have a sit down.”
Alejandro took his hand and allowed Joe to lead him away, shooting Zak a furious look as they passed.
Joe took Alejandro into the lounge. Once he’d heard the front door close behind his colleagues, he knew they were alone again. Joe sank down onto the sofa, his shaking arms around Alejandro.
“Sorry. It’s the adrenaline. It’s a bugger for making me jumpy! It’ll wear off.” And when it does, everything’ll hurt.
“You’re bleeding.” Alejandro cuddled Joe tight. “Do you need an ambulance? Oh God, Joe, how did this fucking happen?”
“He’s off his tits, and he’s got form for breaking in. Sod it, I should’ve realised he’d do this. Now security’s been relaxed, it was an open goal. He must’ve come through the back door.” Joe reluctantly
began to rise from the sofa. “Which I’ll have to sort out.”
From the kitchen, his phone began to ring. The Flight of the Bumblebee trilled through the house and Alejandro caught Joe’s hand, bringing him back down to the sofa.
“Whoever that is, I’ll tell them to fuck the fuck off,” Alejandro decided, standing. “Then I’m going to look after my Osito.”
“I dropped my phone when Zak hit me with your chair.” The ringtone carried on, needling Joe’s brain. His head was throbbing. Why couldn’t Wendy ring another time? Couldn’t she send a bloody letter instead? Not ringing, not now, not when his head was pounding. “That’s Wendy. What does she want now? But don’t tell her to fuck off, darling.”
This is a bad idea, Joe realised as Alejandro disappeared into the kitchen and he heard him say, “Hello?”
A very bad idea.
He could hear Alejandro tidying as he spoke, the low buzz of their voices suggesting that the conversation was at least cordial. Joe took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face with it. It came away sticky with blood. He should’ve used the PAVA spray, he could’ve neutralised Zak before he got handy with the furniture. But Joe knew he wouldn’t have. That chair had come swinging at him out of the blue and—
What was Alejandro saying to Wendy? Were they chatting about the weather?
Joe heaved himself up from the sofa. As he headed to the kitchen, he registered a draught coming from the direction of the back door. I’ll sort it out in a minute.
“Alejo?”
Alejandro closed the back door and, the phone held in the crook of his shoulder, propped a chair under the door handle next to the splintered wood that Zak had left around the lock. It was an impressive bit of ingenuity, Joe thought. No wonder Alejandro was so good at slipping the leash.
“No, I don’t think you understand,” Alejandro snapped into the phone. “He’s injured, bleeding. He’s not coming to the phone and—” Joe heard his wife’s raised voice in reply, though he couldn’t tell what she was saying. This was the last thing he needed right now, he realised as Alejandro snapped, “I’ll just put the phone down in a minute!”
In case Wendy could hear him over Alejandro, Joe said, “Mr Fuente, would you pass me the phone?”
Alejandro pressed the phone to his shoulder and whispered, “You don’t need this, Osito, don’t worry.”
“Mr Fuente,” Joe said tiredly. He was worn out after that interlude with Zak. Worn out and sore.
“Hello?” Alejandro frowned at the phone, then handed it to Joe. “She hung up. I’m going to phone Mamá, darling, I want that boss of yours to answer for this. Then I’m going to clean you up and cuddle you all night!”
Joe stared at the phone. What the hell had the two of them said to each other? Why was Wendy phoning him? He winced as his head throbbed with renewed enthusiasm. Why couldn’t he get any peace?
“I’m going upstairs.” But Alejandro was already talking to his mamá, fishing cotton wool balls and the first-aid kit from the cupboard as he did so.
Joe went up to the bathroom. As he slowly peeled off his clothes, he realised there was more blood than he’d expected, and his own reflection startled him. He had to get cleaned up. Even if no soap could get rid of the bruise that was beginning to bloom across his stomach from Zak’s punch.
He got under the shower and stood there for what seemed like a long time, his eyes closed and the warm water skidding over him. His mind was in flux, one moment a blank void, the next filled with pain and noise. That chair crashing over him, the firework, the car on the pavement…a cherry blossom tree and Wendy smiling, her arm around another man.
At least she’ll be happy.
But will I?
Because what could a CPO do if he resigned? Joe crossed his arms, hugging himself. But he’d have Alejandro. That was what mattered. His Alejo.
“I’m sorry, Osito.” Alejandro’s voice was a gentle whisper, and he wrapped his arms around Joe’s waist, holding him tight. He pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Joe’s neck and told him, “I love you.”
Joe turned slowly in Alejandro’s embrace and opened his eyes. He stroked Alejandro’s face as if seeing him for the first time, the horrors in his mind drowned out by the wonder of Alejandro’s beauty and the love in his gaze.
“I love you, Alejo.”
“And you need me to look after you, not start raging at people on the phone.” Alejandro kissed him. “You’ve made me grow up, Osito. Being a brat doesn’t suit me anymore.”
“We’re all brats occasionally.” Joe slipped his arms around Alejandro. “But I would very much like to be looked after. If you wouldn’t mind?”
“Your wife called back.” He kissed Joe again, reaching round to pick up one of the bottles from the shower. Joe heard it open and felt the cool bubbles on his skin beneath Alejandro’s massaging hands. “I told her, calmly, what had happened and, you’ll be proud of me, I said sorry. She told me I had good taste in shoes.”
Joe combed his fingers through Alejandro’s hair. “Well done for apologising. And I should also say, well done for getting her to hang up on you. Wendy’s one very persistent lady, but she’s met her match!”
Alejandro smiled and kissed him, massaging the bubbles over his aching body. “I think you should spend the rest of the day in bed, being looked after by your Alejo.”
Joe moaned at Alejandro’s touch. How he loved to feel Alejandro’s hands against him, but his body was so sore. “I think so too.”
“I might not be as muscly as my gorgeous man, but I can still take care of him,” he whispered. “I’ll be your bodyguard this time.”
“Oh, will you? I like the sound of that.”
Joe began to revive as Alejandro’s hands swept over him, the ache ebbing away. He kissed Alejandro, softly exploring his mouth, and as he recovered, his kisses deepened, his desire aroused by Alejandro’s loving attention. Alejandro stroked his skin, warmer even than the water from the shower, and all the time they were kissing, the world outside forgotten.
Joe reached between their bodies, caressing Alejandro’s erection. The warm water made everything more sensual, and Joe was glad he could give such pleasure to Alejandro, the man who had taught him so much about his body. How to love, and how to be loved.
“How do you feel now?” Alejandro asked, garlanding Joe’s chest with the fragrant bubbles that he was massaging over his lover’s body.
“A lot better,” Joe said. “Because you’re looking after me.”
“This is your life now, Sergeant Joe Wenlock.” He laughed. “God help you!”
Joe kissed Alejandro again, still stroking his erection. Then Joe said, a fruity tone in his voice, “Thank you for looking after me. How would you like me to repay you?”
“Are you too bruised for bed?” Alejandro’s hand slipped down to Joe’s erection. “He’s certainly not flagging, is he?”
“Keen as ever, Mr Fuente!” Joe replied. “Bed might be difficult, but I seem to be okay standing.”
“Standing it is!” He stroked Joe’s erection again. “With all these bubbles!”
In the shower?
Joe scraped back his hair, which had fallen into his face under the shower’s force. He felt very naughty. But he’d never done this before.
Alejandro took Joe’s hand and, using him as an anchor, leaned as far out of the shower as he could. Joe heard the pitter patter of water on the tiled floor as Alejandro caught the tips of his fingers against his bright blue makeup bag and teased it closer along the sink until he could open it. Once he had the condom in his palm, he wrapped his arms around Joe again, kissing him as though they’d been parted for days rather than a few seconds.
Joe cupped Alejandro’s bottom with both hands, massaging, capturing Alejandro’s moans of pleasure. Then Joe broke from their kiss and whispered against Alejandro’s neck, “Like this, with your legs around me?”
“If your bruises say sí, then so do I!”
“I don’t care what my b
ruises say, because I say, Alejo, I love you.” Joe kissed him, then asked, “Want to get me ready?”
“I have a special talent,” Alejandro purred, unwrapping the condom. “You’ll love it.” He dropped to his knees and blinked up at Joe, water droplets catching in his long eyelashes. “Ready?”
Joe leaned his head back against the tiles and gripped onto the chrome pipe, jutting his hips towards Alejandro. “Go on, show me your special talent.”
Alejandro rested his hands on Joe’s bottom, softly massaging his buttocks as he closed his lips around the very tip of Joe’s erection. Gently at first, almost a kiss, he slid his mouth lower, rolling the condom onto his lover as he went. All the time his hands were caressing and massaging, his fingertips sliding teasingly between Joe’s buttocks.
Joe gripped the chrome pipe more tightly, sighing with pleasure as a tremble ran through him. “That—that’s a very special talent.”
Eventually Alejandro’s lips reached the base of his erection, drawing the condom down too. Then with exquisite slowness, he began to withdraw, even as his fingers pressed deeper, softly exploring.
“Alejo,” Joe moaned, his eyes half-closed. With his other hand he stroked Alejandro’s hair. Slowly, Alejandro rose to his feet again, kissing his way up Joe’s body, drawing sinuous patterns with his tongue over the planes of Joe’s muscles.
Why did I deny myself for so long?
Joe drew Alejandro to him, kissing him as he put his arms around Alejandro’s waist and lifted him clean off the ground, holding him tight.
“Show me how it’s done, Alejo.”
“I’ll show you anything you like.” Alejandro looped his arms around Joe’s neck and crossed his legs behind his back, holding him tight. “You know you’re gorgeous, don’t you?”
“I’m glad you think so,” Joe replied. “Because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Joe tensed his muscles, posing just for Alejandro, and brought their bodies together. This was love. Love and passion and excitement and all of it stretching before them for years, every adventure one they would discover together. Every road he would take had changed, and it was right. Every bit of it was finally right.
The Reluctant Royal Page 28