Walking Wounded

by Lee Rowan

  “No worry about ripping this plumbing out of the wall!” John said happily. He took a firm grip on one of the bars and shot Kevin a look of invitation. “Do you suppose she’d let us test it?”

  “Probably not both together,” Kevin said with such regret that John laughed again.

  “But….” He had been living frugally for so long he had to ask. “Can we really afford this?”

  “I have a lot of vacation pay saved up, Johnny.” Kevin ruffled his lover’s hair. “Yes, we can afford it. I can’t think of a better use for the money. In fact, I’ve been saving for a down payment on a place—renting is just pouring money down a hole.” Then, demonstrating that the shower design provided considerable privacy even if Mrs. Bell should come upstairs, he pulled John’s face down for a kiss.

  The idea of what this would be like with both of them naked and wet sent John’s imagination racing to a place he couldn’t let it linger. He pulled back, shaking his head and grinning. “You ought to ask this agency for a job. You’ve got a quite a sales pitch.”

  Kevin let go reluctantly. “I’m sorry if I seem bloody-minded about this, Johnny. I may be rushing things a bit. But this is a real opportunity, and the one-year lease would give us plenty of time to decide whether it’s the right place to settle down. If we find we hate it for some reason, or one of us finds a better job elsewhere, it shouldn’t be difficult to sublet.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” John looked around the sparkling room, with its space-age comforts. “I don’t know why it seems to loom so large—I know the commitment is really just a year, the same as we’d be considering anywhere else. It’s just so much change so fast—I’m still half expecting to wake up and find none of this is real.”

  Kevin shook his head, one side of his mouth quirking upward. “I feel as though I’ve been having a long, rotten dream and I just woke up. But if you’re not ready—”

  “I seem to remember being the one who said you should move in. Maybe I’m just surprised at it all coming together so quickly.” John touched the beautiful tile, wondering why he was unable to share in Kevin’s enthusiasm. Was it some sort of guilt on his part? It was hardly as though their having a comfortable home would take anything away from people elsewhere in the world, whose homes had been bombed out. There were other things he could do if he wanted to help with war relief.

  And Kev had been through the grinder himself, battered by war even if he didn’t see it that way. If Kevin needed a place to come home to, a place where he’d feel secure, what right did John have to deny him that? “All right,” he said. “As you say, it’s only a year’s commitment, and it sounds as though you know more about this sort of thing than I do.”

  “Mainly by osmosis,” Kevin said. “My father didn’t make his fortune in the Army, you know. He dabbled in real estate all along, and went into it full-time when he retired. I don’t know half what he does—but I do know Portsmouth property isn’t cheap, and this place is a plum. There are bound to be problems—there always are—but we’ll have time to find them before we commit ourselves.”

  “Mr. Kendrick?” Mrs. Bell’s voice floated up the stair. “I have another client who’d like to come by and view this home. Would you like to see the cellar now?”

  Kevin stepped out of the shower. “Yes, we’ll be right down,” he called, and turned back to John, the question clear as day in his blue eyes.

  Some risks were worth taking. John gave his lover a quick pat on the bum. “All right. It’s only a year. Let’s see if she’s brought the forms with her. We don’t want someone else pinching our house.”

  “BACK UP!”

  Kevin stopped immediately, balancing the corner of the box spring on his knee. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just back up!” Johnny sounded almost angry, so Kevin did as he demanded. “Sorry,” he said in a calmer tone. “My hand was caught between the box and the door frame. Tilt it a little to the left—no, sorry, my left, your right.”

  Kevin did as instructed, and their cumbersome burden cleared the front door on the second attempt.

  “Let’s just take it on up,” John called.

  “Okay.” He had to guess at where Johnny was—there was no seeing around the bulky object—and simply kept his end up as it angled through the door, which swung shut, locking behind him. The mattress had been even clumsier to handle, but for sheer aggravation, he gave the futon frame top marks. The damned thing had kept trying to unfold itself all the way up the stairs. It would be useful, though, in what they were calling the library—comfortable enough for lounging and a private guest room if they should have overnight visitors.

  This house had room enough for all the furniture they intended to keep, and Kevin was quietly pleased at how easily their belongings had combined. His own bed had not been a keeper; he’d had that mattress since university. John’s mattress set had turned out to be much newer and a lot more comfortable. Kevin’s living room furniture suited the size of the new place, and they had distributed their existing bookshelves throughout the house and had bought three full-size ones, now in their cartons up in the library, waiting for assembly. Kevin’s mother was delighted to know she’d be able to clear out the books they’d been storing for him, as well as the four-poster bed inherited from his grandparents that she had insisted he would want someday.

  And despite Johnny’s dislike of what he called the fungal wallpaper in the kitchen, they hadn’t needed to do anything major to the new place. Their landlords had left basic blinds and curtains, nothing special but enough for now, for privacy. Eventually they would have to find a proper dining table and a few decent chairs, but for the moment, the card table and folding chairs would do well enough.

  It was a good thing they had sit-down room in the kitchen. In their excitement over the gorgeous spa bathroom, they’d overlooked the fact that there was no ceiling fixture at all in the dining area. They’d have to find a couple of lamps or see if the parents had any old ones knocking around the attic, and eventually they’d want a ceiling light. But the house was all coming together. Another week and they’d be settled in as comfortably as if those years apart had never happened.

  “Stop,” Johnny said. “Just set it down on the top step.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  His head appeared around the other side of the box. “Nothing, just had to change my grip. Shall we take it right on in to the bedroom and put it on the frame?”

  “Why not?”

  Johnny nodded, then gave Kevin an affectionate smile. “I can’t get over how much easier this all is with someone to carry the other end of the furniture.”

  The unconcealed joy in his voice touched Kevin to the heart, but he knew if he responded in kind, they’d never get the job done. He’d never tried shagging on a stair with a mattress between, and this was no time to make the experiment. “Yes it is,” he said, “but this is the heavy end, so if you could move it, please?”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Two minutes later the bed was assembled—blankets, pillows, duvet and all.

  “That looks awfully inviting,” Kevin said.

  John threw an arm around him, making the invitation stronger with the scent rising from his body. “But it’s not on the Master Plan. Don’t tempt me.”

  “I know. Work first, sweets later.” He was naughty enough to pull John into a thorough kiss, savoring the salty tang of honest sweat.

  “It’s a good thing we took the edge off this morning,” John gasped.

  “Let’s get moving, then. We have to return the van by four.”

  They had spent the previous night here with nothing but a six-pack of beer and the mattress on the floor, and started the day with a shower and good clean fun in what Johnny was calling Neptune’s Grotto. They’d promised themselves a decadent evening in the tub if they were able to finish the move in good time.

  They really did make an effective team, and the two weeks between applying for the lease and the final approval had given Kevin’s arm
time to finish healing. John had insisted on wrapping it, just as a precaution, but it had given Kevin no trouble. One final load of small things from the old flat—television and stereo, food from the fridge—and they were ready to go fetch the kittens from the vet’s office and call it a night.

  “Do you want to make it all one trip?” John asked as they locked the door behind them for the last time and got into the car.

  “I don’t see what good that would do,” Kevin said. “Where were you planning to put them? There’s no room in the backseat or on your lap, and if you put that carrier between us, I can’t shift gears.”

  John peered into the overloaded backseat. “I see your point.”

  “Besides, the vet’s in the opposite direction. They’ll yowl if we leave them in the cage while we unload, and if we don’t, they’ll be underfoot or out in the street.”

  John laughed. “I hear you, Kev. Note to self: Kevin does not enjoy driving with cats.”

  “Sorry,” Kevin said. “But I never expected that god-awful racket.”

  “They did put up a screech, didn’t they? I didn’t expect that—they were so quiet when we first picked them up.”

  “They were probably just weak from hunger,” Kevin said, trying to sound grumpy but not doing too good a job. He’d expected to grit his teeth and put up with cramming the carrier into the overcrowded vehicle. He was getting spoiled, no doubt about it—Johnny really seemed to enjoy caring for him, adjusting to make Kevin’s life easier.

  And John’s next words proved it once again. “Tell you what, love, if you fix dinner, I’ll go get the monsters.”

  “Will you settle for spaghetti?”

  “I’ll settle for frozen pizza, so long as you bake it first. In fact, I’ll settle for anything you want to feed me.” Johnny’s hand crept suggestively across the space between the seats.

  “Not while I’m driving, you randy devil,” Kevin warned. “There’s no room for that either. I vote for pizza, then. No washing-up afterward.”

  “Not dishes, anyway.”

  “Well, no. But after all this manual labor, I’m sure we’ll need a bath.”

  “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

  With that prospect ahead of them, it took only a few minutes to get the last bits out of the car and settled in around the house. The television went on its stand, and John’s portable stereo just fit on a low shelf between the living and dining rooms. When that was done, John closed the curtains and turned on a lamp before coming back for a kiss.

  “I’ll go get the animals, then. Is there anything you want me to pick up while I’m—”

  The shrill ring of the phone in the kitchen echoed loudly in the hall; they both jumped.

  “That’s not supposed to be hooked up,” Kevin said, heading for the kitchen more or less by reflex.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a shut-off order got ignored,” John said after another couple of rings. “Probably a wrong number, anyway.”

  “I suppose.” Kevin shrugged. Whoever was calling was certainly persistent. “You’re probably right. Let’s set them straight and send them on their way.” He reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Kendrick. Glad I caught you.”

  The shock left him momentarily speechless. He shot John a startled look and covered the receiver. “Hang on a minute, Johnny.”

  “What is it?”

  “Trouble.”

  Chapter 11

  KEVIN FORCED his voice to neutrality. “Hello, Colonel. I’ve moved, as you’re clearly aware. What’s going on? Some forms I forgot to sign?”

  “There’s no problem with your paperwork, Kendrick. Never has been. I’m calling to tell you to be careful.”

  For a moment Kevin found himself speechless. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” he finally managed.

  His commanding officer—no, make that former CO—sounded testy. “Kendrick, this is serious. You may be in danger.”

  “What, my resignation wasn’t enough? Is someone in some ministry or other out for my blood?”

  “Goddamn it, Kendrick, I’m in no mood for jokes!”

  Kevin wasn’t either, but he did have a degree of respect for the Colonel. Not as much as he’d once had, but…. “Can you be a little more specific, sir?”

  “Not very. Do you remember Major Shaney?”

  “Of course.” Major Shaney. Who had given the all clear to hand over the prisoners—after the debacle—and then denied having done so after the shit hit the fan. Major Don’t-Turn-Your-Back-On-Him Shaney.

  “He’s dead. Hit-and-run, yesterday evening. A stolen car, found abandoned a few miles from the scene. No fingerprints or other evidence.”

  No loss. Kevin didn’t say it. He didn’t want to be considered a suspect, though he had at least three witnesses who could place him in Portsmouth the previous evening. No, five—three humans and two cats. “I hope you’re not taking up a collection?”

  “We think it may be related to the incident.”

  The incident. Christ, couldn’t he just say it? Kevin closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Sir, I’m out of the game. What exactly is it you expect of me?”

  “Officially, nothing. Are you armed?”

  What? “No, of course not. I’m a civilian now, remember?” That wasn’t the whole truth; “armed” was a broad term, and there were half a dozen items with lethal potential within easy reach, thanks to his thorough training. But the Colonel knew that.

  “You’re on a consultant contract as of now. Expect a delivery sometime between eight p.m. and midnight. You’ll receive weapons and a special carry permit, plus security hardware for your residence.”

  “I haven’t signed any contract yet,” Kevin said. “And I don’t intend to until you at least tell me who or what I’m supposed to be watching for.”

  He waited while the Colonel digested his new attitude. “We have intelligence that the mercenaries involved in the incident were dismissed but not charged. We think one or more may be involved with Shaney’s death. We know some of them are in the States, but there are several we haven’t tracked yet. We have reason to believe at least one of them may be here in the UK.”

  “I see.”

  “Good. I’ve had an emergency number downloaded to your mobile phone. You can reach it on speed dial number five.”

  Son of a bitch. “Yeah, all right,” Kevin said. He glanced up at Johnny, who had moved a little closer and stood watching him with a worried expression. “Colonel, would it be better for me to get out of the country for a while?”

  John shook his head, mouthing “No,” and it seemed his former CO agreed with him.

  “Absolutely not. We can cover you more effectively if you remain in England. Are you planning to stay where you are for now?”

  What, you haven’t read my mind? “I was. As I’m sure you know, I just signed a lease. But I’ll clear out if necessary. I’m not going to bring this kind of trouble on my friends.” He held up a hand, willing Johnny to keep quiet for just a minute longer.

  “We don’t know for certain this has anything to do with you,” the Colonel said. “No need to panic.”

  Kevin didn’t dignify that with an answer.

  After a moment of silence, the Colonel said, “You probably won’t believe me, Captain, but I am sorry this has come up. We all appreciate what you did, and this has caught us all by surprise. I’ll keep you informed as the situation develops. Call if you have any questions or if you notice anything suspicious.”

  “I will.” He was about to end the call when a thought struck him. “Colonel, am I under surveillance?”

  “Six men, eight-hour rotations. They’ll be moving into position across the street this evening.”

  The thought grew to a suspicion. “No electronics in this flat,” Kevin said.

  “Are you giving me an order?”

  “I’m telling you there is no need to know the details of my personal life, Colonel.” He met Johnny’s eyes and held the look as he la
id down the law in a way he’d never have dared when he was in the service. “As you’ve no doubt concluded, I have a lover. My lover is a man. Our private lives are just that. If we decide to have sex in the bedroom or on the sofa or hanging from the chandelier or anywhere else in our home, nobody needs to listen in. Nobody needs to know if one of us snores.”

  The Colonel practically sputtered. “That’s not—”

  Kevin grinned humorlessly. “We both know how boring surveillance can get, don’t we, Colonel? How often the boys just get curious and turn up the gain a little bit to find out what folks are up to in bed? I’d sooner be shot dead than turn up in an MP3 in Peabody’s gag file. I had my fifteen minutes of fame at the hearing, and I don’t want any more.”

  A moment of silence, then, “Understood.”

  “Thank you.” Could he trust the man’s word? Not likely. “Colonel? I’m going to do a fine-tooth comb of this flat. If I find any surveillance equipment—and you know I will, if there’s anything to find—I’m going to put the thing in the oven and set it to broil. Is that clear?”

  “That’s unreasonable, Kendrick.”

  “But it wouldn’t be your equipment, would it, sir? Tell you what. I’ll let you bug my bedroom if you let me bug yours.” That was a low blow; rumor had it that the Colonel and his wife slept in separate rooms.

  “Damn it—”

  “This is not a standard operation,” Kevin said, fed up with the deception. “You can’t feed me the bullshit you give the civilians. Do you want to catch the killer?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want any more casualties.”

  “Neither do I. And I know enough about the risks to make my own informed decisions. How will the shipment arrive?”

  “In a furniture truck. It’s packaged as exercise equipment. Are we in agreement, then?”

  “I suppose so. One other thing—body armor, two sets. I’m sure you know the sizes.”

  “That’s already included. Thanks for your cooperation, Kendrick. With any luck, I’ll be calling you soon to let you know to stand down.”