Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “I prefer eating in a clean kitchen.”

  “That’s an easy fix,” Bryce said with a faint chuckle.

  Chapter 18

  SETH WAS diligently working on a chapter when his phone buzzed. He rarely answered calls while he was creating, but it was Laurie. They were meeting for lunch, so he broke one of his cardinal rules and picked up to confirm time and place.

  “Heya,” he greeted cheerily. “Are we on for tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely,” she gushed. “Want to meet at the Water Tower? Foodease Market on the mezzanine floor has tons of choices, and you can always grab a table.”

  “Sounds good. Noonish?”

  “Let’s set a fixed time so I’m not wandering around the upper floors and spending money I don’t have.”

  “Twelve thirty?” Seth suggested.

  “That’s good for me. By the way, did you ask Bryce about the conferences?”

  “Yes,” Seth confirmed. “Give me the details tomorrow, and we’ll make sure to block out those dates on his work calendar.”

  “I’m impressed,” Laurie said. “He’s willing to tag along?”

  “He’s a nice guy,” Seth said.

  “Can’t wait to meet him.”

  “It’ll happen soon enough,” Seth said vaguely. “Listen, I’m writing and you’re ruining my concentration.”

  “Sorry, hon. See you tomorrow.”

  After they disconnected, Seth went to the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. He’d already had two eight-ounce cups and knew he shouldn’t have any more or he’d get shaky, but he needed the extra boost to restart his creative juices, which were on pause thanks to his agent. There was just enough left to serve his needs, and he drained the carafe, then filled it with warm soapy water and left it to soak.

  Back at his desk, he woke up his laptop and reviewed what he’d written so far. He wondered if anyone would notice the difference in his writing. The man who was working on this contemporary novel was nowhere close to the guy who’d been churning out romantic, albeit old-fashioned, drivel for the longest time. Were happiness, optimism, and newly discovered sexuality reflected in this manuscript?

  Seth was aware that he and Bryce were in the early stages of their relationship, and emotions—good and bad—amped up to the umpteenth degree. Owen’s unexpected appearance and subsequent threats had been the catalyst they needed to take their union to the next level. Mutual respect was flowing between them like an invisible power source, and it was giving them the courage they needed to get through this unpleasant detour. What Seth found most surprising of all was his ability to soothe Bryce when he needed it, make him laugh when comic relief was the only way to lighten a crappy day, and most importantly, contribute the strength and wisdom he didn’t even know he possessed when old demons surfaced to rattle the foundation of Bryce’s existence.

  After coming face-to-face with Bryce’s former love, it was difficult to understand what had attracted Bryce to Owen in the first place. In his opinion, the man was nothing more than a thug, and a stupid one at that, but he supposed things had been different back in college. In those days, Bryce would have been like any other gay man trying to find his way, and lusting after a football player wasn’t unheard of. They were the acknowledged kings of the campus, and the confident swagger and air of entitlement radiating off their massive shoulders were part of their allure. Bryce must have been thrilled when he caught Owen’s eye, and more than willing to put up with his conditions, knowing he was the one who’d flipped the supposedly straight hunk. Unfortunately, he’d been deeply hurt during the process. The vulnerability Bryce had displayed last night had sprung forth from a different place in time—when he was a younger, more impressionable man. His sensitive alter ego overshadowed the self-assured entrepreneur Seth had come to know intimately over the last two months, and it only made Seth love him that much more.

  He supposed foolishness came hand in hand with being young. Seth had fallen for Mark in his twenties, because, unlike most of their peers, Mark had his shit together during a time when an invisible killer was mowing down the gay population. Seth had chosen safety and stability over random hookups at bathhouses and glory holes. What he hadn’t realized at the time was that he was being carried along in the wake of a new moral code rising from fear, and Mark was his willing pied piper.

  When he looked at their current situation from the perspective of someone betrayed by the man he loved, it was easy to empathize with Bryce’s feelings. In that, they were no different. Mark might not have been a cheating asshole, but he was a control freak who’d decided long ago that Seth wasn’t capable of dealing with everyday life, and his opinions were always filtered through Mark’s all-knowing eyes.

  The doorbell rang, jerking Seth back to the present. Shutting his laptop, he made his way to the front door, grumbling about another interruption. As he turned the deadbolt, he wondered why no one had buzzed him from the security desk downstairs, but that didn’t pop into his head until he opened the door and stared into the now familiar face of Owen Lightfoot.

  He was wearing a Jimmy John’s hat and vest and holding up one of their bags. “Lunch?” he offered cheerily.

  Reflexively, Seth said, “Wrong apartment.”

  “Is that the way to greet an old friend?”

  “You’re no friend of mine.”

  “Well, at least we agree on something.”

  “You need to go.” Seth attempted to close the door, but Owen was quicker than a weasel and just as intent on his target. Blocking the door with what looked like a size-sixteen boot, he shoved his way past Seth, muttering, “Out of my way, blondie.”

  “What do you want?” Seth asked. To his own ears, he sounded fearless, but his heart was banging against his chest and a part of him wanted to shout for help. But he knew that terror was an accelerant for bullies, and Owen was a prime example of that vile breed. Furthermore, he had no idea if the surveillance team was even in place. Perhaps he had to rethink his opinion of Owen’s IQ. This was the second time he’d managed to squeak through a purportedly secure building. Bryce would be livid!

  “Money,” Owen spat out, snapping Seth’s attention back to the immediate problem. “I need cash, pretty boy. Hand over whatever skrill you’ve got tucked away under the mattress.”

  “There’s no money in this apartment,” Seth said quietly, trying to remain calm and defuse the situation. “I thought you and Bryce worked out a deal.”

  Owen snorted. “He reneged on the loan, and waiting around for my share of your payout isn’t an option anymore. I’ve got bill collectors snapping at my heels.”

  “What would you have done if Bryce hadn’t been my partner?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care. The good thing is he happened along at the right time. I need something to tide me over until we hit pay dirt.”

  “As I said, there’s nothing for you here.”

  “Grab your jacket and ATM card.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’ll hit up the first cash machine and withdraw your limit for the day.”

  “I’m broke, and Bryce has his wallet.”

  “How can a famous writer like you be broke?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve just been on a long trip and spent most of my money. The rest is tied up in legal mumbo jumbo.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Owen said, grabbing Seth by the arm and hauling him to the master bedroom. He stopped dead in the middle of the room and his eyes boggled, soaking up the luxurious appointments. He couldn’t seem to resist smoothing down the furry bed covering, whistling in approval. “My man sure has made a good life. Too bad it’s wasted on you.”

  Seth exploded in an unfiltered torrent of hateful words when he heard Owen’s possessive tone.

  “He hasn’t been your man in twenty-five years, and I’ll thank you to get your greedy paws off our bed. You’re not good enough to touch anything in this room.”

  Owen turned toward Seth’s voice an
d squinted in anger. Seth had underestimated the man’s speed and strength and couldn’t get away in time to avoid being struck with such force he was lifted off the floor. He crash-landed on the tiles in front of the fireplace, and his head struck the glass enclosure. Blood began seeping out of a gash on his forehead, but he was too dazed to even notice.

  “Fuck you!” Owen shouted. “Look what you made me do! Now we’ve got to cover up that cut, or people will think I’m running around with a hostage or something.”

  “They wouldn’t be wrong,” Seth mumbled. He was dazed but he was no longer scared. Owen was obviously regretting his knee-jerk reaction. He wasn’t in a position to allow his temper to get the better of him or they wouldn’t be able to go digging for dollars. For the foreseeable future—depending on the ATM machine—Seth was safe. After that, there was no telling what would happen.

  “Do you have any bandages in that fancy bathroom?” Owen asked.

  “Medicine cabinet,” Seth said. “Top shelf.”

  While Owen was in the bathroom getting supplies, Seth sat up and wiped the blood that was dripping down his face with his sleeve.

  “Don’t do that, you stupid piece of shit,” Owen barked. “Now you’ve got to change your shirt.”

  Seth sighed. “Why don’t you go, Owen? It’s an exercise in stupidity to try and get money out of a machine when I know for a fact there’s hardly anything in my account.”

  “You got overdraft, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Seth said warily. “But I never use it.”

  “Guess again,” Owen said.

  He handed Seth the bandage and watched him make a clumsy attempt to cover up the cut. Without a mirror, Seth missed the mark, and Owen yanked the tape out of his hand and did it himself.

  “Get up,” he said, pulling Seth to his feet. “Change your shirt and put on some shoes.”

  “I need to pee,” Seth said succinctly.

  Owen sneered. “Sure you do, you sissy. Hurry the fuck up, will you? I’ll wait for you at the front door.”

  Seth moved slowly toward the bathroom and was shocked by the image staring back at him from multiple angles. There were mirrors everywhere, courtesy of kinky Grier Dilorio. “The better to see you with, my dear,” Bryce had crooned playfully when Seth had first toured the apartment. They’d definitely added another interesting element to morning blowjobs in the glass-enclosed shower. He peered a little closer and didn’t see any signs of fresh seepage coming from under the bandage.

  Turning, he moved over to the toilet, did his thing, flushed, and went back to the sink to wash his hands. He took a white washcloth from the rack close by and ran it under the warm water. Squeezing it dry, he gently dabbed his face to remove all traces of blood. He wondered how deep the cut was, but he decided to find out later instead of disturbing the wound and starting another round of bleeding. When he was satisfied, he pulled off his T-shirt, which was dotted with blood stains, and threw it in the hamper.

  In the now-empty bedroom, he looked around for something to grab in case Owen lost it again, and his eyes settled on the antique clock Bryce had bought in Edinburgh. It was prominently displayed on the mantelpiece, along with a framed photo of last year’s Stanley Cup–winning team with player signatures scribbled on the white border. He hefted the Victorian timepiece and nodded approvingly, convinced it would hold up if he needed to use it on Owen.

  Clutching the clock, he turned toward the walk-in closet to find another shirt. He wanted to call Bryce or 911 to let them know what was going on, but he’d left his phone in the office beside his laptop.

  “Hurry up,” Owen called out in a voice that could break sound barriers. “I don’t have all day.”

  Angry and frustrated, Seth yanked a long-sleeved T-shirt off a hanger, dislodging several close by. They fell to the floor, and he stared at the exposed cutout in the wall, another one of Grier’s sensible ideas. When Bryce had first pointed out the safe room and walked him into the tiny space no bigger than a broom closet, Seth was convinced he and Grier had been reading too many murder mysteries. It was such an extravagant, over-the-top feature they’d never use, and yet, his current situation was the perfect occasion to test out the amenities, namely the phone. He remembered seeing a landline along with a few staples like bottled water, blankets, and desiccated beef and fruit in sterile plastic wrappers. There was even a pee bottle in case the lockup lasted longer than one’s bladder.

  Placing the clock on the floor, but retaining the shirt, Seth gingerly pushed the door, and when it gave, he stepped into the tiny space and flipped the light switch. He zeroed in on the phone and picked it up just as Owen barged into the walk-in closet to see why he was delayed. It took a few seconds for him to figure out what he was seeing, and when it clicked, Owen bellowed in anger and charged toward the door. Seth kicked it shut just in time and drew the dead bolt. He was shaking, and the idea of Owen’s gigantic fist smashing into his face again made him whimper out loud, but what happened next convinced Seth that Grier Dilorio was a genius and deserved whatever he charged, along with the keys to the city of Chicago and a crown to boot.

  Owen was going crazy trying to break down the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Howling in frustration, he pummeled the wood with his hands and kicked it with his feet, but all it did was make him angrier. Nothing happened. The wood didn’t splinter nor did the hinges give way. Seth had no idea how safe rooms were constructed, but he was sure they were built to withstand outside forces Owen couldn’t begin to match. Seth picked up the landline and called Bryce.

  “Who is this?” Bryce asked, instead of his usual hello.

  “Help me,” Seth whispered.

  “Babe?”

  “He’s in the apartment.”

  “Owen?” Bryce said, voice rising in panic.

  “Yes,” Seth said. He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t sound like he’d inhaled helium. “I’m in the safe room.”

  “What in the hell—?”

  “Calm down, sweetheart,” Seth said, hearing the hysteria mounting on the other end. “I’m not in any danger at the moment. Call the police, then come and get me.”

  “The goddamn cops should be all over the apartment,” Bryce yelled.

  “Right. You can tell Adam and Jack they’re fired, and on the off chance they decide to redeem themselves, have them bring some heavy artillery. Owen seems to have lost his mind.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Bryce asked.

  “Nothing a few kisses can’t fix,” Seth said, letting go of the phone for a moment to put on the T-shirt hanging from his left hand. He was starting to shake and didn’t want to freeze before he was rescued.

  “I can’t believe you’re joking,” Bryce said.

  Seth squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing. Fortunately, the landline didn’t have a FaceTime feature, or Bryce would see for himself that Seth was also losing it. Each thud on the door reminded him there was a lunatic on the other side. There was no telling what Owen would try next, and since Seth seemed to be the only voice of reason, he had to keep his nerves in check if he wanted to be rescued in one piece.

  “Please come and get me,” Seth repeated, his voice hitching at the end.

  “I’m in the car, babe. Hang tight. We’ll need to disconnect for a sec so I can call Chicago PD, but I’ll call you right back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Seth said, before putting the phone down.

  Chapter 19

  BRYCE KNEW he was speeding but didn’t slow down as his truck careened around another curve before flying down North Wacker toward home. Seth’s composure had slipped at the end of his plea, revealing the terror he was trying to hide for Bryce’s sake, and it hit him like a one-two punch in the gut. Instead of putting Seth on hold—like any sensible man—he’d hung up on him. He’d tried calling Adam and Jack on their mobiles first, but they went straight to voice mail. Concluding they were on the job and unable to take personal calls, he called the station next, only to be placed on hold by the
goddamn operator who informed him she’d page the officers in question. By the time Adam finally got on the phone, Bryce was beating the steering wheel in frustration.

  “What’s going on?” Adam said immediately.

  “Owen managed to get into my apartment,” Bryce hollered. “How in fuck did he get past your people?”

  “Calm down,” Adam said, echoing Seth. “You were supposed to call us after you informed Owen the loan was off the table. We had everything in place so surveillance could begin immediately. Did you talk to Owen and forget to call me?”

  “Shit!” Bryce exclaimed, narrowly avoiding a pedestrian. “Sorry, I almost ran over someone. I’m a fucking mess.”

  “You’re freaking out, bro, and I need you to chill,” Adam said, gentling. “Let’s put our heads together and see what we can do to help Seth.”

  With that in mind, Bryce took several deep breaths, hoping to regain some control. He was usually cool under fire, but being in love, and more importantly, having someone precious to lose, was turning him into an idiot.

  Gathering up the last of his reserves, he recounted this morning’s events in a steadier voice. “Owen showed up at my office uninvited around nine thirty, demanding I speed up the loan process. He must have received a threat from the loan sharks he’s been dealing with and now he’s running scared. How was I supposed to know the asshole would hit up Seth? It’s been barely two hours since he walked out.”

  “You should have called us immediately.”

  Bryce bit his lip. He hadn’t been reprimanded by anyone in years, and even though Adam meant well, the accusatory tone did nothing for his confidence. He’d been beating himself up from the moment he got Seth’s call, and he didn’t need Adam to remind him that Owen’s shakedown could have been handled with a lot more finesse.