SAFE (Men of the ESRB Book 1)

by Shiloh, Hollis

  Yeah, he had some kind of inside information. Or else the sheer bleakness of my expression was enough. He grunted softly, knowing he'd hit the mark, and walked away, whistling under his breath.

  When I turned back to the blanket and Sky, my shoulders were slumped with defeat. There was no way out: they'd gotten my cell phone, the captain clearly hadn't had us trailed properly, and there was nothing I could do to get out … unless I left Sky behind.

  And then I stopped. Sky was looking up at me. He didn't say a word, but I saw in the shy awareness in his eyes that he was actually seeing me now for the first time. He'd calmed a little at my touch and my care, but now he seemed more like he was himself again, instead of far away hiding somewhere.

  "Sky?" I asked calmly, my voice hushed. I moved back to his side and took his hands, crouching down beside him. "Honey, can you hear me? Nod for me if you can?"

  "Yes?" he said softly, sounding shy, unnerved by my tone. "Wh-what's going on?" He looked around the basement with new eyes, getting scared all over again.

  "Sky, stay in my arms, okay? Just let me hold you while I tell you what's going on. How much do you remember?"

  "I don't — I don't want to," he said breathlessly, as I hugged him so tight he huffed a little, as if it was getting hard to breathe.

  I released him quickly but continue to rub his back calmingly.

  He pushed away from me awkwardly and looked down at his arms, staring. "My — my wrists." He looked up at me with horror in his eyes. "Where am I? Why did I…"

  He shuddered, visibly making an effort to control himself. "You're scared, Hunt. You're never scared." He was shivering hard now, and tried to wrap his arms around his knees. "Wh-what's going on?" His voice was getting high and desperate, really freaked out. "I'm — I'm not okay, am I? Are — are they taking me away? I d-don't want to go away again."

  He made an awful, hurting sound that was going to haunt me. My heart was breaking. I wrapped my arms around him. "Breathe, Sky. One breath at a time. Concentrate on that. I'm going to fix this, and you'll help me. Breathe. Come on. Breathe with me."

  We focused on breathing for a while, and he got less frantic and panic-stricken. He didn't stop trembling, but instead of rocking, he curled towards me, letting me take his weight, letting me comfort him.

  I did my best.

  Then, when I could stand to speak without my voice breaking, I tried to explain. "You got snatched, Sky. It wasn't Gruver this time. It's somebody who wants you to be his living lie detector. I think gangsters, or something. Whatever. It's been awhile now. They tried to scare you into helping them. You … uh…"

  "I know," said Sky in a soft voice. "I get it. I snapped or something. So they snatched you, too."

  The guilt in his voice was unbearable. He clearly blamed himself for me being here. As if I'd want to be anywhere else, while he was captive.

  I kissed his temple. "Shh. Let's think happy thoughts now, honey."

  He nodded against me, but his breath hitched, one hand curled against my chest, holding onto my shirt, squeezing. "How … do we get out?" he asked, his breath soft and warm against me as he tried not to hyperventilate.

  I patted and rubbed his side, as much to comfort myself as him. "We don't. We go along. They were scared enough about you to bring me here. It's been hours and they haven't harassed you again. They've given me time with you. That means you're valuable alive and well. You're most valuable if you can give them what they want. They won't kill us if we try to cooperate, and the more valuable we can be to them, the more likely we are to get out of this alive."

  "So we … we help them? We do what they want?" He sounded repulsed, incensed by the thought.

  I kissed his forehead. "We try."

  He stilled.

  I thought, very clearly, Someone will come. The ESRB is working to help us.

  I wished I could be sure that Quill and the precinct were looking just as hard, but I couldn't be sure of anything except the Bureau right now. They wanted Sky safe, even if nobody else did. And that meant me too. They would do something; I knew that. Someone had been on their way last time I'd heard.

  I couldn't tell if Sky heard my thoughts, but he seemed to be thinking hard. I gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  "I … I guess," he said softly. There was a small hint of a lisp in his voice, and I could hear something of the shy, insecure child he'd been once. He must've been scared to open his mouth — frightened he'd be mocked for his tentative, quiet voice and his lisp, frightened he'd say the wrong thing, revealing something people would think he was crazy for knowing.

  "We're in this together," I promised him. I caught his face and moved him gently to look at me. I saw the fear in his bloodshot eyes as he searched my gaze anxiously. "It's how I want it, how we can handle this. Together."

  There was so much anxiety in him. But he was holding on to me now. He was here now again, here with me.

  I hoped I was telling the truth, that playing along was the way to handle it. That I could get him through this.

  I pulled him closer and kissed him with all the tenderness and certainty I possessed. I might not be in the closet anymore. My life might be shot to hell. But I sure as hell could kiss my boyfriend and comfort him.

  He kissed me back and then huffed and put his arms around me, hugging me tightly. "Boyfriend," he said under his breath, soft and pleased. "Really?"

  "Boyfriend, partner — all that. Honey, I would fucking marry you if I you'd let me. I'm out now anyway, so why try to hide how I feel about you?"

  "You … you came out?"

  He was so startled by that that I had to whisper a short version of the story to him, just to satisfy his very confused curiosity. I saw no judgment in his gaze about how scared I'd been on the whole topic. He winced and squeezed my hand sympathetically when I told him about the captain's reaction. He also stroked my wrist with his gentle fingers, sympathy and comfort in that tender touch.

  "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for telling him, even though it was hard."

  I didn't see what choice I'd had at that point.

  We kissed a little more, then I reminded him we should take the opportunity to eat, hydrate, and get a little sleep. I had no idea if he'd gotten any rest since his capture. I'd certainly gotten very little.

  We ate some more of the energy bars, drank water from the little sink in a paper cup, and then curled up on the small, creaky cot, spooning. Fuck them if they didn't like it. He needed to feel safe. And frankly, I didn't think either of us would rest if I wasn't holding on to him.

  "I love you," said Sky softly, pressing a kiss against my arm, a light butterfly touch that sent a warm feeling all through my body. "It means a lot, this. All of it. Thank you." And he cuddled back, resting his head against me trustingly. He closed his eyes and stilled.

  I blinked, trying not to let the moisture in my eyes get the better of me. Was this what I'd been missing? How could I feel more free in this one moment than I had in years?

  Boyfriend? Husband? Yeah, I wanted it all. All with Sky.

  #

  We got to talk for a few minutes softly in bed when we woke up, and we planned our course for the day. Sky didn't like it, but he agreed to cooperate the best he was able. We determined we wouldn't have to underestimate his abilities or fake anything; he was so stressed out that it would likely be a struggle just to use his skills at all.

  I had to protect him, just like at the precinct — even more. He needed to be guarded emotionally, protected from raw anger and worse. I couldn't imagine the gangster wanted to know the truth from nice, friendly people, so we were going to have a discussion about how hard it was for Sky being around angry people. If he didn't want Sky to crap out on him again, he needed to keep him away from too much hostility and let me do my job by protecting him.

  When our captor visited that morning, the steps creaking under each step, he listened to what I said, nodding along, looking at Sky once or twice with open curiosity, clearly surprised an
d pleased to see him acting so sane. Each time he looked in Sky's direction, Sky shrank behind me, holding on to my arm.

  I glared at the guy and got protective, but he just laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not stealing your boyfriend."

  I wasn't worried about that. "Just stop scaring him. You want this to work, right? So stop with the bullshit. He's stressed up to his eyeballs, and everybody else's feelings are like a big broadcast to him. So if you bring some angry, homicidal maniac around him, he's going to have a lot of trouble dealing with that right now."

  I didn't want to say he'd go back to being catatonic, but I suspect we were all thinking it.

  "You feisty gays," said the boss with a wink, enjoying getting a rise out of me. "Don't worry. I'll keep things simple. I'll fetch you when I'm ready. Just don't re-decorate the basement while you're waiting."

  Sky and I looked at each other as the guy stumped back upstairs. Sky bit his lip and leaned his head against me. "I shouldn't find that funny, should I?" he whispered, rubbing my arm lightly.

  "Anything that helps would be good," I said, but I still felt annoyed with the guy for not really taking us seriously.

  "Like you said, I'm just a tool. If I'm valuable enough, he'll invest in taking care of me. Let's try to make that happen."

  Great, now he was pep-talking me. I must have really seemed upset.

  We spent the rest of the morning eating, drinking, resting, and pacing. I was edgy and trying not to fume. Sky seemed calmer, sitting cross-legged on the bed and practicing relaxation exercises, keeping half an eye on me every time I glanced his way.

  "It's gonna be okay," he told me, but I didn't know where this sudden serenity had come from. I was less sure all the time. I had been exposed as gay, the captive of a criminal, and unable to fully protect my Sky. It was deep shit any way you looked at it.

  And I still didn't know how to get us out of it. Waiting for the cavalry, making ourselves valuable, and enduring this time seemed to be the best we could hope for. I hoped I was strong enough. Being at other people's mercy seemed to take a hell of a lot more bravery than you'd think.

  I found myself slightly annoyed that Sky stayed calm so easily. But it was important, after all: he needed to stay calm at all costs. It just seemed to be really easy for him now even though I was going nuts here.

  I kept a close eye on him, though. It was automatic now for me to watch Sky and see how he was doing, take cues from him. Not just because we were boyfriends and loved each other, but because I needed to protect him professionally.

  That side of me was on high alert now — the protective side — but I think I'd probably have noticed anyway, as well as we knew each other now. He sat up a little, stiffening, and looked at me automatically, alarm and knowledge in his eyes. He'd sensed something and needed me to know, needed to communicate what he'd learned to me. There was a desperate, beseeching look in his eyes, as if he was begging me to understand. But he didn't say a word.

  He got up off the bed with movements that were only slightly stiff. But his hands were trembling. He went to the little bathroom and shut the door.

  Was someone coming? Was he scared, or going to hurt himself? But he was doing so well! There was a retching sound.

  "Sky!" I dashed in to help him. He was bent over the toilet, gagging a little. "What's the matter?" I knelt beside him without hesitation, even though the bathroom was small, grimy, and cramped. He was trembling, but his heaves seemed to be dry. I put an arm around his shoulder to hold him, to comfort him. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm feeling sick," he said in a soft voice, and then, even softer, leaning against me, trembling, he added, "They're coming."

  "Who?" I asked, very softly.

  "Bolt the bathroom door," he whispered. His hands shook harder. I realized he might be faking feeling ill to get us into a safer part of the basement — if only marginally. The basement was pretty sturdy, no way out without a battering ram or several keys, and a really clever way to trick the guards. The bathroom was a kind of wimpy add-on that didn't have the same sort of sturdy walls and doors, but it would buy us a small reprieve, if they were coming for us.

  I didn't question him. His fear, at least, was real; that was terror in his eyes, pure and simple.

  I jumped to my feet, ran to the door, bolted it, and moved back to him. Now we were jammed into a tiny, nasty little bathroom.

  "Block it," he said, nodding to the tiny cabinet for towels.

  He didn't get off his knees, was still visibly trembling. I put my shoulder into it and pushed the small piece of furniture in front of the door. It seemed woefully inadequate protection against whatever onslaught was coming.

  Then I moved back with him to crouch down beside the toilet near the tub.

  "If they kill us," he whispered, turning in to me suddenly, curling in to me for protection. "I'm so sorry. I love you. I'd never have let you g-get hurt on purpose."

  "I love you, too." I held him close and rubbed his back in what I hoped was a bracing yet reassuring manner. "We're not gonna die."

  I hoped that was true. At least we'd had several months together in love. I wouldn't have traded knowing him for my old life — even if it might've been longer. I'd been so alone back then, and now — now I had him. Even here, like this, it was better than going back to those days for me.

  I didn't know how to tell him that, but I felt his shoulders relax slightly as I thought it. He looked up at me, tears swimming in his eyes. I couldn't read his thoughts, but he was thinking some things — a lot of things, with a lot of love. I pulled him close for a gentle kiss. It tasted of tears, and he was still trembling, but he kissed me back.

  "I'm so scared," he whispered. "They're really angry."

  Then I heard it, too. Footsteps pounding down the stairs. "Where the fuck? Hey! Get out here!"

  "They want us for h-hostages," whispered Sky to me, holding me close. "But some of them want to just k-kill us."

  "So … our guys are here?" I questioned.

  He gave a tight nod, squeezing hold of my shirt, his breath jagged. "I — I can hear it all. Not what's happening, but how everyone's feeling. It's … it's bad. Everybody's thinking about getting shot or shooting people, going to jail and such. They're all scared, angry, stuff like th-that."

  I tugged him closer, if that was possible, and he took a jagged breath and gasped a little, pressing his head against me, rocking slightly.

  The battering started against our little bathroom door. He'd started to cry a little. I knew if they got the door down, there was nothing I could do, so I didn't push him away and move to stand in front of him, offering protection. The only protection I could give was emotional, and that was what he needed most of all. If we died, we'd die together. There was nothing else now. Either we would be rescued in time, or we'd be hostages or homicide victims.

  The swearing and pounding started and then—

  "POLICE! FREEZE!"

  Our guys to the rescue. I heard one gunshot, then angry voices, boots stomping, people being restrained, the click of handcuffs and angry, barked questions.

  Sky couldn't stop shaking. I asked him softly if it was safe now, and he nodded. "Let's get up and leave," I suggested. He nodded again, but he was shaking too hard to rise on his own. I got up, helped him up gently, and moved to shove the cabinet away from the door.

  There was a bullet hole through both of them. Somebody had gotten impatient, or we'd had a ricochet.

  He rushed to the toilet and threw up for real. By the time the cops had the door open, and I had moved the cabinet away, he'd cleaned up but was ashen and looked like he might faint at any moment.

  I recognized the cop who scanned the room with a fierce gaze, and saw her flicker of relief to find us both alive. "Hurt?" she barked.

  I shook my head. "Need to get him out of here," I said, tucking Sky against my side. He looked like he was about five minutes away from going catatonic again. The chaos was bad enough even without his feeling anyone's emotions.

 
She gave me a nod, said something to her partner, and in moments we were being escorted upstairs by our very own armed police escort.

  There were criminals being put into police cars and read their rights while swearing and sweating.

  Sky had to pause and throw up again on the driveway. Then we got him into a police car, and I held on to him the whole way to the station.

  #

  A Mr. Delacruz from the ESRB, a big, competent-looking guy who'd been sent to find us, and Captain Quill questioned us together.

  Quill was tight-lipped and said very little, mostly listened, interjecting only a few questions when he wanted details clarified.

  I answered most of the questions. Sky held on to my hand tightly, squeezing harder than you'd think he could from the look of him. Twice Delacruz interrupted to offer water and food, but Sky barely drank the water, and wouldn't accept anything to eat. I think it was pretty obvious to all of us he just wanted out and was scared of being sent to a hospital.

  "You know they should check you out," I told him gently.

  "I'm fine. I feel great." He leaned against me, trying to suppress his shudders.

  "It's procedure," barked the captain. Sky flinched, his eyelids twitching. Quill softened his voice immediately. "You were captive for days. You need to be checked out by doctors."

  "Hunt looked after me," said Sky in a soft voice that sounded like he was only not lisping because there were no lisp-worthy words in that brief sentence.

  He was emotionally done for, and silently, I knew he was begging me to get him out of it. Medical professionals had done a lot of things that scared Sky in his lifetime. Not the least being locking him up for mental health issues and suicide attempts. Until they healed, the scratches on his arms were warning bells to anyone who knew his history. I'd definitely underplayed the severity of the condition I'd found him in. I made it sound like he was distressed and scared, not unable to even recognize me. But we probably couldn't fool experts.