Guarding His Melody

by Victoria Sue

  Derwent drew himself up. “We have never needed to work nights.”

  Gray noticed the way Fielding’s eyes suddenly focused. “You think we have a threat here,” she said, clearly catching on.

  “But I thought the queer was the problem?” Innes pushed himself off the file cabinet. Paula rolled her eyes, and she looked at Derwent in some exasperation.

  “Are you telling me Armitage has no security on the grounds through the night?” Gray was incredulous. It should have been started as soon as they thought there was a threat.

  “As we told the cops,” Derwent replied, “there has never been any problem here. I’m a light sleeper, and so was Smith. Hell, they have no evidence to suppose the attack on the music teacher had anything to do with Seb. There’s always people who get worked up about enhanced. Doesn’t mean they’ll actually do anything. And the kiddy fiddler deserved it. If I’d have known, I’d have shot him myself.” Derwent grinned, and for the first time in over a year, Gray wanted to cause physical pain to someone.

  “I’ll take tonight,” Fielding said. “I was off this morning.”

  Fielding immediately went up a couple of notches in Gray’s estimation. He was pleased to see someone at least seemed to know what they were doing around here. He waved off the possible hostility from earlier. He didn’t know what Derwent had spewed. “I’ll have a proper schedule drawn up tomorrow when I’ve assessed the threat fully, but video surveillance may be enough.”

  Fielding picked up the radio and the M16 leaning casually against the wall, which was ridiculous and decidedly overkill for the house, but he guessed Rambo thought it looked good.

  “How many radios do you have?” Gray asked immediately.

  “One each,” Innes replied before Derwent did. Gray silently held out his hand for Innes’s, and, startled, Innes handed it over. “But what if I’m needed?”

  “I’ll shout,” Gray said dryly, but it went straight over Innes’s head and he just smiled eagerly.

  Gray glanced at his watch. It was already nearly nine. “That will be enough for tonight.” He looked at Derwent. “Does Mr. Armitage have any appointments tomorrow?”

  He scowled. “I don’t know. I’m not his damn secretary.”

  “I’m asking because I want to know how you plan for schedule conflicts. There’s only three of you, and Fielding is on duty tonight.” He tried to be patient and wished Rawlings had been given carte blanche with hiring and firing personnel.

  Derwent just glowered at him.

  “We’ll meet at zero eight hundred hours,” Gray confirmed and then left to find Keswick to ask when the funeral was.

  He didn’t have to go far, as the kitchen door opened and Keswick walked out sipping a coffee. “Mr. Darling? Are you hungry? Maybe I can at least show you the ground floor?”

  “Gray.” Gray gestured to the kitchen. He’d eaten at home. “If there’s any more coffee?” Seb had been on his own for just a little over fifteen minutes, and Gray glanced at his phone, knowing he wouldn’t have missed any alarm notifications, but even so.

  Keswick smiled and held the door open. Gray stepped through. Wow. It was the sort of kitchen you saw in the realtor magazines that often graced dentists’ waiting rooms, but it wasn’t modern. He felt like he’d just stepped back thirty years and was watching one of the cooking shows his mom liked, but as his gaze swept over the dark pine cabinets, he adjusted his first impression. This kitchen wasn’t old; it was traditional, and he would guess from the sleek range to the Sub-Zero refrigerator that he knew was top-of-the-line from being in some of their clients’ homes, it came with a hefty price tag.

  Keswick walked straight to one end to a coffee machine that looked like it belonged in his local Starbucks. Thankfully, Keswick simply lifted a carafe already brewed that sat on a hot plate to the side. “Black?”

  Gray chuckled in anticipation of his reaction. “Actually, three creams and two sugars.” Coffee was his only vice; he didn’t even drink alcohol anymore.

  Keswick’s eyebrows disappeared into his shock of gray hair, and he grinned back but prepared the coffee as Gray requested. Gray sipped it appreciatively and leaned against the counter. He really didn’t need a tour now that he had the diagram. He wanted information, and he didn’t want to take too long. He didn’t like the idea of Sebastian being vulnerable.

  “How often does Sebastian go for piano lessons?”

  Keswick took a sip of his own coffee and gestured to the kitchen table. Gray followed him, and they both sat. “When he’s well, probably twice a month.”

  Gray cradled his cup for warmth. “How good is he?” Gray was a little shocked at his own question. He hadn’t planned to ask that at all.

  Keswick put his cup down on the large but well-worn pine table. “Honestly? Monsieur Dubois stopped charging Mr. Armitage for tuition eleven months ago. In his opinion, there was nothing else he could teach Sebastian. He wanted him to go to lessons with a professor he knows at Juilliard, but Sebastian won’t.”

  “Because he gets sick?”

  “Yes, and he never knows when it’s going to affect him, but stress—any kind—is worse, so being in an unknown environment would be akin to torture.”

  “I understand the cochlear implants didn’t work.”

  Keswick shook his head. “The second attempt was particularly disappointing for everybody.”

  Gray waited. The inflection in Keswick’s voice made him think there was more coming. Keswick took a gulp of his coffee, so Gray decided to push. “I guess there would be more pressure for a second operation to be successful?”

  Keswick put his cup down and licked his lips. “Yes, but not just that. Did you know Mr. Armitage has been researching and ultimately manufacturing cochlear implants since his son became deaf?”

  Gray shook his head. He knew the old man was heavily into electronics, but he wasn’t surprised. “I would guess that makes sense.” Armitage had said as much earlier.

  “Sebastian was getting a model that hasn’t been released to the public yet. Cochlear implants work—my apologies if you know—on stimulating the auditory nerve. Regular hearing aids merely increase sound; cochlear implants provide a different route to get signals to the brain, so they can be translated into sound. The latest research involves vibrations similar to ultrasound. I’m not party to that myself, as I deal in Mr. Armitage’s general diary commitments. He has separate research updates.”

  “Is that why Dr. McKay was here? He does home visits?”

  “Not exactly. Sebastian is due to have further surgery soon. Dr. McKay wants the procedure to happen quickly, and they were hoping to set a date.”

  “And Sebastian doesn’t?”

  Keswick hesitated, clearly wondering about the line he was walking between protecting his employer’s privacy and helping Gray to have the facts he needed to do his job. Or maybe Seb doesn’t want to do it at all? He’d thought the argument between Seb and his dad that he obviously interrupted when he arrived was due to his presence, but that made no sense. Especially with the doctor being in the room. He would bet McKay and Armitage were trying to get Seb to agree to another surgery.

  “What does he do all day? Sebastian,” Gray qualified, changing the subject a little.

  “He actually has a job.”

  Gray blinked. There had been no mention of that in any of the reports. “Doing?”

  “Translations. Specifically English to Norwegian, but also French and Spanish to Norwegian.”

  “Norwegian?” Gray repeated doubtfully.

  Keswick chuckled. “You thought I was going to say Mandarin or some rare Indian dialect, didn’t you?”

  “Well, Mandarin is the most spoken language in the world.” He shrugged.

  “Exactly.” Keswick grinned, obviously warming to his subject. “Millions of people speak it, and because of that, it is quite cheap to get it translated.”

  “And Norwegian isn’t?” But it was a regular European country. Not exactly difficult to get to.

/>   “Norway is one of the most expensive countries in the world to live in, and their translators charge three times the usual rate, especially Spanish or French into Norwegian. Their high taxes coupled with a low population leads to high wages. Sebastian researched this when he was around fourteen. He could already speak Spanish very fluently. French was similar and not hard to learn for him. I believe Norwegian took him a little longer, but just to put that into perspective, I’m talking months not weeks.”

  “So, he what, gets emails? Downloads them?” Armitage hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his son was intelligent, and Gray felt inexplicably proud of him, considering they barely knew each other. Seb had some harsh knocks in his life, but he had taken everything on board and pushed back with what he had. But then, he did have money to soften the blow.

  “No, all documents are securely couriered. He is legally unable to download them onto any device that a copy may be obtained from. He had to sign some very stringent confidentiality agreements. He also has to sign for them himself. Mr. Armitage isn’t happy that this happens, and he stopped the last one, which would have been this morning.”

  Couriers coming onto the property and having immediate access to Sebastian? Gray would bet Armitage wasn’t happy. He wasn’t thrilled himself. “I’m going to need details of where the documents come from.”

  “Then you would have to ask Sebastian. We only have the courier company details, which I passed on to the police.” Gray watched as Keswick drank his coffee. There had been something in the last sentence, an inflection….

  “I’m surprised Sebastian isn’t working for his father.” It was a little of an obvious fishing expedition, but Keswick seemed to fall for it.

  Keswick shrugged. “I’m not party to Sebastian’s plans, but I don’t think he wants to take on such a big commitment until he is recovered.”

  Recovered? That was the second time the word had been used. And recovered from what, exactly? Being deaf? It seemed incongruous that Armitage would give the lecture about the cops being homophobic and then see his son as something that needed to be fixed. Gray finished his coffee and walked to the sink to rinse his cup. He couldn’t decide whether Keswick disapproved of Seb joining the company or not. “Last question. Sebastian wants to go to Arron’s funeral. When is it?”

  He turned around to face Keswick when the man remained silent. Keswick looked uncomfortable. “Mr. Armitage has forbidden him to go. That was the second argument they had this evening.”

  Shit. Gray had already told Sebastian he could go. He placed the cup on the drainer. “Because it’s a security issue or the same apparent reason Arron shot himself?” Gray asked bluntly.

  Keswick glanced at the door for a second before he looked back. “Both?” He sounded doubtful.

  Gray nodded. The security was probably being used as an excuse for the other reason. Armitage didn’t want his son associated with the pornography issue. Gray guessed he couldn’t blame the old man, but he couldn’t do his job unless Sebastian trusted him. He knew Danny was trying to find out more about the pictures. Their validity, for one thing. If and how they got onto Arron’s computer. If they were planted, then how? Gray would keep an open mind about Arron until he heard back from the office. There wasn’t anything Danny couldn’t do on a computer.

  “You will confirm funeral arrangements when you have them?” He phrased it as a question, but he assumed by Keswick’s expression he didn’t take it as one.

  Sebastian had a job, did he? Good for him. He was still effectively trapped in his house, though, but Gray had his own ideas on that. He looked at his watch. His plan would start at zero six hundred hours, so he ought to get moving.

  Chapter Five

  SEB DOZED eventually. The pain in his head had dulled enough for him to do so, but he stayed on the couch. Gray would be sleeping in here. In his room. With me. And Seb wasn’t sure how he felt about that, at all. He didn’t remember Mrs. P ever staying with him, but he knew she had just after his mom died. He’d never liked any of the nannies his dad tried to employ. They were probably very competent, but for someone who just lost his mom, he hadn’t been very receptive toward a replacement. Over the years he’d become good at sneaking downstairs and watching people talk about him when they didn’t know he was there. All that spying helped him learn to read lips pretty quickly.

  At the light touch to his arm, he opened his eyes, and he took a second to allow himself to be surprised and to wonder why that was. It was odd. He hated people in here, and this time Gray had walked in.

  And you let him. Seb always locked the door. The thought of him not knowing when someone entered the room freaked him out, but not this time. Maybe he was sicker than he thought? He wasn’t dizzy, though, and his headache had cleared.

  Gray stood there holding a small bag, a blanket, and a pillow. Wow, he was serious. For some reason Seb had expected Gray to back down after he met Andrew. He was sure Andrew would have persuaded Gray there wasn’t a threat. He was torn again.

  “Did you get some rest? I’m sorry I woke you up. Is it okay if I call you Sebastian?”

  Seb’s nose wrinkled at the name. “Seb,” he mouthed rather than spoke. His dad insisted on calling him Sebastian. Gray nodded and looked at the half-eaten power bar Seb had valiantly tried.

  “Would you like some toast instead?”

  Seb shook his head. He wasn’t hungry, but his slim frame didn’t carry enough extra pounds, and he’d been sick quite a bit this week.

  “The only way into your bathroom is through your bedroom.”

  Seb followed Gray’s gaze toward the door to his room. It hadn’t been a question, he didn’t think, but sometimes the nuances of speech were lost on him. He was better when he knew a person. His bathroom had been made by taking space from his bedroom. Originally the rooms had both been separate, but once he wanted his piano up here, his dad did some remodeling, and as there was only ever him in here walking through his room to get to the bathroom, it had never been a problem. Was that the point Gray was making? That he would have to come through Seb’s bedroom in the night?

  “I saw another bathroom in the corridor. I’m not interested in violating your privacy, but I need to be able to leave the room to use it, and I was worried the door opening may disturb you.” He gestured to the light. “Does it also alert you when you’re in there?”

  Seb shook his head. He simply locked his door. His phone was set up to vibrate violently during the night, and he slept with it in an arm holster, so he would feel it.

  “It only comes on when someone knocks.” There was a pad that activated the door. He hadn’t wanted a bell. Seb didn’t say any of that, though. He was keeping words to a minimum and watching Gray to check he understood. He was tired and knew his words slurred when that happened. Gray nodded again and tossed the pillow and blanket on the couch.

  Seb was suddenly uncomfortable and got up to head for his bedroom. Then he paused, wondering if he should say something—“good night” maybe. He shook the thought off and went into his room, but before he fully closed the door, he felt guilty, churlish even. The man was risking his life to protect Seb’s. But Gray had his back to him, and as Seb came into the room, Gray lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  Seb must have made some horrified sound, and Gray whipped around. For a second Seb stood there immobile, his brain processing the most god-awful mangled and scarred skin littering Gray’s back. “I’m sorry,” Seb blurted. “I just wanted to say good night.”

  Gray took a breath, holding his shirt in front of him, and Seb flushed. He could feel the heat practically climbing his body. He whirled around before he could say or do anything else to embarrass himself and closed the door.

  SOMETHING WOKE him much later, and he lay there for a few minutes, wondering why. It wasn’t a noise obviously, and he didn’t need to pee especially. He hadn’t slept well since last week, and he ran a hand over his eyes and tried to relax. It wasn’t just his speech that was bad when he wa
s tired. He ran a risk of migraines as well—and not only was the pain hell on earth, but they usually messed with his balance and made him nauseous, if not downright sick like yesterday.

  The last sight that had burned the back of his eyes came into his head—Gray’s skin. He couldn’t imagine what caused such horrific injuries, or how much it must have hurt. Had he been burned? Maybe trapped in a fire? Seb’s dad had told him Gray Darling was ex-military, but they had no other details. There were horrific reports on TV every so often about explosions and attacks in war-torn countries, but according to his dad, Gray had never been deployed overseas. His dad said the military was probably glad to see Gray leave, but Seb wasn’t sure. There was a stillness about Gray, but it wasn’t an easy one. The man was all about control, and for a second, Seb wondered what it would be like to see it go.

  Then he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to find out.

  After another few minutes, Seb decided going back to sleep was pointless and sat up cautiously. He felt fine, but he still had the song he had been working on yesterday running around in his head, and he wanted to write it down. He got up eagerly, pulled on his robe, and opened the door, then came to an abrupt halt as a shadow moved away from the window. For a second, a wave of panic crashed over him until he recognized Gray.

  “Sorry, did I disturb you?”

  Seb caught the wince on Gray’s face when he realized what he said. He couldn’t have disturbed Seb because Seb wouldn’t have heard anything. Seb was worried it might be awkward after last night, but they hadn’t even arrived at easy yet, so it should be no different. Seb shook his head and then looked longingly at his piano. He glanced back at Gray.

  “If you want to play, it won’t bother me.”

  Seb smiled. It would bother the rest of the house, though, and he took out his headphones from the box next to the piano and connected them. He glanced at Gray and nearly laughed when he saw the puzzled look. He was willing to bet Gray had never heard of a silent piano. Seb sat in front of the keys and pulled over his sheets of notes and a pen, then fitted the slim headphones just over his ears. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the keys, preparing to immerse himself and get to the place where he’d been struggling with the chorus last time. He opened his eyes instantly at the touch on his arm and looked at Gray, who had moved next to him.