Nick Nolan

by Double Bound (Sequel To Strings)

  "Please don't do this. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry--it only happened once. He loves you at least as much as he loves me."

  "No. He loves you more." Carlo shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Look, Jeremy's got this whole 'daddy complex,' and I'm a lot of things, but a 'daddy' isn't one of 'em. You guys are lucky you found each other, you know? Square peg, square hole."

  "I'm not taking him away from you."

  "You're absolutely right about that; you're not taking him away from me because I'm giving him to you. He's yours." He swept his arm out to the side, like a game-show hostess.

  "No. When he wakes up you two should talk it over, see where you want things to go. I'll stay out of the picture until you two figure it out, OK?" He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Deal?"

  "Look, that's really noble and all..." Carlo paused, "But what you don't know about me is I can't stand to be second choice, you know? Like there was this guy I was boyfriends with, before Jeremy, and I just didn't feel like being with him anymore.

  But I didn't have anyone else around who was interested in me, so I stuck with him and wound up kind of treating him bad so he'd just go away, and that was mean."

  He looked over at the prone figure in the hospital bed. "And if Jeremy ever did that to me, I don't think I could...take it--I mean my self-esteem wouldn't survive my having to be so desperate. So this way, I get to be the one in charge, and you guys get each other. Win-win."

  "But--" Arthur began to protest.

  " Are you in love with him? " he asked insistently.

  He bit his lip and shrugged. "Yeah," he said finally, with a slow blink.

  "Done deal," Carlo announced. " Believe me, it's better this way. I just wanted to make sure you feel the same way about him because"--he started fighting back sudden tears--"because I can't... stand the thought of Jeremy loving someone who doesn't love him back the same way, you know?"

  Arthur put his arm around him. "I know," he told him softly. "I know."

  "I just love him too much, Arthur." He went over to Jeremy and ran his fingers through the velvet of his buzz cut, then began to cry. "I just do."

  Chapter 46

  Around sunrise he was awakened by the sound of Jeremy thrashing around in bed; the doctor had told him to notify the staff immediately if this should happen, as he didn't want his patient fighting the ventilator. So he left the room while the staff performed the uncomfortable task of pulling the tube out of his throat and cleaning him up, and then waited until the room was clear before stepping in again.

  Jeremy was lying in bed with his eyes closed, and was looking much more like himself without the makeup on his face (Carlo and he, the first chance they got, had wiped his skin clean), or the tube and its apparatus taped over his mouth, even though an IV machine still creaked reliably next to his bedside.

  Arthur stepped lightly along the linoleum, in case he was asleep, and sat down quietly in the chair next to him.

  His eyes lingered over the face of his beloved, who looked--for the very first time that he could recall--tired. While doing so, he saw his cheeks were wet with tears, probably from his eyes being stuck in that terrified gaze for so long.

  But then he heard him moan--a moan of pure anguish.

  Is he awake, or dreaming?

  Then his features pinched tight as he began to cry.

  This is no dream.

  "Hey, what's wrong, old buddy?" he asked, stroking his arm. "What hurts?"

  Jeremy's eyes burst open as he snapped his head toward him. "Arthur?" he gasped.

  "Arthur!"

  He reached over and placed his palm on his forehead. "Right here."

  "Oh, oh, oh, oh! Where's Carlo?" His eyes darted frantically around the room.

  Carlo began stirring from his position on the room's benchlike couch, where he'd been sleeping all balled up since midnight, even through the nightshift's intermittent parade. "Yeah, I'm here," he mumbled while sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

  Jeremy's face contorted into a mask of terrible grief, as his eyes shifted from Arthur to Carlo and back. "I thought you were dead."

  Carlo stroked his chest while Arthur raised his unfettered hand to his lips and kissed it; and Jeremy's body deflated, as if tension were leaking from him like air from a punctured raft. "Did you dream we were dead?" Arthur asked.

  He began sobbing, looking from man to man. "He said--" He tried to speak, but coughed from the effort, because his throat was scratched from the intubation. "He said that--" He coughed again. "That Aunt Katharine said it was too much money and she wouldn't pay it, and then first he killed"--he looked up at Carlo and more tears spilled down his cheeks--"you, and then six hours later you. I thought I'd never see you again!"

  "Oh, my God," Arthur said. "That has to be the cruelest thing he could've done."

  "So what happened? Where did you go after I got kidnapped?"

  "We were up at Fabiano's villa until we left there to find you," Arthur explained.

  "And we didn't have any idea you were up there at the same time we were, until Babalu told us that's probably where he was keeping you."

  "But I wasn't at his house. I was in some cell underground."

  "That's right under his home," Arthur said, "built into the mountain right underneath it."

  "Then Babalu said you'd probably be up at that ceremony, where they'd bleed you to death," Carlo added, "and sure enough there you were. So when the time was right Arthur jumped Fabiano and smashed his face in."

  "You did?"

  "I did my best, but he's a lot bigger than me, so I needed help."

  "What's the last thing you remember?" Carlo asked.

  "It's all kind of fuzzy, because something was wrong with my eyes."

  "Do you remember when Babalu strangled Rosa with his rosary beads?"

  Jeremy shook his head. "Uh-uh."

  "Well, right after that happened, I grabbed Rosa's gun and shot Fabiano in the head," Carlo stated proudly, "killing him instantly."

  "You killed el Gigante?"

  "He saved my life," Arthur stated. "Fabiano was strangling me; another few seconds and he would've crushed my windpipe. Then after Carlo shot him he gave me mouth-to-mouth, and he even made a tourniquet on your arm so you wouldn't bleed to death."

  "But how'd you know how to shoot a gun?"

  "I grew up on a ranch, silly," Carlo replied, smiling for the first time in days. "I could shoot the tassels off a throw pillow."

  "You should've seen him with that gun, wearing that wig; the whole scene was right out of Charlie's Angels. Your boyfriend's quite the big hero, Jeremy, saving all three of our lives at the same time. I'm in awe."

  Carlo shook his head, waving his hands dismissively. "Anyhow, so now that we're all OK and the bad guy's gone forever, how're you feeling?"

  "I guess I'm all right." Jeremy closed his eyes. "I just still can't believe this all happened."

  "I talked to Katharine just before midnight," said Arthur. "She wanted to come down here but I told her not to, because we'd be on the first plane home."

  "When can we leave?" Jeremy asked. "Can we go today, like maybe this afternoon?"

  "The doctors need to make sure you're healthy enough to travel." Arthur rubbed the top of his head. "They're not sure about those things they cut your arm with, so they need to watch out for infection, and make sure your blood pressure is back up to normal, and your other vital signs are stable. But you know that as soon as we can, we'll be out of here. And the police have to ask you some questions, too."

  "I forgot about Rosa doing that to me; can you believe it?" he reached over and touched his thickly bandaged forearm. "I'm just so glad you guys are OK," he said at last, looking up at them. "I couldn't see myself living without you," he told Carlo, and then Arthur. "When he said you were dead, I wanted to die--I really did."

  "We're all safe now," Carlo said. "We'll get out of here, go home, and then everything's gonna go right back to normal." He glanced at Arthur, but Arthur looked away
.

  "What about Babalu? Where's he? I wanted to meet him."

  "He's actually downstairs in another room," Carlo answered.

  "Oh, God, I hope he wasn't hurt!"

  "He's having some tests run, you know, to see if there's anything they can do...to help him."

  "I told the hospital," Arthur cut in, "that we'd pay for anything he needed; I didn't think there'd be a problem."

  Jeremy smiled. "That's what you came here for anyway, huh, Carlo?"

  "I just hope it's not too late for him, you know?"

  Arthur shook his head. "Sometimes when you think you're out of time, you're about to get some more."

  "I sure hope so for him," Jeremy said.

  "Me, too," added Carlo.

  "Yeah." Arthur smiled. "He sure deserves it."

  "I love you guys so much," Jeremy said, then took a deep breath.

  "We love you, too," Arthur murmured.

  "More than you know," Carlo echoed, then caught Arthur's eyes with his own.

  Chapter 47

  They flew from Rio to Miami, where they met their connection to Los Angeles.

  Then five hours later they were home.

  Of course she was waiting for them at LAX, curbside in her pearl white Bentley Continental, with an escort of four motorcycle cops, which she had somehow wrangled.

  Upon seeing the men dragging their bags through the doors, she hopped out of her car and descended upon them, arms wide and resplendent in cream-and-black Chanel. "You're really here!" she exclaimed, as she embraced Jeremy with such enthusiasm that a large Asian family actually stopped to stare. She made her way to Arthur next, then Carlo, kissing each on both cheeks. "What brave, brave men are here, standing before me!" she exclaimed, looking from one to the other. "I knew you'd get through that terrible ordeal--I never doubted any of you for a second." Ignoring the diaperlike bandage on Jeremy's arm, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the curb. "Come, let's take you all home. Carlo, your sister is waiting at our place; I told her to make herself comfortable by the pool, because it's such a gorgeous day by the beach. My, but she is a beautiful girl! Your mother must have been quite extraordinary."

  Jeremy climbed in the front, while Arthur and Carlo belted themselves into the back, and moments later they were speeding in their own motorcade along the curvy exit route headed toward Century Boulevard. "They're only funeral cops, you know." Katharine giggled as one of them signaled for her to slow down. "I just couldn't think of anything else that might make your return feel quite as special--

  and besides, there've been these pesky reporters outside our place for days now."

  They took the 405 freeway north to the 10 west, then motored up Pacific Coast Highway all the way to Ballena Beach. Finally, Katharine made a left into the driveway, where they waited as the rent-a-cops shooed away the paparazzi; and after the gates of the Tyler compound motored open, then swung shut behind them, they were safely home.

  Arthur snapped into his good-butler mode the minute the car stopped: helping Jeremy out of the car, looking after Katharine, and exhibiting businesslike courtesy to Carlo; he rolled their luggage to the laundry room and was even separating colors and whites before taking the time to use the restroom.

  Katharine had arranged for a small homecoming party for the group, having invited the boys' friends Ellie and her girlfriend Reed, in addition to Carmen. She had done her very best to decorate the place, with sprays of fresh flowers scattered about, while the lavish catering had been provided by the best Mexican restaurant in town. And with the sound system set to Jeremy's favorite satellite channel, and the Florentine fountain splashing and the sun brilliant overhead and the waves thundering on the sand and boats in full sail skittering along the blue expanse beyond the cliffs, it was a blissful afternoon, in perfect Katharine Tyler fashion.

  "EeeeEEEEeeeEE!" the three girls squealed as they got up from their chaises and ran to meet the boys. Then after bear hugs and sincere kisses were exchanged, Jeremy excused Carlo and himself to his quarters to shower and change. Arthur wished to do the same--but stayed instead to help serve and engage the guests, and then after the boys returned he would sneak off for a tune-up.

  "So did Carlo really kill that horrible man?" Ellie asked as they made their way over to the long glass dining table. "I still can't believe all this crazy drama happened to you guys."

  "I'm sure he'd prefer to give you his account of what happened, but yep, he did,"

  Arthur said as he pulled out chairs for her and for Reed. "And none of us can believe it all, either."

  "Is Jeremy really OK?" Reed asked as he sat next to them. "That bandage looks totally scary, and Katharine said they gave him drugs that almost killed him."

  "Oh, he's fine, I think," Arthur said, grabbing a Corona from the ice bucket in the center of the table. "At least physically. But we all had a really close call down there. It's a picture that's gonna take a few decades to fade in all of our heads."

  "Why did they do that to him?" Carmen asked.

  Arthur sat back in his chair and popped the cap off his beer. "The main thing was the money, of course. When our government found out who was involved, and made Katharine pull out of the project, Fabiano staged the kidnapping but pretended someone else was behind it, then made himself the 'mediator' for the ransom between 'them' and Katharine. And it would've worked except that she couldn't come up with that much money on such short notice."

  "She couldn't?" Ellie asked. "That's weird."

  "I'm sure she could've if they'd given her more time to liquidate some assets, but it was a lot of money. A lot. And a really short ransom period--I don't think it was even forty-eight hours." He thought for a moment. "I guess even rich folks wind up feeling poor, sometimes."

  "But what about all of that anti-American stuff we heard about?" Reed asked.

  "Why would they be involved in something like that resort, especially one that's supposed to have perfect security to keep them out?"

  "Because," Katharine broke in as she approached the table with a glass of wine in her hand, "they needed a guaranteed investment, something that everyone would want to throw money at--and of course no militia group would blow up their fattest cash cow, so of course its security was 'guaranteed.'" She pulled out a chair and sat.

  "We've found out more, since all of this transpired, by the way." She took a long sip, then shook her head as she swallowed it. "Our sources theorize that their long-range plan was to bilk the consortium for additional money once the enterprise was open, while showing less of a profit after the first gangbuster years. And then"--she took another sip--"they would begin to show bigger and bigger losses, which would need additional investor support to keep the island 'afloat,' so to speak. And if that didn't work, our sources believe they may have even planned to hold the entire island, and all of its inhabitants, hostage."

  "That's crazy!" Reed exclaimed.

  "But it's also brilliant, young lady. The world has changed over the past decade, and people are justifiably frightened, especially when certain American entities have done their very best to fuel, and then to capitalize on, people's fears." She looked at each of them at the table as she spoke, as if starring in her own infomercial. "'Fear' has become the 'damnation' of the new millennium, with a growing number of people and groups advertising their specific--and costly--

  remedies for 'salvation.' And I am ashamed to say that my late husband had us involved with such a loathsome group."

  "But we're not anymore," Arthur said. "And thank God we got out of that situation alive."

  "So my little brother was the big hero, right?" asked Carmen, sounding awestruck.

  "even his dad is so proud of him."

  "If it weren't for him, we'd all be dead right now. We were only seconds, like maybe three seconds, from being--"

  Katharine pushed her chair back noisily and stood up from the table. "Does anyone want anything more to drink?" she asked cheerfully. "I'm going into the house."

  Ellie
held up her glass. "Could I have just a teeny bit of that white wine?"

  Katherine smiled slyly. "One glass, young lady. And not a word to your mother; she'd have me arrested. Anyone else?"

  "I'll have some, too," Reed said.

  "I'm good," Arthur stated, lifting up his Corona.

  "Very well." And with that, Katharine shoved her chair back under the table and began marching toward the house.

  They heard some laughing, and turned to see Jeremy and Carlo, with their arms around Carmen's boyfriend Darius, as they descended the stairs toward the seated group.

  "So where's your gorgeous boy toy been hiding all this time?" Ellie asked Carmen.

  "He had to find someone to cover his shift at the restaurant," she answered, as Jeremy and Carlo pulled out chairs next to each other and sat, while Darius made his way over to Carmen, then kissed her lightly on the lips. "Hey, baby," she said.

  They spent the next few hours talking about the ordeal and relaxing while catching up on everyone's summer, and Arthur busied himself with playing host, while hiding how much he needed to just relax and recuperate. Katharine, he noticed, was making herself uncharacteristically scarce, as well as unusually helpful. She hardly sat down, and seemed to flee when someone made any reference to the gory specifics of their nightmare.

  But he had more important things on his mind than Katharine Tyler, as he was scrutinizing the body language of Jeremy and Carlo, and trying to divine exactly what the hell was going on--because for a couple who was allegedly on the verge of breaking up, they sure looked chummy. In fact, they looked like newlyweds: knowing glances, hands intertwined, soft words exchanged, simultaneous giggling.

  Hadn't Carlo told him yet?

  No. He needed to relax. It was still really soon.

  He would speak with Jeremy tonight to find out what was going on.

  But sitting here at the table with them was becoming more and more unsettling; it was clear there were two groups present: the kids and the oldsters.

  And clearly, he and his beloved were in opposing groups.

  He decided it was his turn to go inside and freshen up, as the second beer had hit him hard, and he was zonked as it was from all the air travel. And if anyone blamed him for not reappearing, then fuck 'em--because he was just too exhausted, too shell-shocked and too heartsick to care.