by John Inman
“Don’t you understand?” she screamed. “The storm is over. We have to run. Now! We have to get away from this evil house before he kills us all.”
Her haunted eyes flew from face to face, then from door to door, as she gauged every avenue of escape. She glanced at the wineglass in her hand and instantly flung it away. The crystal smashed against the stone fireplace, scattering tinkling shards of glass in every direction. Streaks of merlot stained the wall red, like blood spatters at a crime scene. Under the circumstances, an apt simile if there ever was one, Jamie thought.
Her gaze at last fell upon the door leading out to the hall.
Stumbling as if blinded by her own fear, she lurched across the room. Her ankle caught the overturned chair and sent it skidding across the floor. She almost fell but with a cry righted herself at the last moment.
“Stop her!” someone demanded.
Only Jamie answered the call.
He flung himself away from the table and pounded after her. A rush of cool air struck his face as she pulled the front door open, then hurled herself out into the waning daylight.
The rain had stopped, the skies at long last silent. But still angry clouds, like great balls of black silk, hovered overhead. In the air was a sense that it wasn’t over yet. The storm, the killing, none of it.
Running as fast as she could, Cleeta-Gayle splashed through the mud toward the cars.
“The cars are useless. They’re destroyed,” Jamie called out, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t turn.
Jamie was surprised how quickly the woman could move. He bizarrely took the time to wonder if she was a jogger. Then before he knew it, she had passed the cars and disappeared among the trees at the edge of the property.
Jamie threw himself into the woods directly behind her. Here, the shadows were deeper. The gloom was almost tangible, as if you could actually reach your hand out and feel it on your fingertips. In the raw, damp air, he thought he could still smell the smoke from the second-floor fireplace, where Mrs. Jupp had lain crisping. It had to be his imagination, but the thought sent a chill through him anyway.
He wasn’t wearing a coat, and when a limb caught his arm, it tore the skin. He cried out in pain but kept going. Glancing back, he saw Derek and Tommy and Banyon standing on the porch, watching him. Derek was pointing off to the side, and Jamie realized he was steering him toward the woman he was chasing.
Jamie shifted directions, and a moment later, there among the trees ahead, he saw a crumpled mass at the base of a tall, twisted pine. It was Cleeta-Gayle Jones. She was weeping, hugging the bole of the tree. She must have stumbled and fallen. Her legs were smeared with mud, and her cheek was scraped raw where she must have struck the trunk of the tree on the way down.
Ignoring the muddy ground, Jamie quickly dropped to his knees beside her and wrapped her in his arms. “It’s all right,” he cajoled. “Trust me. We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”
She lifted her head to stare at him through frightened, tear-filled eyes. The scrape on her cheek looked nasty. A tiny rivulet of blood had already slipped along the planes of her neck to disappear inside her blouse. Jamie would have to treat the cut when they got back to the house.
She eyed him with what could only be described as profound sympathy. “You don’t understand, do you?” she asked, as if speaking to a child. “We really are trapped. There’s nowhere to go, no way to leave. We’re already dead. All of us. You, me, your boyfriend, all of us. We were dead the minute we set foot inside that house.”
Somehow the simple way she referred to Derek as his boyfriend bothered him. He smiled and spoke softly, as gently as he could. “Derek’s not my boyfriend, he’s my lover. And I’ll keep him safe if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Is he worth dying for?” she asked. “Is your kind of love really strong enough for that?” Her eyes were wide, piercing, as if she really wanted to know. As if she truly needed to understand.
“Yes,” Jamie said. “It’s strong enough for that.”
And reaching down, he clasped her muddy hand and pulled her to her feet.
At that moment, Derek came splashing through the muck and gathered them both in his arms.
“Let’s go back to the house,” he said calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world that they should be hanging on to each other in the middle of the woods, covered with mud. “Let’s get the two of you cleaned up.”
Jamie and Derek held tightly to Cleeta-Gayle as they stumbled a soggy path back through the trees toward the house. She almost fell once, but they braced her and kept her safe. Jamie cast a weary smile in Derek’s direction as they approached the porch, and a second later, Derek shot him a wink in return.
As they steered the woman up the porch steps and into the house, Tommy snarled at the woman as she passed. “Stupid bitch.”
Jamie withered him with a look of pure hatred. Fists clenched, Jamie moved to throw himself at the kid, but Derek tugged him back.
“Help me with her,” Derek said. “Let’s get her inside. This is more important than you punching that twat in the face.”
Their eyes met, and Jamie smiled through tight lips. The mere sight of Derek’s sweet face caused him to swallow his anger and refocus on the task at hand.
Cleeta-Gayle, propped between the two, lifted her eyes to first Derek, then Jamie.
“You boys are both kind. And you do love each other. I can see it now,” she whispered softly. Resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder, she let them steer her toward the door. By the time they ducked inside, she was once again softly crying.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed as they led her up the stairs. And she kept saying it as she wept. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Jamie tutted her to silence and lowered her to a chair inside her room. “We’ll let you clean yourself up,” he said kindly.
He and Derek eased back out into the hall and quietly closed her door behind them.
Chapter Ten
“I LOVE the taste of you,” Jamie murmured, his voice deep and husky, his lips traveling the still-moist length of Derek’s softening cock.
Derek had to concentrate to unearth his voice. His body was still shaken by the explosive orgasm he had just experienced, thanks to Jamie and his extremely talented mouth.
He had been gently coaxed from a troubled sleep maybe fifteen minutes earlier. Jamie, he discovered then, had slipped beneath the covers and was oh so lovingly burrowing his way down Derek’s torso, trailing kisses over his skin, seeking what Derek knew Jamie loved the most.
“Let me reciprocate,” Derek breathed into the darkness. He made a move to roll Jamie onto his back, but Jamie unexpectedly pushed back.
With his lips still on Derek’s tender skin below, Jamie whispered in a fragile voice, “Please don’t move. I’m enjoying myself.” And with that, he slipped Derek’s glistening length into his eager, loving mouth yet again.
Derek shuddered blissfully. Grasping at Jamie’s hair, holding him in place right where he knew Jamie wanted to be, he wrapped a leg over Jamie’s back and trapped him close.
“Oh God, yes…,” Jamie moaned, barely coherent since his mouth was full. “I love your fuzzy legs around me.”
Derek giggled, but he tried to sound butch about it. He wasn’t quite sure he succeeded.
Jamie’s hands soothed him as they traveled over his body. Jamie’s warm breath on his stomach felt wonderful. Jamie’s lips and tongue, tickling a path through Derek’s damp pubic hair, made Derek’s breath catch in his throat, made his heart skip little beats now and then.
Derek twisted sideways in the bed, wrapping himself around Jamie and holding him as close as he could. Together they created a bundle of satin flesh, welcoming, worshipping, sleep-warm. Arms, legs, chests. When Jamie squirmed higher in the bed, their mouths came together in a long, devouring kiss.
Jamie tasted deliciously of Derek’s juices. Jamie’s breath lay hot on Derek’s face as they pulled gently apart in
the cocoon of darkness beneath the covers.
Together, they pulled the blankets down and peeked out into the room, like two animal peering from the safety of their lair.
The house lay buried in late-night shadow, the darkened sky outside still oddly silent. The storm had not returned. Not yet. But was it Derek’s imagination, or did the postmidnight air smell of ozone once again? Was another storm drawing near, creeping over the horizon perhaps? Not that it mattered. They couldn’t be trapped here in this damnable old house any more than they already were. If the weather cleared they might be able escape through the trees, he supposed. But if they did, who would they choose to travel with them? Who did they trust?
It was bizarre the way Jamie often deciphered Derek’s thoughts. Sometimes even before Derek could.
“You want to leave,” Jamie said softly. “If we do, we’ll have to go alone. I don’t trust anyone enough to take them along.” He was under the covers again. He had burrowed back down to lay his cheek to the soft fuzz on Derek’s stomach. When he spoke, his lips and hot breath caressed Derek’s skin. It was such an erotic sensation, Derek felt his cock begin to lengthen again in increments.
Jamie must have felt it too. He purred and snuggled closer.
Derek wrapped Jamie’s head in his arms, holding him tightly against him. Down below, their hairy legs bristled together, and at his back, Jamie’s warm hands traced the line of his hips, massaging gently.
“We can’t abandon everyone,” Derek said, his mouth in Jamie’s hair. “There are three other people here, and as far as we know, two of them are innocent. Do we really want to leave them behind?”
Jamie lay still for a moment. Finally, he circled Derek’s lengthening cock in his warm fingers and laid the shaft lovingly against his cheek. Derek felt Jamie’s tongue slip out and lick away a drop of Derek’s juices left over from the orgasm before. Or was it a prelude to the next explosive eruption? Derek smiled in the dark at the casual way Jamie laid claim to his secretions.
“Then we’ll have to stay,” Jamie breathed, his lips moving once again to Derek’s stomach.
As if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, Jamie rolled away from Derek’s embrace and sat up in the bed. The night was so lightless and the sky outside so wreathed in the residue of the storm that had come before, and the new one moving in now, that Derek could not discern even Jamie’s outline in the dark.
By feel, Derek doubled over and planted a kiss on Jamie’s knee. Jamie responded by stroking Derek’s ear with just a lazy tweak of his fingertips, as if he was too busy thinking things through to really respond. “We have to search the house,” Jamie said. “We need to find those pictures, but every time we’ve talked about it, something happens to distract us. We can’t let it go again.”
“Yes,” Derek agreed. “You’re right. Tomorrow we’ll search the house. And if it’s not storming, we’ll check out the grounds as well.”
They both fell silent when they heard the sound of sobbing coming from down the hall yet again. It was Cleeta-Gayle, the only woman left among them.
“Poor thing has been crying all night,” Jamie muttered. “She’s terrified.”
Derek gave an unsympathetic grunt. “Aren’t we all.”
The sobbing stilled. The house grew silent once more. Jamie settled down under the covers again and pulled Derek into his arms.
“I like this,” Derek crooned, laying his cheek to Jamie’s chest.
“Me too.”
Beyond the windowpane next to the bed, Derek heard the soft twitter of night birds somewhere off in the trees. He wondered if they were mourning the fact that another storm was moving in.
“Have you ever been in love like this before?” Derek asked quietly. “I mean, we’ve both had infatuations with people over the years. Crushes with one hunk or another. Sometimes both of us slobbering over the very same guy, ha-ha. But has it ever felt like this before? Has it ever felt so… exactly right?”
Jamie brushed a kiss through the hair on Derek’s chest. “Never,” he breathed. “Not once.”
“So we really do love each other, then,” Derek said on a sigh. He sounded faintly amazed, as if the truth of it had only this minute belted him between the eyes.
“Yes” was all Jamie said. As if he knew deep down in his heart it was all he needed to say.
“You were my friend before, and now you’re my lover,” Derek whispered. “Yet somehow I never noticed when it happened. It’s like you gradually melted into me. I’m glad you’re with me, you know. I’m glad you’re here.”
Jamie laughed. “You mean you’re glad I’m here with you in this house of death with a murderer lurking behind every potted plant? Thanks a lot. I’m glad you’re here too.”
Derek yanked Jamie closer, playfully setting his teeth into the curve of his neck. He gnawed at Jamie like a dog with a bone. Through a grin, he said, “You know what I mean.”
Jamie laughed and tried to squirm away.
They quieted when in the distance they heard an ominous rumble. The faintest flash of silver light stabbed a path through the shadows around them. A flurry of raindrops, fat and quick, spattered the window by their heads.
“Crap,” Jamie said, his body tense in Derek’s arms. “It’s starting up again.”
“Atmosphere,” Derek groaned. “A cheesy plot device. Who writes this shit, anyway?”
Jamie laughed softly. “It’s not a story, precious. It’s real life. And I’m afraid we’re stuck in the middle of it.”
“Don’t remind me,” Derek groused. Tugging the covers over their heads, he pulled Jamie close, losing himself in the joy of their melded warmth.
The last words Derek remembered hearing before sleep overtook him was Jamie muttering softly in his ear, “I love you so much. I love you. So. Much.”
And even in sleep, their embrace lived on. Derek awoke at dawn, still clutching Jamie tight.
As Jamie snored softly in his arms, Derek, eager and hard, slid downward in the bed, his cheek gliding smoothly across Jamie’s hip. Time for a little tit for tat.
THE NEW storm had not reached its peak yet when Jamie, feeling feisty and sexually drained, which he thought was an excellent way to start the day, opened the bedroom door and ushered Derek into the hall. “You go first,” he said, executing a sarcastic little salami-salami-baloney bow, “in case the killer is out there waiting with a hammer. We don’t want the brains of the outfit to be bumped off first.”
Derek slipped past him with a good-natured scowl. “You’re right. The butch one should go first.”
For show, Jamie tried to look stricken. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
Chuckling, they descended the stairs and headed straight for the front door. The house was silent. As they passed the dining room, Jamie peered inside, but there was no one there. Perhaps no one else was up yet.
Stepping out onto the porch, again with Derek going first, they were met with a gusting, dew-laden morning that sent goose bumps creeping and crawling up Jamie’s back. It must have dropped twenty degrees during the night. An icy wind stirred the hair around his face. He edged closer to Derek and peered out over his shoulder.
“The storm is definitely coming back this way,” Derek said, scanning the sky. “If you close your eyes and listen, you can almost hear it building overhead.”
“Then, if we’re going to search the grounds,” Jamie observed, “we’d better do it now.”
Derek studied his face. Jamie stood patiently while he did, loving those warm brown eyes on him. Loving the way Derek let a tiny smile slip onto his features as he stared. Loving the way he remembered waking up that morning with Derek’s mouth engulfing him, ravishing him as dawn slipped into the room.
Derek finally released him from his gaze. Taking Jamie’s hand, he led him down the porch steps and onto the unkempt lawn. There was no grass underfoot. There never had been. They crunched over brittle plant life, weeds and bracken mostly, all of it long dead from lack of care. Beneath the dead
stems, the ground was muddy from yesterday’s rain.
Still clutching Jamie’s hand, Derek steered them around the corner of the house. At one point they stepped over a green shutter that had succumbed to the storm. Wedges of roofing shingles, ancient and bleached pale from years of sun, were scattered about, torn from the roof in the gale.
“If this weather keeps up,” Jamie said, “the house will fall down around our ears.”
“Let’s hope not,” Derek answered. He stopped and pointed up ahead. “Look! There’s a shed back there. Let’s check it out.”
Jamie let himself be led toward an old clapboard building that had once been a garage, but was now clearly used for storage. They knew this by all the discarded junk piled in front of the broad front door. Peeking around the side of the building, they found a simple storm door, the glass in it filthy with age and embroidered with cobwebs.
Derek reached out and tested the door handle. To Jamie’s surprise, it turned easily. Cautiously, they pulled the door open and stepped inside, again with Derek leading the way. Jamie followed close behind, his fingers hooked in Derek’s back pocket. Not because he was afraid, he told himself, but because he wanted to be near if Derek should suddenly need protecting.
Yeah, right.
They took two steps inside before stopping to study the interior. The place was packed with junk. Boxes, old furniture, bags of trash. An old riding lawn mower stood in the corner, splotchy with rust. Perhaps it had been used before the tenants grew too old to continue to care for the property. A battered bicycle, equally rusty, stood propped against the wall, the once colorful plastic streamers trailing from the handlebars now faded to gray. The tires were flat. It didn’t look like it had been touched in a decade.
They heard some sort of small animal chittering back among the boxes.
“What the hell is that?” Jamie hissed, knowing he was biting off the words in nervous little clips but not really caring. The great thing about love was that Derek had already seen him at his worst. There was nothing more Jamie needed to hide. At least he hoped there wasn’t.