by Wolfe, H. M.
"I better go, gather everyone and tell them you will be making an important announcement, Mister Somerset. With your permission, Mister Ashburn, Mister Spellmann," Gloria smiled through tears.
Alastair couldn't take his eyes from Mallory, who looked the same, but yet completely different. He had more of everything. More authority, noticeable especially in his posture. More charisma, more confidence. The lawyer seemed surrounded by an aura of power. His eyes shone with passion and determination.
Arranging his tie and smoothing the fine wrinkles on his coat by running his palm over them, Mallory was getting ready to be introduced as one of the new senior associates of the law office he had slaved in for the last seven years.
Outside, in the lobby, most of the employees received the news with a mixture of relief, concern, and curiosity. Relief for Weldon's departure, as only very few of them liked him. Concern for Somerset's retirement, because almost all perceived him as the captain of the ship, and curiosity because almost nobody knew anything about the new associates.
Alastair waited patiently in the office that, most likely, would be Mallory's once Somerset retired and moved his personal belongings out. Through the glass wall, he could hear how the young man talked with his former co-workers, assuring them that no one would lose their job, on the contrary, each of them would get a substantial raise.
The patriarch of the Stark family smiled, happy to see finally see good deeds being awarded. He didn't doubt that neither Mallory nor Elliott would fire Benard. On the contrary, they would keep him, at least for the moment. Making him either give up his ways and work hard or resign.
"Excuse me for the delay, Mister Stark," Mallory started to speak, closing the door behind him. "Elliott will join us in a minute, and then we can discuss all the details of our business agreement."
"Take your time, Mister Ashburn. I am not in a hurry, especially now, that I know my family's companies are in yours and Mister Spellmann's competent hands," Alastair gave the young lawyer a warm smile.
"Over the next few hours, Elliott and I will reorganize everything. Leaving other cases and clients to our experienced co-workers. This way, we can dedicate all our time to Bloom Enterprises and Stark, Inc."
Alastair smiled again, letting out a small, barely audible sigh. "Your parents must be very proud of you, Mister Ashburn. I know I would be if I'd had a son like you."
"Well, I guess they are, although they've never told me, and I never asked." Mallory's tone was as professional as minutes before. His look didn't betray any emotion, but Alastair knew he hit a sensitive spot.
"Excuse me, I had some things to care of," Elliott entered the office. "However, I managed to reschedule some of our prior engagements, and I called the respective clients to explain the newly created situation. Surprisingly, they were very understanding. I also..."
"Elliott, calm down, you have plenty of time to take care of everything and a lot of people willing to help you with whatever you may need. Miss Gloria, for instance..." Mallory was abruptly interrupted when the very woman he mentioned came into the office, after softly knocking two times.
"Today is not a good day for me. I seem to barge in at the worst moments, interrupting something important every time. However, a Mister Eugene Boormann asks to speak with one of the associates and, since both of you are here..."
"Eugene Boormann? Doesn't he have an entire army of lawyers representing him and the media corporations he owns?" Elliott asked, a little surprised.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," Mallory replied. "Send him in, Gloria."
When Eugene Boormann stepped inside the office, the only man who didn't react to his presence was Alastair. Mallory's eyes widened in surprise, and Elliott was petrified, because, only a few feet away from him, stood the man who’d promised to protect him and chase away his demons and fears.
He was the man who'd treated him with so much care and tenderness. The one who Elliott wanted so desperately to trust was nothing but a huge lie. Eugene Brentano never existed, he was just a figment of his screwed up mind. Just another myth he invented to escape the pain of a tormented past.
**********
The black sports car pulled up across the street from The Gambit, Colin Rafferty's bar. The two men inside it carefully inspected their surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least at first look. It was the traditionally Irish neighborhood, with solid-built brick houses. There were white picket fences and flower beds in the front yards. After making sure that no danger was present, the two got out of the car.
Through the bar's window, Rafferty saw the men getting closer and suspected they were there to see him. Judging by the clothes they wore and the expensive car parked across the street, they didn't belong to his usual clientele. That was composed mainly of working-class men, who came to enjoy a drink or two once they finished for the day.
When the two stepped inside, Colin took a better look at them — wondering what someone like they were doing in a place like this. The raven-haired man, with his solid built and stern look, had most likely a military or law enforcement-related job. It was the blond kid the one who got Rafferty's attention, with his pale skin, sky-blue, and tired eyes marked by dark, heavy bags.
”What can I get you to drink?” Colin asked, motioning with his head to the dark-haired man. ”Only water or juice for him, since he is not twenty-one yet,” he continued, making the same movement toward the blond, who smiled and blushed, lowering his head.
"Two orange juices, please! I don't drink alcohol either. Sorry for disappointing you on that one, Mister Rafferty. Oh, by the way, my name is Daniel Bloom," the black-haired said extending his hand.
"Tarquin Bloom-Ballard," the blond spoke in a soft voice, then smiled. "I am his husband," he pointed to the man next to him.
"Nice to meet you, gentlemen," Colin shook their hands. While shaking the blond's hand, he noticed them: dark, big bruises all around the kid's wrists. Most likely caused by the brute standing next to him. Sebastian's wrists had been bruised, almost all the time also, and, like this poor blond kid, he had no one to turn to.
"Is something wrong, Mister Rafferty?" the blond asked worriedly, a troubled look in his beautiful, blue eyes. He made a sudden move, exposing his bruised neck.
”Do you need help, son?” Colin asked him as gently as he could, wanting to hug the fragile boy, taking all his pain away.
"Yes, I do. In fact, we both need help. You see, we are friends with Arnett, and he said you have something of his, a list he gave you."
Rafferty gave Tarquin a look full of regret. "Look, son, it's not that I don't trust you, it's the abusive bastard standing next to you." The man gritted his teeth, barely managing to control his anger.
All the time his husband spoke with the bar owner, Daniel studied the man. In his middle to late forties, he had gray hair and heavy stubble, also gray. Rafferty's dark blue eyes had a somehow tired and resigned expression, but Daniel guessed that it was just a facade. Underneath it, he suspected, it was passion and the will to fight to the bitter end for something he believed in.
But what intrigued the young Bloom the most was the way Rafferty spoke. Unlike most of the Irish residents from Windsor Terrace, he didn't have the harsh, specific accent and singsong voice. Instead, the man spoke like a highly educated person, reminding Daniel very much of his uncles Fabian and Alastair.
There was a way to solve the mystery that surrounded Colin Rafferty, so Tarquin's husband discreetly took the phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Darien. Their expert linguist would establish the man's origin based on his conversation with the blond that they broadcasted live.
Sipping from his orange juice, Tarquin chose to ignore Colin's remark about his husband being abusive. "The Gambit. Quite an interesting name for a bar, Mister Rafferty. You must be very fond of playing chess," he smiled shyly.
"Yes, I am. What about you, son? Who named you after that cruel, depraved Roman king?" Rafferty instinctively knew that there wa
s something special about the blond kid. He knew much more than he let others see. Sebastian was the same, but they almost crushed his spirit. Almost.
"My revered grandmother named my father that, and being the only child, I was named after him," the blond whispered, saddened. "Well, since you can't help us, Mister Rafferty, it's time for us to go. Sorry for wasting your time, and don't worry about Arnett. Sure, he will be disappointed, but Daniel will explain everything to him. My husband is very good with kids, Mister Rafferty."
"Come, my angel, I am sure we can find our way out," the raven-haired men said, taking one of the blond's hands and kissing it. "Have a good day, mister, and thanks for nothing," he turned to the bar owner.
Just when the two were about to step out, a sleek black car appeared from around the corner, heading to The Gambit. Colin sensed the danger, and bent down under the counter, taking his gun from its secret hiding place, ready to defend his own life and those of his unexpected clients.
Meantime, the two visitors were on the ground, the black-haired man aiming at the occupants of the car, who started to shoot round after round through the bar's large windows, which turned into a million shards in a matter of seconds. The blond typed on his phone, probably messaging someone for help, although Rafferty didn't understand why the kid didn't call 911.
Suddenly, the car started to lose control, doing flip-flops in the air. Somehow, two of the men inside managed to escape unharmed, before the vehicle turned into a mass of contorted metal surrounded by flames. The two gunmen followed a third, younger, armed, redhead man, who intended to use the bar as a shelter. Just when he got inside, one of the hit-men fired, but the bullet grazed the black-haired man's shoulder instead.
”Shit, Daniel, why the hell did you do that?! I had the situation under control, the guys were already dead!” the redhead started to yell, but Rafferty could see how terrified he was.
The blond let out a long sigh. "You just can't stay out of trouble, Daniel Bloom, can you?" Then, tearing his shirt, he used it as gauze to wrap around his husband's shoulder. Not before inspecting it thoroughly though. "It is superficial, you are lucky," he said in a shaky voice.
Daniel looked at his husband, wrapped his uninjured hand around his waist, pulling him into a tight, passionate embrace. "Did you already forget what I promised you when we got married? I will always be there to protect you and our children." Then, he pressed a heated kiss on the man's lips.
”Thank you, cousin, for saving my sorry ass again,” Liam said, giving Daniel a warm, but not so tight hug, afraid to hurt his shoulder even more.
Meanwhile, Rafferty was busying chasing and catching the surviving gunman. It was pretty easy, as the redhead had shot him in the right leg, and the man was bleeding pretty badly. Using the rope he collected from under the counter, the bar owner tied the gunman's hands behind his back, dragging him inside the bar. There, he threw him in a corner, waiting for the three men to decide his fate.
All the time when the bar was under fire, Daniel, as the other two had called the black-haired man, didn't lose control for a single second — always anticipating their adversaries next move, always focused on protecting the others, Colin included. Still, this didn't qualify him as trustworthy in Rafferty's eyes.
On the other hand, the way he spoke to the blond, kissing his hand, embracing and holding him close...Sebastian's abuser never did those things, but Vincent did. He was the one in whose arms the scared, lonely, brokenhearted kid always found consolation.
Colin closed his eyes, in a desperate attempt to block the images of a past that wasn’t his. As always, he would do the right thing, and get Arnett out of the way of danger. His dreams of Sebastian must have been a warning that something would go wrong and someone would have to suffer.
"So, Mister Rafferty, I take it there's nothing I could do to make you change your mind and hand us Arnett's list?" Daniel asked respectfully.
"No, young man, you're right, I am not going to change my mind. More than that, I don't think you are fit to take care of Arnett, so I'm going to bring him here, to live with me."
"This is a matter you'll have to settle with Mister Grant, the boy's ward. But moving out from my home won't do him any good, because..."
"So, you are saying I should let you put bruises on him as you do with your husband, who hides behind a smile? Not in a million years, boy!" Rafferty said, spitting the last word.
Daniel managed to keep his simmering anger under control. He took his wallet and, extracting one of Vincent's business cards, put it on the counter. "Have a good day, sir," he said, collecting the prisoner from where they'd dropped him.
Later that evening, after replacing the window and cleaning the mess, Colin was getting ready to welcome his guests, when he saw the silhouette of a man trying to sneak unnoticed, sliding along the wall. The predator Rafferty was stepped into the light, pinning the man, hands above his head.
The big, green-brown, soulful eyes stared into Colin's dark blue-ones, making him lose his composure and judgment. He cupped the man's face, capturing his lips in a sensual, heated but slow kiss. Strangely enough, the captive responded with the same passion, Soon both of them were sucked into a whirlwind of delightful, intense pleasure.
Breaking the kiss for a much-needed breath of air, Rafferty took a better look at the man, and he liked what he saw. "I'm Colin," he said simply.
"I'm Vincent," the other answered.
CHAPTER 15
Daniel stepped inside The Gambit, looking for the owner, who was not in sight. Two weeks had passed since his visit there — two weeks since his life went downhill, since he lost Tarquin. Of course, physically, the blond was still there. Although with every day that passed he got weaker and skinnier. Daniel dreaded the day when he would come home from work to find a dead body instead of his dear, so full of life husband.
The raven-haired man balled his hands into fists, plopping down on a stool at the bar, head down, shoulders slumped. He recalled memories from when he and Tarquin were a happy couple — raising their kids together, doing things together, having tons of fun. That was until Antonia Ballard happened.
"Isn't it a little early to have a drink? Why are you not at home, or in the park, with your wife and kids? What could go so wrong in your life to make you want to find consolation at the bottom of a bottle?" Colin gently spoke, feeling sympathy for the seemingly young customer who sat there, at the bar, looking so defeated.
"Everything goes wrong, Mister Rafferty, every fucking thing. I would love to be at home with my three boys and... It's just that..." Daniel stopped, unable to continue.
"Wait a minute, aren't you the one who came with the blond boy, some time ago? Arnett's little friend's brother? As you see, I fixed the windows, so everything is like before," Colin started talking, hoping that he could cheer up the young man, even if only for a bit.
"Yeah, that's me," Daniel sighed. "I'm glad that, at least, the bar is like before, because my life isn't the same. Tell me, Mister Rafferty, have you ever wished you could turn back time? Undo what you'd done, make the wrong right again?"
"What's wrong, my boy? You can talk to me if you want to. It would be better than keeping everything inside." Suddenly, the bar owner realized. "It's the blond kid, your husband, isn't it? What's wrong with him?" Colin's heart wrenched in pain, expecting the worst.
"I've lost him, sir. The love of my life is no more with me. He let it go without a fight. I shouldn't have left him alone with that bitch. I should have been there, by his side, but..." Daniel stopped, staring blankly into space.
Colin looked at the man in front of him, finding it hard to believe he was the same man from two weeks before. He could relate to the pain in those dark blue, almost black eyes with the emptiness in the man's soul. There was a feeling so painfully familiar, so intense, just like three decades earlier, when Sebastian had to give up on his only love, to save the man's life.
"Listen to me carefully, Daniel. I know you probably won't believe me right
now, but things will get better, eventually as long as your loved one is still alive, in body at least. You’ll have to fight for him. Do everything you can to bring him back, do you hear me? It's not over until it's over."
"Maybe, just maybe, there's still some hope left. There's still a way to get Tarquin out of his actual state of mind. However, I would need your help, and I don't know if you would be so willing to give it to me, once..."
"What do you need me to do?" Colin interrupted Daniel. "Just name it, whatever it is." He looked into the young man's dark blue eyes, a reflection of his own.
"I need the list Arnett gave you," the answer came right away. "Before everything went wrong, Tarquin thought that list was significant to someone. So important, they wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it takes to get their hands on it."