by Wolfe, H. M.
"Let me go get it, although I don't know why the kid thought it's so important. I've seen a lot of weird things in my life, but this one... Honestly, I can't imagine why someone would want to kill for it," Colin said, shrugging. "Just wait a minute."
While he was in the back, most likely to bring the list, Daniel looked around the room, searching every inch of it with evident curiosity. The Gambit was nothing special, just another pub where folks in the neighborhood gathered and enjoyed a glass or two of their favorite drinks.
However, judging by how spotless clean, neatly arranged and strictly organized everything was, Daniel doubted it very much. With Tarquin's depression and everything, he had forgotten to ask Darien about the conversation he had recorded two weeks earlier. The kid also hadn't mentioned anything about it.
One of the items, displayed on a small, cushioned panel, drew Daniel's attention. It was a piece of ribbon with a gold medal attached to it. Getting closer, he started to examine the object up close. He noted its every detail. The badge featured an eagle, wings spread, holding a sword in its claws, laying on a pedestal of some sorts. Encompassing, the eagle, there were three words. EFFICIENCY. HONOR. FIDELITY.
The medal seemed vaguely familiar to Daniel. Although he couldn't remember precisely where he’d seen it, as quickly as he could, the black-haired man took a photo of the medal. He then sent it via a message, praying that the receiver would answer. To his immense surprise, the response came after less than a minute. The information in the message, making Daniel gasp.
"Here it is, son, sorry it took so long, but I couldn't remember where I'd put the damn thing. Take a look, but I doubt you will understand any of it."
The young Bloom smiled weakly. "No problem, I took advantage of the time alone to sort some things out at work. Let me see it," he gestured to the piece of paper in Colin's hand.
With an enigmatic smile, the bar owner put the folded list in Daniel's hand, waiting for his reaction. Indeed, the raven-haired man thought frustrated, as he stared at the paper in his hand. The God damn thing didn't make sense. Short or long lines of letters and numbers, in combinations or separated, covered an entire page.
Daniel's face suddenly lit up with a smile that reached his eyes. "You're right, Mister Rafferty. I don't know what all this means, but someone else does, and he will solve this mystery."
"I am glad to hear that, son. Anyone who could find some sense in that has all my respect and admiration," Colin returned the smile.
"Well, sir, I guess I should be on my way, it's time to bring my husband back," Daniel said, heading to the door. "Have a nice day and thank you for everything."
Left alone, Rafferty started to polish the already clean counter. His mind was wandering to random places. Thoughts of the young, raven-haired man invaded his mind. They made him question his judgment of two weeks earlier. Then, he had labeled Daniel as an abusive husband. One who didn't hesitate to raise a heavy hand to the blond, bruising his body and soul.
But an abuser couldn't look so devastated as the young man did less than an hour earlier. A psycho couldn't relate to his victim's pain and fear, Colin thought. He knew what it was like to be one of those targeted, he experienced it through Sebastian's eyes. No, Daniel wasn't like that, he was like Vincent.
When his thoughts reached that point, Colin's breath started to hitch. He recalled the meeting with the other Vincent, The heated kiss the two of them had shared. No, it wasn't just a kiss. It was something truly magical, as their souls got so close, merging, becoming one.
For Colin, it was like he found his long-lost soulmate after being brutally separated from him. But the man never returned, leaving the void in the bar owner's soul unfilled, and his heart aching for a love he knew was not possible. Vincent was the man of Colin's dreams because that was the only place the two of them could meet.
**********
Daniel entered the house, already dreading the silence surrounding it over the past two weeks. The kids, Hayden and Arnett included, were rarely around. Eugene had offered to take them to his place, so he and Tarquin could have privacy and time alone. Sure, Daniel went there several times a day, spent quality time with all the boys, but it wasn't the same.
The twins kept asking about their daddy, if he had gotten better yet. When could they go back, why he never visited them and so on. For Gabriel, who had a special relationship with Tarquin and was also older and more mature, the whole situation was twice as hard as it was for the twins.
From the grand foyer, Daniel intended to head directly upstairs, take a shower, then cuddle with his husband, trying to comfort him, as he did over the past two weeks. All this time, Tarquin wasn't there. He didn't respond to Daniel's caresses and whispers of love, his eyes empty of any feeling but an immense pain.
Passing by the kitchen, the raven-haired man heard the discreet clatter of dishes and the noise of water running into the sink. He stopped in his tracks, thinking it was unusual for that time of the day. Unless...Heart pounding in his chest, Daniel stepped into the kitchen. There, to his great surprise and joy, he saw a half-naked Tarquin bent over the sink, washing a plate and a glass.
The raven-haired man examined each shape of the body he worshiped, seeing that, in spite of eating very little over the past few weeks, the blond was still in great shape. From where he stood, Daniel couldn't see his husband's expression, but he suspected it wasn't one of sadness. At least, not as overwhelming as the one he was used to.
"Hello, husband," the sound of Tarquin's voice, so lighthearted, startled the young Bloom. "Do you want something to eat? I could fix you some eggs if you want me to," he smiled, wrapping his arms around Daniel and kissing him on the cheek.
"Hello, husband," Daniel replied, hugging the blond tightly and inhaling his sweet scent. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry. Not now, at least", he winked. "I have something for you."
”I wonder what it is,” Tarquin seductively spoke, casting his husband a languid look.
"I went to Windsor Terrace. I met with Mister Rafferty again," Daniel cautiously spoke, studying the blond's expression. "He gave me the list."
"Finally! Where is it? Let me see it," Tarquin's tone grew more and more impatient as he spoke.
"Here it is," Daniel extended the paper to him, "but I'm afraid..."
But the blond didn't wait for his husband to finish. Snatching the list out of the dark-haired man's hand, he started to study it. He frowned and mumbled random words. When Tarquin got to the bottom of the list, he went into the small office, grabbed his laptop and started typing.
"Can you get to the bottom of this?" Daniel asked although he knew the answer in advance.
"I solved the mystery from the start. It was meant to be an encoded list, but whoever coded it either did a superficial job or didn't imagine someone could decipher it."
"And what are you doing now?" As always, Daniel was in awe when it came to his husband's computer skills. He wanted to know more about what he was doing.
"This is a list of bank accounts, and now I can link them to the owners. Done!" Tarquin exclaimed, in a satisfaction-filled voice.
Then, the blond started to run every name on the list through different databases, to see what information he could get on each of them. As the operation progressed, he became more and more frustrated. The answers he hoped to find weren't there, on the contrary, everything became blurred — the leads proving to be nothing more than dead ends.
"That's it. I'm done! We need help here, qualified help," Tarquin huffed frustrated, staring at the laptop's screen.
”By qualified help, you mean...” Daniel tried.
"Someone who knows those people, or at least has another means to find out things about them. For instance, we could use the help of an investigative journalist. Someone very good at this job, like...Charles Swinton!"
"That bastard didn't know anything about what being a real, good journalist means, not to mention he's in prison for raping you. No way in hell, angel!" Daniel said in an ang
ry voice.
"Yes way, mister!" Tarquin replied, fire in his eyes. I'm going to talk to Swinton, and you are coming with me. End of story!"
"My angel, there are a ton of good investigative journalists out there, why would you need the help of that... that..." Daniel stopped, hugging his husband. "Please, don't put yourself through that, not again."
"A rapist. That's what Swinton is. He brutally attacked me, used my body, discarded and blackmailed me. I will not forgive him for what he did to me. Not now! Not ever! But I couldn't sleep well at night knowing that someone else suffered a horrible fate because I was too cowardly or too proud to ask for Swinton's help."
Daniel looked into Tarquin's eyes. He listened to his passionate, convincing voice. He knew there was no other way but to agree with him. As usual, everything the blond said made sense. He was logical even when he was carried away by emotions. Without a word, the raven-haired man nodded, starting to climb the stairs, his husband in tow.
One hour and a few phone calls later, Tarquin parked the car in a somewhat solitary spot near the prison, to Daniel's confusion. Staring intensely into his husband's eyes, the blond straddled his lap, kissing him on the face and neck while feverishly exploring his body with eager hands.
"In the back, undressed," Tarquin commanded huskily, sending little waves of pleasure through Daniel's body. The raven-haired man obeyed without hesitation, waiting for the blond's next move. Getting rid of his clothes, except for his boxer briefs, Tarquin moved into the back seat.
Locking eyes with his husband, he seductively lowered his briefs, releasing his hardness. He then covered his cock with lube from the travel-size tube he always carried, just in case. Positioning them both as comfortable as the confined space of the car allowed, he slowly entered his husband. The two men then started to move in sync, Tarquin pounded mercilessly into Daniel, kissing, caressing, nipping and licking everywhere on his torso and neck, marking him as his own.
Looking gently at his beloved, the blond took his erect cock that begged for attention, stroking him while whispering sweet words of love and praise into his ear. Some hard, long thrusts later, Tarquin spilled his seed inside his husband, letting out a loud, passion-filled moan. Feeling the delicious warmth, Daniel shot his load between them, with a strangled, savage cry.
Panting hard, the blond laid sprawled on the backseat, while his husband tried to catch his breath after the passionate, short, intense lovemaking session. Turning to Tarquin, a sated smile on his face, Daniel planted a shy kiss on his blond angel's pink, sinfully delightful lips.
"What was that?" he asked a spark of amusement in his eyes.
"That was me showing you how much I've missed us making love over these last two weeks," Tarquin answered, a tinge of guilt in his voice. "It won't happen again, I promise."
Daniel hugged him tightly, kissing his forehead. "I love you no matter what. You know that don't you?"
"Yes, I know," the answer came in a whispered voice. "And now, it's time to clean ourselves up, straighten our clothes and pay a visit to Mister Charles Swinton," the blond said with a mischievous smile.
CHAPTER 16
Elliott took another manila folder from the pile in front of him, putting the one he’d just finished going through aside, on top of all the others he was studying. Soon, Mallory would come to take him to lunch, like he always did over the past two weeks, since they’d became associates at the law firm. At least, there was a reason for him to remember that day as a good one.
However, two weeks earlier, the same day Elliott's dream came true, his world crashed down once again. He’d discovered the huge, ugly lie behind what he so naively thought to be a fresh start for him. The man who had told the blond he would protect him at any cost, that he would love and take care of him didn't exist.
Strangely enough, Elliott wasn't affected by the revelation as he thought he would be. The blond behaved most professionally, smiling charmingly and explaining to Mister Boormann why he, or Mallory, couldn't take him as their client. Of course, Elliott recommended Eugene one of the top lawyers working for the office, but it was up to him if he would take the advice or not.
Going home, later that day, the blond still waited for the man who claimed to love him, to appear on the doorstep. He waited for Eugene to explain the entire Brentano-Boormann thing, but that didn't happen. Elliott was torn in two. One half was relieved that he had avoided an unpleasant situation, while the other half was devastated that he was a mere plaything for the man — a distraction, nothing more.
At some point, the blond wanted to talk to Mallory. He wanted to ask for advice, but he gave up that idea. His friend was somehow off. So very different from his calm, focused self. Of course, at work, Mallory was as efficient as always, but once he left the office to go home, the young lawyer didn't pay attention to the conversations around him. Because of that Elliott didn't burden him with his problems.
The blond blamed the stressful environment of his associate's home for the change in Mallory's attitude. Those greedy assholes, his parents and siblings, not knowing he was now one of the two associates in the law firm, were making his life miserable. In spite of this, he still hesitated to take the decisive step and move out of that serpents' nest.
Of course, Elliott still had Christine's shoulder to cry on as he had over the past two years. However, he had started to notice some subtle changes in the young woman and decided not to bother her unnecessarily. Up until then, she hadn't given much attention to things like makeup or hairstyle, considering them frivolous and time-consuming.
Also, Christine had started going out more often, so she wasn't around every time Elliott needed to talk like she was before. The blond suspected the girl had a boyfriend of some sorts because an elegant, silver car pulled off quite often near their home, waiting until Christine left the house.
Strangely enough, Elliott didn't feel neglected by his friends. Somehow he liked not being the center of their attention. The blond was glad they could live their lives and meet new people instead of worrying over him all the time. This way, he could also carry on with his usual routine, without feeling the need to assure them all the time that he was fine.
"Hello, gorgeous, what are you dreaming of? Or who, to be more specific?" Gloria's voice broke the trail of Elliott's thoughts, bringing him back to reality.
"Excuse me, Miss Gloria," the blond lawyer weakly smiled. "I wasn't dreaming about anyone. I was thinking about how much my life has changed over the past fourteen days."
"Whatever you say, boss," the woman grinned knowingly. "Speaking of, Mister Mallory sent me to tell you he won't be able to accompany you to lunch."
”Oh?” Elliott knitted his brows in confusion. ”Is something wrong?”
”No, not at all,” the woman assured him, a note of amusement in her voice. ”He was asked out to lunch, or so he said,” she shrugged, the same knowing grin on her face.
"Who invited Mallory to lunch? I imagine you are in possession of this information, Miss Gloria, aren't you?"
"Of course I am, boss. It's the most important client of the firm, Mister Alastair Stark. A fine, distinguished gentleman, if you ask me."
"You're right, Miss Gloria, Mister Stark is an outstanding person. I’m happy he’s befriended Mallory. Unlike other men his age, this gentleman doesn't use a superior, condescending tone when speaking to us, young folks."
"I noticed it too," Gloria said, tempted to mention to Elliott all the other things she noticed, but she changed her mind. After all, knowing Mallory as she did, the woman was sure he would put a stop to any inappropriate action.
"Well, it looks like I'll be eating by myself today. See you in an hour, Miss Gloria", Elliott smiled, taking his coat and stepping out of the office.
When he started working at the law firm, the blond had discovered a small bistro just across the street and went for lunch there ever since. The food was good, the place had a cozy, homey feel and it wasn't too peopley, either.
When he w
as getting ready to cross the street, Elliott felt someone grab his arm with claw-like fingers, squeezing it so hard, that the young lawyer was sure the spot would bruise almost instantly. Wincing, the blond tried freeing himself from the predatory grasp that held him so tight.
"Not so fast, dumb-head!" the aggressor hissed in Elliott's ear. "Long time no see, whore! Didn't you miss me at all?"
The blond froze on the spot. The voice, the words...No matter how hard he tried to escape his past, it kept coming after him. It kept hunting him down, pulling him under. "Carter," Elliott whispered, barely audible.
The man elbowed him in the side. "So, you do remember me. You aren't so stupid after all. Move, bitch!"
"Where are you taking me?" The blond didn't feel fear, horror or anything like that. Somewhere deep inside, he’d known one day he would run out of luck, it was just a question of time.