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by Dawn Kimberly Johnson

  “Yes, a big, beautiful boy,” Dray said. “Just like me.” He turned slightly away from Eli. “But he only seems interested in figuring me out.” He looked back suddenly. “Did he tell you that? He asked me up to his place to analyze me? To understand why I was so fucked up?” Dray stared into Eli’s eyes. “There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. Me!”

  Eli grinned. “You keep telling yourself that.” He turned away from Dray. “Now, if you’d be so—ah fuck it! Dray, get out of my room!”

  Dray caught his arm and jerked him back around to face him. “They both chose you over me. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t.” Eli smiled. “The truth is, for the longest time, I didn’t understand it either, but there it is.”

  “There what is?” Dray asked, downing the rest of his drink.

  “I offered them something more than a quick shag. I loved them.”

  The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, Eli unable to read Dray’s changing expressions. Suddenly Dray grabbed him and kissed him. Eli was too stunned to react at first but then broke free in sputtering disgust.

  “Are you out of your bloody mind?!” he asked, wiping his mouth.

  Dray chuckled. “Come on, Eli. We had fun once. There’s no one around. We could again.”

  “You nutter. What happened before was the worst mistake of my life! And…,” Eli said, beginning to laugh, “you are the last man on this planet I want in my bed. You’re just too drunk and self-absorbed right now to notice.” He went to the door and pulled it open, but Dray reached around him and slammed it shut.

  “You’re laughing at me now?”

  “How can I not?” Eli reached for the doorknob again. “Get out, get sober, and I promise never to bring this up again.” He opened the door again, and Dray slammed it shut again, this time stepping into Eli and pressing him back against the door with his own body. Oh, this is pathetic. “What are you—?”

  “Shut it!” Dray threw down his glass, and Eli flinched as Dray began to feel him up, exploring his body as he kissed Eli’s neck and ground against him. He put up with it, standing there, arms at his sides, waiting for the drunken idiot to realize he wasn’t working him into some wanton sexual froth. “You remember how good it was with us that first time, right?” Dray asked, his breath steaming up Eli’s disinterested ear.

  “Not really.” He looked Dray in the eye. “I was drunk, remember?”

  Dray growled low in his throat and punched the door right next to Eli’s head, denting it. Eli gulped as he looked at the damage and then into Dray’s rage-filled eyes. That, he recognized. He felt fear-fueled iciness run over the surface of his skin as Dray pressed him harder against the door. Eli could feel him, rock hard and huge against his thigh.

  “Let me remind you,” Dray said, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him to the floor by the bed.

  As Eli struggled to his feet, he saw Dray lock the door. He did remember that night. If he hadn’t been ready, sufficiently drunk and relaxed, Dray would have really hurt him. He also remembered their fucking had begun gently and become rather rough, the way Dray liked it. Now his mouth was dry with fear, and he hated feeling afraid—afraid and not strong enough, like he had in that alley years ago.

  He eyed the door behind Dray, and he knew he wouldn’t be heard above the music that pounded through his walls. As Dray approached him, Eli back away and braced himself, squaring his stance and repeating put him down, put him down over and over in his head as he searched for Dray’s soft spot—although he really didn’t appear to have one. Dray came at him, and Eli slammed the head of his cane into Dray’s gut, just below his ribs.

  WHEN he came to, he was shirtless… in his bed… a weight on top of him. Dray was biting his neck, pressing him into the mattress, and massaging his cock through his pants. Eli moaned and tried to squirm free as his head swam and throbbed. Dray’s looked at him and smiled.

  “There you are, Erby,” he chuckled. “Thought I’d killed you.”

  “Yet you’re still trying to fuck me… charming.” Eli tasted blood, and his lip was swollen.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, but you did hit me first.”

  Eli tested his jaw to see if it was still hanging properly, and Dray began unhooking Eli’s belt.

  “Hang on! Stop it, Dray!” He tried to stall Dray’s busy hands with his own.

  “Now, Erby, just relax. I’m not angry anymore. I’ll be gentle.”

  “Get off!”

  “I’m trying to,” Dray chuckled.

  He shoved on Dray’s massive shoulders with all he had, but the behemoth wouldn’t budge.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  “How’d you know?” Dray asked.

  Eli punched him in the face, and Dray’s head snapped right. He hadn’t expected that. Angry again, he captured Eli’s hands and pinned both above his head with only one of his, then he kissed him as he slid his other hand across Eli’s chest and down his front. Eli turned away from him, sucking air past his teeth as Dray took hold of his cock.

  “St-stop it.”

  Dray didn’t. He began to stroke Eli slowly while watching his face. Dray smiled as Eli began to respond, despite his best efforts to resist.

  “There we go. That’s more like it, Erby.”

  “You sick, twisted s-sack of shite!”

  Dray laughed.

  “Why such venom? I’m not such a bad bloke.” He was back to solicitous, charming Dray. “Haven’t I been careful with your bad leg?” he asked in a singsong, light voice. “Last time we did this, you weren’t crippled.” Dray smiled. “I’ve never fucked a gimp before.”

  Eli’s heart began to race. He felt like he couldn’t fill his lungs, and he looked around for something within his reach that—if his hands were free—he could use to get Dray off of him. He glanced down beside the bed and saw his cane, the one Alec had given him, lying in two pieces on the floor. Eli cried out and began to struggle again, but his hands were still pinned, and he couldn’t lift Dray with his legs alone. It was like trying to wriggle free of a boulder.

  “If you wanted me all this time, w-why go after Bennett and Alec?” Eli asked.

  Dray laughed out loud. “I never wanted you, you little fuck!” He squeezed Eli’s cock until tears came to his eyes. “I wanted Bennett, and you were in the way. I want Alec, and here you are in the way again. I never wanted you, Eli. I hate you!”

  They locked eyes and fell silent. The only sound was Eli’s panting and the thumping music spilling through the walls. Then someone knocked on the door. Eli opened his mouth to shout, but Dray grabbed him by the throat and squeezed until he couldn’t make a sound. His hands free, Eli pushed against Dray, his face, his chest, but he still wouldn’t budge. Dray was listening for another knock. Eli punched him in the face again, and suddenly Eli could barely breathe.

  “You hit me again, Erby, and I’ll snap your fucking neck!” Dray hissed, then he tentatively licked a bit of blood from his own lip.

  “Eli?” Alec! Eli struggled harder to free himself and shout, but Dray’s hand tightened around his throat, and the room began to grow dark. “Eli, I’ve been thinking about you all day.” The doorknob turned uselessly. “Can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

  Dray was waiting and listening so intently that he didn’t notice Eli’s struggles had stopped. He loosened his grip, and Eli coughed and sputtered back to consciousness.

  “Oops, sorry about that, Erby,” Dray said, laughing.

  “A CACKLING group of your friends told me I should ‘find you’, and I’m betting you’re in there,” Alec said. When there was still no answer from within, he rested his head against the door and closed his eyes. “Fuck! Where are you?”

  He glanced at the stairs, but decided Eli wouldn’t try that, especially not if he’d been drinking. Alec looked down the hall and into the kitchen, thinking maybe he had moved through there and out onto the deck. This hide-and-seek was going to be the death of him. He walke
d away, entering the kitchen.

  “Did Eli come through here?”

  “No luck yet?” Casey asked. She had Ilsa pressed up against the sink.

  Alec shook his head. “I tried his bedroom, but the door’s locked.”

  Ilsa laughed and pried herself free of Casey, leaning over to the side of the refrigerator. “I’ve got an extra key here somewhere,” she said, fiddling with a magnetic key rack. “Let’s see, backdoor, bedrooms: four, three, two, and—here you go.” Ilsa handed Alec the key. “He’s probably just playing games. Go get your man.”

  ELI winced as tears of anger and frustration spilled from his eyes. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop Dray, just like when he was facedown in that alley so long ago and unable to help Bennett… helpless. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t want to give Dray the satisfaction.

  “When I get free, Dray, I’m going to kill you,” he rasped.

  “You’re welcome to try, Erby. Now—come for Daddy.”

  THE door opened, and Alec stood there, transfixed long enough to see the broken cane on the floor, Dray’s glass on its side by the bureau, and Eli’s swollen face. His body went rigid as he realized what was going on. He moved toward them with images filling his head of the shovel in the cellar and the freshly turned earth in the back garden. He knew just where to put Dray after he’d beaten him to death. He grabbed him by the back of his belt and lifted him off Eli with one hand, throwing him to the floor.

  Dray scooted away from him as he advanced. “Now, Alec, you don’t want any of this, love.”

  “Never have. Never will,” Alec said, continuing forward.

  “I’m just saying,” Dray said, getting to his feet, still amused. “I’m a lot bigger than you.”

  Chapter 35

  ILSA, Casey, Bishop, and Keith stood chatting around the kitchen island, but their conversation stalled when they heard a crash. Even above the music, they could tell something was very wrong. They listened… waited… and were rewarded with another thump and crash. Following the sound, Ilsa slowly walked around the island and headed for the hall, the other three in her wake. As she neared Eli’s bedroom door, there was another thump, and the pictures lining the hallway rattled on the wall. The three of them looked at each other and recoiled in unison as a crack appeared in Eli’s door.

  The door was yanked open, and they watched Dray Jenkins seemingly fly through the air, his shiny, black, bald head cracking two railings in the staircase banister before he landed on his ass on the hardwood floor,.

  “Size doesn’t always matter,” Alec said, stepping into the hall and grabbing Dray by the collar, “not when one man intends to kill the other.”

  That was it. The K word. Keith sprang into action, grabbing Alec and pinning his arms behind his back before he could land another blow. He quickly twisted Alec and pressed his face against the wall. Casey ran to the back door and shouted to Lyle and Tony. The artist stood up so quickly, he almost tossed Lyle off his lap and onto the deck. Lincoln and Mickey stopped kissing and decided to follow the commotion instead.

  As Tony passed the dining room, he spotted Mirabell slow-dancing with Buddy and shouted for her to follow them, which she did after shutting off the music. Unfortunately, this created a bottleneck at the kitchen door, and not everyone could see what was going on in the hall. Suddenly Mirabell appeared above them all as Buddy lifted her in his arms. She gave him a blow-by-blow account of what she saw.

  At the front of the group, Ilsa stood, her mouth agape. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Alec so angry. As she looked around, she wondered what Dray could have done.

  “Hang on! Where’s Eli?!”

  Eli answered her question by coming out of his room swinging his old, battered, metal cane like a baseball bat aimed directly at Dray’s skull. The man ducked just in time, and it simply splintered another banister railing.

  “Eli!” Ilsa shouted, stepping between them and raising her hands.

  “Move, Ilsa!” Eli said. “He wouldn’t let me go! He wouldn’t stop! I couldn’t breathe!” He raised the cane again. “I couldn’t move!”

  Ilsa looked into Eli’s eyes and saw tears there—not tears of sadness and fear like following a nightmare of Bennett’s murder—but tears of murderous fury. Before he could get his second swing going, however, Bishop caught hold of the cane. Happily, no one had hold of Ilsa. She rounded on Dray, who had finally struggled to his feet, and kneed him in the crotch. His lungs seized up, and he dropped back to his knees, clutching himself.

  “You filthy son of a bitch! You ever come near Alec or Eli again, I’ll chop you into a stew!”

  Other partygoers had started filtering in from the living room, and all eyes were on Dray as he fought to catch his breath and get up. He clutched blindly at the railings on the stairs for assistance, but he kept grasping broken ones. Finally he found a solid one and hauled himself to his feet. He tried to smile, but it seemed to have lost some wattage.

  “Eli and I were just having a little alone time,” he said lightly but with a grimace.

  Eli howled and tried to get around Bishop, but he held him off. They vanished back into the bedroom, and the crowd in the hall heard things smashing above Bishop’s calming voice.

  “Let me go!” Alec shouted to Keith. “Let me go!”

  “You have to promise not to go after him again,” Keith said.

  “Wait… uh, let me just head out before you…” Dray said, heading for the door. Tony and Lyle dashed into the dining room, heading for the living room.

  “What’s going on out there?” Shana shouted as they passed.

  Tony turned, but he didn’t stop moving. Bumping into curious guests as he walked backward, he said, “Dray attacked Eli, and he’s trying to leave.” The two men stepped into the hallway, blocking Dray’s exit, then Shana strolled up and took a position behind them.

  “Not likely,” Tony said.

  “You’re staying put, mate,” Lyle added, “until the coppers tell us otherwise.”

  “I’m good, Keith. I won’t touch him,” Alec said, his speech a bit mangled as his face pressed into the wall. “I just need to get to Eli. Please.” Keith released him, and Alec tossed Dray a final glare before entering the bedroom and tapping Bishop on the shoulder. “I got this,” he said.

  The young solicitor stepped out of the room, and Alec closed the door. Eli’s rage-filled voice continued, occasionally punctuated by something smashing and the guests flinching when further breakage occurred. Dray himself flinched when the bedroom door rattled under a fresh onslaught from Eli.

  Ilsa stared at the door and prayed Alec was all right.

  “Okay, people, I think this party is over,” she said, clapping her hands in front of her. “Thank you for coming.”

  The guests snapped to, gathering their belongings and rushing out the door. Conley paused on his way out. Dray looked at him in search of sympathy, working his swollen eye and split lip for all they were worth, but he was greeted with, “You sick fuck.” Then Conley was gone.

  Mirabell paused in the doorway while Buddy helped her into a bright orange jacket. “Tell Alec to call me if he needs me.” Ilsa nodded, smiled, and waved goodnight.

  Tony and Lyle hovered near Eli’s bedroom door, listening, while Keith and Bishop dragged Dray into the living room and deposited him onto the sofa.

  “How long am I going to have to wait here?” Dray asked.

  “Until Eli decides if he wants to press charges,” Bishop said.

  “He won’t. The authorities won’t give a shit about this,” Dray said with a smile. “They don’t care if we kill each other off.”

  Keith stepped forward. “I assure you, Jenkins, the coppers at my station give a shit.”

  Dray smiled more brightly, spit blood onto the floor, and shook his head. “They’ll just call it a lover’s spat, and I’m not saying different.” He sighed, looking them in the eye. “Me and Eli, we’ve got history. I’ve shagged him before. He won’t deny it.” Dray shrugged. “A
nd even if he does? It’s his word again mine—”

  “And ours,” Casey said walking into the living room and wishing him dead with her eyes.

  “And mine,” Mickey said, stepping into view. Dray’s eyes widened, but he recovered.

  “Who the hell are you, mate?”

  “Who the hell am—?”

  Mickey rushed forward, leaping onto Dray and pounding him about the head.

  “Michael!” Lincoln shouted, taking hold of him and trying to pull him off Dray.

  Mickey fought him desperately. “No! No! Let me… he… he did it!”

  Lincoln pulled Mickey into his arms despite his struggles. “He did what?” Lincoln grabbed the sides of Mickey’s head and forced him to look him in the eye. “Mickey?”

  “All right! That’s it!” Dray shouted, wiping his bloody face. “He broke my fucking nose!”

  “Shut it!” Keith shouted at Dray, quickly turning to watch Lincoln and Mickey closely.

  “No! You coppers can’t just hold me here like this, not and let every nutter have a go at me!”

  Mickey kept trying to turn his head toward Dray, his eyes darting to the right repeatedly until they settled on Lincoln.

  “He… he’s the one who hurt m-me,” he said softly, and then he began to cry silently. Lincoln embraced him, all the while looking at Dray like he wanted his turn at him.

  “Bishop?” Keith said.

  “Got it,” Bishop answered, tossing his cell to Keith. He hit speed-dial. “I need transport for a suspect,” he said, walking briefly into the hall to finish his call. Shana took his place, arms folded across her chest like some Amazon warrior, while Lori waited for her by the door in silent admiration.

  Ilsa turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

  “Wh-where are you going?” Casey asked.

  “To get my butcher knife and put on a big pot to boil.”

  Casey turned back to Dray and smiled. “I’ll help,” she said.