by Ruby Moone
He tried to speak, but Finlay passed his arm to someone else to hold and crouched beside him. He made a shushing noise.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
He yanked his shirt up and probed at the tender spot on his stomach and panic fluttered in his throat.
He wanted to let Daniel know. Would he care?
The sound of sirens made him look up. Finlay was still talking to him. Stroking his head, holding his face. He tried to listen and respond but couldn’t. He opened his mouth to say thank you, but nothing happened.
Finlay was shouting again and twisted the thing on his arm.
The panic bloomed through every part of him. Was he dying? Where was Daniel?
11
Daniel eyed the innocent-looking ball of fur on the countertop.
“You can’t be with me every second.”
She meowed pitifully and pushed her head against his arm. He sighed and scooped her up. “Well, you’ll have to sleep in your basket. I’ve work to do.” He headed for the study and put her in the soft basket by the window where it was sunny and warm. When she seemed to settle down, he sat behind the desk, and pulled up the proposals for a project he’d been considering. He’d been working for some time, and had pretty much forgotten the cat’s presence, when she scared the shit out of him by jumping up on the desk. She walked carefully on the tiny space between his keyboard and the edge of the desk, tale plumed, and looked at him.
“Hi.”
She reached out towards him, moving her face close to his, so he scratched her ear. She was purring. It made him smile. “Are you bored now, huh?” He moved his face nearer, and she rubbed against him. He allowed it for a moment then sat back. She was a funny little thing. He scratched her ear again. She put her backside on his keyboard, leaned her head and paws on his arm and set up a purring rumble.
“Um, this isn’t the best spot, Mavis,” he said trying to move his arm, but she just flexed her claws.
He stood and picked her up. She purred and rubbed against him. “You’re no good for my productivity.” He stroked her head. Her eyes closed, she purred more, and headbutted him. It was quite nice. He’d never had a pet. Never dared after his first attempt. So now here he was, at the tender age of thirty-three, with his first pet. A rescue cat called Mavis, and he was smitten.
His phone rang, so he put her back in the basket and pulled it from his pocket.
It was Asher Malek. He and Asher had worked together for years. One of the few people he really trusted. Asher tended to deal with the more…sensitive parts of the company.
“Yeah?”
“There’s been an incident.”
“What kind.”
There was an infinitesimal pause. “Christian. Knife attack. He’s been taken to Manchester Royal.”
Ice flooded his system. Everything stopped.
He forced himself to ask, “Is he dead?”
His heartbeat felt slow. Thudding loud, but slow.
“No. Stabbed in the gut and arm.” He paused. “Nicked his brachial artery. He’s lost a lot of blood. Fortunately, someone with some emergency knowledge managed to stem some of the bleeding, but…it’s not good.”
“Thanks.”
“Want me to drive you?”
“No.” He was already shoving his feet in shoes and grabbing his wallet and keys. “Find Bryce. Find him, and fucking end him.”
12
The bleeping noise was annoying. His head hurt, everything hurt, and all he could do was listen to the damned bleeping. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t work. When he tried to move his head something pulled his nose, and if he tried to move anything else, it was so painful he had to stop. Why wasn’t there anyone with him? He fretted for a while, but it was useless.
So, he drifted.
When he next roused enough to be annoyed by the bleeping someone was holding his hand. Thank God. He wasn’t alone. It was a large, warm hand. A voice rumbled by his ear. It was deep and comforting. Familiar. Warm. He tried to reply but couldn’t, so he just listened. When he drifted again, he felt better about it. Not so alone.
The bleeping was really starting to piss him off. It was loud. Insistent. And there were voices. Loud fucking voices. He swallowed and his throat felt raw. It made him cough. He tried to open his eyes, and this time it worked.
Fucking hell. He peered and blinked through the fog at the people standing by his bed. His mother, Michael, and Daniel.
“Jeez,” he wheezed. “Am I dying?” He’d never imagined his mother and Daniel willingly in the same space.
Daniel’s eyes went wide. He looked awful. His eyes were red rimmed, he’d not shaved, and he looked pale and weary. He came forward in a rush and took hold of his hand.
“Hey,” he whispered, and leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead. That was when Christian knew something was really, badly wrong. “Laura, get the nurse.”
Christian expected his mother to baulk at his tone, and the use of her first name, but she sped from the room like she was being chased.
“What the fuck…”
“Shh.” Daniel was stroking his hair. “Shh.” He kissed him on the forehead again, lingering this time. “Let the nurses look at you before you talk.”
“I’m okay, I want…” But then he started coughing, and that pulled madly on all the tubes making him yelp and cough even more.
Nurses bustled into the room, shooing out his mother, Michael, and Daniel, and he lay back while they checked everything and talked over his head. He closed his eyes and let it all drift over him. He’d ask questions eventually, but now, now he wanted to go back to that quiet place and wonder why Daniel McCafferty was holding his hand and kissing his head like everything was okay between them. He wondered if he’d gone back in time. Maybe his life had all been a dream. Just like in that old Dallas programme his mum liked to watch. The thought made him smile and wonder what sort of drugs he was on. Whatever they were, they were pretty good. He let himself drift until the nurses started moving pillows, and straightening his sheets, then he drifted some more.
When he opened his eyes again, it was easier, and there was less of a hysterical response from his visitors. Daniel was at the foot of the bed talking quietly to Michael. When he turned his head, his mother stood up and squeezed his hand, avoiding the cannula.
“Sweetheart,” his mother whispered and came to kiss him on the head. She looked the same as always. She smelled the same too.
“Hi.”
“Hello, darling. How are you feeling?”
“Sore.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“What happened?” He looked at Daniel.
“There was an incident,” she said.
“What?”
“Don’t you remember?” She smiled hopefully.
“Not really….”
Daniel moved to stand closer and rested a hand on his leg because his other arm was encased in bandages and propped up. “Don’t worry about it, you’re doing fine. You just need to rest.”
His mother squeezed his fingers again. “He’s right, love. You need to rest and get well.”
He looked at his mother, then at Daniel. “You two seem to be getting along well?”
His mother’s smile was a little tight and she shrugged. “You could have told me, you know.”
“Um, told you what?” His voice was a feeble croak and try as he might, he couldn’t read his mother’s expression. Daniel’s wasn’t much better.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you and Daniel got married?”
What the actual fuck?
He blinked and tried to unglue his tongue. “Married?” The words came out as a squawk.
“Yes, you could have told me. It would have been okay.”
“Married?”
“Oh, lord, no.” Her eyes watered and she turned to looked at Daniel and Michael. “Has he got amnesia?”
He’d got fucking something. He looked at D
aniel who put a finger to his lips and shook his head as his mother turned her back on him. There was a warning in his eyes.
“I haven’t got amnesia, Mum, I’m just tired.” He looked at Daniel for help, enlightenment… anything. “Daniel?” His voice was still croaky.
His mum stood back and let Daniel come and hold him. His hand was large and warm. Familiar. His thumb drifted gently across Christian’s knuckles in a tender gesture he hadn’t experienced since they were together all those years ago.
“What happened?”
Daniel smiled uncomfortably and squeezed his hand. “You were attacked in the street. Guys with knives. Fortunately, Finlay Masters was there, and he knew how to give emergency aid. He stemmed the bleeding and got you to hospital.”
“Bleeding?”
Daniel’s thumb was moving gently over the back of his fingers.
“Cut to your abdomen and damage to the artery in your arm.” He nodded to the arm covered in bandages propped carefully by his side.
“Shit.” Christian frowned, trying to recall. “I remember some guys bumping into me, then it all went a bit woolly.”
Muscles leaped along Daniel’s jaw. “Yeah. You lost a lot of blood.”
Christian closed his eyes as the memories of what happened crawled back into his consciousness. He tried to deal with the notion that he might have died had Finn not been there. Arterial bleeds were unforgiving.
He shuddered, opened his eyes, and looked at Michael. “Say thanks to Finn for me, would you?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll need some things.” Christian tried to sort out in his head what he might need for a stay in hospital. He’d never been in hospital before.
Before he could say more, Daniel squeezed his hand.
“It’s okay, babe. I’ve brought your stuff from home.”
“Um, thanks.”
Daniel nodded and smiled. Christian wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting. The tender smile, or hearing Daniel refer to him as ‘babe.’
Michael moved. “Mrs. McCafferty. Why don’t I take you for a coffee? I’m sure these two would like some time to talk?”
Christian could have kissed him. She obviously wasn’t keen on the idea, but let Michael lead her away. When the door closed, he looked at Daniel.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Before Daniel could reply, the nurse came in and started bustling about. She shooed Daniel out while she did his observations and made arrangements for the consultant to come and see him.
“Can I go home then?”
She gave him that nurse’s smile that says, ‘don’t be daft’ and shook her head. “Afraid not, love. You had a bit of a close call there. You’re okay, but we want to keep you here for observation and rest, and to look at how best to rehabilitate you. Mr. Crawshaw will advise, but you’ll need antibiotics and anti-coagulants for a while until everything stabilises and we can be sure there is no further damage or infection.”
“Mr. Crawshaw?”
“Your consultant.”
“Ah. Great. Thanks.”
He lay quietly while a whole host of people came in and poked and prodded him. They wrote things on charts and talked over his head. By the time she disappeared, and Daniel came back in, he was so tired his eyes were drooping. Daniel sat on the chair by the bedside awkwardly and glanced at him.
“Did Bryce do this or was it some random mugging?”
“I’m looking into it, but I can’t help but feel it’s too coincidental not to be linked to Bryce.”
“And we’re married now. Do I actually have amnesia? Have I missed something? I remember you dumping me twelve years ago, and fucking you after the funeral, but the wedding bit seems to be missing ‘cos I just remember the dumping part again.”
Daniel shook his head, looked away and swallowed before turning back
“They wouldn’t let me see you if I wasn’t a close relative. I told them we were married.”
“Of course. As you do.”
“What?”
“Can’t get what you want, so lie.”
Silence.
“One you’re out of intensive care we should think about transferring you to a private room.”
“What?”
“Easier to keep you under surveillance.”
Christian’s head was spinning again. “The police are watching me?”
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. A frown pulled his eyebrows down. “No, I am.”
“What?” This was turning into a fucking circus. He shook his head, but it hurt, making him wince. Immediately, Daniel had hold of his hand.
“Rest now. We can talk later.”
Christian wanted to argue, but he was so bloody tired. It was like someone had pulled out the plug and every last shred of energy had drained away, leaving him limp and empty. He nodded reluctantly and closed his eyes.
“We’ll continue this conversation when I can make my eyes work.”
He felt Daniel take hold of his hand. It was hard, warm; safe. The softness of Daniel’s lips on his knuckles made him smile as he drifted off.
13
Daniel held Christian’s limp hand. He was out cold again. Exhausted probably. He rubbed the back of his knuckles and listened to the beep of the heart monitor. Exactly as he’d been doing for the past forty-eight hours. He looked so bloody young. So vulnerable. It always amazed him how his fucked-up family could produce someone as fundamentally good as Christian. Oh, there were flashes of the old McCafferty blood from time to time. He was sharp and intelligent, but whereas there wasn’t a good or compassionate bone in any of his side of the McCafferty clan, Christian had it in spades. There was a goodness and empathy in him that set him apart. He leaned over, lifted his hand as far as it would go, and kissed the back of it. He could smell his skin. Smell that scent that was just Christian. He had long, bony, beautiful fingers, and Daniel ran his thumb over them.
Ironic really. He’d played a cat and mouse game with him for the last year, pretending that he owed him for the help he’d given him. It suited him to do that because it meant he stayed in his life however peripherally. Taking him to bed after the funeral had moved things into a different league entirely and he knew it had to stop. He’d made the grand gesture, cut him free, and here they were. There was no way he could leave him until Bryce was neutralised. No way at all. Bryce was a tiny fish in a massive pond. He should have gone away by now, but his father’s death had let all manner of scum surface. Bryce included.
And now, here they were, pretending to be married. He’d said that on the spur of the moment because he knew that was the only way he’d get proper access to Christian. Ex-boyfriend slash fuck buddy wouldn’t cut it. He’s been half crazed with fear and it had seemed like the only reasonable solution. When Laura arrived to be told that Christian’s ‘husband’ was by his bedside she’d been stunned. When she realised it was him, she nearly keeled over. He wasn’t at all sure she’d bought his hurried explanation that they’d been dating for a while and decided to make it permanent with no fuss. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Christian wouldn’t do anything like get married without telling her. But she’d gone along with it.
He looked at Christian. He was so pale. He shifted in his seat and leaned closer so he could stroke his hair. He caressed him gently and ran a thumb over his eyebrow. So handsome. So good. What the fuck was he going to do? It wouldn’t be long before she was back with Michael and then he was fairly sure the interrogation would start. Michael Cross wasn’t going to be any good at lying.
His phone buzzed. A glance at the text made him smile. Gently, he extricated his fingers from Christian’s and made his way into the corridors of the hospital. Asher was waiting for him with a half-smile on his handsome face. It was a deceptively innocent-looking face. Asher Malek was not at all innocent.
“Here you go.” He held out a small package, a knowing smile in his dark eyes.
“Thanks. Any news?”
“No. He’s gone to grou
nd but it shouldn’t take long.”
Daniel nodded. “Appreciate it.”
Asher clapped him on the arm. “Hang in there.” He turned on his heel and left. Daniel went back into the room. He checked no-one was about and opened the bag. In it was a discreet jeweller’s box. He opened it, and it gave him a strange feeling in his stomach to look down at two matching wedding bands. He took the larger one and slid it on his finger. Took the smaller one, hesitated, then pushed it onto Christian’s left hand. It was a bit big, but it fit okay.
He sat looking at the rings. And waited.
14
Christian couldn’t stop looking at the wedding band on his left hand.
“Isn’t this taking things a bit far?” he said to Daniel who was staring intently out of the window at the pouring rain.
“Maybe, but it’s done now.”
“You could’ve told my mum.”
Daniel’s shoulder twitched in a shrug.
“I’ll have to tell her. I can’t have her thinking I’ve gone and got married without saying a word.”
Daniel glanced at him. “As she long as she doesn’t tell the nursing staff, I’m fine with that.”
Christian closed his eyes. “Do you have to be such hard work?”
He scowled; those dark brows drawn down again. “I’m not being hard work. Do you realise…”
He shut up as the door opened. Christian opened his eyes and his mother peeped around the door.
“Can I come in?”
Christian smiled and lifted his hand. “Of course, you can. Daniel was just going for a drink. Weren’t you?” He gave him a pointed look. Daniel grit his teeth and disappeared.
His mother let out a sigh. “Is he always this oppressive? He’s like having your own personal thunder cloud following you about.”