Taming the Beast

by Andrew Grey

  “And the cost…?”

  “Get the Foundation to approve it.” Dante wasn’t going to argue about it. “Our mission is to help the community, and this is a lot more important than some beautification project.” The mayor’s comment still stuck in his craw.

  “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain blue-eyed man who runs the Center, does it?” Yates sounded amused, and Dante growled deep in his throat. “Sorry. But I had to ask.”

  “Why? Beau is a dear man, and he doesn’t deserve to be the subject of rumor and speculation.” They could say what they wanted about him, but no one was going to disparage Beau.

  Yates cleared his throat. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Good. And contact the state police while you’re at it. Ask them to send someone here to look into the fire and what’s going on. The mayor had his hand in this deal to sell the building that housed the Center, and I’m not sure that he and the police chief are capable of keeping their personal agendas out of any investigation.” Dante was willing to use his connections to make sure the people in authority behaved the way they should.

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks.” Dante ended the call and looked to the door, where Beau leaned on the frame, then came inside.

  “You don’t quit, do you?” he said, sounding angry.

  Dante stood and walked to him. “No. I’m a man of action. My lawyer is looking into potential temporary locations for you. Once he has something, you can see if they’ll fit your basic needs. I know they won’t be perfect, but we’ll get the Center up and running again.” He enfolded Beau into his arms. “I know this has been a shitty day, but we’ll figure it out and get through it.” He had to try to make things better for Beau. He held him tight, and after a few seconds, Beau looked up at him, smiling.

  “I always knew this man was inside you.”

  “I thought you might be angry with me,” Dante whispered. Sometimes he had to admit that his instincts with others were crap.

  “Why would I be?” Beau snuggled against him, his voice muffled against Dante’s shirt.

  “Because you didn’t want me stepping in before.”

  Beau lifted his face and rolled his eyes dramatically. “That was when we were trying to save the Center and show the board that it had community support. It needed the community behind it—it still does—but now it’s going to need a champion, and I can see that’s what it has in you… in us.”

  “It does.” Though Dante had to admit that if Beau had asked him to champion the cause of feeding blind lab rats, he’d do it as long as it made Beau happy. “What else do we need to do?”

  “I don’t know. I need to call some of our volunteers and let them know what’s going on.” Beau’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

  “You have to get a different ringtone. That one drives me crazy,” Dante said of the loud, jarring, old-fashioned telephone ring. “Maybe harps or something.” After all, Beau was angelic in Dante’s eyes. He turned away, wondering when he’d become such a sap. Not that he cared in the least. He was a sap in love, and that was all that mattered.

  Beau nodded and answered the call. Dante provided him the courtesy of not listening in as he answered questions from one of his people. He didn’t know anything right now, but Dante loved how gentle he was with them, even after call after call, answering what had to be the same questions again and again. Dante continued working; just being in the same room with Beau was good enough.

  When his phone rang, he answered it quietly.

  “Mr. Bartholomew?” a rather official-sounding voice said.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Officer Howard with the Maryland State Police. I received word to call you.”

  “Thank you,” Dante said, then explained what had happened. “I know this is unusual, but the mayor, and by extension the police chief, are too close to this with their own agendas. All I’m asking is that someone watch them so they follow the rules and do their jobs. Besides, we don’t have the fire investigative tools available to us that your department does.”

  “You really believe this fire was arson?” Officer Howard asked.

  “The fire captain thought so because of the explosion and how quickly the building burned. He thought an accelerant was at play. But we’re a small town without the resources and expertise of larger cities. I’d appreciate your help.”

  “That isn’t a problem. I’m stationed in St. George, and I’ll be able to come over and have a look around to see if I can provide any assistance.”

  “If you have questions for me or the director of the facility, you can reach either of us at this number.” He wasn’t going to hide the fact that he and Beau were involved. “At the moment Beau has been on the phone to his volunteers and some of the people he serves to try to reassure them. We are already working to find a temporary location.”

  “All right. I’ll look into what I can find and see if there is anything we can do to help.” It was a standard answer, but Dante felt better that the chief of police, who reported to the mayor, would feel some pressure to do what was right rather than what was politically expedient for his boss.

  “Thank you.” Dante ended the call, wondering what else he could do to help. His phone rang again, this time from the porcelain works, and he spent the next few hours on the phone taking care of normal business. By the time he was through, Dante was hungry. Beau had spent just as much time on the phone and looked exhausted.

  Roberts came in with a light lunch, and they ate between additional phone calls.

  Near the end of the day, Roberts knocked on the office door. “Sir, there’s someone here for you. It’s a police officer.”

  “Thank you.” Dante stood and went to meet him, with Beau right behind him. Judging by the uniform and then the name emblazoned on his chest, this was Officer Howard. “I’m Dante Bartholomew, and this is Beau Clarity. Thank you for agreeing to help us.”

  “You’re welcome.” Officer Howard took off his hat, and Dante motioned toward the office. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like anything?” Roberts asked as they entered. “Coffee perhaps?”

  “That would be nice, Roberts. Thank you,” Dante answered, anxious to find out what Officer Howard had for them.

  Officer Howard didn’t waste any time. After sitting, he opened his notebook and said, “An hour ago we issued and executed an arrest warrant.”

  “Harper Bledsoe?” Dante asked.

  “Yes. He didn’t set fire to the building himself. He paid some indigent people to do it. I think he expected that, once they got inside, they’d be caught in the fire. As near as we could tell, all of the doors were locked.” Officer Howard paused when Roberts brought in a tray and then began again once he left the room. “The two men were very drunk when we caught up to them. They were able to identify Bledsoe and explained that he paid them in a case of liquor, which they immediately began consuming, at first for Dutch courage and then because of what they’d done.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “It’s what we’re hoping to get from him. But our theory is that he got them inside and then locked them in the building. His plan was that they wouldn’t get out, and no one would question or miss them once the fire had killed them. The two men discovered the locked doors and climbed out one of the back windows before hitting their stash of booze once again.” Officer Howard closed his notebook. “It’s lucky they’re both loudmouth drunks and couldn’t keep quiet. They were behind the gift shop on Main, sitting next to the building, singing and laughing in a drunken stupor about what they’d done and how they were going to get the guy who locked them in.”

  “I guess stupid criminal tricks are real,” Beau said gently.

  “They really are.” Officer Howard stood. “I’ll let you know once we have the suspect in custody, but we have a good case, and once these men sober up, they’ll be able to provide us with additional information, I’m sure.” He tipped his head and
placed his hat back on before walking out of the office. Dante heard Roberts in the hall and knew he’d see him out.

  “This is such a mess,” Beau said quietly. “My head hurts.”

  Dante locked his computer and stood to go to Beau. He seemed so tired. Dante lifted him off his feet, Beau resting his head on his chest, and Dante carried him up the stairs to lay Beau on his bed. He looked perfect there, and Dante hoped more than anything that he’d see Beau in his bed more and more often, hopefully on a permanent basis. But it was hard for him to let go of the guilt with what had happened to Allison and now all of this. How could one decision, made years ago, have led to all of this chaos and loss?

  He turned to leave, but Beau caught his hand, holding it. “I know what you’re thinking.” Beau brought Dante’s hand to his cheek. “I can hear that brain of yours churning.”

  “You do, huh?” Dante said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Yes. Somewhere in that brain of yours, you’re making the humongous logical leap that Harper’s actions are because of what you did with Allison.”

  Dante swore under his breath.

  Beau chuckled. “I have really good hearing. Harper made his own decisions and took his own actions for his own reasons. He could have walked away at any time, but he didn’t. Harper let his rage and anger consume him and cloud his judgment. None of that is on you.” Beau lifted his head off the pillow. “I’m cold. Would you come over here and warm me up?”

  Dante kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and slid up next to Beau.

  THEY NAPPED a little, and Roberts knocked on the door at dinnertime. They had a light dinner in the bedroom and stayed curled up together.

  Yates called late in the evening to say that he had a few possible organizations that were willing to donate space on a temporary basis for the Center.

  “That was quick,” Dante whispered as Beau rested next to him, eyes closed. Dante hoped he was asleep.

  “I have some connections. I’m not sure if they will suit and we can look further, but I will send over the information, and you can have Beau look it over in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” Dante lightly stroked Beau’s hair. “The state police officer stopped by the house, and they have a good handle on what happened. Things seem to be happening fast.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch in the morning.” Yates ended the call, and Dante set his phone on the nightstand, leaning against the headboard, watching a rerun of The Big Bang Theory on low volume.

  “We should sleep,” Beau told him quietly once Dante had turned out the lights.

  “Just lie still for a while.” Dante wasn’t all that sleepy, and with Beau pressed against him, he was comfortable and warm. It was nice having someone in bed with him. Making love was one thing, but just being together, Beau putting himself in Dante’s hands, was almost more intimate.

  Dante watched the rest of the episode, and then they cleaned up and got ready for bed. He let Beau go first, and by the time Dante was done and rejoined Beau in the bedroom, Beau lay on his side, curled up under the covers, only his hair visible, snoring softly.

  Dante padded around the bed, turned out the light, and then slid under the covers. Beau moved closer and then stilled, not waking at all. It was a little heady caring for someone this much, longing just to lie next to them in bed. It pleased him and terrified him at the same time. Dante wanted to accept that things between them were good. Everything he knew about relationships told him they were doing well. He trusted Beau, and Beau really seemed to trust him in return. It was almost too good to be true, which was about the time that everything went to hell.

  Chapter 8

  BEAU WOKE with a start at some point in the middle of the night. “Dante,” he said, shaking his shoulders. “There’s someone in the house.”

  “It’s probably Roberts,” Dante said groggily.

  “No. Those aren’t his footsteps on the stairs.” He shook Dante’s shoulder once more and reached over him to his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calling someone. Getting some help now,” Beau said, becoming frantic. Whoever was outside was trying to move quietly, sneaking closer to their door. Beau grabbed the phone, pressed 911, and waited for an answer. He jumped out of bed and tried to get Dante to do the same.

  Finally his call was answered. “What’s your emergency?”

  “Yes. There’s someone in the house. I’m Beau Clarity, and I’m at the Bartholomews’.” He grabbed Dante by the hand to get him out of bed, intending to lock them in the bathroom while they waited for the police, but the bedroom door burst open.

  Dante ripped the duvet off the bed and tossed it at Beau as he turned to the intruder. “What the hell are you doing here?” Dante stood unabashedly naked to face Harper Bledsoe as Beau wrapped himself in the bedding, phone dropped and forgotten, and tried to race to the bathroom.

  “Stop!”

  Beau turned in time to see the gun pointed right at him. Even wrapped in the blankets, he was suddenly as cold as ice.

  “You think you can replace my sister?” Harper’s eyes were wild and his hand shook. Beau wasn’t sure if it was fear or rage. Either was as dangerous as hell.

  “I’m not, honestly.” Beau tried to make himself appear smaller and willed his legs to stay under him.

  “What is this rubbish?” Dante demanded. “Put that thing down before you hurt someone. What’s gotten into you?” He stood rigid and tall, like a warrior of old.

  “Rubbish! That’s how you treated Allison. Like rubbish. She needed help, and you didn’t do anything for her.” Harper stepped forward, shifting the gun toward Dante. Beau didn’t move an inch. He didn’t want Harper to get more agitated.

  “Dante. Please, sit down and let’s talk.” Beau was trying to be reasonable, hoping to defuse the situation and delay long enough for help to arrive. Thankfully, Dante took a step back, leaving his hands where they could be seen, and he carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Harper pushed the gun forward, toward Dante. “Tell them to stay away.” He glared at Dante, who was clearly the source of his rage.

  “Roberts, Beau and I are fine. Please go back downstairs.” He kept his voice remarkably steady and strong. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way.” The steps hesitated, then retreated. “You have to know the police are on their way and the others in the house are going for help.”

  “I don’t care.” Harper blinked a few times, his pupils huge. Beau wanted to see him more closely, wondering what he’d taken. “I’ve wanted to get even with you since you got off for Allison’s death. You killed her. Doesn’t matter if you pushed her over the railing or not. You still killed her.”

  “What did I do?” Dante asked rather quietly. “Whatever it was, you have to know that I cared for Allison. She was my best friend for years. You know that.” The pleading in Dante’s voice was so unlike him. Beau wanted to comfort him but didn’t dare. He tried to put more distance between him and Harper, but he was nearly at the wall. He probably could have made it to the bathroom, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Dante alone.

  “She needed help, but you didn’t get her any.” Harper turned to Beau. “Neither did you—when she came to your Center, you didn’t help.” He waved the gun, and Beau caught Dante’s gaze. He had no idea what Harper was referring to. “That Center. You all claim to help people, but you didn’t help Allison. You’re all the same—completely useless.” The menace in his eyes, which had diminished slightly, returned full force.

  Beau hoped to hell help arrived soon, because from the darkness in his eyes and the set of his jaw, Harper seemed to have determined that he’d had enough. Time was running out for the two of them. He turned to Dante, taking in the way he sat—tall and naked, but strong and almost majestic in the face of his end. Dante tilted his head just slightly, enough that Beau could see his eyes and knew Dante saw him. Their connection warmed him. Dammit, he didn’t want to di
e. He wanted to spend years with Dante, grow old with him, and maybe they could have had children. So many possibilities flashed through his mind, but that’s all they would be.

  “I love you,” Beau mouthed, and Dante blinked, his lips curling slightly at the edges where he could see them. What else did a person say at a time like this?

  Suddenly the door opened. “Put the gun down!” A police officer stood partially in the doorway behind Harper in what looked like a state police uniform. “Right now!” The snap and power in his voice were awe-inspiring, and Beau jumped slightly. As a second officer joined him, this one wearing the blue of the local police, the state police officer stepped forward. “Harper, put the gun down.”

  “He killed her! He needs to pay!”

  “We’ll talk about it once you put the gun down.”

  The gun wavered, and slowly Harper lowered the pistol. The state police officer took it from him, and Harper was immediately taken into custody. As soon as he was out of the room, Dante sank down on the bedding like the fight had gone out of him.

  Beau raced over to sit next to him, sharing the duvet to cover Dante up. “It’s all right.” Beau looked at the officer still in the doorway. “Can we get dressed?”

  “Of course.” The officer backed away, and within a few minutes, Roberts hurried into the room.

  “We’re all right.”

  “I called the police.” Roberts fussed, keeping his gaze away to provide them privacy.

  “Good. Thank you.” Dante leaned close, dragging Beau into a hug. “This is just another consequence of my bad decisions.”

  Beau huffed slowly and returned Dante’s hug. Then he looked at Roberts. “Please make some coffee. Dante and I need to get dressed. Let the officers know that we’ll be down in a few minutes and that Dante and I want to speak with Harper before they take him away.” If possible, it was time that the last of what had happened to Allison reached the light of day. Beau had an idea what had been going on, but it was only a theory. Maybe Harper was in the mood for some explanations and closure just as much as Dante was.