No Way Out

by Julie Lynn Hayes

  As Shy watched, Randy crumpled before his very eyes, and the room exploded into chaos.

  “Call 9-1-1!”

  Chapter Six

  TIME BEGAN to move in funny ways. Sometimes it was stretched out, like pulling on taffy. Then it seemed that people moved about Shy in slow motion, their words as incomprehensible as if spoken in a foreign tongue. And then sometimes time jerked and pulled, and passed without his being aware of what happened.

  He sat in the eye of the storm, his mind devoid of thought. Nothing made sense. Nothing. The cries of “Do something” and “Call 9-1-1!” faded. The only constant was Randy, who lay on the floor, unmoving. So Shy sat where he was, and also didn’t move, for he’d not been told he could, so he wouldn’t.

  By the time the paramedics arrived with the stretcher, someone had dressed Shy in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and removed his collar and his cock ring, freeing his numb cock. But that didn’t seem to matter, did it? The pants were too big and the crotch hung to his knees, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fixed on Randy, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

  But his lips never moved.

  Shy watched the paramedics carefully, although what they were actually doing, he couldn’t say. None of it made any sense. All of it was gibberish.

  But he understood they were taking Randy somewhere else, that much was plain. As was the fact that he needed to go with them. When they loaded Randy onto the stretcher and began to walk him from the room, Shy automatically rose and followed.

  “Where are you going?” one of them asked.

  “With you.” That seemed obvious. At least Shy thought so.

  The man shook his head, but he never paused, and Shy simply kept walking after them. He had to go. That’s what he was meant to do. If he didn’t, Randy would be pissed, and he knew it.

  Then time jumped and he found himself in a room like an office, with two men. Randy and the paramedics were gone. Shy recognized the man who’d told Randy to leave Shy alone. The other seemed familiar too. It took a moment, but Shy realized he was the owner of the club. Shy sat on a small couch. The two men sat in chairs by the desk.

  “I know he wanted to go along, but that just wasn’t possible,” Blankenship was saying.

  “I know, I know.” Bobby—that’s his name, Shy remembered—ran a hand through his close-cropped gray hair. “Damn, what a mess.”

  “He brought it on himself.”

  “Yeah, I know that too.”

  “We have to do something about….”

  Shy raised his head. Him? Were they talking about him? Must be. They were both looking directly at him.

  “Has he got family?” Blankenship wanted to know.

  “Only Grant, God help him.”

  They fell silent, while Shy’s mind kicked around the idea of family for a few seconds but came up empty. The concept was too alien for him to dwell on. Doreen didn’t count. She’d never wanted him and told him so often enough. Told him never to call her mother. So he hadn’t—she’d beaten the word out of him.

  Shy replayed the scene again, saw Randy fall to the ground, watched the escalating panic, as though he was watching a video. It still made no sense. When would they take him to Randy? He should be there when Randy woke, or there’d be hell to pay.

  He’d have to apologize, the best way he knew how. There was no doubt in his mind that Randy would be mad. But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

  He just had to go, before it was too late. Before Randy realized he wasn’t there.

  Why didn’t they understand that? Why couldn’t they see that the longer he waited, the worse it would be? He glanced down at his lap. His hands twisted together without him seeming to make them move. He focused on them, worked at stretching his fingers out and then meshing his hands together again, as though he was a human puzzle.

  Randy had a puzzle in his den. Shy had been curious. He’d picked it up and twisted it around, playing with the colors until he aligned them perfectly, one color to each side of the cube. But when he’d proudly showed Randy what he’d done, Randy had slapped the puzzle from his hands. And then he’d spanked Shy.

  Shy exhaled a long breath and looked up again.

  “Does Grant have any family that can take him?”

  “Don’t think so,” Bobby replied.

  “I’d like to go home now.”

  Until both men stared at him, Shy hadn’t realized he’d spoken, that those were his words. Suddenly, he realized that’s what he needed to do. “Please,” he added, having almost forgotten his manners.

  The men exchanged glances, although Shy didn’t understand why there should be a problem. He needed to go home. He had to make the house ready. Randy wouldn’t be long, and if he came home and things were not taken care of, there’d be hell to pay.

  Bobby sighed and shook his head. He slammed his closed fist onto the top of his desk. Blankenship jumped, but Shy never reacted. “I don’t see we have much choice. He can’t very well stay here.”

  “I could take him home with me….” Blankenship began. Bobby vehemently shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t open that particular can of worms. Besides, I think being in familiar surroundings will do him more good.”

  “I still think he should be with someone,” Blankenship insisted.

  Bobby came around the desk and knelt before Shy. “Do you have any friends, Shy? Someone you can stay with?”

  Friends? Shy shook his head. “I need to go home, please,” he repeated politely.

  “You know that Grant is a… monster.” Why does Blankenship sound so distressed? Shy wondered. “How can we take him back there?”

  “We have no choice. Shy’s an adult. He’s free to do as he wishes.”

  “Do you know what he was going to do? Do you have any idea?”

  “I heard.” Bobby groaned again and rubbed his face with both hands. “Oh damn, this is so hard.”

  Hard? Why was anything hard?

  He had to go home. That was easy, not hard. If he didn’t, then things would get hard. Then he’d get punished. He trembled at the thought.

  Blankenship moved onto the couch beside Shy, laid his arm about his shoulder. “Shhh, shhh, it’s all right, everything’s all right, Shy. I’ll take you home.”

  Home… home…. Yes, that’s where he needed to be.

  But just as he thought that, another idea entered his brain, and without stopping to think, he spoke the word aloud.

  “Wyatt.”

  “WYATT, QUIT pacing. You’re worse than an expectant father.”

  Wyatt stopped in midstride, turning toward his mentor. Lukas poured himself another shot and leaned against the back of the sofa, crossing his legs.

  “He’ll be here when he’s here. You worrying about it isn’t going to make it happen any sooner.”

  Wyatt’s head was still spinning from the news they’d received. Or, rather, the call Lukas had gotten from Bobby Demaris. Telling them that asshole Grant had had a heart attack and been taken to the hospital and Shy was all alone and now someone was bringing him here.

  Here. Why here? Because the only name Shylor had given them was Wyatt’s. He gave Lukas a puzzled look. “How did they figure out to call you?” he asked again, as the first explanation had flown over his head in his excitement of hearing about Shy’s imminent arrival.

  “Boy, you need to calm down,” Lukas chided him in a gentle tone. He patted the seat beside him. “Get over here before you wear a hole in the carpet and I’ll tell you.”

  Wyatt didn’t want to, but he did anyway, dropping onto the piece of furniture with little grace. That earned him another look, but Lukas let the matter pass. “Shy must have told them you’re living here, and since Bobby knows John, and knows he’s out of the country, it only made sense to call me. Now, listen to me. Before he gets here, we need to discuss a few things.”

  “Discuss? Discuss what?”

  “Well, how you intend to handle the situation, for starters.”

 
; Wyatt ran his fingers through his messy curls, trying not to tear out some of the strands in his frustration. He took a deep breath and attempted to focus on what Lukas was saying. This was too important not to. Shy’s well-being depended on his keeping his cool.

  “What do you mean?” he asked in a moderately calmer voice.

  “I mean Shy’s got to be traumatized, if for no other reason than he just watched his… saw Grant have a heart attack right in front of him.”

  Something flashed in Lukas’s eyes, something resembling horror… or disgust…. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

  “What else? There’s something else, isn’t there? What happened to Shy at that club tonight?” He pronounced the word club as if it left an unpleasant taste, based on what he’d heard went on there alone. How could people live like that?

  “Now, Wyatt, you have to promise me not to fly off the handle. And do not say anything to Shy about what I’m about to tell you. The only reason I am telling you is so you don’t ask him about it. Got it?”

  Wyatt nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He clenched his fists on top of his legs, bracing himself for the worst, whatever that might be.

  “Here, drink this first.” Lukas poured what little of the bourbon was left in the bottle into Wyatt’s glass and held it to his lips. Wyatt tilted his head back and let the warmth trickle into his mouth and down his throat, sending reinforcement to his extremities.

  “Apparently, from what Bobby told me, Randy and another guy got into it. Something to do with some business deal.” He paused, looking down at his hands, then back up to Wyatt.

  “And?” That couldn’t be all it was. There had to be more to it, surely.

  “And after they were threatened with being kicked out, they made up, and Randy….”

  “And Randy what?” Spit it out, already.

  Lukas took a deep breath and let the words out quickly, as if to deaden the impact. “Randy offered to have Shy blow a whole room full of men.”

  “He what?” Wyatt exploded. He leapt up from the sofa, his heart pounding, literally seeing red he was so angry. “That motherfucker! I’m going to kill him! Who the fuck does he think—?”

  He found himself yanked unceremoniously off his feet and back onto the couch, before he could aim one of his fists toward the coffee table.

  “What did I tell you?” Lukas didn’t yell, didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was too serious not to listen to, as if he was used to taking charge. Come to think of it, he probably was.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Wyatt moaned, then caught himself. Dammit to hell, Lukas was right. He couldn’t fall apart now. Shy needed him. He was depending on him. And what was he doing? Losing his shit like a fool. Hadn’t Shy asked for him by name? Didn’t that mean something? Something very significant? What good would it do for Wyatt to fall apart on him?

  He took deep, calming breaths, forced himself to focus. He had to know, to prepare himself for the truth. Whatever it was, he swore to himself, he wasn’t going to react. He’d hold it in as long as it took.

  “Did he… did he force Shy to….” He couldn’t even get the words out. If he were to finish that sentence, he knew he’d be violently ill.

  “No.”

  Thank God.

  “Luckily, one of the other members intervened on Shy’s behalf and questioned whether Shy was actually consenting or being forced.”

  “What did Shy say?”

  Lukas shrugged. “Not much of anything. But that’s when Randy had his heart attack, so it became a moot point.”

  Wyatt was glad on many levels, mostly for Shy’s sake. “W-why… why would someone do that to another human being? Against his will?” Not that he’d be happy if Shy’d consented, but at least he’d accept that. But to be forced… that was just inhuman.

  “Well, I honestly don’t know. And, to be honest, I think, after tonight, Grant’s worn out his welcome at the club, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “I’d feel a hell of a lot better if Shy got away from him. Permanently,” Wyatt growled.

  “Can’t do anything about that right now, and that’s nothing to worry about. Just keep something else in mind, Wyatt.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You can’t touch him.”

  “What the fuck do you think I am, an animal?” Wyatt’s indignation mounted, but at a glance from Lukas, he subsided into wounded silence.

  “I didn’t say that. Didn’t even think it. But you honestly don’t know what you’re dealing with. It would take so little to scar that poor boy. And I’m not just talking sex here, though God knows that probably hasn’t been pleasant. Just don’t expect him to respond to you because you want him to. He won’t appreciate it, and he won’t know how to handle it. Take everything very slow with him. Everything, Wyatt.”

  “I just want to help him, Lukas,” Wyatt said plaintively. “That’s all. I have no ulterior motives. I’m not trying to get him into bed or anything. Honest.”

  “I believe you do care about him. Too much.”

  “What do you mean too much?”

  “I think you’re forgetting who he belongs to.”

  Another growl rose in Wyatt’s throat. “That’s ridiculous. He can’t belong to anyone but himself. What kind of times do you think we live in?”

  “You ask him that and you’ll find out,” Lukas said flatly. He laid a hand on Wyatt’s arm, gazing earnestly into his eyes. “I know you mean well and you want to protect him. But what happens when he tells you he’s going back to Randy? What happens when his Dom gets out of the hospital and claims Shy all over again? You have to realize that’s going to happen. You can’t afford to love this boy, Wyatt, you just can’t.”

  “Maybe he won’t get out.” Wyatt clutched at straws. “People die from heart attacks all the time.”

  “Yeah and maybe that would be a kindness to Shy, but you can’t count on that. And I don’t believe you’d wish someone’s death for that reason.”

  Wyatt set his mouth in a tight line and refused to let himself be drawn into an argument. Grant’s death would not cause him to shed any tears, and he’d be no loss to the world. Most of all, Shy would be set free…. If that was a horrible thought, then so be it.

  “So, what are you planning on doing?”

  Good question. “Just keep him safe. Take care of him the best I can.”

  “With no expectations?”

  “With no expectations.”

  “Good.” Lukas let out a long breath. “That’s a start. It’s time for you to get your head together, if you really intend to do this, Wyatt. Shy needs a friend right now—he doesn’t need a lover.”

  Wyatt saw the lights first, cutting through the darkness that blanketed the street. He jumped to his feet, almost falling in the process. A swift but gentle kick from Lukas reminded him to settle down.

  “Why don’t you answer the door while I clear up this mess?” He gathered up the empty bottles in one hand, picked up the glasses in his other, and quirked a brow at Wyatt.

  “Yes, I know. Friend, not lover.”

  Lukas nodded, satisfied, and left the room.

  It felt like an eternity but was probably mere moments later that the sound of the doorbell shattered the silence. Wyatt took a deep breath. You can do this. You have to do this. For Shy’s sake.

  Then he opened the door.

  THE THOUGHT uppermost in Shy’s mind was home. Getting home before Randy, making sure everything was immaculate. And preparing for his punishment. That he’d be punished, he had no doubt. Randy had told him to do something, and he’d not done it. There would be consequences—that Shy knew.

  The man who drove him home was nice. He hadn’t talked much, for which Shy was grateful. He’d asked Shy what music he liked to listen to. Shy said he didn’t know much about music, so the man—who said his name was Bill—picked out a station. Shy didn’t care what it was, he wasn’t really listening.

  When they walked up the path, only then did he re
alize that this was not home. But before he could voice his concern, the door opened and there stood Wyatt, and whatever Shy had been about to say evaporated, leaving him tongue-tied.

  “Come in, come in,” Wyatt welcomed them, standing aside. Bill motioned Shy ahead of him. Shy was unsure of what to do, but his feet had no such problem, and he found himself inside the house without having consciously decided to move.

  Another man entered the room, from the direction of the back of the house. Shy recognized him. His name was Lukas. He was a friend of the man who lived across the street from them. He was also a member of the club. He was one of the Doms, like Randy.

  Lukas glanced at Wyatt, then at Bill. Everyone seemed frozen in place, as though they were living statues. Wyatt broke the silence first.

  “Sit down, Shy, please.” He took a step toward him, then stopped, gesturing toward the sofa.

  Shy reluctantly took a seat, to be polite, but he didn’t sit back, hovering instead on the edge of the cushions. He didn’t intend to stay for any length of time, so there was no need to get comfortable. Besides which, he was still a little sore from where Randy’d bitten him earlier.

  “I have to get home,” he repeated. Maybe if he said it often enough, it would happen. An image rose into his mind—two red-jeweled shoes clicking together, a voice intoning, There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home…. Shy instinctively pressed his own heels together tightly. Nothing changed.

  Another awkward moment. When Bill cleared his throat, Shy thought Wyatt would jump out of his skin. The thought almost made him giggle, but he held it in.

  “Sorry,” Lukas apologized. “Wyatt, this is Bill Blankenship. Bill, this is my protégé, Wyatt Findley. You’ve heard me talk about him, I’m sure.”

  “Oh yes, definitely.” Bill held out his hand to Wyatt, and Shy watched them shake.

  “Thank you for bringing Shy. And for everything you did for him. I can’t thank you enough….”