Wild Angels

by Bethany Brown

  “Thanks.” Julian took the envelope from his lover’s hand. He recognized Patrick’s rather elegant scrawl. Patrick had fairly decent handwriting for a man. Frowning in suspicion, Julian tore open the envelope and started to read. As he read the letter, he could feel all of the blood rush from his face.

  “Julian, is something wrong?” The concern was thick in Jack’s voice, but Julian didn’t hear it. He was entirely focused on the letter. Reading the last paragraph, Julian tossed the letter at Jack and jumped out of the bed. “Julian, what’s going on?”

  Julian grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms with shaking hands and pulled them on. He knew that Jack was talking to him, but he couldn’t make himself hear the words. He needed to see Patrick. He needed to know that he was all right. A spinal injury. Patrick had had a spinal injury and kept it from him. He practically fell down the stairs as he raced to the guest room.

  Finally reaching his destination, Julian flung open the door and flipped on the lights. Patrick’s bare chest was visible above the sheets that had pooled around his waist. He twitched as the lights finally penetrated the sleep that must have been clouding his mind. The light glinted off the silver ring through his right nipple. The wound on his shoulder was very red against the white sheets of the bed. Julian walked over and poked the red area.

  “Ow!” Patrick sat up fast enough that he nearly knocked Julian over. “What the fuck, Ace?”

  “Show me.” Julian’s hands were shaking as he pulled the covers away and tried to turn Patrick onto his stomach so he could look at his back.

  “What?” Patrick was groggily rubbing at his eyes.

  “Show me the scar from where you got shot. Damn it, Patrick, just roll the fuck over.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Patrick rolled over. Julian finished pushing down the covers, revealing the blue and white striped pajama bottoms Patrick was wearing. He found the scar right away. There was a date under it just like the one on his shoulder. Julian traced the scar with trembling fingers. Even though Patrick was lying in front of him warm, alive, and capable of walking, he couldn’t stop the shaking. The scar told him that Patrick could easily have died, and no one had told him. Patrick had almost died, and no one had told him.

  The anger started to chase away the edge of the fear.

  “How dare you!” Julian hit Patrick hard enough that the other man actually flinched. “How dare you get hurt like this!”

  The logical part of his brain told Julian that he was overreacting and only succeeding in hurting the other man, but he couldn’t stop himself. He kept hitting Patrick while tears made of fear, anger, and a faint hint of panic started to form in his eyes. Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him against the tattooed chest. He tried to keep hitting him, but his arms were effectively trapped.

  “Ace, baby, calm down.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Patrick. I’m mad at you.”

  “I know you are, but you’re hurting me.”

  Julian struggled in Patrick’s arms. “How can I be hurting you? I can barely move.”

  “You think this is easy on my shoulder?”

  Julian could feel the strain in Patrick’s injured shoulder, mostly because his face was pressed against it. He could feel the muscle twitching against his cheek. Julian continued to feebly attempt to pull away, but the arms simply tightened around him. He had forgotten how strong Patrick was. “Let me go.”

  “If I let you go, will you stop hitting me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  Damn it all to hell. “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’m going to let you go now.”

  Julian felt the arms around him loosen, but they didn’t pull completely away. The tattooed arms settled at his waist, holding him loosely. Julian pulled back so he could look Patrick in the eyes. The green eyes stared back at him. He raised a hand to Patrick’s cheek. “You got shot in the spine.”

  “I did.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I don’t tell you everything, Ace.”

  Julian glared as Patrick flicked his nose. “This was different. You got shot in the back. Now let me see the others.”

  “What?”

  “The other scars.”

  “What other scars?”

  “Shut the fuck up and lie down.” Julian pushed against Patrick’s chest until the other man fell back on the bed. Patrick tucked his left arm under his head and looked up at Julian with an amused expression on his face. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Looking so damn smug. You don’t get to look smug until I say so.” Julian glared, but the amused expression didn’t leave Patrick’s face. He gave Patrick a sharp jab in the side; a satisfied smile crossed his face as Patrick let out a yelp. Making sure that Patrick wasn’t going to move, Julian turned his attention to the muscled body.

  Julian ran his fingers over the tattoos of the Japanese symbols for Health and Strength above Patrick’s heart. He let a trembling finger trace the small, very faint scar on Patrick’s collarbone. It wasn’t one that he recognized. Arching a brow, he looked at Patrick expectantly.

  “Tonka truck.”

  “What?”

  “Daniel, Justine’s son, tossed a Tonka truck at my head when he was two.”

  “How did a two-year-old give you a scar?”

  “We’d just finished playing in the sprinkler on the lawn, so I didn’t have a shirt on and apparently the toy had a sharp edge.”

  Julian shook his head with a laugh. “Only you could get a scar from a two-year-old.”

  “I’m special.”

  Julian snorted as he continued his exploration of Patrick’s chest. He gave the pierced nipple a flick as he went on his way, enjoying the slight gasp that provided. Julian had many good memories of nights spent playing with that ring. His fingers moved to the jagged scar that covered the right side of Patrick’s ribs. He splayed his hand across it and gripped slightly.

  “Hey, I’ve had that one since I was fifteen. You can’t get mad at me for that one. You’ve seen it before.”

  “I still can’t believe your father did that to you.”

  “People are not made to go through windows.” Patrick placed his hand over Julian’s. “My father is an ass, Ace. I’m okay.”

  “I know.” Julian noticed a line on Patrick’s bad arm and turned it gently. Patrick winced at the movement, but Julian got a good look at the scar that ran in a line across his forearm. “Where did you get this one?”

  “Uh, convenience-store robbery. I was trying to get a knife away from the suspect and he got me across the arm with it.”

  “You should be more careful.”

  “I am careful, Ace.”

  “You’ve been shot twice.”

  “Stop dwelling.”

  “You got shot in the back. You had a spinal injury that your doctor apparently couldn’t diagnose properly.” Julian placed both of his hands on Patrick’s chest. “We should get you an MRI.”

  “I can’t get an MRI, Ace. I have a pin in my left leg.”

  “What?!”

  “Julian, stop yelling at me. You know that I have a pin in my leg; you’re the one who put it there. Now, have you calmed down enough to go back to that man of yours and get some sleep?”

  “You’re not hiding anything else from me?”

  “Nothing serious. I might have a few scars on my legs, but I think most of them are from the motorcycle accident that got me the pin in my leg.”

  “You can’t hide shit from me anymore, Patrick.”

  “I won’t, Ace. I promise.” Patrick grabbed one of his hands and placed a kiss on the palm. “Now go back to your man. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” Julian leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Patrick’s forehead, then rose from the bed. He turned off the lights on his way out. When he pulled the door closed behind him, he ran into the solid form of his lover. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Since you took off.” A
sheepish look crossed Jack’s face. “I read the letter.”

  “That’s okay. I’m glad that you’re here.” Julian curled himself into Jack’s arms. He needed the comfort. He could still feel tremors in his arms.

  “He going to be okay?”

  “He’s going to be fine. He’s always fine. I really should learn not to worry so much.” Julian pulled out of the hug and linked his fingers with Jack’s. He started walking toward the bedroom, tugging his lover along behind him.

  “You worry because you care.”

  “I know. Come on, I need you to hold me.” Julian dragged Jack upstairs and tried to banish images of a blood-soaked Patrick from his mind.

  Chapter 6

  Julian shucked off his towel lazily, sweat still dripping from the ends of his hair, and pulled on a pair of boxers from his hockey bag. Not a bad turnout tonight—twenty guys, meaning everyone was pretty tired and sore from a lot of ice time. Maybe we should get a hot tub, he mused, wincing as he bent over to find his sweatpants. He could think of a lot of fun things to do in a hot tub.

  He finished dressing and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, sipping his beer, until he heard Jack sit down beside him. “What do you think?” he said neutrally.

  “He’s off his game,” Jack answered easily. “Scattered. He didn’t even see you coming when you checked him.”

  “Huh.” Julian took another sip of beer. “Never would have guessed in a million years.”

  “Me neither. Think he has any idea what he’s getting into?”

  Snorting, Julian finished the beer, opening his eyes again. He started to pack things back into the bag. “I know he doesn’t.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

  “This is Patrick we’re talking about,” Julian said, quietly enough that Brad, across the way, wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Nobody knows what they’re getting into.” Including himself, apparently. Shot in the fucking spine! Julian was so not over that. “Think we should warn him?”

  Jack considered, snapping on his skate guards and fitting his size fourteens into his hockey bag. “Probably. Both of them, really. Patrick can come on a little strong.”

  Julian gave him a small smile. “You don’t say?” He collected their empty beer bottles and slotted them into the case.

  “Trust me on this.”

  Julian cocked his head to one side, curious. “All right. So you think we should have a little chat with our friend?”

  “I think some advice wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “Good word,” Julian said absently. The other hockey players were starting to file out the door, calling out good-byes as they did so. “Let’s meet him outside. We don’t want to keep Marianne out all night.”

  Jack nodded, and together they grabbed their bags and headed toward the truck, waving good-bye at the night manager as they went. The complex was open round the clock on weekends, but they lived in a small town, and there wasn’t enough demand to warrant hours past ten thirty during the week.

  Jack threw the hockey bags in the back of the truck. Julian kept an eye on the door, making sure they wouldn’t miss their friend.

  “If Patrick finds out we did this….”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Patrick wasn’t the only one who could keep a secret. “Besides, we can’t just throw Brad to the wolves. Figuratively speaking.” Poor Brad wouldn’t know what hit him otherwise. “Hey, Wilde! We need a word with you!”

  Brad waved good-bye to Tommy and Marianne at the doors and dropped his bag at his car on the way over. “Hey, guys.” He seemed a little hesitant. “What’s up?”

  Jack put the tailgate on the truck down. “Have a seat.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m fourteen years old right now?” Brad wondered aloud, doing as he was told.

  Julian smirked and hopped up next to him. “So,” he said casually, “what are your intentions towards Patrick?” He’d sort of always wanted to say that.

  Brad squirmed. “This isn’t funny.”

  “It kind of is,” Jack opined.

  Julian quelled him with a look. Brad’s discomfort resonated. Here was a twenty-something-year-old man sitting on his hands because he was probably afraid he’d fidget otherwise. “Shut up a minute. I think he’s right. This is not a joke. Brad, if you’re not serious about this, you’d better speak up now, because Patrick’s not going to mess around. Uh.” Okay, that could be taken in two ways, and one of them is a lie. “You know what I mean. Until yesterday, as far as the town was concerned, you were straight. Tomorrow? You’re not going to be able to hide it, so if you’re not serious, you need to back out. Now.”

  Jack and Brad turned curious gazes on him. Julian sighed and flopped backward into the bed of the truck. “Okay, here’s the deal. Patrick came out at fifteen. His parents did not take it well.” He sighed. This was not going to be easy for Brad. Hell, it wasn’t a picnic for Julian, either. “By didn’t take it well, what I mean is his father threw him through a window.”

  “Shit.” That was Jack, white-faced in the darkness.

  Brad was quiet. “Yeah, he mentioned that. Twenty-seven stitches, right?”

  “Hell of a scar,” Jack muttered.

  “Noticed, did you?” Julian asked dryly. Patrick was making a habit of failing to wear his shirt around the house. Not that anyone was complaining. “I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, Brad. I just don’t want you going into this with your eyes closed. Patrick doesn’t keep secrets. Not about his sexuality and not about yours.”

  Shifting off his hands a little, Brad shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t care about labels.” He paused, considering. “Unless they’re on alcohol.”

  Julian barely managed to resist the urge to groan aloud.

  “What Julian is trying to say,” Jack interrupted smoothly, “is that after tomorrow, there will be no going back into the closet. And if even we didn’t know you were in it, you can bet that people are going to be pretty surprised.”

  Brad was apparently finding it difficult to take this conversation sitting down. He hopped down from the tailgate again and paced around the parking lot a little, both hands twisting in his short, blond hair. Julian could definitely see how Patrick had been attracted. Not to mention the fact that Patrick was a bit of a slut.

  “This isn’t exactly the first time I’ve been attracted to a guy.” He stopped fidgeting and leaned against the lamppost, staring up at the sky. “It’s just the first time I’ve acted on it.”

  “Yeah, well,” Julian muttered under his breath. “Once you get to know Patrick better, you’re gonna want to act on it a lot more often.”

  Jack snickered. Brad flushed under the glow of the street lamp. “It’s just one date,” he protested.

  “It’s the rest of your life, and this is a small town in a conservative province,” Jack said. “If this is what you want and who you are, then go for it. Just don’t expect nothing to change.” He paused. “Are you nervous yet?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been tying myself in knots since yesterday.”

  “That’s kind of adorable,” Julian observed with a small smile. “Patrick’s a good guy. Just be straight with him.”

  Both Brad and Jack fixed him with knowing looks.

  “I mean honest,” Julian corrected himself with an eye roll. “For God’s sake. Why is this actually more difficult than the teenagers who keep coming into my office asking for sex tips?”

  “Oh, God,” Brad said very quietly, sliding down the lamppost.

  Jack nudged Julian’s shoulder. “Way to go, Jitterbug. I think you broke him.”

  “This is not going well,” Julian agreed. They should probably have just given him a copy of the gay Kama Sutra and run away. “That figures. Sex is probably the one thing he doesn’t have to worry about.”

  Jack chuckled, sliding his arm around Julian’s waist, and lowered his voice. “We could distract him.”

  Julian’s body reacted as
Jack slid behind him, tucking his hands into the pockets of Julian’s suddenly tight jeans. His fingers teased the flesh at the tops of Julian’s thighs. “What sort of distraction did you have in mind?” he asked. His voice sounded strained to his own ears. Jack’s erection was pressed firmly up against his ass.

  Jack’s fingers traced ever-widening circles in his pockets. His stubble rubbed—very distractingly—across Julian’s neck. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  Julian swallowed hard, breathing heavily as blood rushed southward, filling his erection. Poor Brad looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be somewhere else or stay exactly where he was. Julian could sympathize. On the one hand, he couldn’t discount the exhibitionist factor. On the other hand, he wanted to be naked in their bedroom about five minutes ago.

  Jack finally quit teasing and pressed both hands firmly along Julian’s cock, framing it in the tight jeans. Gasping, Julian let his head fall backward against Jack’s chest, hips thrusting up instinctively into the touch.

  “Jesus.” Brad finally panicked enough to move, picking himself up off the ground rather stiffly. He walked to his car without looking back, started the engine, and then drove off at a speed that would have been frowned upon by local law enforcement officials.

  “Thought he’d never leave,” Jack murmured, fingers migrating to the fly of Julian’s Levis. He popped the button and drew the zipper down slowly.

  Julian panted as Jack reached into his boxers and drew out his prick, running a thumb over the pre-come gathering at the head. “Jack—oh, fuck—” He bit his lip as Jack began stroking him slowly but firmly, left hand tight against Julian’s belly.

  “You’re so hot like this,” Jack said, his voice low, closing his teeth gently over Julian’s carotid artery. “Needy.” Stroke. “Desperate.”

  Julian was lost for words or coherent thought as Jack played his body. Jack’s left hand traced a line across his belly and downwards, cupping Julian’s balls roughly through the denim.