by Rhys Ford
Don’t hunt me down to pay
—Working Off the Red
SAN FRANCISCO’S sky hadn’t lightened past a dove gray, refusing to let the sun creep past the dirty mix of clouds overhead. A light drizzle chased the dawn, then settled in for the rest of the day, misting the city in steady, filmy sheets. The rain slickened the streets and sidewalks, dampening the flotsam left behind in the rush of the crowds. Chinatown was subdued, quiet as it slowly woke to begin its day. Already small dribbles of delivery trucks and hurrying restaurant workers were playing a hopscotch roulette through the late morning traffic.
Kel met Kane at the station, grumbling slightly at the early hour, but he gratefully took the large coffee Kane handed him as they headed inside. His partner stayed silent during the nearly half-hour meeting they had with Book and Casey, absorbing the extent of what had happened to Miki the day before and murmuring his relief at the DA’s final decision to drop all charges for both parties. They’d all agreed the photographer had been in the wrong, but Kane was the first to admit Miki pushed the situation too far.
That was something Book definitely didn’t agree with.
“Someone comes to my house…,” their captain groused, stabbing at the air with his finger, “starts taking pictures of me? You bet your ass I’m going to have more than words with them. Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing. Maybe worse. I’ve got grandkids, and I’m not some kind of rock star, so maybe it’s something he should be used to, but… a man should be able to step outside of his house without worrying about someone dogging his every step. Mind you, that’s my personal opinion, but we do have laws against what that photographer was doing there.”
Casey murmured his agreement, but Kane noticed his partner only nodded, then shifted the conversation to the case they were working on. Kel’s thoughtful quietude lingered even as they stopped to grab a couple of burritos from a taco stand not far from the task force’s remote offices.
The rain forced them to retreat to Kane’s Hummer, but they’d shared many a meal sitting side by side in its leather seats. It was a lived-in vehicle with a dusting of dog hair in the back from Dude’s company on long car rides and a stash of napkins and wrapped straws in the glove compartment just in case they were needed. Still, Kel was habitually meticulous, unwilling to make a mess as he unwrapped his burrito over a spread-out paper bag on his lap, checking periodically to make sure nothing had bled through onto his pants. Kane was opening one of the sandwich baggies packed with a generous helping of jalapeño-carrots when Kel finally spoke up.
“I need to ask you something, man.” Kel placed his food on the Hummer’s dash, carefully setting it away from the edge. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to talk to you about this without it coming across as intrusive, but… I don’t know… I think I just need to bring it up.”
They were rarely serious off the job. Their partnership was built on humor as much as their shared dedication to justice. Kel’s tone… his expression… was different this time, heavy and poignant. Kane shoved his food back into his bag and wiped his hands, turning in his seat. Kel was past serious, a somber mood settling over him even before he shifted to face Kane.
“You and I are… we’re like brothers. Or at least, I feel that way, man.” Kel smiled at Kane’s murmured assent. “I mean, I obviously am the better-looking brother, but… I think I’ve got to ask you this and I need you to be honest with me, okay?”
“Yeah, dude,” Kane replied, frowning. The rain thickened a bit, obscuring the view outside, and Kane’s heart skipped a beat, his thoughts homing in on his friend’s troubled expression. “Kel, you can talk to me about anything. Shit, we’ve bled on each other. You almost backed up over my dog. What’s up?”
“God, don’t ever tell Miki that happened,” Kel hissed, shaking his head. “And actually, this is about Miki. I need to know if you’re all right. You know I love your guy, right? I’ve got every single damned record his band ever made and a couple of bootleg cuts too. One of my favorite bands and personally, he’s a complicated fuck but a decent guy. And I know he makes you happy. I see that, but… I’ve got to ask you… is he hitting you, Kane? Because if he is—”
“Are you kidding me? Look at him! I’m nearly double his size and he—” Kane cut his laugh off short when Kel’s chin lifted up, his dark gaze firm but gentle. “Kel, that’s… insane. I mean—it’s Miki.”
“I love you, man, and I’d understand if you’re pissed off at me for talking about this. I know how I would feel. I’d be pissed off, and I’m hoping you can see why I have to bring this up,” Kel pressed, and Kane sat back against the Hummer’s door, shocked to his core. “Look at the situation. All of the signs of potential domestic abuse are there. You know it. I know it. We’ve seen this kind of thing before. His size doesn’t matter. Neither does yours. I need to know you’re okay. Because if you aren’t… if he is hitting you… then we’re going to need to do something. Get you out of there. Don’t tell me you love him. I know you love him. But after yesterday, I’ve got to ask you this. If I didn’t then I wouldn’t be somebody you could call your brother.”
His partner was serious. Sitting next to him in the middle of a dreary San Francisco day, his best friend was asking him if his lover beat him. Processing through the shock Kel’s words left him in, Kane was about to vehemently deny the whole situation, angrily so, but reason took hold.
They’d seen the aftermath of abuse. Spent countless hours counseling both the poor and the rich, as well as everyone else in between. It didn’t matter a couple’s gender, finances, or size, there were always signs. Kane couldn’t count the hours he’d spent trying to convince someone to walk away from a dangerous situation. There’d always been apologies and excuses, an underlying obsession or fear neither cop could get the victim to shake off. Denial was their biggest obstacle, words sometimes flung at them in spits of rage, and assurances there was no physical or emotional damage being done to them.
Kane also couldn’t count the number of times they ended up returning to a scene to stand over a dead body wearing a familiar face and all-too-familiar bruises.
“Okay.” Kane puffed out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. It felt like Kel had punched him in the stomach, pushing all of the air out of him, and Kane struggled to catch his breath. The idea of Miki striking him was so far away from reality, Kane could barely wrap his mind around the idea. Still, Kel had to question their relationship, especially considering all of the things he and Kane saw on the job. “I get how you would think this. I do. And yeah, it’s a conversation I would want you to have with me if—”
“I’ve seen—we’ve seen—some really big guys with tiny partners whose faces are all fucked-up and they’re insisting everything’s fine. Yeah, I’m worried. And it’s nothing against Miki. I just need to make sure. If you look at it, you can take a lot of boxes off of the checklist. He’s got a bad temper, has access to some pretty serious drugs, and yesterday took a piece of metal to a guy with a camera, beating the crap out of him because he was behind your guys’ house.” Kel held up his hand, telling Kane to wait before speaking. “He’s not a small guy. Sure, he’s not a Morgan, and you guys are built to fend off Viking hordes, but even as fucked-up as his knee is, Miki’s got a lot of muscle on and he grew up mean.”
“Miki is far from mean,” Kane interjected. “He’s just… irascible.”
“Kane, nice isn’t that boy’s default setting. Miki grew up hard, and I’ll be the first one to tell you I don’t know how he gets through his day without taking the fuck out of everybody in front of him. If it was me and all of that shit went down during my childhood, I’d be fucking skinning people instead of making music. He’s stronger than I ever could be, and I’ve got to give him props for that,” Kel said. “But I’ve also got to acknowledge he’s not somebody I would want to cross.”
“Every single time shit’s gone down with him it’s because he’s defended himself.” Even though he’d never been in danger around Miki, Kane knew
what it sounded like—what he sounded like—and his words were flimsy, potentially ripe with excuses. “He’s never ever raised a hand to me. I can’t imagine him ever doing that, but yesterday was troublesome. My gut says he was really scared yesterday. I saw him afterwards and he was shaking. It took him a while to even focus on me, and he kept asking if Damie was okay and if Dude was all right.”
“I’ve seen what he can do to defend himself. See, you and I, we grew up in a family. Hell, I’ve seen you guys beat the shit out of each other playing touch football. I’ve even seen you and Connor get into a shoving match, but there’s a key difference between how you guys… and me… go into a fight. You and me? We go in to win, but Miki? He goes and makes sure the other guy doesn’t get back up to hurt him. There’s no gauging when to stop or if the other guy is ready to give up. We’ve been in some fights, and there’s always that holding back, but not for your Miki. He goes in to end it. He goes in to make sure he’s the only one left standing.”
“He’s not a brawler,” Kane agreed. It felt odd defending Miki to Kel of all people. “Miki isn’t violent. Not unless pushed too far. And we agreed he needs to take a step back and really look at how he’s doing, how his anger is affecting him. Last night was… too much. He knows that.”
“All that’s good, but do you see why I’m asking if he’s hurting you? Because you love him and you’re a Morgan. There’s a lot of pressure being you. I don’t know if that pressure includes not saying something if Miki’s hitting you.” Kel shrugged at Kane’s doubtful hiss. “I have to ask. We have egos. We’re big bad cops with guns, and you have a badge that’s got a heavy name on it. I don’t think you would hide that from me, but—”
“I wouldn’t,” Kane said softly. They didn’t touch, not normally. A couple of slaps across their shoulders or even a pat on the ass during a workout, but hugs were few and far between, and a casual squeeze of each other’s hand was unheard of. Still, Kane reached across the Hummer and took Kel’s hand, gently clenching it. “I love you very much. I think of you as a scrawny brother—which is saying a lot because we think Quinn is scrawny—”
“Dude, that’s messed up. Q is not a skinny guy. His upper arms are like my thighs,” Kel objected.
“Shut up for a bit. I’m trying to have a moment here with you.” He grinned, spoiling the effect of the mock outrage he’d put into his words. Kane tightened his grip once more, then said, “If Miki were beating on me, I would tell you. And I wouldn’t stay. As much as I love him, and God, the idea of a life without him makes my heart weep, but there’s no living with that kind of relationship. I’m grateful you care about me enough to ask me this. I know it was hard because it’s not something guys talk about or even… well, most cops would admit to… but I’m okay. And Miki will be okay as soon as he finds somebody qualified to talk to about all of the shit he’s gone through.”
“So are we good?” Kel asked, returning Kane’s clench. “I don’t want you to be pissed off at me, but… I had to ask.”
Kane patted Kel’s hand, then let go, shaking his head as he reached for his food. “I’m not pissed at you, man. We’re more than good. You’re just looking out for me, and I appreciate that. I really do.”
“Good.” His partner sighed in relief. “For a moment there I was kind of scared I wouldn’t just lose you, I’d lose my backstage access and kickass tickets. ’Cause you might be my brother, but they’re my favorite band.”
IT TOOK Miki five times dialing the number Quinn gave him before he said hello when someone picked up. The woman on the other end—a tender-voiced, hard-as-steel-underneath psychologist named Penny—listened as he spoke. She only interrupted to disabuse him of calling her by her last name and once again when he apologized for disturbing her day. Even though Quinn had told him she was expecting Miki’s call, he was still wary when she admitted as much.
“Doctor Morgan reached out to me yesterday,” she said in an accent similar to Damien’s, but Miki’d been around enough to know there was a bit of North London in her words. “He said you had an incident where you felt like you are out of control and that you might feel that it’s time to speak to somebody about it.”
He meant to laugh, but it came out strangled and forced. Dude jumped up on the couch at that point, snuggling against Miki’s leg, and the brittle, frenetic thread running through his chest stopped jiggling. Stroking the dog’s belly, he’d settled in and let go of the hardest thing he ever had to say.
“It isn’t just what happened yesterday.” Miki didn’t know why he was so scared, but suddenly a cliff in his mind appeared and he was standing on the edge of it, looking down into a nothingness that held every single nightmare he’d ever dreamed up and a few he knew were thrown in for good measure. Closing his eyes, he focused on Kane and anchored himself in the love he felt for his cop. “I think I am… no… I know I’m lost. And I don’t know how to fix it….”
He found the source of his fear. It squatted on the glittering broken-glass remains of his life before Kane, before the accident, before Damien. The monster he’d stitched together from tattered dreams and extinguished hopes stared back at him with dead eyes, daring him to speak its name.
Even when he’d been at his smallest, Miki hadn’t liked curling up and taking his blows in silence. He’d been too weak, too malleable, and much too powerless when the men who held his life in their hands peeled off strips of him every time they touched him. He’d worked too hard to wall the monster up with bricks he made of good memories and exhilarating experiences.
But it all had come crumbling down, leaving him with a monster eating him alive.
“You say you’re scared.” Penny’s voice reached across the line, dangling a bright shiny lure for him to bite. “Do you want to share that with me now or wait until we can meet in person?”
He liked how she was honest with him, a sandpaper-grit growl wrapped in velvet concern. She didn’t press but made it clear she would take whatever he gave her and sit and wait if he had nothing to hand out.
It was time to name the monster. Time to pull it out into the light and stare at it while it smoked and caught fire, promising to blister Miki’s soul as it burned.
“I’m scared shitless that if I do this…,” he whispered into the phone, staring down into his terrier’s soft brown eyes. “When I fix what’s broken inside of me—if I can fix what’s broken inside of me—I’m not going to be me anymore. That if I fix me, I’m not going to be able to write music or lyrics because everything that I write about comes from that space where I’m nothing but pieces inside. Suppose when I try to make all the pain inside of me go away, I erase myself too?”
Her laugh was better than his, lighter, but not without its own darkness. Then she replied, “But suppose if you do heal some of the hurt you have, you discover even more of yourself there? Isn’t that worth the risk?”
He hung up after making an appointment, texting Kane the time, date, and place so they could arrange for one of Sionn’s security friends to take him over. His lover shot back a quick message, informing Miki he would be the one to play chauffeur and to remind Miki he was loved.
“He’s such a fucking goof,” Miki told the dog. Dude wiggled, trying to erase the sliver of space between them, then yawned, blinking up at the man he refused to leave alone. “You are too. I hope this works out, because if it doesn’t, then I just fucked up my life more.”
“I don’t think you fucked up your life.” Damien’s voice startled Miki and he twisted quickly, pulling all the sore muscles in his body and sending a twinge shooting up his arm where he’d been shot. His brother took the stairs two at a time, then crossed over to the sectional and flopped down next to Miki. The cushions jumped, and Dude rolled a little bit but remained on his back, his eyes half-closed in sleep.
“Weren’t you supposed to be out with Sionn? Looking at bottle suppliers or something for Finnegan’s?” The scowl he gave Damien did nothing but give Miki a headache from pulling his eyebrows together, becaus
e his brother shrugged it off like a stray drop of water on a clear sunny day. “If I’d known you were home—”
“You would have put that phone call off. Not a good life decision there, brother,” Damien pointed out. He leaned against Miki, sitting shoulder to shoulder but leaving enough room for the small dog between them. “I don’t want to be someone that gloats—”
“You are totally someone who gloats,” Miki shot back.
Damien ignored him. “But you’ve been needing to talk to somebody for a long time. I’m glad you did it. Or least started to. Was he nice?”
“He was a she.” He eyed Damien. “What’s that look mean?”
Settling back, Damien said, “I’m surprised you decided to talk to a woman, that’s all.”
Damien felt nice against him, warm and familiar. It was odd how Miki was used to his brother’s scent and weight. Miki supposed it went both ways, because if there was one thing Damien did, it was being overly familiar with Miki, and he had every right to meddle in his life. Much like it appeared he was going to do right now.
And as much as Miki didn’t want to poke at his healed-over scabs, he rose to Damien’s bait. “Why are you surprised?”
“Well, you are kind of on this yellow brick road to find out who your mother is,” he said carefully, drawing his words out slowly. “And, well, you have issues with mothers and female figures in general. I would’ve thought you’d want to talk to a guy. But, honestly, Sinjun? I think you speaking with a woman is possibly the best idea you’ve had this year so far. It’ll be good for you.”
He wanted to get angry, but it was difficult to be mad at Damien, especially since the ring of truth in his words was so powerful it would take a volcano to melt it, and that would be only after a couple of short, hairy-footed men carried it across hundreds of miles to get there. Disgruntled, he slouched down into the couch and winced when his back grumbled with pain.
“I don’t know what to do about… the woman who said she was my mom,” Miki whispered. “Kane said that he will probably run into who she is while trying to figure out who killed the woman who met Edie, but—”