by Andrew Grey
Chris wasn’t sure what he had, but he checked the closet in the back room and found a box of large-size Legos from when he was a kid. He brought them to the living room and handed Pavle the blue cloth bag. Pavle and Isaac slid onto the floor, and Pavle emptied the blocks on the rug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with them, but once he figured it out, he and Isaac built a tower, which Isaac knocked down, to giggles and laughs.
Chris watched Pavle, who smiled and laughed when Isaac laughed. “That’s so good to hear.”
“What?” Anika asked quietly.
“Him laughing.” Chris realized it was the first time he’d heard it. He slid off onto the floor to join them. “What time are services?”
“Ten thirty on Sunday,” Tyrone said. “Both of you will be very welcome.”
“That’s great. Pavle needs places where he can feel welcome and part of a community.”
Isaac knocked down yet another tower. It crashed to pieces, sending blocks everywhere. Isaac put his hands over his head in a show of joy, laughing happily.
“We have some parishioners to visit,” Tyrone said after a few more towers had been built and demolished.
“Isaac, help Mr. Pavle pick up all the blocks,” Anika said, and Isaac scrambled around the room, putting the blocks back in the bag.
Once they were all picked up, Pavle closed the bag and set it on the table, took Isaac’s hand, and led him to the door. “Thank you helping me.” He hugged both Anika and Tyrone. “You save me.”
“You’re welcome, honey. We were glad it worked out, and it’s nice to meet you.” She stepped back. “We’ll see you on Sunday.” She and Tyrone shook Chris’s hand, and then he saw them out and closed the door.
“They nice.” Pavle slipped his arms around Chris’s waist, leaning against his back, sending heat running through him. “I lucky.”
Chris wasn’t a religious man. He never had been. “Sometimes prayers are answered.” He could imagine Tyrone saying that, and Chris knew in his heart it was true. If any prayer needed to be answered, it had been Pavle’s. Chris tried not to think about Pavle scratching out an existence in that small, airless room. It made his blood boil each time he did it. “But you were the one who helped yourself.” Chris turned around. “Don’t forget that.”
Pavle squeezed a little closer. “I no forget. But I lucky. They nice and help me.”
“Yes.”
“And they black.”
Chris frowned. “What does that matter?”
“It no to me. But Master Anthony, he no like them, call them names. So when I see Isaac, I think if he hate, then maybe they really nice. Master Anthony was….”
“A real jackass,” Chris finished.
“Yes. That,” Pavle agreed. “He no nice to anyone.” Pavle shivered, and Chris nodded. “I no like him at all. He hate lots of people, and….”
A clearer picture of this man was starting to form in Chris’s mind. “He took out his frustrations with people he hated on you?”
Pavle nodded slowly and swallowed. “He hurt me. When he angry, it get bad.” Pavle stepped back, rubbing his upper left arm. “Sometimes he hurt bad. I feel sick and he no feed me for long time.” Pavle lowered his gaze. “I beg for food. He like that.”
Chris pulled Pavle to him, holding him tightly. “He was a sick man.” Damn it all. He’d heard those kinds of stories before. No one should ever have to go through something like that. And knowing that Pavle had went right to his heart and made it ache on his behalf. “But he’s gone now.”
“I know. No at night, sometimes. I see him when I sleep. He come for me, and I wake up.” Pavle sighed. “I hate it. Want him go away forever and always.”
“That will happen with time. You just keep being strong. He will go to jail, where bad things happen to people like him. He isn’t going to be able to hurt you anymore, and the last time you see him will be when you tell what happened to you in court.”
“I have to see him?” Pavle shook.
“Yes, unless he pleads guilty.” That wasn’t likely to happen. Not with someone like him. These men thought themselves above the law and all human decency. Everything they did was someone else’s fault, and they compartmentalized everything to the point that they didn’t see anything they did as wrong.
“You safe me?” Pavle asked.
“Yes. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.” Chris released Pavle. “I have to make a few phone calls. Is that okay?” Pavle nodded, and Chris checked his watch once Pavle went into the other room.
Chris went through the house to the back sitting room and called Briggs. “Any luck getting Pavle’s papers?” he asked once Briggs answered.
“No. He’s refusing to talk to anyone other than his lawyer, and he isn’t going to give that up. If he does, it’s an admission of guilt.”
“Can we subpoena his safe-deposit boxes?” Chris asked.
“We did and came up empty as far as the papers were concerned. He might have another somewhere, but it’s hard to check every single bank in town. I have a deputy working that angle, but it’s a long shot.”
“Do we need to pressure him?” Chris asked. “Get him to do the right thing whether he wants to or not?” He wasn’t above playing some mind games in order to get what Pavle needed.
“The last time we put him in a room to question him, all he said was he wanted his lawyer and then refused to say anything, even with the lawyer present… not a single word. I don’t know what leverage we can get to make him talk.” Briggs seemed as frustrated as Chris had ever heard him.
“You’re probably right. We need to think about it. Maybe listen at the jail, see if anyone heard anything that might give us an insight. Prisoners talk all the damn time.”
Briggs sighed. “Kid, this guy is like a steel trap. He doesn’t talk to anybody. I’ll keep working on it, but I’m not particularly hopeful.” He cleared his throat. “Has there been anything unusual on your end?”
“No. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. Do you think they’ve gone to ground?” Chris asked.
“Not on your life. These are people who will stop at nothing to get what they want. I suspect they are looking harder, and whoever their contact is has got to be pretty damn stressed because they’re probably pressuring him for information. Just stay away and out of sight. Apparently your mother has taken a turn for the worse and is fighting cancer while your dad has been having health issues, so you’re needed there, and the sheriff has granted you extended leave. If anyone asks, I’ve told people that I’m watching your house for you. Keep the curtains in front pulled and the garage doors locked and closed. The last thing we want is for them to get wind that you’re in town.”
“But I had visitors today.” Chris swallowed, realizing he might have screwed up royally. “The minister and his family… the ones who found Pavle’s note, as well as Marie.”
“Shit….” Briggs swore under his breath. “Don’t have any more, and come and go as unobtrusively as possible. Various group homes and safe houses have reported people watching them. They are all jumpier than cats, and we don’t have any proof, but someone is keeping up the interest. The FBI has put out calls using Pavle’s drawings, so pressure is mounting. If we want to get these men, then we have to keep Pavle safe.”
“Should we leave town?”
Briggs paused. “I thought of that, but if you did, you’d have less protection. The police and sheriff’s department are available to back you up here. If you left, you’d be on your own. Just stay put and keep out of sight.”
“Okay.” Chris blew out a breath of frustration. “Pavle wants to go to church on Sunday. They invited him, and he really wants to go.” It was going to be hard for Chris to tell him no.
“Hell.”
“I know. But I can’t keep him locked up here. He needs to be out sometimes. After all, he isn’t a criminal.”
“True. But if they find him, he… and you could end up dead. I’m not going to tell you not to, but be damned careful and try
not to let people see you come and go. Also be watchful. For now, from the indications we’re getting, no one seems to have made the connection between you and Pavle, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last.”
Chris sighed. “Okay. I’ll be careful.” He checked that there was nothing else Briggs needed and ended the call. He sat in his chair, looking out over the backyard, keeping the lights off inside and wondering what he was going to do. It was just a matter of time before someone figured out where Pavle was. His hope was that the FBI was able to find the people Pavle had identified before they found him.
“Chris,” Pavle said as he came in, interrupting his worried thoughts. “I no watch alone.”
“It’s okay.” Chris held out his hand, and Pavle took it, sliding his fingers over Chris’s. “I don’t like to watch television alone either.”
Pavle sat on the arm of Chris’s chair. “Who you talk to?”
“Briggs. He’s trying to find your papers, but Anthony isn’t talking to anyone. We think he might have them, and we need them so we can help you stay in this country.”
“He nasty man. Want something. Never give anything to anyone.” Pavle leaned closer, and Chris closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around him. Pavle had made clear what he wanted, and holding him seemed as natural for Chris as breathing. Part of him said to just give in and take Pavle upstairs to show him how wonderful things could be between two people who cared for each other. And yet, he wasn’t able to. As much as he wanted to, it had to be Pavle who made that decision.
“We are working on how we can get him to change his mind.” Chris wondered if Marie might have some suggestions. She really seemed to understand how a man like that thought and would react, since she’d dealt with their victims. Her insight might be helpful. “Why don’t you and I go into the kitchen and make something for dinner. I have some chicken wings, or we can have the soup we made.” He smiled. “Do you like spicy food?”
Pavle nodded. “Mama liked spice.”
Then buffalo wings it was. He could bake them, and he had some sauce he could heat up to put on them. “I do too. So I’ll make us some spicy chicken, and you can help if you want.”
Chris leaned forward to get up, but Pavle didn’t release him, getting closer. “We cook later.” He held Chris tighter, so Chris sat still. This was too nice to rush, warm and gentle, even if his heart raced at lightning speed. He breathed deeply, enjoying a quiet moment together.
CHRIS SAID good night to Pavle and went to the bathroom, where he took a shower and pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and T-shirt for bed. He crossed the hall to his room, glancing at the closed door to Pavle’s, licking his lips. Pavle had kissed him again while they’d sat in the chair. Chris had been kissed before… and done a lot more, so what made that one different? He wanted to talk to someone, but the only person he could think of was Nanna, and he refused to ask his grandmother about kissing a boy. Though apparently Nanna was some kind of expert.
He closed the door and slipped under the covers, turning out the light. After lying still for ten minutes, he pushed back the covers and left the room with a sigh, going back downstairs to check that he’d locked all the doors and to peer out of the front curtains just to make sure nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Parked cars lined the street and a vehicle drove past, but there were no shadowy figures waiting in trench coats like in the movies. The conversation with Briggs had Chris’s imagination running on overtime. He left a small light burning in the living room and turned out the light on the stairs once he’d reached the top, then went to his room and got back into bed.
He lay awake on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his head and heart racing a mile a minute. He was nervous, and every sound in the old house left him on edge. Chris sat up at a creak in the hallway, listening for more, but heard nothing. Now he knew he was imagining things. Still, he got up to check as his door opened. Chris braced himself, arms up, legs apart, ready for a fight, as Pavle stepped into his room.
“What you doing?” Pavle asked when he saw what must have been him looking like one of the guys who gets kicked in the gut and goes down easy in a kung fu movie.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Chris stared at Pavle, who was wearing his old plaid pajamas that were a size too big for him. He relaxed as Pavle put his hands on his hips, gaze raking over Chris with enough intensity to raise the temperature in the room ten degrees. “Was there something you needed?”
Pavle’s hands slipped to his sides and his stance lightened. “I….” He turned, looking at the bed.
“Is something wrong?” Chris walked around the far side of the bed and sat down. “What happened?”
Pavle’s gaze traveled to him and then over the bed. He shifted his weight slightly and then seemed to make up his mind. Pavle approached the bed, pulled down the covers, and slipped between them. He tugged them up, leaning against the headboard.
“Pavle…,” Chris whispered. Damn, he looked good in Chris’s bed.
“This what I want,” Pavle said quietly, and Chris swallowed. “I lay over there and no want to be there. I want you, but no know how to say and you no understand.” He bit his lower lip. “I tell you, but you no listen. So I show.” Pavle’s right arm shook a little, and Chris realized just how afraid Pavle was that he was going to be rejected.
“I know. And I know what I want too.” Chris leaned over the bed to gently kiss Pavle, who pulled him in, intensifying the kiss until Chris thought the top of his head would blow off. To be wanted and desired that way was nearly too much. Chris backed away, looking into Pavle’s eyes. “I need you to tell me. Is this what you really want? You know you do not have to do this to stay here.”
Pavle rolled his eyes like a teenager. “You already say.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You no want me?” he asked.
That had been what he was trying to avoid—that hurt look. God, Chris did want him. Pavle was adorable, and whether Chris liked it or not, Pavle already held Chris’s heart in his hands. He hadn’t meant to give it to him; it had just happened.
“I do,” he admitted out loud. “I really do. But I don’t want you to—”
There was that expression again. “I no baby. I know own head.” He pointed and patted the bed next to him. Chris climbed under the covers, lying down as he watched Pavle, who grinned and shimmied farther under the covers, pulling close to him.
“Will you sleep better now?” Chris asked, because he sure as hell wasn’t likely to fall to sleep any time soon, not with Pavle’s intense heat so near.
“I sleep good now.” Pavle kissed him on the cheek, his hands sliding across Chris’s belly, and then he pressed right against him. “We go slow, like you say.”
Chris swallowed hard and nodded. It seemed Pavle was taking things into his own hands. He knew that’s how things had to be, but with his body on overdrive and Pavle, the heat furnace, right next to him, there was no way he was going to be able to go to sleep. “Okay. We can go slow.”
“But no too slow,” Pavle said.
“What does that mean?” Chris asked, amused. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“I want to sleep here. I want us to take off clothes and be together. But you not ready for that.” Pavle scooted around, getting comfortable.
Chris opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut again. He hadn’t wanted to think of it that way, but maybe Pavle was right. He wasn’t ready to jump into a physical relationship with Pavle. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was worried about…. Jesus, he was doing it again, making decisions about Pavle when Pavle was capable of making them himself. “I’m not?”
“No. You scared,” Pavle pronounced as though he had all the answers. Maybe he did. Arguing with him wasn’t going to get Chris anywhere, especially not when Pavle looked at him with those big brown eyes and lips set firmly. “I know what like to be fear. I know… I do.” Pavle patted Chris’s chest. “You scared here and need to know what want.” He patted
Chris once again, right over his heart. “You no need be scared. I not feary.” He sat up and leaned to kiss Chris softly. “Good night.” He lay back down and closed his eyes.
Sometimes Chris wondered if he was ever going to understand Pavle, but maybe he should be more concerned that Pavle seemed to understand him all too well. Granted, Chris wasn’t scared, but cautious, especially where Pavle was concerned. If this had been any other man, he would have probably taken him to bed and made passionate love to him some time ago. He’d also know that he understood the ramifications of what they did together. He wasn’t sure of that with Pavle. That concerned him and held him back.
“Good night,” he told Pavle, and slipped under the covers, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes as he slid one arm under his pillow.
Pavle lay still and then rolled over as well, pressing to Chris and skidding his arm around his waist. In the near silence, Pavle sighed and seemed to relax next to him, like he felt this was right. Chris could only hope that was true, even as he stared into the darkness toward the bedroom door.
A CRASH had Chris bolting upright. He listened and barely heard whispering coming in through the open window.
“Get this out of here and be quiet. He’s a cop and something is going on over there.”
Chris slipped out of bed without turning on the light. Pavle woke briefly and then rolled over once Chris moved away. He took a second to look at him before padding out of the room and over to the window of the landing, which overlooked the neighbor’s yard.
Two men carried boxes out of the house and toward the garage, returning a few minutes later for more. “I told you this was a bad place to set up shop.” They stopped, setting the boxes on the sidewalk, and returned inside.
Chris went back to his room and got his phone off the nightstand, then went to the bathroom because the windows weren’t open in there. “Briggs, it’s Chris. I know I can’t call this in, but my neighbor to the east is carrying boxes out to the garage at this time of night. I heard him say to be quiet and that I was a cop. One of the other men said that it was a terrible idea to set up shop here.”