by Andrew Grey
“Did he say who paid him?” Obie asked, sitting next to him and taking his hand in support.
“No. I don’t think he knows. He was desperate for money and was willing to sell his professional soul. We’ll notify the league. He’s been charged and is under arrest. The charges aren’t all we could level, but that was part of the deal for the information.”
“Okay.” Bri’s head spun. “So, where do we go from here?” It seemed they took one step forward and then hit another wall.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Who would hate you enough to pay ten thousand dollars to hurt you?” James leaned forward in his chair.
“I don’t know.” He turned to Obie. “It isn’t like I go around pissing people off all the time.”
“No. But you have a reputation for being stubborn and demanding sometimes. Though I doubt that’s why. There’s professional jealousy, of course. That Donald guy comes to mind. He’s a real piece of work.”
“You mentioned him to the officers, and we looked into it. There’s no evidence to prove that the money came from him. And you said it wasn’t his voice. While I’m not discounting it, I think this is more than that. This is downright hate. Someone’s door is a little off its hinges, and for whatever reason, they blame you.” James sighed.
“Tell Dad what you told me before dinner,” Obie said.
“That was freshman year,” Bri countered. “And I never hurt him. I just feel bad because I never stopped it.” He wished he’d kept his big mouth shut.
“Why don’t you tell me,” James said.
“Because it can’t have anything to do with this,” Bri said. “And….” Damn it all. He hated revealing shit like this about himself. He turned to Obie, almost not able to believe that he’d betrayed him that way.
“It’s okay. Dad isn’t going to judge you. Just tell him what you’ve told me. It may help. We don’t really know, and he needs all the facts. I know it’s hard, but no one can help if they don’t know the facts. He wants to help, and so do I,” Obie added just above a whisper.
Bri couldn’t argue with those beseeching eyes, and reminded himself that he wanted to have courage and this was part of it. Girding his loins, so to speak, he told James what had happened and why he felt guilty. James listened without asking questions until the end. “What was Willy’s full name? Can you remember?”
“William Hamel. He was from Johnstown. I remember that. I think he went there. I know he never returned to school.” Bri lowered his gaze. “I probably should have asked after him.”
James nodded, and when Bri raised his gaze, he found James staring at him. “Did you like Willy? In the way you like my son?”
Bri swallowed and nodded. “I think that’s why I kept watching him. But I was afraid to say anything or act on it.”
“Let me ask you this. Do you think Willy blamed you for what happened?” James asked, his eyes reminding Bri of Obie’s in some ways. Bri kept expecting judgment, but saw compassion and understanding.
“How could he? I know this is guilt on my part. I wish I had been strong enough to do something about it. There are plenty of stories—books are full of them—of people doing the right thing to help someone else. I wish I’d had the guts to try then. That’s all.”
Obie patted his hand. “You aren’t alone,” James said. “I have done many things in my life that I’m not proud of. It’s what we do when we’re young. Let me look further into this and see if it leads anywhere. I’ll also check out your other teammates as well. It can’t hurt.” He paused. “I’ve looked into the people close to you and found nothing. There is no one truly suspicious, which makes me nervous.”
“Why, Dad?” Obie asked.
“Most hatred comes from people that we have contact with regularly, ones we have a chance to hurt, a buildup of animosity that festers over time. That’s why we look at the family first when anyone is murdered. Like on television, husbands and wives are the usual killers, as are children and even parents. But I haven’t found anything. So I’m casting a wider net.”
“What about that girl you told me about?” Obie said. “You said she always blamed you. Why don’t you tell Dad about what happened back then too?”
James sat back, and Obie hurried away, returning with a tray and mugs of coffee. Bri figured what the hell and told James every one of the stories he’d imparted to Obie. It felt like airing years of dirty laundry and shame. Bri wondered what James thought of him by the time he was done.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” James asked as he consulted his notes and then drank the last of the coffee.
“No. Unless I have a stalker who’s just found out some things he or she didn’t like,” Bri offered.
“That is a possibility. But it complicates things a great deal. Of course, if you see anyone acting funny around you, or feel as though you’re being watched, call right away. Don’t confront them yourselves. This person has already proven themselves capable of doing some major damage.”
“We know, Dad. We’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Did you get anything off the phone?”
“We’re still working on it. If you receive any phone calls, let us know immediately, preferably while they are on the line. We have cloned it and hope we can get some information out of it.”
“But you said that’s a long shot, right?” Obie asked, and James nodded as Bri’s phone rang. He stiffened and looked at it, catching James’s gaze before answering. But when he picked up, there was no one there. At least the line was active, but after saying hello a couple of times and getting no answer, he hung up.
“That was interesting.” Bri explained and handed the phone to James. The number didn’t match any that had called before. “I get calls occasionally from telemarketers with those damned clicks that let you know the call is automated. It could be one of those.”
“Possibly, but they usually have someone come on the line if you wait.” James handed the phone back. “We’ll have a record of the call. Just be careful, and if he contacts you, let me know right away. We’ll try to trace the call while it’s active. So keep him talking if you can and ask why he’s doing this. What did you ever do to him? Those sorts of questions. We may get a nugget of information that we can use. There is also the possibility that he wants to talk.”
Bri didn’t think that was particularly probable, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll do my best.”
“Of course we will, Pop,” Obie said.
“I could put someone here in the house to keep an eye on both of you,” James offered again.
Obie hesitated, but Bri wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “Someone else who will draw attention to us. Right now, very few people know where I am, and I’d like to keep it that way. I think Obie and I are safest if I just remain out of sight.”
“All right, but be careful. If I knew what this person wanted, I’d counter it, but I’m at a loss. All we know is that he or she wants to hurt you.” James got up, and Obie did the same, slowly walking with him to the door.
“We’ll be okay, Dad. I have my gun upstairs and I know how to use it. You made sure of that,” Obie said. Bri didn’t know if that soothed his dad or made him even more nervous. “So don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves.” He opened the door, and Bri stayed back, letting the two of them say goodbye. Once Obie closed the door, he sighed and started cleaning up the dishes.
“A gun…?” Bri asked.
Obie turned as though Bri had just asked the dumbest question possible. “I am the son of the police commissioner, a cop who has seen everything low and dirty this city can churn out. As soon as I graduated from high school, Dad took me to a gun range, taught me how to shoot, and drilled everything he knew into my head about safety, storage, cleaning, and usage of a gun. He made sure I was a damn good shot and then he bought me a Luger. I am deadly accurate with it and go to the gun range once a month to ensure I stay that way.” His eyes held a darkness Bri had never seen in them before, and h
e wasn’t sure if it scared him or turned him on. “I’m going to be safe in my own home.” Obie went back to finishing up the dishes, got the dishwasher running, and then poured Bri another coffee. “It’s decaf, so you’ll be able to sleep.”
“Did your dad know that?”
Obie shook his head. “God, no. Dad drinks this godawful stuff that I swear can stand on its own. It’s awful, but he exists on it half the time. So when he comes here, I make good coffee, decaf, and he thinks it’s great. And tonight, he isn’t going to be up half the night.”
“You’re sneaky.”
“Yes, probably, but I worry about him. He spends way too much time at work and he doesn’t take any time for himself. Lord knows the last time he had a date. I wish he would do something, anything, for himself. But he says he’s happy….” Obie rolled his eyes dramatically. “I just want him to take better care of himself.”
“Your dad is an adult and he can take care of himself, I’m sure.” Bri winked. “Besides, how do you know he doesn’t have a string of lady friends? It isn’t like your dad is likely to tell you about his bedroom activities… unless he gets serious about someone.”
Obie screwed his face up in distaste. “I want Dad to be happy, but I don’t want to hear about his bedroom prowess.” He shivered, and Bri grinned at the melodrama. Obie could make him smile, that was for certain. “Why don’t we see if we can find something frivolous to watch on television.”
Bri nodded and checked his phone. There was a message about a team meeting the following morning, and another one from the insurance adjuster wanting to meet at the house. “What time is your first appointment?”
“Eight. I have an early one,” Obie answered with a yawn. They got up and settled together on the sofa. They ended up watching Big Bang Theory reruns with Obie leaning against him and Bri eventually extending his arm around him, just like in high school. It was nice, and each time he inhaled, Bri got a strong whiff of Obie’s sweet yet musky scent, which drove him crazy and pushed at the boundaries of his self-restraint.
“I should go on up to bed,” Bri said softly as his control dipped to a low ebb. He was seconds from pushing Obie back against the cushions and tasting the man in every way possible. Instead, he got to his feet—a little unsteadily—and, using his crutches, went up to bed, wishing he wasn’t going to be alone.
“I SAW him with that man again!” I smile in delight. This could be good. Really good. “Maybe I can take them both out at the same time. I’ll make Bri watch as his lover fades away. Then he’ll be sorry.”
Chapter 10
OBIE WOKE three or four times in the night, just like he had for the last three nights. Most of the time, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to get to sleep, but ended up getting up to have some water or use the bathroom. Eventually he fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later. Sometimes, he had no idea what woke him, but then he’d hear the creak of one of the floorboards in the hall and he knew Bri was up and awake. Then his body went on alert, and he listened as Bri closed the bathroom door. He actually wondered if he should wander out, but rolled over instead and tried to go back to sleep. It was his idea to take things slow and be professional in his dealings with Bri. Sometimes he really was a stupid ass. Obie sighed. He’d made his bed and now he had to lie in it… alone.
After rolling over, he fell asleep at some point, waking at first light feeling as though he’d been run over by a steamroller. Getting out of bed, he yawned and groaned when he stretched. Maybe he needed to take some of his own advice and spend more time getting his own body in order. Once he dressed, Obie went down to the studio, laid a mat on the floor, and spent some time stretching and doing some mind- and body-centering yoga. He needed to put Bri out of his head for a while and try to find some kind of inner peace.
It was elusive. His head and body did not want to go in the same direction. Or maybe it was his head and heart that were at war. Obie stretched his back and legs, shifting into a downward dog pose, holding it and breathing deeply. It wasn’t working—nothing was.
“I made a light breakfast,” Bri said. Obie lowered his body only to find Bri staring at him from the doorway. He stifled a groan at the heat in Bri’s gaze and reached for his towel. “And I called for a driver to come pick me up,” Bri continued. “The adjuster has finally decided to show up today. I need to be at the house in an hour.” Obie must have been wet, and he didn’t move as Bri took the towel and wiped off his cheeks and the back of his neck.
“I have appointments, so I can’t go with you.”
“I’ll be fine. The driver doesn’t know who I am, and he may recognize me, but….” Bri shrugged. “I’ll get home, meet this guy, and then come back. It shouldn’t be a particularly big deal.”
Obie didn’t like it. “Are you sure this guy is for real?” The thought that there was someone out there who wanted to hurt Bri was always foremost in his mind.
“I’ll be okay. And I should be back in plenty of time for our appointment this afternoon. Come get some breakfast, and then you can clean up in time for your first client.” Bri waited for him to leave the studio and followed him to the kitchen.
“Are you watching my butt?” Obie asked, whirling around and catching Bri in the act. “You are….” He wiggled it back and forth. “May as well give you something really good to look at.” He laughed as he twerked, nearly falling over as Bri growled from behind him. Obie barely made it to the kitchen standing up, flopping into one of the chairs, laughing. Bri sat down, scowling at him, and Obie laughed harder. “What?” For some reason, this whole thing hit him as funny. It was either that or scream in frustration. Yes, this had been his idea, but it wasn’t working out very well.
“You’re not being nice.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He got control of himself. “I haven’t slept well for the last few days and I think I’m a little punch-drunk.” He breathed deeply and took a piece of toast from the plate. “When will your car be here?”
“Ten minutes,” Bri answered curtly.
“Hey, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Bri set down his mug with a thud. “This shit is hard,” he said softly. “You’re in the next room, and I know I promised and all, but it’s hard knowing you’re there and that I need to keep my hands—and everything else—to myself.”
“It’s only for a few more weeks. By then, your knee is going to be in great shape and you’re not going to need me anymore.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Bri said in a gruff whisper that hung in the air around him. “I have the feeling that I’m going to need you for quite a while.” His half-lidded eyes were banked with fire. It sent a wave of heat through Obie, and he swallowed his toast, gulping a mouthful of juice as he looked at the clock.
“I need to get ready for my next appointment,” Obie said, ready to race out of the room.
“Can I have a kiss?” Bri asked, trying to look innocent. Obie paused and turned back, approaching Bri and leaning down. Bri slipped his hot, slightly rough hands around the back of Obie’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss that damn near buckled Obie’s knees. He gave himself over to it, ready to say “what the hell” and just go with whatever Bri wanted. His mind clouded with lust and aching need, and his willpower hung on by a thread. Bri backed away first. “You should get ready for your client.” He slipped his hand away, running his fingers over Obie’s cheek, slowly, gently, teasing out the touch the way he’d tugged his lips before finally pulling away.
Obie couldn’t move for a second, blinking, his mind short-circuiting. “Yeah.” He licked his lips, and Bri stood.
“My car will be here in just a minute.”
Obie nodded, watching breathlessly as Bri grabbed his keys and wallet and slowly moved to the front door. Only when it closed did Obie grasp the back of the nearest chair, his chest heaving, swearing under his breath that he had to be the dumbest person on the face of the earth. He had a man like Bri, sex on a tall, muscular, hot-as-hell stick, and
he was holding him at arm’s length because of… “Professional ethics,” Obie said out loud. He wasn’t a doctor, but he was in the health-care profession, and it was important to maintain a professional distance. He had already crossed the line, but he didn’t want to stray too far. Otherwise he was going to have to refer Bri to another therapist. And not to blow his own horn, but he was the best. After all, Bri was getting so much better.
He hurried upstairs and sat on the edge of the bed, checking the time once again. He figured he had ten minutes, so he picked up the phone. “Chippy, I need your help,” he said as soon as his friend answered.
“Sounds serious,” Chippy said without any of his usual flippancy.
“It is.” He told him about what he and Bri had done and what he was afraid of. “I know what you and David said before, but this is serious.”
“Okay. I could give you all the shit in the world over this one, but in all seriousness, I think the oldest advice is the best. If you wait until he’s healed, and things are still hot between you, then go for it, full-on, no holds barred. Take the man to heaven and back as many times as you can. Do your best imitation of rabbits. But waiting isn’t going to kill either one of you. And before you ask, if he won’t wait, then he isn’t worth your time.” Chippy was so serious, Obie didn’t know what to think. He kept expecting a joke to follow. “Stop worrying. He looks at you like you’re a casino buffet and he walked ten miles to get there.”
“I know. But it seems sort of stupid to wait when it seems like something we both want,” Obie said.
“Okay. So what if he becomes your lover, and your client, and you have to give him bad news—is it going to be easier? Will you be distracted? Well, more than you already are. I’d say you’re already in a relationship with this man and that you should probably back away now, except he needs you.” Leave it to Chippy to lay it all out in black and white. “Be careful and go slowly. Give both of you some time. You’ve already got the man living with you.”