by Trina Lane
“What?”
“You keep saying that. So anyway, I contacted the bank as the head of the newly formed Synder Foundation for Asset Restitution and provided them with the documentation, obtained by Wilhelm, and a court order necessary to release the funds.”
“The Synder who?”
“Okay, so I’m not above using my family name to open a few doors. At first, they said no, since a US court order has no real power in a British overseas territory, but it helped that this particular bank knows my family because we’ve also got assets invested with them. I might have casually mentioned that we would withdraw our funds and take them someplace else if they didn’t comply.”
“Wait, would you really have done that?”
Tyler grinned. “Well, no. It’s not my money so much as the family’s and part of the corporation’s. But they didn’t know that or didn’t look that far into it, anyway. So long story short—”
“Too late.”
Tyler slid a piece of paper across the table. “Here is the register information and balance. You can contact them to transfer the funds into the account you opened when you got home.”
“Wait a minute. Even if the money was stolen from me, the account was in Luca’s name. So wouldn’t his assets get distributed to his next of kin or whatever?”
“We contacted Agent Yang and she unofficially told us that Luca doesn’t have any surviving relatives that are in a position to make a claim and the bank does not have a beneficiary on file for the balance in the event of his death.”
Javier’s hand shook as he slid the paper across the table. He couldn’t believe Tyler had gathered a crew and they’d gone to so much effort. Wilhelm, the attorney, had already gone to bat for Javier with the Feds, so it no longer seemed that he’d defaulted on his student loans from graduate school. Fortunately, they were now in deferment until he got another job, but every day more interest was building up. It wasn’t as if Javier had been rolling in cash before his disappearance, but he’d had an income and small savings account. Right now, he was living off his disability income with the additional benevolence of the Synders. And as much as he acknowledged that he wouldn’t have been able to survive the last couple of months without their help, it also significantly bit into his ego. To have something, even one little thing, from his old life back felt monumental. He opened the paper and gasped.
“Tyler, what the fuck? I didn’t have this kind of money!”
“Yeah, I suspected that might be the case. Otherwise PTs make a whole lot more money than I thought. Wilhelm and our helpful friend suspected that this account was a holding pen for all the victims’ assets, plus his own investments. The problem is we have no way of determining what money belonged to whom. We were not privy to the details of the FBI’s investigation. So maybe they could match up deposit dates with timelines of the other victims, but from my perspective, the ball is really in your court what to do with it.”
He couldn’t take all of it. There was no way. Just because the others had died didn’t mean that he should be awarded for surviving.
“Maybe I can contact Agent Yang and ask her what the right thing to do is? The last thing I want is some family member finding out then coming after me for liability. You think she’d tell me the names of the others or maybe she can contact their families and we can work something out?”
“I think that would be very gracious of you. I would suggest you don’t get directly involved with any money transfers. Contact Wilhelm and ask him about setting up some kind of trust or something. Now I hate to cut this visit short, but I have a mare that could drop at any moment, a partner who if left alone for too long will forget to feed himself, and a two-and-a-half-hour drive ahead of me.”
Javier stood and wrapped his arms around Tyler. “Thank you.”
Tyler gave Javier a strong pat on the back. “You’re welcome. And since I didn’t say it earlier, it’s good to see you on your own two feet.”
“Yeah, Malaki is amazing. Might even give me a run for my money as the best physical therapist in town.”
“Uh-huh. But you don’t feel anything other than professional respect towards the man. Oh, and about the other therapist, I’m glad you’re getting help. Malaki wasn’t the only one who noticed the changes, you know. We just didn’t really know how to talk about it, without talking about it. You know?”
“I know. You can promise Brandon that he doesn’t need keep checking on me every day.”
“Yeah, like he ever listens to me.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he listens sometimes. I’m not the only one with a voice that can get people to come at my command.”
Tyler winked as he walked away.
Javier blew out a breath. He had Agent Yang’s contact info back at his apartment, but there was one number he knew by heart. He’d talked a big game about taking back his life, but in reality he’d been scared of how people would treat him after finding out what had happened to him. There was only one way to find out.
He took out his phone and dialed. The ringing gave him just enough time to reconsider his resolve.
“Hello?”
“Ev…Everett? Hey, I…um, how are you?”
“Holy fuck, Javier? Where are you?”
“I’m at the Coffee House Café in North Dallas.”
“Do not move. Henry and I are on our way.”
It was Monday and the club was closed. Normally Everett and Henry reserved the day for themselves, and while he was under no obligations to follow Everett’s command, he found himself sitting in his chair and ordering another iced coffee.
It only took about twenty minutes before Everett’s car pulled up right outside the café’s patio. He stood as his friends exited the vehicle. At first glance, both Everett and Henry looked the same, but there were subtle differences. Tiny worry lines ran across Everett’s forehead and Henry’s bright complexion didn’t have its usual rosy undertones.
“Sir, I can’t believe it’s you. Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you,” Henry blurted.
Javier took a hasty step back as Henry practically bounced his way over from the car with his arms outstretched. Henry’s face fell and Javier felt about two inches tall. He’d never shied away from the man’s habitual enthusiastic greetings before, but for some reason he panicked at the thought of being wrapped in Henry’s long arms.
He smiled. “Hey. Umm, sorry. I didn’t mean anything. It’s really great to see you guys.”
Everett took Henry’s hand and he immediately gravitated towards his partner. Everett didn’t try to approach him, and he actually felt disappointed.
You’re a giant fucking mess.
Three of them sat down and silence enveloped the table. Javier cleared his throat, unsure how to start the explanation that Everett and Henry deserved.
“Okay, enough stalling. You’re going to tell us where in the hell you’ve been.”
“It’s a rather—”
“Do you know that we searched every hovel and high-end hideout for weeks? You told Henry you’d be coming back, and yet your car haunted my parking lot until it mysteriously disappeared three weeks later. It was then that I figured it was safe to assume that the man I thought was my friend was really an unprecedented twat.”
“You looked for me too?”
“Of course we looked, you arsemonger! In fact, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you’d simply became a ghost, I still called every owner of a public club in the US asking if you’d registered as a member. Some of them even gave me tips on private invite only organizations in their area. But after calling in every favor I was owed there was still no sign of you. It was like you disappeared into a black hole.”
“That’s not actually far from the truth. Except the black hole was actually a concrete cell.”
“You went to prison? For what? And if that was the case, why did some tall cowboy come looking for you?” Henry asked.
“Not prison, no. I…I was taken.” He inhaled and let
out the breath slowly then recounted his experiences since last October. As he spoke, Everett’s expression turned harder and Henry’s went from simply pale to a grayish green. Their hands locked together and while he didn’t tell them everything, he told them enough, and quite frankly more than he’d shared with Tyler and Brandon.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” Everett growled.
He looked his friends in the eyes. This was a moment of truth.
“I did.”
The only thing Javier heard was the clinking of the utensils from other diners on the patio and the whoosh of an occasional car passing by. He found himself holding his breath, waiting for the verdict.
Is this what it would have felt like if the DA prosecuted me for murder?
Had life gone another way, would he be sitting behind a table waiting to hear the decision from a jury instead of at a café sipping an iced latte? He had a feeling the clammy sweat dripping under his collar would be the same.
“I’m glad, Sir.”
Javier studied Henry’s eyes. There was never an emotion the man had been able to hide in the most guileless pair of green eyes Javier had ever seen. There was no fear or disgust evident in Henry’s gaze. He glanced over at Everett, who was harder to read. Everett had been in the right to read him the riot act based on their knowledge, but now that the entire narrative had changed, how would his and Everett’s friendship evolve? Would there still even be a friendship? Everett’s expression didn’t give anything away, but his body language remained open, something Javier took as a good sign. Everett gave the slightest of nods and a rush of relief swept through him so fast he got a little dizzy.
“Henry, I know your training has you using that term as a way of respect towards me as a Dom.” Henry nodded. Javier didn’t want to hurt the sub’s feelings or confuse him. “I don’t know if my future lies with the BDSM community any longer, or at least in the same way as I was. Will you do me the honor of addressing me as Javier, from this point forward?”
Henry looked to Everett and the silent communication between the two of them conveyed more than a dictionary full of words. Everett nodded and Henry’s eyes held that familiar glow of happiness once again.
“I’ll do my best to remember.”
“Thank you. Now tell me all about what the two of you have been up to and all the good gossip.”
“Oh my, we’re going to need something more than iced coffee.” Henry cheered.
* * * *
Javier pulled open the door to the rehab facility. It was a big day. The dog days of August were upon them, and he was officially ten weeks post-op. Malaki had scheduled his first sports assessment for today. Javier might not be a full-time athlete anymore, but his primary goal was to get back into the kind of shape he’d been before his ordeal. He needed to have the endurance and strength to work with clients again.
“Hey, Bethany, what kind of tortures does he have for me today?”
“Only the best kind. I promise.” She winked.
Out of the corner of his eye, Javier saw Malaki raise one eyebrow. Javier’s question had been entirely innocent, but once the innuendo came out he did his level best not to look directly at Malaki. He didn’t want the man to think he and Bethany had been gossiping about him in an inappropriate way.
“If I’ve done my job right, then you’ll be gasping for breath and have sweat dripping from your body. Your heart will be racing, and you’ll look at me with a perfect blend of hate and appreciation.”
And cue the mental porno.
It wasn’t until he and Malaki were halfway across the floor that the realization hit that he’d just been joking about being tortured. He looked down at his left forearm, where the raised lines of one of the branding scars testified to his knowledge of real torture.
“Hey? You okay?”
He found his feet cemented to the floor. Malaki glanced around the room then came over and stood so close that Javier was forced to look up at him. His dark eyes held remorse, but Javier liked it much better when they were bright with happiness.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He looked down at Javier’s arm. “The patches seem to be helping with the scar tissue.”
Malaki’s soft voice floated over the top of his head and Javier caught his breath. A shiver raced through his body and he became lightheaded for a moment.
Holy shit no, we are not going there!
“You didn’t do anything wrong. And thank you for the tip about the patches. I’m not sure how much of the improvement is from them or just natural healing, but they seem to be better. And you know I stopped cold, because it hit me that I didn’t think either. Kind of cool, right?”
Malaki started to reach for Javier, but stopped before they touched. “Yeah.” Malaki cleared his throat and stepped back. “So, ready to get to work?”
“I’m under your command.”
Shit. Stop perving on your therapist.
Malaki mumbled something as he walked toward the stationary bike, but Javier didn’t catch it.
“So, let’s do your usual ten-minute warm-up on the bike. Then I’ve got everything set up for your test.”
“Sounds good.” Javier climbed up on the bike and set the program. “So, how’s everything going here?”
Malaki looked around. “I never talk about business stuff with a client.”
Right. These aren’t my coworkers and friends anymore. I’m just another chart number.
“But it’s different with you.”
Oops. Pity party table of one, please.
“Sarah quit.”
“What!” Javier lost his footing on the bike and winced at the slight torque to his knee.
“Yeah. She just came in the other day and said she’d been recruited by a subcontractor for the VA doing compensation and pension exams. She basically said that she was getting more money for only working three days a week.”
Javier whistled softly. He’d been the one to hire Sarah only a few months before he’d been taken. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. I mean, I get it she has to do what’s right for her family. She does have two kids, and I know it’s been tough on her trying to balance being a manager and a parent. But I can’t help but feel like we’re getting dumped.”
“When’s her last day?” He should at least wish her luck.
“Two weeks from now.”
“Jesus, nothing like giving the company enough time to find a replacement.”
Malaki smiled. “Yeah. So, want your old job back?”
Javier whipped his head around so fast he almost feared he’d be coming to see Malaki for a whiplash injury next. The idea of working again doing what he loved was the biggest carrot Malaki had been dangling in front of him for weeks. But he knew he wasn’t ready.
“Umm…how about you?”
“Me?”
“Sure, why not? You’re a great therapist.” Javier held out his arms and kept peddling. “Obviously. It seems like everybody around here respects you. I know you’re smart enough. I mean, Bethany’s always saying under her breath, ‘WWMD’.”
“WWMD?”
“Yeah. What would Malaki do?”
His heart fluttered a little at Malaki’s deep laugh.
“Well, in all likelihood, Vista will send a manager from another location.”
Javier shrugged. “Maybe, but I still think you should submit. I mean, you’ve been a PT for how long now?”
“Well, let’s see…what year is it?”
“I think it’s 2017. Unless I’ve managed to lose several months of time again.”
“Not to worry. I’ve been keeping a careful eye on you.”
Have you, now?
“Okay. Let’s do the math. I spent eight years in San Diego, then three years in Washington and the last four years I’ve had a bit of wanderlust as a traveling PT.”
“Wow. Are you still under contract with the traveling agency? Because that would make a difference.”
“No. My last job was here in Dallas and I
found that I liked the city. So when this full-time position was posted, I applied and was thrilled to get it.”
Javier did the math and realized that Malaki was older than he’d thought.
“I still think you should submit your name for consideration.”
“Tell you what, I’ll think about it. Now, let’s get you over to the Airex pad. Your first task is a stability test.”
Javier climbed off the bike and rubbed his hands together. “Bring it on.”
Chapter Six
Javier sat in front of his laptop with a beer, staring at the screen. His résumé stared back at him in black and white. He’d passed his test with flying colors. His talk with Malaki and his most recent session with his therapist had really made him realize that he was ready to get back to work. He didn’t want the stress of a management position again, not yet, but craved the challenge of getting a person back to their daily routine.
In the two months since Javier had contacted the bank in the Caymans, the money had made a big difference in him regaining his independence, but it didn’t feel right relying on ill-gotten gains. His knee was strong enough for light-to-moderate activity. And he had his functional brace, if more strenuous activity was required. After spending an afternoon searching for jobs online, he’d narrowed down the options to his top choices. Now, it was just a matter of sending out his résumé and hoping one of the facilities responded with interest. His phone vibrated beside him, and he looked down but didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, what are doing?”
“Malaki? How did you get my number?” Right—he’s got all my information at his fingertips. “Never mind. Stupid question. I’m sitting here trying to find opportunities to be a productive citizen again. You?”
“I’m sitting here looking at apartments and thought local might help me narrow down a good area that won’t destroy my budget.”
“You want to move?”
“The place I’ve been staying only had a short-term lease. When I was doing the traveling gig, it was perfect, but since I’ve decided to stay, I’m going to need some permanent digs.”