- 19 Trial by Fire
Bull lifted his left leg to place his ankle on his knee. He and Gregory were supposed to have a date, but Gregory got a call that a package of documents needed for the next day hadn’t been delivered for the court date only a few days away.
“I’m so sorry about this.”
Gregory apologized for the tenth time but didn’t take his eyes off the screen. The shipping confirmation said the package made it to its destination, but the lawyer was saying it hadn’t. Gregory couldn’t exactly argue with the time sensitive situation.
It didn’t bother him. He was just happy to get an evening with Gregory without a houseful of asshole brats. Even if that time was sitting in front of Gregory’s desk while the man worked. It wasn’t like Gregory hadn’t sat on a barstool plenty since he’d moved in.
“Quit apologizing, if we don’t make our reservation we’ll pop into the diner for dinner. Stop stressing and just work.”
He raised his hand to brace his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin his palm and scratched his beard. It was the first time he’d come to work with Gregory, and he couldn’t see the man sitting behind a desk. Gregory just seemed more comfortable curled up on the couch at home as he tapped away at his keyboard. He preferred when Gregory was home.
It wasn’t any secret he knew Arnold had continued to make a nuisance of himself. He understood Gregory could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he had to like that his man was keeping secrets. He wouldn’t deny he was a possessive bastard when it came to Gregory. His attempts to curb it failed. To be honest, he was waiting for the day Gregory got sick of him.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and repeated, try not to be an asshole, trying not to be an asshole. It had never worked, but it was worth a try.
“You want coffee,” he asked.
He didn’t want any but staring at Gregory, and all he wanted to do was spread the man out on Gregory’s desk. Two weeks and he’d barely let Gregory out of their bed. And it was their bed. Gregory hadn’t gone back to the guest room since the first night.
“Yes, please. Not as strong as you like though, please.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Tea it is.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
He laughed as he stood and leaned across the desk to kiss Gregory’s cute pout. Lingering wasn’t an option, if he did, he would be where he’d tried to avoid. Gregory’s sexy frame bent over. He’d forget dinner in a heartbeat.
He exited the office and made his way through the main room to the kitchenette in the back. The place was small, and he’d been there a few times. He pulled open cabinets until he found the coffee. He snarled his nose. The brand wasn’t Gregory’s favorite, but he doubted Gregory would drink more than a few sips.
He quickly started a pot brewing and leaned back against the counter to wait. He heard footsteps in the main room. Gregory had gone back and forth between the file room and his office a dozen times since they’d arrived. He might just take Gregory home and find something there, take-out was also an option. The coffee pot made its last gurgle, and he inhaled the rich scent of coffee, it wasn’t as strong as he liked but what was he going to do?
With two mugs poured, one doctored with a ton of sugar and milk, he carried them back to Gregory. He entered just as the printer ceased and Gregory was gathering the papers.
“Here, drink this.”
Gregory grabbed the bottom of the mug and brought it to his mouth.
“Thank you,” Gregory sighed. “And it’s not strong enough to strip paint. Aw, you’re so sweet.”
He playfully growled as Gregory set the papers aside and tweaked his beard.
“You need a trim.” Gregory threw out the comment and went right back to work.
“The long, beard not working for you.”
“You know I love it, so shut up.”
“Someone’s cranky.”
Bull turned up his mug and took a few swallows as he tried not to laugh at what Gregory probably assumed was an intimidating look. It was too fucking cute.
“Someone needs to let me sleep.”
“Quit looking so fucking sexy in my bed when I get home at night.”
“I believe you told me that would be impossible.”
“True. Your parents still leaving tomorrow?”
“Subtle subject change, Archer. Yes, I know how it’ll pain you to see my mother go.”
“I’m just thinking of her safety. Aggie is making herself a little too at home in Twitch’s kitchen. She also let Pinkie loose, and it took us two days to find him.”
“She said she was sorry.”
“Yeah, but Twitch hates his routine fucked up and she cooked in his kitchen.”
“I told her—”
“It’s fine, just saying.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I warned you, Bull.”
“I know, I know, just finish work so we can get out of here…please.”
“Fine.”
He tried to repress a grin because Gregory was cute as fuck when he was all petulant and shit. He downed another swallow of his coffee and sat down. He leaned forward to place the mug on the edge of Gregory’s desk.
Gregory had a point though, they needed more sleep, or at least he did. He’d waited so long to make Gregory’s his maybe he needed to knock down his possessive tendencies a bit. Lifting his hands, he rubbed his suddenly tired eyes and then scrubbed his hands over his face.
His head felt too heavy, and it started to droop back. Gregory turned blurry like a mirage floating in the distance.
“Maybe we should just…” He frowned as his words slurred.
It was as if he were drunk, his limbs felt cumbersome, and his head floated above his shoulders. His tongue stuck to his palette. He attempted to reach for his coffee, his fingers were useless as he tried to pick up the cup.
“Greg…”
Gregory slumped over his keyboard. He pushed to his feet as he tried to call Gregory’s name again. The world spun, he went down on his knees, but where pain should’ve exploded, there was nothing. His brain no longer worked and he could see the floor coming toward him as he collapsed. The last thing he remembered was his cheek meeting carpet.
# # #
The stench of gasoline and heat hit him first, then his chest burned as he drew in another lungful of smoke. He tried to push up, but his body wasn’t cooperating.
“If you don’t get your fucking ass up, I’m going to fucking leave you here.”
Hunter's voice caused him to open his eyes and pain exploded in his head. Worse than any hangover he had ever had. That’s when everything registered, and he tried to go into fight mode, but his body just wouldn’t listen. He rolled over to his back, and it seemed to take all the strength he had.
“What the fuck—”
“The ex is attempting to murder you.” The words were broken by harsh hacking coughs.
“Gregory?”
“He’s over there.”
“Get him the fuck out.”
“What about—”
“I don’t give a fuck about me, get him out.” He weakly pushed at Hunter’s legs to get the man moving.
Thankfully, Hunter disappeared and reappeared seconds later with an unconscious Gregory limp in his arms.
“Go,” he yelled.
“I’ll come—”
“You won’t do shit, stay with my man, go,” he ordered.
His relief was short lived at Gregory being carried from the office. He laid there, panic quickly surfaced in his brain. Flames shimmered up the walls and danced along the ceiling, he glanced toward the open door. The scene was the same in the outer room. Smoke burned his eyes and tears flowed down his temples.
He reached for the edge of the desk and the overturned chair, he pulled only to fall back to the floor. The ceiling cracked, and beams creaked above him, he wasn’t going to live if he didn’t get moving and soon. He rolled back to his stomach, walking was out, so, he’d have to crawl. He used his hands to dig into the thick carpet.
Mere feet away seemed like miles. He hissed as a chunk of ceiling landed on his back. He jerked dislodging it, but he knew from the pain he hadn’t moved quick enough to save himself from a burn. The sluggishness that infused his body only moments before disappeared in a rush of adrenaline. He struggled to his feet, his steps unsteady and he swayed as he raised his arms to try to protect his eyes from smoke and debris.
He was suddenly on his knees again. He’d remember the pain anywhere, someone took a bat or pipe to the backs of his knees.
“You couldn’t fucking leave well enough alone, you had to take him. Brainwashed him.”
Arnold. He darted a look over his shoulder and found the man tightly gripping an aluminum bat. Fucking moron, wood was the way to go if you wanted maximum damage.
“You beat him. Fucking locked him in a closet. You didn’t—”
Lightweight or not, air whooshed from his already singed lungs as the metal landed sharply on his side. Agony moved through him and knew he had a least a few cracked ribs, badly bruised if he were lucky. He wasn’t that fucking lucky.
“All he had to do was listen. Now, you’ve ruined my plan again. He was supposed to die. If I can’t—”
“You gonna die in here too.”
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were gone. Then I can get my husband to come home. Killing you will be even better than I planned.”
“Fuck you—”
He focused, the momentum of the bat slowed, and he lifted his arm to block the first shot. Bones broke, and he hollered through clenched teeth. He cradled his arm against his chest, and as he tried to block the next blow, he didn’t make it in time. It landed on the side of his head. The echo of metal meeting bone, the hiss of flame, and the creaking of wood joined together. His head swam, and wetness trickled down and tickled the shell of his ear.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”
He made a fruitless attempt to grab Arnold with his good hand but missed when the man stepped back. Arnold disappeared in a break between flames. He couldn’t leave Gregory. He loved him. Arnold would break the man Bull came to love. He’d crawl from the fucking building. He didn’t give a fuck what it took.
“Bull,” Hunter called out.
“I told you to fucking stay—”
“Gregory frightens me more than you. Get the fuck up.”
Hunter hauled him too quickly to his feet, and the world dimmed, became nothing more than flame and ash before the words faded.