TWO
The flight out of the city was unexpected. Micah had little time to prepare. He left the hotel in the early morning. The driver still on hand to see him safely to the airport. His tickets waited at check in. Gideon had arranged everything, right down to paying out his lease and having someone send Micah the things he requested from his apartment. Which wasn’t much. The place was just someplace to sleep. He didn’t even own the furniture. Just his clothes and some personal items.
Micah let the driver kiss him good-bye at the airport. He wasn’t in the service anymore, what did it matter. “Next time you’re in town, give me a call and we’ll get together,” the driver said, slipping his card in Micah’s pocket after he slipped his tongue in Micah’s mouth.
“Off the clock?” Micah should have kept his mouth shut. But he needed to know if it was a paid thing or not.
“Off. Of course.” He winked and that was the last Micah saw of him.
He made it through check in with only minutes to get to his gate. The flight was blessedly short. Only two hours. An almost duplicate driver waited on the other side and this time Micah didn’t look under the hat.
“Can we stop for breakfast on the way?” Micah’s stomach started bitching about twenty minutes after take-off. He was in the wrong time-zone and out of sorts.
“Of course, Mr. Beasley. Any preferences?” The driver almost sounded like what’s his name from last night.
“Something drive-thru. Surprise me. Just food. I don’t care.”
Micah dropped into the backseat of the Town Car and slumped back. God, he was fucking exhausted. What’s his name had worn him out. He wondered if Gideon hired him because the man could fuck all damned night long. He wondered what orders Gideon had given this driver. He wondered why the hell he was doing this. He didn’t actually need the money. At least not right now. Maybe in a couple of years after some serious carousing…yeah, he could use that much money, but not now.
“The drive is approximately ninety minutes. The staff is expecting you at noon. If you need more time please let me know.” The driver stated and they were off. No muss, no fuss, no offer for a parking garage tryst to welcome him to town.
He ordered a breakfast sandwich, hash browns and a huge coffee. The driver choosing only coffee at the stop and that’s the last either of them spoke.
Micah leaned back for a nap and the mumbling of the driver woke him up some time later. He’d planned to pay attention to the drive out. Noting the route and all of the roads around. He’d been too damned tired. And too full.
And then they were winding through property landscaped within an inch of its life. The house sat far back away from the main highway. So far back that it took ten minutes to reach the circular drive in front of what looked to be a mini castle instead of the gaudy brick mansion Micah had envisioned when Gideon called the place an estate. It was an estate all right. For Henry fucking Tudor.
“We’re here, Mr. Beasley. I’ll bring your bags up.” The driver was apparently part and parcel of this whole deal. He didn’t blink an eye at the edifice that had Micah speechless. “Rochfort will see you to your room and then you’ll be taken to meet Mr. Auberon.”
A man dressed in formal attire stood by the massive front door waiting for Micah to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Guess that’s Rochfort, don’t tell me, he’s the butler.”
The driver laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of ridiculous. It’s not as if anyone ever comes here. And Kit doesn’t give a shit about any of us. But Rochfort insists we maintain appearances.”
“Kit?” Micah waited while the driver opened the door to ask. He expected some major domo character.
“Mr. Auberon. Kit. He won’t answer to Christopher. And don’t ever call him Mr. Auberon. That sets him off.”
“And what’s your name?” Micah realized he needed an ally here if he was going to get through six months with what little remained of his sanity in check.
“Spencer. I drive during the day and run errands. Only Rochfort remains at night. And now yourself.” Spencer seemed eager to make sure he knew that little detail.
“And Mr. Auberon is left here alone at night with only paleface up there to guard him?”
“The dogs are let out at night. The grounds are monitored by the guard up at the guardhouse. They will answer to you starting Monday. I assume. Rochfort will know. We weren’t expecting to take on new staff. Mr. Gideon doesn’t tell us much. He writes the checks and does a tour of the house once a month. I guess to make sure Kit is still breathing.”
He stopped speaking when Rochfort cleared his throat loudly from the porch. Micah didn’t jump to harrumphing old men with sticks up their asses. He’d give the money that showed up in his bank account that morning right back if that was the way it was going to be.
Micah ignored the butler giving them the evil eye. “Or what? What else would Gideon come here to check on if not his nephew?”
Spencer busied himself with Micah’s luggage. Two bags. Micah took the handles from him as they cleared the trunk. Spencer looked down at the ground. “To make sure we’re all still alive. I guess. He’s a paranoid man. But I guess he has good reason to be. Will there be anything else Mr. Beasley?”
Micah knew better than to force more out of the driver. He had a job to protect and his loyalties definitely wouldn’t lie with an outsider. “No. I’ve got this. Thanks, Spencer.”
Spencer nodded and with a look up at the butler he went back to the car and was headed around the drive as Micah headed up the steps. “Rochfort I presume?”
“You presume correctly. May I take your bags?” The older man grimaced. Which made Micah want to crack a smile. The disdain dripping from the man was damned amusing.
“Nah, Jeeves, I’ve got them. You can show me where to stash these. And then I’d like to meet Mr. Auberon.” Micah wasn’t really interested in much of anything else until he spoke with his charge. Touring the grounds and meeting the rest of the staff was not his priority right now.
“As you wish.” Rochfort’s nose was definitely out of joint. He practically sneered as Micah passed him.
The house was as imposing on the inside as the outside. The entry was more like a ballroom than a place to hang your coat and wipe your feet. The floors were a rich hard wood that gleamed so brightly Micah could see his reflection. The grand staircase swept down into the entryway and was wrapped with early Christmas greenery. Fresh by the scent of it. A couple of maids scurried around the corner, their muted laughter carrying back to their boss.
“Silly girls act as if they’ve never seen a man before.” Rochfort muttered more to himself than to Micah.
“Is that going to be an issue?” Micah didn’t want to cause problems amongst the staff.
“You tell me, Mr. Beasley.” Rochfort bypassed the stairs without a pause. He led Micah deeper into the house, his spine so damned stiff Micah wondered if he’d break in a strong wind.
Micah stopped dead in his tracks. The implication clear. “Look, let’s clear the air before we go any farther. I’m sensing that I’m not welcome here. That’s fine. I get that your employers tend to be secretive. That’s not on me. I was hired to do a job same as you. And second, I’m not going to be skirt chasing your maids while I’m here. And I’ll do my level best to discourage any unwanted attention from them. And hi, I’m Micah, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and waited for the stuffy butler to decide what direction he wanted to take.
“Sam.” Rochfort stuck his hand out, his shoulders relaxed if nothing else. “I won’t say it’s a pleasure to have you here. But if your presence can ease some of the stress on my staff, that will go a long way in helping me tremendously. Young Mr. Auberon is…difficult. As you will find out soon enough. We’ll discuss your duties and what you should expect from the staff over a late lunch. And we’ll stay out of each other’s way as much as possible.”
“That’s good to hear, Sam.” Micah tried to smile, but the scarred side didn’t cooperate. A sign that he was exhausted. “If it would be all right I’d like to change clothes into something more comfortable and maybe rest for a while after. I’ve been traveling for several days straight with not much downtime. Your boss is damned demanding in that regard.”
“Understood, Mr. Beasley…How about Beasley?”
“That would work, too.” Micah conceded after all that’s what he’d been called most of his adult life. Usually with a rank in front of his last name. “I’m used to it.”
“You were military?” Sam started walking again, this time keeping step with Micah instead of leaving him in the dust. Not that there was a speck of dust anywhere to be seen.
“Four years. Went from there into law enforcement. I’m retired now. Medically speaking.” He felt his face twitch. The scar tissue still too new, still too tight. He would one day learn how to live with it, but not today.
“It’s tough, transitioning into civilian life.” Sam wove them through a maze of rooms and hallways until Micah was good and lost. Which didn’t happen often.
“Pretty much,” Micah agreed. He didn’t let down his guard often. But in this case he felt making Rochfort an ally far outweighed any pleasure he’d get from alienating the man. “I’ve had a while to get used to not being in service. Most of it spent in a hospital. But…well, shit happens.”
“Shit does indeed happen.” The butler agreed dryly. “This is the kitchen. You’ll find the pantry stocked and you’re welcome to help yourself at any time. Meals are served to the staff, if you miss one, you’re responsible for preparing your own and cleaning up behind yourself.” Sam walked through the almost cheerful kitchen to a door on the other side. “Your apartment is through here. It’s small, but you have rooms. A private bath. Bedroom. A sitting room. Mr. Gideon said that you may change out the furnishings to fit your tastes. And it’s the closest rooms to Master Kit and the kitchen.”
Micah simply nodded and followed the older man through the narrow corridor to what was probably once servant’s quarters. It wasn’t like he cared, he’d slept on the ground many nights. The apartment was actually bigger than the one he’d just vacated. Probably nicer too. The paint on the walls could use touching up. Everything looked clean and there were windows looking out over the rolling landscaped grounds. He even had a door leading out to a courtyard if he needed to get some fresh air. “This is nice, Sam.”
“You say that now. Wait until you’ve been here a month and the seclusion of this place starts to get to you. And don’t go out after dark. At least not until you’ve made friends with the hounds. When you’re ready to meet Master Kit, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
He walked through the small sitting room complete with a big screen television. The bedroom wasn’t very large, only big enough to hold the queen size bed and a dresser and still have room to walk. The bedding was a little frilly for his taste but he didn’t care as long as it was clean. The bathroom had an old tub and pedestal sink but everything sparkled and the water ran hot in no time.
Micah stripped out of his suit and scrubbed his face with water hoping to wake himself up. He laid out his kit and decided not to shave. He rinsed his mouth with mouthwash to kill the coffee taste and went to change into something more comfortable. He didn’t care what Jeeves dress code might be. That wasn’t his deal. But he did dress for the job. A new button down shirt, dark brown trousers, and a pair of casual running shoes, because who knew when he might have to sprint across the hedges to catch a cat burglar.
Until he had a chance to look over the police reports and to read the threat letters in depth, that’s exactly what he was treating this as. Just a rich paranoid family after a break in.
He retraced his steps out to the kitchen to find Sam talking with a couple of women, the younger of the two getting the worst of Sam’s caustic tongue. Something about young ladies and decorum. The older woman seemed to ignore the whole interaction as she stirred a pot of something that had Micah’s stomach taking notice. “Just because an attractive, obviously virile man is now close by you will treat him exactly like you treat Spencer and myself.”
“But Spencer is married and you’re too old—” she stopped when she realized how disrespectful she sounded to the man who was for all purposes her boss.
Micah stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat. They all stopped arguing and pretended that nothing was going on. “If this is about me, I should probably let you know that I’m gay. I hope that isn’t going to be a problem, because I don’t want there to be any accidental problems. So we’re all clear on that.” He watched them all for reaction, Sam’s eyes narrowed but he nodded. The girl looked disappointed. The older woman smiled and went back to tending the food on the stove.
“Mr. Gideon mentioned that might be the case. He had no issue with it. He said he hired you because you’re more than qualified to head the security unit here. And that’s all he had to say when we spoke.” The butler ignored the pout on the maid’s face and dismissed her to her duties. “Lunch is in half an hour. If you would care to meet Master Kit now I can escort you now.”
Micah sighed. Six months with the most uptight person he’d ever met in his life…Jesus. “Yeah, that would be why I’m here. So let’s get on that, Rochfort.”
Rochfort’s expression didn’t change. He nodded and turned toward the outer bank of windows and led him along a walkway that bridged the kitchen with what looked like some kind of sun room or green house. He keyed a code into the panel on the thick glass paned door and peace and quiet as Micah knew it ceased to exist.
Rapid gun fire exchange, rock music, stilted conversation, blips, bleeps, screeches. The whole cacophony of sound rose up like a wall and for one sick moment Micah felt the dark drag at him. He reached for his sidearm before remembering that he no longer carried. That he hadn’t carried in nearly a year. Before he could break a sweat the sound died and complete silence reigned.
“He knows we’re coming. He has the whole house under surveillance. With the exception of sleeping quarters. Be prepared, that’s all I have to say.” Rochfort spoke so low that Micah almost didn’t hear him. He had to strain to catch most of it while trying to stay in control of—nothing. He realized in that instance that he’d jumped into something without looking first. Just because he’d had a pretty face shoved at him to sweeten the deal.
Rochfort was obviously afraid of the younger Mr. Auberon. And Micah had no idea what ‘Master Kit’ could possibly have on the man to elicit such a response. “I’m suitably warned.”
“You should have been suitably warned before you signed the contract,” Rochfort said as they entered into the brightly lit fortress of solitude.
“I heard that Roch.” A decidedly not human voice echoed through the vast room. All of the hairs on Micah’s neck stood up. “And you must be Beasley?” The voice dripped with sarcasm.
Micah emerged in the middle of the sunlit room. Glass walls surrounded him letting in warmth, without having to actually set foot outside. Micah recalled Gideon mentioning his nephew was agoraphobic. Maybe Micah didn’t understand agoraphobia as much as he thought he did. In the middle of the room a bank of large screen television sets loomed over a single high backed chair. A pale hand resting on the dark leather all he could see of his host.
Much like a villain from an old TV series, his unseen host laughed, the sound more computerized than real. One of the screens flashed up a talking head. A dark haired blue eyed computer graphic that laughed along with the disembodied voice. While on the other screens a medley of images remained paused or muted. A video war game. A twenty four hour news station. A rock video. Metal. Of course. One screen showed various rooms in the house, any room in which something moved. The kitchen he’d just left only slightly larger than the rooms the maids were cleaning or the garage where Spencer was detailing the Town Car.
“Come now, you’d think that there was more than one mute in the place the way you’re standing there gawking.” And with that the talking head went dark and much like in Oz, the man behind the curtain turned in his chair to reveal himself.
Unprepared for the adult version of Christopher Jonathon Auberon, Micah took one step back. He’d never felt sucker punched at the mere sight of a beautiful man, until now. His new assignment was, simply put, other worldly beautiful.
Tall, he would be very tall if he stood. And slim. His long feet and hands were so very pale almost ghostly pale. His eyes were the same piercing blue from the photos. His face more gamine than anything else. He could see the younger man’s face in the grown version now that he thought on it. But where the boy’s hair had been dark, the grown man’s was white. Not blond. Not silver. Completely white. Straight white hair framed the face of purest beauty with only the brilliant gleam of blue eyes and the slash of red lips that smirked at his response, for color.
One long hand typed away at the keyboard cradled in his lap and the voice echoed around the room once more. “Ah, yes, it’s a wonder what two years in a mental institution can do for the complexion. Drained the color right out of me.”
Micah turned to leave. He’d pay Spencer out of his own pocket to drive him back to the airport. Crazy. No wonder Gideon had been so evasive. His nephew was a lunatic. The scar along his jaw drew up tight in memory. Micah had enough of dealing with crazy to last him the rest of his life. He’d walk back to the airport if he had to. No way was he spending six months locked up with this cast of characters from a Stephen King novel. No way in hell.