Chapter Seven
Malcolm rushed to find Claude. The lead wasn’t much, but the cops had finally found something. He knocked on Claude’s door, and Claude opened the door right away, his phone to his ear. He held his finger up to Malcolm and ushered him in. Malcolm ducked inside and paced by the door, his hands shoved in his back pockets, until Claude rang off and turned to him.
“What is it, Malcolm? What’s wrong?” Claude asked.
“Not wrong. Something good. Not much, but it’s a lead. I was coming up to make sure you don’t arrange for us to leave.”
Claude’s eyes lit up. “Lead? What kind of lead? Why haven’t they called me?”
“They will, but I was down there hovering, and I think they wanted to shut me up.”
“Okay, what is it? Give! We’ll stay right here, I promise.”
Malcolm took a steadying breath. “They found something here. A van. They’re processing it now. The manager of some restaurant—they wouldn’t tell me—was gonna call a tow truck for this van by their delivery door. One of the waitresses said she saw it the day before. She said she saw a big guy getting a passed-out drunk guy with blond dreadlocks out of the back. They had it towed away, and the manager called the cops when she saw the picture of Killian on the news. The police have the van and are processing it or whatever. They pulled Killian’s fingerprints, so they must be pretty confident.”
“Killian had been fingerprinted? That’s great! Maybe not at the time, but now it is.”
Malcolm remembered the day vividly. “His car was broken into when he was seventeen. They had to fingerprint him, me, and his folks to rule their prints out.”
Claude nodded. “Okay. Not much, but yeah, it’s something. No plates?”
Malcolm shook his head. “No, but maybe they messed up in some other way.”
Claude ran his fingers into his hair and clasped the back of his head. After a moment he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I’ll tell the label we’re staying for now.” He groaned. “God, they’re breathing down my neck to do something, not to mention dogging my every move and critiquing it. I mean, fuck, Killian is just money to them—I actually care if we get him back. I’m gonna lose it on one of them soon.”
“Hey, let me in on that. We can get ‘em on speaker phone. Fuck ‘em if they think you’re doing anything wrong.”
Claude put his glasses back on and laughed briefly. “Deal.” Running his hands into his hair again, he asked, “You seen Liam?”
Malcolm couldn’t resist—anything for some distracting amusement. “Down in the hotel bar, flirting with some pretty cute guy.”
Claude’s eyes flickered with surprise and then hurt, but he recovered quickly. “Good. Glad he’s relaxing. I know he’s worried.”
Malcolm shook his head. “I’m lying. Just wanted to see your reaction. Look, as a teacher, I understand your position. I would never have dated a student or even a former student. But at the same time, you can’t help whom you connect with. Attraction is one thing. A real connection is something else entirely. You’ve been doing this for over a year, right?”
“Yeah, but why does that matter?”
“Because if you only wanted to sleep with him, it would’ve worn off by now. I wasn’t here, so maybe my guess is off, but I’m guessing this connection happened recently. You two guys have been forced to spend hours and hours together, even sleeping in the same room. You’re getting to know each other, and you’re liking what you’re discovering.”
“And what happens when it goes wrong? I’ll have to leave my job. I’ll get a bad reputation, and my career as a music manager will be over. What band would want the manager who fucked a guy in one of his bands? You know how macho and homophobic some rock stars are.”
“Yeah, but there are plenty who fuck anything that comes backstage. I get your concern, but don’t shut Liam out because you’re scared. He seems like a great guy, and I don’t think he’d start something like this lightly. Just … keep an open mind.”
“My mind is in overdrive right now. I can’t even begin to think about myself.”
“Yet I bet you’re thinking of Liam.”
Claude started to say something, but then his phone rang. Malcolm stood up and nodded. “Take it. I’ll let myself out.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.” He took the call and turned away.
Malcolm closed the door quietly and glanced up and down the hall. Part of him wanted to go to every restaurant in Atlanta and find out which one that van had been found behind. Of course, if someone called the cops on him, they’d likely be less inclined to be so open with any new leads. He headed down to the bar, texting Liam to meet him down there. If he didn’t have someone to watch him, Malcolm knew he’d end up falling off the barstool before the end of the night.
****
Killian heard the door opening. Billy came in, a deep frown on his face. Killian sat up as Billy came closer. The silence actually had him more scared than Billy’s usual ranting. He thought he’d heard arguing earlier, but everything in the house had been quiet for about an hour. Billy undid the cuffs and nodded to the bathroom.
“Go piss,” Billy said, rising to close the door.
Killian obeyed, listening for the sound of the lock. But it didn’t come. Was Eugene outside? Killian hadn’t seen either of them since the doorbell had rung hours earlier, and the argument he’d thought he’d heard hadn’t last long. He came out of the bathroom slowly and found Billy sitting on the bed again.
Billy looked up and rose, one pair of cuffs in his hand. “We’re leaving.”
“All of us?”
“Eugene’s gone.”
“He left?”
Billy lifted his cold gaze. “He’s gone.” His scowl deepened. “Ungrateful fucker.”
Killian started to ask another question but managed to stop himself as he realized Eugene was probably dead. A chill worked over him as Billy cuffed him and then pushed him against the wall. He took Killian’s mouth in a bruising kiss, which Killian tried to yank away from.
That earned him a hard slap and a busted lip.
Then Billy kissed him again, actually biting down on the cut his slap had just caused. Killian whimpered in pain, and Billy laughed. His mouth moved down, and he bit Killian on the neck and shoulder. His hand moved down to Killian’s cock, and he pulled back and glowered when he wasn’t able to get Killian hard.
“You think you can fight this? No one will ever find us where I’m taking you.”
Wrenching Killian’s arm so hard it made him cry out, Billy dragged him from the room and into what seemed to be a garage attached to the house. Billy pushed him against the car and walked across the garage to a small window. He looked outside, craning to see something out there.
Killian’s gaze landed on a button on the wall. Before Billy could get to him, he ran over and bumped the button with his forehead. The garage door started to open, and Billy whirled around and made a dive for Killian.
They tumbled to the floor, and Killian screamed at a sharp pain in his shoulder. They rolled together, and Billy even tried to bash Killian’s head against the concrete floor. Killian kicked at him and finally landed a blow to his gut and then his face. Billy slammed into the car and screamed in pain. Killian saw blood as he scooted back and out of Billy’s reach. Then he rolled outside and managed to use the side of the house to push his way to his feet.
Killian ran into the woods as fast as he could. The house was almost out of sight when he heard yelling and even gunshots. It could be the cops or a suspicious neighbor, but what if it was Eugene? Not knowing who might’ve fired the shots and unwilling to risk it, Killian quickened his pace as best he could. He ran for what seemed like miles, stumbling as he lost the strength to keep going. And then he heard something—he heard himself belting out the lyrics to “Standing in the Road”. He stumbled through some trees and found two teenage boys sitting in the back of a pick-up truck drinking beers. And holding hands. Killian smiled, remembering how he and Malcolm had always had to sneak around to be together.
The guys hid the beers right away, only seeing an adult at first, but then their eyes went wide. They were so surprised they hadn’t even stopped holding hands.
“Holy shit!” the tallest one said.
“You got that right,” Killian said. “Get rid of the beers. We’re goin’ to see the cops, and you two are getting backstage passes for life.”
****
About five seconds after Malcolm stepped out of the shower, he heard a lot of commotion followed by a fist pounding on the door. “They found him, Malcolm!” Liam called. “They fuckin’ found him! He got away. These teenagers found him, and he’s with the police in Knoxville!”
Found him? Got away? Malcolm yanked a towel from the rod and jerked the door open. “What?”
“Get dressed! We’re leaving right now. It’s about three hours. Will and Laurel are going to stay here with Claude to pack everything and check us out of the hotel. Frank’s downstairs right now getting a rental car from the place next door.”
Malcolm stood frozen and dripping on the carpet. His heart raced, yet he couldn’t get his body to move.
“Malcolm,” Liam said, grabbing his shoulders. “He’s okay. He isn’t hurt at all, except for some bruises and cuts. He’s stilled rattled and freaking out, but he’s fine. They let me talk to him. Do you hear me? He’s fine, but he needs you! Come on, get some clothes on!”
Malcolm stumbled forward and dropped the towel, not caring Liam was in the room. He yanked his jeans on and slipped into his Converse without bothering with socks. Next, he grabbed a t-shirt off the dresser and pulled it over his head. A brief wave of dizziness overtook him, and he turned to lean on the dresser. He wasn’t entirely sure he could move forward right then.
Liam moved in beside him and put an arm around him. “Hey, calm down and just take a breath. It’ll probably take a few more minutes at least for Frank to get everything settled. They know our situation and said they’d hurry, but we don’t really have to rush. I just got overexcited dashing up here.”
“He’s really okay? He wasn’t lying so we wouldn’t worry?”
“He was in the police station, not a hospital. He was talking way too fast and seemed sort of stunned. His story was jumbled as hell, but the point is that he’s fine.”
Malcolm nodded several times, waiting for his emotions to catch up with his brain. “Fine? Fine. Okay. He’s fine.” The word echoed in his brain. How could Killian be fine? He’d been kidnapped by a crazy guy who was so messed up he thought he was acting out of love.
“I’m telling you, really and truly, he sounded like himself. Scared, yes, but talking to me seemed to do him some good.”
Malcolm had his hands braced on his thighs, and he flexed his fingers as he tried to find the right words. “But what if, I mean, that could be, like, shock? Right? Like it hasn’t really hit him yet? He might not be fine at all.”
Liam sighed and placed one of his hands on Malcolm’s. “Malcolm, I know what you’re thinking. Maybe something really bad did happen to him, something he won’t want to talk about, but now is not the time to worry about it.”
“I know that with my head, but come on, Liam.” He looked into Liam’s eyes. “What if some fucker grabbed Claude? You aren’t even a couple yet, but you know how you’d feel.”
Liam narrowed his eyes and made a skeptical sound. “Yet, huh?”
“Quit trying to distract me.”
“Well, I hope you or someone else would be there to talk me down and make me see reason.”
“Reason?” Malcolm stood up. “Let’s get downstairs. I may be insufferable in the car, but at least we’ll be moving toward our goal.”
“Okay. Whatever you need.”
Whatever I need? I need someone to catch this fucker and give me five minutes with him.
****
Malcolm let Killian ramble, holding him close the entire time.
“I’m sorry. Really, really sorry,” Killian said for perhaps the fourth time. “I was an ass to all of you. Especially you. And you were right. I did downplay how crazy and dangerous Billy is. I guess I … fuck, I don’t know. I tried to be brave to keep from being scared every moment.”
“Just relax and let me smother you,” Malcolm murmured as he rubbed Killian’s back and rocked him gently.
Killian laughed, though Malcolm could hear the tremor in it.
Malcolm sighed as he glanced around the room where the police had put him with Killian. “Killian?”
“Yeah?”
“Please, while it’s just us, tell me what he did.”
“Mal, please…”
“Killian, I need to know how to help you, and to do that I have to know.”
“He kept me locked up. Cuffed me to a bed. Slapped me. Threw me around. Slammed me down on the ground and tried to … to bash my head against the concrete. And he…”
Malcolm held him tighter and kissed the top of his head. “He what?”
“He touched me. Kissed me. Didn’t fuck me, but I think he was going to. There was someone at the door earlier today. That state trooper they mentioned, I guess. Billy had me cuffed. Was kissing me. Undoing my pants. About to suck me, I think.” Killian sat up and hugged himself, looking into Malcolm’s eyes. “I felt sick. It was worse than him hitting me.”
Malcolm reached out and touched his cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“But I don’t want to be coddled,” Killian said.
“No one is going to do that, but it may take longer than you think to work through all this.”
Killian bit his lower lip, then winced as he seemed to realize he’d made himself bleed again. He touched his lip and reached for a tissue. “What I mean is that I don’t want you thinking we can’t touch. Or have sex.”
Malcolm sighed. “This time, you’re going to listen to me. I won’t be pressured again, not after this. We’re taking that part slow. Okay? No argument.”
Killian frowned, but then he said, “I promised myself I’d appreciate you more if I made it out alive.” He laughed, though the sound held no humor. “Guess I’m still a stubborn asshole.” He inched over, looking sincere as he said, “I want to fuck you here and now. Just feel you inside me and against me.”
“I’d love that, but … I meant what I said. No argument.”
Malcolm waited for the cursing and the anger, but it didn’t come. Instead, Killian crawled into his lap and settled there, hugging him tight and shedding silent tears.
Malcolm began rocking back and forth again, one eye on the door as they awaited news.