EIGHT
The blaring sound of someone killing elephants penetrated his brain. Fuck he hurt. He hurt badly. His back stung like he’d been shredded by a Tasmanian devil. Why he thought of cartoon animals was absurd. Where the hell was he? Micah tensed when the ground shifted below him. The hot lumpy person shaped ground. That whimpered. Silently. And clawed at his face.
Fuck his head hurt. The big blue eyes looking up into his were familiar. And terrified. He slapped at Micah, his mouth working but Micah couldn’t hear a thing he said. The dying elephants were thudding around in his head now.
Someone was bleeding. He could smell blood. Blood was one scent he couldn’t stomach anymore and he crawled off the…Chris…Christopher…Kit…the body had a name. And he was almost naked. On the floor. Under Micah. Who was exposed and there was other bodily fluids other than blood.
“Must have been some fucking good sex.” He didn’t know if he’d said that. Kit sat up slowly and looked at the damage as he pulled his robe on. Micah remembered now. He’d come in Kit’s hand and the kid hadn’t even popped wood. But he’d had one fucking good time using Micah’s body against him. Little prick. “What the fuck happened?”
Kit picked up his keyboard from the rubble that was once a table. He pressed the keys and nothing happened. In a fit of temper he threw the device across the room toward the windows. And that’s when it all came back to Micah. The orgasm. Wanting to tear into Kit for more. Finding him limp and unresponsive hadn’t been the only shock. The flash of light off in the distance, followed by the thud of a bullet on bulletproof glass had him ducking for cover. He’d shoved Kit to the floor as the window started to splinter.
He hadn’t expected the roof to come raining down on them. He’d wanted to get them out of the line of fire in case the glass gave under the onslaught.
And now he was deaf and in pain and he smelled blood. The room moved too. Which wasn’t comforting.
“What in hell was that? Are you okay? Master Kit!” The booming voice was loud.
“Oh good. I’m not deaf.” Micah shouted a bit too loudly. But Rochfort was shouting and some alarm somewhere was blaring and there was more glass hanging from the ceiling just waiting to fall on them. “Maybe we should move over a few feet.” He shouted over Rochfort and pointed up.
Rochfort had Kit up and on his feet. There was glass in his hair. But the pieces were large chunks and not tiny slivers. Thank you safety glass. “What happened? Did I hear gunfire?”
Micah climbed to his feet, only to stumble as a wave of dizzy engulfed him. He’d not gotten his body under control before all hell broke loose. “I think so. I saw a flash and then boom. I smell blood. Why do I smell blood?”
Micah’s knees didn’t want to hold him up. Dizzy wasn’t the word for what he felt. A pair of long arms grabbed him and held him up forcing him to walk over the glass until they were away from the windows and Micah collapsed into a chair, his back burning with pain. He recognized the trickle of something that wasn’t sweat running along his spine.
“Mister Beasley, you are injured.” Rochfort picked up the phone from the desk.
“No shit, Jeeves.” Micah wanted to laugh. This was insane. He’d been jacked off by a eunuch and the world exploded. Sounded about right.
Kit took his hands when he tried to reach around to brush at the irritation. He held him captive and sat on the floor in front of Micah looking up into his eyes. He shook his head and Micah knew it was bad.
“Police were already dispatched. Fire and paramedics are on the way. You’re both covered in semen. I won’t ask but maybe you’d like to not have the police asking that particular question either.”
Kit looked away in obvious distress but he took the box of tissues from Rochfort and cleaned off the evidence of their playing from them both. He wouldn’t meet Micah’s gaze again after that. “Don’t touch your back,” he signed and sat down hard on the floor and then to Rochfort. “I need the backup voice.”
Kit started shaking while Rochfort was gone to retrieve the spare keyboard. Micah reached for his hand but he backed farther away. “What’s wrong?”
Kit looked down at the floor. He signed one word. “Police.”
“Oh.” Micah got it. A little. Kit was about to have his sanctuary invaded by outsiders. He looked up at the sky that was now bright and clear without the glass in the way. The outside was suddenly very close. Kit had to be freaking out.
The sound of sirens echoed on the early morning air and Kit looked up at him. There was nothing in his eyes now. He tilted his head to one side as if he were studying Micah. Much like he had when he had Micah’s dick in his hand but without a hint of recognition it seemed.
“Master Kit.” Rochfort’s voice boomed around the room startling them both. Micah jumped at the sound, Kit practically jolted, but whatever had been missing in his eyes mere seconds before was now replaced with extreme fear and he backed away crab walking until he connected with the nearest wall.
The bark of a dog alerted Micah to the presence of others. Security had arrived with the police at the back door. Paramedics weren’t far behind. And Micah found himself lying flat on his stomach on a stretcher for a ride down to the county hospital. After police questioned him. Fifteen times. Or more. About what he saw and what he and Kit had been doing.
They both lied and said they were putting away the game when Micah saw the flash of gunfire off in the distance. He’d grabbed Kit and thrown him on the floor, covering him when the glass shattered. It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Their story was as clear as day. So why did Micah feel as if he was the only one in the dark.
* * * * *
Kit locked himself in his bedroom while the workers removed the shattered glass panel. He played with the new keyboard trying to get it to sound the way he wanted it to. The old one had been perfect. He’d gotten it to respond exactly how he wanted his words to sound. It was perfect. And now it was crushed and filled with glass.
Of course, the fact that the largest chunk of glass had missed them by mere inches wasn’t lost on Kit. He could still see the larger shards sticking up from Beastly’s back. He’d found the bullet scar but that was no consolation. Beastly was still in the hospital. And that had Kit freaked.
What if he decided to never come back? What if he died? Why hadn’t Kit had the glass at the top of the atrium made bullet proof as well? The front wall had held. The police had reported at least six crushed bullets. All hitting on a concentrated point that had caused the glass to crack. The crack splintered as it ran upwards and the regular safety glass at the top had shattered.
He would forever hear that sound. Like ice only different.
Rochfort had Spencer in town seeing about Beastly. And the staff had come in early to help with the clean-up. The glass company had a new panel on order and promised it by the end of day. Money. The greatest invention known to mankind. He had plenty of it. But not enough to stop the panic that had him sitting in the corner impatiently trying to program the new fucking keyboard.
He wanted to throw this one across the room. But it was the only one he had. The other one had lasted him nearly two years and worked perfectly. Two years in which he had tweaked it to do just about anything he wanted.
This one sounded like some robot out of a bad fifties sci-fi movie.
He slammed the device on the floor.
“Is that what they mean when they say killing the messenger?” The new voice wasn’t Rochfort. Or Kady. Or even Gibbs. It was also slurred.
Relief washed over Kit as he looked up to find Beastly hanging onto the poster of his bed.
“Beastly.” He typed into the voice but it didn’t come out as happy to see him. It came out flat and one dimensional. He hated it.
“Is that commentary on how I look? Because, Chris, right now…” Beastly swayed a bit on his feet but held on to the bed. “I think I’m going to face plant for a bit if you don’t mind.”
Kit was on his feet before Beastly could aim that face plant in the wrong direction. Namely the floor. He helped him into the bed and watched in amusement as Beastly’s eyes fluttered closed. About the time Rochfort came in Kit realized that he still held Beastly’s hand.
“Is there something you want to talk about?” Rochfort lifted the man’s feet onto the bed and together they maneuvered him until he seemed to be resting comfortably. He was breathing evenly at least.
“No,” Kit signed. Followed by, “what?”
“This new familiarity between you and your bodyguard, maybe? Or did I imagine there was sex involved this morning. It looked mutual.” Rochfort had never asked him such personal questions before. Of course, there had never been reason to ask those questions.
Kit let go of Beastly’s hand and stacked pillows up so that he could sit in the bed beside the prone man. The thick bandaging that covered his entire back was dotted with blood. But Beastly didn’t seem to notice.
“Why did he come here instead of going to his own bed?” Kit typed and scowled at the electronic voice.
“He wanted to make sure you were safe. I guess the pain meds were stronger than he was.” Rochfort bustled about the room finding a soft blanket to drape over the knocked out man. “It’s getting cold in here. The tarp is doing very little to keep the wind out. The glass installers said they’d be out in time but I’ve ordered some plywood just in case they don’t make it.”
Kit watched his butler try to stay busy. “Sit down. Please. You’ve been up and running since this all happened. Just sit. Before I have to give up the other side of my bed for you.”
“It’s not like you ever sleep in here.” Rochfort waited a moment before dropping into the oversized club chair Kit usually threw his clothes over the thing. He just changed in here. Most often he slept in the game room. When he slept that is.
“We didn’t fuck. I’m not…he didn’t touch me.” Kit couldn’t look at the man who’d pretty much been the only father he ever had. There was too much shame.
“So what happened?”
“I didn’t respond to his touch. But…I wanted to see what would happen…I think I was what people call a cock tease.”
Rochfort didn’t respond. A silent Roch was never a good sign. It usually meant Kit had fucked up somehow and Sam was waiting for him to confess. There were so many sins to choose from this time. Kit finally looked him in the eye. “And I think I went black for a while. I have a memory gap.”
“There are drugs to help with erectile disorder. You seem to like him. At least he seems to be the first person I’ve known to lay a hand on you and keep it. And I’ve noticed that you touch him.” The older man sighed, ignoring the last comment.
Kit shook his head. He took too many drugs as it was. He didn’t want one more even if it meant he would get hard and maybe feel what Beastly had obviously thought was pleasure. Though it looked more like pain to Kit.
“You didn’t say anything about the…that other part.”
“I noticed. It was seconds. And you came back. What would you like me to say?”
Kit shrugged. What was there to say? They’d been down this road so many times. Seconds this time. Minutes. Days. He had so much of his life missing. “Get the room ready.”
Rochfort didn’t have to ask him what he meant. Kit didn’t feel the need to tell him what he could feel coming. He was fighting. God knew how much he was fighting. But they both knew that the longer he fought sometimes the worse it was. Last time he lost two weeks. But that was a couple of years ago. He’d been fine. He’d thought maybe he could be normal.
“Kady will leave us soon. She wants more from life than being the help.” Kit tweaked one of the settings on the keyboard and managed to modulate the voice into something less ridiculous. “And Beastly. What do I do about Beastly?”
“Stop calling him Beastly for one. His name is Micah. Maybe think about the erectile thing.” Rochfort leaned his chin in his palm. He looked tired. And old.
“I’m not talking about sex with him. I’m talking about—” He had no idea what he was talking about. Or why he’d felt like he’d needed to hire the man in the first place. “Someone is trying to kill me. They aimed right at me. How did they see inside? We were in the dark. The glass is one way. There’s no way that was a coincidence.”
“He was there to keep you from harm. I believe your instincts are right. And having him in the house. Possibly in your apartment is where he needs to be. Not out in the grounds running with the dogs.” Rochfort yawned into his hand.
“Where were the dogs?” The question was slurred, and Kit wondered if Beastly even realized he was speaking. “There should have been dogs.”
“He’s right. Those dogs should have been on that shooter long before he was able to get off a shot.” Rochfort was awake now. And Kit was cold. And getting colder. Someone really was trying to kill him. But for what reason?
“How am I supposed to know?” He crawled from the bed leaving the keyboard behind. He wasn’t ready to call that thing his voice yet. Not until he found the right modifications. He went to his closet and pulled out one of his full length fleece lined robes and traded it for the short day robe he wore. Sleep would probably be good. Maybe he’d go find one of his antipsychotic scripts or a sleeping pill or something. He climbed back into his bed without ever voicing what it was he needed. Maybe he didn’t really know.
“You need sleep, Kit.” The father figure was there in place of his butler. “Maybe if I move Mr. Beasley into the next room you’ll sleep.” Kit instinctively clutched Beastly’s hand at the very thought of having him moved. “I meant his things. As in move him into the next room. But if you’re fine with him in your bed then far be it from me to say anything.”
Kit waited for Rochfort to go back to leaning on his arm to type again. “I’ll sleep if you will. Go take a nap, Sam. So you’ll be awake to bark at the window installers.”
“You’ll lie down and try to sleep if I go do the same?” Sam stood up, he swayed a bit, but not as much as Beastly had before he face planted.
“I’m lying down now. I’m turning on the TV. I’m turning up the volume. See. Going to sleep. Close the door. Turn off the light.” Kit ordered, the electronic voice making him sound mean and bossy instead of light and fun loving.
“Won’t the sound bother Mr. Beasley?” Rochfort turned off the light and was pulling the door closed.
Kit looked down at the sleeping man. “I suspect we could drop the roof on him and he’d not wake up.” He tried to smile to show he was joking. But the memory of the roof doing exactly that was still very fresh in his mind and his smile faded. “He could have died. The pane that fell on the table would have killed him. I can’t have any more blood on my hands, Sam. I need to make sure he’s alive. There’s nothing to worry about. And I don’t need Viagra.”
“You need your head examined, is what you need,” Rochfort said and closed the door.
“Oh, is it that time of year again already?” He set the controls for his voice to be heard in the outer room. He tried to make it a joke, because he was afraid that next time they’d lock him away for good and bury the key.