Chapter 18

 

 

I don’t know, Miki. The words… hurt too much, you know?

Dude…. Forest, trust me, man. I know.

And you still write them down. Why? Why the fuck go through it again?

So maybe someone else who’s out there doesn’t have to feel so fucking alone.

—Home Studio Session #5

 

“SHOW ME where he is. Then get out into the fresh air.” Connor tried shaking the feeling back into his arm, but it was stinging from Miki’s attack. Shit, his forearm hurt, all the way up to his teeth and into the base of his skull. “We need to get you guys out of here.”

The studio was a mess of cables and equipment. If he hadn’t known better, Con would have thought it’d been tossed, but the Sound’s space became a storage area for the damaged coffee shop, and he dodged more than one stack of paper goods to get to the recording area’s open door. The smoke was thinner in the recording studio, but the air was still cloudy and astringent.

Miki stumbled as he walked, and Con caught him by the shirt before he fell over. The man snarled softly, yanking himself free, and continued to pick his way through. His knee was obviously giving him trouble, and he was a bit unsteady as he wove through the boxes, but Connor kept his hands off the man. Miki kept his head down, coughing a few times as he went.

Connor was unfamiliar with the Sound. Other than helping Forest move a few boxes into the back room, he’d not been to the space. He got turned around once after losing Miki in the shadows. The lights in the Sound were off, and if not for the clatter coming through the broken window, the place would have been quiet. At some point, probably when the fire crews arrived, someone’d turned off the power, because the Studio’s windowless interior was pitch black.

“My phone’s broken. Guy jumped me, and I went down. Must have hit something hard,” Miki said as Con was digging his phone out of his pocket. “Can you turn yours on? I need the light.”

“Yeah, getting it out now. Tell me where he is and call out. Get us some help.”

“Down the hall, to the right.” The man’s face appeared saturnine in the yellow glow coming from Connor’s screen. “Come on. Reception’s shit there. Too much steel and crap inside the building.”

The hallway was clear enough. Certainly wide enough, but then Connor figured it would have to be to get equipment in and out of the area without too much difficulty. The door at the end of the hall was open a bit, and a very faint glow shone through the crack, nearly too faint to see except for the deep shadows in the enclosed space.

“Miki?” Damie’s voice reached them, a soft, wavering call. “Fuck, dude. I hope that’s you.”

“Yeah, Con’s here.” Miki moved faster, then disappeared into the room with a quick slide of his body through the door.

Connor reached the door and tried to pull it farther open, but it refused to budge. A fast sweep of his phone’s screen around the area told him why. The mechanism was damaged, and there were bits of wood planks hanging from the frame, thick, heavy nails poking out from the broken pieces.

He couldn’t think about what could have happened to the men if they’d not been found. The smoke was bothering him, and he coughed again, his lungs struggling to get air. With each jerk of his breath, his chest burned, and the watering in his eyes blurred his vision. Blinking, Connor realized he was seeing double, and his face’d begun to itch, prickling fires spreading up from his nostrils and lips. He definitely had to get them out of there before they all suffocated from the spreading smoke.

The fog in the room was good for one thing. It refracted the waning light coming from Damie’s phone, illuminating the man sprawled on the floor. He held a towel up near his face, and Connor saw water dripping from its edge, a drop hitting Damien on the throat. An empty Evian bottle crunched under Con’s foot as he approached, and he kicked it aside, bending over the young man to check his wounds.

“Where are you hit?” Con asked as Miki appeared again out of the smoke. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

“My leg.” Damien scrambled to grab his phone. Tilting it, he showed Connor the wet spreading over his calf. His jeans were soaked through with blood, and the fabric was torn. “Tried walking, but….”

“No, let me see if I can’t get that door open more. If not, we’ll have to squeeze you through.” Connor looked around for something heavy to shove against the door, but nothing stood out to him in the cloudy darkness. He needed to force it open another few feet, just enough to be able to carry Damien through. “Maybe if Miki and I both shoved. Fire department’ll have spreaders, but they’d have to call them down. You can’t sit here in this shit that long.”

“Yeah.” Damien coughed. “Dunno how the fuck Sinjun got it open to begin with.”

Miki was bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, a hot crackle of energy fueled by temper and fear. Even in the dim light of his phone, Connor could see the anguish in the man’s eyes when he looked down at Damien. He reached for Miki, gripping his shoulder in a tight clench to reassure him.

“He’ll be okay. Let’s just get this door open,” Connor said firmly. “Then you head out for air.”

The guy was strong. Connor had to give Miki that. Leaning on the door, Connor tested its give and was disappointed to find it practically wedged in place. They couldn’t do much. Too much exertion would strain their already compromised lungs, but he didn’t want to do any more damage to Damien’s leg. Miki came up with another thick metal barstool and wedged it between the door and the frame, nodding at Connor once.

“You push, I’ll pry,” Miki suggested. “Maybe we can move this thing.”

His shoulders picked up the strain when Connor laid into the door. Miki wedged the heavy-legged stool into the opening and began to count. When he hit three, Connor threw his weight into shoving the door open. For a second, it didn’t seem like the door was going to budge. Then they heard a satisfying crash as the lodged mechanism gave way. The door flew forward, unhindered by its hydraulics, and slammed into the outer wall, rattling on its hinges.

“Go,” Connor ordered. “Take my phone and get out. We’ll be right behind you. D, get ready to light our way out. We’re going to be moving fast.”

By this time, his voice was a mess and the edges of his eyes were swelling shut, but Connor made it over to Damien’s side, tapping the man on the shoulder. Hitching his arms under Damie’s legs, Connor lifted him up. His arms smarted a bit, especially the one Miki’d struck, but he cradled Damie’s heavy body as well as he could.

“Just get me out the door, and I can lean on you. I’m too heavy,” Damie said.

“Hold on.” Connor hoisted him closer and led with his shoulder out of the room.

If anything, the smoke seemed to be spreading through the studio, reaching into the far recesses of the hallway and outer reception area. The busted-out window was hard to make out, but when Connor got Damien out from around the front counter, sunlight brightened up the space, outlining the punched-in opening. Shouts were coming from beyond the window, but Connor couldn’t make out who was talking to him. His knee hit the wall, and suddenly there were hands reaching for Damien, and someone took the man from him.

A gruff-voiced woman grabbed Connor’s arm and guided his leg over the edge of the broken window, gently encouraging him to lift his leg up a bit farther. He pulled himself out, cold air hitting his bare chest and back. At some point, he must have hurt himself, because a spot on his shoulder blade seemed raw, and Connor felt the sticky tack of blood clinging to his skin. Once fully outside, he blinked, startled by the sudden flare of light in his eyes, but the rush of cold air in his lungs felt good, and he inhaled hard, coughing out as much of the smoke as he could.

“Sit down, Lieutenant,” the woman ordered. “I’m going to wash your eyes out. From what we can tell, there’s only a bit of capsaicin in the smoke solution, but it’s enough to sting. I’m going to run a flush and check you over. When I’m done, I’m going to give you some electrolytes in some water, and I want you to drink it. It’ll help your throat.”

The flush was cold, or at least felt cold, and Connor sighed at the relief, trying to keep his eyes open under the rush. She repeated the flush twice, then handed him a towel to pat away the moisture. A bottle of water was shoved into his hand, and Con thanked the woman before sipping it. Wiping away the wash coming from his smarting face, he looked around him and grinned when he spotted Miki sitting a few feet away.

“Hey, St. John!” Con caught the man’s attention. “Do me a favor.”

“What?” Miki sounded worse than Connor felt, but the snarl was still there, and the sound of it made Con smile.

Leaning over the space between them, Connor pointed at the man’s phone and said, “Call your boyfriend. I told him I’d give him an update once we found you. I don’t do that, he’ll come kick my ass.”

“Fuck. I’m fine. He worries too much, but okay,” Miki snapped back but took the phone anyway, his fingers flying over the screen. “Shit, I didn’t even get the damned sticks!”

 

 

“I NEVER should have asked them to go down there.” Forest tried taking a step forward, but pacing in the waiting room was next to impossible.

Mainly because it was full of Morgans—both cop and otherwise. He’d spent a couple of Sundays at the house, but Forest’d never encountered the clan en masse. Even in the large area set aside for waiting families, they were overwhelming.

He was pretty sure he now knew what it felt like to be a penguin in a kiddie pool full of leopard seals.

He just didn’t have a glacier to hide behind.

“It’s okay, kid,” Kane said, patting Forest absently on the shoulder. It might have been meant to be a light tap, but the hit rattled Forest’s teeth in his skull. “Damie’s tough. And Miki….”

Kane didn’t finish what he was saying. Instead, the large man paced off toward the ward doors, only to be turned around before he could push them open by a sharp word from his father. Kane glared back for a moment, then paced back off, hands on his hips and spine taut and firm.

“Worse than trying to keep them in their playpens,” Donal muttered under his breath to Brigid.

“Yer the one who yelled at me when I tied them to the tree,” she shot back, her voice rolling along with Donal’s heavier accent. “It was good enough for my gran.”

“Yer gran also taught ye how to spit chewing tobacco when ye were three.” He rolled his eyes. “Thank God, yer mum put a stop to that nonsense.”

“Now yer scaring the boy.” Brigid reached out to snag Forest’s hand. He let her pull him closer, grateful for her arm as it slid around his waist. “It’ll be fine, love. All of them are stubborn bastards. Don’t know what you were thinking when ye fell in with this lot.”

“The boy’s a lot stronger than ye think,” Donal said, winking at Forest. “How are ye holding up, son?”

“They’re a bit….” He searched for a word to describe the sheer presence of Morgan around him. “Intense, and I’m scared. Scared shitless.”

“It’s okay to be scared, son.” Donal wrapped his arms around both of them, squeezing lightly before letting go. It was like being hugged by a redwood, but Forest thought it felt nice. “But I’m telling ye, they’ll be fine. Injuries weren’t bad, and the doctors just want to make sure they get their pound of flesh.”

Forest was mollified, but the Morgans didn’t seem to get the “they’ll all be fine” memo. Even Quinn, the quietest of the Morgans, glowered and simmered from his place against the wall. A young nurse tried to move him to reach into a cabinet next to his elbow, and she was pushed back by the sharpness of his hard green eyes. Apologizing to the woman, Kiki dislodged her brother. Shoving him aside, Kiki aimed him toward a less trafficked part of the room.

The others were no less worried and certainly as fierce. He’d barely recognized Riley, who’d come to pick him up. Even though he’d gotten a phone call from Connor saying everything was okay, but they were at the hospital, Forest feared the worst when Con’s younger brother showed up at the door looking like an avenging angel ready to reap his soul. As a collective, they were a force, a roaming tsunami of bristling nerves and snapping tempers.

“Who’s here for Connor Morgan?” As one, the clan snapped around to face the man standing by the swinging doors. “He can have a visitor now. He’ll be able to go home once we get the final tests back in, but everything looks good.”

Kiki took a step, but Donal caught her gently. Nodding to Forest, he said, “It’s the boy’s time, darling. Go on, Forest. He’ll be looking for ye.”

Brigid squeezed Forest one last time and shooed him toward the door. “Tell him not to give the doctors a hard time, or I’ll be back there to remind him of his manners.”

“What about Miki St. John?” Kane growled.

“That’s who I was going to ask about next.” The nurse stood firm against Kane’s looming form. “You can come back now too.”

The walk down the hall wasn’t memorable. He left the wave of Irish behind and caught a whiff of it in someone’s voice in a room down the way. At some point along the noisy clatter of the emergency room, he’d lost Kane when the male nurse guided Kane toward one of the side rooms. Forest got a glimpse of a grit-smeared Miki, and then the man was lost from sight, swallowed up by Kane’s embrace.

Shuffling behind the nurse, Forest was led to the next open door and left there, his heart lying dead under his ribs and his love choking him when he finally saw Connor.

There was no question the man’d been through a war. He looked like shit. His eyes were ringed a painful red, turning his blue eyes to a vivid iciness. Shirtless, he was an impressive sight, even with one arm wrapped in a cast and lines of paper tape striping one shoulder, reaching down his back. Con turned, breaking off his conversation with a female nurse to smile at Forest.

Forest’s heart began to beat, and he could breathe again.

“God, you fucking scared the shit out of me.” Forest exhaled, and Con grabbed him by the wrist to drag him forward.

Their embrace was tight and bruising, and Connor’s mouth found his in a rough, hard kiss. The heat of the man’s body seared away the chill the waiting room left on Forest’s skin, and he sighed, opening himself up to Connor’s assault. He clung, suddenly more frightened than he’d been outside with the group of Celtic raiders masking themselves as civilized people. Then the rage settled in.

Shoving off Connor’s chest, Forest punched the man in the arm. Surprised, Connor yelped, and a piece of tape flapped loose, waving over Con’s shoulder.

“Fucking asshole. Actually, all of you. Fucking assholes. You scared the hell out of me!” He refused to cry. Refused to sob. Hell, he wasn’t even going to tear up because the female nurse Con’d been talking to was now trapped against the wall, cornered by Forest and Connor crowding the examination table. Moving out of the way, he let her out, then rounded on Connor before the man could fold him into another hug. “Dude, no hands. You get your hands on me—”

“I’m sorry, love,” Connor whispered. “But hey, I saved your band.”

 

 

IT WAS a small gathering of Morgans and lovers. Forest was glad for the comfort of Connor’s fingers wrapped around his. Miki paced angrily back and forth, fury pushing his steps, his hands shoved down deep into his jeans. Kane watched him, his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the wall. Connor and Kane had convinced Sionn to stay with Damie since the hospital was settling the guitarist into a room, and they’d found a common space to talk about what they were going to do.

Duarte and Kiki joined them after a few minutes, with Donal close behind. Kane held his hand out to Miki as they approached, and the singer hesitated for a moment, his body vibrating with repressed emotion, but he stepped into Kane’s space, placing his shoulders against his lover’s chest.

“Okay, I’m going to break this down for all of you now so we’re all clear on what’s going on.” Duarte nodded at Connor. “Your dad’s here as a debrief. Got it?”

“Yeah, shoot.” Kane spoke up, wrapping his arms around Miki’s waist. “Mick said he IDed the guy who broke into the Sound.”

“Miki IDed Gary Rollins as the man who cracked him over the head, shot Damien, and then closed them inside of the studio,” Kiki agreed. “The lab’s running prints to verify. We found a heavy flashlight on the floor in the reception area. Its lens was broken, and there was blood on it. We think that’s what he used to hit Miki.”

“Who the fuck else could it be?” Miki said it before Forest could. “I didn’t know the guy’s face before Forest tapped him out.”

“It’s just a precaution, son,” Donal assured him. “And if there was someone else with him, it might help us find him.”

Connor pulled Forest in, nestling against his back like Kane’d done for Miki. It felt… comfortable. Safe. Even the weight of Connor’s cast across his chest was reassuring, a reminder that the man’d come out the other side of a shitty situation and was ready to take on the world. There was a brief pressure on the back of his head, and Forest smiled, now knowing the feel of his lover’s kiss in his hair.

Connor smelled a bit of antiseptic, and he’d borrowed a T-shirt from Kane. The combination of unfamiliar laundry soap and Connor’s skin confused Forest’s brain for a bit, but the soft cotton was a damned sight better than the paper gown he’d been given to wear. It hugged every muscle on his torso, and Forest raised his hands to slide his fingers into Connor’s pockets, glad for the warmth of their pressed-in bodies.

“Do we have any leads on where Rollins is?” Connor’s voice rumbled through Forest’s chest when he spoke. “Any known associates?”

“We’re looking into people he knew before he went in.” Duarte quirked his mouth ruefully. “Family too, but so far, no one’s even wanting to admit they know the guy, much less be related to him.”

“Look, we know Rollins is probably the guy. One of the men he’d run with at the halfway house is a demolitions nut. Those smoke bombs were huge, nearly twenty-five pounds each. Too sophisticated for the average DIY, and Rollins wasn’t known for his science skills,” the senior inspector informed them. “We found one that didn’t catch. Rollins, or whoever’s helping him, had them on low-end auto-fuses. Chances are, he broke into the Sound to lay the one we found there and was surprised to find St. John and Mitchell there.”

“Most auto-fuses are good for what? An hour? Two?” Kane asked softly. “Think he stuck around to watch his handiwork?”

“More than likely. We’re asking around to see if anyone saw him or any of the other guys who bolted from the halfway house.” Kiki glanced at her father. “Captain’s given us leave to run up overtime on this. A lot of the uniforms are going door to door with photos.”

“Hell, he might even be in the area,” Duarte commented. “We’re hoping for a hit. They had to have transported the cylinders in something. Probably passing them off as rolled-up rugs. So it’ll be a van or something like that. There’s some camera shots the lab’s going through. That might help.”

“Do we know why he’s doing this?” Miki interjected. “Forest—you knew this guy for what? Five minutes?”

“Little bit more than that. I did some—” He made a face at the singer. “—some really fucking stupid things when I was a kid.”

“I still do stupid things,” Miki shot back. “Any clue why he’s stuck to your ass now?”

“Not a damned one,” he replied. “I haven’t thought about him in years. Rollins was some guy my mom’s friends brought around. That’s how I knew him. Frank knew him from before that, and it’s not like he went to jail for roughing me up. Shit, I didn’t even think he was arrested. Frank was the one the cops hauled in.”

“Yeah, Rollins’d been tagged,” Kiki said. “Then he had a few run-ins with parents about inappropriate behavior. Was logged in as a sex offender and was caught trying to molest a kid on a soccer field. That’s what sent him in, finally.”

“What about that kid’s family?” Con shifted his arms tighter around Forest’s chest. “You guys have an eye on them? If Rollins is after his past victims, he could hit on them too.”

“We’re in touch,” Duarte said. “Family’s left the state. So far, it seems like he’s only lashing out at Ackerman. It might be Rollins didn’t mean to murder Marshall, or maybe he thinks both of them are responsible somehow for his incarceration. I can’t speculate about motive right now. It’s not as important as finding him.”

“So what do we do?” Kane looked at his brother when they spoke at once. Connor shook his head, and Kane continued, “Short of killing this guy.”

“Totally an option.” Connor tightened his arms around Forest’s shoulders.

“I’d rather see him in jail, boys.” Donal spoke softly. “Let the courts have him and walk away.”

“Not that I don’t agree with you, Da,” Connor replied. “But I’m telling you, on this one, it’s hard.”

“I know. It’s hard on us all. This man’s hit at us, but we’re going to hit back.” Donal squared his shoulders. “In the meantime, go home. Take care of yer own and stay safe. And be on yer guard. No telling what this bastard’s got up his sleeve.”

 

 

“SIT DOWN,” Forest ordered Connor for the third time that evening, pushing his lover back down onto the couch after he came back from the kitchen. “The drops go in its eyes or it gets the hose.”

“I would pay money to see you try to beat me with a hose,” Con grumbled back.

It was late, and Connor’d been lounging in the family room, debating if he should call it a night and sleep. A look at his bare-chested lover in loose sweats changed his mind. There were other things he could be doing besides sleeping, most of them centering on Forest.

“I wouldn’t be the one doing the beating,” Forest countered. “I’ll call your mom and ask her to do it.”

“Oh, wickedly unfair there, boyo.” The man laid on his accent thickly, but he eased back, resting his head on the cushions. “Okay, do your worst.”

“Hold on. I forgot a towel.” Forest patted Con’s chest. “Do not get off the couch.”

He waited, still staring up at the ceiling, for Forest to return. When the man finally found a clean hand towel to use, he sat on the couch next to Connor, yelping when Con dragged him over to sit on his legs.

“Least you can do is ride me while you do this.” He stroked at Forest’s sides, spanning his hands around to the small of his lover’s back.

“I’m not riding you for a while, dude,” Forest reminded him. “Doctor said to rest. Your lungs took a beating. I’m surprised they let you go.”

“Just a bit banged up. Miki did more damage to me than anything else.” Con raised his plaster-wrapped forearm. “Bastard’s like a goddamn ferret stuck in your pants. Watch your shit around him. Especially now you’re their drummer.”

“Yeah, I am. Aren’t I? That is so cool. I can’t—even. No words.” Forest beamed, a crinkle of a smile taking over his face. Tsking humbly, he gripped Connor’s chin and moved his face to the side. “Look up.”

“You’re going to get more in my eyes this time, right?” Con glanced at him from under his lashes. “The inside of my ear is still soaking wet.”

“If you weren’t such a dick about getting stuff close to your eyes, you could do it yourself,” Forest reminded him. “Now stay still. Or better yet, talk to me while I do this. What did Sionn just say about Damie when you talked to him?”

“Damie’s doing okay. Resting. They’re sending him home tomorrow. Miki’s growling at people, but I think that just means he’s okay too. Kane’s going to see if he can get Miki to go home in a bit.” The first drop hit, and it felt like Forest shoved an ice shard down into his eye. Biting his lip to avoid yelping, Connor grabbed at his lover’s ass. “Shite, that’s cold.”

“Four on each side.” Forest moved the towel over and cupped Connor’s cheek. “Hold on. Gotta do the other three.”

He could stand the three, Connor told himself. He’d handled worse, but the second drop struck his eye and chilled him down to his spine. His ass clenched in response, and the twitch of his hips nearly unseated Forest.

“Really?” The man looked down at him, fingers firmly holding Connor’s jaw. “You’re being a baby. Damie got shot. You and Miki just have to get eye drops, and he’s probably doing them himself.”

“That’s because he’s a fucking ferret. I’m telling you, boy’s inhuman.” Connor settled down again, lightly resting his hands on Forest’s thighs. “Hope Kane never pisses him off. Bastard’ll gut him as soon as look at him.”

“Nah, Miki’s cool,” Forest said as he quickly let another two drops go into Con’s right eye.

“Shit, warn a man!” Con hissed, blinking furiously.

“Yeah, incoming.”

He saw Forest shrug; then the towel covered Con’s eye.

“Keep it closed. You’re supposed to let the drops sit. You’re one of those guys who’s a big baby when he’s got a cold, aren’t you?”

Connor wasn’t going to humble himself to answer the question. Sniffing, he tasted the drops in the back of his throat and made a face. “God that’s like piss down my mouth.”

“I don’t even want to know who you’ve let pee into your mouth, ’cause it ain’t going to be me.”

Connor kept one eye—the unmolested eye—open and regarded his lover. Forest looked… settled. Maybe even happy. There was a crease of worry between the man’s large brown eyes, but that was for Miki and Damien. He’d reminded Forest several times that the shot to the guitarist’s calf hadn’t been serious, and other than an overnight stay in the hospital and a keen watch for infection, he’d be as good as new. Miki’d been given the same drops and treatment as Connor. A flush of their systems and a few beeping machines verified their health.

And he thanked God for that because he had enough on his hands as it was—seeing as they were currently curved over Forest’s ass.

“You know, once you get these drops in, I might be persuaded into being coddled a bit,” Connor said gruffly. “You know, to soothe my self-esteem. I went into a smoking building for you.”

“And I’m grateful for that,” Forest replied solemnly, the worry in his face lightening a little. “Do you need coddling? What’s involved in that? Foot massages? Hot towels after you shave?”

“I’ll write you a list.” Connor tangled his fingers into Forest’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Cupping his cast to the small of Forest’s back, he craned up and dipped his tongue past Forest’s lips, tasting the soft heat he found there.

Forest made a husky mewling noise in his throat, and Connor was more than willing to forgo the drops. In fact, if he could reach the table next to the couch, he’d pull out the bottle of lube he’d tucked in there and show Forest point by point everything that should be on a coddling list, including a few he had in mind to do to Forest if the man ever felt like he needed it. He opened his mouth, about to suggest just that, when the house suddenly went silent.

Then they were plunged into a deep, heavy darkness.