by C J Baty
"The way I heard it, the guy was going bat-shit crazy. You stepped in and talked him down," she said as she put her bag and coat away, before closing the office door. She followed Robert behind the bar and picked up her apron.
"Not exactly the way it happened, but he did have some kind of panic attack," Robert said. "I was only trying to help. Can we just drop it?"
Robert watched as Krystal followed her daily routine and hoped she would let it go. Being quiet as she worked left Robert worried. Finally, with the last table wiped, she came behind the bar and made herself a cup of coffee. Still
saying nothing, she took her favorite seat at the bar and blew on her cup before she took a drink.
He couldn't stand it any longer. He threw his notebook and pen down on the bar and stared at Krystal. "Why don't you just go ahead and tell me what you think. You know you're dying to give me your opinion."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Krystal took another sip of her coffee. She finished her cup and took it to the sink without uttering a word.
She moved so slow, Robert was pretty sure a turtle would win a race with her. Why was this woman a friend of his when she so clearly frustrated him beyond words?
"Krystal." He growled.
She returned to her seat and crossed her hands in front of her on the bar.
She lifted her aqua blue eyes to him and smiled. Not one of her trademark
"kiss my ass" grins. No. It was this dripping with honey, sweet smile that made Robert want to punch her right in the mouth.
"Robert, it's clear that when it comes to one Damien Fitzgerald, you are a little confused," she said calmly. "And far be it from me to point out something that is as clear as the neon Bud Light sign flashing behind you.
You have the hots for the man."
With that, she rose from her seat, adjusted her apron and left the lounge.
Robert stared after her, gob smacked.
He was still standing there, staring after her, as Peter and Marcus entered the lounge. After a few moments, Peter waved his hand in front of Robert's face and called out to him.
"Earth to Robert."
"Robert, everything okay?" Marcus added.
"I'm not sure." Robert shook his head. "Yes, it's fine. What are you doing in here? It's a little early for a drink."
"What was up with Krystal? She had this shit-eating grin on her face as we passed her in the hall," Peter said.
Robert picked up his notebook and stored it behind the bar. He busied himself by wiping down the bottles of liquor on the shelves behind him. The last thing he wanted to do right now was answer that question.
"Listen, I wanted to say again, how much we appreciated what you did for Damien yesterday. It was amazing the effect you had on him," Marcus stated.
"Justin said, you were exactly what he needed," Peter added.
"Look, I was just trying to help. It was clear he was upset, and I just tried to calm him down." Robert didn't want any thanks.
"Even so, I was wondering if you'd had any special training for a situation like that," Marcus asked.
Robert hadn't thought about it in a long time, but, yeah, he'd had plenty of practice. "My kid brother, Alfie, was autistic and sometimes I could calm him down when nothing else seemed to work," Robert said softly.
"Man, I didn't even know you had a brother," Peter said.
Robert looked from Peter to Marcus. "He died about ten years ago."
"Sorry, man," Peter uttered.
"It was a long time ago."
Robert fixed coffee for the three of them and no one talked for a while.
Marcus accepted his cup, and then said, "I wanted to let you know, Damien was doing okay this morning. Justin stayed with him through the night. His voice is pretty rough from all the shouting and screaming he did, but he'll be okay. He even ate a little breakfast."
"I'm glad to hear he's okay," Robert said.
Robert was relieved when the conversation became light and moved on to different subjects. Krystal joined them and kept Peter talking about Sally's pregnancy. Eventually, Marcus and Peter left as the early afternoon crowd began to wander in, a few people at a time. Krystal got busy waiting on tables. Robert stayed behind the bar and kept his thoughts to himself.
Through the evening, Krystal would bring orders to him to be filled, but she never brought up anything personal again. By the time the second shift barman and waitress came in, Robert was ready to go. He'd stop by the office to give Peter and Justin the daily tally before leaving the hotel.
Chapter Five
Damien closed his phone after looking at Tony's messages. Justin was mad, and Damien was sorry about that, but he needed to get out of here.
"You can't go back to Atlanta by yourself."
Justin had repeated that same phrase three times already, and he was getting pissed. Damien could tell from the rise in his voice each time he said it. He couldn't help the smile he felt spreading across his face. Riling Justin up was always fun, but that didn't change the fact that he needed to go to Atlanta.
"Look, Justin, I appreciate your concern." Damien hesitated before adding, "I know you're worried after what happened. But that was days ago and I'm feeling so much better. I'll be fine on my own."
"Marcus said you weren't to go anywhere on your own, and you know that.
He'll be back day after tomorrow. Just wait for him," Justin pleaded.
"Besides, the weather reports look worse and worse these days. The temps are lower than I can ever remember for this time of year. More rain is coming too. The reports are also saying freezing rain is possible."
"I'm not worried about the weather. It's the least of my problems. Where the hell did Marcus go, anyway?"
Damien refilled his coffee cup from the carafe on the sideboard. He waited for Justin to speak up, and when he didn't, Damien knew something else wasn't being said. He turned to face Justin and saw the pain etched in his eyes.
"What the hell is wrong?"
Justin sat down in the chair at his desk and rubbed his hands through his hair. Damien recognized one of the little signs Justin gave off when he was upset or worried. Something was wrong.
"Marcus got a call early this morning." Justin closed his eyes, then opened them, staring up at Damien. "Michael Winehouse was seen in South Beach, Florida two nights ago."
Damien sat down and waited for the rest.
Justin cleared his throat. "People overheard him saying, he was back and on a mission to get revenge on the man who had destroyed his life. He was drunk, and he could have been talking about anyone."
"But Marcus didn't think so or he wouldn't have left in such a hurry," Damien stated.
It was strange. This news didn't panic him the way the information about Moses Lee and Carter had. Sure, it would be a problem if Winehouse were after him, but the man was an asshole. Someone who took advantage of the poorest people he could find. He was scum, but Damien didn't feel like he was that much of a threat.
"All right. Marcus will check on him. He's in Florida. I'm going to Atlanta."
Damien picked up his coffee cup. The liquid had gone cold. "Tony has been leaving messages, wanting to know when I'll be back."
"Tony?" Justin looked confused.
"He's this kid I hired to be my assistant, and he's been doing research on two projects I want to write articles on." Damien needed to be working. It would help him to redirect his thinking.
"You still shouldn't go alone. Marcus won't like it."
"I need fresh clothes, so I'm going to my apartment. And I really need to check in with Tony." Damien rose and walked to the door. "I might even have a new assignment from the chief editor's desk."
"Marcus said you weren't to tell anyone where you were staying," Justin said as he followed Damien.
"He doesn't want me to tell my assistant? Justin, he's a kid who just follows orders. This is ridiculous. Do you do everything Marcus tells you to do?
Never thought you'd turn into such a housew
ife." Damien couldn't help the sarcastic remark. He knew Justin was only concerned for him, but he didn't need a fucking mother hen.
Justin stopped and straightened his back. His face, usually open and caring, took on a harsh look. "This is reality Damien. Someone out there," he gestured with his hands, "is threatening you and could want to kill you. You realize that, don't you?"
Damien was sorry he had hurt his friend, but he needed time to himself, and there was no better time to escape than now. He opened the door and closed it behind him, before Justin could say another word. The rental agency was sending over a car. He had packed his bag. Damien had every intention of coming back. Marcus and Justin were his friends, and he knew they only wanted to protect him. Hurting either of them was the last thing on his mind. Staying busy was the medicine he needed to keep all this stress and tension at bay.
"Where the hell are you?" Tony started as soon as Damien answered the call.
"Well—"
"What the fuck do you think you are doing, not letting anyone know where you are?"
"Well—"
"There's just no damn excuse for disappearing on me like that!"
Tony took a breath and it gave Damien a chance to jump into the conversation. He pictured his assistant standing by his desk, left foot tapping anxiously as he spoke. Damien smiled.
"Well, if you'd let me get a word in, I might answer those questions." Damien chuckled when he heard Tony's huff over the line.
"Fine."
"I'm on my way back to Atlanta." Damien wanted to add where he'd been; however, he remembered Justin's warning and left that information out.
"Good. I've got a few leads on that last story you were working on. You won't believe who the fake companies and business names connect to."
Damien felt that familiar rush—the one he always got when he was on the tail of some scumbag he would take down. He loved that rush. There was nothing better. Well, one thing was better, but he had no time to think about that either. A flash of Robert Wyler's face passed across Damien's mind and he shuddered.
"Damien, are you listening?" Tony asked.
"Yes. I heard every word," Damien answered, and then added, "See you in three or four hours. I need to go by my place and then I'll come into the office."
"Great, see you then, boss." Damien could be wrong, but Tony sounded emotional as he added, "I've missed you," and hung up.
The man was a walking contradiction.
"What do you mean you canceled my rental?" Damien flustered.
"I said, you can't go to Atlanta alone." Justin smirked.
"So, how am I supposed to get there Mr. Follow Marcus's Orders ?"
"Here's your ride now." Justin's smirk morphed into a broad grin.
Damien turned to see Robert Wyler standing behind him. He was wearing a dark green corduroy jacket that set off his gray eyes, and the smile on his face made them crinkle at the corners. Shit.
"What the hell!" He couldn't help it. There was no way he could sit in a car with Robert Wyler during a four-hour drive to Atlanta. The embarrassment of his panic attack was still too fresh. Heat rose in his cheeks as he remembered the morning after the night on the beach as well. What in the hell was he supposed to do with Robert when they got to Atlanta?
"No. No fucking way." Damien sucked in a breath.
"Look, this wasn't my idea. I volunteered because Justin asked me to. I'm doing him a favor. This has nothing to do with you." Robert's words were harsh. "Now, get your ass into my Jeep before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. It's not like I haven't done it before. Now!"
Damien jumped at the growl that accompanied Robert's last word and his cock hardened. What the fuck? He didn't like dominant men, and he didn't like being pushed around either. This would never work.
The muscles on Robert's face relaxed and his eyes softened and pleaded with Damien. "They're just concerned for your welfare. I'll stay out of your way. Okay?"
Robert turned and walked toward the lobby doors. Damien stood in his spot and didn't know what to do. Justin calling his name brought him out of his trance.
"Think of him as a bodyguard. I mean, he definitely looks like one." Justin chuckled.
"Did you tell him what is going on?" Damien asked between clinched teeth.
"It isn't any of his business."
Justin shook his head. "No, I didn't. He heard me talking to Marcus on the phone about my concerns and he volunteered. He's a nice guy, Damien. You need to give him a chance."
Damien wondered what Justin meant by that statement. Give him a chance to do what? Dominant me? Break me? Crush me when I fall for him?
Thankfully, the drive was uneventful. They listened to a radio station out of Atlanta that was talking about the winter storm hitting the Midwestern states. It was expected to reach Iowa and Illinois sometime overnight. The announcer said, the problem was that a northern blast of cold air would join up with the wet snow, causing freezing conditions in many areas. Nothing new for that part of the country, but what was really worrying everyone was the storm front coming in behind this one, moving south east. It was likely, in a few days, that southern states that seldom saw snow could look forward to several inches of the stuff.
Every once in a while, Robert would let out a deep sigh. Damien couldn't care less about the weather. When he went back to The Warfield, it was unlikely they would see any snow there. More importantly, it never snowed in Atlanta, so what was there to worry about?
"Man, those storms sound like they are brewing up lots of trouble for everyone." Robert broke the silence with his observations.
"I doubt it will give us any trouble. The weather people always try to make it sound worse than it is." Damien shrugged. "Besides, we both know, we get little snow this far south."
"Still, I should make a trip up to my cabin, to be sure it's ready for any unusual winter weather. I haven't been up there since last spring," Robert stated.
"You have a cabin?" Damien snorted. "That makes perfect sense."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, look at you. All that muscle. You probably hunt for your food too."
Damien chuckled.
"I can, if I need to," Robert answered. "But I would never hunt for sport."
The sound of empathy in Robert's voice surprised Damien. Then he remembered those whispered words that had calmed him so completely when his world had been spinning out of control. No one had ever talked him down from his panic attacks. The medicines were the only thing that
had worked until Robert Wyler's soothing words. Damien could still hear them in the back of his mind.
"Babe, I've got you. Shush now. I've got you."
A tingle slithered its way up Damien's spine. It left him feeling warm and sated.
"Now, get your ass into my Jeep before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. It's not like I haven't done it before. Now!"
But those words were the complete opposite. They infuriated Damien.
Though, the tingle didn't go away. It was still there, and it confused the hell out of him.
"I told Tony, I'd meet him at the office in about an hour," Damien said as he got out of the Jeep in front of his apartment building. "I'll only be a few minutes, if you want to wait here."
Robert jumped out of the Jeep and locked it with one click on his remote.
"Nice try. But I think I'll just go up with you," Robert said as he came to stand beside Damien. "I always wondered how a top-notch journalist lived."
He laughed as he held the lobby door open for Damien.
The elevator doors closed, shutting them in the tiny confines of its four walls.
"What floor?" Robert asked.
"Tenth."
"Who's Tony? Latest boyfriend?" Robert teased.
"My assistant at the newspaper." Damien didn't add that there wasn't a boyfriend.
The only sound as the elevator rose was a low hum. Damien had been alone with Robert for too long. His body was reacting to the p
roximity they had shared in the Jeep and now in the elevator. He would not let himself fall for this man. That was not going to happen.
The elevator door slid open on the tenth floor and Damien walked the length of the corridor to his apartment. He was reaching to put the key in the lock when the door swung open. Robert grabbed his wrist and stopped him from entering. The frame around the lock had been pried open. There were broken pieces of wood lying on the floor.
"Someone wanted in here badly enough to break the lock. Me first," Robert whispered.
The apartment was dark, and after Robert went through the door, Damien felt for the switch on the wall just inside. The lamp sitting on the table by the door came on and they could see into the living room. Damien sucked in his breath. Robert mumbled something under his that Damien didn't catch.
Shock. He was in shock. His apartment was a disaster. Tables overturned.
Couch cushions tossed about and ripped open, their contents spilling onto the carpet. The television, smashed, lay in a heap on the floor. Everything from the bookcases was strewn about the room.
"Bedroom?" Robert asked.
Damien pointed down the hall, but he couldn't speak. He thought it was funny that a journalist couldn't find any words. Damien chuckled, then he laughed, and he couldn't stop. He was becoming hysterical. That thought made him laugh harder.
"Damien!" Robert shouted from the bedroom.
The mattress was sliced open and lay half on the bed and half on the floor.
Flung about the room haphazardly, clothing from his dresser drawers littered every available space. Pictures that had been hanging on the wall were now smashed into the carpet.
A multitude of emotions coursed through him. His home had been invaded, and he felt violated. Why would someone do this? Whatever could they have been looking for?
"What did they want?" Damien said as he dropped to his knees.
Robert sat beside him, taking his hand. "I don't think they wanted anything.
This looks like someone had a tantrum and just destroyed things because they could. Maybe they expected to find you here, and when they didn't, rage took over."
