by R Phoenix
Kolt could hear the fae’s footsteps as he crossed the room, and his voice became a little more distant. “I see. Then, by all means, talk.”
The detective didn’t go into the office, instead, leaning in the doorway with his back toward Kolt while he looked in. “Anyone out there tonight that you hate? Because if you could throw them under the bus, that’d be great,” Ackerman said dryly.
“What about those I like?” Leandro retorted. A drawer slid open in the other room. “Will you protect them, Detective?”
“Jesus Christ,” Ackerman muttered, and Kolt turned slightly to see what was happening. “You really expect me to work fucking miracles? You’re the one with all the magic. I gotta do this shit the mundane way, okay? No, I can’t protect them. They’re on their own for now, but it’s a one off, okay? I needed to get on this team. You made that very clear. This is the price you pay for it,” he said stiffly, clearly not pleased.
Paper rustled, then the drawer closed. “Are you fond of my incubus, Detective? Or do you hold resentment toward him for what befell you?”
Kolt wanted to leave instantly when the conversation turned to him. It took all he had not to get up and go. He would’ve done it too, if it wouldn’t have gotten him in more trouble with Leandro.
“He made his choice. I don’t care about him,” Ackerman said with a shrug.
It shouldn’t have hurt to hear that, but it did.
“Can we stay on topic? I don’t have a lot of time before I’ll be missed by that asshole Rickman,” Ackerman added.
Leandro emerged from the office, stepping into the detective’s personal space until they were almost chest-to-chest. “Kolt isn’t registered,” he said casually, even as he offered out his own credentials. “Nor will he be. I will give you one name that will make you look quite good.”
“Which is…?” Ackerman asked, taking the paperwork from the fae and looking at it with clear disinterest.
Leandro pressed in closer, his hand casually settling on the small of Ackerman’s back. The fae was stronger than he looked, and he didn’t release the detective even when the human tried to step away. “I’m feeling generous,” he said softly.
Not that anyone could tell that from watching this.
“Kolt? Please give the good detective here a name you’ll both appreciate him having, hmm?”
Kolt caught himself gaping. Leandro wasn’t usually this touchy-feely with people other than him, and he’d never cared about who his pet liked, disliked, or wanted dead. “...eh… Barsum,” Kolt said after a gobsmacked moment.
“No, I know him. He’ll think it’s retaliation,” Bryce said, handing Leandro his papers back in a thinly veiled attempt to make the fae take his hands off of him.
Kolt glanced askance at Leandro, wanting to pick a name that he’d approve of.
Leandro hummed softly, ignoring the papers. He looked at Kolt expectantly.
“Nero,” Kolt offered instead. Nero wasn’t the worst one out there, not by far, but Leandro hated him with a passion.
“Mm, I’m afraid not. He angered me too recently. It would be too convenient.”
“Gabriel,” Kolt tried. The guy was an entitled jackass, who’d practically scalped him in some fucked up attempt to deep-throat him. His behavior was only escalating, and he knew Gideon didn’t like him either. “Or Sal Larder,” he added, names coming quicker now, as he recalled every wrong done to him because he was an incubus, or because he was a slave, or because he was Leandro’s — or any other reason beyond his actual control.
“Just pick one. I don’t give a shit. I can keep Kolt out of the picture anyway,” Ackerman said, growing impatient.
Leandro fell silent, his eyes trained on the detective’s. “Gabriel Fisher,” he said after a long moment. “I expect you’ll receive quite a few accolades for handling him.” He finally released the detective, taking the papers and tucking them away inside of his suit jacket. “Now that he’s verified our documentation, shall we return downstairs to see how much of a mess those brutes are making, Kolt?” He held his hand out expectantly for him to take.
Kolt rose from the couch, but before he could move closer, Ackerman’s hand was on Leandro’s chest.
“Slow up. There’s more,” Ackerman said grimly. “I lied a lot to get on this task force for you,” he continued, dropping his hand back to his side. “I told them I have a CI, someone on the inside of your business, someone close enough to you that the intel is worthwhile — hence the raid,” he explained. “If you give me one of your guys as a criminal informant, I keep my story, and it’s the perfect way to get info to you, without having to show up here and make people wonder about my involvement with you.”
“Gideon would make a good informant, I suppose,” Leandro said carelessly. “He’s already been showing a great deal of interest in you.”
“Yeah. I kinda noticed.” Ackerman nodded.
“Good. Then that’s settled,” Leandro said. He didn’t move, though, not yet. “If you ever touch my incubus again, I will serve you your own scrotum on a platter,” he went on without missing a beat, and the chill in that tone settled deep in Kolt’s bones. He smiled as pleasantly as if he weren’t talking about harrowing mutilation and humiliation.
Kolt stared, as did Ackerman, and it was Leandro who spurred them to action once more.
“Come, before they begin to think you’ve seduced me.” The fae chuckled breezily.
“Right,” Ackerman said, clearing his throat and glancing at Kolt in turn. “Maybe it’s best if he stays up here,” he said, “so no one else will try to check his identification.”
To Kolt’s surprise, Leandro paused but didn’t argue. It was only a second before his mind seemed to be made up, and the fae’s attention drifted back to him. “I won’t be terribly long, my Kolt,” he crooned, crossing the distance to stand before him. “Enjoy a bath,” he suggested in a way that wasn’t a suggestion at all.
The fae’s lips were demanding as he leaned in and kissed Kolt insistently. He was still a little surprised and dazed, letting it happen. Leandro touched his jaw lightly, before simply turning for the door.
“Come then, Detective. You’ve an image to maintain now,” he said to Ackerman.
Kolt felt his throat close up. He had hoped he could get a word in edgewise, to quietly let the guy know he wanted out, that he needed help. Even if Gideon was right, even if Leandro would never let him go, he had to try.
But the detective had said he didn’t care, and now he was just leaving without a second glance at him. His chance of at least getting on the Organization’s radar was walking out the door. The wards once again fell away, letting the pair of them out.
Kolt found himself trailing after them pointlessly.
Neither man looked back as they left him behind.
Chapter Fifteen
Kolt had wanted the break, but he still didn’t do well on his own. He was an incubus; he thrived in company. Now, left all alone up in Leandro’s loft, he was practically climbing the walls. It had been less than an hour, but he didn’t know how long it would take to check everyone’s identification, or to frame Gabriel. He supposed that either way, the night would be pretty much over once they were done and leaving. Who would want to go back to their chosen method of suspension of disbelief where a police raid had just taken place?
Kolt had showered quickly and spent some time watching TV, but he couldn’t keep his attention on anything for longer than a few minutes. He was restless, and he wanted to be downstairs. He wanted to be among people.
He heard more than felt the wards on the doors fall away as someone came up. Kolt was already up on his feet — wearing nothing but one of Leandro’s old shirts — to pathetically greet the fae at the door like a lonely puppy. He didn’t get that far though, as it wasn’t Leandro who came through the door.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, disgruntled.
“Leandro wants you downstairs,” Gideon said. If he cared about Kolt’s tone, he didn
’t show it. He nodded to the door. “Come on.”
“I was supposed to stay here,” Kolt answered dryly. He wasn’t even wearing pants because he hadn’t expected to need them again. “Are the cops still there?” he asked.
“They’re finishing up now,” Gideon replied. “Leandro wants you to wait for him in the lounge.”
“...The detective too?”
Gideon looked at him, expressionless. “Finishing up now,” he repeated. He nodded to the door. “Let’s go, Kolt.”
He hated it when he got ordered around like that, and part of him just wanted to refuse flat out, but he drew in a breath. He needed a favor, a big one, and if Gideon decided to be a dick instead of helping him, he could be in deep shit for it. Kolt bit his lower lip and shifted his weight from one foot to the other restlessly.
For a moment, they stood there in silence, then Gideon finally asked, “There a reason you’re trying to piss Leandro off again?”
“Like that takes effort,” Kolt scoffed, shaking his head. He needed to get out, but the mere idea of talking to Bryce Ackerman, or even asking Gideon for help, had his heart in his throat and his hands shaking.
Gideon’s eyes slid over him, and he couldn’t identify what it was, exactly, but the man seemed to soften slightly even though his voice didn’t. “We don’t have time for you to hesitate. You want to say something, say it.”
“I need to talk to the detective,” Kolt practically whispered. “If Leandro finds out, he’ll kill me, but I—” He felt his throat seize up and he swallowed. “Will you help me? I’ll be quick, I promise. I need like five seconds.”
Gideon’s breath caught in a hiss, and he stared at Kolt.
Fuck. Had he just signed his own death warrant just by asking?
“He’s a dick,” Gideon said flatly. “You better be sure he’s not going to rat on you.” He turned, already on his way back to the door.
Kolt was flabbergasted, not sure if this was really happening. Maybe Gideon would just go straight to Leandro, or set him up or—
“Wait, I need—” he started to say.
Gideon cut him off. “Don’t bother putting pants on. Leandro’ll be in a better mood with you like that.”
Kolt looked down at himself. He didn’t much like that implication, and he hated how dirty it made him feel. “Okay,” he muttered, tugging at the edges of the shirt to make sure it wasn’t too short before quickly following after Gideon — still tense, still half-certain he was going to get crucified for this.
Gideon held the door open for him. “Go to the men’s room, then get to the lounge when you’re done,” he said, closing the door once Kolt had gone through. “Make it fast. I’m not taking the fall for you if this goes bad.”
And it could go really bad.
Gideon had agreed a little too fast. The idea that this was somehow just all part of some vindictive game of Leandro’s wouldn’t leave the forefront of his mind.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, figuring he might as well pay the executioner. He offered a fleeting smile and slunk off towards the men’s room.
Gideon let him go, and not even two minutes later, the door opened. He braced himself, half-expecting to see Leandro there, but it was Detective Bryce Ackerman who had come in behind him.
“Shit. Fuck. Is this a fucking trap?” the man asked, looking like he might just leave again. His hand was already on the door handle.
“What? No,” Kolt said hastily. He took a step forward, acutely aware of how he wasn’t actually dressed. He hated it, the chill on his bare legs, and the fact that just stepping forward seemed to draw attention to them.
“Really,” Bryce said. “So, a fucking test then? Dress you up all nice and hot, just the way I like, then send me to you? That’s not the—”
“No!” Kolt hissed darkly. “You need to get me out,” he went on quickly, still feeling like Leandro could walk in any fucking minute. He always seemed to show up when Kolt least wanted him to.
Bryce looked at him, narrowing his eyes and looking back at the door. “What happened to your own free will?” he asked. Clearly, he was going to make this difficult.
“I lied. He was right there. What the fuck did you think I was going to say?” Kolt countered, not wanting to say that he’d been okay up until then — that it had all been fine, even good sometimes, but now things had changed.
“Yeah, I guess. You’ve done nothing but lie since I’ve met you, so why shouldn’t I have assumed?” Bryce said, giving him a look that spoke volumes. He didn’t believe him, didn’t trust him.
“Did you mean it earlier, when you said you didn’t care?” Kolt asked quietly. “You cared before, enough to get on Gideon’s bad side…”
“I cared then, yeah. I was certain you needed help. Now I’m not. Why are you here? Why should I believe you?” Bryce asked.
Desperation settled in the pit of his stomach. “There’s no reason you should,” Kolt admitted. “Why would I ask for your help though, if I didn’t need it?”
“Because Leandro wants to fuck with me,” Bryce suggested.
“Then fucking go, okay? I don’t have time for bullshit. If Leandro knows we’re even talking… Just fucking go if you won’t help me,” Kolt said hotly, hoping to God that he wasn’t going to go, but fearing it anyway. He’d be stuck here, with Leandro and his brand of crazy forever.
The detective didn’t move. “You really want out?”
“Yes,” Kolt said. “Please, just take me in because I’m unregistered, or whatever. You can arrest me. He won’t be able to take on the entire Organization.” He was talking fast, too fast, and he could see that the brilliance of his plan didn’t resonate with Detective Ackerman with every word he spoke. His courage began to falter.
“You don’t get arrested for not being registered. You just get registered, Kolt,” he muttered. “I can’t get you out right now, but I can see what I can do,” he amended, not sounding like the arrogant jackass who had said he just needed to say the word.
“But you can do it?” Kolt insisted.
“Yeah, it can be done. It’ll take some time and planning, and I mean… The law is fuzzy about fae, which doesn’t make it easy.”
“How long?” Kolt asked.
“I don’t know. Just some time, okay? Just sit tight.”
Kolt stared in disbelief. Sit tight was not what he’d been hoping for. Sit tight was not how he was going to make it to the end of the week, the month, the year. He wanted to get the hell away.
“A week?” he ventured, because a week seemed like something he could do.
“Maybe a month, or more, I don’t know. Look, I’ll try, okay?” Bryce assured him, but he was already opening the door to leave the bathroom.
Kolt couldn’t fucking believe it. He’d gone out on a limb for this. He’d risked his fucking hide for nothing!
He felt angry, enraged in fact. Yet as soon as the bathroom door closed behind Bryce, he could feel tears burning behind his eyes.
Gideon was fucking right. The guy was a douchebag, and he shouldn’t have come out to see him. It had been risky and stupid, and in the end, entirely fucking pointless. No one cared. Even when they said they did, they fucking didn’t. He swallowed hard, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t going to cry.
He wasn’t going to fucking cry!
Chapter Sixteen
If Leandro found out what he’d done for Kolt, it wouldn’t be good for anyone — but he couldn’t help but think the incubus would suffer the most. Gideon lounged back against the bar, his expression blank, as he watched the door to the bathroom. He looked for all the world like he didn’t give a fuck that he might be pissing off a powerful fae by making him wait on his boytoy.
Even one who was already pissed off and likely riding a razor’s edge as it was after his casino had been raided.
It had been stupid to arrange the clandestine meeting between Leandro’s slave and his pet detective, but he hadn’t been able to say no. He should have. He sho
uld’ve just hauled Kolt’s ass to the lounge to wait for Leandro and made sure Ackerman was gone. He wasn’t altogether sure why he’d gone soft in the first place.
He remained passive when the detective left the men’s bathroom. Gideon’s gaze followed the man as he caught up with the last stragglers of the raid, leaving the disgruntled crowd behind in the casino. Everything went quiet for several moments before Kolt finally emerged from the bathroom.
He straightened, watching the incubus, who… didn’t look right. He didn’t look hopeful, or relieved, or anything good. He looked upset, and it instantly raised Gideon’s hackles. Kolt didn’t look at him, nor look for him, and instead just headed to the lounge as he’d been instructed before his little act of rebellion. The incubus attracted a number of stares, and Gideon realized that perhaps he should’ve put on pants after all.
Not that Kolt gave a fuck, clearly.
Gideon crossed the room, following him into the lounge and closing the door. Leandro hadn’t made it there yet, and he didn’t have time to debate how bright of an idea it was to try to find out more about what had happened in the bathroom. “He isn’t going to help you, is he?” he guessed.
Kolt looked at him. His eyes were uncharacteristically dull, his expression blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice flat too.
Gideon briefly searched Kolt’s gaze. “How much did you risk, talking to him? He gonna repeat anything?” Gideon pressed. “We don’t have time for this shit, Kolt.” His voice sharpened. “If I’m going to protect you, I need to know what I’m protecting you from.” He felt exposed, showing his cards like this. It was dangerous to admit to these things, and it could come back and bite him in the ass.
“I don’t fucking know!” Kolt snarled at him, dodging his gaze. “He said—” But he didn’t finish his sentence, shaking his head angrily instead. “He made it sound like it would be so easy, and now with the raid, I figured…” the incubus went on after a moment, shrugging. “Apparently it’s not that simple, so basically, he was full of shit.” The last words came out in a quiet mutter as Kolt crossed his arms over his chest.
