Livingston

by J. M. Dabney

  He tensed at the impending violence and didn’t relax until Raul left the room. He wasn’t used to violence and anger, around Trenton Security it was barely leashed, always simmering just below the surface.

  “Do you do that on purpose?”

  “Raul asks for it.”

  It was all Livingston said before the big man took his hand and led him out of the break room. Livingston slipped his fingers between his, and a sense of calm came over him. Whatever happened he didn’t doubt that Livingston would protect him. He tried not to think about what would happen when they left the building instead he focused on Livingston’s touch. The way the big man held his hand as they stepped out onto a public street.

  He imagined it was a normal day. He ignored the situation.

  “I know what I want for my reward.”

  He smiled as Livingston brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed his knuckles.

  “And what would that be, boy?”

  “Ice cream sundae, a Guinness World Record sized sundae with extra hot fudge.”

  “Out of everything you could have, you want ice cream?”

  “So much ice cream.”

  The deep bass of Livingston’s laughter made him bury his face against the big man’s chest.

  “You’re obsessed. Who was talking about looking fat?”

  “But it’s ice cream.”

  “Then you can have all the ice cream you want.”

  He tilted his head back and smiled up at Livingston. Livingston stroked the back of his fingers down his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

  If anyone else told him he was beautiful, he’d cringe at the mention of it. He knew he was attractive. Enough people thought that word was the be-all of flattery. He was supposed to be grateful for it, but to anyone else, it was a shallow compliment and one casually thrown around. Livingston believed him beautiful and didn’t consider it an empty attempt at fucking him.

  “I’ll be okay, right?”

  “You’ll be curled up in bed tonight with your reward. Just take a deep breath, you do this for a camera all the time. You were born for this role.”

  “Dying isn’t exactly Oscar-worthy.”

  “Depends on how well you do it.”

  He stepped off the curb, and according to plan, a series of shots could be heard. One whirred past his ear, and he inwardly cursed. He felt the minute power of the mini-explosions against his chest through the vest. Livingston’s big body taking him to the ground knocked the breath from his lungs. He panicked at the inability to take in oxygen. Screams echoed around him. Livingston yelled for someone to call 9-1-1. The events to take place were cemented in his brain, but it felt too real. He fought Livingston, but he tried to hold him closer at the same time.

  “Fuck, baby, breath, you’re fine. It’s all—”

  Livingston voiced faded in and out, too much chaos and yelling.

  “Fielding, my name is Gibson, you have to calm down. You’re sending yourself into a panic attack. Take a deep breath, exhale, repeat for me. I know it’s chaotic. I know it’s overwhelming, but everything is fine. You’re better off than Liv, man, Pure hit him twice.”

  He opened his eyes to find a man who would make Gods jealous, perfection from his almost translucent blue eyes, squared, stubble-covered jaw to a fitness model body. Holy shit, he knew actors and models who would kill Gibson just out of jealousy.

  “Motherfucker, I’m going to take him out,” Livingston growled.

  “Who me because your man is staring at me because I’m so pretty or Pure for shooting you?” Gibson asked.

  He felt the need to laugh but thought it would be inappropriate.

  “Both, but you can’t help being too fucking pretty. Pure did that shit on purpose.”

  He needed to calm the situation down. A pissed off Livingston meant the man would start throwing punches. He had a feeling that would ruin the plan. “How did I do, Daddy?”

  “Oh, boy, you earned your reward.”

  “Um, maybe you two could plan to fuck when you don’t have an audience?” Gibson spoke quietly then raised his voice. “We need to transfer the patient now.”

  Gibson should be an actor, the urgency in the man’s voice completely believable.

  “I’ve lost the pulse!”

  He held still, turned his breathing shallow and forced himself to lay still as he was roughly transferred onto a stretcher.

  “Clear the street, but no one leaves without answering questions.” Livingston’s angry voice almost caused him to flinch as the ambulance doors slammed.

  He knew he was alone except for Gibson and the driver, Pure and Little would meet him at the hospital and sneak him out.

  “You doing okay now, Fielding?”

  He opened his eyes to stare up at the gorgeous smiling man.

  “You should be an actor.”

  “No, I’m good, being fire chief is exciting enough for me. Been awhile since I’ve worn a paramedic uniform though.”

  “Was Livingston okay?”

  “That beast is perfectly fine. I don’t see Pure living much longer though. Rubber bullets or not, that shit had to hurt. Just lie back and relax, once we rush you into the ER you can get up. We already informed the ER staff that it’s a police operation.”

  It was over, at least for the moment, and as much as he wanted his time there to last, he didn’t want to have to look over his shoulder. He wanted to be safe. Livingston would make sure he made it out. He closed his eyes and let the anxiety fade away. He’d think about all the pros and cons later, all they could do was wait.

  Fourteen

  On the Run

  He glared at the pouting Pure with his black eye and busted lip. His ribs and chest were sore from where the non-lethal rounds connected with his unprotected skin. Bastard did that shit on purpose, and the man deserved the punishment he received. Raul had tried to take his head off after he’d knocked Pure on his over-sized ass. Camden dragged Raul off, and he didn’t give a shit where they were. They’d made it to the safe house they’d arranged.

  “You could’ve hit Fielding.”

  “Man, I hit what I aim for. Big strong man getting all pissy about a few bruises.”

  “Only takes one.”

  Pure scoffed as he grabbed his soda and left the kitchen.

  He didn’t like being away from his boy, but Linus and Little had Fielding in a second location. No one had made it onto their list of suspects, and Gage was at the hospital handling the public relations nightmare. The other man was also going to stake out the morgue to see if Fielding’s stalker tried to get to Fielding’s supposed body. They could only hope that the fucker got sloppy and revealed himself, or at the very least, left some clues behind.

  “You’re jumpy, Liv.” Peaches concerned voice came from the doorway behind him.

  “I should be with Fielding.”

  “You know that’s a bad idea. The suspect might follow you, and that would lead him right to where Fielding is being held. Convincing job today though.”

  “But was it convincing enough. It went down perfectly but, dammit, Peaches, all he had to notice is one mistake.”

  “Are you letting him go, Liv?”

  He almost started to pretend he didn’t know what she was asking, but he’d known Peaches too long to play her for a fool. She’d take his ass out even when he outweighed her by over a hundred pounds and a foot taller.

  “It’s a job, Peaches.”

  “It’s not just a fucking job, honey. I’ve known you almost a decade, and I love you, that’s why I’m saying this. If you don’t keep that boy, it’ll be your biggest fuck up yet.”

  “I can’t keep him. What the fuck do I have to offer? Some off-the-grid cabin. This fucked up body and face to wake up to every morning.”

  “You’re more than some scars and paranoia. I’ve told you when the right one comes along, they won’t judge you for the things you can’t change. You survived a horrific incident.”

  He didn’t talk a
bout his mother or his life before the foster homes. No one knew the story in its entirety, and he wanted to keep it that way. He’d learned that Peaches knew every last detail, from where his mother started out to how many surgeries he’d had. He was broken, but unlike his friends and co-workers, all his damage was on the surface for everyone to see. Scars and dead eyes that told a story that still terrified him. The heat of the flames, his clothes and skin burning away quickly but in agonizing slowness. He still remembered the stench of his burned flesh, the sickening sweetness of it.

  The nightmares had subsided while Fielding was with him. Yet, he knew they’d come back, and he didn’t want Fielding around to see his weakness. The screaming and tears, waking up begging for his mother to save him. Her only answer her laughter still echoing in his head. Her smile was burned into him as deeply as his scars.

  “I just can’t do it. Fielding has a life and career in California. What the fuck do I have to seriously offer him?”

  “Your love, Liv. I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He’s been asking for you since they snuck him out of the hospital.”

  “It’s his first taste of freedom.”

  He hated the lie. He’d seen the truth in Fielding’s eyes when he’d looked at him after taking his virginity. It was more than his first freedom. It was the way only someone innocent and untouched by the ugly bits of life could love. He couldn’t destroy that innocence completely. He already despised his existence, and he wouldn’t survive if he pulled Fielding into his hell.

  “But you fucked him anyway.”

  “I told him fucking was all that I could offer.”

  “When you take someone’s first time that isn’t a responsibility you take lightly and the fact you took his virginity knowing you were going to send him home makes you more of a bastard than I thought you were. You have experience and age on your side. You should’ve left him with that gift to give to someone who’s going to be around longer than the time it takes the afterglow to wear off.”

  He pushed his hands through his hair and pulled until his scalp stung. He didn’t regret what he did with Fielding. His boy had cried in his arms. He’d kissed the tears from his cheeks that had been red with embarrassment. The submission and the ecstasy, the perfection of his boy’s first time—he’d dissolved his boy to unrestrained bliss. It was a gift he’d cherish, and he didn’t care if people considered him a bastard. It was an experience beyond compare of what he had in his past or would have in his future.

  “I don’t need you to bitch me out.”

  “You might not consider me your mother, I love you like I do everyone else, and that makes you my son. I love you without judgment or condition. The decision you made doesn’t sit right with me, but you’re an adult.”

  He didn’t want a mother-figure. He wasn’t a stranger to envy. Peaches and Lily embraced all their children, blood and adopted, equally. It was the gentleness of a mother’s hand. The purity of a mother’s I love yous. All that shit was a foreign a concept, to him, a mother’s love was pain, humiliation, and exclusion. Nothing was unconditional in life, he held onto that like a life raft in a hurricane. Because if he started to believe, then he’d crave those things he knew he couldn’t have. He didn’t want anyone’s love.

  A mother is supposed to have this connection with their children, but what if something inside him was so beyond repair—evil—that he’d never be truly loved. He’d rather avoid the trap and deny that he couldn’t let himself get used to the pretty lies.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Because you’re deserving. I took one look at you, and you were mine, just like the first time I held Landon in my arms. Looked into his beautiful tiny face and it was like being complete. I didn’t give birth to you, but you were always mine even if it took me twenty-eight years to find you.”

  He flinched as she extended her arms toward him and he felt like a bastard when tears swam in her eyes. She didn’t let him get away with it, she stepped up to him and wrapped him in her slender tattooed arms. He couldn’t relax, he braced himself for the first blow or cutting word, but all she did was hold him tighter. Rubbed his back in soothing circles and tears burned his eyes. His arms held stiffly at his sides started to move on their own accord, and he held her awkwardly. Peaches raised one hand to rest on his unmarred cheek as soft lips stroked the twisted skin on the other.

  “If I could, I’d kiss away every last one, but they make you who you are, Liv. They show the world you were stronger than someone’s hate.”

  “I want to keep him.” He admitted the truth to her in a low, barely heard whisper. Afraid that if he said it, the universe would punish him for reaching beyond that which he was entitled.

  “Then keep him, honey, hold on tight and love that little man until he can’t see anyone else.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’ll get there, but don’t ruin your chance for the greatest thing as humans we can attain—love.”

  He’d reached his limit, and he pulled back, angrily swiped the tears from his face. He hadn’t cried since the night his mother tried to kill him.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s good, except he said his Daddy needed to bring him ice cream.”

  He rolled his lips between his teeth, but couldn’t suppress his smile.

  “He wants his reward for being good.”

  “But he wouldn’t let anyone else get him ice cream. Are we already setting rules?”

  “Yes, he has rules.”

  “You men and your Daddy complexes. Not that I’m bashing you for it, Gib has heard me yell Daddy plenty of times.”

  And there was the evil Peaches back in full force. “And I could’ve done without that visual.”

  “You, like the rest of my sons, are prudes. Sex is the most natural thing in the world.”

  “What if people don’t like sex.”

  “Then those people can be happy and healthy with their cuddling and affection or none at all. Shame has nothing to do with sexuality or lack thereof as long as everyone is consenting adults. Giving or taking dick or not taking doesn’t define us as humans. Simple affection can be as intimate as a full-on fuck-fest. People are too caught up in expectation.”

  “Why did you only have one kid?”

  “I do, just because I didn’t give birth to more than one doesn’t mean I’m not a parent to many. Gib learned long ago I was going to take in as many as I could. But to answer why I only gave birth to one, I lost several after I had Landon, and the doctors said it was dangerous for me to try for more.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. Gib and I always dreamed of having a houseful. Even on our first date, we talked about how many kids we’d have. He told me he didn’t care as long as they all were as beautiful as I was. What do you know? We have the most gorgeous kids anyone could hope for.”

  “You’re crazy you know that, Peaches?”

  “Honey, the woman you see before you was once a conservative college girl and one day I walked into a tattoo shop to find my future. I might have lost my biological family but what I gained far exceeded the so-called loss.”

  Even as jaded as he was, Peaches made him hope with a few honest words and no-strings advice. Hope was a drug that many couldn’t afford. He’d ignored that promise of something sweeter and gentler, that love most craved. Yes, he wished for it, but was it destined for him? He’d spent too many years keeping everyone at a distance, envying people for what they had. For a brief span of time, he wanted to enjoy Fielding, but having him forever wasn’t something he could guarantee himself or Fielding.

  He was standing still, but mentally he was on the run.

  Fifteen

  They’d Pay for This

  Morgue. The sounds of the shots still rang in their ears. Those people were supposed to take care of Fielding. What kind of protection did those Neanderthals offer if they allowed one of their clients to die on a public street
? They could see the spread of blood across Fielding’s chest. Rage traveled along their limbs as they tightened their hand around the syringe in the pocket of their stolen lab coat.

  They’d stood in the windows of Decadence. Bile burned at the back of their throat when that disgusting creature lifted Fielding’s hand to his mouth. That beast soiled their man. Through the cabin window a few nights before they’d watched Livingston take what was theirs. The scarred bastard using and abusing Fielding had caused the beautiful man to cry. He’d pay for that.

  At the hospital, they peeked into rooms. Dropped their head as people passed them in the corridors. The stench of antiseptic and death caused them to snarl their nose. They were about to turn the corner when two of their targets came into view through slightly parted blinds, and they stared into a room filled with gurneys and supplies. They took a few steps and pushed the door enough so they could listen to the conversation.

  Hayden Gage. The older silver-haired man leaned back against the wall and the scarred bastard mirrored on the opposite side. The two men spoke quietly. A light flickered on and off, and they listened to the low hum of the fluorescent lights.

  “It’s been two fucking days, how much longer?”

  “Liv, you’re getting impatient. We’ve been on longer stakeouts than this.”

  “My boy needs me.”

  “Your boy will be fine.” Gage wore a smile which bordered on indulgent.

  “I made him promises.”

  “Ones you’re keeping. Want your boy back in your bed?”

  Fielding was alive? They’d fallen for a trap—almost. They started to back up.

  “Don’t you fucking start too. I got chewed out by Peaches. Even Linus tried to pull the fucking boss card with me earlier.”

  “Man, I’m not the one to give you relationship advice. Just be smart and when it’s time, let the boy go.”

  “That was my plan. I had no intention of keeping him.”

  They clenched their fists in the pocket of the coat. Fielding wasn’t a whore. The ugly bastard took what was theirs, and he would pay. They’d watched that abhorrent brute force himself upon the innocent Fielding and for that Francis needed to suffer.