Not Another Statistic (A Yuri Sorenson Mystery Book 1)

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Not Another Statistic (A Yuri Sorenson Mystery Book 1) Page 5

by J. M. Dabney


  "Who says you can't have that now? I can make you disappear."

  "But what about the man after me. The next one who might not make it out."

  "It's gonna sound selfish, but you can't worry about them. This is your life, and that is theirs."

  "No, if he goes away, he can't hurt anyone else. My life won't be a waste."

  "Then I'll support you however, but I do have one piece of advice for you."

  "Yeah?"

  "Go talk to Sorenson. He's not exactly happy right now. Apparently, you went AWOL."

  "Shit."

  She bumped me with her shoulder.

  "You're going to be okay, and you know you can always call when you're out in the cold. I'll have you on a plane or south of the border before anyone even knows you're missing."

  "Thanks, Arianna. I'm sorry I brought him here, but…I didn't have anywhere else, and he couldn't die because of me."

  "Just don't do it again. He's not bad. Maybe a bit too cranky for my tastes. A bit too…Dominant. But that might just be your type."

  "I'm never looking him in the eyes again."

  "Maybe he likes to bend his boys over instead—"

  "I'm going inside." I rushed through the open window with her laughter following me. Dinner was over and the kitchen probably scoured, but there were always leftovers for late arrivals or people who worked nights to help with paying for their oasis.

  Rumors were Arianna had plenty of money to fund this place for several lifetimes, but everyone liked to help out, chores, food, or finding meds to help with the clinic she ran. They always had a doctor or two that volunteered for exams and tests. Sometimes emergency rooms weren't an option. I entered the kitchen and went for one of the two fridges.

  "Figured you had to show up for food sooner or later."

  I spun to find Yuri in the shadows sipping at a beer, and I couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking.

  "Sorry, I needed some time to myself."

  "Make yourself dinner, and once you do that, we need to have a long talk.”

  My hands shook as I did what he ordered and made a plate from whatever leftovers, then heated it in the microwave. I went to grab a beer because I felt I’d need it.

  “You’ll have milk or juice.”

  I started to argue until I saw his brow raise and I snatched a bottle of juice from the fridge, and then collected my plate. I sat at the table, and I watched him approach. He was favoring his shoulder.

  “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Better. Over the counter pain pills are dulling it, but I think I’ll survive. A couple more scars aren’t going to bother me. Don’t pick at your food…eat.”

  I took small, even bites, between tiny sips of juice. A sob caught in my throat as I realized I was waiting for him to tell me I was done like Vernon had. He’d only allowed me enough to keep me alive but starved enough to be too weak to fight—to protest my treatment.

  “Use your words, boy.”

  “I was…I was waiting on you to tell me I’d eaten enough.”

  “I’m not him, and you’re about twenty pounds underweight for your height. You need food to gain it back. Doc is going to give you a physical tomorrow.”

  “I already went to the doctor. They said I was healthy, and all my tests were negative.”

  “But I wasn’t there, and you need to make sure you’re gaining enough weight and getting the proper nutrition.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now, for what we have to decide on. We have to move out. I need to make contact with West and find out who the hell sent a Merc hit team to our room. It’s not impossible that someone followed us, but I was always careful. Also, I wouldn’t put it past West to sell me out. It wouldn’t be the first time he let sensitive information slip. We’re going to get lost for a bit. As soon as I find out where my vehicle with all my stuff in it is.”

  “It’s only been a few days. It might still be parked where they left it.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “Was that all you wanted to talk about?”

  “For now. We’re going to have another talk when we’re somewhere we won’t be interrupted.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t know me, Josh, but I’m a man who doesn’t take kindly to a boy hiding from me. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now finish your dinner and then we have to talk to Arianna about a ride out of here.”

  All I could do was nod, and I felt his gaze on me, watching every bite I took, and I occasionally glanced at him to find his complete focus on me. His big hand was wrapped around the beer bottle, and he was picking at the label with his thumbnail. I sensed as if he wanted to say something, but he was holding back. I didn’t see him as a man who stayed silent if he had concerns on his mind, but I was too scared and nervous to ask.

  We hadn’t started off on the right foot. We finally seemed to have a truce going. But there was still another talk coming, and that’s what scared me the most. Would he punish me for touching him like that? He was warm and solid—gruff, but I was sure he’d never put his hands on me in anger. Although, I’d thought the same at first with Vernon. He’d done everything right those first few months until he had me trapped and then I had nowhere to go.

  I didn’t want to believe Yuri was the same, but I didn’t have much faith in the goodness of men because I knew their depraved natures more thoroughly. If he did want to hurt me, all I could hope was he’d make my death quick and not draw it out.

  Nine

  Yuri

  The tight t-shirt pulled at my bandage, and I was ready to be out of borrowed clothes. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to visit every impound lot tomorrow when we made our way back to the city. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t replace, but right now there wasn’t time for that. I leaned on the corner of the house and focused on Josh. Seeing him there had changed my perspective of him. The shy smile when someone teased him. A weight had lifted off of him since we'd arrived, and I debated whether to leave him there or not.

  He'd be safer, but my brain protested that I needed him close. If he was out of my sight, I wouldn't be able to contact him since no one was allowed cellphones, and calls were timed to make sure they weren't traced. Arianna was strict about the secrecy of the safehouse's location. She'd only given me a number and a list to show which locations for pickup. Not having constant contact with him wasn't a choice for me.

  While I trusted they could keep him safe, my possessiveness suddenly latched onto an inappropriate boy for the Daddy Dom in me, and I couldn't justify anyone else watching him.

  I grinned as a man not bigger than Josh, picked him up from behind and spun him around. His laugh and smile were so free and happy. But I knew the minute he spotted me all that shine would dull, and he'd be back to collapsing into himself.

  Too many enemies waited for us. Unknown dangers that we could pass on the street without knowing they were waiting to stab us in the back. I'd rather be between him and them when it happened. I had no doubt that it would. Too many powerful players were on the field, and I needed to narrow them down. That meant leaving the bubble here and hitting the streets to draw them out.

  "I arranged a ride for you." Arianna came out of nowhere.

  I'd learned that she preferred to keep people on their toes—not allow them to get too comfortable.

  "You love sneaking up on people."

  "Reactions are raw and without artifice. One of my people said your SUV is still safely parked in the same place, but he moved it to a second location. You have quite a few tickets to pay."

  I glanced at her to find the corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement. "Of course I do."

  "You sure you don't want to leave him with me?"

  "I should, but"—the sigh that slipped from between my lips sounded weary—"I can't."

  "I understand, but one phone call and we'll pick him up."

  "Appreciate it."

&nbs
p; "Nothing I haven't done for him before. Just make sure that he doesn't turn into a piece of ass."

  I snorted. "Like I told him, I'm not his ex. But when the time comes, we'll talk about that privately."

  "Fair enough. I have a friend. Runs a flophouse. Building is barely up to health code, but he's got rooms down for repairs. Which is code for a safehouse. He said one of them is mine if I need it for one of my kids. Just tell him Arianna made the reservation. The owner knows too many secrets for the cops to come nosing around. The police chief likes to bring his side chick around a few times a week."

  "You might come in handy."

  "You're not my type."

  "The feeling is mutual."

  Even in the midst of a dangerous situation, I felt more myself than I had since I retired or quit, whatever people wanted to call it. Growing up, I'd lived in low-rent housing, Mom barely making ends meet with her assistance, and Dad turned out to be useless. This wasn't the place I grew up, but cities like these were identical. Same dealers and crime bosses, uptown or downtown, people were all the same. Nothing separated people more than how many zeroes were in their bank accounts. Entitlement oozed from the pores of the rich, leaving a foul stench in the air.

  Perception colored how we viewed ourselves and others. Dirty or shabby clothes made us slump into ourselves as if the world was there to push us under their heels. And if you were seen as upper-middle-class or upper-class than there was no glass ceiling keeping you down. No limit to your dreams. I was stuck somewhere in between expectation and reality with nowhere to go but sideways.

  "You'll be good for him."

  "What?" I asked. I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I'd forgotten she was there.

  "For Josh. He accepted whatever he could get. Never thought he deserved more."

  "We have some behavioral correction to work on, but we'll get to it…after I make sure he's safe."

  "Man, you're not keeping it in your pants until he's safe. Alone in a motel room with condoms and lube, you'll be lucky to leave to find the people after him."

  "I'm so overwhelmed by your faith in my abilities."

  "I trust you to keep him safe, and that's high praise coming from me. Doc wants to check your shoulder over one more time before you leave to make sure it's still looking good. He may have mentioned you're one tough bastard. Anyone else would be dead."

  "I'll take him up on the check, and he's gotta look at Josh, too. I want to make sure he's still on track to getting healthy."

  "He's put on a bit of weight since I saw him last. He's starting to look like the teenager I used to know. I have to get some work done. We have a supply run coming up."

  I nodded and then brought my attention back to him. I had to agree he was beautiful in that delicate way that elegant men had. Men I'd secretly wanted, but I was always too rough around the edges to keep them. Last time I'd given into my urges, it was an unsatisfying fuck of two dominants fighting for control. Yes, I got off, but it wasn't what I'd call a repeat-worthy performance. I craved trust and submission, someone who knew I was in charge and put the decisions in my hands. Being in my forties, I may as well be elderly. I didn't mind being someone's Daddy, but I wanted that one boy I'd been waiting on for too long.

  To be honest, I didn't know if that was Josh. Only time would tell, and the shift in our dynamic would help us both open up to sharing—to mutual respect. We'd have to work on his skittishness, and only a gentle hand would work, maybe some praise. I remembered his blush when I'd told him I was proud of him. My gut said it was the first time he'd ever heard that from someone, especially a man.

  First step, I would have to repair his confidence and self-worth. Gently instruct him on recognizing the good things about himself. Despite what she thought, while sex was definitely on my mind, it wasn't the most important thing. Intimacy was key. Getting him used to touch that wouldn't end in pain. I wouldn't say he wouldn't earn punishments, but that was only after I figured out the right rules for us.

  That would happen soon enough. We needed to make plans to move out in the morning, and before we could do that, my boy needed a checkup.

  "Josh," I called out, and I hated when he froze with his smile slowly slipping from his lips. "Doc wants to see us."

  I patiently waited as he said goodbye to his friends, and then I strode to the front porch. I motioned for him to precede me, and while he still wasn't confident with someone at his back, he obeyed. Ascending the front steps, I caught up with his slower pace and placed my hand on the small of his back.

  "Do I have to?"

  "Yes, this will be the last time I can get you checked over. He wants to examine my shoulder, too."

  "Okay, but I hate doctors."

  Which meant he probably didn't have a regular one and that wouldn't do. If he was going to be mine, I'd need to take care of that. I suppressed a smile as my brain tried to formulate a plan of finding him doctors and a job, but I'd need office help so I already mentally marked something off the list.

  I led him through the house to the downstairs den turned makeshift clinic and knocked on the open door.

  "You two finally showed up. Figured I'd have to lock you down in the morning before you left."

  The kid looked too young to be a doctor, but from what Doc said, he'd finished with his residency and had taken a job in a free clinic a year before.

  I was so fucking old.

  "Who's first?"

  "Check Josh first. My shoulder can wait."

  My boy tried to protest, and I shut it down with a single look. His bratty eye roll made me want to grab his chin and warn him what that behavior would get him with me, but I reminded myself tomorrow would be soon enough.

  I leaned back on the wall beside the door and watched as Doc ordered my boy to remove his shirt. His ribs and breastbone were no longer prominent. The scars from his wounds were still raised, reddened marks on otherwise creamy skin. I observed everything from the weighing to the checking of vitals. My possessiveness was becoming worse as another man touched my boy—they were closer in age and similar in builds.

  "Sorenson, it's your turn. Remove your shirt."

  I'd gotten the damn thing on fine that morning, but I wasn't so sure about taking it off.

  "I'll help." Josh's words muffled as he put his shirt back on and walked over to me.

  I seated myself on a nearby chair to make it easier for him. It was the bastard in me, but the way his hands shook reminded me of our shared shower and his touch. His timidity turned me on.

  He eased the fabric over my head and off my injured arm. I grimaced at the sudden pain but ignored it in favor of keeping him calm.

  "Now, let's see the damage."

  I kept my gaze on Josh as Doc examined me, no matter how much I said I'd wait, I had to admit that our hostess might be right—he'd be too much temptation to resist.

  Ten

  Josh

  I was exhausted, and the sun hadn't set yet. It was nonstop since Yuri had yelled for me to get out of bed, waking up the other people on the cots around me in the communal room. Everyone had booed and hissed as they threw pillows and anything else in his direction. And I was still reliving his laugh in my head. It was the first time I'd heard any sound other than growls and the occasional grunt that he used when he was unhappy.

  The day was filled with renting a storage unit for his SUV under a fake identification. He'd packed a duffle with everything he'd need, including his weapon, and shoved my own borrowed backpack inside. Arianna had packed it for me with some clothes and personal care items. She said there was a surprise for me too. I was kind of scared. Her smile was more of a smirk than I'd ever seen it.

  He said we'd utilize taxis and public transport until he could arrange for another vehicle. I was standing in the lobby of a motel that hadn't seen a renovation since the forties. I was familiar with places like this. They only rented by the hour and were perfect for our needs because no one asked questions as long as the cash didn't run out. He was talking t
o the night clerk, and I turned away as the other man glanced at me.

  Yuri told me to put my hood up, so I was sure my face was too shadowed for the clerk to see details. We'd been checking the news regularly, and other than a short segment on a suspicious shooting at the hotel, neither of our faces were shown.

  I jerked as Yuri bent down to grab the bag and slung it over his uninjured shoulder.

  "I have the key, come on. We're on the fourth floor."

  He put himself between me and the desk as we made our way across the lobby to the stairs. The old elevator had an Out of Order sign taped beside the open doors. I didn't get as winded as we took the stairs. I felt stronger and lighter, but still had the edge of fear that never went away.

  That part of me which had always been ready to die was rearing its ugly head. I was too much trouble. The effort he was putting in to keeping me alive was a waste of his time. I swear I tried to banish the thoughts with maybe dreams of something happier, but it just wasn't working.

  He told me to stop when we reached the door of our room, and I waited while he opened it. He pushed the door open, and when I entered, I was shocked. The room was pristine, yet still had the same crimson printed walls with red carpet. Yet, it looked and smelled clean.

  "At least we won't need a round of antibiotics when we leave."

  I hid my smile as the door clicked shut, and he passed me to place our bag on a luggage rack. I wrung my hands as he slowly took off his hoodie, and I chased the play of shifting muscle beneath his tight t-shirt. My fascination with him needed to end before I got hurt. I knew he wasn't like Vernon or the others. Yet he knew my past and what I'd allowed to happen to me. How could a man treat me differently when he knew how the others had used me?

  My body craved something I hadn't had in my life—yearned for a possession that had nothing to do with pain. But I also wanted to be owned and taken care of; have the harder decisions made for me. That just showed me I had to hide that I was losing a piece of myself to him. As gruff and hard as he appeared, he took care of me, and I felt that was skewing my perception—seeing more than I should.

 

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