by J. M. Dabney
"How did you meet him?"
"A group of us were out at a club. I'd just gotten my first paycheck from my new job. My first job. He bought me a few drinks, and he seemed nice…attentive. I"—I cleared my throat—"I went home with him like I'd done with other men. It wasn't a big deal. I thought he was different as soon as he got me into his apartment, he wasn’t just like all the others. The sex wasn’t spectacular, it hurt, but it wasn’t like the guys before. For a few months, I ignored the rough sex and was happy to feel safe, and he told me he loved me so easily."
I slammed my eyelids shut to block out his image on the screen, but it only intensified the hazy movie playing in my head. The visions were so strong that I expected to endure the pain again. All the humiliating details, some shameful enough I'd omitted them in court.
"Then one night we went out, and he wanted me to dance with someone else. I didn’t see anything wrong with it, but later, he was mad that I seemed to enjoy it too much. He didn’t even bother to use lube that night. The more I screamed for him to stop, the louder he laughed."
"He's a sexual sadist. It's about power and violence. He gets off on your pain."
"But what made me such an easy target? Do men just know I won't fight them?"
"Baby boy, if it wasn't you, it would've been another person he picked up in that bar."
"Intellectually I know that, but from past experience, I can't help thinking abusers see me as easy prey."
"As much as I want to make you feel better, no matter what pretty words I use, you still have to figure that out for yourself."
"Your Daddy voice is sucking today."
He laughed behind me and urged me off his lap as I hit print on a few more articles.
"I'm going to go pay for the copies, and we'll make contact with West and then kill some time until we go to the meet with Moffett."
I nodded as I sat back down on the hard-plastic chair and started signing out of the system. He'd told me that as soon as a session ended normally libraries purged search histories. I resisted the urge to check my social media accounts and my personal email. I closed everything and stood, slinging the strap of my messenger bag over my shoulder.
A smile curved my lips as I watched him talking to the lady behind the counter. I could see the interest in her eyes, but he didn't feed into it. Not even a casual flirting. I stayed back instead of approaching only because my face had made it onto the news more times than I liked. While my hair was longer and my face had filled out a little, I didn't see much difference in my appearance. Yuri was the type of guy that blended in and seemed comfortable in his skin—his place in the world. I was jealous of that.
When this was all over, I needed to think about how I wanted my life to go. New goals. I wanted to dig up those dreams I'd buried when I didn't think I was worthy of having them. He'd told me I needed to make my own decisions and find myself, but was it bad that I yearned to be better for him? It wasn't about the sex because other than kisses and that one-sided hand job neither of us had crossed any lines.
Every word he said to me was gentle and spoke of him caring about me. My life was off-kilter, but I wanted him. His Daddy voice. His lessons and correction, to have him claim me as his. I wanted to be better for myself, but why couldn't he be my reward? I shook my head and flipped my hood up as he turned to head back to me. Was my need gratitude or something more?
"Is this everything?" Yuri asked as he lifted me onto a crate in a corner of a rundown warehouse space.
This was a little too mafia/spy movie for my liking, but Yuri seemed relaxed as he spoke to Moffett. My man turned and leaned back against the large shipping container and started flipping through the folder Moffett gave him.
"My guy said Vernon has taken a different man home every night. The investigator said he couldn't get anything out of them, but it appeared after he checked them out that they're into the rougher trade. Seems he's paying for what he can't get for free anymore."
I didn't look at what was in the file but tipped sideways to lay my cheek on Yuri's shoulder. He turned and kissed my forehead, then went back to turning the pages. There were more files and recordings to go through when we got back to the room. The amount of information we'd gotten from Moffett was overwhelming, or at least I thought it was. Yuri had taken it in stride and shoved everything into his backpack. We'd picked up Yuri's laptop to go through the flash drives.
"That won't satisfy him for long. Too much consent for him," Yuri stated without looking up.
"That's my thoughts. His old man is making regular visits to his penthouse, though. I threw some cash around. Vernon's drinking and drug use is at an all-time high."
When Vernon was high, his temper turned more violent, and I felt guilty he was taking the rage out on someone else. I didn't care if he was paying someone else to take it. Maybe they were like me, had no choice but to do what they needed to make a living. To have somewhere to sleep or a meal.
"Spiral?" Yuri asked.
"If I believe my gut, he's about to fuck up. Whether that's good or bad, I don't know. I doubt another victim will come forward."
That was my fear. That he'd never pay for what he did to me and the others we didn't know about. We'd discussed my survivor's guilt, and I agreed I needed to be able to get past it. That was easier said than done. Leaving another person to end up like me in Vernon's aftermath was unacceptable. Something needed to happen. He needed to be stopped.
"What about the case?" Yuri asked.
"As you already know, ten days until the judge issues a mistrial, unless they receive new evidence or Clarkson reappears, he's going to get off."
The deadline felt like a noose. And what could we do with so little time? I didn't want him to get away, but what power did I have?
"Could we set a trap? With his spiral and his need for violence, he won't be able to control himself."
"Something to think about, but you and your boyfriend are going to need to act fast."
I hid my grin against his shoulder as he didn’t flinch when Moffett called me his boyfriend.
"Well, we have to come up with some sort of plan and soon. I can take all this?" he asked.
"Definitely. We'll meet up again in a few days and maybe come up with that plan. Back in my day, they would've just disappeared."
"Simpler times."
I covered my loud snort with a cough as I watched the two older men share a moment of camaraderie over simpler and more homicidal times.
"Back in y'alls days was the wheel invented yet?" I batted my lashes at them and earned two deep growls, but I loved Yuri's more. It made my stomach dance with nerves. I wanted to go back to our room.
"Man, you have to keep your boy in line. Petulant brat."
"One of his finer qualities."
"Another way of saying, you like giving him spankings."
"Okay, I'm hungry. I want food." I changed the subject and slid off the crate.
I shoved my hands in my pockets as Yuri put the new files in my messenger bag and handed it to me. The two men spoke a few minutes longer, and Moffett left.
"What do you want for dinner?"
"Anything?"
"Sure."
"I want sushi," I answered as he held out his hand and led me outside to the deserted street.
"I wished I could promise this would be over soon, but I can't."
"Yuri, I know that. I just want to get on with my life. This city is my home, and I don't want to have to leave because of him."
"But you'll do what's needed."
"I've been trying to escape for as long as I can remember. I'm finally feeling good about myself and my place."
That earned me another forehead kiss, and for some reason, I was addicted to those. In all my years, I'd never spent as much time with someone, and there wasn't intercourse or humiliation involved. Except for the whole on the run for our lives’ thing, I wanted Yuri to keep me. I was trying to remember that he was just protecting me and showing me the treatment that I de
served.
I wanted sushi and chocolate, and copious amounts of alcohol and maybe lots and lots of anonymous sex. Okay, I wanted everything but that last one. Now if Yuri was offering the sex, I mentally groaned and focused on the stuff I could have, and it wasn't the sexy private investigator of my dreams.
Nineteen
Yuri
Once I finished tacking up the photos and notes on the wall, I stood back and folded my arms over my chest. Cross had to have fucked-up somewhere. I just wasn't finding it. Moffett was right—I should just take the kill shot and move on. I grinned to myself at the thought of putting one between Cross' eyes. That would settle the issue. Nothing could be done about the senior Cross but not every plan was foolproof.
The bathroom door opened, letting out steam and the scent of body wash. I turned my head to see Josh coming out with a towel around his hips and a smile curving his perfect lips. He drew near, and I uncrossed my arms and tugged him to my side. He hugged my waist. His skin was still damp where it met mine. I shouldn't have touched him that morning, but I wouldn't regret it.
If we'd met under different circumstances, he'd already be in my bed. We'd get there eventually. I wasn't letting my boy go. First though, we had some things to take care of and then he had to make decisions on his own.
"Love what you've done with the place."
"Well, it's either find a way to take them down without putting me behind bars for murder or you know, being responsible and finding a legal way to resolve the issue."
"Adulting totally sucks, but at your age, you should be used to it by now."
And there was my bratty boy. Some might see that as a turn-off but not me, especially when it came to him. Bratty meant he felt safe with me and that I'd succeeded with my plans. I should feel a lot more accomplished.
"I liked you better when you didn't talk."
He scoffed at me and smacked my stomach. "All your fault."
"Not my smartest move. But I'd prefer to be free."
"Kinda like you to stay free. Can't ogle you in jail."
"Nice to see you have priorities."
I gave him a tight squeeze and then pushed him to go get dressed.
"So, what are you looking at?"
He was moving around behind me, but even out of sight, I knew exactly what he was doing. In so short a time I'd learned to anticipate him and his needs. It had become second nature to do so.
"This is us trying to figure out how to get out of this situation without dying."
"Kinda figured that. What happens if I walk into court at the deadline and tell them what happened?"
"I'm more the proactive sort and not the sit around to wait kind."
"Then this must be driving you insane."
"It is, but in the end, I'd prefer you alive than with a bullet between your eyes."
"I'm all on board for that one."
"Cross is a spoiled rich boy, used to getting his way in everything, and his old man has enough money to throw it around. What I don't get is how this got to court." My eyes jumped from one item to another, trying to find some loophole, maybe something everyone was missing by looking at only the obvious things. Usually, the answer was in the minute details.
"The cops showed up for a domestic dispute by a neighbor having a smoke on the balcony below. They did their job when they showed, even if they seemed disgusted by the fact it was two men. District Attorney has delusions of grandeur and figured a high-profile win fast tracks him to the next level."
"So you didn't call the cops?"
"No, as you know, assault charges needed to be substantiated by the victim, but the loophole is if the incident is witnessed by responding officers. They heard Vernon's screams and busted down the door. Ambulance was called, and by the time I woke up, charges were filed, and the Feds were in my room."
"If you'd been awake, would you have gone along with it?" I already knew the answer to that before the question hung between us. He didn't know any different. His psychological evaluation hadn't given much hope that he'd live a normal life or experience healthy relationships. Before a certain age, children's brains were formed, and touch was a huge part of instilling a sense of safety.
He tended to self-soothe, hugging himself and rocking. I'd seen a documentary one night years ago while on a case, it was about orphans that were denied emotional and physical affection. They'd become emotionally and mentally stunted. A lot of them lacked empathy or the ability to distinguish right from wrong, but those were more severe cases. Some of them just simply failed to thrive—died from a lack of care. Starved for touch.
"Honestly, I think you already know what I would've done."
"But I want to hear you say it."
"I would've healed and let him continue to do it. When I was with him, death was my best-case scenario. I'm not saying I didn't see that everything about him and the relationship was wrong. I just didn't know any different. Did your mom think death was the only option?"
"I think so, but she was a product of an abusive cycle. Generations of women conditioned to be owned and abused. Mom dropped out of high school her junior year after my father knocked her up. He was a senior who just wanted a piece of ass, and Mom was conditioned to just go along with it."
"Is that why you're sympathetic to me because of her?"
I didn't want to be anything but honest with him. I turned away from my makeshift case board and found him sitting cross-legged on the side of the bed. I approached and crouched down in front of him. Folding my arms on his thighs.
"No, because of her, I wanted to do my job and move on."
"Then are you sorry you helped me?"
The misery in his voice broke me, and I hated that I hurt him, but it was safer for both of us if I didn't keep any secrets from him.
"Baby, I'm not sorry I helped. You've had enough people, especially men, lying to you over the years, and I won't be another one. It would've been safer if you ran. Let Arianna get you out of the country."
"I'm tired of looking over my shoulder. I want a life."
"I know you do, but we have to decide what's best and if that's letting Arianna make you disappear then that's what we'll do."
"I'm tired of people making decisions for me."
While I understood his point—his need for control—I couldn't let him die, not even to keep him around a little longer.
"Sometimes, we have to do what's right and smart. If we don't have this figured out, I'm calling in Arianna to get you out."
"You're not going to let me win, are you?"
He smiled as he laced our fingers, his skin soft and warm.
"No, I'm not. A new life won't hurt you. A place far away for you to build something better…with new choices."
"Yuri, I get what you're saying, but this city is all I know."
"We have ten days until the next court date. If we don't come up with more options by then, you'll call and have her people pick you up. Promise me you won't fight me on this."
We locked gazes, and he had no chance of winning in a battle of wills. As much as it pained me to think about sending him away, I'd known when we'd left the compound that this was one of the options. I was selfish. That didn't mean I couldn't think with my head and leave other parts of myself out of the right decision.
"I promise."
"Good boy. Now we need to work." I gave him a quick kiss, anything slower and I wouldn't be looking at the case the rest of the evening. I turned to sit on the floor, my back rested against the bed, my head on his leg, and his arms twined around my neck.
He sat his chin on the top of my head, and I could just about hear his thoughts. Every insecurity, his hate for being forced out, and I didn't disagree. He'd never had the chance to make a normal life. Almost since birth it was already outlined for him. Ever since we fled the hotel, I'd made sure to take his needs into consideration. Yet in this case, I had to go full Daddy on him and tell him what had to be done. We were forced to be together, but I didn't feel trapped by us.
The outside forces, the Cross family, they were the danger to this nice bubble of ours. What happened when we did succeed in ridding him of the threat?
I scrubbed my hands over my face, scratched my beard, and tried to free myself of the what-ifs. I was turning into an old, sappy fool, and his trust and gratitude was fucking with my head. Was I really thinking there could be something beyond this forced intimacy and that it could continue past the deadline of a court date? Why not?
Twenty
Josh
My anxiety was at an all-time high as I paced our room and tried not to look at the papers and pictures lining the one wall. As Yuri had gone through paper files, and the ones on the flash drive, more print outs and handwritten notes joined the already overwhelming visual.
It was broken down into main players, Vernon and the Senator, associates in all ranks and some were just rumors. Looking at all of it brought back my days of sitting in court. I could still hear their voices. I wrung my hands as I walked the perimeter, stopping on each pass to draw fresh air into my lungs. The compulsion to self-harm began to ride me hard. A cold sweat broke out under my clothes, the cotton of my t-shirt sticking to the valley of my spine.
I was left alone for an hour. Yuri wanted to ask West a few questions and then was going to grab something for lunch and dinner. He'd tried to explain that he thought he recognized a few of the men from the surveillance photos. He was sure they were two of the men who carried out the hit at the hotel. I didn't remember anything from that day except the panic over losing Yuri.
He stilled carried himself a bit stiffly, but the two bullet holes were healed. The edges were ragged from where they'd had to dig out the rounds. He'd joked about not being as young as he used to be. Time wasn't erasing the memories of nearly losing him. I stopped and slowly pivoted.
Vernon Cross was the type of man men and women flocked to; they saw him as the ultimate prize. Rich and handsome, caring, but that was until you got to know him. A demon in the guise of an angel.
