SURE (Men of the ESRB Book 3)

by Hollis Shiloh

  The captain stared at him, apparently too stunned to speak. His face started to get red. "There's . . . there is a fund started."

  "Yeah?" Ellery looked at his face, still hard and angry. "Well, it'd better get plenty of donations. And that kid better have what he needs. Because you guys fucked up. Mercer should never have been undercover if he couldn't keep it in his pants, and she shouldn't have been used as a witness when she was so vulnerable!"

  The captain started to get mad. "Listen, you have a lot of nerve commenting on an investigation you had no part in."

  I knew the captain hadn't had full say over what had happened, either, and I was about to say something to calm Ell down (even though it was glorious seeing him like this, and I thought he had a good point).

  The captain scowled. "Are you leaving?" he asked crisply. "I have nothing more to say to either of you."

  "Yes. We're leaving," said Ellery, glaring. "But don't forget I'll report you if you drag Peter back into this . . . this madhouse!" He started to go, then turned around and marched back, his cheeks hot. "Except for the information about the fund for the kid. Peter and I want to donate to that, too. You need to send the information to us."

  And with that, he turned on his heel and hurried from the room, tugging me after him firmly.

  "Hey," I complained, feeling both grateful and ridiculously close to laughing at him. Ell didn't get fierce — he just didn't!

  "What?" he asked, scowling at me and shoving my jacket into my hands. We were so close to being gone, I hoped forever. "You saved him from being tried for murder. You've given them their lead. They can do the rest themselves! And they were wrong to choose her as a sacrifice!"

  "Okay. But . . . report them?" I shrugged into my jacket, unable to keep a weary grin off my face. I shook my head at him. "You picked a fine time to get fierce. Not that I don't appreciate it."

  "I meant it. I'm not having them kill you to save a few extra steps in the process. You helped with one thing — and it took a lot out of you. Don't go back there, Peter. I mean it. It's not good."

  He looked into my face, the concern there easy to read even without my empath talents. "I don't want to lose you," he said quietly.

  The feeling startled me, so stark inside him. He was honestly worried about my mental health — even my life. It wasn't a vision or his anxiety acting up. It was the way I'd been acting. Having to be involved in an interrogation that way had been very difficult for me — and he realized it.

  Of course, I wasn't about to drop dead from the strain or harm myself, but he didn't know that. He was genuinely concerned and acting out of a desire to keep me safe and alive. And, to be honest, it had gotten that bad in the past, where I was thinking about dying, and wishing I could escape that way, any way at all.

  "Hon, let's get out of here," I said, touching his shoulder. I wanted to thank him for caring so much, for looking out for me, but I would probably get choked up if I did, and I didn't want anyone seeing me that way here.

  He nodded, grabbed his jacket, and we left.

  #

  When he wanted to go dancing, I jumped on that suggestion so quick your head would've spun.

  "What brought this on?" I couldn't help asking as we flagged down a cab.

  "I like dancing, too," he said. "It makes me feel alive. And I want to feel alive tonight, don't you?"

  I heartily agreed. "I guess we feel the same way about things," I said, somehow surprised by that.

  "Sometimes," agreed Ell. "Sometimes we're very different. I know that. But I guess I'll keep you anyway." He gave me a quick, naughty grin.

  When we got to the club, it was packed. I didn't see Angel — but before a half hour had gone by, he saw me and headed over to join us.

  "Pete," he said, smiling at me, his eyes warm. He was such a sweet guy, and he'd never be able to hide that. What I liked best about him, aside from his hot body and beautiful eyes, was that he'd never tried.

  He wasn't like Damon — not at all. Angel accepted himself for who he was, whether anyone else did or not. That's what had made it hurt so much when he couldn't accept me for who I was.

  "Angel, this is Ellery," I said, almost at a shout, because the music was loud. I put a hand gingerly on my boyfriend's back, trying not to be either possessive or bossy.

  Angel did a double take, seeing Ell for the first time. Then an incredulous smile spread across his face. "You are beautiful."

  Ellery stared back, drinking in the hot Latino goodness that was Angel's beauty. Think of an adjective for someone gorgeous. Angel probably fits it.

  Now, Ellery was pretty hot himself, but he seemed stunned under those appreciative, warm eyes. "Th-thanks," he said.

  "How did you meet?" said Angel, making conversation. He was being so kind, I could hardly believe it. He flashed us both a smile, no malice in it.

  He meant it when he said Ellery was beautiful, but it was a free compliment, no ulterior motives in it at all. He was a beautiful man who appreciated beautiful men.

  "We work together, sort of," I said.

  Ellery held out his hand, looking a bit breathless. "I'm a clairvoyant," he explained.

  Angel's eyebrows shot up. "Ah. But you understand him, then. You are both the same."

  "No," I said at the same time as Ellery said, "Yes."

  We looked at each other and clarified.

  "We both have talents, so we understand what it's like," said Ellery.

  "But we don't have the same talent," I added. I really wasn't enjoying this conversation. I wanted to be anywhere else, even back at the precinct. I felt raw, exposed.

  Angel's eyes were compassionate and too-knowing. "And I did not understand. I am sorry again. It was wrong of me."

  Ell looked back and forth between us, then put a hand on my forearm and squeezed gently. "Let's dance, Pete."

  Angel nodded and stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. He had the look of a man who was going to enjoy watching. "You are beautiful together. He is good for you."

  "Thanks," I managed as Ell led me out to dance, his touch on my arm light, guiding me, protecting me.

  I danced. Ell danced. Angel was right; we were beautiful together. Always had been and, I hoped, always would be. I could feel the crowd's enjoyment mixing with our own. My painful, raw feelings began to ease.

  By the third song, I felt much better. Flushed, hot, and thirsty, but calmer, my heart no longer thundering with vulnerability. Ellery's presence grounded and protected me. The admiration of the crowd filled me with something good, where before I'd been feeling ragged and fragile inside, scrubbed raw and humiliated.

  When we got back to the table to join Angel for a drink, I felt light on my feet, loose-limbed and warm. I slid an arm around Ellery, just because I could, as we slid into the booth together. He gave me a look that was both warm and intimate, and a bit teasing. He licked his lower lip sensuously, let his eyelids droop, and leaned against me, letting his dimple show in his hot, lazy grin.

  I leaned in and kissed him. He tasted just right.

  Angel was still watching, so I stopped the kiss and straightened my shirt. I was turned on, and glad I was sitting down so nobody could notice and comment on that. Trust me, it was the kind of club where people would comment, even if Angel didn't.

  "Beautiful," said Angel again.

  "Yes, but I think you've watched enough now," said Ellery, and gave him a wink. He leaned forward. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know more about you."

  Angel did. They were soon chatting and laughing together, even reaching across the table to hold hands for a brief moment. I wasn't entirely comfortable with the fact that Ellery and Angel got on like a house on fire.

  I didn't get sexual interest from them — and I'd have been more than aware of it if it had been there. Even though it probably looked like flirting to everyone else in the room, I could feel the authentic thing going on between them. They genuinely liked each other. Though they each appreciated the other's appearance �
� and they'd have to be dead not to, I thought — it wasn't in an 'I want to fuck him' kind of way.

  Each thought the other was cute and interesting. There was an affinity there, instead of the jealousy and awkwardness that were more to be expected in this situation. It wasn't that I wanted them to fight over me or get ruffled feathers; I didn't. I just felt a little weird that Ellery and my ex were becoming fast friends. They were chatting like they'd known each other for years.

  I ordered a few more drinks and some things to eat, but I ended up paying more attention to the food than either of them did. They talked with such friendly animation, they barely ate a couple of fries, Ellery plucking one up with his delicate, slim fingers and then waving it about to illuminate some point he was making, Angel snatching a couple quickly, chewing and swallowing as if it was a chore to be hurried out of the way, and then nodding hard, eager to talk again as soon as he'd swallowed. He wiped his fingers delicately on his jeans, forgetting there were napkins right there.

  I had the fried chicken strips all to myself, and their white-meat, breaded deliciousness didn't fill me with anything like happiness, just sated my hunger.

  After a bit, Ellery looked at me, his eyes widening suddenly. "Peter. I'm sorry." He reached over and squeezed my thigh. "You're tired, aren't you? We should get some rest before the flight back tomorrow."

  "Ah," said Angel, looking at us both quickly, and then focusing on me, his gaze getting gentle in a way that I hated, because it felt like pity, and it reminded me of other looks he'd given me, tender looks when we'd woken up in the same bed, knowing we had a whole day to share with only one another.

  I was going to cry any minute, and I didn't know why. I felt awful, frazzled to the bone. "Sorry," I mumbled, wanting to hide my face from their knowing compassion. "It was a long day."

  "Of course." We all rose, me slightly slower than the other two, who moved as if they were in sync. Ellery put an arm around me and rubbed my shoulder gently.

  When we were out of the booth, Angel moved in to hug me, a gentle hug accompanied by a quick kiss on the cheek. "You will be very happy with this man," he promised. "Go home, rest. It was good to see you both."

  He looked at me with intensity shining in his eyes and something very kind in his heart, something like love, even though it wasn't. His feelings were warm and he was only a little hurt inside — the ache of missing me, missing having a man of his own. But he'd accepted it, knew this was how it was, and he didn't hold it against either of us.

  I wouldn't hold it against him anymore, either. I couldn't. But I couldn't hug him back with much conviction, either. Then Ell moved in for a hug with Angel.

  "You will call me, right?" asked Ellery, drawing back from his tight hug with Angel and holding him at arm's length. "Promise?"

  "I promise." Angel made a cross over his heart and grinned.

  They'd exchanged numbers while I was eating. And some funny pictures on their phones, passing them back and forth to look at, laughing together over silly things while I choked down chicken and tried not to scream in boredom.

  "This is for you. Friends don't let friends do without," he said, pressing something into Angel's hand with a very stern, almost scolding look.

  It looked like a roll of money. From Angel's startled face, it felt like it, too.

  "And wear protection," I added, recovering my wits a bit, enough to give him a wink.

  Angel flushed slightly, the faintest hint of darkness to his already dusky skin. He ducked his head in a nod, embarrassed.

  "Because we care about you and want you to be safe and happy," said Ellery, pulling him in for another hug.

  Angel tried to give back the money, but Ellery kissed him on the cheek and whispered something to him that left him still and stunned, and then we left before he could change his mind. Ellery pulled me after him, holding on to my hand tightly, as if he was afraid of losing me in the crowd.

  I realized I kind of liked it when he took charge. I usually felt like I needed to take care of him — but not today. Today I'd learned a lot about his strength of will. I was proud of him, even if I was less than proud of myself for needing to be taken care of.

  Ellery waved to the crowd as we left, and at least a third of the dancers waved back, as if he'd been specifically waving at them and they would miss him. The feelings around the room confirmed it. "Golly, you have some fans," I observed.

  "Oh, we always get that reaction when we dance together, don't you think?" He glanced at me, unsure now. "I thought you liked it."

  "I do," I admitted. "As long as I know you don't actually want to leave me for any of them." I sounded more hesitant and sincere than I'd meant to. It was supposed to have been a flippant remark. It didn't work that way.

  He gave me an intent look, almost a hard look, and squeezed my hand harder. "I can promise you that won't happen, Peter." He gave my hand a little shake. "Come on, let's go back and get some sleep."

  We stood on the curb and he raised a hand, standing as tall as he could, to hail a cab. He looked so precious, compact and strong and vital and real, standing there in his good clothes, looking edible. His hair was a bit askew, the way it normally was, and the neon from the club backlighting him made it glow different colors, reddish and purple and orange-yellow and off-white.

  I felt I could melt into his strength and let him carry me, keeping me safe forever. I kept hold of his hand for comfort and safety.

  The lights also touched the damp street, and the wheels of passing traffic swooshed in the wetness, a comfortable sound. The rain must have been light, because it hadn't made big splashy puddles, just a damp sheen that glowed in the city's night lights.

  My fingers were cold, except the ones clasped in his hand. I wanted to say something, but I wasn't sure what. At a loss for words? Me? I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would cry instead. Ellery hadn't noticed, kept scanning the street for a cab.

  One pulled up, swift and quiet, and he let out a nervous breath. "Good. I was afraid we'd have to call." He looked at me, still holding my hand, and then released it long enough to tumble into the back of the cab, leaving plenty of room for me.

  The cab smelled of cigarettes and incense and something like chewing gum, something sweet. Another odor clung beneath it, the reek of someone's perfume or aftershave. It was too strong, clinging to the space like a ghost, or writing on a bathroom wall, an unwanted reminder of someone else's invasion of the space.

  I shut the door behind me. It closed with the quiet, authoritative clunk of an expensive vehicle. There was the distinct, quiet sound of the locks clicking, a frightening, final sound.

  "Oh, dear," said Ellery, giving me a stunned look.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I was shivering, teeth chattering. I reached for the lock, tried to open it manually. No luck. Was this a real cab? Did they do that?

  The cabbie suddenly seemed like a dark, menacing shadow in the front. He hadn't threatened us — yet.

  I fumbled my phone out of my pocket, unable to think of anything but getting help. Ellery clutched my arm, fingers digging in. He made a small sound, like a whimper. Neither of us knew what to do.

  My hands trembled as I fumbled with my phone. The light seemed bright in the back of the cab, and I was afraid every moment that the cab driver — or whoever he really was — would stop me, perhaps with a gun and a threat and a silky, villainous voice.

  So far I'd gotten no strong feelings from him at all, but Ellery and I were terrified. With a couple of quick swipes and taps, I called Kev before I could second-guess our terror. Of course, the moment the phone began its first tinny ring, I wondered if that was procedure here; perhaps there were a lot of thefts.

  But the cab had pulled away, and he hadn't asked where we were going. Please, Kev, pick up. Help me. Know what to do!

  Should I have called the precinct instead? Somehow I couldn't imagine turning to the captain, hearing him bark at me over the phone, scorning my fear. A couple of raging poofs,
scared of their own shadows, he'd likely think, even if he never said it. The feelings I'd get off him the next time I saw him in person would tell the tale. And I wasn't supposed to see him, not ever again.

  I was supposed to go home, to be safe in my little room in the big building, with Kev to run to like a security blanket older brother if I got even minimally scared. All the security guards around, all the safety, the peace and quiet and good things to eat, and time to rest and recover.

  I wanted Kevin desperately. Instead, I had Ellery, shivering beside me, as frightened as I was. My fear fed off his to a level of near hysteria. Still, the driver hadn't spoken or threatened, and I hadn't dared say a word, either. The phone rang, and there was Kevin's voice, reassuringly real.

  "Hello?" He sounded tinny and far away; the phone was still on my lap.

  I lifted it quickly to my face. "Help us, Kevin. We're in a cab and he's locked the doors, and I don't think it's really a cab at all." I desperately hoped my slightly hysterical whisper carried over the distance between us.

  There was a pregnant pause. "Go along with him," said Kevin, his voice deadly serious, calm in a way that said more about his fear than anything else could've. "Don't resist. I'll get you free."

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak again. Even though he couldn't see me, of course.

  "Where are you?" asked Kevin very softly.

  "We just left Klub F.U.," I whispered. "Me and Ell. Please hurry."

  "Do you have a sense of what he wants?"

  I made a small sound in my throat that wasn't meant to be a whimper, but sounded like one anyway.

  "I think you should hang up now," said the driver, his manner jovial. He wasn't feeling strong emotions at all, but he had a steadiness of purpose about him. "Pass it up here. His, too, if you please." Keeping an eye on us in the mirror, he held out his hand over the back seat.