by Brandon Witt
Without closing the door all the way to avoid making any noise, Ridley flipped on the light in the bathroom, blinking at the harsh glare, and flushed the toilet. He didn’t want Alex to know he’d been spying on him, so he flipped on the water, letting it run as he examined his reflection in the mirror. His hair was pointing in a hundred different directions, the ring in his lip was missing, and his rapidly rising and falling chest was covered in love bites, hickeys, and bruises the exact size of Alex’s fingers.
Shockingly, he looked worse, had more marks on his body than he’d had the first time he’d been with Alex. Shaking his head, Ridley cut the water off and flipped the light out as he stepped out of the bathroom. The light was on and Alex was leaning against the doorframe in nothing but a pair of blue sweats, his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked pissed.
“Grab your stuff. I’m taking you home,” he informed Ridley.
“Angry ex?” Ridley surmised.
“What?” Alex responded, looking confused.
“I saw you talking to someone out front. The look on your face right now along with your words make me think it’s a pissed-off ex.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “I wish it were that simple.”
When Alex didn’t say anything further, Ridley shrugged and pushed past Alex to go in search of his clothes.
He found his jeans and briefs on the floor near the kitchen island and snatched them up. He laid his jeans across the back of the barstool and stepped into his briefs, pulling them up before picking his jeans back up.
“It’s not an ex,” Alex said again as he joined Ridley in the kitchen. “I can’t tell you who it was, but it wasn’t an ex.”
Ridley shrugged again. He was curious as hell but wasn’t going to ask and said as much. “I didn’t ask.”
Ridley pulled on his jeans, buttoned and zipped them up, and then snatched his T-shirt from the counter and put it on. He was acutely aware of Alex watching him, but he refused to give in to his curiosity. He had a sinking feeling that this would be the last time he saw Alex, and he didn’t want his speculation made a reality. Not yet.
After gathering up his shoes and socks, Ridley took them to the couch, shook out his socks and slid them on and then his shoes. He was tying them when Alex joined him on the couch.
“So that’s it. You’re not going to say anything?”
“What do you want me to say, Alex? You told me to gather up my shit because you were taking me home and that’s what I’m doing.”
“This….” He waved his hand randomly toward the door. “This isn’t about you,” he finally settled on.
“Ok.” Ridley went to his feet and started to walk toward the door. He’d wait outside for Alex to get dressed and grab his keys. Ridley’s heart was pounding painfully and the walls were closing in on him. He needed some fucking air.
“Goddammit, Ridley, stop it,” Alex growled angrily. He grabbed on to Ridley’s arm and spun him around. “It’s not what you think.”
“How the fuck do you know what I’m thinking?” Ridley spat, giving Alex a hard glare.
“Because I can see it on your face and you’re wrong. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah, I fucking believe that,” Ridley challenged. “I ended up in the hospital because it has nothing to do with me. I had Kyle so fucking scared of me he nearly pissed himself when he ran into me because it has nothing to do with me, and you’re demanding I get dressed in the middle of the night so you can take me home because it has nothing to do with me.” Ridley’s voice grew with each statement until he was shouting into Alex’s face. “You know what? Fuck it, I’ll walk.”
The flare of anger was so sudden it made his head spin. The uncertainty, the feeling of rejection, the idea of not seeing Alex again, the unanswered questions all came bubbling up and he went with it, let it take him over. It was a hell of a lot better than allowing the sadness below it to creep to the forefront. Ridley yanked his arm from Alex’s grip and stomped toward the door. He threw it open and a loud crack sounded, followed by wood on the doorframe going flying. Ridley was tackled and shoved sideways, his shoulder hitting the wall with a painful thud.
“Get down,” Alex yelled at the same time he slammed the door shut.
Did someone just try to shoot me? Ridley hesitated, trying to wrap his mind around what the hell had just happened, but he didn’t have time. He flailed as his feet were suddenly knocked from beneath him and he landed on his ass.
“I said get the fuck down. Now stay down and cover your head,” Alex spat and went crawling across the floor. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his sweats, pushing buttons as he moved. “You led them right to me, you dumb shit. Get back here!” Alex shouted into the phone and then pulled something from between the cushions of the couch, spun, and went to his feet, staying in a low crouch.
Ridley heard the slide of metal against metal the same instant he spotted the gun in Alex’s hand. “Stay low to the ground and take cover behind the island,” Alex instructed and pointed toward the kitchen.
Another shot rang out and the front porch light went dark. A second shot hit the picture window, shattering it and sending glass flying across the room.
“Go now,” Alex snarled as he moved toward the door.
Ridley got moving. On hands and knees he crawled across the floor, rolling into the kitchen as soon as he cleared the entryway and then hiding behind the island. From his vantage point he could see Alex crouched low, hand on the doorknob.
Shit, shit, shit. Ridley had known there was something going on with Alex, something bigger than just a jock’s need to pick on a geek, but he hadn’t expected this. Someone was shooting at them. “What the fuck, man?” Ridley grumbled under his breath. This wasn’t the goddamn Wild West.
“If I go down, you get your ass in my room and call 911. You understand me?” Alex demanded in a loud whisper and tossed the phone to him.
Ridley snagged the cell out of the air. “What the fuck is going on?” Ridley asked, his voice cracking as adrenaline surged through him.
“I said, ‘Do you understand me?’” Alex growled.
Ridley nodded.
Alex rolled his shoulders and then eased the gun next to the door and opened it just enough for the barrel to fit through. Wood about a foot above Alex’s head splintered as another shot rang out.
“Shit!” Alex grunted and ducked his head as the splinters rained down on him. “Good thing you’re a bad shot, asshole!” he yelled out.
Another shot sounded but Ridley didn’t see any wood move, and better yet, he didn’t see any blood. Alex snorted, a noise sounding suspiciously like a laugh, and then he threw open the door and was gone, the door slamming behind him as he disappeared.
Ridley stared wide-eyed at the spot Alex had just been. He couldn’t have just…. Ridley rubbed his hand over his jaw. That crazy fucker went out to confront someone who was shooting at him. Holy shit, like seriously shooting to take his goddamn head off kind of aiming.
Ridley had already begun to suspect that Alex wasn’t anything like the outward persona he tried to portray. He’d had proof—twice—that sexually Alex was a hell of a lot tougher than Ridley was. Now as he cowered on the floor of the kitchen clutching a cell phone long after the shots ceased, Ridley knew for one hundred percent fact that Alex was a badass motherfucker and Ridley was….
Not.
FROM HIS hiding place on the front porch, Alex worked to slow his rapidly beating heart and harsh breaths. He was fairly certain he’d taken out the shooter and there was either only one intruder or the car barreling down his drive had chased away any accomplices. Alex’s effort to calm himself was for nothing, both heart and lungs going wild as the car in the drive came to a stop. Alex jumped up, stormed down the steps, and sprinted across the lawn, meeting the driver as he stepped out of the car.
“Do you see this?” Alex asked, pointing to the wood splinters in his hair. “Do you?”
“Is that wood?” Mick asked and
plucked a piece out of Alex’s curls and examined it.
“Yes, from the doorframe that shattered over my head. You know, when a bullet was aimed at it.” Alex swatted the splinter out of Mick’s hand.
“Good thing the guy was a bad shot, eh? I mean seriously, how can anyone miss this mop?” Mick mused and pulled at one of Alex’s curls.
“It’s not funny! You led them right to me, you dumb shit,” Alex accused angrily.
“Whoa now, you can’t know it was my fault.” Mick gave Alex an exasperated look. “Umm, if they know where you are, do you think it’s a good idea to be standing out here in the open bitching at me?”
It took all Alex’s effort not to stomp his foot or punch Mick in the face or…. Ugh, the bastard was right. Alex had been so pumped up on adrenaline, as well as pissed off, he’d gone off half-cocked. Recklessly running across the yard to bitch at his friend rather than cautiously assessing his environment was pretty stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time Mick had accused him of being crazy. Alex was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But regardless of what Mick said, Alex did not have a death wish, more of a slight temper with a short fuse. Maybe he really did need to look into those anger management classes Mick had suggested more than a few times.
“Fine.” Alex stabbed a finger in Mick’s chest. “But as soon as we deem it safe, I’m reaming your ass.”
“I know how badly you want my sexy ass.” Mick smirked. “But really? How many times do I have to tell you I don’t, nor will I ever, swing your way before you’ll give up?”
Alex rolled his eyes. Mick was talking shit, teasing, but he was also taking in his surroundings with a critical eye, focused, listening, watching. He was the levelheaded half of their team.
“I heard the guy scream from over there,” Alex informed Mick, pointing at the brush along the side of the house. “Give me your flashlight.”
Mick reached into the car and retrieved the light and handed it to Alex. Sweeping the area with a wide beam of light, he headed to where the scream came from, Mick right on his heels. The spot behind the bushes was trampled down, spent casings littered the ground, and there was blood but nothing else.
“Looks like the perp isn’t the only one who’s a bad shot,” Mick commented.
“Hey, at least I hit my target,” Alex grumbled and started following the blood trail to the east. The wind still, the nightlife silent in the wake of the disturbance, the only sound was the low rumble of Mick’s idling engine. The trail led them to an opening on the other side of a small grove of trees and ended next to tire tracks.
“Shit,” Alex complained and rubbed at the ache that had settled at the back of his neck. “Did you see any other cars when you came in?”
Mick shook his head and pulled out his cell. “I gotta call this in.”
“Goddammit,” Alex cursed again. “I am so sick of this bullshit.”
“Oh, quit your bitching. You hated working at the library. Here’s your chance to get a manlier job.”
“I got your manly”—Alex growled and grabbed his crotch—“right here.”
Mick laughed, then into his cell said, “Ramirez here. We’ve been compromised. He’s gotten himself found out.” Mick arched a brow at Alex. “Again.”
Alex flipped him off.
He’d hated this place since day one. Hated the school and the job and who the hell in their right mind would want to live in the northern peninsula of Michigan anyway, especially in the winter. And they thought he was crazy. Crazy was being a goddamn Yooper. The only thing that had made Slater even slightly tolerable was Ridley.
“Oh fuck. Ridley!”
Alex took off at a dead run.
“Hey, where the hell are you going?” Mick yelled out.
Alex ignored him. Christ, how had he forgotten Ridley, the one good thing in his life lately? He was the one person who had made the loneliness of anonymity tolerable. Alex sprinted across the yard, bound up the stairs, and threw open the door.
“Ridley!”
“I’m here,” Ridley called out from the kitchen.
Alex halted next to the island, heart pounding so hard it caused a rush of blood to drown out all sound. But Ridley was there, sitting with his back against the cabinets, knees up with his arms wrapped around them, and looking a little freaked out, but safe and whole.
Relieved, Alex fell to his knees next to him. “You okay?” he asked and ran a hand along Ridley’s cheek.
“What the hell just happened?” Ridley asked sounding shell-shocked, eyes wide.
“Is he okay?” Mick asked as he barreled into the kitchen and slammed into the counter. Mick Ramirez was a big man, standing well over six foot and tipping the scales at a meaty two-fifty. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man, so when he hit something—the counter—it made a hell of a sound. With his dark hair shaved close and a large scar along his olive-colored skin from chin to temple, he was an imposing son of a bitch, and Alex completely understood why Ridley tensed, the freaked-out expression on his face morphing into full-on fear.
“It’s okay,” Alex said soothingly, the need to comfort automatic. He sighed heavily when he suddenly realized what he was doing, what he was thinking, what Ridley was beginning to mean to him. He slid his hand down to squeeze Ridley’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re okay.”
“Who—” Ridley’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Who is that?” he asked with a frown, nodding toward Mick.
“Ramirez,” Alex answered and turned to look up at his partner. Mick wasn’t really his partner in the typical sense of the word, but since Mick had been assigned as Alex’s protector, the term was fitting. “He used to be my best friend. He only looks like a hardass, but he’s a big ol’ pussy cat.”
“Hey, Ridley, call me Mick. Glad you’re okay.” Mick then looked at Alex and rolled his eyes dramatically. “I got to make some arrangements to get your ass out of this mess. Yell if you need me.”
Alex gave a curt nod and then turned his attentions back to Ridley, who was staring at Alex’s side, his eyes impossibly wide. Alex looked down and realized he still had his gun in his hand. He set it aside and cupped Ridley’s chin, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze.
“You….” Ridley shook his head. “There were bullets and… glass exploding… and… and…. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ridley snapped and surged to his feet, causing Alex to flail and land on his ass. Ridley put his hands on his hips and scowled down at him. “When bullets are flying, you don’t run directly into their path. What the hell were you thinking? They were shooting at us. And you… you….” Ridley threw up his hands in obvious frustration. “Who the hell does that?”
Alex pulled himself to a sitting position, picked up his gun, and went to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his right one. He set the gun on the counter and lifted his foot—a large piece of wood was imbedded into the heel. Now that the adrenaline rush was seeping from his body, the effects of running over brush and rocks on bare feet were making themselves painfully known.
“Oh shit, you’re bleeding,” Ridley muttered, concern changing the angry tone of his voice.
“I’m fine.” Alex shrugged and jumped up to sit on the counter, then laid his foot across his thigh. “You mind handing me a towel?” The piece of wood wasn’t much bigger in diameter than a toothpick, but the way it was throbbing, it felt like the whole fucking tree.
Ridley grabbed one from the handle on the stove and brought it to him. “You got a first aid kit? Maybe some disinfectant?” Ridley asked as he stared down at the wound.
“Under the sink in the bathroom.”
Ridley left the room and Alex gritted his teeth, grabbed the stick, and yanked. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed and pressed the towel against his foot to stop the flow of blood from the numerous cuts. He examined the other foot; there were a few scrapes, what looked like small slivers of debris along the ball of his foot and in his heel, but none were actively bleeding.
Clean towels and first aid kit i
n hand, Ridley came back into the room and silently laid out his supplies next to Alex. Ridley lifted the towel from Alex’s foot, examined the wounds, and poked at the oozing ones.
Alex flinched and grimaced but didn’t complain. He watched Ridley carefully as he cleaned the wounds, a thoughtful expression on his face. Alex didn’t say a word. Ridley was handling the shock fairly well at the moment and was undoubtedly trying to process it all.
Once the wounds were clean and dry, Ridley wrapped Alex’s foot in gauze and taped it in place. “Thanks,” Alex said sincerely.
Ridley simply nodded and then gathered up the dirty towels and first aid kit and left the room once again without a word.
Alex ran a hand through his curls, his fingers tangling in the tousled strands, bits of wood falling free. On the bright side, he’d be getting a new look and the crazy mop would be the first thing to go. The possibility of a haircut was the only good thing about this whole fucked-up situation. He huffed out a breath and then gingerly got down from the counter. He went to the cabinet and pulled out a can of coffee—he’d no doubt need the caffeine. It was going to be a long day. God only knew where he’d be moving to, but first he had a shit-ton of explaining to do.
He just hoped Ridley would forgive him for all the lies.
RIDLEY RESTED his hands on the vanity and studied his haunted reflection in the mirror. For the second time since he’d awakened, he found himself hiding in the bathroom. “Holy shit,” he mumbled to his stunned reflection. He’d suspected there was a lot more to Alex, but he didn’t expect bullets and windows exploding and… big scary Mexicans with a bad suit and gun. He also damn sure didn’t expect to be sitting on a kitchen floor scared shitless. Now he knew what that look on Kyle’s face had been. Utter fucking fear. Not only did he know what it looked like, he now knew exactly what it felt like.
