Walking Wounded

by Lee Rowan

  John frowned at the photo. “Kev—you’ve done this sort of thing before, haven’t you? What can we expect? How long do you think it’s going to be until we can get back to some kind of normal life?”

  He hated to ask, didn’t want to put Kevin on the spot, but this situation was affecting him far more than he had thought it would. The grille over the doors, the mesh on the window, the knowledge that there were men outside staking them out and waiting for a killer… it was not the sort of life he’d expected to lead. Possibly not a life that he could lead for very long without having to resort to professional help.

  And Kevin’s face showed that he understood all that without John having to say it. “I don’t know.” He gathered up the papers and slid them back into the folder, leaving out what had to be the contract Jones had spoken of. “I don’t know what to tell you, Johnny. I know you don’t want a lie—and if I said, ‘Oh, just a couple of days,’ two days from now you’d know I was lying to you, and I don’t want that.”

  “Weeks? Months?”

  “God, not months—it shouldn’t be months.” Kevin took John’s hand. “I can tell you what should be happening right now, more or less. Pictures and other info have been sent out to security at airports and borders—Customs, police, agencies that rent any sort of vehicle more aggressive than a bicycle. Blackwell may have resources, but he can’t make himself invisible. Unless he’s rented a boat and gone out to meet some other vessel in international waters, sooner or later someone will spot him.”

  John nodded. That was about what he had guessed, but Kevin’s confirmation was reassuring. “That will happen sooner rather than later if he’s here in Portsmouth.”

  “Yes, especially if he makes an attempt on this house. But—” Kevin frowned, running his free hand through his hair. “Now that I think about it, Johnny—he might not have any idea where to look for me. Since I bolted after the hearing and moved in with you, my family are the only ones who have any idea where I am. We haven’t bought this place yet, so my name’s not on any land title. My mail is forwarded by a woman who’s been working in Intelligence since the Cold War. She’s not the sort who’d let anything slip. I’m not in public records—haven’t even changed the address on my car registration.”

  “He found your old commanding officer, though.”

  “Shaney? That’s true. But Shaney was still on active duty, and I suppose just about anyone could have followed him home from the office or watched until he went to his local pub. When I resigned, one of the terms I insisted on was that my whereabouts be kept confidential afterwards. I didn’t want to have to deal with any more damned reporters.”

  “So if they’ve kept it quiet, he could be anywhere in England. Assuming he doesn’t have some sort of inside contact—”

  “If he did, I’d be dead by now,” Kevin said simply. “I’ll have to call the Colonel tomorrow and ask him some very specific questions.”

  “Not tonight?”

  “What difference would it make? It can wait, Johnny. They may have more information in the morning—hell, they may have caught him by morning. I just want to wash up and go to bed.”

  “Sounds good.” As they stood, John was suddenly aware of how bone-deep tired he was. He wasn’t wearing his watch, and they hadn’t unpacked the kitchen clock yet, but it felt very late. “Kev, what time is it?”

  “Nearly one.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.” He gave John a halfhearted smile. “I expected we’d be up this late tonight, but not this way.” He nodded toward the telephone. “I’m going to reconnect that, just as added insurance.”

  “Go ahead. If you’re feeling as festive as I am, there’ll be nothing for them to hear.”

  “I still want you to wash my back.” Kevin reconnected the phone. “We’ll call it a night, then,” he said distinctly. “I’m going to leave the light on over the sink.”

  They spent another few minutes checking locks and activating the various warning systems, then made their way upstairs and hit the shower. John said nothing about his misgivings, but it bothered him that he couldn’t see the door from inside the shower stall. Couldn’t hear anything either, with the water running.

  “What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

  “Nothing serious. Just worried and angry.”

  “Yeah, same here.” Kevin handed him the sandalwood soap they’d opened that morning. “See if you can scrub some of it off me.”

  John lathered his hands and let himself be distracted. That wasn’t a bad idea, washing off the bad vibes. It might be a primitive ritual, but when all the sophisticated analysis was said and done, it was the rituals that spoke to the soul when no amount of words could get through.

  And Kevin seemed to be at his happiest when he was soaking wet. No matter what was waiting for them tomorrow, right here and now they had each other. John knelt, resting his head against one of Kev’s thighs while he washed his legs, and planted a very wet kiss on Kevin’s quiescent cock.

  “God, that feels good,” Kevin said, hands braced on John’s shoulders. “Wish I wasn’t so damned tired.”

  “I’m just as glad you are. I’m not up for anything tonight.” As John stood again, his fingers ran over the irregularity of the scar on Kevin’s arm. His stomach clenched, and he pulled Kevin close.

  Kevin laughed. “I thought you weren’t—”

  “I’m not. Just want to hold you.” Fear and anger might excite some men’s libidos, but John was not one of them. He breathed in, made himself relax, and loosened his grip. “Sorry, love. I’m really not handling this well.”

  “You’ll have to tell me sometime how you define ‘well.’” Kevin turned his face enough to brush his lips across John’s temple. “You haven’t panicked. You haven’t bailed. Hell, you haven’t even reamed me out for dumping this mess on your doorstep, and you’ve every right to do that!” He took the soap out of John’s hand. “Your turn.”

  John closed his eyes and held on to the grab bar, focusing on the strong, sure touch of Kevin’s hands. Kevin knew what he was doing. His old team was out there, guarding his back. Nothing was going to get into this house; they would be all right. He did his best to imagine his fears being rinsed away and down the drain, but suspected it was his lover’s attention that did the most good.

  Kevin shut off the water, and the next thing John knew, he was being swathed in a warm, dry towel. “I’ll tell you, Johnny,” Kevin said. “I’ve seen the inside of a lot of safe houses, but I never saw one to match what we’ve got here.”

  “Kev,” he said, feeling a little less grim. “This is a gay safe house. We have a stereotype to uphold.”

  His nice warm towel was snatched away. “Get in bed quick, and I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  “Ooh, macho man.” He sprinted down the hall before Kevin could snap the towel at him, and practically dove between the clean, welcoming sheets.

  As Kevin settled in beside him, John threw an arm across his lover. Even fresh from the shower, his hair faintly damp, there was something in Kevin’s natural scent that stirred him. A bit of a cuddle would be nice. Or possibly more. He ran a tentative finger along the side of Kevin’s jaw. “Kev, just how tired are you?”

  “Hm.” Kevin rolled closer. As their legs twined together, he burrowed his face into the hollow between John’s throat and shoulder. “Pretty damn tired. But I might possibly be persuaded.”

  His breath was just warm enough to make John shiver. “Really?”

  “Mm. Might take a lot of persuading.”

  “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

  “Mm. Thanks.” He snuggled in closer and gave a deep sigh.

  John thought Kevin was joking, until his breath caught in a faint snore. Kev was warm, naked, irresistible…, and dead to the world. John considered whether it would be worthwhile trying to wake him in some seductive way, then reflected on how long a day it had been and how sleepy he was himself, and decided that they’d both enjoy sex more if
they were rested. He could tease Kev tomorrow about it, maybe challenge him to prove he wasn’t already bored with domesticity.

  A few years ago he wouldn’t have been thinking this way or letting the chance slip by. Neither of them would. But after all that had happened, a few years ago was practically another lifetime. For now, it was enough to be warm and safe, drifting off to sleep with Kevin in his arms. Their problems could wait until morning.

  Chapter 13

  IT WAS dark, pitch black, and the enemy was somewhere outside, waiting, just waiting for the right moment to strike. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear worth a damn. This bunker was like a concrete box—all very well, but it wouldn’t withstand a direct hit. And he didn’t know what was out there, what he was facing, only that it was nearer than they thought and had no intention other than murder, and it was so close in here, every movement was like swimming in quicksand—

  Someone grabbed him. They’d got in from behind! He spun, lashing out. Something caught his arm; he struggled to break free.

  “Kev?”

  “No!”

  “It’s okay, it’s all right, love. It’s all right. Calm down. Bad dream.”

  Panting, Kevin flailed around and found the lamp, knocking it half off the table before he got control of himself. His body went on shaking for a minute after his mind recognized that Johnny was only telling the truth. He was in bed at home. Their new home, his and John’s, no pictures on the walls yet or even a headboard on the bed, but safe enough, at least for the moment. “Sorry,” he said finally, angry with himself. “I thought I was finished with this shit.”

  “It’s all right, Kev.” John rummaged around on the floor—he didn’t have a bedside table, something they planned to remedy eventually—and handed Kevin a plastic water bottle. “With everything that seems to be hitting the fan, it would’ve been a surprise if your subconscious hadn’t been stirred up.”

  He wasn’t really thirsty, but he drank some water anyway, appreciating the gesture. “Are you all right? I didn’t—”

  “You were tossing around. I think you got tangled up in the sheet. You didn’t hit me, I’m fine. How about you?”

  Kevin shook his head, looked at the clock: 3:47 a.m. Much too early to get up. “I’m all right.” A look at John’s neutral expression made him more honest. “No, I’m not all right, but there’s not much I can do about it. If I were by myself, I’d just get up and read for a while, until I felt sleepy. I could do that—”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Leave this nice warm bed and my nice bed warmer? Not a chance.” John reached out toward him, and Kevin allowed himself to be pulled down into a comforting embrace. “Johnny, I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, but it’s nothing you’ve done. We’ll get through it.”

  Kevin tried to relax, but the adrenaline was still humming through him. “The last time this happened, you said something about hypnotizing me. Were you serious?”

  John hesitated a moment. “Yes, I was. But strictly speaking, it would be better for you to work with a disinterested third party.”

  “No.” He realized that sounded harsh, and added, “Not right now, at any rate. I don’t want to deal with any more health service people, and I trust you. Why wouldn’t you want to do it?”

  “Two reasons. Professional detachment—I haven’t got any with you—plus, I’m not an expert.”

  “But you do know how.”

  “The basics. I took a course, and I’ve practiced on other students. I made tapes for myself that seemed to work, but—”

  “That’s good enough for me. As for the detachment business, so long as you don’t plan to make me cluck like a chicken—”

  John chuckled. “That’s a myth, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t, but let’s see what you can do, at least for now. If it works, we’re in good shape. If it doesn’t work at all, I’m no worse off, and if it doesn’t work as well as you think it should, we can decide what to do next.”

  John mulled that over for a minute. “All right, that’s reasonable. What do you know about hypnosis? Besides the misinformation about chickens.”

  “Not a lot.” Kevin yawned, the fatigue beginning to settle in again, but he was still too keyed up to sleep. “Just assume I’m completely ignorant. Imagine I’ve just walked into your office and told you I’m having trouble sleeping, but I don’t want to use pills.”

  “All right. I’ll skip the client history. We already know what’s causing the problem. Sometimes people don’t. The cause can be work-related, or a difficult relationship—I hope we can rule that out, at least.”

  Getting comfortable on John’s shoulder, Kevin smiled. “No problem there. Got a great lover.” He slid an arm across John’s chest. “I suppose you could call this mess an old job-related annoyance.”

  Johnny rested his hand on Kevin’s forearm, stroking the skin lightly with his thumb. “That’s a good start. Now, you probably know that hypnosis is really nothing more than a state of relaxed concentration. It isn’t some kind of Svengali thing. I’m not going to take control of your mind or anything like that. It’s more like going to a physical trainer for coaching. You’re learning how to do an exercise, a mental exercise, and I’ll talk you through it at first because until you’re familiar with the process, it’s just easier to let me handle that part of it. I’ll give you suggestions about things you can do to help yourself relax, but you’re in control. You have the freedom to accept or reject anything I say if it doesn’t work for you.”

  “Okay,” Kevin said. He’d always liked Johnny’s voice anyway, but he hadn’t noticed before how soothing it was.

  “There’s nothing like what you see in films,” John continued. “No flashing lights, no bells, no feeling of falling, or anything like that. It’s just a feeling of relaxation. And it’s another myth that stupid people are easier to hypnotize. Truth is, it’s easier for someone who’s intelligent and has the ability to concentrate, to focus, to learn how to go into a hypnotic state. You just start by taking a deep breath, and the reason for that is physical. Your body tenses a little when you inhale, and when you exhale, your whole body relaxes, so when you focus on your breathing, your mind becomes aware of that relaxation, and every breath lets you relax a little further. Just take a deep breath now, Kev.”

  Kevin did so. As he released it he felt his muscles responding and realized that Johnny was right. Nothing to it, really.

  “Yeah, you see? That’s all there is to it. Just breathe normally, naturally, and pay attention to the way your body relaxes when you exhale… just a little bit more relaxed with each breath. Just tell yourself, ‘with every breath, deeper…’ and every breath will help you continue relaxing, becoming more comfortable. You can let your eyes close now, if you like.”

  With another yawn, a huge one this time, Kevin did just that. It wasn’t the most stimulating lecture he’d ever listened to, but the pleasant, comforting hum of Johnny’s voice lulled him down into relaxation, and eventually into blessed sleep.

  WHEN HE woke up, the room was full of daylight, diffused through the closed miniblinds, and Johnny was nowhere to be seen. The clock on the nightstand said it was almost ten. Kevin stretched luxuriously. He didn’t remember the rest of the hypnosis session, but either John had done it and it had worked a treat, or he simply gave the most boring, sleep-inducing lecture known to man. Kevin hoped for the former—and he also hoped John’s future clients would be given slightly less consideration than he had been. He wasn’t going to stand for having his lover hypnotize his clients and snuggling up with them stark naked.

  Feeling unexpectedly optimistic, Kevin rummaged in his suitcase for fresh underwear, then had a shave and headed downstairs. He found an absurdly domestic scene—John, in his habitual sweatpants, washing up the dishes they’d left from the night before, the teakettle just coming to a boil on the cooker. “Sorry I fell asleep before you could hypnotize me,” Kevin called above the sound of running water.

&n
bsp; “You didn’t,” John said over his shoulder.

  “I must have, Johnny. I don’t remember a word you said beyond telling me to relax when I exhale.” Kevin rescued the screaming kettle and poured water over the tea already waiting in the pot. “Slept well, though.” He carried the pot to the table, then went over to give his industrious lover a kiss on the back of the neck. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “You went under, love.” John turned around, laughing, and pointed. “Look at your pants.”

  “What—?” Kevin glanced down and was horrified to find himself wearing the nether garment that John had, in a fit of whimsy, bought for him the day they’d signed the lease. Skintight briefs in screaming fluorescent orange were not his style at all, still less when they had WEAPON OF MASS SEDUCTION blazoned across the front. He had, of course, refused to wear the damned things. “Johnny, you said no Svengali tricks!”

  “Kev, I asked if you’d be willing to put those on, just this once, to prove you were really hypnotized, and you said yes.”

  “Hypnotized? I must’ve been insane!”

  Johnny was wiping his hands dry on a towel, his grin shifting from warm to wicked. “I promised I’d take them off you. Slowly.”

  “Right now?”

  “Why not?” He tossed the towel on the counter and put his arms around Kevin, hooking his thumbs in the waistband and sliding them down. “We’ve done the bedroom and bath so far… why not the kitchen?” His hands were hot from the dishwater. Kevin shivered at the contrast to the cooler air in the room.

  He glanced at the phone as Johnny began nuzzling his neck, saw that John had prudently rendered it incommunicado. “Too bad we don’t have a decent table.”