Jumping over the two sets of legs, Paul pried Danny’s fingers away from the lamp. He used his shirt to rub at the area where Danny’s fingers had touched the metal, and did his best to mimic the slave’s hold on the thing. Paul hoped his own prints would be easy to detect if anyone even bothered to check. Then he dropped the lamp on the floor.
“Jesus!” Ben stood in the doorway. He’d been a second behind Paul in entering the room. The guy looked from Paul, to Danny, to Fahey’s head, to the lamp and back to Paul.
Paul stared at him unblinkingly. “I came in and found Fahey fucking my slave. I picked up the lamp and bashed him on the head with it. A hotheaded move, but I think we can agree Fahey provoked it.”
Ben hesitated for a second before nodding. “He certainly did from my perspective. I’ll be happy to give a statement to that effect.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call the police, if that’s okay with you.”
“Yes, thanks. I want Fahey in a cell or at least cuffed to a hospital bed.”
When Ben stepped out to make the call, Paul turned his attention to Danny. The boy had remained still and silent since Paul had entered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Paul reached for his shoulders, intending to lift him off Fahey, and stopped. Fahey’s finger was stuck in the D ring of the choke collar around Danny’s neck. Although he could have loosened the collar without touching Fahey’s hand, Paul got a sick satisfaction in the snap of bone as he wrenched the finger out. The fucker deserved it and more besides. Let the cops make of it what they wanted.
The ugly red ring around Danny’s neck infuriated Paul even more. His poor, poor boy. No wonder he’d struck out at his tormentor. No, Danny hadn’t hit Fahey, Paul had. That narrative had to stick and better all around if he didn’t even think of it differently. Danny whimpered when Paul pulled him up, the first real indication that he hadn’t checked out mentally completely. The sight of Fahey’s bloody condom-covered dick flopping around once Danny was upright made Paul want to take out his Swiss army knife and slice the thing off. Sweeping the slave into his arms, he strode over to the bed before temptation got the better of him.
He sat himself up against the headboard and cuddled Danny against his chest. The boy started shivering, shock no doubt setting in. So, Paul whipped the ratty comforter around them both and held Danny as close as he could to give him warmth.
“Shh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“Master,” Danny whispered in return, and grabbed a fistful of Paul’s shirt. “I’m sorry. I tried to hold on for you to come, but he was choking me.” His breath hitched. “I couldn’t breathe. I had to do something.”
Cupping Danny’s chin, Paul lifted the boy’s face up so that he could look into his eyes. Tears swam around them, although they hadn’t yet fallen. The crying would come soon. For now, it was critical to get the story straight even though cops didn’t usually question slaves. Their testimony didn’t count in court.
“Baby, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything. I’m the one who hit Fahey with the lamp. I knocked him out because I came in and found him fucking my slave. Do you understand?” Danny stared back at him blankly for a second, then opened his mouth. “Do you understand?” Paul repeated with more force before the slave could say anything else.
With a hard swallow, Danny nodded. “Yes, Master.”
Paul tucked Danny’s head against his chest again and kissed the top of his head. “Good boy.”
They sat together for a few minutes, Paul offering his boy what comfort he could before the cops came. It didn’t take long. Ben led a couple of uniforms in with EMTs hot on their heels. Fahey remained out and part of Paul hoped the guy would stay out forever. A cursory exam, however, showed the man’s vitals were steady. They put him in a neck brace, hooked up an IV and rolled him out on a stretcher. One cop followed them, the other began the tedious process of getting Paul’s and Ben’s statements.
God, Paul could have kissed Ben full on the mouth when he took the lead and gave the run-down of the day. He painted Fahey as a dangerous and disgruntled ex-employee who had dared to kidnap Ben’s property and threaten the lucrative leasing deal he had with Paul. Paul gave his own account in as few and short sentences as possible. When the cop stared at Paul and Danny, Paul didn’t even care if it looked weird to the guy for Paul to be cuddling his slave. His having an unhealthy affection for the boy helped with the narrative of Paul going ape-shit on Fahey.
The investigation took a turn for the better a few minutes later. The cop pulled what appeared to be cocaine out of Fahey’s backpack. Ben gave Paul a knowing look over the cop’s head. Fahey’s eventual sentence had just gotten much longer. Theft and damage to property was one thing. Hardcore illegal drugs another. Good. Paul wanted the fucker gone for a very long time.
A detective joined the party and the story got told again. Then the woman took pictures of the bruises around Danny’s neck. The boy hadn’t wanted to turn his head away from Paul’s chest, and Paul felt bad about physically forcing him to. At least the shaking had abated somewhat.
“Can we be done here, please?” Paul finally asked, trying not to aggravate the police, yet anxious to get Danny home.
The detective pursed her lips. “I suppose, although I’ll need you both to come down to the station tomorrow and make formal statements.”
Christ, just like on television. Paul forced a smile. “Of course.”
Once Ben echoed him, the detective nodded her head and turned her attention back to the other cop. Thank God. Paul unwrapped Danny and stood up. For the first time, he focused on what the boy wore. No wonder none of his clothes appeared to be missing. Like the clerk had said, Fahey, that sick fuck, had dressed his boy like a girl. He spied a pair of sparkly flip-flops by the bed and shaking his head, cradled Danny in his arms. He didn’t want to put him down with his feet bare and for sure wouldn’t make him slip on the girly footwear.
A violent shudder ran through the boy’s body, but he kept himself curled within Paul’s embrace, not saying anything during the journey to the truck. Ben continued to be rock-solid by following them out and helping Paul open the passenger side door so that Paul could place Danny inside. The boy shuddered again and bit back a whimper when Paul set him on the bench seat. Paul grimaced at the sound, knowing that his boy had to be hurting and wishing he could chase down the ambulance and beat Fahey some more. Instead, he murmured what he hoped was something soothing before shutting the door.
He looked at Ben. “Shit, sorry, I forgot about fitting you inside. Can you squeeze into the middle from the driver’s side?”
Clapping Paul on his shoulder, Ben said, “No worries. I’ve already called Oliver, and he’s on his way to pick me up. You go on and get Danny home.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Paul turned to walk around the front of the truck, stopped and looked back at Ben. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what I would have done without your being along.”
“No need for thanks. Danny is my responsibility, too. I’m the one who gave Fahey access to him, a thing I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I promise I’ll bring whatever power I have to make sure that asshole spends a long time in jail.”
“Amen and thanks anyway. I need to say that.”
With a quick wave, Paul hurried to get into his truck and take off. The ride home was a quiet one. He didn’t know what to say to Danny and figured he’d give him some space. For his part, the slave sat staring straight ahead, sniffling and shuddering every once in a heart-breaking while, yet not saying a thing. The journey seemed interminable. Paul debated with himself about taking Danny to a walk-in clinic instead of straight home, but ultimately decided against it. He’d take a look himself and see how badly the boy was hurt before subjecting him to any further scrutiny. If necessary, Paul would pay to have someone make a house call. He knew some medical practices specialized in coming out to examine slaves, kind of like big animal vets, and he didn’t care what the cost would be.
F
inally, he pulled into his garage and hopped out to help Danny. The boy didn’t try to get out on his own, but he did push back when Paul started to lift him. “I can walk, Master,” he said in a soft voice.
With effort, Paul reined in his instinct to coddle the boy and settled for merely hovering as they entered the house. Danny shuffled his way through the kitchen and started down the hallway to their bedroom. Paul intercepted him and herded him toward the guest bathroom instead.
“In here, baby. I want you to take a bath.”
Danny nodded and changed direction. Once inside, Paul forged ahead and started the water running. He made sure it was the right temperature to soothe not burn, although he knew it would pain his boy to some degree. There was no help for it. With the water flowing, he turned to Danny, who stood staring at the floor.
“Come on, baby, let’s get you out of these—things,” he finally settled on.
He helped pull the tank top off and the skirt down. Danny’s underwear was gone, of course it was, and Paul swallowed back his bile as he tossed the clothes into the waste basket. He really should check the boy out before sticking him in the bath. If he needed stitches or something…. The thought trailed out in his brain, too horrible to finish. With exquisite care, he placed his hands on Danny’s shoulders.
“I know this is hard,” he started, keeping his voice low. “But I need to take a look at you and see how you’re doing. Do you understand?”
After a brief hesitation, Danny nodded. He offered no resistance as Paul led him to the tub and positioned him with his palms resting on the side. It left Danny bent over, ass up. Taking a deep breath for courage, Paul moved behind his boy. He placed his hands on Danny’s hips and slid them down his butt cheeks. The skin he touched quivered despite or maybe because of his gentle touch. He saw for the first time something he hadn’t expected—mottled flesh tinged with dark bruising. The sadistic fucker had beaten Danny as well as raped him. Paul resigned himself to hurting Danny no matter how careful he tried to be.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make this quick.”
Paul spread Danny open and peered down. Even before he saw the red, swollen hole, he spotted streaks of blood. He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to keep from tightening his grip. He forced himself to make a good long, close examination and was somewhat relieved to see that things didn’t look as bad as he’d feared. There was some tearing, yes, but nothing deep. The bleeding had stopped, as well, although it would probably open up again in the water. Still, soaking would help, or at least he thought it would. Once he had Danny in the tub, he’d do a quick internet search to be sure.
“Okay,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s get you in.”
He helped Danny step inside the end of the tub opposite the faucet and held on to him as he sat down. The boy bit back a cry when his ass hit the water, but he didn’t try to stand up again. He allowed Paul to set him fully into a sitting position and unbent his legs.
Feeling helpless, Paul petted Danny’s head before shutting off the water. “I’m sorry it hurts. It should make you feel better, though.” He hoped he was right. “I’m going to get you something for the pain. Are you okay by yourself?” He waited until Danny nodded before leaving.
After confirming that his warm bath idea wasn’t off base, he grabbed a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water before returning to the bathroom. Danny hadn’t moved a muscle while he’d been gone. Paul didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He knew for sure, however, that Danny’s quiet demeanor couldn’t last. The dam of fear and misery had to break at some point soon. He put the pain reliever in front of the boy and watched him slowly place the pills in his mouth and gulp down the water.
Then Paul perched on the side of the tub and just watched his boy sit and soak until the tears started trickling down the slave’s face. Danny still didn’t make a sound, but a crack had formed in the dam and Paul needed to move quickly. Jumping up, he pulled a big towel out of the cabinet and held it out.
“Time to get out, baby.”
Danny moved slowly to obey. The moment he stood up, Paul surged forward to wrap him up and lift him out of the tub. Water dripped down onto Paul and the carpet as he carried the boy into their bedroom. He ignored everything except the increasing tears and the way Danny’s face started to crumble. He had them both lying in bed by the time the crying began in earnest. Mewing cries morphed quickly into loud sobbing with deep, heavy breaths, all a gut-wrenching sound. He clutched at Paul with a kind of desperation, as if terrified that Paul would let him go.
Paul’s feeling of helplessness mounted. He felt utterly useless. He couldn’t do anything other than hug his boy tight, rock him in his arms, and murmur nonsense words of comfort. It was far too little, yet all he had to give to the boy he loved.
Chapter Eighteen
Nothing had changed at the lumberyard in ten days. Not that Danny had expected anything different. It just felt as if he’d been gone forever, like that story he’d read in childhood about a man going to sleep and waking up a hundred years later. When you had no routine, no structure to follow, the days dragged on, blending together until time itself got lost. Danny had never spent so long doing so little. Whenever he’d fantasized about being a rich freeman with nothing to do, he’d never expected it to be so boring. Daytime television sucked, as it turned out, and reading for hours made his eyes hurt. If Paul had allowed him to do housework or landscaping, the enforced absence from the lumberyard would have been bearable. His master hadn’t allowed him to do anything. He’d ordered Danny not to do any kind of work, using an uncharacteristically stern tone. Danny hadn’t dared disobey.
He breathed in the cool air of the warehouse, the familiar smell of wood oddly comforting. He would take anything he could, anything that helped to ease his mind and distract him from the memories of what had happened. Of course, this place also reminded him of the former supervisor, and he assumed everyone there, free people and slave alike, would know what Fahey had done. Maybe the details weren’t known, but people could easily fill in the blanks for themselves. As happy as he was to be back at work, he dreaded the way everyone would look at him and the questions they might ask. Big John most of all. He hadn’t talked to either of his parents since his theft and didn’t know what he would say to his father. Part of him wanted to head straight to the woodworking shop to put off meeting him. Instead, he wended his way through the cavernous building, looking for him just to get it done and over with.
Danny spied his father with a large, dark-skinned man he didn’t recognize. The way the guy stood, clipboard in hand, confident, Danny figured him for a freeman. When he got closer, he could see the man’s bare neck, confirming the fact. Neither of the men spotted Danny until he came to stand a few feet away. Big John’s face lit up with the same smile he’d always worn when he saw Danny. The familiarity of it eased a tightness in his chest. Nothing had changed between him and his father. The freeman followed the slave’s gaze and gave Danny a thorough once-over.
Then the man grinned. “You must be Danny.”
Ducking his head, Danny said, “Yes, sir.”
“My name’s Laidlaw. I’m the new supervisor. It’s good to have you back on the job, boy.”
“Thank you, sir.” He glanced back up in time to see the man clap Big John on the shoulder.
“You two must need some catching up. Take a few minutes, then join me at the loading dock.”
“Thank you, sir.” Big John waited until the man had left before sweeping Danny up in a hug that crushed the breath from Danny’s lungs. “God, it’s good to see you.” He lifted Danny off his feet for a second or two before putting him back down, kissing the top of his head and holding him out to look him over. “You look good, rested.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “I should. I must have napped every day; the boredom alone put me to sleep. How do free people handle so much time off?”
With a chuckle, his father pulled him in for another hug. Danny wrapped his arms a
round his father’s waist, although he didn’t hold him tight for fear the guy still hurt from his beating.
As if sensing Danny’s reserve, Big John murmured, “It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s nothing but a bad memory.”
The reassurance gave Danny all the encouragement he needed to hold onto his father tightly and return the hug. They stood that way for a few seconds more before Danny pulled out of the embrace. He was surprised to see moisture in his father’s eyes.
“Aw, Dad, I’m okay, too,” he said in a low tone. “Master Paul took really good care of me, and I could have been back to work last Monday. I didn’t need so much time off.” With a blush, he ducked his head his head again. “He worries too much.”
“Master Graham is smart. I’m glad he made you stay home. You deserved the time off after, you know what you’d been through.”
Big John’s voice had become gruff. Danny did his best to avoid looking at him, embarrassed and not wanting to upset his father anyway. A thought occurred to him, something that would make both of them happy.
“Do you think we could get to go home this coming weekend? I’d like to see Mom.” He didn’t allow himself to analyze how he’d referred to the Tanner house. Home still meant where he’d grown up, where he’d find his mother waiting for him. He’d begun to think of Paul’s house as his home, as well, except he no longer felt certain that was the case.
Big John’s face spilt into a wide smile. “That’s a great idea. I’m sure Master Ben will give me leave to go. Will Master Graham do the same?”
“I’m certain of it. I’ll ask him tonight.”
He spoke the truth. Paul had spent the last ten days treating Danny like something fragile, hovering over him to make sure he rested and giving him everything he wanted, other than allowing him to do anything productive. Danny couldn’t imagine his master refusing to let Danny spend a couple of days with his mother. In fact, although it made his heart ache, he had no doubt the man would appreciate the break from caring for his damaged slave. Because Danny had gradually realized his master, his lover, saw him that way now—hurt, broken, spoiled even and not in the way of being pampered, but in the way of being contaminated. Apparently even a slave treated like a freeman could become undesirable after being used by someone else.
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