David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  Jackson shook his head. “And they won’t. Not that the cops here in town don’t care, because I think they do. There’s just so much more important crime for them to worry about. I don’t think a gay guy having his truck trashed rates very high on their list.”

  “Did they designate it a hate crime?”

  “Yeah. But it was property damage and not a physical assault, so it’s still pretty low on the priority list.”

  “Like my car window,” David mused.

  “Yeah, probably,” Jackson admitted, his voice soft.

  David bit his lip thoughtfully, cushioning his head with his free hand. “You know, Michael mentioned something to me earlier today and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

  Jackson mirrored his pose and tucked his hand under his head as well. “What’s that?”

  “Were the guys working on the roof today gay?”

  “One of them was. The other was his brother. Why?”

  “I just wondered something. Do you know framing and drywall guys that’re gay?”

  Jackson looked intrigued. “I probably know people in all phases of construction and remodeling that are gay, or related to someone who is. There aren’t that many of us, truthfully, and this isn’t that big a town. We toss one another work when we can.”

  David reached out, his fingers finding their way into Jackson’s chest hair seemingly of their own volition. The hair was silky, not wiry. It also gave David something to do with hands that were beginning to tremble with nervous anticipation. “Jackson, if you’re all gay, and we know that local construction on a whole isn’t good about hiring gay skilled labor, why not form your own company?”

  When Jackson didn’t immediately respond, David ventured a peek at his face.

  Jackson was looking at him with an unreadable expression. He studied David for the space of several heartbeats. “Like, a company where we’re all out?” he asked finally.

  “Maybe not just out. Maybe… even advertise that you’re out. Make the fact it’s a gay-friendly company a selling point.”

  One of Jackson’s brows arched. “You think that’s a plus?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jackson entered one of his long, thoughtful pauses, but he didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea, and that emboldened David to elaborate.

  “I know there’s an active gay community here in town. A pretty good-sized one, considering. And I know some of them have serious cash. I also know straight people who would hire an openly gay renovation company.”

  “There are also some who would find out we’re gay and fire us.”

  “But see, that’s the beauty of this idea. They’d know going in. Gil would never get fired again because of a bumper sticker. Neither would you.”

  “You don’t think we’d be painting a big target on our backs?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, yeah, there would be assholes. But there are always going to be assholes. And it might take a while for word of mouth to spread, but you’re awesome at what you do. So is Gil. And there’s Manny and the other guys doing the work on their own because major construction crews won’t hire them. What if you and Gil and Vern and the others concentrated on doing renovation as a team? Like the work being done here. You could advertise as the company to hire if you own a turn-of-the-century home in need of everything from minor repairs to major restoration. You could even advertise as a company that specializes in the work of Andrej Janic. How many of those houses are there?”

  “Thirty-six,” Jackson answered without hesitation. “Four that have already been renovated and six more that are currently in some phase of restoration. Including yours.”

  “See? You know that right off the top of your head. I’ll bet you’ve seen every one of them too, haven’t you?”

  Jackson shrugged one shoulder, then stopped and nodded.

  “Which means there are twenty-six that remain untouched. And even if they aren’t Janic’s, there are hundreds of old houses up here, just on this side of town. And the owners of those houses are people who can afford to update and restore. And that’s to say nothing of the parts of old town the city is trying to revitalize. I would think it would be something they’d be interested in, showing diversity with a company made up of LGBT people.”

  Jackson’s lips quirked. “Well, not so much on the L, the B, or the T.”

  “But if word got out there was a company like that hiring, there might be.”

  Jackson continued to watch him, but now David could see speculation in his eyes. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

  It was David’s turn to shrug now.

  “I think,” Jackson said slowly, “what would be an even bigger draw would be having an interior designer attached to this too. That way renovation jobs could be taken from start to finish, including decor.”

  David gave him a small smile. “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “Seriously?” Jackson looked surprised.

  “I’m not really happy where I am anymore. The business has changed. It’s more about how fast and cheap we can get it done rather than how well. I’d have to stay at it until we knew if this would work. We all would have to keep working. But I don’t know.” He looked down at Jackson’s clavicle, following the pattern of the dark chest hair over it with his finger. “I keep telling myself all of the reasons it’s a bad idea, and my mind keeps providing reasons it isn’t.”

  Jackson caught David’s hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed his lips against the bony knuckles. “It’s not a bad idea. I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t at least float the idea to the others.”

  The we made David’s toes curl in pleasure. He looked up with a smile. “Yeah?”

  “Why not? The worst they can do is say no.”

  David leaned his forehead against Jackson’s chin. “I’m just glad you don’t think it’s stupid.”

  Jackson ducked his head, his lips against David’s ear. “I don’t think it’s stupid. I’m not sure what the others will say, but I do not think it’s stupid.” Jackson caught his chin and lifted it, looking into his eyes. “Now I really don’t want to talk anymore.”

  David studied his calm features. “Are you tired?”

  Jackson chuckled, pressing forward with his hips. David had been so wrapped up in the conversation he hadn’t noticed that Jackson’s cock had thickened and lengthened and now pressed insistently against his thigh. “No, not really.”

  “Oh.” David gave him a knowing smile. “You’re not, huh?”

  “No, not really.”

  “So, um—” David leaned forward and nipped Jackson’s square jaw, and Jackson’s eyes darkened. “—what did you have in mind?”

  It was Jackson’s turn to nip, and he pulled David’s lower lip between his teeth before releasing it. “Well, if you’re not too sore, I’d really love another shot at this.” He reached around David, fingers sliding down the cleft of the object in question before skimming over his hole.

  David shuddered. “I’m not too sore.”

  Jackson’s slow smile was wicked, and that was all it took for blood to rush straight to David’s cock.

  “That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”

  David laughed. “You’re easily pleased.”

  Jackson’s smile settled, mellowed. “Actually, I’m not.” He wrapped his arm around David’s waist, pulling him in until he was flush against his body. “I’m very particular about where I put my dick. And we’re going to work on you being able to accept a compliment graciously.”

  “We are?” David had pretty much lost the thread of the conversation when he felt all the warm, bronzed skin against his. He looked up into Jackson’s eyes, gleaming with suppressed amusement.

  “We are. But not right now.”

  “Oh good.” David angled his head and kissed him, then licked Jackson’s lower lip. “Because I pretty much checked out when you said you wanted to fuck me again.”

  “Yeah,
I know.” Jackson leaned forward, his mouth opening on the same sensitive patch of throat he’d latched on to earlier. It was very vulnerable now, and his ramped-up arousal made David breathless as he rocked his pelvis forward. He gripped Jackson’s bicep, fingers digging in.

  “Can we stop talking now?” David whispered.

  Jackson chuckled, and the sound went straight to David’s spine, zinging down into his tailbone before leaving a sizzle behind in his ass.

  “Absolutely.” Jackson kissed David and rolled him to his back, pinning him beneath his weight.

  David made a needy noise in the back of his throat, wrapped his long legs around Jackson’s waist, and opened his mouth to the renewed sensual assault of Jackson’s kisses.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DAVID WAS deeply asleep when he was jerked abruptly awake. Panic roared through him when he realized a hand was pressed over his mouth. He gripped the hard arm attached to it, heart pounding as he tried to roll away.

  “Baby, stop.” Jackson’s voice cut through the fear, and David stilled when he realized it was Jackson’s hand. “There’s someone in the house.”

  David blinked, sitting up as Jackson pushed off the bed. Moonlight shining through the window revealed a blurry image of Jackson yanking on his jeans, and David fumbled on the nightstand and found his glasses. He pushed them onto his face.

  “What did you hear?” he asked as Jackson came into focus.

  “Shh,” Jackson urged, holding his hand up.

  A muted thud came from the back of the house and then the sound of a dog growling. It sounded like Boots was right on the other side of the door. They froze and stared at each other, and then Jackson crossed on silent feet to carefully ease open the bottom drawer of the dresser.

  “Call 911,” he said.

  David heard a couple of soft metallic clicks, and then Jackson was standing with the gun in his hand. David had all but forgotten about the pistol, and he stared at it in alarm.

  “Jackson,” he whispered, not wanting him to leave the room. He’d called a home security company that morning, but the first available appointment was Tuesday. Now there was an intruder in his house, but if there was a threat out there, he didn’t want Jackson confronting it alone. Even with the gun.

  There was another, louder sound from the kitchen, and fear washed over him. Boots growled again, the sound low. It sent a chill down David’s spine.

  “Jackson, please. I’ll call the police, and we’ll let them….”

  The hardwood floor somewhere in the house creaked, and David’s voice died in his throat. Boots’s growl grew in volume, and fear for him made David feel cold.

  “Boots, Jackson,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Jackson said, his voice hushed and his hand on the doorknob. “Nine one one. Now. Please.”

  With trembling hands, David grabbed his cell phone from its charger and punched in the numbers. His eyes never left Jackson as he stood next to the door, hand on the knob, his head angled to one side as he listened. There was another sharp pop of the old floors from either the living room or dining room, he couldn’t be sure.

  Boots whined, and it sounded like he was scratching at the bedroom door.

  “Nine one one, what is your emergency?”

  The voice in his ear startled David and he jumped. “There’s someone in my house,” he said, pressing his hand over where his heart was galloping in his chest, keeping his voice pitched low.

  “There’s an intruder in your house?”

  A loud thud made the floor in the bedroom vibrate. Boots finally began to bark and it sounded like he ran down the hall. Jackson turned the doorknob.

  “Jackson, please wait. Please.”

  “Sir? Did you say there’s an intruder in your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the address?”

  David gave it to her, his eyes beseeching Jackson to stay where it was safe. Boots sounded ferocious and far bigger than he was, and David held the faint hope he’d scare whoever was out there into leaving the house.

  Then Boots yelped and fell silent.

  “Oh God,” David gasped, so afraid for the little dog tears stung his eyes.

  “Sir, are you all right? Sir?”

  Jackson rushed out of the bedroom, and David struggled to his feet, yanking the top sheet off the bed.

  “Yes, I’m okay. But I have to hang up. My neighbor’s dog… my boyfriend….” He didn’t even care that he wasn’t making sense. He wrapped the sheet around his waist, unwilling to take time to try to untangle his jeans from his underwear with the phone in his hand.

  Jackson was already out of sight, and fear shot through David when he heard him shout “Don’t move!” and then heard a man’s garbled cry and a thud.

  “Oh my God!” David rushed out of the bedroom, trying not to trip on the trailing bottom of the sheet.

  “Sir, sir? Don’t hang up the phone. Stay with me until the police arrive.”

  “I can’t. I have to go.”

  “Sir, don’t hang up!”

  David struggled down the hall, the sheet threatening to trip him at every step.

  When he arrived at the doorway between the dining room and the hall, he saw shadowed figures struggling on the floor in the darkness of his living room and heard Boots snarling. Grabbing the sheet tighter around him, he tossed his phone onto the dining room table and felt across the top for something, anything he could use as a weapon. For a moment he panicked, feeling only the smooth surface of the wood, but then his fingers encountered something thick and cool and heavy—the bowl he’d used for the Halloween candy. He grabbed it up and lurched into the living room.

  There was enough moonlight streaming through the front window that he could see two men struggling on the floor. He realized with a jolt of fear that Jackson was on his back as the other man straddled him, and they were both fighting for possession of the gun. A dark ski mask covered the intruder’s head, but there was enough light for David to aim, and he reared back and swung the bowl as hard as he could, slamming it into the side of the intruder’s head. It exploded with a crash as the bowl shattered, small pieces flying everywhere, and the man stiffened for a moment, then fell to his side on the floor. Jackson shoved out from under him, pushing to his feet and pointing the gun at what David hoped was the unconscious man.

  “Did you get 911 on the phone?” Jackson asked, his voice surprisingly steady.

  “Oh!” David lurched back into the dining room, pausing to turn on the lights, and rescued his phone from the tabletop.

  “Sir? Sir, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” David said breathlessly.

  “Is everyone all right?”

  David looked back into the living room. Jackson was standing over the intruder, his gun pointed down at him, his bare broad shoulders gleaming slightly in the light. Pieces of white ceramic littered the room, chips of it clinging to the shoulders of the intruder’s black sweater and scattered on the floor around his head. There were also slivers on the ski mask, and snack-size candy bars were everywhere. David hadn’t even noticed there was still candy in the bowl when he picked it up.

  Boots, he saw with relief, was clinging to the man’s ankle by his teeth, snarling and shaking his head, apparently none the worse for whatever had made him yelp.

  “We got him,” he said breathlessly into the phone. “I hit him with a bowl and my boyfriend has a gun, and—”

  “Who has a gun?” the operator asked in alarm.

  “My boyfriend. The intruder is—” David took a step or two closer. “—I think he’s unconscious. Oh, and my neighbor’s dog bit him.” They heard the sound of screeching brakes outside and blue and red rotating lights splashed across the living room blinds. “The police just got here.”

  “Be sure before opening your door.”

  He almost said he didn’t know anyone else with a rotating light on their car but thought that was probably hysteria talking. A heavy knock sounded on the door and
he started to cross into the living room.

  “Stay there! Don’t come back in here,” Jackson said. “There are pieces of that bowl everywhere, and you’re barefooted.”

  “So are you,” David replied.

  “I’m already closer to the door.” Jackson backed up, slid something out of the grip of his gun, and put both pieces on the small table next to the front door. He looked through the small windows in the door before he unlocked it.

  “Someone called about an intruder?”

  Jackson backed up, gesturing to the man in the ski mask lying on the floor. The first officer slipped his gun from its holster and stepped into the room. Boots was still snarling and shaking his head, his mouth around the unconscious man’s ankle. The cop looked at him, then at Jackson.

  “Can you call off the dog, please?”

  “Boots, come here, boy,” David said, patting his leg.

  Boots looked up at him, and then with every appearance of reluctance, released the man’s ankle. The dog went over to David, and David was alarmed when the stocky little guy limped. Boots sat at David’s feet with a huff.

  The police officer approached the man on the floor cautiously, his gun trained on him. He looked from Jackson to David. “What did you hit him with?”

  “A ten-pound ceramic bowl,” David answered. “Full of candy.”

  “I see that,” the cop said, sounding faintly amused. He bent and snagged the ski mask and pulled it off the motionless man’s head.

  David gaped and felt the blood drain from his face, but why he was surprised, he couldn’t say.

  Trevor’s head lolled to one side.

  The second cop stopped just inside the door. “He looks like you hit him pretty hard.”

  The first officer, whose tag read Hernandez, checked for a pulse just under Trevor’s chin. They all waited silently. When the officer pulled his hand back and holstered his gun, David felt a moment of alarm.

  “He isn’t dead, is he?”

  Hernandez looked up at him. “No, his pulse is strong.” He pushed back the long hair that had spilled over Trevor’s forehead. “But he’s got a hell of a bump coming up.”