Even from where he stood, David could see the bruising lump rising on his temple, and he grimaced.
The second officer, named Johnson, leaned forward, studying Trevor’s forehead. “We’ll call for transport?”
“Yeah. That’s a pretty good goose egg.” Officer Hernandez rolled Trevor’s limp body over, pulled out his handcuffs, and secured his arms behind his back. He stood. “I’ll go radio for an ambulance and alert the scene investigation unit.”
Johnson agreed, and Hernandez walked out the front door.
Officer Johnson glanced over at David, then returned his attention to Trevor. “Do either of you know him?”
David stepped closer. “He and I used to live together. His name is Trevor Blankenship.”
“Okay.” Johnson slipped a small tablet from the breast pocket of his black uniform shirt. “Can you spell that for me, please?” He pulled a pen from his pocket as well. David spelled Trevor’s name. “And who is the owner of the house?”
“Me. I mean, I am.”
“And your name?” He gave it to him and spelled it. “Any idea why he’d be breaking into your house in a ski mask, Mr. Snyder?”
David tried to think of a brief answer and couldn’t. “It’s kind of a long story.”
Johnson nodded. “Well, why don’t you get dressed and then you can tell me.”
David felt heat wash up his neck from his chest when he was reminded he was standing there in nothing more than a sheet. He nodded gratefully. “That would probably be good.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WHEN MICHAEL arrived not long after the paramedics, David had been perplexed by his presence. That was until Michael whispered that Jackson had called him, saying he thought David could use his best friend.
David had been hanging on to his composure by a thread at that point, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture sent his emotions spiraling. He’d begun to shake, and tears filled his eyes. Michael took him back to his bedroom while Jackson dealt with the police. Michael wrapped him in his arms and held him, letting the shakes and the tears play out until David felt composed enough to come back out and make his statement to the police. Now they sat side by side on the porch steps, watching as the paramedics loaded Trevor into the back of the ambulance.
He was handcuffed to the gurney but still managed to put on quite a show of being injured, moaning about his head and his leg. They hadn’t noticed until after the paramedics arrived, but Boots managed to chew on more than his pant leg. Trevor’s ankle had several neat round puncture holes ringing it. They’d also discovered that Trevor’s blood alcohol was three times the legal limit, which might have explained why he stayed unconscious for as long as he did. It wouldn’t help him dodge the breaking-and-entering charge.
“You okay?” Michael asked David, bumping his shoulder.
“Yeah.” He smoothed his hand gently over the sleek sable fur on Boots’s side and the dog laid his head on David’s thigh. “I want them to leave so I can take Boots to the emergency vet.”
“They should probably X-ray him to make sure nothing is broken.” He leaned forward and reached across David, scratching the little dog’s head. “You’re such a good boy,” he said when Boots licked his hand. “Biting the bad man’s leg. Too bad you weren’t a little bit taller and right at crotch level.”
David gave Michael a wry look but couldn’t hold on to it.
“Are they going to give Jackson back his gun?”
They looked to where Jackson stood next to a patrol car, talking to Detective Mitchell. He’d arrived not long after the uniformed officers.
When the first responders saw the gun and clip sitting on the small table next to the door, they had thought it belonged to Trevor and seized it as evidence. Even with Jackson providing them his registration and the gun’s serial number, it could be a day or two before they returned the weapon. They’d bagged up the shards of ceramic and the crowbar Trevor used to break in through the back door, and the ski mask he’d had on his head.
Michael linked his hands around his skinny knees, leaning forward and watching Jackson.
“So.”
David glanced over at him. “So?”
“So.” Michael rocked slightly forward and back. “I gather Jackson is a spectacular fuck.”
“Michael!” David smacked him on his arm.
“Hey, you can’t blame me. I’m just observant.”
“What could you possibly have observed that gives you that impression?”
“Well,” Michael said slowly. “I mean, exhibit A: look at the man.” He gestured, and David looked. Jackson was standing in the driveway talking to the detective. His hair was mussed and his shirt was half-unbuttoned, hanging over his hips and out from under his jacket. Actually he looked like he’d just climbed out of bed, which was nothing but the truth. “Any man who looks so pleasantly rumpled but so supremely self-satisfied must have had a lovely fuck.” David huffed in exasperation. “Also you sat down on this step pretty gingerly, my friend.”
“Oh God.” David buried his face in the crook of his arm. “No one should know that much about their friend’s sex life. I may spontaneously combust.”
Michael poked him in the ribs and David batted at his hand. “So come on, spill. He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
David looked into his avid eyes, a grin pulling at his lips. “He was, in fact, spectacular. Twice.”
Michael crowed, “You hussy.”
David rolled his eyes, then leaned forward and buried his face in Boots’s fur. “Oh, shut up.”
“Why? I’m just teasing.”
David rolled his head and peeked at Michael, who was grinning.
“Actually I’m incredibly jealous,” his best friend went on. “I mean, how often is it that the performance lives up to the wrapping, particularly when the wrapping looks like that?”
It didn’t seem to matter what Jackson did, or how rumpled he was; he was gorgeous. He glanced over at David and winked, and David sighed before he could stop himself.
Michael snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
David thought about retorting, then decided he really didn’t care if Michael thought he was absurd or not. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, when compared to that—” He gestured toward Trevor, who was still moaning and groaning in the back of the ambulance. “—this time you hit the lotto.”
Trevor’s pale face was lit by the interior lights of the ambulance, and they could hear the petulant, almost cranky sound of his voice. “What could he possibly have been thinking,” Michael went on, “breaking into the house like that?”
“I have no idea. He’ll say he was drunk, like that’s an excuse. I’m just glad Jackson had a gun.”
“Why?” Michael gave him a half smile. “You didn’t need a gun. You half brained him with a candy bowl.”
David sat a bit taller. “I wasn’t going to let him hurt the dog.”
Michael laid his head on David’s shoulder. “I love that you were protecting him.”
“We’re buddies.” David smoothed his palm over the little dog again. “Aren’t we, boy?” This time Boots climbed into David’s lap, and David laughed softly as Michael ran his long, thin fingers over Boots’s head.
One of the ambulance attendants slammed the back doors before going around to the driver’s side, and moments later it pulled out of the driveway without the lights or siren. Trevor might be bitching a blue streak, but the attendants had assured David they didn’t think he was badly hurt. Jackson laughed at something the detective muttered under his breath.
David’s throat felt full and he forced down a swallow. When he spoke his voice sounded tight. “I’m in love with him.”
Michael straightened, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Pretty sure, yeah.”
Michael caught David’s hand, linking their fingers, squeezing. “Does it feel… different?”
David knew what he was asking. “So different.
Like… I’d say night and day, but it’s bigger than that, more profound than that. What I felt for Trevor doesn’t hold a candle to this.” He released a shaky sigh. “It scares the crap out of me.”
Risking his heart again, so soon after Trevor, was probably foolish. But he couldn’t help it; it was already done.
Michael squeezed his hand. “It’ll be okay.”
David stared into Michael’s eyes. “You can’t promise that.”
“Yes, I can.” Michael gave him a small smile. “I believe it.”
Jackson and Detective Mitchell started for the porch, and Michael slipped his hand from David’s, returning it to Boots’s head.
“Mr. Snyder, please make sure your attorney gets that restraining order,” Mitchell said. “They’re taking Blankenship to the ER to have his head checked, and then transporting him to the county lockup. He probably won’t be arraigned until Monday at the earliest, and then he won’t be released unless he can afford bail. But don’t take any chances, particularly not with him already threatening you. I’m not sure how stable the guy is.”
“I already talked to my lawyer,” David said. He’d called Karen once Trevor was safely in custody, and she promised to file the restraining order first thing Monday morning.
“Good. All right, I’ll be in touch.”
He shook each of their hands, then made his way to the dark sedan parked out front.
Jackson stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, looking down at them. “Well, this has been an eventful evening.”
“It’s not over yet.” David lifted Boots gently from his lap and stood up. “I want to take Boots into the emergency vet to make sure nothing’s broken.”
“Okay. I’ll drive.”
David gave him a wry look. “I love him, but we aren’t taking the dog to the vet in your mother’s Mercedes. We can take my car. I don’t have leather upholstery.”
“I’ll get the leash and your keys,” Michael said as he stood.
Jackson looked between them. “Are we all going?”
“Of course,” Michael answered. “It’s after 2:00 a.m. What else would we do?” He went into the house, and Boots followed him, limping slightly.
David started to follow when Jackson caught his hand, pulling him back. He was standing on the bottom step, which put him about six inches below David’s head. He looked up at him.
“We haven’t had a second to talk. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You had a few rough minutes.”
David closed his eyes, exhaling softly. “Yeah, I did.”
Jackson’s eyes searched David’s face. “I thought, it being your ex, this might be hard for you.”
David gave him a grim smile. “What was hard for me was that I only got to swing that bowl at his damned head once.”
Jackson squeezed his hand. “Really. Are you okay?”
David let the smile fall away. “Yes, really. I’m all right. I’m grateful if he has a gun he chose not to bring it with him.” He shuddered, releasing Jackson’s hand and wrapping his arms around himself, more than the cold making him shiver. “This could have been so much worse, Jackson. So much worse.”
Jackson caught his wrist and David allowed himself to be pulled off the step and into his arms. Jackson held on tight, and gradually the cold David had felt slipped away. He encircled Jackson’s waist with his arms, laying his head on his shoulder.
Jackson kissed the back of David’s head. “I’m glad he can’t hurt you.”
“Me too.”
“God, David…. Once he’s out of jail, how am I supposed to sleep at night if you’re here alone?”
“The alarm is being installed on Tuesday.”
“Good. That’s good.” Jackson squeezed him again. “Maybe you need a dog too.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Jackson was silent, his mouth still pressed to David’s head. David felt the hot, moist breath through his hair, and he felt the shudder that moved through Jackson’s arms.
David lifted his head, startled to see Jackson’s eyes bright with tears. “Jackson?”
Jackson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he blinked quickly. He released David but cupped his face. “Nothing can happen to you, David,” he said finally. “Nothing.”
David curled his fingers around Jackson’s wrists. “I’m okay, Jackson. And I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
“Good. I’m going to hold you to that. Because if anything happened to you…. I don’t even want to think about it.” He looked haggard and frightened, and David believed him.
“Hush.” David put his fingers over Jackson’s lips. “I’m fine. And I’m going to stay fine. I promise.”
Jackson gave him a weak smile, then pulled him in and kissed him.
“Oh my God.” Michael came out of the house with Boots on his leash beside him. “Will you queers quit making out in the front yard so we can take this dog to the vet?”
David pulled back and shot Michael a baleful look over his shoulder, but Michael smiled brightly after he’d locked the front door.
“I’ll pull the Mercedes out.”
“Bring it back in once I’ve backed out,” David said quickly. “Park it in the garage. I would hate for anything to happen to it.”
“Okay.”
Jackson gave David another fleeting kiss, then jogged toward the expensive coupe.
Michael picked Boots up with a soft grunt, carrying him as he fell into step with David. They walked to the garage, and Michael climbed in the back with Boots, then reached forward between the bucket seats and gripped David’s shoulder.
“I told you.”
“You told me what?” David deflected, but he knew what Michael was going to say and the thought of it made his pulse jump.
“I told you it would be okay.” Michael squeezed his shoulder, leaning close. “He’s as much in love with you as you are with him. So relax.”
David took a deep breath as he backed his car out of the driveway. “Michael, someday, when you fall desperately head over heels in love, I’m going to tell you what you told me. And we’ll see how good you are at ‘relaxing.’”
Michael laughed as he settled into the backseat, Boots immediately climbing over his lap. “Never going to happen.”
David waited for Jackson to jog back to the car, smiling slightly as he looked at his friend in the rearview mirror. “Famous last words.”
“You can take them to the bank. I don’t do love.”
Jackson climbed in the passenger seat, and David headed off for the vet. Jackson caught his hand and linked their fingers.
“God, could you two knock it off?” Michael teased. “There’s an impressionable dog present.”
Jackson laughed, and David made a mental note to remember what Michael had said about love.
Because someday he would fall too. And payback was a bitch.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DAVID WAS nervous. Philosophically he knew he had no reason to be, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach or the faint tremor in his hands as he meticulously layered cheese and deli meats on the large tray. Why he was so insistent on everything being perfect, he couldn’t have explained if he had to. He just knew that for tonight, it was important that everything be as seamless as he could make it.
It had been a momentous six weeks since the night Trevor broke into his house. First there were the charges filed against him: first-degree burglary, because the crowbar he’d carried to break in was considered a weapon. In the state of Washington, the sentence could be lengthy prison time and a fine up to fifty thousand dollars. Trevor told his attorney all he’d wanted was to talk to David, but that didn’t really explain his forcibly breaking through the back door. In addition, Karen wanted a menacing charge added for the office break-in, the phone calls, and the number of threatening texts. Had he been convicted of those charges, it could have added an additional twenty-four months to his sentence.
Initially Jackson, Michael, and even his mother had wanted David to press charges and shoot for the maximum sentence. And at first, David considered it. But then he went and sat down with Karen, and after that he wasn’t so sure anymore.
“What happens to him if I press charges and he’s convicted?” he had asked her.
She linked her fingers on her desk. “He’ll go to prison. And I don’t mean the county jail. I mean prison. He might get time off for good behavior, but he’ll serve at least half of the sentence. When he gets out, he’ll be on probation, probably for another year. As a convicted felon, he’ll have a hell of a time getting a job. He won’t be able to serve on a jury, which frankly is no great loss, but he won’t have the right to own a firearm. Or to vote.”
David looked at his hands in his lap. Is that what he wanted to do? Send Trevor to prison? Yes, he’d broken into his house, and yes, he made threatening statements on the phone. But it could also take up to two years to come to trial, which meant this thing would be hanging over his head, like a dark cloud over what could be the best time in his life. Did he want that?
“Are you having second thoughts?”
David bit his lip. At that point, Trevor had been out of jail for two weeks and David hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“Do we have options besides a trial?”
“Sure,” she answered. “We can always suggest a deal to the Assistant District Attorney in place of pressing charges.”
“A deal?”
She nodded. “We can request supervised probation, with attached terms and conditions. There’s no guarantee the ADA will accept the suggestions, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”
“What terms and suggestions do you think are appropriate?”
She leaned back in her chair, rocking slightly. “Well, I’d certainly keep the restraining order and make zero contact a term. At this point you might also stipulate the jointly owned property be sold. That way the two of you don’t have to have anything to do with each other, but Trevor doesn’t come out of it with nothing, which might mollify him a bit. I have to say, his attorney did tell me he didn’t do very well during the two days he was at county. He said something to another prisoner and got punched in the mouth for his trouble. He ended up back in the ER before he’d been in custody four hours. I doubt we’re going to have a hard time selling him on this, if it’s the way you want to go.” She gave him a level stare. “Actually it’s entirely up to you and what you want.”
David, Renewed Page 23
