Spencer recognized Cade’s voice. “Spencer’s medical report states that the doctors were concerned with his deepening depression they attributed to the loss of his eye. They also suspected he had an adverse reaction to some of the pain medication he was on. Spencer was scheduled to have a series of tests on the day he went missing. When the ambulance brought him in after being rescued, they ran a drug panel on his blood. It showed evidence of a multitude of narcotics and muscle relaxants that they hadn’t prescribed.”
Spencer turned his head back toward Cade. He hadn’t heard this before.
Cade continued, “By the state of Spencer’s skin, hair, and the high numbers the drugs hit on the charts, they feel Butler was slipping Spencer the drugs while he was still in the hospital.”
“That would account for Spencer’s detached attitude getting worse in the hospital and at Butler’s house,” Shane said.
Spencer thought about Cade’s and Shane’s revelations. They did make sense. It was something he was going to think about. But first he needed to get Rescue for Hire out of the line of fire and end this interview.
“Investigator Smitton,” he said, making sure he had the man’s attention. “The day before, and on the morning of the day I was brought back to the hospital, I threw up all food that I consumed. I had been feeling more ill every day and suspected something was wrong with my internal organs. By lunch, for the first time in many weeks, my mind was a little clearer. When I started asking Terry questions and began making comments about stuff around me, he made a big deal of refreshing my milk. Now that I’m looking back at the situation, I remember the milk tasted funny, and by the end of the meal, my mind and body were going numb.”
Spencer glanced at Ruger. He didn’t want to say what happened next in front of him, but knew he had to.
“Terry carried me into the den after the meal and proceeded to molest me. He touched my cock and testicles for his own pleasure. I told him to stop, and he refused. At that point, I was having trouble making my arms and legs move. I began to yell at him, begging him to stop and called out for help. That was when the team from Rescue for Hire broke into the house and rescued me. I believe, if they hadn’t, Terry would have raped me.”
During Spencer’s statement, emotion had drained from the investigator’s face. Spencer knew the man didn’t like it that he had just cleared Rescue for Hire of all charges. Now a hint of anger flared deep in the investigator’s eyes before he asked, “Mr. Ryland, did you know Rescue for Hire was there? Is that why you called out for help?”
“I didn’t know the team was there. I was hoping the person upstairs would help me,” Spencer answered.
The room went silent for a long moment. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Spencer was confused why everyone was reacting this way.
“What person upstairs?” the investigator asked.
“I don’t know who it was, but I kept hearing someone walking around up there and I think I remember Terry talking to someone,” Spencer answered.
Everyone in the room spoke at once. Questions, comments, and speculation circled around until Spencer’s head throbbed. It became apparent to Spencer that nobody knew about the person upstairs. Finally the investigator stood up, gaining everyone’s attention.
“Are you sure there was another person in that house besides you and Mr. Butler?” Smitton asked. “Is it possible that the medication you were taking caused you to become confused and you thought you heard something?”
“I suppose anything’s possible,” Spencer answered. “But I believe I heard someone walking around upstairs multiple times. And I heard Terry talking to someone.”
“Did you ask Mr. Butler about this person?” the investigator asked.
“No.”
“Why?” The man persisted.
Spencer’s temper flared. The man wanted to know why? He would tell him why.
“Investigator Smitton,” Spencer began. “I could not see. At times pressure squeezed my guts until I thought my stomach was going to explode. More days than not, pain wracked my body and head while the shakes ripped through me.” Spencer took a deep breath and continued. “The only time I felt any relief was when the medication Terry gave me kicked in. During those times, Terry would hold me in his arms. I thought he was comforting me, and for a little while I didn’t feel abandoned and lonely. To be honest, Investigator Smitton, I did not care who else was in that house.”
The investigators eyes widened, but he didn’t comment. He looked down at his notes, before clearing his throat. “You can be sure we’ll be looking into this other person, Mr. Ryland.”
After a few more questions, the investigator walked to the door before pausing.
Rick Smitton faced the room and said, “Although Mr. Ryland’s statement did shed more light on the situation, I don’t agree with you people undermining police business as you did in this case. You should have presented your findings to us, and we could have lawfully rescued Mr. Ryland. That being said, Mr. Ryland, I’m glad you are doing well. I’m not sure if you are aware that Terrance Butler made bail this morning. Now that you were well enough to make a statement, hopefully, he’ll be back in jail soon. Until then, take care, Mr. Ryland.”
With those parting words, the investigator left. Ruger stood and came over to the bed. Spencer moved over and made room. He liked it that Ruger climbed up and strong arms pulled him into a warm, hard chest. Laying his head against Ruger’s shoulder and breathing in the essence of Old Spice, Spencer listened to the others speculate on how the interview went and the mysterious person upstairs.
“I checked the entire house. There were a lot of rooms, and it was obvious someone slept upstairs. I just thought it was Terry,” Shane commented.
“Terry slept in the bed I slept in downstairs. He said he wanted to be close in case I needed him,” Spencer explained.
“We need to keep an eye out,” Cade said. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Terry Butler.”
As the conversation continued, Spencer closed his eye and let himself sink into the warmth and safety of Ruger’s arms. And the scent of Old Spice.
* * * *
Ruger sat in the corner and watched the nurse take Spencer’s blood pressure and temperature before handing him a small pill cup. After Spencer had taken the medication, she asked him if he needed anything else. After he had assured her everything was fine, she finally left.
Spencer turned a wide smile his way. “So we’re partners, and you’re my bodyguard?”
“Yep,” Ruger stated.
Spencer had been through so much in the last few months. His curly blond hair was bedraggled, his face was pale, and he was way too thin. But with that sparkle of mischief in his green eye and that straight white smile, Ruger found him irresistible.
“But we haven’t gone out on a date or kissed. How can we be partners?”
That big green eye widened when Ruger stalked toward him, shoving his toothpick into his pocket. Ruger didn’t stop until he was on the bed, bracing himself on his hands and knees over Spencer’s prone body.
The gleam in Spencer’s eye and the tongue brushing over pink lips told Ruger his actions were wanted. Leaning down, he took his first taste of Spencer’s lips. Ten years ago, this had been wrong. Now it was nothing but right.
Ruger lowered his body to the side of Spencer’s and steadied his upper body on his elbows. He held Spencer’s head between his hands and deepened the kiss. Sliding his tongue between Spencer’s lips, he tasted every nook and cranny, until he pulled the captivating man’s tongue into his mouth and started sucking on it. Spencer’s taste had his dick filling and a shiver running down his spine.
Spencer’s whimpers and hums inflamed Ruger’s desire. Lifting his head, he looked down at the smaller man. “We have to stop. You need to sleep and heal so we can go home.”
“Are you always going to stop when it starts getting good?” Spencer’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout.
Ruger ran his tongue over the pink soft skin b
efore sucking the plump lip into his mouth enjoying the hell out of Spencer’s taste. He forced himself to release the tasty morsel before his cock overruled his brain. “No. But first you need to be well enough to go home,” he answered.
“I wonder if I still have an apartment and if my things are still there? I’m thinking the utility company isn’t too happy with me about now,” Spencer said. Behind his smile, there was worry.
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll be living with me,” Ruger said.
“Wait a minute. Sharing one kiss doesn’t mean we’re going to jump into living together.” Spencer put his hand flat against Ruger’s chest.
Ruger enclosed Spencer’s hand in his and kissed it. “Terry is out of jail. I won’t leave you alone. Now get some sleep.” Ruger flipped them over until he was on his back and enfolded Spencer against his chest.
Spencer snuggled in where he belonged before murmuring, “You aren’t always going to get your way.”
Soon Ruger heard Spencer’s breathing even out. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Terry putting his hands on Spencer. Less than a year ago, Ruger would have ended a person for doing what Terry had done. He may have gotten out of the military, but now he wondered if anything had really changed. Would he always be a cold-blooded killer? He shuddered at the thought of adding to the guilty nightmares that already haunted him.
* * * *
Solemn black eyes highlighted by thick slashing eyebrows peered at Spencer from the rearview mirror of an F-150 4x4. He was currently surrounded by pillows and blankets in the back seat of the truck after enduring the flight lying on a thick mattress in Rescue for Hire’s private plane.
“Tell me again where you are taking me,” Spencer called from the ocean of softness.
“Cade has a house that we can live in near Treble and Damian’s place. We should be there in another minute,” Ruger said.
“What about my apartment?” Spencer knew the answers to his questions already. During breakfast that morning, Ruger had explained the plans Rescue for Hire had come up with. Spencer wasn’t stupid, but the way this group of men moved and took over was mind boggling. It didn’t help that sometimes his mind became a little burry. Apparently, all the drugs he had taken would be messing with his mind for some time. So far Ruger had been patient and understood when Spencer needed him to repeat things.
“Two days ago half the team flew home to pack up your apartment and get the new place ready for us.” Ruger clicked on the turn signal before maneuvering the truck into a driveway that cut through a thick grove of trees.
A dark gray house appeared. It had a sloping roof broken up by two windowed dormers. Red and gray stone decorated the bottom of the house about three feet high. A porch ran along the side of the house extending from the slope of the roof. In an instance, Spencer fell in love.
Ruger parked the truck in front of a detached three-car garage. There were three black wooden silhouettes of geese flying across the front of the garage near the roof.
Spencer ignored the slicing burn crossing his belly and struggled to sit up. Looking out the side window, he felt his heart plunge to his toes. Ruger opened the door next to his feet and frowned when he looked at Spencer.
“What’s the matter?”
“I can’t make it up those steps. There’s no way.” Spencer wanted to hit something. He was so sick of being helpless.
Gentle hands pulled Spencer to the edge of the seat so that his legs hung out the door. Ruger lifted Spencer into his arms. “That’s no problem. I’ll carry you.”
Spencer grabbed Ruger’s T-shirt. “Stop. At least let me walk to the steps.”
“Spencer, you’re so exhausted from the trip that you are already shaking. Let’s get you inside so you can rest awhile. Then I’ll get out that fancy walker the doctors gave you so you can walk around.”
By now Ruger had climbed the five steps to the porch and stood before the fully paned glass screen door. Ruger opened the screen door to a blue door with a beautiful stained glass window in it.
“You could set me down, and I could walk into the house,” Spencer suggested.
“No, it’s tradition to carry the bride over the threshold,” Ruger answered.
“I’m not a bride,” Spencer snapped.
“Calm down. I was only kidding.”
“You don’t kid,” Spencer replied.
“Hmph.”
Ruger opened the door and carried Spencer into a small entryway. He didn’t pause, and Spencer caught only a glimpse of a large kitchen with golden wooden cabinets and a dining room that opened up into a huge living room with a cathedral ceiling and walls of windows.
“Aren’t you going to show me around?” Spencer asked.
“No,” Ruger replied.
Ruger turned down a small hallway off the dining room, and entered a bedroom. He held Spencer with one arm while he pushed the bed covers back with the other. Sometimes Ruger astounded him. Spencer might be thin, but he was a good five-nine, maybe five-ten if he stretched a bit. And yet Ruger handled him as if he didn’t weigh more than a small child.
Ruger placed Spencer on the bed and followed him down until their lips were inches apart. “There will be time for you to explore after you have a nap. I’ll go see if there is any food in the refrigerator.”
“Can you cook?” Spencer asked.
“I make a mean microwave Hot Pocket,” Ruger answered.
Spencer liked this side of Ruger. He had a feeling not many people saw it.
“I guess that’s something we both will have to work on,” he said.
Ruger’s lips touched his. Spencer opened his mouth and let Ruger deepen the kiss. Shivers of desire wove their way over Spencer’s skin when Ruger sucked at his mouth while his tongue pressed inside.
He lifted his hands and ran his palms over Ruger’s hard chest muscles. Spencer wished the material of the T-shirt wasn’t between him and the skin he longed to explore. The pad of his finger encountered the hard nub of Ruger’s nipple. Delighted, Spencer rubbed it before tweaking it between two fingers.
Ruger broke the kiss with a wet pop.
“Don’t stop,” Spencer pleaded.
Ruger’s dark eyes were blazing with need as they looked down at Spencer. “Get some sleep.”
“You expect me to sleep after that kiss?” Spencer decided the guy must be nuts.
“Do you want me to quit kissing you?” Ruger asked.
“No.”
“Then get some sleep.”
The gentle way Ruger shifted onto the bed and fit Spencer against his side belied his gruff tone. The man fascinated Spencer.
Three nights later, Spencer discovered a darker side of Ruger.
Chapter Eight
Spencer lurched up to a sitting position. His mind reeled trying to sift through the thick fog of sleep. Even shallow breaths calmed the protesting pain in his belly. Glancing around, he saw only a pale shaft of moonlight cut through the pitch-black darkness of the room.
Spencer groped through the covers and found Ruger’s side cold. The man insisted on sleeping in the same bed, but to Spencer’s irritation, wouldn’t go any further physically than kisses.
His attention snapped to a sharp crack before a muffled thump came from outside the window. Seconds later there was another thump. The sounds fell into a steady rhythm.
Cool air wafted over his legs as he pushed the covers off and shifted until they were hanging off the side of the antique brass bed. He hated hurting every time he moved. At least it wasn’t as severe, and he no longer felt as though he was going to puke his sorry guts out when the pain became too much. And it was getting better every day.
Spencer reached out his hand until it connected with the black rubber handgrip of the embarrassing old person’s red walker. It had wheels on the back legs, bright lime green tennis balls attached to the ends of the front legs, and a wire basket on the front. Spencer couldn't figure out why it had hand breaks, but he used them every time he stopped, just because h
e could.
It took a few groans and a small whimper, but Spencer pushed his hunched-over body to slowly make its way out of the carpeted bedroom and over the hardwood floors of the dining and living rooms.
At the patio doors, he paused. The sliding door was open a few inches. Spencer recognized the clear crack of wood splitting under the sharp edge of an ax.
Now Spencer had a problem. He would have to maneuver down one small step out of the house to the attached deck if he wanted to go outside. The doctors had been adamant that steps were off limits until his appointment next week. Ruger threatened Spencer with all kinds of things that would be fun, had they been sexual, if he attempted to use the five front or back door steps. Spencer conceded that he would never be able to climb the winding staircase leading to the two bedrooms and half-bath upstairs. At this point, the first floor of the house was enough for him to negotiate. Except now one step was between him and where he wanted to go.
Spencer opened the patio door wider and pushed the screen aside. With a few bumps and a small tip, the front of the walker was on the deck. One step to the edge of the patio door and the walker landed on all four legs. Spencer knew the whoosh of the door opening and all the rest of his shenanigans had made enough noise to gain Ruger’s attention, but the sound of wood splitting kept its steady pace. Now he had to find out why a man, who saw and heard everything around him, hadn’t.
Taking a deep breath, Spencer braced his hands on the walker and lowered one foot onto the deck. Pain ripped through his torso, making his pulse throb in his ears. Spencer froze halfway through the door. Biting his lip held back a scream. For a second he was stuck, too scared to move forward and sick at the thought of stepping back inside.
Sometimes in life, in the end, a person had no choice. Spencer closed his eye and brought his other foot down onto the deck. For long moments, all Spencer could do was lay his forehead on his arm and endure the waves of pain raking through his insides. In the background, the rhythm of splitting wood continued.
Spencer's Reluctant Rescuer [Rescue for Hire 9] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 6
