Blood Red Roses

by S. J. Coles

  * * * *

  He woke slowly, feeling like he was waking from a safe, comforting dream. The cold winter sun had crept a considerable distance across the sky. He sat up and realised he was both naked and alone. A stab of disappointment so sharp it almost punctured his mood was stopped in its tracks when he heard the soft sounds of someone moving around downstairs.

  He pulled on his track pants and hunted for his phone, frowning when he couldn’t find it, and padded downstairs. Kim was in the kitchen. The sight of him, his black hair still damp from the shower and his eyes, startling blue and unguarded as he set up Rick’s new Nespresso machine, had emotion flaring in his gut. Rick allowed himself a moment just to watch him then stepped forward.

  “Hey there,” Kim smiled and dropped a cartridge into the top of the machine. “How are you feeling?”

  Rick was just opening his mouth to try to reply when his eyes fell on his phone where it lay on the counter next to the empty Nespresso box.

  “Oh, sorry,” Kim said, handing it back to him. “Your sister called. I guessed she would want to know you were okay but also thought you could do with some sleep.”

  “You spoke to Ella?”

  “Yeah. Nice lady…if a little suspicious of a stranger answering your phone. Perhaps understandable. But I can be very charming when I need to be.” Taking in Rick’s expression, Kim’s boyish grin slipped. “Did I overstep the mark?”

  Rick searched in a box for espresso mugs to give him a moment to think. “No. No, it’s fine.”

  He wiped the mugs and set one in the machine just as the rich, rounded smell of fresh coffee filled the air. He realised he was staring at the tiled floor and turned his back.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  Rick let out a shaking breath and closed his eyes. “What do you know?”

  “Only what was on the news.”

  Rick gazed at the Nespresso machine without seeing it. “I don’t know what to talk about. I don’t understand any of it.”

  He sensed Kim take a step closer. “You could start by telling me what really happened.”

  Rick looked up. Kim leaned against the counter, a mild concern lighting his cool blue eyes. “Why?”

  “It must have been traumatic. It’s important to talk about stuff like that.”

  Rick watched the smooth, caramel-coloured espresso pour into the little glass mug. Kim stood, patient and silent at his elbow.

  “I came home from work and the door onto the balcony was open,” he murmured. “I closed it. Then I saw…blood…and a knife. I…” He made an impatient noise, put a fresh cup into the coffee machine and slammed in a new cartridge. “Then the police were hammering on my door.”

  “They took you in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit,” Kim said, taking the full cup. “How bloody awful.”

  “Yeah,” Rick said, firing up the machine again. “How much was on the news?”

  “Just that there had been a mysterious death. But they released the guy’s name. It was the one I was telling you about. The guy who resigned from Swanson and Gerrard?”

  Rick glared at the coffee machine.

  “Between that and you not answering the phone last night,” Kim went on, his voice mild, “I figured something pretty awful must have happened.”

  The machine purred to a stop and Rick raised the mug to his lips, but his stomach churned and he lowered it again. Kim was staring at the stains, his forehead furrowed.

  “There’s someone coming to take care of that later today.”

  “And the locks?”

  “What?

  “Someone was in here. Someone dangerous. You need to get the locks changed.”

  Rick rubbed his forehead, trying to make his thoughts stop spinning. “Who could have done this? And why?”

  “You can’t think of anyone?”

  “No.”

  “There’s no one you can think of that would want to hurt you? Or get you into trouble?”

  “No.”

  “No one at work?”

  Rick frowned. “What are you getting at?”

  Kim looked at him levelly. “The only connection so far is S&G.”

  “I’ve only worked there a couple of weeks,” Rick stated.

  “And you haven’t in that time, perhaps, found out something that you shouldn’t have?”

  Ice shot up Rick’s spine. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” Kim said with a shrug. “Evidence of something? Something damaging?”

  Rick took a long moment to find his voice. “No. Nothing like that.” Kim examined him for so long Rick’s skin started to prickle. “What do you know?”

  Kim raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know anything,” he said with a helpless gesture. “I’m just guessing here. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Rick looked away, the fire ebbing from his limbs and leaving him weak. “Thank you”

  “For what?”

  “For believing it wasn’t me.”

  A smile, more sincere than usual, softened Kim’s face. “Of course.”

  Rick hesitated then brushed a kiss across his lips, breathing deep the fresh smells of his damp hair and citrusy skin. Kim kissed back, slightly firmer, a reassuring pressure, then broke away.

  “Come on,” he said, downing his espresso in one mouthful. “I’m taking you to lunch.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You need to eat,” Kim said firmly, “and get some headspace. What time are the cleaners coming?”

  Rick checked the time on his phone and raised his eyebrows when he realised how long he had slept. “In an hour.”

  “Call them and tell them you’ll leave the keys with the doorman. Then get dressed. I’ll call my locksmith chum. By the time we’re back, everything will be sorted.”

  “What if the police—”

  “I won’t let them stop you getting lunch,” Kim said, pushing him towards the stairs. “Go. Get dressed. Now.”

  Chapter Six

  Rick had to admit that it was a relief to hand over control to Kim. Having someone make decisions for him, even for a short while, was what he needed right then. Kim called his locksmith friend as they drove, and the man promised to come round that afternoon and to leave the new keys with the doorman. Some of the tension across Rick’s shoulders loosened. He closed his eyes, listening to Kim chatter on about nothing in particular, lulled almost back to sleep, but then they were pulling over.

  “Here?” Rick blinked out the window at the Koffee & Kicks cafe.

  “Naturally,” Kim said with a grin. “Your sister said they had jambalaya on today.”

  Kim climbed out but Rick grabbed Kim’s elbow before he could cross the road. “I think we should go somewhere else.”

  “I’m sure the Swansons are otherwise engaged—”

  “It’s not that.”

  Kim’s expression fell. “You don’t want me to meet your family?”

  Rick fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable. “No. I do want you to…perhaps too much.”

  Kim raised his eyebrows. “Too much?”

  Rick rubbed the back of his neck, feeling himself blush. “I like you, Kim. A lot. I really want to—” He broke off with an impatient noise, fought his feelings and thoughts back into order with an effort. The knowing smile Kim was wearing wasn’t helping. “I think I like you too much for someone I barely know,” Rick admitted.

  Kim held out his hand. “Well, let’s do something about that, shall we?”

  Rick hesitated then took Kim’s hand and allowed himself to be led across the road.

  “Rick!” Ella came out from behind the counter and hurried to meet them. She hugged him then pulled away, examining his face with a crease of concern between her black brows. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he managed then indicated Kim. “This is Kim.”

  Ella’s face twisted with a mixture of excitement and suspicion. “You’re Kim?”

  “Guilty as charged,�
�� Kim said with a half-smile and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you,” Ella said, though she took his hand. She glanced at her colleague who was gesturing at the lengthening queue. “I’m sorry, bruv. I gotta get back. Did you need anything?”

  “We’ve come for lunch,” Kim said with another disarming smile. “I told your brother he needs to eat.”

  Ella’s face warmed with approval. “Damn straight. Sit right here. I’ll sort you out.”

  She hurried away, and Rick lowered himself into a seat. Kim shed his coat and sat opposite, leant his elbows on the table and smiled at him.

  “Your sister’s quite something.”

  Rick let out a nervous laugh, pausing when a waitress appeared with a tray loaded with two brimming pint glasses and two bowls of fragrant, steaming jambalaya, stuffed with prawns and chorizo. He took a huge mouthful of each, suddenly ravenous. Kim did the same and raised his eyebrows.

  “It’s good,” he said. “Really good.”

  “Ella’s an amazing cook. Mum taught her.”

  “This is easily restaurant quality.”

  “She’s interviewed for a few positions over the years. It never worked out.”

  “Why?”

  Rick shrugged. “Same reason I struck out basically anywhere that does background checks.”

  Kim didn’t reply and tucked into his food. Rick followed suit, enjoying the ease between them, the comfort of his sister’s cooking and the warm, friendly bustle of the cafe. When their bowls were scraped clean, Kim downed the last of his beer and levelled a heavy glance at him.

  “I believe we have some unfinished business?”

  “Huh?” Rick flushed, thinking of his words in bed that morning, and Kim laughed.

  “Not that. Or at least”—his grin turned wolfish—“not yet. You wanted to know more about me. I’m at your disposal. What would you like to know?”

  Rick finished his beer and signalled to Ella for two more before replying. “This is all just to distract me, isn’t it?”

  “Is it working?”

  Rick waited until the waitress had brought over their drinks before asking, “Who do you work for?”

  Kim raised his eyebrows. “I confess I didn’t think that would be the first thing you’d want to know.”

  “You know a lot about me,” Rick heard himself repeat, allowing himself to acknowledge his uncertainty squarely for the first time, “and about my employer. And the man that was killed. I need to know how you fit in to it all.”

  Kim’s face had gone very still. “You think I had something to do with what happened?”

  Rick blinked. “Of course not. That’s… No.” He shook his head, relieved that the absurdity of the idea felt genuine. “But there’s so much I don’t understand. I’d at least like to be able to understand you.”

  Kim examined him for a long moment then brought out his wallet and held out a business card. “I work for myself. Private Consultancy, like I said.” Rick took the card. It was navy blue with gold and white lettering—Clearfinity Finance Consultancy. Rick frowned, trying to remember if he’d heard of it. “I’m not on social media because I don’t find it helpful. I get my clients via word of mouth. I didn’t talk about it because it’s painfully dull. But there’s a website if you want to check.”

  Rick flushed. “I didn’t think—”

  “It’s fine,” Kim said, though his smile was a little thin. “You’re right to be careful. Especially after what’s happened.”

  Rick nodded, tapping the card off the table. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” Kim said, covering Rick’s hand with his own. “Don’t be sorry. What else do you want to know?”

  Rick sipped his beer. “Where’d you grow up?”

  “London. Next.”

  “Where’d you got to uni?”

  “Cambridge. Next.”

  Rick laughed, finding himself relaxing despite everything. “If I’m not asking the interesting questions, just give me the interesting answers.”

  Kim raised an eyebrow. “How interesting are we talking?”

  “Not so interesting that they compromise public decency.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Kim grinned, drank more beer and began to talk. Rick drank and listened. A cultured, cut-glass accent like his would normally leave Rick feeling scornful and alienated but, with Kim, it made him feel accepted and assured. That, combined with Kim’s ready humour, sharp wit and expressive, open face had Rick smiling and laughing with an ease he would never have thought possible, given the previous night’s events. Kim talked about how he liked to cook and run. He liked cars, high-end sound systems and good wine. He liked hiking in Scotland and mountaineering in Europe.

  It was all stuff Rick could have guessed within ten minutes of meeting him and was no different to the interests of the many other rich, privileged men he’d met during his time at LSE and through his attempts to claw into the finance sector. But with Kim there was something under it all, a real-life grounding and a down-to-earth perspective that he hadn’t encountered before. Kim talked about his fancy townhouse, his holiday home in Italy and trips around the Far East in a way that made it sound like he didn’t quite believe in his own luck. The fact that he thought of it as luck at all was both unusual and endearing.

  Rick was already aware that he was dangerously attracted to Kim. Every time he thought about the sex, his skin pickled and his cock stirred. Remembering Kim’s words to him that morning, it was all he could do not to grab the younger man and drag him into the cafe toilets. Combining that powerful physical desire with the way just talking with Kim made him feel, Rick had the very frightening realisation that he was falling for this man…and falling hard. And the timing couldn’t be worse.

  When Rick brought himself back to the present, Kim was looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

  “I know we didn’t want to talk about work, but I think we’ve put it off long enough.”

  “Put what off?” Rick asked with a sinking feeling.

  “How’s it really going at S&G?”

  Rick stared at his half-empty glass, the taste of the beer turning sour in his mouth. “Why?”

  “The situation I saw at The Savoy was…complicated?”

  “Kim—”

  “You don’t have to tell me everything,” Kim said. “It’s none of my business. But even putting the whole murder thing aside, assuming, for now, that its unrelated…anyone who was in that bar could tell she has plans for you that aren’t wholly businesslike.”

  Rick made himself smile even if his feet had gone cold. “Jealous?”

  Kim looked startled then laughed. “Should I be?”

  Rick shook his head a little helplessly. “No. I mean…” Rick juggled with the painful truth for a moment but then, taking in Kim’s earnest look, sighed. “Yes, I think she fancies me.” Kim snorted in a ‘that’s-putting-it-mildly’ way, but Rick continued like he hadn’t. “But I’m handling it.”

  “And how long do you think you can handle if before she tries to handle you?”

  Rick detected the spark of amusement in his eyes was mixed with a darker emotion. “She’s getting married.”

  “I don’t get the impression that will make a big difference to her.”

  “Maybe not. But if I can just put her off until after the wedding, I’m sure she’ll be far too busy then to think about me. Or maybe someone else will catch her eye before it becomes a problem. She’s not a bad person,” he heard himself adding. “I think she’s just lonely.”

  Kim raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t speak.

  “It’ll be fine,” he went on assertively. “I’ll go to the wedding, and after that—”

  Kim lowered his glass, blinking. “You’re attending the wedding?”

  “Yeah. She invited me last week.”

  “And you’re going?”

  Rick shrugged. “It’s what’s expected. And it’s important to act as expected, especially now.”

>   “Are you sure she still wants you there, after what’s happened?”

  “The company are supporting me. They’re getting me a lawyer. Cecily wants to help.”

  Kim looked thoughtful for moment then nodded. “Well, that’s good news at least.”

  “How are you boys doing?” Ella said as she joined them and started loading their empty plates and glasses onto a tray.

  “Grand. Great food, as always.”

  “It really was,” Kim said. “Seriously good. Did I detect some Sriracha and saffron in there?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

  “It gave it that little something extra. Lovely touch.”

  “Thanks,” she said her smile now genuine then waved it away when Kim withdrew his wallet. “It’s on the house.”

  “I’m afraid I must insist,” Kim said. “Your brother paid on our first date, so it’s only fair.”

  Rick flushed deeply, and Ella shot him a glance. “So this is the second date?”

  Rick blushed even harder. “I didn’t think it was—”

  “Like hell you didn’t,” Ella chided, giving him her best mock-glare. “Now get out here, both of you. I need this table for paying customers.”

  Kim chuckled after she’d gone and laid twice the cost of the meal in cash on the table.

  “So,” Kim said when they were back out in the cold street, “the cleaners and locksmith should be done by now.”

  “I don’t want to go back there.”

  “No?”

  Rick shook his head. “No.”

  “Well, that works out quite well, as it happens,” Kim said, unlocking the car. “You like music, right?”

  “Yeah…?”

  “I know just the thing.”

  A short drive later and Rick was following Kim through the front door of a building in Soho with excitement buzzing in his veins. He’d heard of Hunter Jones’ Music Club, of course, but had never been able to afford to go. Kim exchanged banter with the security guard like they were the oldest of friends, but Rick wasn’t sure he liked or understood the way the big man’s questioning glance kept sliding to him. Still, he let them through and Rick stared around the long, dimly lit room, crowded with tables which were in turn crowded with well-dressed and well-liquored people bobbing their heads and tapping their feet along to the energetic jazz ensemble on the stage.