Frog Legs and Goose Feathers

by Charlie Richards

  All that did was give the attacker the ability to grab his second ankle.

  Screaming bloody murder, Jake twisted and struggled even as his vision began to swim.

  The loud honking confused Jake, as did feeling the attacker release him. The shout of shock and pain drew his attention, and he gaped... but only for a second. Somehow, the goose had come in through the open door and had knocked the man on his ass, maybe by biting his legs or thighs since he'd been crouching.

  As Jake scrambled out from under the table, he watched the goose pecking and biting at the attacker's face, who was waving his arms wildly, trying to fend off the vicious bird. Stepping around the tussling pair, Jake ran back into the kitchen. He grabbed the fire bat tucked inside the pantry next to the fire extinguisher.

  Although the short piece of wood was designed to break windows in an effort to escape a fire, Jake knew it would be fantastic for an alternate use---bashing his attacker over the head.

  Chapter Four

  When the second cop car, as well as the ambulance, zipped by him on the snowy road, Devon gripped the steering wheel a little bit tighter. His heart hammered in his chest. The flakes that had started falling just after the Triple A lady had arrived made the road slippery and wet, and he didn't trust his spare donut tire to hold up to any swift maneuvers.

  Devon turned onto his street, letting out a sigh of relief as he took the curve that would reveal his home. Then he sucked in a harsh gasp. His jaw sagged open as he stared at the three cop cars and the ambulance clustered in and around his driveway.

  "Fucking hell!" Devon cried as he eased his vehicle to a stop before his neighbor's home, since there wasn't any room in front of his own.

  Grabbing his cane, Devon shoved open his door. He eased from his vehicle as swiftly as his cold-aching knee would allow. His lover had been right. After a long day at the office, combined with the cold and slow drive home, his knee had stiffened up.

  Devon closed his door, then began limping as swiftly as possible up the sidewalk. As he drew closer, an officer approached him. He had his hand up as if warding him away. His words did the same.

  "I'm sorry, sir. This is a crime scene." The officer pointed back to his vehicle. "I need you to get back in your car and leave."

  "I'm Devon Gateman, and I live here with my partner, Jake." He couldn't stop how demanding he sounded. "What happened?"

  "You're Devon Gateman?" Obviously, Devon's name rang a bell to the man. He held out his hand. "I'd like to see your identification, please."

  Devon complied, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his wallet. Flipping it open, he handed it over. He watched as the man shown a flashlight on it, reading it.

  After closing the wallet, the officer gave it back to Devon. "I'm Officer Mendez," the man said. "Please come with me."

  Devon shoved his wallet back into his jacket as he limped behind the officer. When they reached the driveway, he spotted two more officers, a paramedic, an open front door, and more people inside. The other officers nodded to Mendez, but they didn't try to stop him.

  "Detective Haralson," Officer Mendez called, drawing the attention of a man in jeans and a nice jacket. The deeply bronzed male nodded at the other man he'd been talking to, then strode toward them. "Detective, this is Devon Gateman," Mendez told him, indicating Devon.

  The detective nodded. "Good. Jake's been asking after you." Beckoning, he turned and passed through the hall and living room until he reached the dining room. "Jake."

  Then Detective Haralson stepped aside, revealing a scene that caused Devon's gut to clench.

  Jake sat on the floor with a paramedic kneeling beside him. The man was cleaning the back of Jake's head. A couple of the dining room chairs had been overturned, and their fire bat had been wrapped in an evidence bag and was being held by another officer.

  On the other side of the table sat a hulking glowering blond. His face had a square, hard jaw, and his blue eyes glimmered with hatred. If looks could kill, his loathing glare would have struck down everyone in the room.

  Noticing the handcuffs on the guy, plus the two officers monitoring him, Devon dismissed him. He returned his focus to his lover as he strode toward him. Seeing how the gauze the paramedic was using came away pink, Devon let out a harsh cry.

  The noise drew Jake's attention, and his lover met his gaze. A wan smile curved his lips. He lifted his hand.

  Devon eased onto the floor beside him and immediately took his hand. "Hey, love," he crooned as he gently massaged Jake's hand between his own. "Are you okay?"

  He didn't bother asking what happened. The broken sliding door lock, which was just slightly gapped, along with the cops and cuffed intruder, told the tale---mostly. Instead, all Devon cared about was his lover's health.

  "Yeah," Jake murmured. He glanced just a little behind him, obviously glancing at the paramedic. "Just a knock on the head. I'll be fine."

  Devon smiled at Jake before turning his attention to the paramedic. "Do you agree?"

  The shaved-head, dark-skinned male flashed a reassuring look Devon's way. "No concussion. Nothing broken. Just a few bumps and bruises mostly. This cut on the back of his head is the worst of it." Slowly, he lifted the gauze away from the back of Jake's head, eyeing the fabric and the red stain on it before pressing a fresh swab to the back of Jake's head. "Unfortunately, head wounds are notorious for how much they bleed."

  "On your feet," an officer was saying, drawing Devon's attention. He watched as they urged the cuffed man to stand. It wasn't until the guy started moving, and he spotted not only his limp but the bandage on his right leg as well as his arms, that Devon truly wondered what had happened.

  Scowling at the sneering man, Devon realized he'd seen the man before. He recognized him from a news snippet. The man had been breaking into homes and stealing people's newly purchased gifts and electronics. On the occasion when he ran into someone, they'd been trussed to a chair and damn near brutalized.

  Devon's gut clenched. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath. "I recognize him." Snapping his attention back to his lover, Devon swept his gaze over Jake again. "God, are you sure you're okay? How'd you get away?"

  Before Jake could respond, Detective Haralson picked up one of the downed chairs and placed it upright. At the same time, he asked, "Are you ready to give us your statement, Mister Lewis?"

  "Yes, sir," Jake replied, his voice quiet. Glancing over his shoulder, he asked the paramedic, "Am I okay to get up now?"

  The paramedic pulled the gauze away. "Give it another couple of minutes, Jake," he urged, patting his shoulder. Then he pressed a new gauze to his head.

  "Butt's getting sore on this floor," Jake grumbled, but he remained where he was.

  Devon chuckled. Moving his right hand to Jake's thigh and squeezing, he appreciated the levity.

  Jake rested his hand on Devon's, then threaded their fingers together. After flashing a smile at him, he focused on the detective, who had a pen and pad in hand.

  "As I pulled stuff out for supper, I decided I wanted to listen to Christmas carols. I saw a shadow while going by the sliding door, then that big guy appeared, and I just froze." Jake sighed deeply, his fingers tightening on Devon's. "He popped the lock and came in before I could get my head together." Grimacing, he met Devon's gaze as he shook his head. "I forgot to put the piece of wood in the groove after feeding the goose."

  "I've done that, too," Devon replied, trying to reassure the younger man. "It happens."

  Because Devon knew how flimsy the lock on his sliding glass door was, he had cut the handle off an old broom and fit it in the bottom track. While it wouldn't keep out a determined intruder, they would have to break the glass, giving whoever was inside plenty of warning.

  Jake sighed before refocusing on Detective Haralson. He continued explaining, and Devon did his best to be supportive even as his heartrate spiked. Hearing how his lover had been threatened, he barely managed to suppress his angry growl. />
  "So why did he release your legs?" the detective asked, glancing up from where he was jotting down Jake's tale.

  Devon wondered the same thing.

  Smirking, Jake told them, "The asshole left the door open, and our goose came in and attacked him. Knocked him on his ass, then went after his face." A soft laugh erupted from Jake as he peered fondly out the glass door.

  Following his gaze, Devon spotted their goose settled against the door. It peered in at them. Never would Devon had thought a bird could look pleased with itself, but that was definitely the expression it wore.

  "The goose saved you?" Detective Haralson's lifted brows and parted lips betrayed his surprise and disbelief.

  "Yeah." Jake nodded, his lips curving in a wry smile.

  Detective Haralson snorted as he scribbled a few words on his pad. "Why do you have a goose, if you don't mind my asking?"

  Devon cleared his throat before saying, "I bought it for Christmas Eve supper."

  Once again, the detective arched a brow. "Huh." He peered at the goose out the window. "Gonna eat him, then?"

  "I don't think I can eat him now," Jake mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. His features twisted into a conflicted expression. Meeting Devon's eyes, Jake told him, "He saved me."

  Sighing, Devon squeezed Jake's hand. "We'll figure something out." Hell, what else could he say?

  I'll do damn near anything for my man.

  Jake sighed, then finished his story. "So, I grabbed our fire bat and knocked the intruder upside the head, then called nine-one-one before shooing the goose back out."

  Devon peered at the goose again, biting back a sigh of his own.

  "Guess we own a guard goose," Devon rumbled with a chuckle. Rubbing their twined fingers up and down Jake's thigh, he asked, "Have you thought up a name for it?"

  Looking beyond relieved, Jake shook his head. "No."

  Leaning over, Devon pressed a kiss to the side of Jake's head. He couldn't give a shit that the paramedic still knelt behind him. Jake was his boyfriend, and he would show him affection in their home.

  Jake smiled warmly at him.

  "Okay, Jake." The paramedic rose to his feet while patting his shoulder. "I've cleaned the area and put a small bandage on. Because of your hair, it's a little loose, and when you remove it, it'll tug." He shrugged. "Nature of the placement. Sorry, buddy."

  "It's fine," Jake assured. "Thanks for your help."

  "It's what I'm here for," the man said. Turning his attention to the detective, he added, "My partner took the pictures of Jake's injuries, so I'll have him email those to you."

  Devon vaguely recalled he'd seen the second paramedic leaving his house when he'd been on his way in. He guessed the guy had been the one to work on the attacker. While Devon had never considered it before, now he wondered how difficult it was for a paramedic to care for someone who was obviously a criminal.

  Pushing those disturbing thoughts aside, Devon gave mental thanks that, for the most part, he could pick and choose his clients, since he owned his own practice.

  Detective Haralson rose as well. "I'm going to write up your statement, Jake," he told him. "If you can come down to the station tomorrow to check it over and sign it, I'd appreciate it."

  The man held out his hand, and Jake took it. "Thanks," Jake replied. "And I'll be there. Got a particular time?"

  "The sooner, the better, so we can get this squared away and keep this trash off the streets."

  Jake nodded as he turned and held out his hand to Devon. Placing his cane on the hardwood floor, he gripped his lover. Between the two, Devon rose to his feet. When he placed his weight on his left knee, he winced.

  "Have a seat," Jake urged, righting the second overturned chair. "I told you that you'd stiffen up from that tire change episode, and then you ended up on the floor. Sorry."

  "Not your fault," Devon countered, squeezing Jake's hand, which he still held. "And yeah, you told me so," he teased, winking, hoping for a bit of levity.

  "I'll see Detective Haralson out, then come back and make supper," Jake claimed.

  Devon nodded as he held out his hand to the detective. "Thank you, detective."

  After nodding, Detective Haralson headed toward the front door.

  Jake followed.

  Unwilling to force his lover to make supper after his ordeal, Devon crossed to the counter and peered at the contents. He smiled and started the burner under the water that, at some point, someone must have turned off.

  "I told you I would do that," Jake stated, revealing that he'd returned.

  Devon turned and opened his arms.

  As soon as Jake went into them, Devon clutched his lover close. "I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered into his ear.

  After a few seconds, Devon felt the tremor that went through Jake's body. As his lover fell apart, he did the only thing he could. He held him.

  Chapter Five

  "Good morning, sweetheart."

  Devon's softly crooned words roused Jake from his sleep. Humming, he turned his head and cracked an eyelid. He smiled up at his lover, noticing that he was already dressed.

  "Hey," Jake whispered. "That time already?"

  "Stay in bed and relax, love," Devon rumbled, threading his fingers through his hair and lightly massaging his scalp, carefully keeping away from where Jake had been hurt. His brows furrowed as a thought must have crossed his mind. "Unless you won't be comfortable here alone? I'm only at the office until about eleven or so. Did you want to come and work on your research paper or something?"

  Jake shook his head. "I'm okay," he assured, reaching out and gripping Devon's forearm, sliding his hand up and down it. He took a few seconds to enjoy the feel of his lover's strong limb and smooth skin. "Don't worry about me."

  "You sure?" Devon dipped his head and nuzzled at his neck as he murmured, "I could take you to the police station afterward."

  "Mmmm, that feels nice." When Devon nipped at the tendon of his neck, Jake giggled and slid away a little so he could focus on his lover's words. "No, big guy." He squeezed Devon's wrist in assurance. "I'm gonna lie around for an hour, then head to the station before running a couple of other errands."

  Devon stared at Jake for a long moment, as if trying to decide if he was really okay. Then he nodded. "Okay." Pressing his mouth to Jake's, he placed a slow, sipping kiss to his lips. "Holler if you need anything."

  "I will."

  After one more kiss, Devon left the room.

  Jake rolled over and grabbed his lover's pillow. Burying his nose in the fabric, he inhaled, enjoying his man's lingering scent on the fabric. Letting out a deep sigh, he relaxed into the mattress and dozed.

  Waking slowly, Jake stretched languorously. He smiled as he recalled the evening before---after the attack, of course.

  Devon had held him and soothed him, helping ease his stress. Then they'd prepared dinner together and ate a bowlful of the casserole while curled up on the sofa. They'd watched some Christmas cartoons with glasses of wine. It had been years since Jake had thought to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman, and he'd loved every second of the nostalgia-inducing cartoons.

  Finally, they'd gone upstairs, gotten cleaned up, and climbed into bed. Jake's body warmed as he recalled the slow, sweet loving Devon had bestowed upon him. His man somehow had a knack for always making him feel so damn special.

  Sometimes Jake worried that he didn't make Devon feel the same way. Then he would remember the grateful expression on his partner's face when he came home from a long day of work. Jake knew it wasn't just because there was usually food ready and candles on the table.

  Devon had told him more than once that he felt as if Jake made his house a home.

  With those thoughts swirling through his mind, Jake slipped from the bed. He showered and dressed before heading downstairs to the kitchen. After grabbing a travel mug, he filled it from the carafe. Jake snagged a blueberry muffin from t
he bread box, then bundled up and headed out the door.

  Jake settled in his Jeep and fired up the engine. While the heater blew hot air into the cabin, he ate a bite of muffin, then took a sip of coffee. Humming to himself, he opened the garage and started on his way.

  Following the instructions on his GPS, Jake ate and drank his breakfast on the way to the police station. He parked in a nearby lot. After downing the last couple of gulps of his drink, fortifying himself against the short, cold walk, Jake exited his vehicle, locking it behind him.

  He hustled along the walk, appreciating that it appeared to be freshly shoveled. Reaching the station, he headed inside. Since his father had been a detective all his life, he didn't have the same paranoia that he'd heard others express about entering a station... as if by walking in the door, the cops would find them guilty of something or other.

  God, my father. He's gonna freak when he hears about this.

  Jake shook his head at the thought before stepping up to the reception desk. "Hi, I'm here to see Detective Haralson."

  The man behind the desk---Angus, if the name placard was correct---peered at him with a suspicious expression. "Your name?"

  Jake barely resisted rolling his eyes. Dick. "I'm Jake Lewis. I agreed to meet him around ten o'clock." He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was five til. "Will you let him know I'm here, please?" He kept his tone pleasant, knowing that went a long way toward getting things done as swiftly as possible.

  "I'll see if he's available."

  Nodding, keeping his smile pasted on his face, Jake turned and settled into a chair. In less than a minute, Detective Haralson appeared. "Jake?"

  Rising to his feet, Jake nodded and followed him into the back. He sat where he was told, and when the detective handed him a couple of sheets of paper, he quickly reviewed his statement. As Jake read the account of what he'd been through, a shiver worked up his spine.

  Damn.

  "Everything correct?" Detective Haralson asked from where he sat across from him.