by J. P. Bowie
“And this time,” Royce said, “it’ll be for a longer time. Showing that he had the wherewithal to take advantage of the situation and steal a car says he’s a flight risk and a danger to the community. It could mean real prison time for him, not an institution. You think he fooled the court psychiatrists, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen. Grant has ‘charmer’ imprinted on his forehead. He can worm his way out of situations like no one can.”
“But this time,” Royce said, “he might have overplayed his hand. Once they catch him, it’s my bet he’ll be gone for several years. Is that what you want?”
Jordan nodded. “I can’t forgive him for what he did to me, and I’m afraid of what he might do in the future. It’s possible he’d try to charm his way into someone else’s life, just like he did mine.” Jordan sighed. “I was young and stupid. I thought I saw in him the father I never knew. The sex…well, I should’ve stopped it, but I felt I owed him for taking me in when I was flat broke and couldn’t raise the money to compete. He took care of that…took care of me in the beginning. He became like family. My mother actually liked him a lot. Paul, my brother, was always a bit more reserved, but kinda went along with it, I guess for my sake. When I think of it now, he was probably the only one who saw Grant for what he was…is. Yeah, and Jed, too.”
Parker, who had been listening but saying nothing, stepped forward and squeezed Jordan’s shoulder. “Sounds like you’ve been through the mill and by no fault of your own. You’re okay with us here, Jordan. Chances are he’s not going to find out where you are, but if he does, we’ll show him the gate. I don’t know if Seth ever told you about the guy that came after Mike. He’s not a problem anymore.”
Royce rolled his eyes. “Parker, you made that sound like we took care of him. Truth is, Jordan, the guy was more or less a hitman, hired by Mike’s ex. He had a stroke while driving his car and died when it crashed on the freeway. A fortunate accident for all concerned—except him of course.”
“You wanna stay for dinner, Jordan?” Parker grinned. “I got the barbecue goin’. It’s not steak, it’s chicken. Royce says we have to eat healthy once in a while, but you’re welcome to join us.”
“That’s good of you. I think I’d like that.”
Royce smiled. “I’ll get you another beer. And remember, if you need legal assistance, I’m here.”
* * * *
Blake was just the tiniest bit jittery while he sat waiting in Duncan’s and his favorite diner on Christopher Street. He and Duncan had made Mel’s their go-to place early on in their teaching careers. It was here that Duncan had met Carey, and Blake hoped that his little ruse was going to pan out tonight. He’d told Duncan that he had a really strong urge to revisit their old haunt for just the fun of it, and Duncan, although he’d looked at him strangely, had agreed on what he called Blake’s trip to nostalgia.
He hadn’t told Duncan that they’d be joined by a third party, and he hoped like hell he hadn’t screwed this up, but Duncan still hadn’t called Carey, and in Blake’s mind he was just taking too long. The more he prevaricated, the less likely Carey might be up for a reconciliation.
Carey had seemed really happy to meet him at the diner. They hadn’t seen each other since his and Duncan’s breakup and Blake had remonstrated with himself about that. He liked Carey, liked his quick wit and ready smile and had always thought he and Duncan were made for each other. Stupid Carey for fucking things up by making a really bad mistake. Oliver Brant, of all people. He sniggered as he took a sip of his Coke. If you’re going to cheat, why the hell not do it with a Matt Bomer lookalike, not some dweeb like Oliver Brant. Duncan’s mention of Oliver’s flabby ass made him snigger again. Not nice, Blake.
He looked up when Duncan sailed into the diner and slid into the bench opposite him. “Why are you laughing?”
“Just thinking about times past,” Blake said, shifting his gaze from Duncan to the diner door being swung open and Carey’s searching expression filling his vision. Oh, God…have I made a terrible, terrible mistake?
Duncan followed Blake’s gaze to the door and he gasped. “You didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“You know what, you louse. You invited him here on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No, no…what a coincidence. Hey, Carey, how are you?” If he’d been directing a comedy movie, he couldn’t have done this scene any better. Both Duncan and Carey stared at each other, their mouths literally hanging open, their eyes bugging out of their heads. Then both heads swivelled in his direction and the heat of their joint laser beam glares was almost palpable on his skin.
“How could you?” seemed to come from both sets of stiff lips at the same time. Duncan rose from his seat, but Blake leaned across the table and shoved him back down.
“Listen, you two, this might not be the best way, or place, to get you back together again, but I’ve done it, and neither of you are leaving until you’ve talked. So keep sitting where you are, Duncan, and you, Carey, park your ass next to him.” Blake was quick to notice that Carey did so without any hesitation. Okay, so I’ve got one half on my side.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Duncan ground out between clenched teeth.
“I-I think he wants us to talk,” Carey said, saving Blake the bother of repeating himself.
“Say something,” Duncan hissed at Blake.
“Uh, I think you two are so darned cute together.” Blake grinned at them both. “It’s a reunion made in heaven.”
“Shut up,” Duncan growled.
“I-I think he’s got a point,” Carey said. “We should talk. I-I’ve called a hundred times and you won’t pick up. So-so let me say what I should’ve said in any one of those hundred messages I’ve left. I love you, Duncan. I know I was an idiot and you have every right to be furious and hate me, but please believe me, I’m sorry, Duncan, so sorry, and I want you to say you forgive me.”
“You fucked Oliver Brant,” Duncan said, none too quietly, getting the attention of half the diner’s occupants, much to Blake’s amusement when heads turned and eyebrows were raised. “How could you?”
“I told you I was an idiot, weak, stupid. I hate myself for what I did. Forgive me, please.”
There were tears in Carey’s eyes and Blake had a sudden thought that the diner might not have been the best place for this kind of scene. Duncan’s face under that fiery red hair was decidedly flushed, his forehead covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Was he going to explode or implode or just sit there seething? He visibly froze when Carey reached out a tentative hand and took Duncan’s in a gentle grip…but he didn’t pull away.
Aha, now we’re getting somewhere…
“Ma-maybe we could go somewhere else to talk properly?” Carey said softly.
For a long moment Duncan stared into Carey’s eyes as if searching for truth or love or something. Jeez, can’t he see they are the cutest couple in the world? If Duncan fucks this up, I will kill him.
After what seemed like an eternity, Duncan nodded once. “Okay.” He rose and Carey practically bounced out of the booth. Duncan paused to stare at Blake with an unreadable expression.
“Later,” he said, and followed Carey out of the diner.
Blake slumped back in his seat. “Phew… Mission accomplished…I hope.” He got up and paid for his unfinished Coke. Right then he needed something a helluva lot stronger…and he also needed to talk to Jordan. A week away was just too long.
* * * *
Jordan was glad to see his mother looking so well. At fifty-five, Joanne Hendricks had put on a few pounds which actually looked good on her. He’d been worried that the dramas of the past few months would have been etched on her features, but no, she was still the same attractive woman he’d loved all his life.
“You look lovely, Mom,” he murmured in her ear when they hugged. She’d always given good hugs and now she clung to him just a shade longer.
“You do too,” she
said and Paul guffawed. “I meant handsome, of course, though you always did have a lovely smile…still do.”
“Yeah, he’s lovely all right.” Paul clapped him on the back. “Never know he was a rugged rodeo rider, would ya?”
“Not so much, working on a dude ranch,” Jordan said. “But the owner gave me a swell horse of my own long as I’m working for them.”
“That’s so generous of them. You like working there, son?”
“Yeah, the owners are real nice, some of the guys too. I’m bunking there but you wouldn’t believe how fancy that is compared to some of the bunkhouses I’ve been in. Royce, he’s one of the owners, has the gay decorating gene for sure. Even gave me a smart TV.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “There’ll be no pleasin’ him from now on, Mom. You’ll have to get a smart TV for his room when he visits.”
Joanne laughed. “Come on and sit in the kitchen. I’ve made lunch for you both.”
Jordan tried to steer the conversation away from everything Grant Svenson during lunch, but he supposed it was inevitable his mother would mention the creep’s name.
“I only know what Paul’s told me, Mom, but I did talk to Royce. He’s an attorney, but also I thought he should know about Grant’s craziness and managing to escape. He did say once they catch him, he’ll face multiple charges and most likely will do prison time.”
“That’s good news,” Paul said vehemently. “The longer the better.”
His mother shook her head sadly. “Sometimes I find it hard to believe he’s the same man you brought home for me to meet all those years ago. So sweet and charming. Who knew under all of that there was a deviant monster? What he’s done to you, Jordan.” She gripped his wrist, her eyes brimming.
“Don’t cry, Mom.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. God, but he hated what Grant had done to her opinion of him. She’d almost considered him her third son…
“We should’ve listened to what some of the other riders were saying about him.” Paul frowned. “Especially Jed. I never heard him say a bad word about anyone, but he sure had an opinion about Grant that was none too savory.”
“I just found it hard to believe at the time,” Jordan said. “We all did. It was all about that phoney charm of his.”
“Well, we’ll see how far that charm gets him this time, when they catch him,” Paul sneered.
“If they catch him,” Joanne whispered.
“They’ll catch him, Mom, don’t worry.” Jordan squeezed her hand gently. He hoped like hell he was right…but surely the bastard couldn’t stay on the run forever. Odds were, clever as he was, he’d make a mistake, and if Royce was right, it’d be many years before he’d see the light of day again.
* * * *
Grant had chuckled with glee when Jordan’s Wrangler pull up onto the Hendricks’ driveway. He’d known in his gut that the son of a bitch would show up at his momma’s house sooner or later. All he’d had to be was patient, and it had paid off big time. If he’d still had his gun, he’d have gone banging on Joanne’s front door and scared the shit out of her. But without a gun, and with Paul and Jordan on either side of her…that wouldn’t be too sweet an idea. No, he’d wait until Jordan left, be it tonight or tomorrow. He didn’t care. He had all the time in the world. The cops would never imagine he’d still be in the area. Probably thought he’d high-tailed it out of the state…but he hadn’t and he wouldn’t until he got what he wanted—Jordan on his knees begging for forgiveness, crying like a baby not to hurt him anymore.
He just wished he had a stack of Valium. Jordan had been so easy to control when he was doolally. But he’d figure out a way. Later when Jordan got back in his Jeep and headed to wherever he was hiding, he’d follow him and stake him out until the time was right. When he was vulnerable, when he least expected it. Grant sniggered. Oh, it was going to be so good.
* * * *
“So, how did it go with La Familia?” Duncan and Blake were in the staff room before first class. Duncan slid a mug of coffee toward Blake. It was Monday morning, and there was to be a round of tests for their students that would be as big a headache for the teachers as it would the students.
“Pretty much like you’d expect.” Blake took a long sip of his coffee and sighed gratefully. “Thanks. Dick lived up to his name like he always does. Blaming the state of the union on liberals, minorities and weak judges. He only just refrained from saying the word ‘fags’ although I could see it in his beady eyes every time he looked my way.”
“I don’t know how you can stand being there.”
“Believe me, if it wasn’t for Mom and Dad, I wouldn’t dream of sitting at a table with them. Sister and brother notwithstanding, their choice of spouses says a lot about them personally.” He shrugged. “Anyway, more importantly, how’d it go with you and Carey? I wanted to call but thought you might be deep in conversation…or deep in—”
Duncan was blushing as only a redhead could, but he managed to hold up an imperious hand. “Stop right there. I am not going to give you a blow-by-blow account of what happened.”
“Pun intended?”
“Shut up. Suffice it is to say that we worked out a few things and we have agreed to start dating again.”
“You can thank me now.”
Duncan glared at him. “I’m still mad at you for the way you ambushed me.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “If it had been left to you, you’d still be crying in your beer about love lost and not found. You’re delighted that you and Carey talked…and anything else you got up to, and so am I. I’ve hated seeing you so unhappy for months now.”
“I appreciate that, Blake, I really do. You’re a good friend, my best friend, really.” Duncan smiled. “And Carey thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. So yeah, thank you for what you did, you sneak, you.”
They stood when the bell rang signifying first class. “Any time,” Blake murmured, and put an arm around Duncan’s shoulders while they walked together from the staff room.
During the day, Blake’s mind would drift to his previous time spent with Jordan and their upcoming weekend together. He had to admit it’d been a long while since any guy had had such a profound effect on him. That first kiss by the pool had zinged its way straight into his groin, almost dizzying him with its intensity. He’d wondered since then if it was simply the fact that Jordan was so different from anyone else he knew—because, of course, he didn’t know any other cowboys—or at least real cowboys who’d actually competed in rodeos. The bartenders in the Western-themed bar Duncan loved didn’t count. Even if they did wear ass-less chaps and say, ’Howdy,’ when a customer walked up to the bar.
He surveyed the rows of desks in front of him and the students tackling the exams. Most had their heads down while some stared into space with glazed expressions. He glanced at his watch. Another half-hour… He wondered if Jordan was looking forward to their time together as much as he was. He hoped Jordan’s visit to his family had gone better than his. He didn’t know if he could stomach another one of those torturous dinners with what he and Duncan had labeled the Addams family. He’d lost count of how many times his father and he had exchanged surreptitious eye-rolls while his brother-in-law had expounded on everything that was wrong with the US. He was partially right. The country did need help. Dick just had the wrong reasons and got irate when Blake refused to comment on his hypothesis. God only knew what he and Jenna, Blake’s sister, talked about when they were alone together.
Thinking of ‘alone together’ brought Jordan back to the forefront of Blake’s mind. When they’d last spoken, there had been no word of creepy Grant’s whereabouts, and according to Jordan’s brother, Paul, the guy had most likely left the state in order to avoid capture in California. Despite being worried, Jordan had been enthusiastic about their weekend. Just a few more days and they could pick up where they’d left off, and Blake could hardly control his excitement. And not because he knew there’d be lots of sex. He loved spending time with Jordan. The c
owboy was easy to be with, to talk to and his quiet sense of humor was a joy. It amazed him that Jordan was able to maintain his easy-going nature and ready smile, considering what he’d had to deal with in his past—and now that past had unfortunately become the present.
Chapter Ten
Grant studied the entrance to the Seven Plus Ranch and scowled. There wasn’t enough cover for him to get in without being seen, and it looked as if a cyclone fence surrounded the whole perimeter. Artfully disguised by trees and vines, it was heavy duty and would need at least a bolt cutter to get through the thick wire. At night he’d seen that the gate electronically closed and a pass code was needed to get in after ten p.m.
He’d been watching the ranch for days now from his stolen car behind a bank of trees on the other side of the road. No one had been anywhere near him. Really is the boonies out here, he’d groused to himself, but he’d been thankful for that fact. No kids playing ball, no one walking their dogs, just a few cows in the field behind him and sheep on a rise in the distance. In contrast, the Seven Plus was a hive of activity. Folks coming and going all day long. Ranch hands were easy to spot by their familiarity of the place, some guys he reckoned to be the ‘dudes’ learning how to ride or rope a steer. Fucking privileged dickwads. Too much money and too much time on their hands to be really useful human beings.
He’d seen Jordan a couple of times, driving through the gate in his Wrangler, sometimes alone, sometimes with some other guys. He wondered which one he was fucking. Didn’t matter ’cause soon he’d wouldn’t be fucking anyone ever again. The son of a bitch is going to pay for the pain he’s put me through. He’s gonna wish he’d never called the cops on me, never had me locked up in that shithole. He shuddered at the memory of that cold and ugly place with its soulless employees who stared at him like he was dirt and treated him even worse. And that bastard brother of his pretending to be oh so worried when he visited. But, man, he looked sick when they told him they were gonna let me go. Grant giggled, remembering the expression on Paul’s face the last time he’d been in his room.
