Sinner's Gin (16 page)

“Thought you were supposed to have rock star sex,” he teased, lightly brushing Miki’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Isn’t that what bands are supposed to do?”

“Hah!” Miki mockingly pursed his lips. “Maybe if you’re Damien or Johnny. They’re whores. We had a no sex on the bus rule. The carpet was getting disgusting.”

“How long did you stay? With Vega?” Kane brought Miki back to his nightmares, gently circling him back around.

He dropped his eyes, staring at the stretch of skin and sinew on Kane’s neck. It was a safe place to look. There was a small dark beauty spot where his throat and shoulder met, and Miki studied it intently, hoping to keep the horrors at bay.

Carl’s touch still crawled under skin, and Shing’s viscous spit clung to the back of his neck. Nothing Miki did could erase the feel of their hands on him, digging deep into him until he’d felt like he’d burst apart. Kane’s weight on him felt different. The cop didn’t suffocate him. As massive as Kane was, he
fit
against Miki, filling in the spaces where Mike felt the most empty.

“I was… in school when CPS picked me up to take me over to Carl’s. I don’t know what happened at the other house… the family I was living with. They were… okay, I guess. The guy was an asshole, but the woman was all right. I can’t remember their names. Funny, huh? I lived with them for a year, and I don’t remember them.” Miki rested his head against Kane’s arm, burrowing into the man’s side. “The first few weeks were okay. He wasn’t home a lot, and Mrs. Vega was kind of spacey. They didn’t have any kids, just me. But then he started coming into my room, and… stuff changed.”

Kane didn’t say anything but moved his arm over Miki’s body, draping it over his stomach. Miki clutched at Kane’s forearm, playing with the soft hair crinkling his skin.

“I tried telling the CPS lady when she came over. He’d told me not to, you know. They always do,” Miki murmured thoughtfully. “I mean, Carl wasn’t the first time that kind of shit was done to me, but usually it was quick, and then I’d be kicked out of the house. He was different. He’d stay. Like for a really long time, and his wife, it was like she didn’t care he did it, or maybe she was happy about it. I don’t know. She wouldn’t talk to me when he was home. She’d make me dinner and stuff, but it was like I wasn’t there. Like she was setting food out for a ghost or something.”

“Did he hit her?” Kane asked quietly. “Was she scared of him?”

“She was scared of everything.” Miki’s laugh was bitter. “She’d have dinner ready, then go to her room to eat. I never saw her. Only time I ate at the table was when he was home. Then she’d put everything out like it was Thanksgiving dinner, tablecloth and all. Rest of the time, I ate in the living room.”

“What did the CPS rep say when you told her?”

“That he was touching me?” Miki snorted. “That I was making shit up because I was someplace I had to follow the rules. She told Carl what I said, right in front of me like she was going to prove I was a liar. He acted all concerned and made these noises like he was going to help me, but I could see he was going to beat the shit out of me as soon as she left. He has these small little black eyes, and they’d get all evil looking when he was planning something. So when he went out with her to her car, I grabbed some stuff and bailed out the back. I think Mrs. Vega saw me because I heard him yelling for me about a minute later, but I was already over the fence.”

“Where were you going to go?”

“No idea. Didn’t matter. I’d jumped the fence, but the neighbor heard Carl yelling and grabbed me. I didn’t even get to the street.” Miki swallowed, leaning his head back to breathe through his mouth. The cold air calmed him, nearly as much as the heat coming off of Kane as it seeped into his skin to warm his belly. “He had to work that night. That’s when he dragged me over to Shing’s. To the restaurant. I never went to his house.”

“To that storage room. Above the kitchen?” Kane asked and Miki nodded.

“When I got older, he’d make me work in the kitchen, but after the place closed, he took me up there.” Miki licked his mouth. “Carl… he was always angry. He’d hit when he did…
that
. With his fists or his belt. He was always pissed off, and he’d say shit like I was making him do this to me. That it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Miki,” Kane reassured him. He spread his fingers over Miki’s chest, pressing against the spot where Miki’s heart was threatening to pound its way out to freedom. “You were a kid.”

“Yeah, I know that now. It’s just that, Carl was so… mad. All the time,” he murmured. The tears were coming, full force and hot, and Miki sniffed, trying to keep his nose from clogging. “But see, Shing… he was worse. With Carl, I’d get bruises or he’d bloody my nose, but at least he saw me.”

Kane tried to pull Miki closer, but he wouldn’t let him. He needed space if he was going to tell Kane how he felt. Miki knew he needed air between them if he was going to hold it together long enough to finish ripping himself open for Kane to wade through.

“But Shing? He acted like it was just something he had to do, like brushing his teeth or eating dinner. He wouldn’t say anything, not really. He’d just make noises and take. He’d take what he wanted. He’d do it for hours, and then he’d get up and go. He’d lock the door behind him and just leave me there. Like I was nothing. At least with Carl, I wasn’t nothing, Kane. At least Carl saw me enough to hate me.”

Chapter 10

Sinjun, I swear to God we’re almost done.

D, why the hell am I doing this again?

For the chicks, man.

I don’t like chicks.

I do. Okay I like both dick and chick

but do it for me so I can get laid.

Give me one good reason I should worry about you getting laid?

Fuck, I don’t know. Finish this up and I’ll buy you a car. A nice one. Old Detroit steel.

I don’t drive, D. I can’t drive.

I’ll teach you. Just finish the damned song.

—Negotiations at four thirty in the morning

H
E
POURED
Miki into bed.

It was more of a bare mattress with a fitted sheet stretched over it and a nest of pillows and linens, but to Kane, it looked like a shelter against Miki’s storms. They’d stayed on the couch until Kane’s back creaked in discomfort, and when he tried to get comfortable, Miki let go of his sorrow, choking out sobs hard enough to rip Kane’s soul from its roots. He let the singer cry himself out, gently rocking Miki in his arms until there was nothing left inside of Miki to give.

Miki grumbled a bit but let himself be carried to bed. Boneless, he slid over the mattress, barely cognizant of anything around him. Kane worked Miki’s shirt off and then stared at the other man’s jeans. Resigned to the stiffness in his own dick, Kane undid the buttons on Miki’s waistband and tugged his pants off, working them off quickly. The dog jumped up on the mattress and curled into the curve of Miki’s back before Kane could spread the covers.

Kane knew it was wrong to look at the exhausted man, but he was too tired… too tempted… to ignore the sprawled out body in front of him. The long-limbed singer was a stretch of pale skin and sinew on the merlot-hued sheets. His knees were up, and he was twisted slightly so one of his shoulders lay against the bed. He shifted and murmured in his sleep, throwing one arm over his face to block out the light coming from the living room. Miki’s breathing was steady and slow, but tiny shuddering hiccups punched through his sleep, remains of his crying jag coming back to haunt him.

“God, baby. What the fuck did they do to you?” Kane sat on the edge of the bed and brushed Miki’s hair out of his face.

The knee was the worst of it. Angry red scars wrapped around Miki’s leg, looking like barbed wire rising up out of his skin. Even without touching the man’s leg, Kane could feel the heat coming off of it. Frowning, he wondered if he could wake Miki up long enough to take an anti-inflammatory, but the mumbled sighs of comfort from Miki’s parted lips threw that plan out the window.

Echoes of older pain lingered on Miki’s skin. Several light parallel stripes marked the curve of his ribs and across his back, ending in a curious curved T. The scars were faint, barely visible, but one in particular stood out. Slightly darker than the rest, the stripes ran down the line of Miki’s side, ending in a tiny puckered keloid. Unthinkingly, Kane skimmed his fingertips over the scar at the end of the lines, trying to reason out its cause. Too small for a bullet wound and too round for a knife tip, it took Kane a moment to realize he was looking at the remnants of a beating Miki took from a thick belt. The starry depression at the small of his back had been formed by the belt’s prong puncturing Miki’s tender skin.

“I’d kill them if I thought it would help,” Kane whispered, shocked by the well of emotions rising up in him. He meant it. There was no doubting his desire to rid the world of the men who took a lost little boy and made him into a broken young man. “Is that who killed Shing? Someone who knew what he did to you? But why now? After all these years?”

He covered them, dog and man both, figuring the terrier could worm his way out if he wanted.

Kane risked a kiss to the corner of Miki’s lips, then stepped back, forcing himself to walk out of the bedroom.

It was a long way to the living room, and the archway back to Miki’s bedroom loomed behind Kane, a haunting space beckoning him to the man’s bed. He was tired, worn down to the bone from the day, but his mind whirred, unsettled by the waves of anguish racking Miki’s body when Kane held him.

He popped the cap off a beer and took a deep pull from the dark, yeasty brew. Their dinner dishes sat on the counter, crusted with food. Kane left them to soak in soapy dishwater along with the utensils, hoping they’d scrape clean later. He returned to the living room, flopped onto the couch, and took another sip of his beer, finally letting the fatigue plaguing him seep down into his bones. His cell phone chirped out a cheery salsa, and Kane sighed, wondering what his partner was up to after the long night they all had.

“Hey,” Kane grunted into the phone. Surprisingly, the ancient couch was comfortable, and he squirmed into its cushions. “What’s up, Kel?”

“Where are you?” Sanchez barked back. “At St. John’s?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea since he found a bag of severed fingers and cow parts on his porch this afternoon,” Kane said, sitting up quickly. “What’s going on?”

“Some asshole somehow got ahold of one of the photos from the crime scene… one with your boyfriend in it. This same asshole posted a piece about St. John being a prostitute before hooking up with his band.” Sanchez swore, a blistering Spanish curse on the reporter’s mother. “It hit the rag’s website about an hour ago. The chief’s fucking pissed off, and Internal’s looking to cut off someone’s head.”

Kane’s stomach sank down. A sickening feeling spread through him, and he glanced toward the bedroom where Miki slept. “Any picture they got would be when he was a kid. What the fuck?”

“There’s a cease and desist out. The District Attorney’s got a flamethrower going and looking to make some s’mores. Casey’s right behind her. Someone’s going to get his nuts cut off.” Sanchez was running hot, and Kane couldn’t blame him. “Problem is, shit’s already out there. It was out there before we could do anything. God knows what sick fuck’s already downloaded it.”

“Damn it, Kel.” Kane ground his teeth. “Who the hell did this?”

“I don’t know, man. Kane, this shit’s from
our
files…
our
evidence room. I can’t fucking believe this crap. I’m going to beat the shit out of the guy who let this out. I swear to fucking God, just give me one minute in a room with him.”

“Shit.” Kane rubbed at his face. “This is crap, Sanchez.”

“Some lawyer called….” Sanchez’s words were lost when Miki’s cell phone sang, vibrating across the table.

“Hold on, let me call you back. Someone’s on Miki’s cell,” Kane said, reaching for Miki’s phone. “If it’s a reporter, I want to chew them a new one.”

“Nah, don’t bother. I’m going to go crash,” Sanchez grumbled. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Maybe I’ll be able to see straight by then. Have fun chewing.”

“Deal.” Kane hung up on his partner, then debated waking the singer, but, remembering the dark circles under Miki’s eyes, he gritted his teeth and unlocked the phone with a slide of his thumb. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” The woman on the line was angry. Her voice reverberated with it, a tingling, molten fury ready to be unleashed on the unfamiliar voice she found on the other end of the singer’s phone. “Where’s Miki?”

“He’s asleep,” Kane said softly. “I’m a friend of his, Kane.”

“The detective?
That
friend?” The woman’s tone softened. “This is Edie. Has he told you about me?”

“Said you were a manager or something? I had you down as a cross of Godzilla and Mary Poppins. And that’s a compliment.” Kane tried to recall what Miki said as he poured himself out into Kane’s heart. “He likes you.”