Stripped Bare (4 page)

Matthew’s hackles rose. Walter detested the fact his younger son was gay, as if it were a slur to his fatherhood. David’s mother had kept Walter in check, but with her passing, Walter’s contempt of his son’s lifestyle had gotten worse.

The whole story sounded concocted and far too easy. Matthew had a feeling that it was a complete lie. He stared at Walter. The other man met his eyes with a slight smile. Walter knew it would be hard to disprove. David would never have the guts to speak out against his domineering father. Matthew loved David but he knew his friend’s limitations.

“And where was Lewis when all this…action…occurred?” By his tone, Matthew knew Walter would be very aware that he hadn’t believed a word he’d said.

“Lewis was in the study upstairs trying to fix a mess David had made and regain control of a lot of money my younger son lost through sheer stupidity. I think David was out with one of his man friends,” Walter sneered, his nostrils twitching in disgust. “But when I called and told him to get home, of course, he came.”

Matthew nodded. “Did Lewis see this fracas at the gatehouse?”

Walter looked annoyed. “No, Matthew, he didn’t. I’ve told you what happened and of course, Roy will tell you the same thing.”

Of course he will.
But at least they were back to his full name.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” he said. “Why do you need me down here other than as support for David?”

Walter waved a hand in exasperation. “I need you to control this situation for me. You’re good at all the legal stuff, and if truth be told, a lot of the publicity stuff as well. I don’t want this getting all blown out of proportion. I’ve already seen one nosy reporter lurking around with his fucking camera. I need you to do damage control for me. Keep things under wraps so it doesn’t get sensationalised.”

The lawyer’s blood boiled at the arrogant matter-of-fact manner in which Walter Debussy appeared to expect Matthew to make his self-inflicted troubles go away. But before he could retort, a rather harried-looking doctor appeared at Walter’s side.

“Mr. Debussy? Doctor Waite. Your son is resting comfortably. We managed to stop the bleeding from the head injury and put some stitches in. He’s got quite a few cuts and bruises and a cracked rib from the beating he took.”

Matthew’s blood ran cold at the full extent of David’s injuries. Walter had nothing on his face but a complete expression of concern for his son. Matthew felt a burning anger that the man could outwardly show such concern yet inside be so uncaring about his son.

“ Of course, until he wakes up we won’t know if the injury to his head has aftereffects, so we’ll just have to wait and see. But if you want to go and see him, I’ll show you to his room.”

Walter smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Waite. I appreciate everything you’ve done for my boy.” He turned to Matthew.

“Matthew, you wait here while I go to see David. I doubt I’ll be too long; then we can discuss things further. Roy should be here any moment to take me home. I’ll be no good waiting here with David whilst he’s sleeping.”

Matthew watched with narrowed eyes as the older man followed the doctor.

He’s not sleeping, you tosser, he’s bloody unconscious from a blow to the head that I think you or that prick Roy gave him!

He was distracted from his thoughts as he heard a loud noise at the entrance. Matthew watched curiously as a man came flying into the waiting area. The man moved over to the reception desk. The whole waiting room could hear his rambling words, delivered in a voice reminiscent of Richard Armitage, one of Matthew’s favourite actors. It went well with his persona. He was dressed in a very expensive and dapper grey business suit and had an air of panache that, despite his concern, seemed to ooze off him like he was born to the good life. He’d obviously been running. He was slightly out of breath and there was the sheen of sweat on his face. His dark blonde hair fell over his forehead in loose swathes.

“You had a friend of mine brought in earlier,” the man said. “His name is David Debussy. Is he all right? Can I see him?”

Matthew’s next thought was,
God he has a sexy voice,
followed by a certain sense of envy.
From the way he was carrying on, this man is a good friend of David’s. David is a very lucky man.

He could see the receptionist trying to explain to the man that David was in recovery and only family were able to see him. The more she explained, the more the man got agitated.

“You don’t understand. I could have fucking stopped him. I knew something was wrong when I couldn’t get hold of him. I shouldn’t have let him go back home to his fucking father-”

Matthew’s ears pricked up at that last sentence even as he winced at the foul language coming out of the younger man’s mouth in a public waiting room full of sick people. Matthew wasn’t averse to bad language when used in private or in the bedroom, but frowned on it in public. There was just no need to subject everyone else in earshot to profanity.

If Matthew was being employed to do damage control, he’d better bloody do it before this man made any more rather inflammatory statements.

He glided over to the reception window, seeing the young woman’s look of relief as he tapped the agitated man on the shoulder. The man turned, and Matthew was pierced by the most incredible blue gaze he’d ever seen. The man’s eyes were clear, bright lapis lazuli blue, and at the moment, angry and frustrated. He blinked, seeming taken aback at seeing Matthew standing behind him. A strange expression flitted over his face and then he scowled.

“Yes?” he growled. “I’m having a bloody conversation here; can you wait your turn?”

He turned back to the receptionist and Matthew sighed.

“I’m the Debussy family lawyer. I think I might be able to help you, Mister…?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow at the man who’d now turned back and was watching him suspiciously.

“Templar. Shane Templar.” His face tensed. “Lawyer? Are you here to try and clean up after the old bugger then? Shove it all under the fucking carpet?”

Matthew took hold of the man’s arm, smiled at the receptionist and pulled Shane over to the corner of the waiting room. The man’s muscles tensed under his jacket, and Matthew braced for a possible punch.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Shane hissed, wrenching his arm out of Matthew’s hold. “I don’t remember agreeing that you could touch me.”

“Mr. Templar, if you want any chance of seeing David, then I suggest you get me
on
your side, not alienate me.” Matthew’s voice was hard and uncompromising. It was the tone he used when he was in full lawyer mode. “David is unconscious but he’s being looked after.”

At the words, the other man’s body relaxed. His eyes closed and Matthew was struck by how long and dark the man’s lashes were. Then that blue laser stare was back on Matthew’s face.

“What happened to him?”

Matthew crossed both sets of fingers on his hands as unobtrusively as possible. Better toe the party line until he knew what this young man knew about this evening’s events.

“He was assaulted by someone as he drove in to his home. He hit his head, and that’s why we’re all here.”

The one thing he hadn’t been expecting was the explosive laugh that came from Shane. A very nice mouth in a square jaw, Matthew noted distractedly. Full, well-shaped lips, white teeth in a mouth currently twisted into a wolfish snarl. He certainly had a
je ne sais quoi
for Matthew.

“Don’t fucking give me that bullshit. I know his old man had something to do with it. David was bloody petrified when he left me earlier. And I fucking let him go.”

Matthew closed his eyes. “Do you think you could tone down the swearing?” he asked as he opened them again. The other man looked at him in disbelief. “This is a hospital waiting room, there are children here, and I don’t think it’s doing anyone any good.”

Shane looked around, seeing the wide-eyed stares of the few boys and girls. He looked shamefaced.

“I get your point,” he said between gritted teeth. “I’ll see what I can do. But don’t try feed me any more crap.” He looked uncomfortable at swearing again and gave a guilty glance at the watching children. “Something was wrong earlier on, and I just knew something bad was going to happen.”

“Who called you to let you know?” Matthew asked. “As far as I know it was only family and the Debussy assistant that knew about this. How did you get the news?” He used Roy’s formal title loosely as “assistant.”

Shane’s face became guarded. “I called his mobile and he didn’t answer. I wanted to see if he got home okay because when he left me he seemed out of sorts. So I called the house instead, and one of the ladies there told me he’d been taken to hospital.” He frowned. “She sounded pretty tense and I thought something really bad had happened. She wouldn’t tell me where or why and then put the bloody phone down on me!” His face grew angry. “I knew he’d probably be brought here. It’s closest to his home.”

“Did David give you the house telephone number then? It’s unlisted and they tend to be very careful about who they give it to. David’s gotten into trouble before about giving it out to a boyfriend. I would have thought he’d be more careful about doing it again.” Matthew watched Shane’s face. He had a feeling once again he wasn’t being told the truth.

What the hell was wrong with everyone tonight? Was it national Liar’s Day or something?

“Why does it matter whether he did or didn’t?” the other man expostulated. “What’s with all the fu—questions? Jesus, I feel like I’m being interrogated by the Gestapo! And I’m not his boyfriend.” He ran a hand through his wavy hair and Matthew watched, mesmerised at the action. He was uncomfortably aware that he was finding this man very attractive indeed. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s move into one of those empty visitor rooms over there. We can talk more privately there without wondering whether you’re going to let something loose.”

He strode over to the small room, hoping that Shane would follow. He entered the room and stood looking out into the darkness beyond. Seconds later he heard Shane come in. Matthew spun around. The man stood, leaning against the door, his slim frame outlined against the light of the A and E waiting room. Matthew could appreciate him more now. His broad shoulders filled his suit to perfection, tapering down to lean hips and long legs. He looked wiry and lean. Matthew could see the faint glint of golden chest hair at the opening to his shirt.

The lawyer’s stomach lurched, and the turmoil in his groin was growing. He cleared his throat. “Can you tell me what you and David were doing earlier to make you think he was upset or in danger?”

Shane’s suddenly sly smile and lascivious look caught him off guard.

“What we were doing? He had me tied down to a bed and was jerking off over me.” His taunting words went straight to Matthew’s groin, the images being conjured up enough to make his cock strain against the front of his trousers. He had a feeling it was exactly what the other man was trying to do.

Shane glanced down at Matthew’s groin and grinned. “Well, well, look at that,” he said. “And here was me thinking you were so self-contained and controlled, Mr. Lawyer Man. Being so officious and all.” He moved closer and Matthew could smell the definite scent of some oriental fragrance mixed in with what was definitely sex. The man reeked of it. Matthew’s nostrils flared.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to shower afterward, as David was upset and I was trying to calm him down. Then I got distracted.” Shane’s eyes watched Matthew’s throat as he swallowed. “So I think I might smell rather rank.” His fingers lightly brushed Matthew’s hand, and it was as if a live cattle prod had suddenly been shoved at him.

Matthew growled and moved away. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Yes, I’m gay too. So now we’ve joined the ranks of the exalted brotherhood together, can we get back to this all being about David?”

The two men glared at each other for a moment and then Matthew heard the voice of Walter Debussy at the door.

“Matthew? You look as if you’re squaring up in a bloody cock fighting ring, man. Stand down before I have to get the hose out for you two.” His words sounded jovial but Matthew knew Walter well enough to hear the nastiness behind them. His words had been well chosen. “Who is this man anyway?” He moved into the room.

His dark eyes assessed Shane and found him wanting as he turned to the man standing behind him. Roy Parsons was ex-military, about five foot five, powerfully built with a wiry strength that belied his size. His brown eyes were focused on Matthew and Shane with a look of sheer disgust on his face. Matthew hadn’t seen him arrive, but then he’d been busy trying to control the rogue Shane.

“Roy, if this man is one of my fag son’s filthy lovers, find out what the hell he wants and sort it. Then meet me outside. I’m going for a smoke. Don’t be long.”

He turned back to Matthew. “Matthew, call me later so we can talk about how to handle all this. The police have already got wind of the whole thing. How, I don’t bloody know. Bastards. No doubt we’ll have to sort out the story. Better still, come over for lunch about twelve. That should give you enough time to have a cold shower and get your head around what we need to do.”

“No.” Matthew’s quiet word caused all three men to look at him in surprise. Shane’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’ You’re my lawyer. You’ll do as you’re told.” Walter’s tone would brook no argument, and he turned to leave.

Matthew shook his head. “I won’t be helping you do anything on this, Walter. I want no part of whatever it is you and Roy are trying to keep a lid on. Your son is lying in there in a hospital bed, after having been beaten, with a head injury that may affect him when he wakes up. I’m not happy with the story you told me. I’m not going to be party to anything you want to tell the world. You and Roy are on your own.”

Walter’s face was puce, his jaw set and his dark eyes narrowed. “Matthew, I pay your bloody salary and keep you in that bloody silly car you like so much and that house you have. Of course you’ll do what I want.”