“Kid’s going to be fine. Rollins had him pinned down on the bed but the boy was giving him hell, let me tell you. It’s a damn good thing Rollins didn’t think to tie him up first—good for the victim, that is.”
Everything else was gravy in Adam’s opinion. The kid hadn’t been raped, Mitch was in jail, and Chase was getting another bawling out over something or another, Adam didn’t bother listening in, and when Detective Bishop called an officer over to take Adam home, he went without a backward glance.
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Adam floated on that energising sensation one got from doing something you know is good for three days. He hadn’t always done the right thing in his life—who had?—but playing a part in keeping the boy from the Turtle safe and putting Mitch Rollins away, even if Rollins the second had quickly got his son moved to a psychiatric facility, kept Adam humming a happy song under his breath until Tuesday. Calls from James Stratton had kept Adam somewhat in the loop, and while he couldn’t fully believe Mitch would end up in prison, everyone in Billings now knew what a pervert the guy was. It’d been on the front page of the paper and the news had been blaring more and more accounts of the man’s crimes every night.
Which was why Adam was, naïvely he thought, so shocked when everything came
crashing down so suddenly. First, he’d shown up for an emergency meeting called by Mr Lazano, the owner of Paigianos, where everyone had been informed by his teary eyed boss that the restaurant had been sold. Paigianos was closing immediately. The new owners were going to revamp the place from top to bottom, which included finding all new staff.
Adam hadn’t been the only shocked employee. They’d seen it coming, sure, but
everyone had expected a little more time, or at least the offer of employment if the place was sold. He’d taken his last cheque, his fingers numb, and somehow managed to drive to the bank to make the deposit. By the time he’d got back to his dingy little apartment the numbness had spread, but not so much that the eviction notice giving him three days to get out didn’t send him into heart stuttering panic. Adam plucked the note off his door and read the supposed violations of his lease—complaints from neighbours about loud parties? Late payments?— a chill slithered down his spine.
“You fucking bastard,” Adam seethed, his vision blurring as his eyes burned. He’d been warned, albeit by Mitch, about Rollins the second, hadn’t he? But Adam was still stunned, unable to take in the magnitude of what was happening. Had Rollins bought Paigianos just to ensure Adam lost his job? Surely that was a coincidence—but no. Adam crumpled the paper in his hand. It wasn’t coincidence, he’d bet what little he had on that.
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And the accusations in the manager’s eviction notice, how could he disprove them if he chose to fight this? If Rollins was exerting his power, paying people off, he could very well bribe Adam’s neighbours—may have already done. Adam wasn’t close to any of them, he kept to himself. He wasn’t rude, but being a gay man in Billings could be dangerous and he’d thought it best to keep the other renters at a distance. Adam also didn’t bring men back to his place for that same reason. It was one thing to have his neighbours suspect he was gay, another entirely to confirm it and risk being bashed in the parking lot or even in his own home.
As for the rent, Adam always paid on time—cash, of course. After bouncing a few
cheques a few years ago, Adam had stuck to a savings account and a Visa debit card.
Apparently he should have spent the extra dollar or two for a money order.
But he should have the receipts. The thought gave Adam a flicker of hope as he
unlocked his door. He knew immediately someone else had been in his apartment. The air just felt…wrong—thick with a creepy vibe, as if someone was watching.
“Fuck!” Adam bit his lip, mentally cursing himself for making any noise. He left the door open several inches and studied the tiny apartment. He didn’t even have a bedroom—
well, he did. That would also be his living room/dining area where his yellow flower print Goodwill sofa served as his bed. The only room he couldn’t see was the bathroom. But there was nothing out of place, just that sense of his space having been invaded.
Adam fingered his cell phone in his pocket, pushing it up until he could pluck it out.
He took several breaths trying to work up his nerve, then quietly made his way to the bathroom. The door was open slightly and he peered in and saw nothing out of place—and more importantly to him, no one. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, he almost expected someone to magically appear, he felt another’s presence so strongly.
When nothing happened, he stepped into the bathroom and looked around the space.
A bit of paper floated in the toilet bowl and Adam knew he was past screwed. The corner of the paper was white, with a blue line framing and a bit of pale pink visible.
Adam ran from the bathroom and grabbed the metal lunchbox he kept his important
papers in. Popping the clasp on the Captain America box, Adam shoved the lid up and screamed in frustration when he found the box empty. Even his birth certificate was gone.
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“Damn it damn it damn it!” Adam stomped one foot hard enough he knew the
downstairs renter would complain. “Well let them!” Fuck it, he was already being accused of being too noisy, so why not vent? What would the manager do, evict him even earlier? “This is fucking illegal,” Adam fumed. “And I know a real estate lawyer!”
Adam dialled James’ office, so angry his head was pounding. “I need to speak to Mr Stratton,” he bit out as soon as the phone was answered.
“I’m sorry but Mr Stratton isn’t available,” a cold female voice said.
“God.” Damn it. Adam shoved his fingers in his hair and pulled, hard. “Then can you give him a message?”
The cold voice turned frigid. “I’m sorry sir. Mr Stratton will be unavailable for quite some time, at least until the Bar Association is through with their investigation.” The woman hung up without another word.
“No fucking way,” Adam snarled, glaring as the cell phone screen went dark. “Who
does Rollins think he is? God? How can he—” Money and power, plain and simple. Adam knew it but still… His phone beeped, the screen flickering back on to show a voicemail icon.
“It’s not like it can get any worse.” Everything felt surreal at this point. How could one man destroy his life so thoroughly? With a sense of dread, Adam pressed the button to play the voicemail and realised as he listened that yes, things could indeed get worse.
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25
He was not going to get sick. Leslie Stanton held back the coughing fit he felt building in his chest until it exploded from his lips like a nuclear blast. He cringed as he clutched at his chest, his lungs aching with each heave as he drooped against the wall in the ER where he was on duty as security tonight. He could have called in sick since this was his second job. If his boss here had decided to fire him, it wouldn’t have been a great loss—except, Les liked being able to pad his savings account. He felt better knowing he had some extra money in case of an emergency, or to supplement his retirement. He didn’t want to have to work at a big box store just to survive when he was an old man.
This is not happening to me.
Les refused, absolutely refused to be ill. He was a big strong guy, took care of himself and was as healthy as a horse—another round of coughing shook him, setting his chest to burning as he slapped a hand over his mouth. So, he was as healthy as a horse—if the horse had the equine version of whatever the fuck this virus tearing through town was.
God damn it, I don’t feel so hot.
And it pissed Les off so much, he was surprised his anger didn’t burn out whatever nasty crap was making him ill. It infuriated Les that, no matter how hard he worked to keep himself healthy, something was still managing to take him down. After too many years spent as a sickly child. Les had sworn to himself to do everything he could to be strong and never be vulnerable and weak or sick again.
It didn’t matter that he knew logically he couldn’t control fate or whatever cooties other people passed along, it still felt like a betrayal, as if his body was giving him the finger and snickering about it even as this virus racked his body. Or maybe it was life flipping him off, or destiny, Les gave up figuring it out when he started coughing so bad his head spun.
A touch to his arm, then a squeeze hard enough to help him find his equilibrium had the fuzzy dots clearing from Les’ vision. Josh looked up at him, concern in his pretty green eyes. “You sound like shit, look like it, too.”
Les’ cheeks stung, humiliated at anyone seeing him so weak. “Just a cold,” he rasped, shocked at how brittle his voice sounded.
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Josh narrowed his eyes and frowned, his full lips thinning into a pale line as he studied Les. “Hmm. I don’t think so. I can feel how hot you are,” he squeezed Les’ arm.
“You’re burning up, buddy. Your eyes are bloodshot—well, there’s a broken blood vessel in one, really creepy looking, let me tell you. What with the way you’re snarling at me, I’m almost afraid. If I didn’t think I could probably push you over with my pinky I might actually be worried you’d hurt me.”
Les immediately blanked his expression and tried to shrink down to something less than his mammoth size. There was always such a fine line between trying to be strong and being a bully, and he didn’t ever care to cross it. “I wouldn’t,” he muttered, slumping a little further down the wall as another wave of coughing threatened.
“I know.” Josh patted his arm then looked away and waved another nurse over.
“Misty, give me a hand?” The pretty little nurse glanced at Les and her big blue eyes widened so much Les wondered how they didn’t pop right out of her head. She hurried over and stood on her toes as she pressed her palm to Les’ forehead.
“Oh wow,” she muttered, “not that this is the most accurate method, but you are
burning up, Officer Stanton. Let’s get him to a room.”
Les’ heart thudded in his chest as he realised that yes, he was indeed ill no matter how healthy he tried to be. Misty stepped back and gave him a narrow eyed look as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t tell me, you’re one of those.”
“What…” Les frowned down at the little nurse, trying not to glare since he knew that made him look scary, but God, he wished she wasn’t speaking gibberish. “One of what?”
Misty raked him with a glance that let him know she found him lacking, barely a step above a pile of cold shit. “You know, one of those macho men who can’t get sick because they’re so strong and can’t be conquered by something as trite as a little old virus. A vain moron, in other words.” Josh murmured something Les didn’t hear and jabbed Misty in the ribs. She yelped and batted at his hand then glared at Les.
He hadn’t exactly thought of himself as vain, but whether it was because he was sick or because he wasn’t a big stupid guy, Les understood what Misty meant. And he even kind of agreed, but she didn’t know the why behind his desperate attempts to keep himself healthy, so he thought that kind of made her a vain moron for being so judgmental. And they could go back and forth with that accusation for a month of Sundays.
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“Do I need to get the wheelchair?” Misty asked, her eyes lighting up at either the threat or the anticipation.
“No.” Les forced himself to speak that one little word calmly when all he really
wanted to do was snap. Giving in to his impulse would only give Misty reason to think he was as bad as she accused. “ I’m supposed to be working security…”
Josh muttered under his breath and manoeuvred to Les’ side, hooking his arm around Les’ waist. The little guy felt kind of good there. Les dismissed the thought as one brought on by the fever. He liked Josh just fine, felt protective of the smaller man, and definitely didn’t think Nick deserved him. Didn’t mean Les wanted him, though. It was just hard not to like Josh.
“Come on, the ER is slow, and you can call in someone else to keep an eye on things here,” Josh said as he led Les through the nearly empty room towards the locked orange doors leading to the exam rooms.
“Can’t call someone else, everyone’s sick or sleeping off a double shift.” Les had to work a twelve hour shift as soon as his four hour one ended here at the hospital. The sheriff’s department was extremely short handed and unless you were too sick to stand, you had to show up for your shift.
Josh huffed and opened the orange doors, keying in the code on the pad to the right of them. “Well, you need to be taken care of. If no one else can finish your shift here, we’ll just hope everything stays calm. It isn’t like there’s usually any need for security.”
He grunted as Josh nudged him to sit on the exam bed. Josh had a point, the last time there’d been any excitement in the ER had been when Misty had wheeled Josh in after the poor guy had tripped and banged himself up all to hell. Everyone had thought Josh had been beat up at the time and there’d been some seriously short fuses between the staff here at the hospital and Justin and Nick, the men who’d brought Josh in for treatment.
Les figured it was a good thing he’d stayed calm and hadn’t jumped to the wrong
conclusion. Josh would have been pissed if Les had decked Nick or Justin.
“I have to work this evening,” Les said as he sat on the bed, grimacing at the sound the sterile paper covering made as he slid his butt back. “No one else is available.”
Instead of lecturing, Josh nodded and waved Misty, who’d trailed in behind them,
back out of the room. “I’ve got this. See if Doctor Velez is available, would you?”
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