Brainy and the Beast (28 page)

Not that I’d ever had that experience. When I was in high school, I’d dated girls so I wouldn’t have to deal with my big gay reality. But since all two of them had already been my friends, it hadn’t been the typical teenage trauma.

Figuratively smacking myself upside the head, I forced myself to focus on what was happening in front of me. Nestor was looking good, as usual, but I found myself watching Grant way more. The kid had impressed me on the hunting trip, and I was feeling a new respect for him. He really was a good boy.

I smiled. Maybe being an uncle wasn’t so bad after all.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

I jumped when Henry spoke. How the hell had he snuck up on me? I lurched to my feet, and my chair skittered a couple inches.

“Has Gyosa charmed you again?”

“Hey, you got my text.” Duh, obviously. “Wait. What?”

Henry faced the mats, his tight-lipped mug centered on Nestor. I could feel the displeasure radiating off him.

“I brought your spark plugs,” I offered meekly.

“Really.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted next?”

His only response was a grunt and a refusal to face me. I had to restrain myself from yanking on his arm.

“Grant got his first buck,” I offered. “Took it down with one shot. The kid was pretty amazing.”

Henry hummed a nonanswer, though he did send a glance toward my nephew.

“Gonna have the meat here in a couple of weeks. The back strap tastes really good. Course, it takes a special touch to cook it the right way.” The meat along the backbone of a deer was the most tender and flavorful type of venison.

That earned me a sideways glance, anyway. “I’m sure it does.”

Damn it, he hadn’t bitten on my transparent ploy to get him to cook again. The fucker looked good, like he always did. He had on a black wool overcoat, which topped his blazer and tie combo. I was surprised he was wearing a regular tie today instead of a bow tie. Was he getting into the twenty-first century?

“Nice tie.” It really was. The green and blue silk was pretty nice.

“Thanks.”

A couple more minutes went by in silence. We both watched the kids performing a poomsae.

Suddenly I’d had enough. I folded my arms across my chest. “Christ. This boyfriend shit is getting on my nerves.”

That got his attention. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed you working on ‘this boyfriend shit,’ as you call it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“
Oh, yes
. I believe you mentioned you don’t do it too well. In fact, I seem to recall you prefer to have your cake and eat it too.”

“What do you mean by that? And what the hell does that saying even mean, anyway?” I hated feeling stupid.

He pivoted on the ball of his foot. “It means, Nicholas, that you like when I cook you dinner, and you like when I fixed your computer, and, oh, yes”—his voice went to a whisper as he moved in close—“you most definitely like when I fuck you.” He stood up straight again and let his voice go back to normal. “But you still like watching Gyosa’s ass and figuring out how you can nail it!”

“So we’re supposed to be exclusive?” We were practically nose to nose now. Did he really want that? Did I?

“Why would we do that? Why should we work that hard, right?” He looked down that straight nose at me. “Isn’t that how you think?”

“What the fuck? Why are you so pissed? I’m trying, you know.” I just wanted to follow him home and fuck his brains out. And maybe spend some time with him in front of the fire. Was that too much to ask?

“Guys! You want to keep it down?” Suddenly Gyosa was standing right next to us, a dark frown on his face.

I was embarrassed to see the class had finished and a few of the kids were standing there, looking unsure. They milled around, some coming to stand behind Nestor. The rest had apparently gone to the locker room. I saw Grant turn to head that way, but not before he shook his head at me.

“Nice, Uncle Nick.”

Jesus, even Shawn had gotten up from her chair and was watching me. Us. Whatever.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Ramirez.” Henry’s voice was crisp. “I’ll be leaving now. I’m quite sure there’s nothing here for me anyway.”

Son of a bitch
. That somehow hit me like a punch to the chest, especially when he didn’t even bother to look at me when he said it. “Henry. Wait.”

He was out the door before I could think of anything else to say, his long coat flapping behind him.

“Quite a temper on that guy.” Gyosa’s words dropped into the silence, jump-starting the activity around us.

I tried to ignore him. Kids began packing up their belongings.

“You okay, Uncle Nick?” Grant had his bag in his hand and his coat on. He eyeballed Nestor and me with a speculative expression, which I managed to avoid.

I nodded, then sent a searching glance through the door glass. Henry wasn’t visible, so he must have parked his car in the side lot.

“We’re going to head to the car, okay?”

“Yeah. I’m coming too.” I reached for my coat.

Nodding, Grant slung an arm around Shawn and directed her to the door.

“Um, now that you two boys have pretty much ended my class, what do you say we go over to Hanratty’s for a beer?” Nestor gave me a shark grin.

Exasperated, I glared at him. He was partly responsible. Well, maybe he wasn’t—okay, he really wasn’t—but it felt good to think that for a few seconds. “Do you mind? I gotta fix this.” I pulled my parka on, jerking it up over my shoulders. I was fairly sure I’d managed to make Henry feel bad, and I dithered instead of running out the door.

Nestor sidled closer. “What? Why? Doesn’t seem like he wants it fixed, if you know what I’m saying.”

That was it. I was fed up. With him, and with myself. “Dude. Back off.” I held up a hand. “Three months ago I’d have been all over this.” I gestured between us. “All over you. Now?” I was realizing just what Henry’s walking away meant—and while I couldn’t believe I was going to say it, I did. “Now, I think I gotta go.”

Shrugging, Nestor obligingly stepped back. “Whatever. You know where to find me.” With a sardonic arch to his brow, he headed toward the office, waving good-bye to his students.

I hurried out the door. Maybe I could still catch the hot-tempered Dr. Travis. If he’d walked really slowly and hadn’t actually pulled out of the lot.

Of course it was dark outside, since it was almost six o’clock in early December. The L-shaped parking area was a mix of shadow and light, with just two light poles to cover the large space. The front section of the small strip-mall lot had been full when I arrived, and I’d parked my car on the side. Henry would have had to do the same. I hadn’t seen his car heading out, so maybe he was still around, sitting in his car. Maybe he’d had second thoughts and was walking back toward me right at that moment.

And maybe Hugh Jackman was going to call me for a date tomorrow.
As if.

Rough sounds reached my ears right then, strange…almost like—fighting? I hot-footed it around the corner of the building, skidding to a stop when I saw Henry in the middle of a pack of thugs. “
Holy shit
!” My heart stopped a second before restarting in a thunderous beat, spurring me to action. I raced toward them.

They were out in the center of the side lot, and as I approached, I saw there weren’t as many guys as I’d first thought. There were three of them, though, and they had Henry surrounded. One hooded guy had my man in a headlock. The fuckwad was yanking down, trying to get Henry on the ground. Another was tugging at Henry’s arm, being ever so helpful in the attack. The last animal was punching and yelling in combination.

Jesus!
Grant and Shawn were there too, with Grant’s little friend on the ground, crying and cradling her cheek. My nephew knelt next to her, shielding her from stray kicks.

“Hey!” I roared it as I ran. “Dickheads! Let him go!”

The one with a hand on Henry’s arm turned at my shout and moved toward me, but the other two were too busy trying to hurt my guy.
Fuckers.

I didn’t waste time on any more conversation. I let my forward momentum carry me into the closest guy, delivering a flying kick that sent him careening into a Chevy Tahoe parked nearby. The asshole’s head banged on the metal, and I felt a fierce satisfaction. He went down with a moan, body thudding on the pavement nicely.

Henry was yelling something, ramming his elbow into the stomach of the guy holding him. That dude was a lot buffer than Henry, so it wasn’t having much effect, unfortunately.

The second moron had turned to face me as soon as I took the first one out. Blood pounding through my body, panting with fear and anger, I wiggled the fingers of my right hand at him. “Come on, dickwad. You want some of what I gave your friend?”

Snarling at me, he reached into the pocket of his oversize Chicago Bears coat. “Hey, faggot, how about some of this?” When he pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open, somehow I wasn’t surprised. And at that point, I was too goddamned angry to care how dangerous he could be.

“Uncle Nick! Look out!”

I could see Grant get up, but there was no way I was taking my eye off the steel in front of me. “Grant, stay back. Get Shawn inside.”

“No! I’m staying! They came here for Shawn, Uncle Nick. They came here for her!”

Dodging a knife swipe from my assailant, I jerked my head toward the building. “Don’t argue with me! Get her inside.”

Harsh whispering ensued, ending quickly in Shawn running toward the dojang.

“Call the cops!” I yelled after her.

Shocking and impressing me at the same time, Grant jumped into the fray. He lashed out with a kick at the guy holding Henry, hitting the punk in the back of one knee.

Screaming in anger, the guy—who I could now see was, unbelievably, Jeff Hastings—wrenched around, yanking Henry along so that he could face Grant.

“Grant!” Fear hit me suddenly, sliding past my anger.

All this happened while the Knife Boy and I slowly danced in a circle. The prick was waving it at me, jabbing it, taunting me with trash talk. “Hey, loser, you and your Jew-lovin’ boy there are gonna get some of this.”

“Fuck off!” I blocked his next lunge, then used a double knife-hand strike—oh, the irony—to knock the blade out of his hand. I followed that with punches to the chest and throat, and the asshole went down for the count. “Racist motherfucker.” I spat on him.

Now Jeffy Boy was looking nervous. I was in front of him, and Grant was flanking him. Henry’s face was red—from anger and probably fear and exertion—but Jeff’s hold on my lover was keeping Henry pretty still. Jeff’s thick arm was wrapped tightly, forcing Henry’s head to tilt at a nasty angle.

My breath whistled in my throat, sounding abnormally loud in my ears. The red haze was clearing from my vision, and I was distressed at the pain I could see in Henry’s expression.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, probably because the dickhead was almost choking him. “These cretins were waiting for that little girl, Nicholas.” He yelped as Jeff yanked a little tighter.

“That’s right, Uncle Nicky. Your faggoty boyfriend hit the nail on the head.” Jeff started backing away from me, darting his eyes from side to side. “When I heard at school that you were living with a faggot, Shelton, I couldn’t believe my ears.” Jeff sent a look of absolute loathing toward my nephew, who answered him with an expression of pure rage.

“Uncle Nick, I didn’t mean to tell. Honest!”

That broke my heart, the anger and sorrow in Grant’s voice. “Don’t worry about it, kid. After all, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” I directed the last few words toward Hastings. “What’s your problem, anyway, Jeff? Afraid a faggot like me is gonna hurt you?”

Moving another few steps toward a car parked in the shadow of the building, Hastings glared at me. “As if, fudge packer.”

Henry stumbled when Jeff yanked again, and I leaped forward a couple of steps on instinct. Henry spoke again, and I felt an unbelievable admiration for his coolheaded behavior. “I can’t quite figure out why this animal is holding me so tightly. Maybe he’s one of us, Nicholas? Perhaps he’s a closet case?” Henry grunted in pain when Hastings rammed a knee into Henry’s lower back in retaliation.

“Shut up, faggot. Shut up!”

I could see Grant moving closer from the side. “You’re pathetic, Hastings. My nephew can take you. He definitely proved that before, didn’t he?” I wanted the asshole’s attention back on me. “Maybe I’ll let him smack you down instead. Wouldn’t that just frost your ass, huh?”

“I could, Uncle Nick.” The kid was nervous, I could tell, but when I shot a quick glance at him, he met my eyes without hesitation. I frowned at him quickly, trying to send a message to stay back.

“Nick, you will not let your nephew get involved any further. He could be hurt!” Henry’s voice was urgent, and he yelped once more as Hastings knocked into one of the cars and Henry hit the large, protruding bumper.

“Sure. Now you call me Nick.” I began stalking closer. There was no way I was letting this prick get into a car with my lover. No. Way. “Listen, Doc. I’m going to take this asshat down, and you are going to scramble to the side when I do. Don’t argue with me.”

I ignored Jeff’s scoffing mutters as I stared at my man. Henry’s Jaguar-blue peepers were hard to read in the semidarkness, but I could see the mulish twist to his lips.

God, I loved the guy.

With a pang that hit in my gut, I felt the thought reverberate through my entire being. Holy Christ, I loved the genius, who was currently being dragged across a parking lot by some racist fuck planning to do God knew what.

I started talking again to distract the mental midget, especially since Grant continued to edge closer. “I’m going to finish this, little man. You won’t even know what hit you.” That seemed to work—at least somewhat. Jeff’s eyes were roving all over the place, and his manner was becoming more agitated. I edged closer as I trash-talked him and got myself within three feet of the man-size high schooler, who topped me by about five inches and anywhere from thirty to fifty pounds, as far as I could see.

Didn’t matter. I was ready to make my move. Had to make my move.