Devil's Own (17 page)

But then Florian laughed, loudly and scornfully, staring somewhere above Niall. “You missed, Tia. Guess your heart knows the truth. You don’t want to kill me.”

Looking down at Niall, Florian grinned and raised the knife again—and another shot came, sounding closer this time, a different note to the weapon.

Florian twitched violently as he hovered over Niall. His eyes grew impossibly wide, surprised. Then his fist opened, and his knife came clattering down on the stone altar, mere inches from Niall’s face. Florian stepped back, staggering, and a spot just under his clavicle grew dark red.

“SPD! Hands up, Talbot! You’re under arrest! Give it up, man. You’ve got nowhere to go. You’re surrounded.”

Niall was delighted to hear Hughes’s familiar rumbling voice, and though Florian Talbot was still not apprehended or dead, Niall dared to take a trembling, relieved breath.

Florian grimaced, and a low-pitched growl emerged from his throat. But then he seemed to lose his footing, and he fell down on one knee, then both. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his jaw fell open, as if he was astonished at the end result of the situation.

Finally, like a falling tree, he keeled over, face-first, in the dirt.

Holding himself up by his quivering elbows alone, Niall settled down on his back on the altar, just focusing on breathing and assessing his injuries. His throat was sore and bruised, the back of his head throbbed from whatever Florian had used to incapacitate him, and his whole body felt like he had gone through twelve rounds with a pro boxer.

“You okay, kid?” Hughes came to stand near him, touching his shoulder with obvious concern. Yet Niall heard him shout out commands to check Talbot’s pulse—unfortunately, the fiend still had one—and get the paramedics to the scene ASAP. There was a commotion around Niall. Hughes and Gus indeed had not come alone but with a whole host of police officers.

Gus. Where’s my Gus?

Blinking, he struggled to get his swirling brain back into its normal state so he could move without needing to bend over a bush and hurl out what was left of his stomach contents.

Immediately, as he tried to get up, a warm, tentative touch on his chest kept him down. “Don’t move, Niall. The EMTs are gonna check you out first.” Niall relaxed as his lover’s company made him feel safe and serene.

“You scared the shit out of me, kid,” Niall reproached Gus, keeping his eyes closed again to ward off the sick feeling in his gut. “Jumping on Talbot like that. Fucking insane.”

“Don’t
you
talk to me about insane!” Gus hissed close to Niall’s ear, his hot coffee-scented breath wafting over Niall in warm puffs. “Don’t you ever do anything even remotely like this to me again.” Niall felt a pang of guilt. Gus sounded worried out of his mind.

He tried for levity, opening his eyes to see his lover. “So, does this count as a Beltane love chase, babe?”

Gus shot him a furious glance. “That’s not funny in any way, shape, or form, you dumbass.” From the way his eyes gleamed in the light and his jaw quivered, it was clear to Niall his boyfriend was on the verge of a full-blown snot-and-blubbering episode. Appreciating humorous jests wasn’t on the agenda.

With a gentle tug, Niall pulled Gus into a hug and crooned softly in his ear, “I’m sorry, babe. That was tacky and insensitive of me. Please forgive me.”

The tiniest sob escaped from Gus, and Niall felt wet breath against his neck. “God, I hate you so much right now.” Yet Gus held onto Niall tighter as he spoke the words.

With no outspoken declarations, it was silently understood by both of them that it was love that hung heavy and heartfelt between them. Niall let that epiphany sink into the core of his very being and make a home there.

“You know, Gus, this was meant to be,” Niall said soothingly.

Still clinging to Niall’s shoulders and back with the tightness of a straitjacket, Gus scoffed, incredulous. “How do you figure that?”

Niall sighed contentedly. “This was fate, inevitable, a karmic balance type of thing. I mean, last time we were in trouble together, I saved you. Now it was your turn to rescue me. We’re on equal footing now. True partners.”

Blinking, Gus drew back from the embrace, tears making his eyes shimmer and glow, and he seemed to have trouble swallowing as he gulped almost audibly. His voice was hoarse from constrained sobbing and emotions as he said, “I kind of like that.”

“Knew you would, beautiful.” Niall made sure his self-confident smirk exuded enough sex appeal to seduce a monk to sin. As if reading all the salacious thoughts going through Niall’s mind, Gus blushed deeply, visible even in the dark of the evening.

“You’re incorrigible,” Gus whispered, leaning closer to Niall’s ear. Niall shuddered hard when suddenly, a hot, slick tongue licked the shell of his ear once, fleeting as the wind. When Gus withdrew, his expression was mischievous.

Niall found himself chuckling, feeling bruised and battered, yet on top of the world. How this one man, this handsome and laid-back Wiccan shopkeeper, could relax and entice him so much was a mystery he was looking forward to solving.

“Do I even wanna know, guys?” Hughes asked, returning to Gus and Niall’s side, one eyebrow raised comically, his mouth curving into an amused grin.

“My boyfriend is tempting me, the wounded man, to sin,” Niall replied cheekily.

Gus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in obvious silent protest.

“Is it working?” Hughes asked, winking at Niall, who just had to laugh at that. Shaking his head, Gus said nothing. “Okay, you two. Valentine, you’re being hauled to the hospital for a full workup. Not a fucking word.” He brought up his hand to silence any and all of Niall’s objections, so Niall sighed in resignation and nodded his reluctant compliance. “Gus, you can drive with me. I’ve got to make sure Talbot’s injuries aren’t severe, so we’re headed in the same direction.” Then he gave an inquiring look at Niall. “Want me to call your dad?”

The mere thought of Owain, Niall’s retired detective father, made the knot in Niall’s stomach uncoil. He nodded firmly. “Yeah. I don’t want him to worry.” Then he looked at Gus, who all of a sudden seemed a bit unsure. “Ready to meet my dad, babe?”

Niall was sure it was the question mixed with the endearment that made Gus smile like the sunrise itself. “Absolutely,” Gus replied, positively buzzing with excitement.

Considering Niall didn’t exactly have a habit of bringing guys home to meet his father, who had the eyes of a hawk and who could smell a lie a hundred feet away, Niall had assumed he would feel nervous about his stoic police father and his excitable neo-pagan boyfriend coming together. But now, Niall realized he had nothing to fear. It would be a miracle if Owain didn’t take a fancy to Gus, same as everyone else.

I’m the luckiest private dick in the world
. To that thought Niall unwound and let the paramedics arriving at the scene prod and probe him to their hearts’ content.

Just before he was carted off into the back of the ambulance, though, he thought he spied a familiar face in the shadows. But then the doors slammed shut and hid the outside view.

“Y
OU
MUST
be Gus Goodwin. My son has told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

From the hospital bed—where he absolutely did not wish to be—Niall watched as Gus blushed and smiled endearingly at Niall’s father, Owain Valentine. Owain was in his sixties, but he had a sporty look about him, removing years from his appearance. Niall knew his father still lifted weights and went out for runs in the evening, and he hoped he would be even half as active when he reached his golden years. Owain’s eyes were deeper blue than Niall’s grayish blue, and his hair was still half-black and half-gray, as if time itself was reluctant to touch a hair on the man’s head. As was his minimalist custom, he wore simple slacks, a button-down with no tie, and a light suit jacket.

Gus and Owain shook hands cordially.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Mr. Valentine,” Gus said in his amiable way. “Niall has mentioned you from time to time. It’s good that we managed to come together, even under these, um, weird circumstances.” His gaze flickered over to Niall, his eyes narrowing as if he held Niall personally responsible for putting them in this situation, where a perfectly good night they could have spent together was wasted in an uncomfortable hospital bed with zero privacy.

Owain chuckled. “I’m sure he has. My son is such a motormouth.”

Niall rolled his eyes with a feigned grimace. Gus laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, you’ve noticed that about him too.” He shook his head as though he were completely forlorn at the prospect of his lover changing his ways.

Niall exhaled in capitulation. “Okay, okay. Sure, fine, whatever. Take potshots at the injured man, why don’t you?”

Gus snorted. “Since you keep getting us in these situations, we’re allowed to do just that.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“Yup.” Gus’s chin lifted in obvious defiance, and Niall had to admit it was a good look for him, sexy as hell. Then Gus turned his attention back to Owain, apparently not wishing to leave the man out of the conversation. Niall appreciated the hell out of his consideration. “Mr. Valentine, has anyone told you what happened?”

“Please, call me Owain.”

Gus smiled. “Okay. Owain. And please call me Gus.” Niall could have teased his man about his real name, August, but he knew Gus wasn’t overly fond of people knowing that about him, so he kept his mouth shut.

Owain nodded back to Gus. “To answer your question, Gus, yeah, Hughes filled me in on your latest… adventure.” Niall felt the parental scolding in his tone, and his cheeks caught fire.

“Ooh, a good choice of words,” Gus cut in, lowering his voice to a stage whisper and leaning toward Owain in a conspiratorial manner. “I had several worse synonyms in mind, but I think I’ll reserve them for a more private setting.”

Niall’s eyes widened at the realization his guy was going to chew him a new asshole when they got home—and not in the pleasant sense either. That should have worried him, but it didn’t. Instead, it made Niall feel loved.

“Apparently Florian Talbot is going to survive,” Gus said to both Niall and Owain, even though Niall, at least, already knew the details. “He was shot just below the clavicle, nowhere near his heart. Well, not
that
near anyway. He was still in surgery a while back, but the doctor dropped by to tell us the results about fifteen minutes ago. Is Detective Hughes going to join us?”

Owain nodded. “Once he finishes his paperwork.” He grinned at Niall in that familiar way Niall liked. “You know him. Always bitching about proper reporting.”

“It’s the typing he hates,” Niall cut in, chuckling. “Those stubby fingers and keyboards aren’t the best of friends.”

Owain laughed. “Too true.” He turned to Gus. “So, Florian Talbot is going to jail for a long time once he’s out of the hospital bed.”

Gus pursed his lips, obviously angry. “I hope he gets life.”

“That, or the death penalty,” Owain agreed. “There’s a wealth of evidence against him. And he was apprehended red-handed, literally, while committing a crime and attempting to commit more crimes.” Owain’s concerned gaze flicked over Niall in that fatherly way that told Niall just how worried his old man had been to hear about his adventure. But he soon returned his attention to Gus, and this time admiration and caring shone in his eyes. “It seems I have you to thank for saving my son’s life, Gus.”

Hedging, Gus flushed scarlet, and Niall tried not to laugh out loud. God, how good his boyfriend looked all bashful and yet beaming. “Oh, I didn’t do much.”

Niall scoffed. “Yeah, right. Not only did you figure out where Talbot took me after he had Tasered me in the tunnels, but you also cut the ropes that held me down, and then, like a maniac, you jumped on Talbot’s back to beat the shit out of him.”

Red in the face and neck, Gus looked even more embarrassed, perhaps unaccustomed to such direct and high praise. “All in a day’s work.” He downplayed his role in the rescue. He faced Owain. “Florian took Niall to a remote corner of Madison Park, where he had another mansion and estate. Beyond that, there’s a tiny island, separated by the waters, where he had built this altar to… to his dark desires.”

Owain cocked his head, which told Niall he was thinking things through. “So you’re not convinced he had the shrine out of any true belief in Satan?”

Gus shook his head. “No. Everything he did was a perversion, a twisted version of true Satanism.” He sighed sadly, as though he actually felt sorry for the whole situation. Niall found that interesting and revealing of the man’s sympathetic character. “No, Florian Talbot is just evil, pure and simple. A bad man who had decided to kill and used a new religious movement to cover up his intentions and purposely blur the lines of sanity. He’s a calculated and methodical killer. He had planned everything far in advance.”

That Niall had to agree with. “Yeah. I mean look at the way he treated Angelina Yates. She was nothing more than an intended witness for Florian’s charade. Florian found a woman of class and social standing, someone the authorities would believe when she claimed Florian was mad and had tried to kill her.”

“So it was all for show,” Owain concluded on his own. “The events of the night of the murder.”

“Yeah. Florian had planned the whole thing. Angelina was the perfect candidate for his amusement, the unwitting accomplice, the—hate to say it—the dupe.” Niall didn’t like calling that intelligent, refined woman such a word, but that was how Florian had seen and used her. Niall recalled the events of that night. “The whole point of Florian going into Angelina’s bedroom covered in blood was to create a scene, to awaken the whole household for Angelina to see them.”

“And it really was Florian the uniformed officers spoke with when they answered the 911 call,” Gus stated matter-of-factly, though shivering slightly. “After that he murdered Titus in the other bedroom.”

“Right.” Niall nodded. “And then Florian locked the door from the inside and left using the secret passage.”