Haven 1: How to Save a Life (29 page)

The police had searched all the floors and the basement for any sign of how he’d gotten out without being seen. They’d opened each room. Checked the bathroom and cabinets, just as the security staff had done before their arrival. They’d gone through the basement, which was made up of a series of supply rooms Vargas had built over the years. Each room locked with a security panel similar to the ones on the exterior doors. No one had been in or out of the rooms. They’d also searched the kitchen and its two walk-in coolers and the food storage pantry. They’d watched the security footage from outside the club at every fire escape and also viewed the footage at the main door, the employee entrances, and the delivery doors. They’d checked the surrounding buildings, and still the police had uncovered no sign of Dylan, Prescott, or how he’d escaped the security team.

During the cops’ search, Walter and Kevin had been checked out by the EMTs, who’d insisted they go to the hospital for a more thorough exam. Before they’d left for the hospital, they’d also given their statements to the police.

Vargas had turned over his membership file on Prescott, and by the time Kevin and Walter were getting looked at by a doctor, the police were headed to Prescott’s home address. Even though he wasn’t officially on the case, Gibson had promised to update Walter as soon as he knew more.

When Kevin had been cleared by the ER doc, Walter had filled him in on the progress, or lack thereof. The police had found no sign of Prescott.

But the rest of the news Gibson had shared…Walter couldn’t tell Kevin that. Not yet.

Walter’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he made another turn. He caught a tire on the edge of the curb, and the car jerked. He forced his attention on the street ahead of them. Not easy to do right then.

When he’d seen that fucker touching Kevin, he hadn’t been that scared, felt that helpless since he’d sat beside Gary’s hospital bed and watched him slip away.

And he’d never wanted his GLOCK in his hand so damn much since the shooting at the convenience store.

Now he wanted to reach across the front seat of the car and pull Kevin to him, show him how much he needed to feel him, to know Kevin was alive and breathing and right there with him.

Instead he continued his death grip on the steering wheel and watched Kevin out of the corner of his eye.

Kevin was blaming himself. That much had been obvious by the way he’d reacted when he’d first heard Dylan had gone missing, and how silent he’d grown since they’d left the hospital.

Finally Kevin spoke without looking Walter’s way. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“Oh. Right.” He switched to staring out the side window, his forehead pressed to the glass again. “They’re not going to find Dylan, are they?”

“We know who we’re looking for now. We’ll find him, and this will all be over soon.”

What Walter didn’t say was he hoped the lead investigators would help and actually look for Prescott, but he wouldn’t mention anything Gibson had told him about the new detectives working the case. Or about what else Walter had learned by the time they’d left the hospital.

Later. Once Kevin had a chance to get some distance from the night’s events. Once the shock had worn off some.

Kevin gave a slight nod. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back to the headrest.

Walter drove into his building’s parking garage and cut the engine. The quiet lingering between them was more noticeable without the air-conditioning running. Kevin hadn’t lifted his head, hadn’t said another word.

They sat in the silence for a minute, the temperature inside the car rising.

Walter reached out and brushed the hair back at Kevin’s temple. The light brown hair was longer now than when they’d met. “We’re home.”

Kevin lifted his head and met Walter’s gaze. His lower lip trembled, and tears filled his eyes. “When I saw Dylan sprawled on the floor of that elevator…all I could see was…” He clenched his jaw shut.

“I know.” Walter raked his fingers through Kevin’s hair again, wishing he could take back every horrible thing Kevin had witnessed in his life, starting with tonight. “Let’s get inside. Get you cleaned up.”

Kevin nodded. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of both hands, scrubbing harder than necessary.

Once inside the apartment, Kevin paused in the entryway like he couldn’t take another step, either forward or back.

“Come on.” Walter slipped a hand into Kevin’s.

Kevin didn’t ask where they were going. He just followed down the hall to the bathroom. Walter undressed him, letting his hands linger over the bare skin of Kevin’s chest, his arms, running his fingers tentatively through his hair, checking for injuries. What did he think? The nurses and doctors and scans had missed something he’d feel with his fingertips? He couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re sure your head is okay?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t even hurt now.”

That could be because he was still in shock, still numb, but Walter held back on suggesting that. Instead he pulled Kevin forward into his arms and held him. He hadn’t meant for the action to be so sudden or fierce. He hadn’t meant for it to force a rush of air out of Kevin.

He just needed to hold him. Nothing sexual about it.

They stood still for several breaths, one dressed, the other naked.

Walter ran a hand over Kevin’s bare back. “You take a shower, and I’ll fix you something to eat.” Reluctantly he took a step away.

Kevin tensed. “Don’t go.”

The whispered words as Kevin came into his arms again nearly melted the last of Walter’s resolve to keep from utterly and completely feeling what he swore in the beginning he could not feel for Kevin. Not for someone that young.

Walter tugged his own shirt out of his pants, unbuttoned it, then finished undressing as Kevin watched him. When he was naked, Walter opened the shower door and cranked on the showerhead. The steady beat of the water on the tub floor sliced through the silence of the bathroom. He gestured for Kevin to get in first, then joined him.

If Walter had any lingering doubts about what he felt for Kevin, the sensual way he worked the lather between his palms and washed Kevin’s body, the deliberate care in those simple touches confirmed it.

The heat of the water running over Kevin’s body, the scent of the soap, the warmth of Kevin’s skin under his fingers…it all grounded Walter to the moment, to the fact that Kevin was there with him, that he hadn’t ended up seriously hurt. Or worse.

He washed Kevin’s hair, and when the last of the shampoo rinsed down the drain, Walter drew him close, Kevin’s back to his chest. He held him until the water became tepid. Then he turned them as one so he could crank the water off, but he stopped short when Kevin spoke.

“He’s a hero.” The words left Kevin slowly, like he didn’t have the energy to speak faster—or maybe he didn’t want to.

“Who?” Walter asked.

“Prescott. We ran a piece about him last year. He saved their lives.”

“Saved who?”

“Those twin girls from that warehouse fire on East Madison. Five homeless people were killed. He carried those girls out right before the roof collapsed. There was a picture of him in the paper, and I remembered his name. Thought it sounded like a funny name for a firefighter. When you’d said you interviewed him, I about laughed. No way a guy like him was involved in this, so I didn’t mention the fire. God, how many different ways can I fuck this up?”

Walter held him tighter against his chest. “Kevin, that story about the fire would’ve just confirmed what I thought about him—that he was a good guy. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been trying to help these men—men you’ve never met before. That’s more than most people would even think of doing. You tried saving Dylan. You’re the hero. Not Prescott.”

Kevin faced Walter and searched his eyes. Then Kevin dropped his gaze lower and tentatively touched Walter’s neck. The bruising had already been turning an ugly shade of purple earlier at the hospital when Walter had gotten a look at himself. Kevin said, “I was so scared. The way he looked… I was…” He pulled away, turned in to the spray of the water, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Walter leaned in again, pressing his chest to Kevin’s back once more. “It’s okay. Just let yourself feel whatever you need to.”

“I could see it in his eyes.”

“That he wanted you?”

“That he wanted to kill you.” Kevin spun to face him. Standing on his toes, he wrapped his arms around Walter. He clung to him, plastering his whole body against him.

“Hey, I’m all right.” Walter eased the palms of his hands down Kevin’s back. “I’m okay.”

They said nothing more as they stood there under the cooling stream of water until Kevin’s hold relaxed. Walter turned off the shower, and they got out. After he dried them both off, they headed to the bedroom. Walter went to the dresser in search of clothes, keeping an eye on Kevin.

Kevin sat on the bed beside Charlie. He patted the dog’s head once, and then his hand fell limp to the bed between him and Charlie as if every ounce of energy had been zapped from his body. Walter slipped on a pair of jeans and tossed Kevin sweats and a T-shirt.

When Kevin was dressed, he sat again. He gave Charlie another slow, drawn-out pat and dropped his palm flat to the bed once more. He stared at the bedspread beside his hand like he couldn’t figure out the name of the item he touched. “We aren’t going to find Seth, are we? He’s dead. And so is Dylan.”

“My gut says not yet.” Walter leaned back against the dresser, waited, considered his words and how best to tell Kevin what he’d learned from Gibson. “I think he’s got them alive somewhere.”

Although there was still a chance that wasn’t true, and he’d been fooling himself, dragging Kevin along with him through that place where hope lives because to accept anything else would be too…impossible.

“And your gut is never wrong.” It wasn’t a question.

“It has been once or twice.”

“It wasn’t wrong about me. That I was ready for this.” Kevin gestured between them, finally moving with more vigor.

Walter unfolded his arms, aching to go to Kevin, to say things he was fairly certain neither of them needed to hear right then. Or maybe they did. Drops of water from Kevin’s wet hair dripped down the sides and back of his neck, landing on the collar of his T-shirt. Walter fought the urge to capture those drops with his fingers, to run his hands through the wet strands of hair. “No, I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Kevin nodded. “Do you have a gun?”

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

He shrugged. “Tucker had a gun at the club. I didn’t.” And just like that, Kevin returned to the fidgety, frenzied man Walter had first met. He got up. “Where’s my phone? I have to go. I have to check my messages. Call Myles. Write up a piece for tomorrow’s paper.” He ticked off each item on his fingers as he talked.

“You can’t write about this now.”

Kevin halted in the bedroom doorway, his forefinger paused in the air midcount. “The cops were called. There will be more than just me on this story now. I’ve got an inside angle. I need to write something before someone else gets…” His words trailed off, and he turned away. He hurried into the hall. Walter followed.

The shock had passed, and Kevin was back to avoiding. Staying busy. Never stopping moving. Never thinking too much. Walter waited outside the bathroom as Kevin made a stop to grab his phone from his pants they’d left on the floor. He had retrieved the phone from the cops at the Haven earlier, and other than to check if it still worked, this was the first time in the last few hours he’d even looked at the phone. Kevin slid by Walter and continued down the hall, then paced the living room while he kept on texting.

Walter stood at the edge of the room and waited, giving Kevin a minute to calm down. Obviously a lost cause.

“Kevin, you were attacked. You need to get some sleep before you do anything.” Walter pointed to the couch. “At least sit down.” He went into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked from the other room.

Walter searched the contents of the refrigerator and called back to him. “Getting you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat. I have to go.” Kevin came into the kitchen. He stared at Walter for a minute more and then headed for the apartment door.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Walter seized his arm and pulled him to a stop before he made it to the door. He tried adding a teasing tone to his voice despite the sincerity of his words. “You are not going anywhere.”

Kevin’s next move was the last thing Walter expected. Maybe that’s why his eye socket was on the receiving end of a fist for the second time since he’d met Kevin.

Before Walter could get out a curse this time, Kevin had him pushed to the floor in the apartment’s entryway. He straddled his hips, holding Walter down by his shoulders. No, not holding him down, more like slamming him into the floor.

“Why?” Kevin yelled. There was fury and hurt in those eyes staring down at Walter. Another slam. “Why, goddamn it?”

Without fighting back, Walter tried to fend him off.

Rage poured out of Kevin everywhere. His voice. His hands. The hard, angry gaze he had aimed at Walter. “Why?”

“Why what?”

He slammed Walter shoulders into the hardwood floor yet again. “Why did you do it?”

“Why did I do what?”

“Talk me into this deal with you. Make me wait. I could’ve written something by now. Then Dylan would’ve known about the danger at the club. Everyone would have. He would’ve known not to go there. He would’ve had the fucking car keys and he wouldn’t have died.”

All at once, Kevin stilled. He slid off Walter and scrambled away until he sat with his back against the opposite wall in the entryway, breathing heavily. “Oh God. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” As soon as Walter caught his breath, he swung around to sit beside him. “I get it. It’s okay.”

Kevin had his lower lip pinched between his teeth, a slight tremor in that lip.

Walter wrapped an arm around his shoulders and brought Kevin to him. “Dylan is not Jeff. He’s not dead. Prescott’s not getting away with this. This was not your fault. And neither was Jeff’s death.”