Isle of Waves (27 page)

“Have you seen the prices in there?”

“Yes,” Wig said. “Yes, I have. And if you take me there you can throw in a butt plug with that ball gag.”

Nibs pinched Wig’s butt. “I like the way you think.”

Steve groaned loudly, but Wig ignored him. For today, the rest of them could go suck a dick—but not on company time.

“A
NOTHER
COLD
one, babe?” Wig waved the bottle of water at Nibs.

“I’d rather have a beer.”

Wig shook his head. “You’re limited to one only. Doctor’s orders.” He waggled the bottle of water at Nibs, ignoring his scowl.

“You’ve turned into a tyrant since we went to the diabetic clinic. You’d better come here and deliver my bottle personally.” Nibs patted his lap.

Wig shut the door of the fridge and bounced over to his fiancé. “My pleasure.” He curled up on Nibs’s lap and buried his face in his neck, flickering out his tongue to get a taste of him.

“You could have got us all a refill,” Paul complained. He was curled around Skandik in their large armchair.

“He’s my slave, not yours,” Nibs said. “Get your own beer.”

Wig thought about using his fingers or his elbows to make Nibs pay for that remark, but he was too comfortable.

“Get me one while you’re up, little bro,” Sam said.

“And me.” Liam sighed happily as Sam kissed him.

Paul eyed them all with dislike. “You’re dicks, the lot of you.”

“We know.” Sam didn’t sound concerned.

“How long are you staying for this time?” Nibs asked Skandik.

“Two weeks. Paul was feeling needy and begged me to stay longer.”

Paul stuck out his tongue. “It means we have to go longer between visits, but at least I get some quality time with him.” Skandik kissed him as he sat back down with the beers.

“So what did the clinic say?” Skandik asked.

Nibs pulled a face. “Consider it a warning, blah blah. Eat rabbit food, don’t get stressed, shorten your hours.” He scowled as Paul burst out laughing.

“Have you told them what you do?”

Wig flipped Paul the bird. “Nibs has me looking after him now. And Steve and Ben.”

“And us,” Liam said.

“It’s liked being smothered by the gay mafia,” Nibs said. “Wig’s got everyone involved. Ben monitors my hours, Steve charts what I eat. He’s got me on a low-carb diet. Frickin’ rabbit food.”

“You mean mothered,” Wig said.

“No, I really didn’t.”

“Stop moaning. You’ve even lost some weight.” Wig patted Nibs’s belly.

“Way to go, Nibs,” Paul said. “You should get Sam on this diet. He’s starting to look a right porker.”

“No, I’m not,” Sam said indignantly.

“So you’re settled in Rose’s, then?” Skandik hastily changed the subject and looked at Sam and Liam.

“Mostly,” Sam answered, although he still scowled at his brother. “We’ve done all the decorating, and the boiler’s been fixed. We’re living there now.”

“Next time you can look after your brothers instead of us,” Nibs said.

“Don’t you like having us here?” Paul asked plaintively.

“We love having you here,” Wig said. “Especially if you work in the restaurant.”

“Most people don’t expect guests to work their butts off, slaving away in your restaurant.”

“Most people don’t have a revolving door of house guests,” Nibs sniped.

“That’s a fair comment,” Liam said. “We have been almost permanent residents for six months.”

“You work for them.”

“I do. Thanks to Nibs and Wig, I’m not a total moocher.”

“You’ve never been a moocher, babe.” Sam kissed Liam’s cheek.

“We like having you here,” Wig said, “and Skandik. The rest of them, not so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Paul flipped him off.

Wig studied the youngest Owens brother. “You look tired, Paul.”

“It’s been a long month. Nasty case.”

“The Fryer murders?” Sam asked. A family of four had been brutally killed in London. The headlines had dominated the media for weeks.

Paul nodded. “You know about the case?”

“Mum told me.”

“I was the first on the scene.”

“Christ, that must have been awful.”

“It was,” Paul said shortly.

Skandik tightened his arms around Paul. “Easy, sweetheart.”

It was odd for Wig to hear such gentle and caring tones from the usually stoic American.

Paul pressed his lips together. “Sorry, guys, I can’t talk about it.”

“Sure.” Wig leant forward and touched Paul on the knee. “I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories.”

“Not a problem. The bad cases always get to me.”

“I wish I’d been there for you,” Skandik said.

“You were. Skype is a wonderful thing.”

“It’s not the same as being there in person.”

Nibs tightened his arms around Wig, almost spilling his beer.

“Easy, babe,” Wig said.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just thinking how lucky we’ve been, being able to be together from the beginning.” Nibs stroked down the length of Wig’s spine and ended by cupping his butt.

“You’ve been together a long time,” Liam said. “Most couples don’t get that far.”

“And we’ve worked together almost the whole time.” Wig looked down at Nibs mischievously. “Course, he could do with remembering who’s the boss now and then.”

Wig got his butt firmly smacked for that remark.

“I’ve no idea how you’ve managed not to kill each other,” Skandik said.

“Lots of sex.”

“Your recipe for a long relationship is lots of sex?” Liam asked.

“I like that idea,” Sam declared. “We should start now.”

Liam raised his eyebrow. “You want to have sex here and now in front of everyone?”

“I was thinking of it as a concept rather than an actual event,” Sam explained.

“Thank goodness for that. I was concerned you were expecting me to strip off and start fucking.”

“You can if you want.” Paul yawned. “I’m not bothered, and I’m sure Olaf won’t be.”

“Not that I want to rain on your parade or anything,” Skandik said, “but shouldn’t some things be kept private between brothers. It’s Liam and Sam, not Dean and Sam.”

Wig furrowed his brow. “Do you know what they are talking about?” he asked Nibs.

“Not a clue.”

“Oh good, I’m glad it’s not just me.” Wig settled himself against Nibs and drank his beer.

“Are we going to celebrate your birthday, then?” Paul asked.

“If you want.” Wig yawned. His birthday was the next day, and Paul and Skandik were down to help him celebrate. “What do you want to do?”

“Strippers and a nightclub?”

Wig pulled a face. “I know what your idea of strippers is like. Huge fake tits and too much lipstick.”

Paul sighed, ignoring Wig’s scowl. “Ah, good times.”

“No strippers,” Nibs said. “He likes bears, and the only bear that’s stripping for my boy is me.”

“You’re no fun,” Paul complained.

“I need a leak.” Skandik dislodged Paul off his lap and left the room.

Wig looked at Paul. “He doesn’t like the fact you like women, does he?

Paul shook his head. “Nope, but it’s not something I can change. I’m not going to become gay just because I’m with him.”

“I like girls,” Sam said.

Wig stared at him, as did all the others in the room. “Sam, you’ve been a poofter since you were six.”

“Yes, but I like boobs. All the girls at school used to let me fondle their tits because they said I’d never get any.”

“Boobs are great,” Nibs said. “I got to play with a few in my teens until I realized that tits were fine, but I never wanted to go south.”

Wig shuddered. “I’d rather play with moobs than boobs.”

“Ugh.” It was Paul’s turn to shudder. “I hate floppy man boobs.”

“I don’t care as long as they’re attached to a man.” Wig still had nightmares about having to play spin the bottle and being made to feel up Janine West’s breasts in her bedroom.

“Each to his own. I don’t think Col or Dan would want to play with dicks or balls.”

“Where are they tonight? I thought they’d be here to celebrate your birthday,” Paul said.

“Colin’s got a date with Fiona, and Dan is in America,” Nibs said.

“What?” Paul sat up. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because Dan wanted to keep it quiet until he’d actually left, in case it all went wrong.”

“Has he gone to see Tea?”

“Yep. She’s very taken with him.”

“She’s welcome to him.” Paul sniffed. He stood to allow Skandik to sit and flopped over him.

Wig hid his smile from Paul by burying his face in Nibs’s neck. Paul’s differences with his brothers, apart from Sam, were well known. Nibs thought Paul brought it upon himself, but he had the sense to keep his mouth shut around Paul.

Nibs sighed and settled back, rearranging Wig until they were both comfortable. Wig kissed Nibs neck, grazing his lips on the stubble. He slid his hand under Nibs’s T-shirt to rest his hand on Nibs’s furry belly. In spite of the low-level chat around him, Wig dozed off, warm and comfortable, only to wake up at loud banging. He sat up and smacked his head against Nibs’s chin so hard he saw stars.

“Ow! Fuck! What happened?” Wig rubbed his head and glared at Nibs. “Oh, Jesus, you okay?”

Blood was dribbling from Nibs’s mouth. “Bith my tongue,” Nibs mumbled.

“I’ll answer the door,” Paul said, hopping off Skandik’s lap.

“You’d better rinse your mouth out,” Sam suggested to Nibs.

Nibs muttered something indistinguishable as he left the room. Wig blinked several times, hoping the room would stop spinning.

“Are you okay, Wig?” Liam asked.

Wig couldn’t focus on him, but he aimed a wan smile in Liam’s direction. “I think so. Either that or I’m gonna hurl. It’s fifty-fifty at the moment.”

“You hit each other really hard.”

“Yeah.”

Paul walked in with Sergeant Biggs. “Where’s Nibs?” he asked. “There’s news on the break-ins.”

“He’s just rinsing his mouth out to get rid of the blood.”

“Oh?” Biggs’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe.

Wig would have rolled his eyes if he were sure they were going to stay put in his head. Why could police attach so much cynical significance to one word? Did they learn it in police school, train for cynicism on the job? “I smacked him with the top of my head when I woke up. Nibs bit his tongue.”

“I’m here,” Nibs said, sounding more distinct now he didn’t have a mouthful of blood.

“Are you okay?” Wig asked anxiously, ignoring everyone else.

Nibs came over to sit with him. “I’m fine, babe. How’s your head?”

“I’ll let you know when the room stops spinning.”

Nibs explored Wig’s head, combing through his hair with his fingers. “Here, let me feel. Damn, you’ve got an egg in there. Do you need to go to hospital?”

Before Wig could respond, Biggs came over. “Let me have a
look.”

He was lucky he didn’t get his arm snapped. Under normal circumstances, Nibs got very funny about people—men—touching his boy. This time Nibs just sat back and let the policeman look at the damage on Wig’s head.

“I think you’ll live,” Biggs said. “If the dizziness gets worse or you keep being sick, then you should go to hospital.”

“Cheers.” Wig leant against Nibs who put his arm around him.

“Why are you here?” Nibs said.

“We have some news on the break-ins. We’ve charged two men with attempted murder and breaking and entering.”

It wasn’t hard for Wig to guess who it was. The smug glee on Biggs’s face gave it away. “The cousins of Mr. Sawar, the waiters?” Wig asked.

Biggs nodded. “We got an anonymous tip-off at the start of the week, and the two men confessed when we picked them up. They looked almost relieved.”

Wig huffed. “Why did they try to burn us down?”

“The petrol was intended to frighten you. They never intended to use it.”

“So what were they going to do when they broke in?”

“Just cause some more damage and leave the fuel behind as a warning.”

Wig shuddered, and Nibs held him closer against him.

“Why did they do it?” Paul asked. “I’m still having a hard time believing Ghuram’s not involved.”

Biggs shook his head. “They both say he knew nothing about it. They thought they’d be ‘helpful,’ speed the process along a little. Once you were out of the picture, the restaurant would expand. They’d been promised promotion. They just weren’t thinking. I do believe they never meant to do anything except scare you. You were just standing in the way of what they wanted.”

Wig snorted derisively.

“What happens next?” Skandik asked.

“They’re remanded in custody until Monday when they’re due in court. I think they’ll both plead guilty.”

“I wonder who gave the tip-off,” Nibs said.

Biggs shrugged. “They called Crime Stoppers. It’s anonymous.”

“You think it was Ghuram or Khalil?”

“I really couldn’t say,” Biggs said blandly. “Anyway, just wanted to keep you posted. Good night. Keep an eye on that head.”

“I’ll show you out,” Paul said and followed Biggs out of the room.

“Well there’s a surprise—not,” Wig said. His dizziness had almost stopped and was morphing into a pounding headache. He rubbed his temples and wished he hadn’t, as a wave of nausea rushed over him.