Knave of Broken Hearts (15 page)

What did that say about him?

Sadly, at this moment, it said he’d like the guy to wake up and do it again. That was fucking perverse.

He grasped his erection and squeezed.
Strangle the bloody traitor.
His hand pumped all by itself.
Quit that.
No way was he lying there jerking off next to his heart doctor. He let go and turned his head. A last sliver of moonlight before dawn showed Ken lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head, and long black lashes making dark half-moons against his pale cheeks. His floppy hair half obscured one eye, and his impossibly full lips turned up in a little smile like he was dreaming something good too. Jim’s cock bounced. Maybe they’d shared a dream.

Jesus, stop it!
He sat up and threw his legs, bound by his jeans, over the side of the bed. As he stood, he pulled them up and fastened the fly enough to keep them from sliding off.
Shower.

Bumping into the side of the bed, he staggered in the dark and made it to the bathroom where he closed the door softly, flipped the light, then stripped and turned on the water. As he paused to test the temperature, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the bathroom door. His cock still stood at half-mast. A cock that had been sucked by a dude. Righteously sucked.

Not like it’s the first time.

He sighed and stepped under the water. Kind of lukewarm. This building hated giving up its heat. Still, it felt good. With a few swipes, he lathered some soap and wiped it over his pits and chest, then slid down to the bouncing traitor. Hell, it was his. He could do what he wanted with it. Yeah. He soaped.
No need to think.
More soap.

What the hell.
He leaned against the yellowish tile wall, stroked his cock, and let the memories come. Him and Hiro huddled together reading the yaoi magazines, laughing at the romance but still getting hard. Hiro, with his shy smile and bright eyes, looking up at him from his knees. “I’ll suck you, Jim. Okay? Like in the story?” Yeah, okay. Okay once, twice, twenty times. Every one of those times, Jim told himself he was just making his friend happy. Yeah, as he pumped a gallon of jizz down Hiro’s throat. Then one day Hiro was gone because of Jim, and Jim noticed he wasn’t okay anymore. Two days later Jim had walked out the door of his house and never looked back. Ten years. Not one blow job from a guy in all that time. Not one blow job worth mentioning either. Until last night. Ten years. Had he been okay since then?

Maybe not.

He rinsed his soapy cock, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. What the fuck did he want? Who the fuck was he kidding? What he wanted beamed in his brain and throbbed in his cock.
More.
That’s what he wanted. He dried, grabbed his jeans, and pulled them on. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the bedroom.

Ken sat on the edge of the bed, his head flopped in his hand, black hair falling over his forehead. When Jim walked in, Ken looked up, his face a mask of pain and confusion. “What the hell happened to me?”

“Some guy at a club slipped you a roofie.”

“Jesus. I vaguely remember going to some half-assed, hole-in-the wall club and meeting up with some guys. But how did I get here?”

Jim stared. Well, hell, had he dreamed the whole thing? “Uh, you called me. Asked me for help.”

“I did?”

He let his breath out very slowly. “Yeah. I was pretty surprised too, but I found you on the ground under a tree, so it’s a good thing you managed to call.”

“Shit, it’s like somebody washed and rinsed my brain. I keep reaching for stuff, but nothing. So, what happened to me that I wound up under a tree?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but those guys were pretty intent on getting you back, so I don’t think they got to do whatever they had in mind.”

It felt like Ken’s eyes could see through him. “Three guys? One of them really big?”

“Yeah.”

“So how is it that they didn’t carry out their nefarious plans?”

Jim shrugged. “They were better at talking than fighting.”

“And I called you.” It wasn’t a question.

Jim nodded.

“I must have more brains than I thought. Thanks for saving me.”

Jim managed a half smile. “Any time.”
He doesn’t remember.

Ken squinted toward the window, where very soft light had begun to show. “What is it? Morning?”

“Last I checked.”

“Shit. I have patients. Do you think I could bother you for one more favor? I wonder what the chances are that my car is still parked in Costa Mesa?”

“You’d have to hurry. I need to be at work soon.”
Heart hammering. Not good.

“Yeah. Okay. Just let me pee and wash my face.”

“Sure.” With a shrug, Jim tried to loosen his rock-rigid shoulders.

Ken stood, staggered, and fell back on the bed.

Know how that feels.
“Need some help?”

“No. I hope to be able to conquer walking at any moment.” His head slid into his hands again.

“Here, let me give you a boost.” Jim slid an arm under Ken’s, wrapped around that slim, muscled back, and lifted.
Don’t think about how he feels against your side.

Ken’s head lolled for an instant against Jim’s shoulder, then was gone. “God, you’re strong.”

That was so far from the truth. He balanced Ken on his feet and supported his walk toward the bathroom. Once in the doorframe, Ken’s beautiful brown/black eyes gazed at Jim. “Thanks. I’ll try to take it from here.”

Ken managed the few steps into the tiny bathroom and closed the door.

Jim walked backward and sat hard on the edge of the bed.
Nothing. The guy remembered nothing. Made sense. Wasn’t the date rape drug supposed to mess with your memory? It’s for the best. What the hell were you planning? An hour of getting your cock sucked? You gotta go to work. Remember priorities, for crap’s sake.
He stood and grabbed his boots, sat again and pulled them on to the sound of running water and creaky old pipes
. Is it possible it didn’t happen? Could I have made it up?
Didn’t matter. The end result was the same. If Tanaka had sucked his cock, he’d forgotten it completely, and now he didn’t even look at Jim like maybe he’d like to give him a blow job.

He dropped his head into his hands, kind of like Ken had a few minutes before. Felt like somebody hollowed out his chest, then overfilled it with cement. He sucked in a breath.
Shit!

What the fuck do I care? I’m straight.
In one move he stood, raised a fist, and gave the door a pound. “Hurry up, doc. I gotta get to work.”

K
EN
STARED
out the windshield as the guy pulled aside the gate of the car impound lot to let him exit. What a total fuckup he was. Drugged and left in the dirt. At least his car was only towed, not stripped.

The car lot guy waved him through, and he pulled out onto Harbor Boulevard and pointed toward home. He had to take a shower and get the stink of that club off him before he could see a patient. Jim had only given him a minute. He’d barely splashed water on his face. He’d called his office manager and told her to apologize but postpone his first two appointments. Still, he had to hurry.

Accelerating toward the ocean, he cranked up the air conditioner and took deep breaths. Man, he felt bad. Even a little of that drug made him queasy and empty-headed, but those were just the physical effects. What did Jim think of him?
Loser
spelled out in big letters across Ken’s forehead. Used and abused. When he woke up in that bed, he’d panicked for a minute. Then Jim Carney walked in, and Ken’s whole body lit up like kindling that just got close to a match. That guy did it for him.

The phone buzzed in his pocket and then rang on the car Bluetooth. He glanced at the screen.
Well, shit.
“Tanaka.”

“Ken, thank God. What happened to you? I’ve been so worried. When you left the club, I thought you didn’t like our music, but then I tried to call and got no answer.”

Ken narrowed his eyes and glanced at the touchscreen like he could see the little shit. “Yeah, right, Mickey. As if you didn’t know that your fucking friends tried to drug me.”

“Drug? No way, man. They’d never do something like that.”

“I heard them making plans to gang bang me, asshole.” His memory might be fuzzy, but that detail stood out. “You trying to say you knew nothing about it?”

There was a pause. Mickey’s voice sounded deadly serious. “No way, man. You gotta believe me. I never thought anyone I know would do something like that. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need help? What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone.”

“I wish you wouldn’t ask me to leave… I really like you, man.”

Was it possible the guy didn’t know what his friends had planned? How could they hope to drug Ken and not let Mickey know? “I’ve got to get to work.”

“No, wait. Don’t hang up.”

Ken paused with his finger over the End button. “Yeah.”

“Will you go out with me Saturday? My treat. Dinner someplace nice, a show. Please, let me prove to you I’m not involved in whatever they tried to do—and I’m so terribly sorry about it.”

Ken sighed and didn’t even attempt to hide it. He didn’t want to go out with Mickey Okuwa.
And who do you want to go out with?
Not gonna happen. Jim Carney might have come to his rescue, but the guy couldn’t wait to get him out of his house. Sometimes Jim acted like he was attracted to Ken, but if he was, he sure wasn’t admitting it to anyone—like himself.
Get over it, asshole.
Maybe Mickey really was innocent. Hell, he’d had the balls to call. Dinner with Mickey would make his mother happy, and that might keep her off his back for a while. “Okay, text me where to meet you. I’ll take my own car.”

He hung up and stopped at the light at Pacific Coast Highway, staring at the sun glinting off the waves. How the hell did his sex life get this complicated? Easy answer. Mama-san. Because she’d refused to accept he was gay, he’d settled himself into a pattern of banging every guy he saw and not thinking past it—since clearly he had no future. Now, with his orientation not only accepted but embraced by his dear, meddling mother, he needed to make life decisions.
And what decisions are you making, dear boy?
When the crap hit the fan, he’d called Jim Carney. Big, hunky, blue-collar, straight Jim Carney. His mother’s worst nightmare.

He accelerated through the light and turned left into his condo complex. The fact that his mother would hate Jim was probably the very reason Ken liked him. Choose somebody as inappropriate as possible.

Yeah, just keep telling yourself that.

J
IM
BARGED
into the suite, unfolded the plans, and started measuring for framing—all by himself. Okay, so he was an hour earlier than his crew, but what the fuck? He wanted to get a jump on the day.
Yeah, and you didn’t want to talk to Ken Tanaka.

They’d driven to the car lot mostly in silence. Ken asked a couple of questions about Jim’s work and Jim tried to answer, but the weirdness of knowing Ken had sucked his cock and didn’t remember just kept fogging his brain. Why did he do it if he didn’t plan to remember?

Okay Carney, that doesn’t make any sense.

Shit, I wish I had a drink.

That makes less sense. Besides, it’s better this way. How awkward would it be if he did remember?

Jim was wrestling some two-bys into place for framing and wrestling Ken Tanaka out of his brain when Charlie and Raoul walked in. Raoul ran forward and took the other end of the long piece of lumber. “Hey, man, what you doing, hauling this shit by yourself?”

Jim shrugged. “Just wanted to get a jump on the day.”

Charlie laughed. “Who are you and what have you done with our friend Jim?”

“Come on, this is important. We gotta come through for Billy.” Jim frowned and set the wood in place.

Charlie kept smiling. “Never said we wouldn’t. We just don’t see that kind of enthusiasm for work in you all the time.”

“Just keep watching.”

Two more guys arrived, and Jim left them framing while he went to the city to pull permits for the other suite. By the time he got back, they’d roughed in two private offices and had started on a third. He’d just grabbed a nail gun when the newly installed door to the suite opened and Constance Murch bustled in. “Wow. You’ve made a lot of progress in a short time. Are you free for lunch? I’d like to discuss the other suite.”

Jim glanced around at the crew. Charlie flashed a tiny grin, but most of the guys didn’t seem to think anything about the owner taking Jim to lunch.

“Uh, sure.” He looked down at his jeans and work boots. At least he’d worn a collared shirt since he’d had to go to the building department.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re California casual. Come on.”

He followed her out to the lobby, where she immediately slipped her arm through his. “Did you get my e-mail?”

“Uh, yes. I just haven’t been certain about my schedule. My brother came to live with me recently. He’s kind of working through some things.” He was babbling.
Great, Carney, blame it on Ian.

“That must be a lot of responsibility for a young man like you.” They walked out of the building, and she guided him down the sidewalk.

“I’m not all that young. Nearly twenty-seven.”

“Sounds young to me.”

He looked at her pretty face. “You’re not older than me.”

“Actually, I am.”

“Well, you don’t look it.” Which was pretty much the truth. He glanced up and stopped walking, which halted her in her tracks. “We’re not going to Pacific Crest, are we?”

“Yes. Do you know the club?”

“Kind of. But—”

“It’s okay. My father’s on the board. I want you to meet him.”