Let It Go (23 page)

“I thought you were going to have breakfast with him?” Eli filled out the release forms. All he had to do now was wait for an orderly to bring a wheelchair because the nurses refused to let him leave on his own. Impatience danced over his skin like electricity. He rubbed the back of his neck but he couldn’t quiet the strange foreboding that settled over him.

“Something came up; he looked tired. Dad and I’ll drive you home so you can stop worrying.” Randy scowled, looking at Eli from veiled eyes.

“Fine.” Eli wanted to believe him. Randy was a friend, though one having serious issues with Eli’s lifestyle now that he knew the truth. “Let’s just go. I need to crash some myself. Didn’t sleep at all last night.”

Randy snorted. “With Creed hogging the bed I guess that would be hard. Okay, wheelchair is here, let’s get out to the ranch before Eli turns into a pumpkin.”

Randy left them standing in the room in awkward silence. Tom spoke first, breaking the tension. “Give him time, he’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, or he won’t.” Eli sat in the chair and propped his feet on the rests. “He wouldn’t be the first who can’t accept.”

“He’s still trying to cope with losing you when you were kids, Eli, he’s trying. Just give him time,” Tom said, his hand heavy on Eli’s shoulder. The orderly pushed Eli to the elevator that Randy held for them, and they all rode down in strained silence.

Much like that day two weeks before, he sat in the back of Randy’s car with his head leaned against the seat as he struggled to stay awake. Had it really only been two weeks? Seemed like months. This time he didn’t have Creed sitting uncomfortably beside him making him want to crack jokes about their last names. Mason Dickson. It was still funny now that he thought about it. Okay, maybe not that funny. Randy took the rut in the road too hard, jolting him upright in the seat.

“You know you might not travel this road much to get to your place, but damn, Randy, at least you could have remembered the damned rut.” Eli rubbed his neck again, wondering if the strange sensation was a symptom of the concussion or the trips through the MRI tunnel or something medically related.

“Sorry,” Randy said, but Eli didn’t think he was sorry. “You can stop snarling at me, you know. I haven’t done anything.”

“I have a fucking headache and my mouth hurts to talk and you’re hitting ruts deep enough to hide King Kong and Godzilla in and you haven’t done anything?”

“Oh, sorry, I guess I forgot.” This time he sounded contrite, but Eli still couldn’t shake this unease that settled in on him. “He isn’t answering the phone; I thought you were taking it out on me.”

Eli sighed. Maybe he was. “Yeah, a little, I guess. Something feels wrong. I can’t shake it.”

“He’s probably just sleeping it off. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Randy actually sounded sincere. Eli caught his gaze in the rearview and sighed. Maybe Randy could get past all this after the shock wore off. “He looked wrecked, Eli, probably meant to catch a shower and a nap and get back to the hospital, that’s all.”

“So why didn’t he call to let me know?”

“Who says he didn’t? He has your phone, and you were out for tests. He probably did and no one answered. Stop worrying.” Randy turned into the drive, the blacktop a welcome respite from the bouncing of the dirt road. “The truck is here, by the stables; he’s fine. I told you.”

“He probably needed to take a ride to clear his head. He’s not happy unless he’s on a horse.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Kip came up to the fence. The horse seemed agitated as he ran along beside the car. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Randy, stop the car,” Tom said, his hand on Randy’s arm. Randy stopped back in the drive instead of pulling into the stable yard or up to the house. There was movement on the other side of Eli’s truck. Something on the ground. Like a body. Eli didn’t wait for Randy or the judge; he left the car at a run, silently thanking Randy for not locking him in. His ribs ached from the need to breathe heavily; he gasped for breath as he rounded the front of his truck and came to a dead stop.

“Morning, Eli, looks like someone fucked up your face for you.”

The sound of the gun cocking reverberated in his ears, the gun pointing at him the only thing Eli could focus on.

“No one gave you permission to stop. Did I say you could stop, cunt?” his uncle drawled, his gaze drawing Eli’s attention down to the man on the ground, his mouth around—Oh Jesus. Eli stumbled back a step. “And you—don’t move. Creed and I are just finishing up our little reunion party.”

Eli held his hands out to his sides like he’d seen on television. He couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t watch but he couldn’t look away. His uncle’s hand twisted in Creed’s hair, holding his head captive as he thrust into his mouth. Creed’s hands lay limp in his lap; he made no attempt to stop that Eli could see.

“He’s very good with his mouth, best I’ve ever had.” Owen didn’t waver; he fucked Creed’s mouth, smiling at Eli as if this happened all the time. “Don’t you spit, cunt; swallow, or I’ll shoot your boyfriend.” Owen’s eyes rolled a little and he made a moaning sound, his smile becoming broader as he came. “He’s real good, Eli, you want a turn? Creed will do whatever you tell—yeah, cunt, just like … so damn good.”

And Creed didn’t make a sound. Not one damn sound. He just sat on his knees as if he’d done this a million times.

“You didn’t know, did you, boy?” Owen laughed, his voice husky now as Creed put his flaccid cock into his pants and zipped him up.

“I didn’t know what, Owen?” Eli croaked. His mind didn’t work; he couldn’t come up with anything smart-assed to say. He watched as Owen again twisted his hand in Creed’s hair, wrenching his neck until he was forced to face Eli, still on his knees.

“Your boyfriend is nothing but a whore, boy. I warned you about him for years, but you didn’t listen. And now here he is and you’ve fallen in love with a fucking whore.
My
fucking whore.” The gun didn’t move as his uncle spoke, his eyes growing, what, maniacal, and then he put the gun to Creed’s head. “Tell him, Creed; tell him what he needs to hear.”

Creed didn’t blink; his eyes were glassy, unfocused, and cold as fucking hell. “Love you, Eli. Want you. I like it hard. Baby. Please. Love you so much.” Owen yanked his head back but Creed didn’t break eye contact with the movement. Creed wasn’t there anymore; he’d locked himself inside that place he used to hide in. Closed up shop and went somewhere else. The bruise around his left eye would be swollen come morning; there were marks on his neck, his chest, fresh marks that Eli hadn’t put there. Bruises, bites; Creed pulled his hand to his chest and stroked the scar. He did that too often.

A memory, half-fuzzy, formed in his head. Long hair, blood, thumb dangling at an alarming angle … Creed, it was Creed, beaten and bloody and broken, begging him for help before he collapsed into Eli’s arms.

“Now tell me, baby, tell me what you told me earlier so he’ll know, once and for all.”

“Love you, Daddy. Should have stayed with my daddy three years ago. He’s going to take care of me. He promised. But I left him. Broke his heart.”

“That’s enough, baby.” Owen yanked Creed’s hair, making him wince. A tear slipped from one eye, followed by another to drip onto his faded jeans.

A white-hot stab of anger shot through Eli. He didn’t know who he was angry with: his uncle, Creed, or himself for not seeing what was right in front of him. But even if Creed was what his uncle claimed, he wasn’t on his knees because he wanted to be. Hell, with a gun to his head, Eli would suck the man off. Yesterday, Creed had saved him; whatever he was before didn’t matter.

“You’re not taking him, Owen. I won’t let you.”

The sound of gunfire up close was more like a firecracker going off; the shattering of glass behind him and the smoke coming from the barrel told him the fucker really had pulled the trigger, and shot right past him as a warning. Damn, he hoped it was a warning and not a near miss.

“I’ve paid enough for him over the years. He’s my property and I’ll do what I damn well please with my property, Eli, regardless of what you or your judge sugar daddy says.” The gun moved back to Creed’s head as Owen pulled him into a crouch. “He’s mine, Eli, and I am not sharing him. Go find another fuck toy. That one from Oklahoma City comes to mind. Plenty of pretty rodeo queers out there.”

“You’re not taking him.” Eli took a step forward and the gun came back to point at him.

“Because you’re in love with him? What the hell do you care, Eli, he’s a fucking whore. He’s been down on every goddamned trucker in the country.” Eli focused on Creed’s face, cold hard granite. It was true. Jesus, and Eli fell for it. “I’ll kill you, boy, if you get in my way. But if you step aside I’ll never bother you again. You’ll never see me again. Step aside, Eli.” He pulled the hammer back on the pistol and aimed for Eli’s chest.

Eli didn’t step aside.

The sound echoed on the air, a crack and a whine. Eli braced himself, that’s all he could do. Terror raced through his body so fast he couldn’t decide what else to do. Creed sat still, his face gone white, his eyes wide with every single emotion Eli had ever seen in the past week. He didn’t flinch when Eli dropped to his knees not far from him. He didn’t move, the silent tears gone now as horror filled his eyes.

Eli looked over to what was left of his uncle. His eyes were open; blood trickled from the hole in his forehead. A deep red, almost black puddle formed beneath his head. He still clasped the gun in his hand.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Eli crawled across the blacktop. He couldn’t find his feet. Didn’t know if his legs would support him if he did. All he could think about was getting to Creed. “Creed?” He just wanted to make sure Creed was okay. Just wanted to hold him and tell him everything was fine. Everything was fine. It had to be fine. He reached for him, wanting to reassure him.

“Don’t touch me.” The words were soft but guttural, spittle slipping from his lip as he spoke. “Please. Just don’t fucking touch me.”

Creed stared at him for a long moment, his eyes so goddamned cold Eli didn’t recognize his lover. Cold turned to terror as Eli watched and Creed fell forward onto his hands. His body spasmed as he vomited. Wave after wave of tremors racked his slender frame while he emptied him stomach. When he was finished Eli followed Creed’s gaze to the men standing not far away.

Randy holding the gun that ended Owen Mason’s life, his face pale, nearly identical to Creed’s. The judge wasn’t much better off; his fingers shook as he took the gun from his son. And the third set of eyes, newly arrived, the owner out of breath, filled with shock and then clarity. Creed’s old man driver. When the fuck had he shown up? Was he another of Creed’s—

Eli didn’t finish the thought as the subject of that thought darted to his feet and stood there staring at the old man. A high-pitched moan escaped his mouth; his eyes wild, he didn’t turn to look at the man on the ground. Instead he turned and fled. One hand on the fence, he vaulted the wooden structure as if it was nothing. The horse came at his whistle and in three strides Creed was on his back and gone.

“This is Judge Buchanan, I … ah, I have to … send the sheriff and … yeah, there’s been a shooting. Where?”

Eli tuned out the words, his world going black around him as he watched the dot that was his life disappearing into the distance. He sat down on his ass and dragged his knees to his chest and waited. There was nothing to do now but wait.

“I don’t know why. I just wanted to see him happy. He’s been so happy the last couple of weeks, and Owen shot at him. You saw what he did to them. You saw what he did to Creed, was doing to Creed. Why in the hell…” Eli couldn’t move to help Randy when his friend fell apart. He couldn’t help anyone. Not one damn person. Creed, himself; how the hell was he supposed to help Randy?

Owen’s dead eyes stared up at him. Eli couldn’t look away. Good. Good. The word became his mantra. Good. This was good.

Chapter 17

By the time the sheriff’s department and coroner showed up, the judge and Randy had their story straight. Eli could only sit and nod. Everything played out just as it happened, except Creed wasn’t anywhere around. The judge’s decision. One Eli agreed with. He didn’t need Creed’s name smeared around the county for his part in what happened.

Oh fuck. Eli wrapped his arms around his shoulders to stop the shivers that threatened to tear him apart. Questions. So many questions. He rode into town in the back of a cruiser. Randy and the judge rode in separate cruisers. But they’d had time to get the story straight before the world descended upon them.

Owen had been waiting for Eli when he came home from the hospital. True enough. Owen was angry; he was always angry about something. This time he found out Eli was going to fix the property up. The property had always been a source of contention. Owen had wanted to sell it so many times and use the money to fund his rodeo career. And now he came for what was his. No one would have known. No one should have been out here other than Eli. He would have been the grieving uncle, come to claim his nephew’s estate as his next of kin. It was perfect. And probably partly true if Tom were to be believed. Owen took a shot at Eli not knowing Randy and the judge were not far away. And Randy shot him to keep him from killing Eli. Creed’s name was never mentioned. And Creed stayed away the entire time the paramedics and coroner cleaned up the body. There would be gunshot residue on Owen’s hand; the broken window and the bullet lodged somewhere inside Eli’s kitchen should be enough to corroborate the story.

Eli leaned over and emptied his stomach into the wastebasket the deputy had shoved at him earlier. He couldn’t stop shivering. He couldn’t stop worrying about Creed.

It seemed like hours had passed while he sat in the interview room. His head throbbed. He wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week. He wanted Creed. Even knowing what he now knew, he couldn’t stop wanting the man.

“You okay?” It was the deputy who’d arrested them in the bar sitting with him.

“My uncle just tried to kill me, and now he has a hole in his head that I keep seeing every time I close my eyes. I’m fine and dandy, thanks for asking.” Eli rinsed his mouth with water and spit it back into the cup. “My head is killing me. I need to lie down. Was supposed to go home and lie down you know. Doctor’s orders.”