Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners (16 page)

Taylor’s eyes opened, revealing panicked dark orbs and Draven leaned into him. “You are going to be fine. Go outside and get some fresh air. I’ll finish up here and then our job is done. You hear me? You did it, baby. Now go,” He pushed Taylor toward the entrance. “Wait for me outside. I’ll be there soon. And for God’s sake don’t faint and fall down the stairs. Hold onto the rail, you hear me?”

Once again Taylor nodded as ragged breaths forced out of his body. He turned and fled the house, opening the front door and slamming it shut behind him just as Jack Threadcourt made his way toward Draven across the entrance hall. His face was wearied, lips pinched and Draven thought he was seeing yet another man at the end of his tether.

Jack raised his hands apologetically. He stopped and glanced at the front door with a slight frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Samuels. Catherine’s really not up to visitors at the moment. I’m sure you heard that outburst.” He sighed. “My wife is sitting with her now, but honestly, I think it would be best if you left and tried another day. Perhaps give it a few days then call ahead again. It will save you wasting your time coming here.”

Draven nodded and extended a hand to shake Jack’s. “I completely understand, Mr. Threadcourt. It’s a terrible situation and I have no desire to make it worse for any of you.” He waved at the front door. “Taylor wasn’t feeling too well—a little emotional himself, I think—so I sent him out to get some air. I’ll definitely call again and see if we can come by. Thank you for trying anyway.”

Jack led the way to the door and opened it. Taylor sat on the steps of the house smoking, and Draven felt a surge of relief that he looked better; his colour was back and his eyes weren’t as tortured as they had been. As the door opened, he stood up and stared uncertainly at Jack.

“Thank you for letting us in, Mr. Threadcourt,” Taylor said softly as he extended his hand. “We appreciate you trying to let us see her and I’m sorry if we upset her.”

Jack sighed as he shook the offered hand. “Don’t worry. It’s been a really tough time for her, and I’m just pleased she has people who care about her.”

Draven placed a hand on the small of Taylor’s back. He wanted to make sure he didn’t have sort of turn and fall down the broad steps. Taylor smiled at him gently.

Draven nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch soon.”

A few minutes later both of them were seated in the car watching the door at the top of the stairs shut with finality.

Taylor shifted in the seat as he pulled his seat belt on and regarded Draven with a slight look of amusement. “Baby?”

“What?” asked Draven distractedly as he too put his belt on and started the car.

“Back there, in the house. You called me ‘baby’.”

Draven frowned. “Did I? Oh.” There was silence as he pulled off and drove down the winding drive toward the open gates. He felt a little embarrassed. “Shouldn’t I have? I mean, it just slipped out. It’s okay if you don’t want me to call you that, I won’t do it again…”

“Draven.” Taylor laid a warm hand on his leg and squeezed. “It’s fine. Don’t get all wiggy about it. I just didn’t expect it from you, that’s all.”

Draven nodded slowly. “Okay. So I’m not in trouble?”

Taylor leaned over and cast a soft kiss on Draven’s stubbled cheek. It tingled. “No. I rather liked it actually.”

Draven scowled. He had a warm feeling in his stomach and wasn’t quite sure about it. “That whole damn emotional episode, and the only thing you remember is that I called you ‘baby’? Are you going soft on me, Abelard?”

Taylor chuckled, a dirty, low sound that went straight to Draven’s groin. “I think the one thing I’m not around you,
Samuels
, is soft.”

Draven stared at him.

Taylor grinned then his face sobered. “So…we’ve established that the voice I heard in the study, when Drew shot himself, was the wife. The wife who said she wasn’t in the house at the time. What the hell do we do with that information?”

Draven shook his head. “Not us. Clay, my boss, can deal with this. We’re going to go see him right now, pass on this information and he can take it further.” He felt a shiver of apprehension at that.
This
story would take some telling.

“Your boss at Mortimer Investigations?” Taylor’s eyes widened. “
The
Mortimer in the title?”

“The one and only. Clay will know exactly what needs to be done. He and Drew were sort of friends too, and business partners in a case I worked on. Clay was the one who originally uncovered the whole blackmail scenario. He knew something really bad had to happen for Drew to do what he did and he went digging. He moves in some…rather murky circles.” Draven took a deep breath. “It will be a difficult job convincing him how we got the proof, but I’ll give it a damned good try.” His voice was grim. “He’s pretty open-minded, so I hope it won’t be too difficult. But you’re coming with me. I might need you to do a demonstration.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. His voice was disbelieving when he spoke. “You’re taking me with you to your boss’s office while you tell him a psychic guy…one that you’re sleeping with… has evidence that contradicts the current state of events… gathered through solid police work I guess…and he needs to investigate something based on said crazy guy’s input?” His voice rose. “And what do you mean, ‘a demonstration’?”

Draven winced. Put like that it sounded crazy, and based on his last cock-up with Ian the Informant, he knew he was on shaky ground with Clay. Thinking about that, he hoped like hell Clay wouldn’t bring it up in front of Taylor. Nothing like having the guy you’re currently in bed with hearing about a past indiscretion and you sticking your dick where it didn’t belong.

“I mean I might need you to show Clay what you can do.” He ignored Taylor’s exasperated snort and forged ahead. “It might not come to that, but I want to make sure I can convince him.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s going to listen to the likes of me. I’m sure you made your views about me well known back in the days when you thought I was a fraud.” Taylor raised one sardonic eyebrow. “He probably thinks you’ve been cock whipped and you’ll say anything to keep me sweet so you can continue to get some.”

Draven felt his face flush. “Cock whipped?” he said haltingly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Taylor smirked. “Well, I can’t say pussy whipped because I don’t have a…”

“Tay, I get it. Please don’t even finish that sentence.” Draven glared at an unrepentant Taylor. He thought his lover had certainly recovered from his little episode given the leer he had on his face. It made Draven want to pull the car over behind the hawthorn bushes growing on the side of the road and fuck him senseless. He manfully suppressed that impulse and rolled his eyes instead. “Now shut up a minute while I figure out how the hell I’m going to sell this to him.”

He ignored Taylor’s adorable pout and again reined in his desire to have his way with him. An hour and a half later, as he parked in front of the offices of Mortimer Investigations, in the rather pretty and scenic business park of Wembley, he still wasn’t quite sure how he’d tackle the affair.

Taylor clambered out of the car. He’d been quiet on the way through, leaving Draven to figure things out and finally got bored and watched a film on his mobile phone. Draven could tell he was nervous.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Draven?” Taylor asked hesitatingly. “I mean, this guy might think I’m a damn nutter, and maybe you might be putting your job at risk if he thinks you’re one too. Maybe we should…”

Draven effectively shut him up by pulling Taylor toward him and sealing his mouth with his lips. Taylor gave a breathy moan and dissolved against Draven like a melting slab of Cadbury’s. When Draven let him go, his lips were pink and swollen from the force of his kiss.

Draven grinned. “Now that you look truly fucked, let’s go meet my boss.”

He jauntily sped across the grass, blithely ignoring the No Treading On the Grass signs that were perched in fields of lush green, and made his way to the glassed entrance. He chuckled quietly as he saw Taylor make the longer way around using the path, the long-suffering expression on his face priceless.

Draven entered the building and smiled at the receptionist. “Hi, Shelley. How are you this afternoon?”

The pretty blonde woman behind the desk waved at Draven as Taylor came in behind him. Her eyes skipped Draven and alighted on Draven’s man like a woman about to take a bite of a delicious chocolate-covered cherry. Draven thought she’d start drooling soon.

Shelly sat up, pushed her already perky boobs out and gave Taylor the full wattage of her smile. Draven felt a prickle of jealousy at the blatant come-hither action. She’d never done that to him and she didn’t even know he was gay.

“Hi, Draven. Good to see you, it’s been a while. And who is this gorgeous fellow then?” Her eyes lapped Taylor up, her interest obvious. “Wow, I’d like to get to know
you
. Are you going to be working with Draven?” Her tone was hopeful.

“He’s with me, yes.” Draven growled as he made his way to the lift and pushed the button with a short, stabbing action.

Let her take that comment any way she wants. Taylor is mine.

“I’m taking him to meet Clay. We have some business to discuss.”

He didn’t miss Taylor’s smirk as he joined him at the lift after bestowing a dazzling, white-toothed smile at the receptionist. Draven saw her almost swoon in her chair and he fiercely jabbed the button again.

“Careful, Draven. I might even start to think you care about me,” Taylor teased
sotto voce
as the lift doors opened and Draven propelled him inside. As the door closed, Draven pushed him back against the lift wall, pressing himself against an obviously amused Taylor.

“I don’t like it when people come onto you,” he muttered sulkily, his hands gripping Taylor’s hips. “You’re mine.”

He hadn’t meant to make such a statement but he couldn’t help it. He was possessive by nature, he knew that, but he didn’t want to scare Taylor off completely by being too Neanderthal.

However, knowing Taylor’s propensity for being dominated now and then, he thought it might not go down too badly. He was right. Taylor’s eyes darkened, a wet, pink tongue coming out to lick his lips unconsciously. A soft, peppermint-scented outtake of breath caressed Draven’s skin.

Draven groaned as his cock sprang to life in his jeans. He stepped away quickly and adjusted himself. “Christ, stop that. Clay will notice. He notices everything.”

Taylor laughed softly. “You started it, Mr. Caveman. Now you’ve got me hard. Do you think Clay will notice that too?”

Draven couldn’t resist a look at Taylor’s all-too-tight black jeans, losing his breath at the sight of the hard ridge lying left of the fabric.

“He can’t possibly miss it.” His voice was husky and he wondered whether they could delay seeing Clay for ten minutes while he resolved both of their problems in the fancy executive bathroom, for which he had a key card. His plan was thwarted as the lift doors opened and Clay Mortimer stood there, all one-hundred-and-eighty-odd pounds of muscle, tanned skin, black silver-grey streaked hair and attitude.

“Draven…and friend.” Clay’s voice was like warm honey, deep and melodious, unless it was busy ripping Draven a new one, which to be honest, was quite often. “What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you until next week. I was on my way out for a burger.” A slight panic coated his voice with his next words. “Is everything okay with Jude?”

Draven nodded. “Jude’s fine. That’s not why I’m here.”

Clay’s eyes narrowed, and green eyes observed Draven carefully. Draven groaned inwardly as they dropped slightly toward Draven’s nether regions, then across to Taylor’s, and then swung back up to him. His lips lifted slightly and Draven saw the amusement behind the cool facade.

“Been practising those weasel techniques, Dray?”

Draven pushed past his boss, out onto the landing. “Fuck. You,” he expostulated as Taylor’s jaw gaped open at that earthy retort. “It’s urgent, and I need to speak to you, so maybe your McDonald’s burger can wait.” Clay had a habit of buying a Big Tasty almost every day. It was one of his “little pleasures,” as he told everyone.

How Clay still managed to look so good, and keep the physique he had from his days as an SAS operative many years ago, Draven had no idea. Clay said that gym, hot sex and tequila were his secrets to maintaining his figure.

Draven walked into Clay’s office at the end of the corridor. A fairly large space, with big picture windows looking out onto the green behind, it was filled with bookshelves, wall maps, and a wooden desk stood at one end, with two chairs in front.

Draven stood, staring out at the pond and fountain in the garden below. He was slightly nervous if truth be told. He’d worked with Clay for six years and always found the man to be fair, tough and supportive when it counted. Now Taylor was involved, he felt a little out of depth. Bluster and defensive techniques normally worked for him but today, he needed Clay to listen and accept what he was about to tell him. Clay and Taylor wandered into the office, Taylor looking very ill at ease, Clay simply striding to his chair and settling in comfortably as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Draven mused wryly that telling his superior to fuck off probably hadn’t been the best thing he could have done.