My Vampire Lover (9 page)

I looked at Jerry, who sat on the couch, being rubbed on by Felicia. He sank back against the cushions and took her in his arms. I heard her purring, clear across the room.

Traitor, I thought.
"I love cats," Jerry said softly, kissing Felicia's ears. His eyes glistened as he stared up at me. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"My friend Barney will be here shortly," I told him. "Just tell him everything you've been through and show him the evidence—I mean, all those bruises. Why did he do that?"

"I was seeing some guy, and he found out."
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Jean-Claude...
"He and one of his bozos—the one you punched earlier—
took turns beating me up."
"Your mother?"
"She left him years ago. Can you blame her?"
Yeah. I could blame her for leaving her son with a maniac, but I said nothing, just nodded.

"Then he told me he was going to get the man I had been seeing. Jesus, Ron. We hadn't done anything. I asked him over to the house when my dad was out. We just talked. He hugged me goodnight. He was really nice."

 

I know,
I thought.

 

"They locked me in my room the night I was supposed to meet him. I felt so damned guilty about what they would do to him, and there was no way I could warn him. Anyway, they didn't manage to get him."

So he didn't know his father had almost killed Jean-Claude.
"That's good," I said, clearing my throat. "Can I get you a soda or something?'
"Just water. I'd like something stronger, but better not with a cop coming 'round."
Was he old enough to drink? "How old are you, Jerry?"
"Twenty-five. I know, I look younger. Everyone tells me."

"Yeah, you do." I got up as someone hammered on my door. "Hope that's Barney," I said, seeing the tension on Jerry's face. I peered through the peek-hole. "Get your thumb off," I yelled, "or I'm not opening the door."

"Fine, I'll leave you to your fate, then."
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I flung the door open. "Why do you always do that?" I asked, belligerently.

"'Cause I know it pisses you off." Barney bussed my cheek, and sauntered into the living room. "Hi, I'm Detective Barney Foster," he said, holding out his hand to Jerry. Was it my imagination, or did young Jerry blush slightly as he took Barney's hand and introduced himself?

"So, Felicia left you again for another guy, Ron?" Barney chuckled as he settled on the couch next to Jerry. He looked huge sitting on that couch—I swear I've never seen anyone else with shoulders as broad as his. Jerry seemed fascinated by Barney's arms, or was it his chest—or maybe just all of Barney? The kid's eyes were glued to my ex-boyfriend's every movement. I hid a little smile as I went to fetch him a glass of water.

"Getcha something, Barney?"
"'Nope, I'm good." He studied Jerry's face for a moment then cleared his throat noisily. "So, Ron tells me you're being threatened." "By his father, the
Reverend
Jerry Delano," I called out from the kitchen. "Show him the bruises, Jerry."

Jerry carefully put Felicia aside and stood up. He pulled his shirt up over his head, and Barney's eyes widened as he gazed at Jerry's slim, hard torso. I wasn't sure if it was the sight of the bruises that caused Barney's mouth to fall slightly open, or the sensual sight of the young man's body.

"Your father did this?" Barney's voice was strangely thick.
"Him and one of the thugs he employs as a bodyguard,"
Jerry said.
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"Why does a man of the cloth need bodyguards?" Barney asked, standing up, and with a gentleness I'd never seen in him before, he put his hands on Jerry's shoulders, turning him around slowly and peering at the marks on his body. "Looks like they used knuckledusters, here, and here," he said, touching Jerry's skin lightly. "Sons-of-bitches..." He straightened up, and Jerry stood as if transfixed, gazing into Barney's eyes with quiet adoration.

I felt like the biggest third wheel in the world. This was not a situation I had foreseen. These guys were falling in love right before my very eyes! Jean-Claude ... Oh, wow. How was I going to explain this to him—or him to them? Jeez.
"Uh ... Barney?"
He turned and looked at me as though he'd forgotten I was in the room. Then his eyes seemed to come back into focus. "Oh, right. Uh, put your shirt back on, Jerry, and tell me everything that's happened to you. I wanna make some notes."
For a time, Jerry sat quietly answering Barney's questions.
Seems old man Delano had suspected his son was a homo for some time.

"He would rant on about homosexuals being a plague on the earth," Jerry said. "All the time looking right at me. Once, I got up the nerve to argue the point, and he went into a tirade that took him days to get over."

"When did he start beating you?" Barney asked him.
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"Well, it started out being just a slap or two, but after my mother left, he kinda took his rage out on me. He blamed me for her leaving." "What a jerk," I muttered.
Barney looked up from his notebook and gazed at Jerry, a gentle sympathy in his eyes. "What was the reason for this latest beating?"

"He found out I had a date with a guy. He locked me in my room, then took his goons to the place we were to meet. He was going to have them 'beat the crap out of the fag,' he told me, but when he came home, I gathered things didn't go so well. The guy got away, so Dad and Brett, the worst of his goons, beat the crap out of me instead."

"Jeez," Barney murmured. "I want to meet this Brett character."

 

"Barney," I said pointedly. "Jerry's not going to be able to go back home, at least, not until he has an assurance from his father that he's not going to beat the crap out of him again."

 

Jerry grimaced. "He's not going to give me the time of day, never mind assurances. There's no way I'm going back there. Don't worry, I'll find somewhere to stay."

"You could sleep on the couch here," I mumbled, trying to transmit a mental message to Barney's brain.
Ask him, dummy
. "No, that's okay," Jerry said.
"My place," Barney blurted suddenly.
"What?"
"You could stay at my place."
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I noticed with a great deal of amusement that Barney's face had gone a ruddy shade. "Uh ... that way, I could kinda
... uh ... protect you if any of your dad's strong-arm men ...
uh ... tried anything."
"That's a great idea," I said with enthusiasm. "Why didn't I think of that? What d'you think, Jerry?"
From the shining in his eyes, I could tell young Jerry thought it was a helluva idea. I sighed. Who knew I could play at being a yenta?

* * * *

 

The apartment seemed very empty and flat after they'd left. I felt lonely ... and needy. I glanced at my watch. Four o'clock. Would Jean-Claude be awake yet? I could leave a message if he didn't pick up...

He picked up.
"Jean-Claude."
"Hello, Ron. I thought it might be you." His sexy accent in my ear gave me a hard on.
"I'm not calling too early, am I?"
"No. How are you?"
"Great."
"You have something to tell me, I think."
How did he know that? "I do? Wait ... I thought you said you couldn't read thoughts."
His low chuckle made my toes curl. "Would you like to come over, and tell me all about your day?"
"You won't get mad and try to zap me?"
"I won't get mad. Come over."
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"Be right there."
Quickly, I pulled off my conservative church-going costume and headed for the shower. Had to be all clean and shiny.

I crooned a happy, snappy number as the hot water tumbled all around me. I didn't hear the front door being jimmied open, nor did I see the shadows of the two men as they entered my bathroom. I gave a startled yelp as the shower curtain was suddenly yanked back, and I was hauled bodily from the shower. A punch to my stomach doubled me over with pain.

"That's for earlier," a voice growled, then something hit me on the head, and the world went away.
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Chapter Six

When I came to, I was lying on a bare mattress in a darkened room. I stayed still, trying to remember what had happened. Oh yeah ... two guys in my bathroom. One of them had been the jerk I'd punched before Jerry and I had made a run for it. He'd looked familiar, but how had they found out where I lived? Too bad they hadn't tried to break in when Barney was still there. He'd have made mincemeat outta them. They'd obviously expected to find me there alone with Jerry.

Damn, but my head hurt. I groaned as I sat up, the pain arcing through my skull like a steel knife. I stood up, weaving groggily. I wasn't tied, and someone had thought to throw a pair of shorts on me.

"Hello?" I called out through the locked door.
I heard a shuffling sound from the other side then a voice.
"Back away from the door."

I backed away. The tall guy who'd punched me in the stomach stood in the doorway, a sneer on his face and a gun in his hand. Too bad he was such a jerk, he was kinda cute.

His eyes gleamed as he glared at me.
"How'd you know where to find me?" I asked him.

"You work at La Fortuna," he replied. "I've been there a couple of times, so when I saw you with the kid, I thought I recognised you. A phone call to the restaurant from your 'out-of-town cousin just here for the day' snagged your address without a problem."

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"I thought you looked familiar, too," I said. "Too bad we're not more fussy about who we serve."
His sneer got bigger. "Smart ass."
I flexed my chest muscles. "You want me, don't you?" I taunted him. "I can see through that expression of disgust, y'know." "Shut up," he rasped. "The Reverend wants to speak to you. If I were you, I wouldn't get too cute with him."
"Yeah, I know ... he's mean and nasty. D'you get off on that S 'n' M stuff?"
He scowled. "I said, shut up." He grabbed at my arm.
"Let's go." He pulled me out into a long corridor then pushed me forward ahead of him. "Third door on the right. You're expected."

The Reverend Delano sat at a giant mahogany desk set in the middle of a large well-furnished room. The interior of his church might be enough to give Christopher Lowell a heart attack, but Delano's own private domain was tastefully decorated in muted colours and expensive furniture. He cast an ugly look at me as his fellow basher pushed me through the door.

"You're a friend of my son?" He stood and walked around his desk, stopping a few feet from me. He looked me up and down, his nose twitching like he smelled something bad. Only himself, I thought.

"Well?"
"Not really," I said. "I just met him this morning after your really fantastic sermon."
He ignored my sarcasm. "Where is he?"
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"In police custody."
His eyes widened. "
What?
"

"Yeah, I called the police after he showed me what you'd done to him." I couldn't resist grinning at the shocked expression on Delano's face. "He's giving them a statement about how you and Lurch here beat him up, using knuckledusters no less."

"He's lying." Lurch gave me a shove.
"Get Bob Sanders on the phone now, Brett," Delano said, tight-lipped. "We'll get Jerry home, then we'll make sure he doesn't pull another stunt like this."

"What—you'll beat him up some more?" I snapped angrily, watching Brett/Lurch pick up the phone and talk urgently into the mouthpiece. "Your own son? I think even your flock of dumb-ass followers might find that just a tad excessive.

How's it going to look when this piece of news hits the media?
'Evangelical preacher abuses gay son—news at ten!'"
"Be quiet," Delano snarled. "Your opinions are worthless, you faggot—"

"Oh yeah? I think the police are going to see you for the hypocritical scumbag you are, when I tell them you had a friend of mine attacked, and almost killed, the other night."

 

Delano narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you know of that?"

 

"Enough to put you in jail. I found him, badly injured, near my restaurant. He was on his way to see me, when your thugs shoved a wooden stake into his chest. Only he's tougher that you thought. He survived, and he's ready to give the cops a statement soon as he's out of the hospital." I got a 92

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kick out of seeing Delano's face as I told him this extremely tall tale. Jean-Claude would be surprised to know he was in the hospital, eager to talk to the police.

Delano flicked an angry look at henchman Brett who was still on the phone talking, I guessed, to Delano's attorney.
"Yeah," I said smugly. "Brett blew it. Left a witness alive who's heard your name mentioned in connection with the attack." "Dammit! Give me the phone," Delano barked. "Bob ...
wait..." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Put the fag back in the room. We'll work this out after I talk to Bob."
As he took his hand off the mouthpiece I yelled, "Help! I'm being held here against my will! Call the cops!"

Brett grabbed me and punched me on the back hard enough to send me to my knees. Then he hauled me to my feet and hustled me out of the room, his gun pressed into my ribs. Just before the door closed, I heard Delano say, "Oh, just somebody fooling around..."

Brett marched me up the corridor and threw me back in the dark room, even darker now, as it was getting late.
"You can't keep me here forever, you know," I said. "You guys are in a world of trouble. Expect the cops to come a-calling any minute now." For a moment, indecision flickered across Brett's face, then he slammed the door shut on me and locked it.

Damn. What the hell was I going to do? Of course, the cops wouldn't be calling. Barney and Jerry were probably canoodling on the couch back at Barney's apartment, totally unaware of my predicament, and Jean-Claude was most likely 93

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wondering where the hell I'd got to. Delano's attorney would to call the police station and be told no one by the name of Jerry Delano had come forward to make any kind of statement.

When Delano found that out, he'd be in here, beating the crap out of me, until I told him where Jerry actually was.
Hmm ... time for a serious escape plan. But how?
My head jerked towards the window as I heard a tapping on the glass. I rushed over and pulled up the blind.
"Jean-Claude," I gasped, staring at his worried but still gorgeous, face. Wait a minute...
I figured we were at least three stories up and there was no balcony out there. I pushed the window open.
"How ... how did you get up here?"
"Explanations can wait," he whispered. "We must go, now.
Quickly."
"Go where? It's a thirty foot drop, at least."
"Trust me, Ron," he said, holding his arms open. "Climb through the window and hold on to me. I will take you to safety." "But—"
"Now, Ron! There is no time to lose."