Ricochet (32 page)

could give them that, Ricky-boy. You know I

could."

The last thing Rick wanted was to invite his

father into his house, but it looked like he didn't

have a choice. "Fine," he grunted. "But keep it

short; I don't have a lot of time."

"You planning on going somewhere?" Sean

gave a leering grin. "Maybe to pick up that pretty

sub you like so much and spend the night with

him?"

"No. When I said I don't have a lot of time, I

meant I don't have a lot of time for you," Rick

snapped, and he revved his motorcycle noisily and

rode it the last few yards onto his drive. He got off

the bike and turned to see his father had followed

him in. Rick jerked his head and led Sean into his

house.

"Wow." Sean whistled behind him as they

stepped inside. "Nice place."

"I earned it," Rick said pointedly. "With my

own money. Not somebody else's."

Sean shrugged. "You playact for a living and

so do I, in my own way; I don't see the difference,

son."

"Nobody's getting hurt by what I do - and I

give some pleasure and entertainment in return."

"Oh, so do I, son. So do I." His father sat

down on the sofa and put his long legs up on the

coffee table. It was something Rick did all the

time, and the sense of familiarity irritated him.

"What do you want to talk about, Sean?"

"Aren't you going to offer your old man a

beer?"

"No. What do you want to talk about?" Rick

was sure he already had a pretty good idea.

"Well, see, a journalist contacted me recently

- a cute young sub; nice ass." Sean gave a creepy

little smile. "You're right, son - I had no idea you

were some big actor, earning a lot of money and

living in a place like this. I figured you'd been sent

back to prison, where, let's face it, we both know

you belong."

"Aw, such touching sentiments and how nice

of you to care enough about my welfare to not

know where I've been or what I've been doing for

the past fourteen years."

"Listen, Rick - I told you when you were a

kid that you have to make your own way in life. It's

not my fault you chose to do that by stealing."

Rick couldn't even bring himself to make the

obvious retort. "What did the journalist want?" he

asked abruptly.

"Well,

it

seems

he's

writing

some

unauthorized biography of you, Ricky boy. He's

looking to dig up some dirt, and you and I both

know there's plenty of that - if you know where to

put your spade."

Rick wasn't entirely surprised - he'd been

expecting something like this to happen from the

moment
Collar Crime
became such a massive hit

for the network.

"Now, I told him I was happy to be

interviewed - for a fee." His father's eyes lit up.

"How much?" Rick asked quietly.

"$250,000." Sean shrugged. "He turned me

down - in fact, the little shit laughed in my face,

but I told him that what I have on you is worth

$250,000, and it is." He grinned. "Isn't it, Ricky?"

"Not to him, clearly."

"No, maybe not - but it is to you." Sean

leaned back and clasped his hands behind his

head. It was another thing that Rick did all the

time, and he felt an old wave of despair. There

was no escaping who he was, no matter how

successful his TV show was or how damn big his

house.

"So you want money," Rick said flatly. "I

can't say I'm surprised. I'm more surprised it took

you so long to show up here with your begging

bowl."

"Oh, it's not a begging bowl, son. This is

more like a business transaction. You have

something you don't want getting out, and I can

make sure it doesn't." Sean took his feet off the

table and leaned forward. "Unless you already told

those nice people you work for that you're an ex-

con with a record as long as my arm? Do they

know they should lock up their valuables around

you in case you decide to pocket them?"

"That was a long time ago," Rick said tightly.

"So you haven't told them?" His father gave a

smug smile. "Of course you haven't. You always

were a sly little shit, Rick - always trying to get

away with whatever you could and lying to cover

your tracks."

"You're right. I must have learned that from

someone; I wonder who?"

"Well, maybe I taught you better than I knew

at the time. I always thought that big, bleeding

heart of yours and your soft spot for subs would be

your undoing. Fuck knows, I tried to toughen you

up, but I didn't think I'd succeeded. Maybe I did,

after all."

"$250,000 buys your silence?" Rick asked

quietly.

"Yes it does, son. $250,000 means you don't

have to worry about your old man sitting down

with that journalist and telling him all about your

misspent youth."

"Fine." Rick walked across the room, opened

a drawer, and got out his check book. He wrote the

check and then strode back and handed it to his

father. "Now fuck off and don't come back."

"I love you too, son." Sean stood up, stuffing

the check into his jacket pocket. He still dressed

the same - faded jeans, black leather boots, white

tee shirt, battered old leather vest, and a red

bandana around his throat. Even the striking tattoos

on his arms seemed deliberately designed to go

with his strutting dom walk.

"One more thing - here’s my cell phone

number, in case we need to do business again."

Sean took a card out of his pocket and held it out.

Rick ignored it, so Sean gave a little grunt and

threw it on the coffee table. Then he patted Rick

lightly on the cheek, grinning. Rick grabbed his

wrist and pushed his hand away forcefully.

"No. You don't get to touch me or pretend

you've been any kind of a father to me after all this

time, you bastard. You've got your money - I don't

ever want to see or hear from you again."

"Aw, that's a shame." Sean pouted. "See, I

was hoping you'd introduce me to that sweet young

sub all the magazines say you're dating. What's his

name? Mike? Mark? Matt?"

Rick flung out an arm, grabbed his father, and

pushed him up against the wall, his hand around

Sean's throat.

"If you go near Matt then I promise I will

track you down, and I will kill you," he growled.

Several emotions flashed through his father's

eyes: fear, anger, and then, finally, an amused kind

of cunning. He relaxed under Rick's grasp.

"So that's how the land lies, is it?" he said

softly. "I assumed my boy wouldn't be so stupid as

to fall for a sub's wiles - I thought I'd taught you

not to walk into that trap, boy, but it looks like

you're still as soft on subs now as you were as a

kid."

Rick sank his fists into his father's leather

vest and lifted him bodily off the floor. "I mean it,

Sean. You go near Matty, and I promise you'll

regret it. Don't think you can use him for whatever

twisted little scheme you dream up next. You can

fuck with me all you like, but you fuck with Matty

and it's the last thing you'll ever do."

He loosened his hold but only enough that he

could haul his father bodily out of the front door

and down the drive, and then he threw him out of

the gates and onto the street.

"Don't ever come back," he warned. "I won't

be so nice next time." Then he locked the gates on

his father and strode back to his house.

He went straight to his gym and spent the next

hour pounding his fists into the punching bag until

only the pain in his fists finally penetrated the fog

of anger and made him stop.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself next.

Usually when he experienced any kind of strong

emotion he liked to go out clubbing, losing himself

in loud music, liquor, and the pleasures to be found

in the beautiful bodies of willing subs.

He was tempted to do that now, to go out and

find oblivion in the coping mechanisms that had

always worked so well for him in the past. And

yet… some small, sane voice inside told him the

last thing he wanted to do was lose his job because

of his father. That would give Sean O'Shea a

power over his life that Rick had long since denied

him.

Rick took a shower instead, trying to calm

himself down, but when he closed his eyes to let

the water pound on his aching shoulders, all he

could see was his father, lying in wait for Matt and

waylaying him with one of his charming smiles.

"Damn it! You've been such a fucking idiot,"

he berated himself. Now his father knew that Matt

was a potential weak spot, he'd be sure to use the

information against him. That was what his father

did. It was how he operated.

No matter how hard he tried, Rick couldn't

get the image of Matt and his father out of his head.

He turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around

his waist, and ran into the bedroom to call Matt.

"C'mon Matt. Pick up, pick up!" he said,

pacing anxiously around the room with his cell

phone pressed to his ear.

He was hugely relieved when he heard Matt's

voice - until he realized it was his voicemail.

He hesitated for a moment, but the feeling of

unease didn't go away so he got dressed, made a

run for his bike, and drove over to Matt's place.

Matt went through the list of questions Grable

had given him, ticking and crossing in the

appropriate boxes. He had no idea what some of

the kinks he was asked about even were and had to

look them up on the internet. He'd just finished and

emailed the questionnaire to Fantasia when he

heard an urgent knocking on the door.

He ran to open it, and Rick almost fell into

the house. His hair was wet, and he looked wild,

deranged and faintly ridiculous. He grabbed Matt's

shoulders and looked at him intently.

"Are you okay, Matt?"

Matt blinked. "Uh, I'm fine. What's going on?

Why are you here? I mean, why have you come

here, uh, tonight?" Surely Rick hadn't found out

about his visit to Fantasia? Not that it was any of

his business, of course, but Matt really didn't want

to have to explain to anyone why he had visited a

kink house of all places.

"Sorry, Matt, I didn't mean to freak you out,

it's just…" Rick took a deep breath and slowed

down. "Look - I need to warn you - I just had a

visit from my father."

"Your father?" Matt frowned. Rick hadn't told

him much about his dad, but he'd definitely got the

impression that Rick didn't see him anymore.

"Yeah, and this is going to sound weird, Matt,

but I just wanted to warn you about him, in case he

tries to contact you."

"Why would he try to contact me?" Matt

asked blankly.

"He saw those pictures of us in the

magazines, and he thinks all that crap they wrote

about us is true, and that we're dating."

"Okay, but I still don't see why he'd try and

contact me." Matt tried to get his head around this:

Rick, arriving here in this state, talking wildly

about his father, was the last thing he'd expected to

happen this evening.

"Because… it's the kind of thing he might try

to do," Rick said, which made no sense at all.

"Look, it's complicated. Just promise me you won't

listen to him if he does try to contact you."

"Okay," Matt said easily, shrugging.

Rick dug his fingers into Matt's shoulders,

making him wince. "No - I mean, really promise!

Don't get into a conversation with him, even if it

means ignoring him or cutting him off if he starts

talking to you. He's really good at getting into

people's heads, twisting things, and making them

believe stuff that isn't true."

"Rick - is there something I should know?"

Matt asked curiously. "I mean, why would your

father bother getting into my head? What's the

point? He doesn't even know me."