Wanting (2 page)

“Right. How many killers are there?”

“About twenty? Maybe more. I didn’t…didn’t… It wasn’t the kind of situation where I could sit and count them.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think. So what did they do?”

“They hummed.”

“Pardon?”

“And swayed.”

“Uh…” Oliver wasn’t sure what to ask next. The image of twenty or more people swaying and humming in here while this poor fucker was chained up made his blood run cold. He shook his head to clear it. “Why? Do you know why they did this?”

“I was the one they wanted.”

“Because?”

“Because I’m gay.”

“Aw, fuck.”

“They’re gay too.”

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t understand either. It was just…fun for them. A ritual they wanted to play out. They… It’s getting difficult to stay here. I’m being pulled back…”

“Wait!” Oliver shouted. Panic gripped him, chasing the adrenaline around until he felt sick. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Just hang on for a little while longer. Ritual? What do you mean? Like a sex ring? What?”

Silence.

“You had him?” Langham called.

The warehouse was quiet, as if all officers had ceased work to stare at Oliver talking to the dead man. Most of them were used to it, but he’d seen a couple of new faces tonight, people who would wonder what the fuck was going on with the skinny bloke talking to himself.

Oliver opened his eyes. Langham stood beside him, cupping Oliver’s elbow.

“Yes, I had him, and I was right. This is only the beginning.”

Two Months Later

One chance, that was what Dane had said. Adam had one chance to prove to himself that he could take being submissive without sticking his oar in every time his man gave an instruction. Adam would try—yeah, he’d try all right—but Dane pushed his buttons to the point Adam couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t keep his bloody mouth shut.

Maybe Dane ought to gag him.

Adam wondered why he found his voice in the bedroom, when all other times he was meek as fuck and let the world ride roughshod over him. Maybe he felt so safe with Dane that everything else melted away. Maybe it was like Dane had said, that Adam wasn’t submissive material. Hence the one chance to prove himself. If he couldn’t do as he was told next time, they’d quit the Dom/sub thing and just fuck.

Adam kicked at the loose stones beneath his feet. Waiting around outside the mini-mart down the road from their flat wasn’t his idea of a good time, especially when Dane was late finishing and the rain pissed down on Adam like no one’s business. Still, it got Adam out of the house, didn’t it, and that was something.

Times past, Adam wouldn’t have even stepped over the threshold at night. Wankers attacking him when he walked home in the dark made him afraid to go out. And he
had
been afraid, more than he’d liked to admit, because, fuck, it wasn’t cool to say you were frightened. Not around here, anyway.

No, it wouldn’t be a wise move. People would use it against him.

This city was rough as arseholes. Just two months ago, when summer had been at its height, a bloke had been found murdered in a warehouse, and before that, some freak had been feeding drugs to innocent people in order to make them go out and kill. The world was a fucked-up place, no doubt about it, and Adam wanted out of the rat race more than anything.

He shivered, a raindrop sneaking inside his collar and dripping down his neck. Damn autumn weather ought to fuck the hell off right about now. Six days it had been raining, with no indication it was going to let up. They reckoned there would be floods before long, insurance companies shitting bricks at the anticipated payouts. Good job Adam lived in a high-rise flat then, wasn’t it, and as for home insurance…

One day he’d get a job instead of relying on Dane to pay the rent. All right, Dane had moved in when Adam had lost his job because of…well, because of what had happened, but it couldn’t go on indefinitely. Adam felt guilty every time Dane dipped into his pocket, money for this or money for that, always something that needed paying for, but Dane insisted he didn’t mind.

“I love you, don’t I,” he’d said. “And when you’re better and get a job we’ll share the bills, all right?”

Adam had nodded, a damn sissy lump in his throat, and had gone off to busy himself doing something or other. He couldn’t remember what now, just that he’d needed to get away from those penetrative blue eyes before Dane copped on to the fact that Adam wanted to bawl his bloody eyes out. The last thing he’d wanted then was sympathy. He felt a bastard every day he didn’t get himself out of the flat to go job-hunting, but it was all so…so fucking
hard
. Everyone seemed to be looking at him weirdly, like…shit, he couldn’t even explain it. Like they knew he was afraid, that if they lunged towards him suddenly he’d crap his pants and take off running.

And maybe he would.

He glanced at the sky. Oddly, it wasn’t that dark, despite it being past midnight. The clouds hung low—looked as though they were sitting on the damn rooftops—all fat grey bellies and puffy arses. The moon shone from between two dirty great cotton balls, its pewter-coloured face somewhat angry compared to the usual smiling effort.

Adam huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. Like the moon was a real man. Jesus.

The door to the mini-mart clacked open, giving Adam a bit of a start. Loud or sudden noises did that to him, and as he turned to see if Dane was on his way out, he wondered if he’d ever get over this shit. Kevin, Dane’s work buddy, lifted one hand in greeting then yanked his hood over his head before scarpering down the road. Waste of time, that. He’d be soaked before he even got home.

Adam sighed, staring at the shop doorway for signs of Dane. The lights still blazed inside, looking for all the world like the shop was open, yet it had closed over half an hour ago. He gave the door a push, expecting it to be locked, but it opened with the same clack it had made when Kevin had left. The heater above the door blasted a welcome hot breeze, and Adam shivered again, rainwater dripping from his hair and into his eyes.

He stared around the shop, hoping to catch sight of Dane, but he was either in the office securing the takings or in the storeroom. Either way, it was a bit mental leaving the door unlocked like that, considering the element that lived around there.

“Dane?”

He waited a few beats for a response and, after not getting one, turned to face the door, lifting his arm to snap the bolts across. They slid into place easily, and he stared through the glass as he moved his hand to grab the string that pulled the blinds down.

It took a second or two for it to register that someone in a black balaclava stood on the other side, sawn-off held in gloved hands, fleshy lips slack in the sideways-oval mouth hole.

Adam’s legs went first, went to damn jelly, and his arsehole spasmed. His bollocks drew up next, and a scream brewed in his chest before his lungs strangled the fuck out of it. He willed the scream to come out, or at least some form of noise so Dane knew what was going on, but nothing came. He backed away from the door, gaze fixed on that shotgun, as though if he didn’t look away from it the thing wouldn’t be used. But hey, shit hadn’t worked out like that for him before, and, sure enough, the burly bastard holding it tucked it under his armpit and took aim.

Adam darted to the right, hiding beside the floor-to-ceiling shelf unit in front of the window that held breakfast cereals and chocolate digestive biscuits. He’d bought a packet of those the other day and had forgotten about them, had fancied them with a hot cup of tea and a good read of the newspaper.

Funny how crap like that came to mind when you were scared shitless.

He backed down the aisle, thinking that if he got to the other end he’d be able to run like hell to the rear of the shop, warn Dane and call the police. Memories from…from before came, and he batted them away, knowing if he let them run free he’d be as good as dead. That bloke out there could still see him from where he was, could still shoot through the glass and kill Adam’s sorry arse.

Turning his back and praying he’d make it, Adam legged it, scooting around the corner, almost falling from his shoes being so wet. He ran to the back of the store, nudging an end unit holding cheese Doritos and jars of salsa dip. They went flying, glass smashing behind him, and all Adam could think about was getting to Dane, getting to where he was safe.

He plunged through the storeroom door, spotting Dane hunched over a large cardboard box, clipboard in hand, pencil clamped between his teeth. Dane looked up, cheesy grin spreading, and removed the pencil, slipping it behind his ear. He stood, mouth open ready to speak, and must have registered the fear on Adam’s face, because he snapped his mouth closed as quickly as he’d opened it.

“There’s a man. A fucking man!” Adam’s chest burned—burned so much he thought his lungs would burst.

“Aww, come on now.” Dane stepped forward, dropping the clipboard into the open box. “You can’t keep doing this every time you see a guy in the dark. I told you before, it was a random attack, it—”

“There’s a fucking man! Shotgun. Balaclava.” Adam jabbed his thumb in the air over his shoulder, glancing that way to make sure the man wasn’t behind him.

“Fuck!” Dane’s face paled, and he strode past Adam, yanking the door open and bursting into the office.

Adam followed, trailing him right up the arse. Dane stared at two monitors on the desk, one showing the back entrance, the other showing the front, then turned to face Adam.

“There’s no one there,” he said.

“Call the police anyway.” Adam leaned on the desk, peering at the screens. “He was right there!” He stabbed a finger at the image of the front door. “Right fucking
there!
”

“All right, calm down.”

Dane picked up the phone and dialled. Adam clenched his teeth in an effort to stave off the shivers rampaging all over him, folded his arms across his middle to give himself a bit of comfort. It had worked in the past, when he was alone at home and thought he’d heard something—someone—outside their front door. It helped calm him, get things in perspective.

It didn’t help now.

His bladder distended, and if he didn’t watch it he’d let out a stream of piss. He’d done that in the past too, pissed all over his goddamned self, ashamed at the way his body reacted to even the slightest ‘off’ noise. He should have gone to see a therapist like Dane had said, but that meant admitting he was mental, that he had a problem, and Adam wasn’t, didn’t.

You fucking well are. Do.

He ducked under the table, knowing as he scrabbled about down there he was overreacting now the gunman had gone, but he couldn’t help it. Snuggled in the corner, he took deep breaths as he listened to Dane talk to the police, closing his eyes to let that deep, sexy-as-fuck voice soothe him. The call seemed to take an age, when all Adam wanted was for Dane to hold him close, to rub his stubbly chin on the top of Adam’s head and tell him everything was going to be all right. To feel Dane’s dark brown hair wisp over his cheek and tickle his lips.

To not be afraid.

A loud hammering came from the front of the shop, and Adam jumped, banging his head on the underside of the desk. His heart stuttered, stopped for a few seconds then restarted with a God-awful beat that was too fast and hurt too bloody much. He gulped, lungs constricting and not allowing any air in, and panicked, flailing his arms and whacking his heels on the floor.

“It’s the police already,” Dane said, hunkering down and peering at him. “It’s okay, it’s the police.”

Adam’s lungs inflated and, nauseated, he fisted his burning eyes. Adrenaline surged through him, sending him lightheaded, disoriented. He blinked, seeing Dane as a blurry shape, and reached out a hand so he could feel his warm touch.

“They stayed on the phone the whole time,” Dane said. “And now I have to let them in, all right?” He squeezed Adam’s fingers. “You coming out?”

Adam shook his head, pulling his hand away. He drew his knees up, curling his arms around them, and waited for the pulse in his throat to stop its incessant, deafening throb.

“Okay.” Dane stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Adam wanted to call out, to tell him to be careful, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He rested his head back, staring at the underside of the desk at a hardened nub of chewing gum someone had stuck there. It reminded him of school, of being a kid again, and he cursed.

Who said when you grew up you didn’t get scared anymore? Who said things got better?

In no time the office door swung open, and Adam saw Dane’s feet accompanied by four more—feet encased in shiny black shoes with droplets of rain on them.

“Does that work?” a man said.

“Yeah. You want me to rewind it?” Dane asked.

“Please. And where’s the person who saw the gunman?”

“Uh, he’s under there.”

Adam felt all kinds of a prick, but he was fucked if he could make himself come out. One pair of the black shoes moved, came to a stop in front of the desk, and creaked as a police officer hunched down and looked at him.

“You all right there, son?”

Adam nodded.

“Gave you a bit of a scare, did he?”

“Yeah, just a bit. Like before.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit.

“Like before?”

“Yeah. I was attacked…”
Why tell him that?

“Ah, I see. Right. You okay to come out, tell us what happened?”

“What, about what happened before, or…?”

“Just now, son.”

Relief bled into Adam’s system—he didn’t fancy reliving that other time again—and he found the courage to crawl out. He stood, embarrassed as hell, and perched his arse on the corner of the desk. Knitted his fingers. Twiddled his thumbs.

“There he is,” the other officer said.

Adam glanced across to the door sharply, surprised to see a female officer there, then berated himself for being an arsehole in thinking she shouldn’t be out on a call like this. She stared at a monitor, walking towards the desk, and pursed her lips.