Desires' Guardian (17 page)

At the mention of the “s” word, Chase froze again. He knew that was the MO of the psycho doing this, but oh God! “H-how did he die?”

“Slit his wrists in the bath. Though he may have actually….”

He couldn’t hear anything else said, his mind spinning and sticking on the word “wrists.” His eyes flicked down to the wrist cuff he wore. The cuff that was identical to the one he kept in his lock box. That one had been Ethan’s before…. Before that horrible day….

Chase had been with friends at the mall, hanging out and eating crap his mom would kill him for if she knew. His cell had lit up while they were in a movie, and he’d hit End quickly, not wanting to deal with whining patrons or grumpy words just ’cause he’d forgotten to turn the thing off.

When he exited the mall later that afternoon, he’d switched his phone back on. When he checked the missed call, it was Ethan and there was a voice mail.
Cool.

Moments later, he heard E’s voice. “I can’t take it anymore, Chase. I just can’t! Dad did it again, screaming how he was going to beat the gay out of me.” His voice broke, and Chase could hear him crying before he whispered, “If he doesn’t kill me next time, he’s going to send me to one of those reprogramming camps. Please forgive me.”

Chase stood by his car, frozen for a moment until his brain kicked in. He’d jumped into the car and sped across town, hoping to get to Ethan before he did something stupid, or worse… permanent. About a block away from Ethan’s house, lights flashed behind him and a siren chirped, but he kept going. No way was he going to lose his cousin, his brother really, to hate and prejudice because he stopped on his way there!

He parked half on the curb, threw his door open, and sprinted into the house, screaming for Ethan. He knew someone was chasing him, but he didn’t care if it was some cop or one of E’s parents. All he knew was he had to get to Ethan before it was too late.

Someone grabbed his arm, but he shook them off, tearing into Ethan’s bedroom. Empty! He looked around, terrified, and noticed the bathroom door, cracked. Blind fear gripped him, and he bolted through the door. Moments later, he knelt on the wet floor, screaming, “Ethan!”

“Chase!” Rhys bellowed, yanking him out of the nightmare that had been his teen years.

Not able to completely shake the memories or sense of crushing loss, he curled against Rhys’s broad chest and cried for Ethan, for Michael. His throat hurt, and he was so tired he could barely think.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he became aware the light was all wrong and he lay atop Rhys on the couch. The man’s powerful arms were still wrapped around him tightly.

“Cariadon
?
” Rhys’s voice was gentle, like an adult might speak to a terrified, small child. “You with me again?”

Chase nodded, but didn’t speak yet. Would Rhys be disgusted? Irritated?

Chase felt the huge sigh he let out. “Thank you,” Rhys rumbled. “Chase, where’d you go earlier?”

“To a time I’d rather forget,” he mumbled into Rhys’s shoulder.

“And Ethan?”

“Best friend and cousin growing up, but his parents didn’t take to his coming out as well as mine did.”

“And how Michael died made you think of your friend?”

Chase heard the curiosity in Rhys’s voice, but telling that whole story was beyond him right then. “I can’t, Rhys. I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about Ethan yet.”

“Chase—”

“No, listen to me, if you want to know about Ethan, go ask James. He knows it all. But, please, I can’t work on this one. The others were bad enough, but I just can’t.”

“Shhh…. No one wants you to. I called a friend from my military days. He’ll be here later today to help.”

“Huh?” Chase looked up, confused. “If you have a buddy who does computer forensics, why’d you get James to con me into working for you?”

“I didn’t get him to do anything. If you recall, I wasn’t overly happy at the time, though for a different reason than your ire. No, my buddy, Grayson Miles, isn’t local. He lives in DC but agreed to help out after I explained the situation.”

“Oh. You’re not getting rid of me, are you?” he asked, knowing his outburst and tears had likely freaked Rhys out. The last person who’d found out some of the details of Ethan and that time of his life dumped him over it.

“No, dear. A soaked T-shirt or two won’t
chase
me off.”

“Not funny,” he grumbled and swatted the chest he still sprawled across. “I’ll let your friend have access to the stuff he needs, but he has to stay out of my area. At least unsupervised. That’s my firm’s office area too.” Chase sat up so fast he nearly fell. “Oh God. What time is it?”

“Careful. It’s, um, almost ten now. But being I’m your boss, I’ll forgive you being tardy.”

“I have a teleconference at eleven. Dammit,” he grumbled, knowing he looked like crap and an hour would not fix how puffy and red his eyes likely were.

“Go get ready. I’ll drive us to work, okay?”

“Thanks, Rhys. For everything.” He hurried into his bedroom to grab a quick shower and dress to restart the day. Surely, it would all get better from here….
Right?

L
ATER
THAT
day, Rhys came into his office area, a wary look on his chiseled, handsome face. “Chase?”

It took a moment for him to blink himself out of code and keyboards, but he turned to face Rhys once he could focus on the real world again. “Huh? What’s up?”

“You remember my old service buddy is supposed to come today to help you with the murder cases? I wanted to introduce you to him and make sure things were settled before I have to head out for a bit.”

Confused at Rhys’s nervousness, Chase nodded, assuming it would make more sense later. “Sure. I set him up a workspace already.” He looked past Rhys but didn’t see anyone waiting. “Um, unless he’s invisible, I don’t see him.”

“He’s waiting out front with Nikki. I thought it best to warn you first.”

He thought that over, not liking the idea. Was Rhys babying him because he thought Chase couldn’t share space or because of his meltdown earlier? Either way, he didn’t like the implications. “Why, won’t I like him? Is he some homophobic prick or”—Chase smirked up at Rhys, hoping to dispel his worries—“all gross scary looking or something?”

For the first time all day, Rhys cracked a smile. “No, he’s neither of those. First off, he bats for our team. Secondly, I’m told many men have thought him quite handsome, though I can’t see it.” He chuckled. “But you can be a little… territorial about your space, so I thought it best to advise you he’d arrived.”

Territorial?
Only of his personal systems, friends, and lover. Not over space. Usually. “Okay, bring in Mr. Hot Shot IT. Should be fun to hear about what kind of guy you were in your Marine days.” Rhys grumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that, hun?”

“Nothing. Just be nice.”

“I always am,” he quipped, though his heart wasn’t in it.

Five minutes later, he was back with a somewhat cute guy in tow. Chase did the once-over, checking out his new office mate. Long dark-chocolate-brown hair, light amber eyes, and tall. He was almost as tall as Rhys—maybe six three or four? Thinner build but not a lightweight by any means. The deeply tanned skin and high cheekbones spoke of a Native American heritage, though he wasn’t sure which tribe. What caught his attention most was the slight hump to his nose, as if it had been broken a time or two, and the distinctive scar across his left cheek. Altogether, he looked both dangerous and handsome, though not nearly as much as Rhys.

“This is Chase. Chase, this is Miles, and he’ll be your tech roomie for now,” Rhys said, motioning to each man in turn. “This is Chase’s area, so I’ll let him show you around and explain what’s what.”

Chase stuck out his hand and mustered a small smile for the well-dressed man. “Chase Manning.”

“Grayson Miles. This one here”—he nodded to Rhys—“still calls me by my last name at times. Also, he tells me you run his IT section and have a consulting firm?”

“I do. You would think computers were strange alien beasts the way he goes on when he needs something ‘hard.’”

The man smiled, not showing any teeth, but it looked genuine to Chase. “Yeah, he’s always been that way. So, would you mind?” he added as he turned. The wide-eyed stare made Chase smile, a real smile that time. “We never get such nice equipment where I work now,” he added, awed.

“You may go, Rhys. I can show him around on my own.” It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Rhys trying to lighten his load or being considerate, but he was getting sick of the hovering. He was a grown man and fully capable of being both professional and mature.

Rhys arched his brows but held his tongue, a fact Chase was thankful for right then. He nodded, clasped Grayson on the shoulder, and left the area.

“So, I set you up over here. Rhys didn’t tell me what equipment you might bring, but if you need anything more than what’s here, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Thanks,” Grayson said, his voice strong yet soft. The dichotomy of the man was as perplexing as it was confusing. This man was a hardened Marine? “Let me get my things, and we’ll see where I need to begin.”

“Sure. Come on, I’ll help you unload. Ask one of our muscle-bound bosses and no telling what might happen,” Chase teased and led the way out front. As he passed the reception desk, Nichelle gave him a small smile and he returned it, but by the sigh and sad look, he figured it hadn’t been good enough to relieve her worry.

R
HYS
STOOD
out front of James’s stone cottage-like home, torn between knocking on the door to find out what he needed to know and turning around. He was a PI, though, and unanswered questions were like an itch under his skin, not something he took to well. Swallowing his indecision, he raised his hand and knocked.

After a few moments, he heard movement and the door opened. James stood before him, little flecks of paint on his hands and the forearm crutches he used. Barefoot and dressed in his usual painting garb of a T-shirt and threadbare jeans, he looked up and smiled. “Hey, Rhys. What brings you by this time of day?”

Well, that question answered whether Chase had let him know about the murder or if he’d offered up Rhys as his storyteller. “Hi, Jay. May I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.” James maneuvered to let him past and then closed the door. “Let’s head into the kitchen. Want a drink? I’ve got coffee, bottled water, or I can make you some tea.”

“Water would be fine, thanks.” He followed James in, grabbing a bottle of water for each of them before settling on one of the kitchen stools.

James washed up, then took his stool; it had wheels, and no one, not even his stepdaughter Danni, was allowed to use it. “From the dark cloud around you, I’m assuming this isn’t a happy visit.”

“Haven’t caught the news or talked to Chase, huh?”

“No, why?”

He spent the next half hour telling James everything that had happened that morning, including Chase’s freak-out and about him screaming “Ethan.” Partway through, James asked him to stop talking and sent a series of texts back and forth with someone before motioning Rhys to continue. Once he was done with his retelling of the death and Chase’s reaction, Rhys felt drained, and he hadn’t even heard the rest yet. He knew he had to find out what Chase had sent him there to hear, though.

“What I don’t know, though, is what happened from there. After he found his cousin, I mean. Or what it is he thinks you can tell me. I mean, you didn’t meet until college, so I’m a little confused. Beyond that, I’m worried about him.”

“No, we didn’t, but just as he was my champion, I was his focus for a long time as he fought to become the man you now know.” James stared out the back window, eyes unfocused, not speaking for a few minutes. “He told you to ask me about Ethan and the year afterward,” he explained, holding his cell up with a sad smile. “Did he tell you how we actually met?”

Rhys shook his head. “College is all either of you has said.”

“Mm…. We met at Dr. Wolfe’s office. She was the psychologist I went to after I escaped the hell my last year of home was. Chase had been seeing her for a time at that point. Our appointments seemed to coincide often, and eventually, we started chatting while waiting to be called back or for a ride to show up.”

“Okay, I get he had a really hard time with not only losing his cousin but being the one to find him. That would mess up anyone.”

“Ethan wasn’t just his cousin. He was Chase’s best friend and confidant.” James fidgeted and sighed, his look screaming annoyance. “You’re a PI, and you never noticed he always answers his phone? And I do mean
always
. Or that no one ever sees him without his leather cuff. One he has worn every day since before I met him. I figured when I talked you into hiring him, you’d dig a little into his past.”

“I did,” Rhys snapped, knowing he sounded defensive. “But teen records are sealed, not that I found even those on him.”

“Had you known the right things to ask or dug more, you would have found that a couple of months after Ethan died—his entire family blames his uncle to this day, by the way—Chase almost joined him. They call it survivor’s guilt.”