The Way Things Are (29 page)

“Sketchbooks?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a big apartment, but I don’t have room for eight million old sketchbooks.”

“Are they…?” Ken stopped himself from asking if Patrick and his son would be staying with Corbin. Then he felt stupid. A week ago, he’d have no qualms whatsoever asking. Working in probation and parole, it was his job to know where his clients were likely to be at any given time. Jay wasn’t his client anymore, but he wouldn’t let that stop him asking about any of the other kids on his caseload. “Are they going to be staying at your place?”

“Yes, even though it’s a horrible idea. My place isn’t exactly kid friendly,” Corbin said. “But the superhot police detective said if Pat’s determined to stay here, the best thing he can do is clean the place up fast, rearrange the furniture, and get the locks changed. So I’m taking Jay while Pat cleans up. I’m going to post one of my boys on the stairs up to my apartment, just to make sure Jay doesn’t come downstairs and no one else wanders up, so it should be safe.”

Ken cracked a smile. “Superhot detective?”

“Smoking hot. He looks a lot like you, but all angry and muscle-bound. Of course, every police officer I’ve seen recently seems to look like you.”

“There should only be two of them who look anything like me,” Ken said quickly. “And the detective has been kind of a dick today.”

“The hot ones usually are,” Corbin said. “Pat’s not thinking about anything beyond getting Jay the hell out of here. Nine times out of ten, he’s this big tough guy who’ll take on the entire world with a smile on his face—but the moment the kid’s in trouble, he just sort of breaks.”

Ken wasn’t sure if this was another test, and he didn’t care. “Pat’s right. I’ll try to talk him out of staying here tonight, but getting Jay somewhere safe needs to come first.”

Jay stomped out into the living room and kicked a ripped chunk of foam that had once padded their sofa.

“Ken?” Patrick called from somewhere down the hall.

Ken followed the sound of his voice to Patrick’s bedroom. He stepped into the bedroom and gasped as Patrick’s massive arms closed around him like a vise. The door clicked behind him, and Ken found his face buried in the crook of Patrick’s neck, felt him shaking against him. Ken brought his arms up around Patrick’s back and held him as tight as he could.

“Thank you,” Patrick breathed, his voice trembling. “Thank you for bringing him home.” The shaking got faster, as if every muscle in Patrick’s body was twitching at once. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you enough. But we can’t do this. None of those cops were willing to go look for him, not one of them cared, just because of
this
. He’s always the one who gets hurt when people find out, and I can’t….”

When Patrick tried to pull away from him, Ken squeezed him tighter. “You think Mal didn’t go look for him because we’re together?” He tried to laugh, but the serious expression on Patrick’s face killed the attempt. “Well, you’re wrong. He didn’t want to go look for Jay because he was pissed off at me for compromising his investigation. But he did put out an alert over the police dispatch channel, so every other officer in Seattle was looking for him. And I found Jay. He was actually right where he said he’d be. Kind of.”

Patrick looked at him dejectedly. The shaking had slowed down a little, though. “But what if he actually needed help? What if he was actually in trouble?”

“He wasn’t. Stop imagining the worst for a moment, okay? Malcolm was just angry. If his supervisor knew that the key witness in his case is also his little brother’s lover, he’d be off the case in about half a second. Especially since he thinks the break-in might be related to the body you found at the docks.”

“But you….”

Ken cupped Patrick’s face, rose up on his toes, and kissed him. “I’m here for you. Even if the whole world explodes, I’ll help you keep him safe. Let’s get Jay out of here. After that, if you want to start cleaning up, we’ll clean up.”

Patrick shut his eyes and leaned his forehead down. “Thank you,” he whispered again.

Chapter 13

I
T
TOOK
a half-dozen phone calls to find a locksmith who could come to Patrick’s apartment that night. Despite Corbin’s promise he would take Jay back to his place, they lingered in the trashed apartment, waiting for even the basic security of a deadbolt to be restored.

As soon as the police began to filter out, Patrick pulled out a roll of garbage bags from the kitchen, which had largely been untouched, and began to cram shredded paper, upholstery, and broken glass into the bags. Ken tossed his jacket on the kitchen counter and grabbed another bag. Even with Jay and Corbin helping, they only managed to make a dent in the mess. By ten, a new deadbolt was installed, and the locksmith had recommended a security company who could install a new alarm system the next day. Patrick had tried to protest when Ken handed the locksmith his own credit card, but Ken held up a single hand and cut him off. “Don’t argue about it. You’re going to have to spend enough money replacing anything your insurance won’t cover.”

When Jay was too tired to keep cleaning, Corbin ushered Jay toward the door, glaring at Patrick. “You should be coming with us,” he said to a roll of Patrick’s eyes. “At least until the alarm is put in tomorrow.”

Patrick shook his head slowly. He couldn’t explain how coming home to a destroyed apartment had left him feeling more uneasy than finding that body Saturday night. If he was on edge and feeling threatened, Jay was probably freaking out behind the quiet withdrawn mask his expression had become. He had to get their home back to normal. He had to give Jay back that feeling of safety and refuge that had been ripped from both of them. “I’ve got to make this right. The sooner I can get it done, the better. Just keep an eye on him for me?”

“I will take it upon myself to be an overbearing helicopter parent for the night. Or I’ll try, anyway. You should take it upon yourself to get a hotel with the sexy probation officer and unwind.”

“This comes first.” The unspoken assertion was always the same.
Jay comes first.

“What do you do when Jay breaks down and you need to do something human like go to work or sleep?”

Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and smiled ruefully. “I go to work. I sleep. Then I go bail him out.”

“Well, tonight you can do whatever you’ve got to do. I’ve got it. Just call me when you’re ready for me to bring him home tomorrow.”

Jay leaned his head back into the apartment. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Good,” Corbin laughed. “Did you hear me when I said my boys aren’t going to let you out of the apartment?”

“You can’t have a little faith in me? I’m fifteen now, not ten!”

Patrick wanted to laugh when he saw the certainty in Corbin’s eyes waver. “Of course I have faith in you,” Corbin insisted. “But you can’t come through the club during business hours. It’s illegal.”

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m a prisoner,” Jay muttered, playing the guilt trip for everything he could get out of it.

Patrick met Jay’s gaze and smirked. “It’d be nice if that worked, wouldn’t it?”

Corbin stared between them. Jay dropped his gaze and kicked at the floor.

“Huh?” Corbin asked.

“Kiddo, this isn’t a punishment or a consequence. It’s not safe here right now. Until there’s an alarm and I know someone’s going to come if it goes off, Uncle Corbin gets to be overprotective. You will get settled in, get something to eat, and go to bed. Tomorrow you’re stuck hanging out at his place except for school. You won’t go anywhere else. Is that clear?”

Jay just glared at him.

“Jay….”

“Yes! I just wish you’d trust me!”

“I trust you enough to give you your cell phone back and your video games.”

Jay kicked the floor again. “Whatever.”

Corbin glanced at Patrick, trying not to smirk. “Does that mean ‘yes’?”

“I like to think so.”

Patrick watched them until they were on the stairs, then moved over what was left of his couch and watched the street below from his front window. Two large men in dark clothes stood outside of a black van with the Corbin’s Attic logo painted on the side. One of them was David, and Patrick was a bit surprised to see the man ruffle Jay’s hair before gently shoving him into the van. Corbin waved up at the window without even looking back at the building, then climbed in beside Jay.

“I’m glad he’s taking this seriously,” Ken said softly.

“You should go too,” Patrick whispered.

“When you’re done for the night, we’ll go.”

“Ken….”

Ken tensed beside him. Patrick saw his fingers curl into fists, but Ken kept his tone calm and controlled. “You can’t hope to get this all cleaned up tonight on your own. When shit calms down, when there’s an alarm on the door, I won’t stick around if you don’t want me to. Until then, Jay’s stuck at Corbin’s place, and you’re stuck with me.”

“Ken, I….”

Ken chuckled and set both his hands on Patrick’s waist. Ken spun them around until he felt the windowsill press against his upper thighs. “Do you know you’re just as stubborn as your son?” Ken ran his hands around Patrick’s hips, tugging him forward until they touched. Ken thrust his hips against him, forcing Patrick’s attention to focus on the grinding, hot body against him.

Patrick hissed and tried to step back, but he didn’t push Ken away. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. The reason I’m good at my job, Pat, is because I am more stubborn than any of the kids on my caseload. I can also be more manipulative than them when I need to be. I don’t have to be fair. I don’t argue. I don’t negotiate. And I don’t give in, especially not when something is important to me. If you don’t want me here tonight, go get your coat and come home with me.”

Patrick almost whined when Ken stepped away from him. “How do you know I won’t kick your ass out, just to prove I can?”

Ken smiled and cupped Patrick’s cock through his pants. “You can. You don’t have to prove it. But if I stay, we can get this place back to normal twice as fast. Plus I don’t think you want to kick me out.”

Patrick grabbed Ken by the nape of his neck and pulled him close enough to bump his nose against Ken’s. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I don’t think I’m going to be in the mood to do much of anything. This….” Patrick gestured around at the mess.

“I wasn’t assuming.” Ken pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then grabbed a new garbage bag. As he began shoveling what was left of Patrick’s couch cushions into the black bag, he began to sing quietly.

Patrick listened to the melody for a few minutes, letting himself enjoy the flutter of nerves in the pit of his stomach. Indulging this crazy attraction had helped tone down the frantic heat he felt every time he saw Ken—the burning lust had settled into a much more reasonable tingling of anticipation—but Ken’s voice still cut through his thoughts and left him burning.

By the time they finished carrying out bags of trash and most of Patrick’s broken furniture, it was nearly four in the morning. Patrick grabbed his jacket and the small bag of toiletries he’d managed to put together from the debris on the bathroom floor, then tossed Ken his coat.

“I think we’re done for now,” he told Ken. “You’ve gone from limping to whimpering when you step down wrong.”

“I can keep going.”

“But we haven’t eaten or stopped for one of those painkillers.”

“There’ll be time for that eventually.”

“You’re practically falling over.” Patrick nudged Ken toward the door. He locked the new deadbolt and the regular lock, then steered Ken toward the elevator. “Why don’t you just ride with me?”

“Yeah, okay. I don’t know how you work this late every night.”

Ken slouched against Patrick in the elevator. He tugged Patrick’s arm around his waist and shut his eyes. He managed to stay awake long enough to give Patrick directions back to his townhouse, although Patrick didn’t really need them. Ken swallowed a muscle relaxer in the car, and he was already groggy by the time Patrick helped him upstairs and managed to wiggle him out of his clothes.

Patrick hesitated for a moment, then stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed beside Ken. Ken wrapped his arms and legs around Patrick and plastered his cheek to Patrick’s chest.

In the darkness, listening to Ken’s even breathing, Patrick smiled. Unlike his trashed apartment, this felt safe. Whatever was going to come of this mess, there was no reason not to relax and forget about the rest of the world for a single night.

K
EN
’
S
BOSS
was abrupt and cold over the phone. “You
are
coming in today. Unless you’re hospitalized, you are coming in today. If you’re hospitalized, I’ll come to you.”

Ken squeezed his eyes shut and bit back the curse he nearly uttered. There was no point arguing that it was his day off or pointing out he’d barely gotten five hours of sleep. His job came with the simple understanding that he would be available as needed twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year. “This really isn’t a good time. What’s happened? I might be able to take care of it over the phone.”