Desires' Guardian (21 page)

He cocked his head, listening but not turning yet. He couldn’t explain to himself why he was upset, so how could he make Rhys understand?

“I wanted to return the pleasure, make you feel good. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I know that. I do, I just….” He shrugged, at a total loss for words.

“Someone treated you that way, huh?”

He cringed, hating how easily Rhys could read him. He shrugged, hoping Rhys wouldn’t push.

“Chase, talk to me.” It was an order, not a request.

“It’s not important. Really,” he added and turned, wrapping his arms around Rhys’s waist. “I’m being stupid.” He didn’t want to discuss how crappy his relationship with Jonathan had been or why he’d left the ass. Hell, it had been years since he’d even seen Jon, so he was pissed at himself for letting old pains still hurt him.

Rhys sighed but hugged Chase back. “One day soon you are going to have to start opening up some.”

Chase shifted back and pulled on his cuff, knowing Rhys was right. He still hadn’t told him about his exes, his family, or let Rhys see his scars. He knew Rhys knew about what had happened, how his uncle had almost killed them both instead of only Ethan, but he still feared Rhys’s reaction. “I’ll try,” he mumbled, frustrated by how a blowjob had turned into
this
.

Instead of responding as Chase had expected him to, Rhys took hold of his left hand and raised it to his lips. “You,” he whispered across Chase’s knuckles. “Are an amazing.” He flipped Chase’s hand and kissed his palm. “Strong,” he continued, and slipped the first buckle on the cuff loose. “Man, that I’m,” he murmured and unhooked the other thin buckle. “Honored to know. And nothing in your past will change that.” Rhys slipped the leather piece off his wrist and looked down at the only truly ugly place on his body.

“I know, nasty,” Chase choked out, hating the scar almost as much as he hated that he’d done that to himself. Chase expected revulsion or at least the Rhys patented scowl. What he got instead made his head spin and his heart hurt.

“It’s a battle scar, same as any on me,” Rhys countered. Instead of pulling back, he leaned down and teased the twisted flesh with the tip of his tongue.

Chase gasped, then moaned. No one had ever touched him there. He never imagined someone would want to. “You don’t have to do…. Oh God, Rhys. Why are you—”

“Why am I doing this?” Rhys asked, then teased his wrist again with tongue and lips. “Because all of you is worthy of attention and love, sweetheart.”

His eyes prickled, but he fought back the tears. How could Rhys be so…. He wasn’t even certain what Rhys was being, but it boggled his mind. “Can we…. Will you….”

“What, Chase? What do you need?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Rhys scooped him up and headed to the bedroom. He settled down on the bed, but instead of getting friendly like he normally would, Rhys draped Chase over his body, holding his damaged wrist and rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin that was normally never exposed.

He wanted to fight the strange actions of his lover, but instead he found himself dozing off, reality fading until even the steady thumping of Rhys’s heart beneath his ear lulled him, and soon, sleep took him completely.

C
HASE
WAS
at his huge computer desk working on an interactive customer system for one of his clients when his attention was drawn away from the monitor and specs sheet by arguing. Sometimes clients got loud when Rhys or Mark gave them bad news, like a husband receiving proof his devoted wife wasn’t so devoted, but this sounded different. Besides, it was still early, and he didn’t remember Rhys having any client meetings that morning.

He saved and locked the computer, and then he stepped away to find out what was going on. Before he made it past the doorway, Grayson was right on his heels. When he looked out, he noted Rhys was following—or maybe chasing—a short, stocky cop toward the IT area.

“Step just outside the tech area, but don’t get too far,” Grayson whispered.

Chase turned enough to see the man out of the corner of his eye. “What’s going on?” he asked just as softly.

“Don’t know, but Rhys is pissed, and I’m not moving from your side until things calm down.”

Chase was certain Grayson meant the words to soothe, but instead they made him more concerned about why a cop was storming his way. Deciding to go for friendly instead of scared or hostile, he put on his best face and smiled. “Hello, Officer.”

The cop stopped abruptly in front of him, looked him up and down once, and sneered. “You Chase Manning?”

“Yep, that’s me. How can I help you?” Chase saw Rhys tense and his mouth open, but he cut him off before he could lay into the guy. “Rhys, shush.”

He reached out and snagged Rhys’s arm, pulling him to stand on his other side, effectively placing Rhys and Grayson as his guards.

If anything, the sneer turned into a full-on scowl of revulsion. “Ruiz. Officer Ruiz. Think you can remember that?”

Chase blinked a few times, irritated with the hostility and the disgust dripping from the man’s words. “Sure. Now, how ’bout you tell me what it is you need from me so you can hurry up and leave, since you so obviously don’t want to be here.”

“Damn freaks,” Ruiz muttered before pulling out a notepad and looking it over.

Rhys tensed again, but Chase tightened his grip, hoping he could control things instead of Rhys ending up in jail. He had no idea what had already been said, but Rhys seemed ready to kill.

“Did you know a Randall Tyler?”

Did, not do?
“I know Randy. Haven’t seen him in probably close to two years. Why?” What the hell is going on?

“Thought so. Seems another of your pervy exes slipped on a blade and died. Don’t suppose you….”

He was certain the man kept talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. All he could hear was the sudden roaring in his ears as he flashed back to the day he’d run into his cousin’s room, then into his bathroom, and found his best friend and closest thing to a brother—twin, practically—any kid could have in the tub full of red water. Any thoughts after that were too muddled to process.

Rhys’s rage-filled scream tore him from his breakdown. It still took him a moment to figure out what the hell was going on. Mark and Grayson each had one of Rhys’s arms as he struggled against their hold, screaming at the cop.

“I’ll have your damn badge, you homophobic piece of shit. Get off my property and stay away from Chase!”

The two men continued to throw insults, both red-faced and screaming when the reality of what was happening finally hit Chase. Shaking so hard he could barely walk, he threw himself against Rhys’s back, wrapping his arms around him. He pressed close, making sure Rhys could feel all of him. “Rhys, stop it. Now.”

Rhys stilled and went quiet, though Chase could feel him trembling with barely restrained violence. Chase turned his head toward Mark, not shifting even a millimeter from his irate boyfriend. He struggled to ignore both his memories and the cop’s venomous words. “Mark, please escort the officer out, and then call whoever you need to to report his actions.”

“I’m here to question you!” Ruiz snapped, clutching his service weapon. Chase was thankful to see the strap was still secure.

“I will come down to the station with my lawyer and answer any legitimate questions asked of me. For now, though, leave or deal with the consequences.”

“How dare you threaten me,” Ruiz growled. He took a step forward, which was all that was needed for Rhys to lunge for the man. If it weren’t for the hold all three of them had on Rhys, he would have connected, Chase was certain.

Moments later, two cops came in the front door and dragged Ruiz out with them. They both apologized but left quickly. It took a good half hour for Chase to piece it all together, most of which Rhys spent pacing and growling at anyone who got near him. Randall Tyler, or Randy as his friends called him, had been found in his apartment, wrists slashed, early that morning. There had been signs of obsession all over his room. Things such as dozens and dozens of photos of Chase taken with telescopic lenses and candles surrounding a photo of Chase. And just like with Mike, Randy was one of his exes. But he couldn’t believe the possessive markers he learned of—that wasn’t Randy’s style. Besides, they had ended as friends, though not close ones.

His work forgotten, he sat in the reception area, watching Rhys and pondering what to do. “Rhys? What are we missing? Why can’t anyone figure out who’s doing this?”

Rhys stopped and faced him, finally seeming to see him again. “I don’t know. There’s no trace of whoever this psycho is, or if there is, the police aren’t sharing that info with us.”

“There wasn’t anything in any of the stuff you brought in either,” Grayson added as he came over to where he sat. “I get how the police might miss something, but I don’t understand how the killer’s staying ahead of Rhys and Mark. But, uh….” he trailed off, looking away from Chase suddenly.

“But what?” Rhys snapped, turning toward Grayson.

Grayson shifted from foot to foot, staring down. After a moment, he raised his gaze to meet Chase’s. “You might think about tracking down any other exes still living in the area.” His eyes flicked to Rhys and back. “Not like tricks or anything, but this is your second ex the killers have taken out. Others from your past may be in danger as well.”

Since he’d snapped out of his memories earlier, Chase had managed to ignore implications and fears such as those. Now, however, it all came crashing down on him again, and before he knew it, the world got dark around the edges, and Rhys was kneeling beside him, rubbing his back and demanding he breathe.

“Come on, breathe, sweetheart. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you, promise.”

“As do I,” Mark said the same time as Grayson said, “Agreed.”

Chase sat back in the chair, fighting to get control of his fears and feelings, not something he usually had so much trouble doing. “I know you won’t, none of you. My head gets it, really, even if the rest of me forgets sometimes. Sorry for being such a wuss,” he mumbled, mortified he’d fallen apart again.

“You’re not,” Rhys countered. “But Grayson’s right. Any other exes in the area still might be in danger. They need to be warned.”

Chase nodded, looking around. His eyes landed on Nichelle as she peeked over her desk, chewing her bottom lip. “Nikki, you okay?” he asked.

She nodded with quick, jerky movements. “Just scared for you, that’s all. Oh, and Rhys, 911 has most of what that ass said to you and Chase, so….” She paused and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Call your lawyer friend, Mr. Holcomb, and isn’t your dad friends with that idiot’s captain? I recognized him. He works with Dal.”

Rhys’s worried face morphed to one of evil glee in the blink of an eye. “He does?” When she nodded, he grinned.

“And how do they have a recording?” Mark asked.

“’Cause I called 911 and stayed on the phone with them the entire time. So, you,” she said, looking at Rhys, “nail his ass.” She then turned to Chase. “And you, do you need help finding anyone? I’ll help you look up numbers and such if you want.”

Twenty minutes later, Rhys was in his office making calls, Grayson was hard at work behind Chase, and Chase was staring at the phone number and address of his only other still local ex. God, he did not want to talk to Jonathan. Ever. Nevertheless, he knew leaving the man clueless was wrong and stupid, especially since he’d heard Jonathan had a family. He also knew trying to call would be pointless. As soon as Jonathan figured out who it was, he would hang up and either not answer again or block his calls.

It had been a few weeks between each death, though it didn’t seem like it with how time passed since he and Rhys had become a couple. He decided he wasn’t ready for the confrontation yet, though. Instead, he spent part of the afternoon talking on the phone to James about everything. He hated to burden his BFF, but Jamie was the only person he could tell all this to who would understand and not judge or try to “fix it” for him.

He’d only just hung up with James when Rhys appeared in the doorway, a deep frown marring his handsome, chiseled face. “Chase?”

“What’s up, hun?” He was annoyed at how flat his voice was, knowing it would make Rhys worry, but unable to make himself sound more normal.

“Just got off the phone with Dal, and he needs you to come down for a formal interview. Carter—his captain and a friend of our dad’s—decided since you and Dal are friends, he’d make Dal the liaison for this meeting.”

“Okay. That is what we told them to do, so it shouldn’t surprise you. But hey, the guys in charge of Dal’s precinct were good to James, so I see no reason to think the ass hat from earlier is indicative of how I’ll be treated.”

“Naw, Carter won’t let that happen. Besides, I already called Mel Holcomb, Seth’s lawyer, and he’ll meet us there.”

“Yes, hun, I know who Mel is,” Chase teased gently. “Thanks for calling him. This is all so crazy.”

“I know, but I’m not willing to risk anything more happening, so I’ll drive you over and wait. Dal will be there too, so you’ll be safe.”