Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners (19 page)

His body shuddered and he sniffed again, trying to clear his blocked nose. “Taylor’s the only person keeping me sane at the moment and God knows I don’t tell him much about this whole thing. He doesn’t understand that I don’t want to mess him up; he’s going through enough stuff of his own what with all the shitty deaths he sees and the feelings he has to live with. How can I lay this on him as well? I don’t even understand it all myself.”

Draven remembered a conversation he’d had with Taylor. They’d been huddled in bed, warm under the covers and talk had turned to what Taylor did and how. Draven had tucked stray strands of hair behind his lover’s ears as they talked.

“I’ve never believed in this whole life after death before and to me, this is such a reach to believe that there’s something else out there, after we leave this world. I still can’t process it.”

Taylor had sighed tiredly. “It’s strange for me too. Yes, I know I feel things, see things, but that’s a world removed from what just happened. I guess if I believe in feeling the spirits or energy of people who’ve died and I can feel their pain, see their last moments, it’s not such a huge stretch to believe that people go somewhere else when they die. Energy, soul, spirit, whatever it is. It’s not for
us
to figure out, Draven. It’s ours to either accept or not. It’s about taking a leap of faith.”

He’d wrapped warm arms around Draven’s waist. Draven had leaned back into him, as Taylor nuzzled his neck, smelling his man’s fragrance and revelling in it. “It doesn’t matter where
it
is. To every person, it might be a different place, or a world, or a realm we don’t even know about. To people who believe in heaven, that’s their place, I suppose. It’s wherever anyone wants to go when they leave this world.”

Those words still haunted him.

“Draven?” The quiet voice behind him made him start and he turned swiftly to see calm, brown eyes regarding him with compassion. Sister Alison Maduna was a fixture in this ward and her quiet, competent presence was always welcoming to all, but especially to Draven. He’d sobbed against her ample bosom more times than he’d like to admit, as she patted his back and treated him like the mother he’d lost. The reassuring West African nurse had been there for him through the past three years of hell and Draven didn’t know what he’d have done without her.

“I thought you were off duty tonight,” he croaked as he tried valiantly to dry his eyes and compose himself. She moved over to him and patted his shoulder, her warm hands on his body giving him comfort.

“No, I changed shifts with Julia. She had a family emergency so I took her shift.” She pulled over another chair with a scrape of legs against the tiled floor and set her ample buttocks down beside him. “How are you doing, baby?”

Draven waved a hand. “As you can see, I’m fine.” His voice was muffled, as his he struggled to breathe through his stuffed nose.

She smiled. “Having a bad night, huh? Is our little man giving you grief, back chatting perhaps?” She reached over and tenderly stroked Jude’s cheek. “Hey, you little rapscallion, stop making your brother cry. He’s supposed to be a big bad ass and I come in and find him in tears? Shame on you, baby. Shame on you.”

Her teasing tone to his still brother made Draven smile wanly. “Yeah, I wish, Ally. I’d take that, you know? Take anything he wanted to give me.” His voice broke again but this time the tears stayed away. Draven had cried enough tonight.

Alison cuffed his jaw line gently with large, warm fingers. “I know. I wish that too. You’ve been so brave through this, honey. I wish I could do more for you, you know? I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this all go away. Bring him back.”

Her voice was sad and the unspoken words lay between them like a freight train about to plunge off a mountain.

And you know that’s the one thing I can’t do.

She sat with Draven, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Draven took comfort in having this woman by his side, the one constant in Jude’s situation the whole time he’d been there. They had become friends of a kind inside these antiseptic walls of both grief and joy.

Finally she stood up and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. She went to Jude and did the same then the nurse checked the leads and wires keeping his brother alive, ran a critical eye over his body and checked the chart at the foot of the bed. When she had finally finished she turned to Draven, who’d been watching the activity with weary eyes.

“There. He’s comfortable enough. Aren’t you, honey?” Her hands caressed Jude’s arm. “Maybe you should go home, get some sleep, Draven. It’s been a long night.”

Draven shook his head. “No, I’m staying here tonight. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

Alison nodded. “I know when your mind’s made up, you can’t be swayed. I’ll get one of the night nurses to bring you a blanket and a cup of coffee. Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry. I had a sandwich earlier.” The sandwich had been two tasteless pieces of bread with pale slices of anaemic ham and soggy tomato between them.

Alison tut-tutted. “I know your idea of food, Draven, and it scares me. I’ll see if I can get you something a little more substantial. It was chicken and vegetables tonight and I have to say, it wasn’t too shabby.” She grinned. “I had some myself so it must have been okay. I’ll be back in a while.”

Alison disappeared out of the room. Draven sighed and got comfortable in the chair where he’d probably spend the night.

Best get hunkered down. Tonight I’m here for the long haul.

He thought of Taylor, who was probably not even in bed yet. His heart ached but he couldn’t bring himself to call him. Not yet. He was still too raw inside and he needed a little time to get his head right. He was no good to anyone at the moment, least of all himself.

*****

One week later and Draven was feeling the effects of not seeing Taylor. He missed the man like a limb that had been removed. The night he’d come home from visiting Jude, he’d had a call in the early hours of the next morning. He’d been sent on another assignment out of the country by Clay, on an assignment that had been “urgent and life threatening,” with the fate of the nation hanging in the balance. Clay could often be rather drama ridden himself. Draven had been handed an itinerary, a plane ticket to Lithuania and a grinning admonishment from his boss to keep his dick in his pants this time. Draven had texted Taylor from the airport to let him know he was going away for a while but there had been no response. His subsequent texts and phone calls had been ignored, apart from one text that Taylor had sent back after Draven’s last one, the day before he arrived back in the UK.

Tay, I’m back in London tomorrow. Can I see you to talk?

Taylor’s response had been short.
Call me. We’ll see.

Draven had scowled at that terse reply, not being a man to chase after what he wanted but the fact Taylor was willing to perhaps get together had made him feel a little better. Of course, his innate sense of bloody-mindedness made him wonder if he
would
call his lover.

Taylor isn’t the only stubborn bastard.

The case in Lithuania had been fairly straightforward, and the young hacker genius who operated out there, who had been stealing millions from a state-based charity in Russia—ostensibly based out there to help refugees—had been given an ultimatum.

Work for us or go to prison.
That had basically been Draven’s brief. The youngster, only twenty-three years old, had talents that Mortimer Investigations would find extremely useful. The money he’d stolen and amassed in an offshore bank account had been returned to the charity who had only been too relieved that it had found its way back to worry about pursuing justice for the hacker. Tomas Pavlis had vehemently defended his theft, telling Draven with glittering blue eyes that the funds were not being used for the purpose for which they were intended and Russian human rights violations made it his mission to relieve them of their funds.

It had taken some doing but Draven had managed to convince Tomas that now they’d tracked him down, handing the young hacker over to the Russian authorities had not been in anyone’s best interests and his skills would be better suited to working with Mortimer Investigations. Tomas had grudgingly seen the light and left with Draven to London on a business class ticket. Draven had been glad to deposit the rather feisty and argumentative young man into the clutches of Draven’s boss once they’d arrived in London.

The first thing he’d done when arriving back in England was visit Jude. He’d had daily reports from then nurses on how he was doing, the words “No change” being most of what was conveyed. Draven had an irrational fear that something would happen to Jude when he was out of the country and the nursing staff were used to his paranoia. Clay was a ready conduit to how his brother was faring, as he visited often too.

Draven had also given into temptation and called Taylor after he’d seen Jude. Taylor had sounded tired, and a little cool, but he’d agreed to meet Draven at Galileo’s for dinner that night. Not only did Draven want to mend bridges but he also had other news to impart, news that he hoped might take some of the weight of Drew’s death off Taylor’s shoulders and make him feel better about the whole affair.

“Sitting on your own? Is Taylor late?” came the drawl from behind him. Draven turned to see Gideon, immaculately dressed as ever, smiling at him. Luckily he didn’t have Eddie with him. Gideon’s red-headed lover wasn’t particularly enamoured of Draven. He always seemed very keen on sticking a skewer or some other kitchen implement in Draven’s flesh.

“Only by a few minutes. We agreed eight p.m., it’s just a few minutes past.” For a moment, Draven felt a surge of panic that Taylor had decided not to come after all.

“Speak of the devil…” Gideon murmured, his eyes glinting with amusement. Draven followed the direction of his friend’s eyes and held his breath on seeing Taylor. His lover (at least he hoped he still was) looked as sexy as hell. He wore tight-fitting black chinos, a deep red shirt open to the chest, and his wayward curls were swept back behind his ears. He looked like something out of
Pirates of the Caribbean
, wild and untamed, dark eyes observing Draven closely as he approached the table.

“Wow, someone has got it bad,” teased Gideon. “Might I suggest you shut your mouth a little? I doubt he’s going to put his dick in it right here and now.”

“Fuck off,” Draven growled, even as he tried to control the rising urge in his pants. “I hate you sometimes. Haven’t you got a restaurant to run?”

Gideon sniggered. “He does look
very
tempting…” he drawled. “If I didn’t have a jealous red head waiting for me, I might have a taste myself.”

Draven knew he was joking but that still didn’t stop him from snarling. “He’s mine. You can’t bloody have him.”

Gideon tut-tutted. “Possessive to the last. Now you know how I feel about Eddie. I seem to remember you laughing at me one time and telling me that I was like a rabid dog pissing on his territory. It’s not so funny when the shoe’s on the other foot, eh?”

He leaned in close as Taylor got to the table and glanced at them both uncertainly. “Don’t fuck it up,” Gideon mouthed in his ear. “This one’s a keeper.”

He straightened up and pulled out Taylor’s chair, waving for him to sit down.

“Taylor, welcome. Draven here was starting to worry you’d changed your mind.” Draven glared at him.

Gideon ignored the laser-like stare. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked Taylor.

Taylor sat down and stared between them, looking a little confused. “Uhm, a Corona please.”

Gideon waved an expansive hand and gave a mini bow. “Coming up. I’ll bring you another whisky, Dray. I’ll send someone over to take your food order later.” He turned and walked away then turned back as if he’d forgotten something. “Oh, and Taylor, Eddie said he’d cut off your balls if you didn’t say hello to him while you were here. He’s going to pop out later and say hi.”

He sauntered off and Draven rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered. “As long as he doesn’t come out with a damn meat cleaver, I’ll be fine.”

“What?” Taylor said, perplexed.

“Nothing.” Draven finished off the dregs of his whisky. “It’s just your buddy Eddie seems to have it in for me.”

Taylor smirked slightly and Draven was glad to see it. It meant Taylor perhaps wasn’t so mad at him if he could do that sexy movement with his mouth.

“And I always thought Eddie liked arseholes,” Taylor murmured slyly. “Just goes to show you that people can still surprise you.”

Draven leaned forward across the table, ignoring that quip. “I tried to tell you I was sorry for what I said,” he growled. “But every text or phone call went unanswered, and you damn well ignored me.”

Taylor shrugged, and Draven’s eyes were drawn to the way Taylor’s body made that simple gesture look like full-blown seduction. The man had an unconscious beauty that made Draven want to rip the red shirt off his beautiful shoulders and fuck him across the table. His dick still hadn’t quiet subsided from his earlier sighting and that thought brought it alive again like the beast of Frankenstein, electricity surging through flesh and blood rising into places he’d forgotten he had. It had been too long since he’d gotten laid.