Stripped Bare (32 page)

“Oh no, I want you, pretty boy. You made my life a misery with those disgusting pictures you put on my phone. I know it was you. No one else could have done that. That and your complete lack of respect for me and my boss. This is payback time. I’ve been planning this a while. I even paid the bouncers to look the other way while I took care of business. They’re old friends, so they won’t say anything.”

Shane righted himself and finally was able to face his attacker. He didn’t feel particularly strong, the drink and the three gut punches making him less than sharp, but he was damned if he was going to let this man beat him anymore. He intended to square up to Roy, and he clenched his fists at his side, ready to take a swing. He’d go down fighting if he had to.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the sudden swing of a baseball bat that connected violently with the left side of head, causing him to jerk to the side, driving him to the ground. He heard a crack in his ears, felt his cheek smack the pavement as his head exploded. His vision blurred. The pain in his temple was agonising.

He vomited up everything he’d eaten and drunk as lay on the cold grey pavement. His left hand had twisted awkwardly beneath him and he’d felt something snap when he went down.

Pain resonated through his body as Roy kicked him in the stomach violently. “I found out your queer boyfriend gave you the boot, so that makes you fair game for me now. Mr. Debussy warned me to stay away from you and your boyfriend because he was scared that bloody video would get out. But now you’re no longer fucking him that doesn’t apply in my book. Besides, I don’t intend you telling anybody about this. So no one will know it was me anyway. You’ll be dead, little cocksucker.”

Shane felt sheer helplessness at the man’s words. His head was ringing and his vision was starting to go black. He thought of Matthew and felt a sense of despair that he hadn’t had a chance to make things right with him yet. This wasn’t how it was all supposed to have ended.

Roy swung the bat again, connecting with Shane’s right arm, sending a jolt of agony up into his being as the bone snapped. He struggled to get to his feet but the pain in both his head and arm was too great, and he couldn’t use his arm to prop himself up. He couldn’t even focus. His eyes were filmed in red.

Roy sneered. “I’ve been following you, waiting for my chance. This is going to be such fun, putting you down. No one’s going to worry about a little queer boy being found with his head bashed in. I’m probably doing the world a service.” He chuckled. “And by the way, just so you know before you check out, I watched your boyfriend’s father die. Rather painfully I might add. Stupid bugger had a heart attack right in front of me when I went around giving him a piece of my mind. Say hello to him when you see him.”

Shane felt his consciousness fading, and he thought gratefully of Matty. He saw his face, the warm smile and the curve of his cheek, heard the lilt of his voice. He wanted to go out with memories that made him happy rather than those that took him into dark places. The bat hit him again in the ribs and he heard a distinct crack as they broke too. He wondered hazily how many more bones Roy was going to be able to smash before Shane actually passed out. His head flew back once again as Roy kicked him hard in the jaw. His consciousness faded. As the bat was raised once again, he fell into the pit with the thought of Matthew in his memory. He murmured his lover’s name as the blackness claimed him.

Inside the club, Timmy frantically searched for his friend. He’d been gone far too long. Shane wasn’t in the bathroom, and Timmy thought the only other place he could look was outside. He hoped Shane hadn’t decided to go home with anyone. Shane would never forgive himself in the morning if that was the case.

The big man fought his way through the gyrating and sweating bodies, over the dance floor, out to the exit. He burst out the door, wondering where the bouncers were. He immediately saw the scene taking place outside. He recognised Shane’s clothing and his blue silky shirt. His friend was on the ground as a large man in a balaclava lifted a baseball bat ready to bring down onto the supine figure on the pavement.

With all the agility of his body and the strength of his anger in seeing his friend being beaten, Timmy launched himself at the man with a loud cry. He grasped the bat and wrenched it out of the attacker’s hands.

The man turned to face the six-foot-two warrior, his eyes widening at seeing the terrifying fury etched across Timmy’s features. Timmy punched him hard in the jaw once, then again and kicked him backward with one strong, muscled leg as the second blow fell. Shane’s attacker fell to the ground with the angry Zulu atop him, straddling him across his waist, his hands pushing the man’s shoulders back against the ground.

“You bastard,” he snarled at the dazed man. “What the hell have you done to my friend?”

By now people were milling around, having come outside to see what all the fracas was about. Timmy gazed in panic at the still form of Shane as he lay there, blood congealing around his head, his body twisted awkwardly and a face as white as a sheet of clean, pressed paper.

“Call 999,” he yelled. “Get an ambulance. Don’t just stand there, you stupid bastards, call them now!” He saw someone pull out a mobile and dial a number.

The attacker was still lying beneath him and Timmy looked down at him with a murderous expression.

“You had better hope he isn’t too badly hurt,” he snarled. “Or I will come after you myself.” His eyes were riveted back to Shane’s still and broken body and he felt a sense of despair assail his being that he had been too late.

Matthew and David were just finishing their coffees in the restaurant when Matthew’s phone rang. He glanced at the number. He didn’t know it. Matthew tended to ignore unknown numbers, preferring people to leave a message. It might be Shane trying to make contact and an unknown number could simply mean he’d changed phones.

Christ, he’d become such a needy bastard.

He answered it. “Matthew Langer.”

“Matthew, this is Timmy. You remember me? I am Shane’s friend. We met at his apartment.”

Matthew did remember the tall black man, one of Shane’s ex-lovers. “Yes, Timmy. I remember you. What can I do for you?”

“Shane has been hurt. He’s at Chelsea and West. You need to get here quickly.”

Matthew’s body went cold. He saw David looking at him curiously. “How badly is he hurt? What the hell happened?”

There was a short silence. “It isn’t good. He’s pretty bad. You need to come now. I’ll meet you at the A and E waiting room.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Matthew whispered. He put his phone on the table with trembling hands and passed a hand over his face.

“Matty, what’s wrong?” David regarded him in concern.

Matthew shook his head blindly as he stood up. “Shane’s in the hospital. That was his friend Timmy. Something’s happened and it sounds really bad, DD.” His voice cracked as he picked up his bomber jacket and shrugged his shoulders into it. “I need to go. Can you settle up the bill and meet me at Chelsea and West A and E when you’re done?”

David motioned him away. “Go, Matty. I’ll sort this out. Go to Shane. I’ll follow.”

Matthew nodded through the tears welling in his eyes and darted out of the restaurant. It was nearly midnight. He gave a shuddering sigh of relief as he saw a taxi right outside and clambered into it.

“Chelsea and West A and E, please. Make it fast. I have a friend in trouble.”

The taxi driver nodded. “I’ll get you there as soon as I can, mate, don’t worry.” He pulled away into the traffic.

Matthew sat back, his heart racing.
I haven’t even spoken to Shane, responded to him. What if something happens? Oh God, what if he dies and I never get to tell him again that I love him?

He thrust his trembling hands between his knees and gazed blindly out into the traffic as it whizzed past. To his credit, the taxi driver drove fast, weaving in and out of the London streets with expertise. Matthew felt hot tears of dread trickling down his face. He made no attempt to wipe them away, thinking he deserved them for being so stubborn. He saw the taxi driver gaze at him sympathetically in the rearview mirror a few times.

Finally Matthew saw the huge bulk of the hospital in front, and the driver drove him as close to the entrance as he could get. Matthew opened the door and reached for his wallet.

The taxi driver waved him on. “Get in there, mate. You look gutted. Don’t worry about the fare. Go see your friend.”

Matthew felt like hugging him for his small act of kindness but all he could do was nod numbly. “Thank you,” he said huskily and then he was sprinting across the concourse to the A and E entrance. Timmy wasn’t hard to spot. He was the only six-foot-two-inch statuesque black man pacing anxiously up and down the waiting room.

He saw Matthew come running in and moved to meet him. “Matthew, you made it. Good.”

“Where’s Shane? How is he? Can I see him?” Matthew panted, out of breath. He wasn’t as fit as Shane.

Timmy’s face clouded and Matthew felt his heart stop.

“Timmy, what’s wrong? God, please don’t tell me,” His voice tailed off as he almost lost it and swayed on his feet.

Timmy caught him with two strong hands and led him to a seat. He pushed him down into it and sat down next to him. “Shane is in surgery. He is alive, Matthew. He was very badly beaten but they are doing everything they can.”

“Beaten by whom? Who would do that?” Matthew was dazed.

Timmy looked at him in sympathy. “By a man called Roy Parsons. I came out of the club we were at and found him beating Shane. I managed to stop him and the police came. They have taken him away.”

“Roy beat Shane?” Matthew felt cold. “Christ, I knew that man was bad news. How bad is it, Timmy?”

He saw the other man hesitate. Matthew panicked. “Jesus Christ, Timmy, please tell me how bad it is.” His voice rose.

Timmy laid a placatory hand on his arm. “I heard the paramedics in the ambulance when we came in. He has internal injuries, some broken ribs and a broken right arm as well as a broken thumb on his other hand. He also sustained a bad head injury. Roy hit him with a baseball bat. He has a fractured skull and he is bleeding inside the brain. They are trying to stop it.” The look on his face spoke volumes about the seriousness of Shane’s injuries.

Matthew felt his whole world collapse. He shivered, his body suddenly wracked with pain. He couldn’t help shedding more hot, salty tears. They fell down his cheeks. “Oh God, Shay,” he sobbed. “I should have been there. I should have been there with you.”

Timmy reached out and drew the devastated Matthew into his arms, holding him as he cried. “We can only wait and see, Matthew. Shane is strong and tough. He will fight.”

David arrived in a panic about a half hour later. He sat down next to Matthew, his arm lightly around his friend’s shoulders in support as they waited for news.

Timmy paced up and down the corridor, looking like a Nubian warrior on patrol in his kingdom.

Matthew looked up at Timmy. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Matthew’s voice was quiet, but he needed to take his mind off things. “I want to hear everything.”

Timmy looked at him in sympathy. “We were at the club having a good time. Shane disappeared to pee, I think. He was gone too long, so I thought—” He hesitated. “I thought he might have gone outside with someone, round the corner. It’s where people go to—you know. Get their rocks off. Shane had drunk a lot, and I knew he’d be very ashamed at doing that to himself.”

Matthew’s face whitened. “Go on,” he said softly.

Timmy sighed. “I came outside. The bouncers were not there ,which I thought was strange. I saw a man getting ready to hit someone on the ground. I knew it was Shane being hurt. I recognised his blue shirt. I ran at the man, kicked him and tried to stop him hitting Shane. Then I sat on him until the police arrived.” He grinned showing white teeth. “The little bastard was most put out at that.”

Matthew stood up and walked over to Timmy. He laid his hands both sides of Timmy’s ebony-skinned cheeks, and then Matthew laid his forehead against the other man’s. Timmy placed a comforting hand on his shoulders. “Thank you,” Matthew whispered. “For saving him. I don’t know what I would do if he had died. At least now there seems to be a chance.”

Timmy smiled softly and reached out, enfolding Matthew in a bear hug.

“He is my friend,” he said simply. “My Shanester. I had no choice. And I am glad you are here for him now.”

Matthew nodded and walked back to his chair. He sat there thinking that if he never felt anything again it would be a blessing. It was too hard thinking you might lose someone else dear to him.

He just wanted to lie down, close his eyes and never wake up. He thought numbly that bears had the right idea, crawling into a cave and not waking up until things were better outside.

It was two hours later when he heard a quiet voice say, “I’m looking for the party for Mr. Templar?”

Matthew looked up. A white-coated doctor stood there, looking tired and drawn. Matthew stood up anxiously. “How is he, Doctor?”

The doctor observed him, no doubt seeing the lines of strain and the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Who might you be?” he asked, tiredness of his own straining his voice. “I need to know the nature of your relationship before I can disclose anything to either of you.”

Timmy gestured. “I am his friend, Timothy, this is David and this is Shane’s boyfriend. His name is Matthew Langer.”

The doctor looked relieved. “That’s the name on the card we found in his wallet. He listed you as next of kin, Mr. Langer.” He held out a hand. “Dr. Frederick Shapiro.”

Matthew nodded numbly even though the words “next of kin” sent a sharp pain to his heart. He’d had no idea Shane had done that. “What can you tell me? How is he?”

Dr. Shapiro gave a heavy sigh. “He’s not particularly good. We’ve stopped the bleeding from the head injury. We won’t know too much more until the swelling goes down. He was beaten very badly, but in a way he was lucky. He has a very thick skull. The fracture is not as bad as I would have thought, given the blow he suffered.”