New York City, Four Months Ago

 

 

Matt shivered as the cold ran through him with a bite right down to his bones. There was a breeze that made its way under the lobby door causing the draft as he waited. John talked to Agent Haskins a short distance away, their voices low so he couldn’t hear what was being said. He didn’t mind that so much, just like he didn’t mind John pretty much arranging everything from their food to God knew how on earth he’d gotten lube. The snow had stopped a couple of hours ago and they were ready to move to the real safe house where they’d be staying for the duration of the trial.

It had been a week since the shooting in the café and he’d spent more time with lawyers in that week than he had in the aftermath of the Fire Sale. Of course, back then they’d been arrayed against him, so it wasn’t quite the same quality time as it currently was.

“Matty, get away from the door,” John ordered, suddenly beside him. “Try not to make it easier for the bad guys, huh?”

Matt grinned faintly and said, “Sorry. Just thinking.”

John put an arm around his waist and brought him over to Haskins, scolding, “Told you not to do that, remember?”

Even as he elbowed his lover, Matt couldn’t help chuckling a little. “So where’re the cars? I thought we were heading out like twenty minutes ago.”

Haskins nodded and answered, “Plans changed. There was a computer snafu and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Matt leaned against John and asked, “You think someone hacked in?”

“No. Just not taking chances,” Haskins replied.

Chloe walked in just then and said, “We’re good to go. It really was just a virus. Cars are pulling up now.”

The standard black SUVs pulled up to the curb and Matt walked out with Haskins and Chloe in front, John right beside him, and a couple of other agents behind. It was a forty minute drive out of Manhattan and into Jersey before they stopped at a one-story house in a suburban neighborhood. It was a quiet neighborhood, or so it seemed, but he didn’t see much of it since he was hustled quickly inside.

Haskins pointed down the main hall and said, “Bedroom and bathroom are down there, kitchen through there, living room. You guys’ll be here until after the trial. Either Chloe or myself will pick you up for meetings with the AG’s office and the trial itself. Don’t go anywhere with anyone else.”

Matt saluted. “No, sir!”

John rolled his eyes and agreed, “We’ve got it. I’ll make sure he stays put, don’t worry.”

Haskins smiled a bit as he said, “I’m sure you will. Agents Wilson and Frankle will be at this house 24/7 in shifts to make sure the place is secure. There’s an alarm system, of course, and you’ve got your weapon.”

Nodding, John said, “I do. And it stays with me, even in court.”

It was a familiar utterance and Matt just shook his head in a kind of resigned amusement and wandered down the hall to check out the bedroom. On the small side, the room held just the basics. He made a face at the thought of sharing such a small bed with John. The man was the most restless sleeper Matt had ever known. He’d been known to literally kick Matt out of bed without even waking up after rough patches at work. The last week hadn’t been all that great, but he’d so far not woken up rudely on the floor in the middle of the night.

When he got back to the living room, John was on the sofa watching the news. Matt sighed and said, “How many times do I need to tell you about how much of a puppet the mainstream news media is?”

“Stow it,” John ordered. “That’s for you.”

Matt followed his gesture and spotted a box on the coffee table. Frowning, he walked over and opened the box to find his laptop inside. Not any laptop, but his laptop, complete with stickers and scratches. He let out a whoop of joy and pulled it out, sitting on the floor and powering it up, fingers tapping impatiently. He connected to the wireless network and began bringing up his files to make sure there was nothing wrong with them.

Some time later, John nudged him with a foot and reminded, “No chatting with old friends. If you contact Freddie, I blister your ass tonight.”

Making a face at him, Matt said, “I am not going to contact Freddie. I’m checking my baby over to make sure she didn’t get hurt by the philistines who had her.”

John snorted and went back to watching television.

*  *  *  *

Watching Matt go through deposition after deposition was like a subtle form of torture. The younger man was subdued and about a tenth of his usual personality by the end of the day. It generally took a couple of hours for him to bounce back whenever he had to go through a recounting of the actual shooting. All John could do was be there for him and keep him on track as best he could.

It was about three weeks into the trial that things came to a head. There was still another two weeks before Matt’s testimony was due, what with all the defense motions in place, and the waiting was taking a real toll on everyone, but especially Matt. The young man was jittery after spending several hours going over his testimony with a couple of the junior lawyers on the case. John took one look at him and knew that he’d had way too much caffeine and not enough to eat.

He stayed quiet on the drive back to the safe house, thinking of how to get into their routine without alerting their babysitters. As they pulled into the driveway, John gripped the back of Matt’s neck and squeezed tight enough to elicit a gasp and flash of big eyes. He pulled Matt in close and murmured into his ear, “Go right into the bathroom and get clean for me. Totally clean, Matty, you understand?”

Matt swallowed visibly and nodded, gaze flickering to the floor.

“Good. And not a peep out of you until tomorrow, unless it’s to answer me, or beg,” John finished.

Matt shivered under his grip and bit his lip before climbing out of the car and jogging into the house.

John half-grinned and followed more slowly.

“Man, I don’t know what you said to him, but thanks,” Wilson sighed as they walked. “My ears were starting to bleed from all the chatter. I’m surprised he didn’t pass out from not breathing.”

Chuckling, John told him, “Let’s just say that you’ll want to wear some earplugs later.”

Wilson frowned and then an ‘O’ of comprehension surfaced and he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Sure, ah. No problem. I mean, yeah. We’ll just, you know, keep an eye on the perimeter.”

“Good plan,” John agreed, hiding a grin. It was probably wrong of him to find it so funny, but he took amusement where he could these days.

He went into the kitchen first and made up a couple of plates of leftover chicken, vegetables, and a couple bottles of water. He intended for Matt to eat something substantial before they got into anything. Food, then massage, then a solid spanking and a good old fashioned fucking that would, hopefully, relax Matt so much he couldn’t even form a word, let alone a run-on sentence.

When John brought everything into the bedroom, he found Matt kneeling on the floor by the bed and couldn’t help smiling. His hair was still damp and he was clean-shaven for a change, minus the scruff that never seemed to go away until specifically ordered. Setting the plates on the bed, John said, “I’m going to take a shower. You eat everything on that plate and drink a bottle of the water. Understood?”

Matt nodded and said softly, “Yes, Daddy.”

John stripped and tossed his clothes in the hamper, walking into the bathroom for a hot shower and letting the water relax him. He didn’t linger, but did wash up pretty thoroughly. When he returned to the bedroom, John found one plate empty and Matt still kneeling on the floor. It told him just how much Matt needed this, since he usually had to be ordered to kneel. Sitting on the bed, he ate at a normal pace, letting Matt sink deeper and deeper into the headspace he so clearly needed. He washed it down with half the bottle of water and then ordered, “Lie down on the bed.”

Matt immediately climbed onto the bed, stretching out facedown. John let him lie there a few minutes while he put on a robe, collected the empty plates and bottles and brought them to the kitchen. He nodded at Wilson and said, “We’re turning in now. See you in the morning.”

The agent nodded and replied, “Don’t forget Matt’s got a long day tomorrow.”

Smirking a little, John told him, “Oh don’t worry. Matty’s going to be plenty relaxed for a few days.”

That made the other man flush, which almost made John laugh outright. Taking pity on him, John didn’t say anything else as he left the kitchen and headed back to the bedroom. He took out the lube and massage oil that he’d requested along with their “necessities” when everything had first gone down. He hadn’t been in a gay relationship before, but he couldn’t care less what anyone outside his family thought about his sex life. Matt had been mortified that they’d had to ask someone else to buy the stuff for them, but then, he was barely thirty. John had a lot more experience telling people to go fuck themselves.

John got rid of the robe and poured some oil on his hands as he straddled Matt’s hips. Rubbing into the tense shoulder muscles, John informed him, “Nothing outside this room matters right now. You have no responsibilities or worries except to please me. And why’s that?”

“Because I’m yours,” Matt answered, sounding dreamy.

The tone made John smile as he confirmed, “Because you’re mine. I want you to relax and let go of everything unless I say otherwise.”

The massage went on for a long time. John took his time, working each muscle group into putty before moving onto the next. He wished that he could have ordered Matt to shave his pubic hair, but that would make him too vulnerable come the morning. John didn’t underestimate something as seemingly trivial as pubic hair when it came to self-confidence.

John finally moved where he wanted to go, which was Matt’s ass. He squeezed the firm muscles and pulled them gently apart before licking lightly over the hole. Matt gasped and shivered in response and John licked again before rimming and finally delving into the hole. Matt’s legs spread further in invitation, but John kept it to a light tongue fucking, eating out his lover just to hear the groans and gasps of pleasure.

“Oh God, Daddy, please,” Matt finally begged. “Please fuck me.”

Kneeling back at that, John ordered, “Turn over.”

Matt moved sluggishly onto his back, his dick standing straight up only momentarily before dropping onto his abs. John laid back down between his legs, taking Matt’s shaft into his mouth and rolling his balls in the palm of his hand. Matt’s groan was chest-deep and he thrust into John, hips lifting raggedly. John was relaxed enough himself by that point to take it deep, into his throat. He let his lover fuck him like that for a few minutes and then pulled off, twisting almost brutally at the base of Matt’s dick.

Matt cried out in pained pleasure, panting for air and John just took in the sight of him, flushed and needy. It probably said something about him, the way he couldn’t help but dominate his partners. It was why he and Holly hadn’t worked; they’d both been top dogs and unable to find a way for one to submit to the other. Matt, on the other hand, was exactly what he needed.

John rearranged them so Matt lay over his lap, ass-up. He could just fuck Matt then and there, but it wouldn’t be as long-lasting. Matt did better when he could feel John’s marks on him for a couple of days; stayed calmer, longer. That was why John started out the spanking slow and easy, building up the force and speed over several minutes.

Not until Matt squirmed and begged and John really needed to hold him down did he stop. His own hand was hot from the continuous beating and he knew that he’d feel it himself for a while yet. Manhandling Matt onto his back, John grabbed the lube and poured some onto his fingers, pushing two into his lover’s hole and stretching ruthlessly. His own body was one massive need to come, muscles tight and cock hard as nails.

John took just enough time to stretch Matt and then lubed himself up, pushing inside hard and fast. Matt cried out again, legs locked around John’s waist as his nails dug into John’s back. It wasn’t until he was buried balls-deep that John finally, finally kissed Matty. Leaning on his forearms, John took his lover’s mouth in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, sliding his tongue in to twine with Matt’s. They made out until John couldn’t deny his body any longer and started thrusting.

Pushing onto his hands, John’s shaft thrust in and pulled almost all the way out before repeating the movement over and over. He kept up the kissing as best he could, but they were both open-mouthed with need and pleasure by then and he missed more often than not. When he was close, he broke off the kissing to command harshly, “Come for me, baby, come on Daddy’s cock.”

Matt arched up, one hand twisting up above his head to grab the headboard as he came silently, mouth open and eyes clenched shut, splattering them both. The clamping down of his body on John’s dick pulled out his own orgasm and he ground down hard into his lover, humping into him as he came with a long, low groan, clinging to Matt.

Breathing hard, John collapsed onto Matt and felt his lover’s arms wrap around his shoulders. Still panting himself, Matt managed to say, “Love you, Daddy, love you so fucking much.”

John smiled and lifted up enough to kiss him again. “Love you too, baby.”

Seeing the contented, blessed-out expression on the younger man’s face, John rolled them so that Matt lay on top of him. He tugged the blankets up over them and yawned hugely, more than ready to get some shut-eye.

Tomorrow would bring plenty of trouble soon enough.

 

Albuquerque, NM, Today

 

Marshall was at lunch with Mary when the call came in. As soon as her shoulders tensed and her eyes squinted, he knew something was wrong with a witness.

“Yeah. Uh huh. Got it. Saint’s Memorial. I’ll be there in ten,” she said, standing up.

Marshall stood with her and asked, “Who is it?”

“Farrell,” she answered shortly. “Supposedly some kind of accident.”

Marshall’s gut tightened as soon as she said Matt’s name. He’d managed not to even hear of him and McClane in the last month since their arrival in Albuquerque, which was quite a feat considering he and Mary were about joined at the hips. She seemed to know about his ambivalence regarding the couple and kept the communications out of his earshot. He’d occasionally found himself driving towards their home before realizing what he was doing and turning around. Even knowing himself as well as he did, Marshall tried not to analyze that part of his psyche. “Where’s McClane?”

She looked a little worried when she answered, “Not picking up his cell for some reason. Admitting said they left him a voicemail as Farrell’s next of kin. I was next on the list.”

They were in Mary’s car not a minute later and at the hospital in ten, as promised. Marshall had to pry his hand from the ‘oh shit’ handle, she broke so many driving and speeding laws, but they made it in one piece. As they walked in, he commented blandly, “I can drive, you know.”

Mary flashed him a grin and replied, “Oh, but I like that shade of green on you.”

“Sadist,” he muttered.

They reached the admitting desk and she said to the woman behind it, “Mary Shannon for Matt Kingston. He was brought to your ER about a half-hour ago.”

The woman frowned at her, but typed on her keyboard and announced about a minute later, “He’s in surgery. You can fill out these forms and wait.”

“What kind of surgery?” Marshall demanded. “What happened?”

Looking her nose down at him, the woman said, “And who are you?”

Mary apparently lost patience at that point, about three minutes longer than her short fuse usually took, because she pulled out her badge and snapped, “A concerned citizen. Find a doctor to explain what happened and what Kingston’s in surgery for. Now.”

The woman picked up her phone, but it was a good ten minutes before a doctor came out to talk to them. He was a black man in his forties with pale eyes and frowned at them as he greeted, “Detectives? I’m Dr. Simpson, head of the ER. What can I do for you?”

Mary didn’t correct his assumption as she replied, “We’re here to find out what happened to Matt Kingston and what treatment he’s receiving.”

“Mr. Kingston came into the ER via ambulance from the scene of a pedestrian accident. I assume he was the pedestrian, given the extent of his injuries, but I’m sure your office has the particulars,” Dr. Simpson explained. “As for the surgery, he’s got internal bleeding that they’re repairing now, a fractured femur, and a head injury that we’re keeping a very close eye on. I expect him to be in surgery for some time to come.”

Marshall felt like throwing up at the calm list of injuries the doctor recited. Instead, he fanned the anger that someone had mowed Matt down like a bowling pin and pulled out his cell phone to get in touch with Dershowitz. That would normally be Mary’s job, but he needed to do something more than dealing with medical staff. He’d had plenty of that when Mary had been shot and did not care to repeat the experience in the least.

“Dershowitz,” the detective answered. “What’s up, Marshall?”

“I need the details on a traffic accident that took place approximately an hour ago. A pedestrian was struck and brought to Saint’s Memorial.”

“And you need it because…?”

Marshall snapped, “Because it’s important!”

There was a pause before Dershowitz said, quietly, “No problem. I’ll find out what happened and bring it down. You’re at the hospital?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marshall replied, “Yes. And sorry. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle like that.”

Dershowitz snorted and pointed out dryly, “I deal with Mary all the time.”

That elicited half a smile and Marshall said, “Good point.”

Disconnecting, he called McClane and got the man’s voicemail. “It’s Marshall Mann. Matt’s in the hospital, Saint’s Memorial, and needs you here asap.”

“Dershowitz on his way?” Mary asked.

Marshall nodded. “He’ll find out what happened and bring it all down. No luck getting McClane.”

She looked even more worried as she said, “I heard. And you know nothing would keep him from Farrell in an emergency. We have to assume they’ve been compromised and find him.”

Which was what Marshall had been thinking. As much as their relationship irked him for reasons he deliberately didn’t think about, he knew the older man loved Matt and would do everything and anything for him. Point of fact, had done three times already.

“All right. You stay here,” Mary ordered. “I’ll go find McClane.”

Marshall didn’t bother protesting. As much as the waiting sucked, he wanted to be here when Matt got out of surgery. So long as he didn’t need to deal with the medical staff running interference with him, he’d be fine.

“I told Simpson that you’d be going back with him to the surgery suite. I’ll call you from the road when I find something,” she finished.

Marshall nodded and walked over to where Simpson waited, following the doctor down the hall to the OR. Once there, Simpson told him, “I’ll check where they are and be right back.”

It was only a couple of minutes before the man came back to say that they’d successfully stopped the bleeding and were working on the leg. The head injury hadn’t gotten any worse, but they were still monitoring it.

Marshall let out a long, slow sigh of relief and said, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Any time, Detective. I told the doctor to keep you apprised,” the doctor said before leaving.

Marshall took the opportunity to use the nurses’ phone to call the office and let Stan know what was going on, since it wasn’t likely that Mary had.

Eleanor picked up the line. “Director McQueen’s office, may I help you?”

“It’s me, Eleanor,” Marshall replied. “We have a situation.”

There was a pause before she said, “Just a moment, Marshall, he’s on the phone with a New York FBI Agent.”

That can’t be good, he thought. Matt and McClane were from New York and the timing of the agent’s call being a coincidence was slim to none.

Stan’s voice came on a few minutes later with, “What’s going on, Marshall?”

Marshall explained what had happened and finished by demanding, “Was that call about them?”

Stan answered slowly, “It was supposedly just a check-up call from Agent Zell. She didn’t indicate there was anything going on, but the timing’s suspicious.”

“Just a little,” Marshall agreed.

Stan sighed explosively and ordered, “All right, keep me in the loop.”

Marshall nodded automatically. “I will.”

He saw the OR doors swing open and an unconscious Matt was wheeled down the hall by a couple of women. Marshall strode over towards them and a red-headed woman broke off to ask, “Are you the detective?”

Marshall evaded, “How is Mr. Kingston?”

“He’s going to be fine,” she assured him. “We had to remove his appendix, but that went fine, and the leg is in a cast now.”

“And the head injury?”

“We’ll know more when he wakes up, but so far there’s been no sign of bleeds in the brain.”

She seemed to hesitate then and Marshall prompted, “What? What else?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the car accident, but…it looks like someone beat Mr. Kingston recently.”

Marshall drew back, shocked, and then schooled his features into neutrality. “What kind of beating?”

The doctor looked uncomfortable, but answered, “There are restraint marks on his wrists and ankles, as well as faded lines on his back that could have been caused by either a whip or crop or even some kind of chain, it’s difficult for me to tell.”

Forcing down the rage at the thought that someone had hurt Matt like that, Marshall questioned, “Can you tell how recently it was done?”

“The bruising has faded, but I would say within the last week or so, maybe ten days.”

Marshall frowned at that, wondering if someone could have taken Matt that long ago without McClane going ballistic and leveling the city to find him. But then, maybe McClane had disappeared because he’d gone looking for his lover. On the other hand, there’d been no sign of trouble. As far as he knew, Mary checked in with them every week, being on their ‘active’ list and she hadn’t reported any trouble the week before.

Unless McClane did it, he suddenly thought.

It made perfect sense. That niggling sensation he’d had from the start that something was wrong between McClane and Matt. How dominating the older man had seemed with Matt that morning he’d met them. It had been subtle, but there. It was entirely probably that Matt was in an abusive relationship and being in witness protection had exacerbated the situation.

“Detective?”

Dragging his thoughts back to his surroundings, Marshall gave her a thin smile and said, “I’m going to be with Mr. Kingston until we determine just what’s going on. Where is he now?”

“In recovery. He’ll be transferred to a room in a few minutes.”

“Good. Bring me to him.”

She didn’t argue, leading him to a room down the hall and letting him in, but staying in the hall. Marshall winced at the large cast that covered Matt’s entire leg from ankle to mid-thigh. There was a bandage over his head, too, but blankets covered whatever bandages protected his midriff.

Standing by the bed, Marshall gently put his hand on Matt’s and promised, “He’s never going to hurt you again, Matt. I don’t care what I have to do, you’re safe now.”

Matt’s breath hitched, as if in response to his words, and his hand tightened briefly on Marshall’s before going slack again. Marshall sat in the chair beside the bed, taking up a vigil that wouldn’t end until McClane had paid for what he’d done to Matt.

Preferably by a similar beating inflicted by Marshall.

*  *  *  *

Despite what Marshall thought, or at least what he verbalized, Mary really was an open-minded kind of person. She had gay friends, transgender friends, black friends, and was engaged to a Hispanic man. She’d seen all kinds of relationships in her life and as long as there was mutual respect, she had no problem with any of them. Marshall’s problem was that he was essentially an old-fashioned romantic; he thought one-to-one was the only ratio that signified real love. It was the reason he was so freaked out by his fascination with the McClane-Farrell relationship.

Mary had visited the men twice in the last month to check up on them outside of her weekly phone calls and it didn’t take a genius to see that they were in a D/s relationship. Aside from the way Matt deferred to John in pretty much every way that mattered, there was the overprotective yet not smothering way that John looked out for his younger lover. It also didn’t take a genius to see that Marshall wanted Matt and was all set to be the hacker’s White Knight.

Because he’s a pain in my ass that way, she thought for about the hundredth time. Mary had been waiting for some kind of explosion between John and Marshall since they’d met and poor Matt would be right at the center of it when it did happen.

Dershowitz was on his way into the hospital when she was leaving, so she ordered, “Walk and talk, Dershowitz, I’ve gotta find someone.”

Dershowitz rolled his eyes and said, “Right. Matt Kingston was the victim of a hit and run at approximately 1:25pm today. Witnesses claim the vehicle was a dark sedan, but no one remembered the make or model. An off-duty EMT was in the area and gave Kingston treatment at the site until the ambulance arrived.”

They arrived at Mary’s Mustang and she pulled up John’s picture on her Blackberry before showing it to him. “I need to find this man, John Kingston.”

Dershowitz’s eyebrows lifted and he observed, “I’m guessing it’s not Matt Kingston’s dad.”

She snorted. “No. They’re from Massachusetts.”

“And I’ll guess that neither of them has much of a history,” Dershowitz observed.

Mary shrugged. “I could confirm that, but then I’d have to kill you. Anyone see someone like this at the scene?”

Dershowitz shook his head. “No reports of him, anyhow, but we weren’t flashing his pic around, either.”

“Any license plate?”

“Three letters, but it wasn’t a NM plate and the witness couldn’t remember which state it was.”

Mary scowled. “Perfect.”

Dershowitz asked her, “Need a hand?”

“If I don’t find him in a couple hours, I may take you up on it,” she replied, smiling faintly. “Thanks though.”

He nodded and said, “You know where I am. Good luck.”

Mary opened her car door as she said, “Thanks,” and then climbed inside. First would be their house to see if, somehow, John was there and just not picking up for some bizarre reason. She dialed the work number she had for him and waited for someone to pick up.

A woman answered, “John Kingston’s desk.”

“Yeah, hi, I’m looking for John Kingston. This is Mary down at Saint’s Memorial,” she lied. “I’ve got a Matt Kingston in our recovery room from a hit and run accident.”

“Oh no!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m afraid John isn’t in today! Did you try his cell or home number?”

Mary rolled her eyes as she drove down the street and replied, “Yes, ma’am. Do you know where he might be? It’s important that I get in touch with him.”

“He had an early morning run-through at the east park, but after that he was taking the day off for his anniversary. I wish I could be more help.”

“If you could leave a message in case he checks in?”

“Of course!”

Mary hung up and then dialed the home number. It rang until the answering machine picked up and she hissed in annoyance and then said, “John, it’s Mary. Matt’s at Saint’s Memorial. I’m on my way to the house now.”

It took only ten minutes to get there and she parked in the empty driveway. They only had one car and since Matt had been walking at the time of the accident, John had to have it. Still, it was worth taking a look to make sure he wasn’t in the house and in trouble of some kind. She walked up the front path to the one-story house they were renting. John had taken a job as a local parks ranger, which kept him active and let him bag the occasional troublemaker. Matt worked from home as an IT consultant and made more money than Mary did. Why they were renting, she had no idea; they could certainly afford to buy.

Peering inside the front window showed no movement, so she let herself in and quickly disarmed the security system. She didn’t generally memorize those tidbits of her witnesses, but then, Matt and John weren’t like their usual witnesses. Matt would be heading back to New York the following month to testify again, so she needed to keep an extra close eye on them, just in case. John had seemed to welcome the assistance when she offered.

Mary grinned a little and thought, With Matt’s background, not a big surprise.

She called out, “John? Hello? It’s Mary.”

Silence echoed back, but she checked it anyhow. The house was empty, so she left and headed for the park to check there for him.

*  *  *  *

John winced as he lowered his injured foot to the floor. All this fuss for a sprained ankle made him want to hit someone. He understood that the store didn’t want to get sued, but he had better things to do with his afternoon than hang around an infirmary. He couldn’t even call Matt with his cell phone busted to hell and back.

Matt’s going to laugh his ass off when I tell him about this, he thought ruefully.

“Here you go, Mr. Kingston,” the nurse said, bringing over a portable phone. “Just dial nine to get out.”

John nodded and called Matt’s cell first since the kid had been planning to do some errands. John’s plans for a romantic anniversary dinner were officially blown, but at least they could hang out and get food at a nice restaurant.

“It’s Matt. Leave a message.”

John shook his head and said, “Kid, you are not going to believe what happened to me. I’ll fill you in at home.”

Mr. Francis, the store manager, walked over and said, “I have a cab waiting out front for you, Mr. Kingston.”

“I can drive,” John stated.

The older man looked unhappy at the pronouncement, but could only nod.  “I have your gift here.”

John took the small bag and maneuvered himself onto the crutches. The mall was mostly empty, so at least he didn’t have to worry about someone knocking him over. If they weren’t in witness protection, John would be seriously tempted to sue for the lack of a ‘wet floor’ sign. He was just about at the main entrance when he spotted Mary striding his way. Surprised, he waved at her and called out, “Hey Mary! Over here.”

She altered course to join him and demanded, “What happened to you?”

“Freak accident,” he answered, disgusted. “Some jackass removed the ‘wet floor’ sign and I fell on my ass.”

She seemed to relax slightly at that and said, “Matt was in an accident. He’s at the hospital.”

John’s stomach clenched and he demanded, “How is he? What happened?”

They started walking outside and Mary explained, “As far as we can tell, it was just a normal hit and run, nothing to worry about. Well, other than the obvious. Marshall called me with an update  little while ago and Matt came out of surgery with flying colors. He’s going to be fine.”

John waited impatiently for Mary to unlock her car and then climbed in, angling the crutches so he could shut the door. Once she was in, he asked, “What kind of injuries?”

“Broken leg, his appendix had to come out, and a concussion,” she answered, starting the car. “He hadn’t come around when Marshall called, but there’s no reason to think anything’s wrong yet.”

It was the ‘yet’ that made John worry. In his own way, Matt expected perfection of himself; if there was any loss of brainpower or function, the younger man would be beside himself. Thankfully, it was a pretty short ride to the hospital; they were there and inside within twenty minutes. They wasted a few minutes at admissions trying to get the room number and then were on their way again.

The sight of Matt motionless in the hospital bed shocked John in a way he didn’t expect, going right to the center of him. He took in the large cast and bandage around Matt’s head with a strange sense of disorientation; not even Gabriel had done this kind of damage to the kid.

“Get out.”

The low, angry command from Mann took John by surprise. He frowned at the man and asked, “What’s your problem?”  Ignoring the agent, he moved a few steps closer to his lover only to be blocked physically when Mann moved in front of him.

“Get out or I’ll throw you out,” Mann warned.

Mary quickly interceded, grabbing Mann by the arm and saying, “He’s got a right to be here, Marshall. Back off.”

He shook her off and snarled, “He’s got no right to be here when he abuses Matt so badly there are restrain marks on him over a week later! As soon as Matt wakes up, I’m having him swear out a warrant on you”

John kept his temper, but barely. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with a judgmental shmuck, but Mann literally stood between him and Matt. Taking a breath, John told him, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but Matt happens to like being bound. He also likes getting spanked, whipped, tied up so he can’t move, and calling me Daddy. You got a fuckin’ problem with any of that, you can kiss my ass and fuck off where you don’t have to be near us. Now move before I God damn move you.”

There was a long, tense moment where no one moved, but then Mann gave way. After he stalked from the room, Mary shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, John. He means well.”

“Which is why he’s still got his teeth,” John told her.

He dismissed her from thought as he hobbled to the bed and sat on its edge. Taking Matt’s hand, he let out a slow breath and said, “Boy are we a pair, Matty. Can you believe that I fell at the damn mall and sprained my ankle? I remembered out anniversary, though, and that’s huge. Just ask Holly. Better yet, don’t. She might still scare you off.”

John paused when the door opened and a red-headed woman entered the room. She gave him a thin smile and he immediately knew that she was the one to tell Mann about the bruises.

“Mr. Kingston? I’m Dr. Florence,” she greeted. “I’m Matt’s doctor while he’s here with us.”

John stood and offered his hand. She was a little slow in taking it, but the grip was firm when she did. “So what’s the verdict?”

“We’ll know more when he wakes up, but so far everything looks good. The nurses will be checking in every twenty minutes until he’s awake and I’ll stop by once an hour.”

John nodded and got out of her way, watching as she checked Matt over. She didn’t linger and John resumed his spot just in time for Matt to groan and squint against the light. John immediately called out, “Dr. Florence! He’s awake!”

“Christ, John, not so loud,” Matt moaned.

Wincing, John said, “Sorry, Matty.”

Dr. Florence apparently heard him and came back into the room with a real smile for Matt. “Good afternoon, Matt. I’m Dr. Florence.”

“I could tell from John’s bellow,” Matt replied, rubbing at his eyes. “What hit me?”

Dry, John answered, “A car, can’t you tell?”

Matt’s frown deepened and then he said, “Oh, yeah. Big black sedan of some kind.”

“Did you see the driver?” John questioned.

Matt gave him and incredulous look. “Are you insane? I’m lucky I heard them coming and jumped out of the way.”

John’s eyebrows shot up and he observed, “This is you jumping out of the way? We need to work on your reflexes, kid.”

Dr. Florence interrupted with, “I can see your head’s all right, but we’ll have the nurses check on you every hour through the night just in case.”

“Oh, man. No sleep tonight,” Matt muttered.

John put a hand on Matt’s shoulder and told him, “I’d rather you alive and grumpy, than dead.”

Matt quirked a grin up at him. “Well when you put it that way.”

He squeezed Matt’s shoulder lightly and asked the doctor, “So what’s his recovery time look like?”

“At least a week, depending on his resilience,” she answered. “It’s a good sign that he’s so coherent and lively. I need to continue on my rounds now, so have a good evening, gentlemen.”

As soon as she left, Matt teased, “So what did you do to piss her off? Blow something up?”

Exasperated, John retorted, “I abuse you, according to the bruising on you arms and legs.”

It was worth it to see Matt blush scarlet and pull a pillow over his head, mumbling, “I forgot about those.”

John grinned and gently took away the pillow. “Faster you heal, faster you go home,”

“You know what would make me feel a whole lot better?”

John frowned suspiciously at the innocent tone, but prompted, “What’s that?”

“A kiss,” Matt told him, smiling.

There was no way John would deny either the request or that shy smile. He leaned in and pressed their lips together, smiling a little himself.

*  *  *  *

Mary watched as Marshall stood very still a short way down the hall. It wasn’t time to approach just yet, not from the set of his tense shoulders. She shook her head and thought, What a mess. He finally falls in love and not only is the lucky recipient involved, he’s kinky to boot.

When Marshall let out a long, slow sigh and rolled his shoulders and neck, Mary walked over to him and asked, “You okay?”

“You knew,” he all but accused.

Mary shrugged. “It’s pretty easy to see, if you know how to look.”

Marshall gaped at her. “So you and Raf…?”

Snorting, Mary retorted, “Right, because my trust issues lend themselves real well to getting tied up and beaten.”

Marshall scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up like a demented porcupine. “What do I do here, Mary?”

Mary bit back her automatic, snide remark and instead answered, “Nothing you can do. It’s just not you, Marshall. C’mon. I’ll buy the beer tonight.”

Even though he nodded and fell into step with her, Mary had the sinking feeling that this was all very far from over.