(30) I am what I am

~Blair~

I paced the station, willing the bus to show up. I’d bought a ticket for the first one out of the city, afraid if I didn’t leave immediately I’d change my mind. Once I was gone then I could get another bus to get me where I needed to be.

There was only one way out of the mess I’d made of my life. Only one way I could be with Quinn, if he really wanted me. And after everything that had happened last night, I had to hope that he did. It was the only thing keeping me from running so far and so fast that no one, not even my demon, could find me.

Not a real demon of course though it felt like one.

The person who’s actions had haunted me for the last five years. The reason I lived the way I did. Did the things I did. And ran each time I thought it would all catch up with me again.

But not this time. This time I’m running home.

I have to face my demon so I can have my life back. And, maybe, just maybe, have love.

The bus pulled in, finally. Grabbing my suitcase I climbed the steps, showed the driver my ticket, and found a seat.

And then I prayed to whatever being was out there that this would be the end, and the beginning.

(29) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

The woman, who told me her name was Bonnie, shook her head. “I’m not sure. I had some shopping to do after work and she wasn’t here when I got home.”

“Is she usually?”

“More like we usually come home together since she works for me.” Bonnie looked at me, frowning. “Why do you need to talk to her?”

“It has to do with her doctor.” I figured Bonnie probably knew this Blair was seeing a therapist but I wasn’t about to say so right out, just in case.

“Albert? What about him?”

“I take it you know she was seeing him.”

“Sure, I’m the one who originally set it up. Blair had been having really bad nightmares and since he was a friend of mine I suggested she talk to him.”

“Do you mind if we sit down?” I asked, glancing at the sofa.

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m sorry.” She waited until I had and then sat down at the far end, looking at me worriedly. “Has something happened to Albert?”

“He was murdered Friday night.”

Her hand flew to her mouth as she looked at me in shock. “He was what? You can’t be serious. Who would want to kill him?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Since Miss Ryley was possibly the last one to see him I need to talk to her.”

“You don’t think…” She glared at me. “No way would Blair kill someone. She doesn’t have it in her.”

“I’m not suggesting she did but she might have noticed something, either in how he was acting, or after she left his office.”

“I suppose it’s possible. Do you want me to have her to call you when she gets home?”

“If you don’t mind.” I took out my card and handed it to her.

“Of course not. As a matter of fact I’ll put it in her room where she’s sure to find it, along with a note, just in case I’m asleep.” She got up, found some paper and a pen and scribbled a quick message before stapling the card to it. Then she headed down the hallway, presumably to Miss Ryley’s bedroom.

She was back seconds later, a stricken look on her face. “She’s… All her things, they’re gone.”

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (6)

"You broke the cardinal rule, Domingo," Samuel said sternly.

Dom's wings ruffled in agitation as he replied, "I can't help him by hanging around invisibly then trying to mentally nudge some guy into taking an interest in him—and yes, Samuel, I'd give long odds he's gay. So as I was saying, staying invisible wouldn't have given me a chance to get him away from his apartment. He's a loner, and you know it. I wonder if he's even seen the inside of a bar, to say the least of visiting one?"

"He's twenty-six. Of course he has. Don't all young men go to one as a rite of passage?"

"He's not all young men. He's…he thinks he's worthless, except when it comes to helping the kids who visit the library. His moods change like that." Dom snapped his fingers. "I'm taking him out for a couple of drinks this evening but I'd be willing to bet that after the first one, he's going to want to leave because he feels uncomfortable. Still, it's a first step."

Samuel nodded. "It is. One word of caution though, you are not to get involved with him in any way other than as a friend."

"I'm not stupid! It would destroy him if I did and then vanished." Dom smiled slightly. "At least my cover story will explain why I have to leave, when I do. He thinks that I travel around the country as part of my job, sometimes settling in one place for an extended period of time if necessary."

Samuel actually chuckled. "You told him the truth, although not quite all of it."

"Yeah, well, I can hardly say, 'I'm your guardian angel'. I suspect telling him that would end any chance I have of helping him, because he'd think I was trying to make a fool out of him—something that's undoubtedly happened way too often in his life."

"I'm sure. All right, despite the fact it is against the rules to reveal yourself, I won't chastise you, since your reasoning is sound. However, if it happens again, there will be repercussions. Twice in less than a year is…well…twice too often." Samuel sighed. "You newer batch of angels seem to like pushing the boundaries."

"Hey now, Paddy does too, and he's hardly new," Dom protested.

"Paddy is a law unto himself," Samuel replied with a bit of asperity.

Dom grinned. "That he is. Okay, do you have any words of wisdom for me, or can I go back down and try to figure out how to fix Tim's life for the better?"

"You can, and you may. Just keep me apprised of the situation."

"Of course," Dom said before leaving the office. "I always do."

"Not always," Samuel said, his words echoing in Dom's head as he reappeared in his apartment in the city.

"Well… Usually?" Dom chuckled, when Samuel's reply was a mocking snort.

(28) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

By mid-afternoon we’d managed to get a subpoena that allowed us to obtain the addresses on the list of Doctor Freer’s patients, but nothing more. His files were still off limits until we could prove one of them might hold information we needed for the case.

Freer’s secretary met us at his office. She was less than happy to be there, mainly because she apparently was grieving his death. But she understood why we needed the information and put it together for us, addresses and phone numbers.

“I wish…if I’d been here maybe he’d still be alive,” she said as she handed us the list.

“Were you off sick?” I asked her.

“No. He sent me home early because it was my anniversary. I’ll admit I was a bit surprised but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He still had two patients to see but he said he could handle the little bit of paperwork on them, so I left before he changed his mind.”

I glanced at the list and noted that Blair Ryley’s was the last name on it, preceded by an Arthur Holmes.

By the time we got back to the station house it was close to five. We split up the list with Jack taking the first three and me the last. It seemed logical to do this tonight, since as far as we could tell they were all home addresses. So after we’d signed out we took off in separate directions.

I immediately headed for Ryley’s address and fifteen minutes later found myself in front of a small apartment building. I didn’t find the name on the list of residents but since I had the apartment number that wasn’t really a problem. I buzzed the manager who let me into the building when I showed him my badge. He wanted to know why I was there and I told him police business which effectively shut him up.

When I got to the apartment I rapped on the door. It opened as far at the security chain would allow and a woman peered out at me.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

I identified myself and asked to talk to Blair Ryley. She frowned, asked to check my badge and then let me inside.

“Why do you want to talk to Blair? Not that you can right now, she’s not here.”

I heaved a sigh of relief as I asked, “When will she be back?”

(27) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

“You look like hell,” Jack said when I walked into the squad room the next morning.

“Feel like it,” I muttered as I stopped long enough to pour a cup of the lukewarm rotgut that passed for coffee around here.

“Want to talk about it?”

I shrugged, tossing my jacket over the back of my chair before sitting down. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Which means there’s a lot to talk about but you’re not sure you want to.”

“Yeah, no.” I picked up the nearest file and began thumbing through it. “Hell, when did we get this,” I barked, looking at the list of Doctor Freer’s patients on the day he was murdered.

“It came in this morning. Why?”

“Just…surprised me. I thought we’d need a subpoena to get it.”

“One of the men found the secretary’s desk calendar. It’s just names, nothing more. A start but we need a connection, something that says one of them may have had a hate on for the good doctor. Assuming he wasn’t just assaulted by some random punk.”

“Which you know doesn’t fit with the fact that he’s not the first or last one of the victims to have his cock stuffed up his ass, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know, and so far there’s nothing linking any of the four men.”

I hoped there wasn’t, because the last patient to see Freer was Blair Ryley. Which didn’t mean it was my Blair, but it’s an unusual enough first name that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up with worry.

‘My Blair’. I should have laughed at that thought. He’d vanished and I had no clue where to. But as far as I was concerned he was mine. There had been a connection between us that he couldn’t deny, as much as he seemed to want to.

“We need addresses for all the people on this list.”

“Working on it, Quinn. Oh, the report came in on the two punks, umm murder victims. No trace elements found on them that could specifically point towards their killer, just as we figured.”

“And the others?” I nodded when Jack tapped the forensics files on Freer and Ward and I began skimming them until he dropped a printout on top of them. I read it slowly and smiled. “At least this proves that the same person killed them both, as if we didn’t know that from the MO.” Trace evidence from both bodies has been found that matched; flakes of skin and short strands of hair. “Too bad there wasn’t anything on the punks too.”

“Agreed, but we have a start for when we catch the freak.”

(26) I am what I am

~Blair~

I’m in so much trouble.

This was not supposed to happen. I didn’t want someone in my life. I couldn’t have someone in my life. Not now. Not ever. Not until…

But all my resolves melted when I looked at Quinn. There was such caring in his eyes, in his touch. As if I was important and not…not what I am.

I needed to run before things got any worse, or better, or god knows what.

“Blair, you’re off somewhere.”

His voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality. A reality I knew was going to bring pain to both of us if I let it continue.

“I have to leave,” I said, grabbing my jacket as I stood up.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” Hurt and worry flashed across his face.

“No. It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t…we can’t…damn it.” My vision blurred as tears started to form.

“Tell me,” he said softly, taking my hand before I could move out of reach.

“I wish I could.” I met his eyes and shook my head. “There’s too much, too much wrong in my life and I won’t bring it into yours as well.”

He didn’t let go of my hand, but he didn’t make any move to pull me closer to him either as he searched my face. “If you’re in trouble maybe I can help.”

“No!” I realized I’d shouted and dropped my voice. “No. There’s no way anyone can help me. I just have to keep hiding and running…” My hand flew to my mouth when I realized what I’d just said. I wrenched free of him grasp. “I’m sorry,” I whispered before I began pushing my way past the people who stood between me and the exit.

I heard him calling me as I opened the door and stepped onto the pavement. Looking around wildly I saw a cab letting out its passengers. Without a thought I jumped in. The driver turned to look at me, shook his head and asked where I wanted to go.

“Just drive, please, now.”

As he took off I looked back and saw Quinn standing there. He looked the way I felt, disconsolate. I almost told the driver to stop, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Burying my face in my hands I cried.

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (5)

Dom watched Tim with a mix of amusement and concern. He's like a kid who suddenly realizes there might be a Santa Claus after all. Now I have to be doubly careful not to break his bubble because it only took seconds for him to go from depression to this. Dom knew that because he'd checked before knocking on Tim's door. Invasive, yes, but if he was going to help Tim, he had to know what he was feeling. He wasn't at all happy with the idea the young man had been so down just because he was a few minutes late. What if I hadn't shown up? Not that I wouldn't have. But what if it had been someone else instead of me? Someone who decided after the fact that he didn't want to bother with a guy as needy as Tim is? 

"I'm ready," Tim said, breaking into Dom's musings.

"Then let's hit it." Dom waited until Tim had closed and locked the door before asking, "How was work?" as they walked to the elevator. "Oh, right, you were off today."

Tim shrugged. "I was, but if I hadn't been it would have been the same as always." Then he smiled. "It's the kids that make it worthwhile. Okay, not quite true. Helping anyone find the right book is a good thing, but showing the kids that reading is where it's at, instead of burying themselves in some TV show or a video game—that makes my day."

"I bet you're good at it," Dom replied, stepping onto the elevator when it arrived.

Tim looked surprised. "Why? I mean you don't even know me, so how do you figure?"

"I'm a good judge of character. After all, you're willing to help me find furniture and"—he grinned—"you don't even know me, to turn your comment back on you. Ergo, I can only imagine how important it is to you to help the kids learn to love something that means so much to you."

Tim seemed disconcerted when he replied softly, "I…I don't mind helping people if they ask. It just doesn't happen often. Well, almost never."

"Your friends don't ask?" Dom knew what Tim would reply to that, but he needed to get the question out there if he was going to come up with a logical way to help him.

"I don't really have any friends to speak of," Tim said desolately. The elevator door opened and he walked into the lobby and quickly across it to the front entrance.

Dom hurried after him. "You have one. Me. I mean…if you want."

"You don't even…"

"Do not go there again," Dom broke in with a smile as they walked out of the building. "No, I don't know you, but I think I'd like to. And furniture shopping is a good way to start. Right?"

"Umm. Right, I guess."

* * * *

Two hours later, when Tim and Dom returned to the apartment building, the truck was loaded with furniture.

"I still think I should have gotten the bigger dresser," Dom said, as he parked in the lot behind the building.

Tim snorted. "Unless your bedroom is a lot larger than mine, there wouldn't have been room for it with the bed and the nightstand you chose. Besides which, it wouldn't have fit in the truck."

"True," Dom agreed, as he got out and then looked at what he had bought, which filled the bed of the truck almost to overflowing as it was. "Now I get to haul all of this upstairs."

"We get to," Tim said, "I'm not going to disappear."

Dom grinned. "If you did, I wouldn't blame you."

"Naw. It might be amusing to see you carry the sofa inside on your back, like you kidded about this morning, but I'd feel guilty if you got squished."

"Yeah, not quite my idea of fun." Dom lowered the tailgate and then, piece by piece, they got the furniture inside and up to his apartment, with much huffing and puffing along the way.

"Finally," Dom said, collapsing on the sofa when they were finished. "I could use a beer or three right about now, but it's getting late, and I think we're both too tired to even think about going out for one."

Tim nodded. "Besides which, we both have to work tomorrow."

"Had to say that, didn't you," Dom replied. "So tell you what, how about we do it tomorrow night."

"Seriously?"

"Sure, why not? Hey, who knows, maybe we'll meet some nice girls."

"Umm…"

Dom studied Tim. "You don't sound too enthusiastic about that idea." 

"No, no, it's just…" Tim chewed the corner of his lip. "Sure, who knows, maybe we will." After that comment, no way am I telling him girls don't interest me. They must interest him though, or he wouldn't have said it.

Dom continued studying him, his head cocked to one side. Then, smiling, he said, "Not your thing, are they?"

Rather than reply to the question, Tim shrugged. "I should get out of here now. You look like you're going to fall asleep sitting there."

Dom chuckled. "I might, since I don't think I have the energy to make the bed. What time do you get home tomorrow?"

"Five."

"Good. How about I pick you up around six? That'll give you time to change clothes and eat supper. We'll have to walk though, since I need to return the truck."

"That's fine. I'll… see you tomorrow then." Tim was at the door by then. "Sleep well."

Dom smiled. "Thanks. I suspect I will."

Tim nodded and left the apartment. As he went down to his, he was smiling. He's a nice guy. Okay, so he's straight but still. Maybe we really will be friends and that's not a bad thing. At least for as long as he's here in town, before his job sends him somewhere else. I can handle that.

Out today--'D-Boy'

D-Boy

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/dboy-p-2311.html

NOTE: This is the re-release of a previously published story.

At sixteen Derek loses his memory -- and his family -- in an accident. He's rescued by the reclusive Michael. Then he begins the long journey to discover his past.

In Denver, Derek finds a job, a place to live, and trouble when someone attempts to kidnap him. Members of the Company help him escape and later recruit him. Ending up in New Orleans, he's nineteen and working undercover when he's teamed with Brad, who teaches him the joys of sex. Heartbroken when he thinks Brad has found another man, Derek transfers to Denver.

At twenty-four, Derek is still with the Company when he remembers more about the accident, leading to shocking revelations about his father. Then Brad is sent to Denver on a job. Can Derek trust Brad's love again while working with him on the assignment?

EXCERPT:

Derek would never forget the last time he saw his parents, even though he couldn't remember their names -- no more than he could remember his own name, the one they'd given him.

His father was driving, his mother beside him, her hands clasped over her belly, as if to protect her unborn child. Derek was in the backseat, watching the road curve through the mountains, rocky heights on one side, a steep drop on the other. A sharp turn ahead, his father taking it carefully, a loud bang as he did -- swerving, tearing metal, the door springing open. Derek was flying.

Michael told him later he must have been thrown free from the wreck. He found him at the base of the cliff and thought he was dead at first "like whoever was else was in the car, though they didn't make it out. Then I felt the flutter of a pulse. So I brought you here."

'Here' was a small cabin deep in the forest. It was Michael's home. Had been forever, Michael told him when Derek finally woke up. That was a week after he'd found him, according to Michael.

Derek was around sixteen, give or take, or so Michael figured. Derek didn't know. He'd been battered and bruised, with a bad abrasion on the back of his head and one broken leg. Michael had set it in a splint made of roughhewn branches then took care of him until he regained consciousness

The man was old, at least in Derek's eyes -- maybe fifty, maybe more. He never said exactly. Gray-haired and scarred, with deep-set blue eyes and a kindly smile -- when he smiled -- which wasn't often. A recluse, he said he had lived the last twenty plus years on his own, deep in the mountains. "Got no use for people," he told Derek.

"What did they call you, boy?" Michael asked, soon after Derek finally awakened.

Derek frowned. He had no memories of anything except the moments before the crash. "I don't remember," he replied, scared and feeling terribly alone, even though Michael was right there beside the small bed.

"Humm. Then we'll have to come up with a name for you for now. I had a friend once, only real friend I ever had. His name was Derek. That suit you, boy?"

He nodded, and so he became Derek. No last name, just Derek.

When he asked, which he finally did -- although he didn't want to know, Michael said he had heard the sound of the crash while he was out hunting.

"Loud enough to wake the dead, so I went to investigate. Wasn't nothing left but a burned out hulk at the bottom of the cliff by the time I got there. That's when I found you, like I said. Hoped maybe whoever was in the car got thrown free, so I looked and there you were. I'm sorry, but your folks didn't make it."

Derek cried then, even though he'd been sure they were dead, and Michael had held him until he stopped. After that, they never talked about it again.

A month after Michael had found him, the splint was off Derek's leg and he could walk without the home-made crutch Michael had devised. However, he limped a bit since the break hadn't been set quite right.

"Now what do we do with you?" Michael asked late one evening after they'd eaten a meal of venison and home-grown vegetables.

(25) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

I hadn’t realized how small and delicate Blair was until we started dancing. The top of his head barely came past my shoulder and he felt almost fragile, like if I held him too tightly he’d break. Not that that stopped me. It felt good holding him close. The music was slow for a change, which is why I chose that moment to ask him to dance. The fast stuff might make my toes tap as I listened, but on the dance floor I was a total klutz trying to keep up with it.

I resisted letting my hands drift down to cup his ass. Every instinct told me that if I did he’d vanish and I’d never see him again. And I was fast coming to believe that I didn’t want that to happen, which was strange for me. Despite what I’d told him, I’d never really even tried to form an attachment that lasted past the morning after. Part of that was because of the job. It took too much of my time, which wouldn’t be fair to anyone I might have wanted to hook up with. And, honestly, part of it was a fear of commitment in general.

Blair broke into my thoughts as he wrapped his arms around my neck. “This is nice,” he said softly.

“Very nice.” My eyes fastened on his mouth and I wondered what he’d taste like if I kissed him. I started to lean in to find out and then pulled back. Another move I was certain would have him running from me fast. ‘Slow and easy’ I cautioned myself.

Apparently he didn’t agree with my thoughts because he rose up on tiptoe to brush his lips over mine. I hesitated before cupping the back of his head in my hand to return the tentative kiss with a gentle one of my own. I felt his breath escape in a soft sigh but he didn’t try to pull away. In fact his tongue slipped out just enough to trace over the line of my lips as if tasting them before it vanished again. If I’d been with anyone else, I’d have taken that as an invitation to plunder his mouth while I had the chance, but with him I vowed to take things one slow step at a time.

Breaking the kiss I looked down into his eyes. They were so dark as to be almost black and I wondered if mine were the same. I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to keep this shy young man in my life.

Before I could say something I probably shouldn’t have the music changed, a pounding beat that matched the throbbing ache in my groin and the pulsing of my heart. I took that as a sign we should get off the dance floor before we got trampled. Putting my arm around his waist I led him back to the table.

(24) I am what I am

~Blair~

Talk about feeling like ten kinds of fool. Why had I even hinted that I thought that’s why Quinn was here at the club, sitting at my table?

So I was totally surprised when he replied with a chuckle, “Not the way you’re thinking. It’s just nice to be around people who see the joy in life.” I knew I must have looked like I didn’t believe that was the only reason because he added, “Though if I met someone who interested me, I wouldn’t turn down a chance to get to know them better in all the ways that implies.”

I looked up to find him studying me as if to see how I’d react to that.

“Do you find a lot of men who interest you?” I blurted out.

“Not all that many, no. And in all honesty, none so far that I’ve wanted to keep around for more than a few days at most. I’m old enough, and jaded enough, to know that most of the men who come to clubs like this are more interested in my body than my mind.” He must have thought about what he’d just said because his smile turned rueful. “That sounded totally conceited didn’t it?”

“You do have a nice body.” Damn, now he was going to think I’m coming on to him. Close mouth, engage brain, before I make a total ass of myself.

He leaned back, laughing, and almost fell off the chair. I guess he forgot he was sitting backwards. The look of surprise on his face had me laughing now.

“You should do that more often,” he told me once he’d regained his balance. “I have a feeling you don’t laugh a lot.”

I thought about that and nodded. “I guess I don’t. How did you know?”

“Instinct,” he replied with a chuckle. “And observation. No laugh lines.” He changed the subject suddenly, asking, “So is coming here your form of getting away and relaxing?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It lets me be my real self.” Hell, now why did I say that?

He nodded, his look turning serious. “You’re closeted?”

“I suppose…Yes. Though I suspect anyone looking at me wouldn’t have much doubt.”

“If you go around dressed like you are now, then yeah. What’s with the eye thing anyway?”

“It’s fun? Okay, so maybe a bit of an affectation too. I don’t often get to let this side of me out.”

He changed the subject on me again. “Do you dance?”

“That was a bit of a non sequitur but yes I do.”

“Good.” He stood, holding out his hand to me. After a moment’s hesitation I took it.

(23) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

Blair smiled and shook his head. “They’re both…My father died when I was a kid and then my mother remarried and died. I mean…she didn’t die because she remarried, she died when I was fourteen.”

“Which was how many years ago? And you’d better say at least…” I did a quick calculation in my head, “at least seven years ago.”

“Or you’ll arrest me for being here when I’m underage?” He grinned and it lit up his eyes so that they were almost silver rather than the dark gray of storm clouds.

“No, since you’re drinking water you’re safe. But how old are you actually, just out of curiosity?”

“Almost twenty-three, and you?”

“Thirty-four and counting,” I admitted.

He studied my face for a long moment. “You don’t look it, not really. Maybe here,” his fingertip brushed lightly over the corner of my eye, “but those are laugh lines so they don’t really count.”

“And you surmised that how?”

“Instinct?” he said with a small shrug.

“Well I like the idea.”

“Why? You do laugh don’t you? I mean sometimes, when you’re not working. That wouldn’t make you even smile, I guess. And I’m babbling.”

“No you’re not, you’re just talking and there’s nothing wrong with that. Yeah there’s not too much to smile about in what I do, until a case gets solved. That’s what makes the whole thing worth it though.”

Blair nodded slowly as he listened. “I don’t think I could handle having to see someone who’d been killed, murdered.” He shuddered and his brow creased with a frown. “Is that why… No, never mind.”

“Why what, Blair?”

“Why you come here. To try to…to find someone to help you relieve the stress of the job,” he replied, his words tumbling out as he blushed and looked away.

(22) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

I noticed the slight hesitation when Blair said he worked at a restaurant and wondered if it was more than that. He definitely had the slender, enticing type of body that made me imagine him working at a fancy club, maybe as a dancer or even a drag queen. But I wasn’t going to push to find out if I was right or not. He seemed tense and I didn’t want to add to it. If San Pierre was correct, this young man had never let anyone try to pick him up. I was almost shocked when he said I could join him.

Damn he was beautiful, almost fey in the good way. He brought out my protective instincts big time.

“Quinn?”

I shook my head, realizing I’d been staring at him. “Yes?”

“I asked what you did.” His face was flushed as if he wasn’t used to someone looking at him the way I’d been and I smiled, trying to ease his tension.

“I’m a cop, a detective actually.”

“Seriously?” He looked at me and then his eyes roved over my body as if assessing the truth of my answer by the way I was build or the clothes I was wearing, or… Hell I didn’t know but when I told him yes I was serious he accepted it. “Like the ones in the movies who go after thieves and murders?” He winced then and looked down at his glass. “That sounded very childish didn’t it?”

“Not at all, and yes that kind, though trust me it’s not nearly as romantic as they portray it on the screen. It’s pretty much drudge work all told.” I reached across to lift his chin so that he’d look at me again, expecting him to pull away. I wanted to reassure him that I didn’t find him childish in the least. “Most people think that’s how cops are, like in the movies.”

When he chewed the corner of his lip before replying I thought it was one of the most endearing things I’d ever seen. “Do you like doing that?” he asked.

“I do actually, yeah. I’ve got a strong protective streak. I suspect it comes from growing up as the oldest of four kids and the only boy.”

“Wow, big family. I’m an only.” Something flashed deep in his eyes, pain and I’d almost swear, fear, for a second and then they were back to normal. “Did you...is your family here?”

“No, back east, that’s where I grew up. How about yours? Well not the ‘here’ part,” I said, chuckling.

Guardian Angels - If It's Fated… (4)

Tim almost cheered when he looked out the front window the next morning and saw sunshine. Not that the snow would melt anytime soon but at least it had stopped, and hopefully the sidewalks would be shoveled. He got dressed quickly, made breakfast, and then flicked on the TV to check the temperature. Surfing the channels, he hit one of the two local stations just in time for the last of the morning news. "Thirty-two? Not so bad." Turning it off, he grabbed his scarf, wrapping it around his neck, put on his coat and gloves, and with his backpack slung over one shoulder, took off.

The sunlight glared off the snow, causing him to blink a few times before his eyes got used to it. The apartment building's sidewalks were already shoveled, as were most of the ones he saw ahead of him for the next block, until the he reached the main cross street. There, because the buildings were primarily businesses—some of which didn't open until ten or later—he would have had to follow the path beaten down by earlier pedestrians if he was going to work. Being his day off, he wasn't.

But who cares? At least it's not snowing and from the look of it, it's not going to today.

He walked into the local coffee shop on the corner to get his usual morning Americano. Much to his surprise, the barista greeted him with a cheerful 'Good morning'. Tim looked around, figuring it must have been meant for someone else but at the moment, he was the only one at the counter.

"Morning," he replied.

"Your usual?" the barista asked.

"Americano, yes."

"What's that?" someone asked from behind him.

Tim turned to find Dom standing there. "You don't know?"

Dom chuckled. "Wouldn't have asked if I did."

"It's… well… basically, watered down espresso."

"Why water it down?"

"Because it tastes better than just coffee, but isn't as strong as pure espresso."

Dom looked at the barista, saying "I'll take one too, and one of those." He pointed to a breakfast sandwich in the case beside the counter. "No food in the apartment yet," he explained to Tim. "I guess that should go to the top of my list of things to do. Speaking of which, I'm glad I ran into you. I have a favor to ask, when you have the time."

"I have the time now, so ask away," Tim replied with a small smile.

"Okay, I guess I didn't phrase that quite right. I could use your help, if you're willing. I want to go to that thrift shop you mentioned and I thought maybe you could take me there—and perhaps help me choose some furniture?"

Tim swallowed hard. He's really asking me to help him? Me? "Umm… sure, I guess. Now? I'm off today."

"I wish I was," Dom said with a rueful smile. "How about late this afternoon, if it doesn't start snowing again? Do you know if they deliver?"

Tim nodded. "Yes. Or I guess I should say they did when I shopped there, so…"

"Got the picture. Let's hope they still do. I don't see myself carrying a sofa home on my back."

"I don't think that's possible," Tim replied seriously.

Dom laughed. "I was just kidding. Actually, I'd think I'll rent a truck. Then I won't have to wait for stuff to be delivered."

"Ah, umm, yeah." Tim felt stupid that he didn't get Dom's joke, so he was glad when the barista handed him is Americano. After paying for it, he told Dom, "I have to get going, but if you want to do it this evening… around five?"

"Sure, that works for me. I'll see you then."

* * * *

"He's not going to show up," Tim muttered morosely.

He glanced at the time and saw it was just past five-thirty. He probably found the shop on his own and… and someone he works with has a truck and offered to help him. Story of my life. No one really means what they say.

He dropped down on the sofa, suddenly not the least bit hungry, even though he'd planned on suggesting he could fix a quick meal for both of them before they went to the thrift store. "Dreamer," he said, shaking his head. "He told me this morning he had to go shopping for groceries. He probably did that right after work, got home, made supper then went to meet his friend."

Laying his head against the back of the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I believe someone might want to be my friend? It's never happened before. Not really. Acquaintances, yeah, occasionally. Some regulars at the library who makes it a point to ask me about books. A tenant or two here. The ones who bother to talk to me in the elevator. That's it. I'm about as…as useful as…as that damned picture. With his head on the back of the sofa, he was able to squint up at it, seeing it upside down. I fill a space, just like it does. If I wasn't there, no one would even notice.

He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to just drift off to sleep and never wake up. "Peaceful," he whispered. "No more pain, no more rejection, no more…anything."

A sharp rap at the door startled him out of his reverie. He sprang to his feet, hurrying over to answer it then stopped before he did. Why bother? If it is him, he'll apologize, say he found the shop without my help and got his friend with the truck to help him move what he bought into his apartment. But maybe…

"Hi" Dom said, smiling when Tim opened the door. "Sorry I'm so late but it took forever at the truck rental place and I didn't have your number, so I couldn't call you."

"Oh." Tim felt a wave of relief wash over him. "I… I figured you'd gotten a friend to help you and… well…"

Dom leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head. "You're the only friend I've made so far since I got here. So…" When Tim just stood there, Dom added, "It's pretty cold outside. You might want to put on a jacket. I mean… if you're still willing to help me."

"I am!" Tim turned, dashing to get his coat and gloves.

(21) I am what I am

~Blair~

I huddled back in my small space in the far corner of the club, watching the noisy group of men at the table closest to me. From the sound of it, it must have been the red-head’s birthday and he was definitely lapping up all the attention he was getting. I wondered how soon it would be before one or another of them dragged him off to the men’s room for a ‘special’ birthday present.

Bored now, but too lazy to get up and fight the crowds to get to the door, I closed my eyes and listened to what I could hear of the music. Believe it or not I was starting to doze off despite the heat and the noise. My eyes snapped open when I heard someone say, “You look like you need this.”

“Like a hole in the head,” I started to say before actually looking at the man standing there. So I modified it to, “Like, yes I do. It’s hot in here.” He was tall, I’d guess six one, six two, with those kind of amazing hazel eyes that are almost green with gold centers, rather than being a blend. I swallowed hard as I took the glass of water.

“I agree. Hot and crowded.” He smiled and it lit up his face, which wasn’t a good thing for me because I could feel myself reacting.

“Do you…? May I join you?” he asked me in a tone of voice both hesitant and interested.

And against my better judgment I nodded. Why, I had no idea. Since I’d come to this city I’d only done that once before, with a creep who thought he wanted me to play a bondage game with him only to discover he couldn’t get it up once we got to that point. I ended up going home totally frustrated. But now? Well getting to know someone couldn’t really hurt I decided. “Please do,” I told him.

He set his bottle of beer down on the tiny table and the swung the chair next to me around, straddling it with his arms resting on the back. I laughed and his eyebrow rose in question. “That such a ‘male’ thing to do,” I explained.

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, I am male.”

I almost said that I definitely had noticed then bit back that response. “Everyone here is I guess,” I replied instead.

“No kidding.” He glanced around as if in surprise and then laughed when I looked like I thought he was serious. “I’m teasing you.” He held out a hand. “I’m Quinn by the way.”

Shaking it tentatively I told him my name.

“I don’t think I’ve met a Blair before,” was his response as he held my hand a beat longer than was absolutely necessary. “Are you a native, a visitor or in between?”

“I’ve been here for, wow, a couple of months already.” I thought about that. “Yeah, that long.”

“May I ask what you do?”

“I work at a…restaurant.”

(20) I am what I am

~ Quinn ~

We got back to the squad room mid afternoon and spent the rest of the day writing up the never-ending reports. By the time we’d finished I was more than ready to head home. Or to a club to unwind after a hellishly long couple of days.

That thought had merit actually. It had been too long since I’d gone out just for the hell of it. And I knew just the place, a small watering hole that catered to the gay community with good music and a relaxed atmosphere. Not a meat market, although it was quite possible to find a good man there for a one night stand if you were really looking.

I stopped on the way back to my place long enough to pick up some Chinese, which I ate while deciding what to wear, finishing it off after a nice hot shower that did wonders for my tension level.

Dressed and ready to leave I paused long enough to put my small back-up gun, in its IWB holster. Not that I was planning on running into any trouble but I never went anywhere outside my place without carrying. Part of the cop mentality according to an old sergeant of mine. You always needed a gun when you didn’t have it with you.

For a Sunday night, the club was busy. I stood at the bar nursing a beer as I looked the place over. The pocket-sized dance floor was crowded and every table was full. Some even had hangers-on standing beside them as they talked to the men lucky enough to have gotten a seat before them.

“You look interested and bored at the same time,” a voice said from behind me. I turned and chuckled. It was San Pierre, or as he tagged himself—'one of the sexiest bartenders in the city'—and totally off-limits unless you wanted his partner to squash you flat. At six seven and well over two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, San's partner was not someone you wanted to mess with, and going after San would put you on his shit list real fast.

“One of those nights I guess," I replied. "I might be interested—if anyone came close to competing with you. They don’t so I’m bored.” Resting against the bar I finished off my beer and ordered another.

“Guess you haven’t spotted the loner in the corner then.” San Pierre nodded to the back of the room and my eyes widened slightly. Barely visible, because of the table full of happy campers between him and me, was a delicate vision in shades of blue, or at least as much of him as I could see was wearing blue. A pale indigo shirt opened to mid-chest topped by a deep blue leather vest. His hair, so blonde it was almost white, was combed back severely which accented high cheekbones and an arrow straight nose. Around one eye he’d painted a deep blue swoosh whose tip almost touched the hair at his temple.

Now I’ve never been one to favor men in make-up, especially the kind that bordered on goth, but on him that one elegant swoop of color worked.  

“He’s not a regular is he, San?”

“No. This is only the third time I’ve seen him here.” San Pierre patted my arm, adding, “And don’t get your hopes up. No one but no one even gets to buy him a drink. If they try he sends it back untouched.”

“Now that’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

“I’m warning you, Quinn, you’re in for a disappointment if you try.”

I shrugged. “I’ll be no worse off than I am now, will I? What’s his drink of choice?”

“Water with a twist. He’s never ordered anything but that.”

“Good, make one up for me.”

San Pierre’s eyebrows shot up in amused disbelief but he did as I’d asked.