More, page 29
“I thought I'd lost my mind. You were like no men I'd ever been with.”
He rolled me over in a quick flip that knocked the breath from my chest. He flattened his body over mine and kissed me again. The force of it filled me with an ache for more.
“I love you so damn much, Luke Moore.”
I held his face in my hands and pressed my forehead to his. “I... ”
His eyes scanned mine. His chest heaved with each breath.
“Richard, I— ”
He brought a finger to my lips. “Not yet. Not now. He should be here.”
I nodded.
We kissed and touched. Neither of us rushed to get off or make the moment about sex when it was about much more.
Eventually, Richard's hands stilled. He cleared his throat.
“What has he done?” I asked. I couldn't look at him.
A large thumb pushed at my chin until my eyes met his. “I like that you know me so well, but it makes it hard to break news to you gently. Sort of irritating in a way.”
I rolled us over and straddled his thighs. “I need to know. You're not the one who's hurting me. He is.”
“I know.” His tongue wet his lips. “Well, he's been busy.”
“Great.”
“There's some people who don't want to work with me anymore. They were interested before he talked to them.”
It was inevitable, but hearing it pissed me off. I had more to lose than ever before. My body shook, and the dread gripped my heart. I collapsed onto his chest.
He ran a hand over my back. “So what if he takes away some business? Big deal. I don't want to see him hurt you like this. It isn't worth it. I have you. That's what matters to me. You and Matthew. We're not letting him come between us. If I lost you that would be... ” Richard didn't finish his prediction.
I wrapped my arms tighter around him. “And if he killed his college friend?”
“Let's let Walter deal with that.”
“Maybe he'll come after us. You. Matthew.”
“I won't live my life in fear. If he's guilty of something, we have to have faith the police will handle it.”
“And until then?” I sat up. “I should go.”
Richard's hands tightened on my hips. “No.” He spat the word out in a curt, definitive tone. He wasn't going to argue with me on that point. “And no more investigating your father. He's dangerous. That's obvious.”
“All right.”
We held each other, my body draped over his, the Chinese food long forgotten, until Matthew came in the front door.
“Hey,” Matthew called out from the hall, his voice tense.
I lifted my head.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
“My father's messing with Richard's business again.” And then I saw it in his eyes. The light and fire were muted. “What's wrong with you?”
Richard reacted to my words. He rolled over as I moved off him.
Matthew shifted on his feet, and his body vibrated. Anger. I'd seen it once before.
Richard stood. “Matthew?”
I went to him. “What is it?” I placed a hand on his arm and tried to calm him.
“My mom had a visitor yesterday. He said he was a friend of mine. He told her I was going to hell, said he knew how to make me better, make me see how wrong I've been. He told her about a place where I could get healthy again.”
“Goddammit.” I headed for the door.
Richard grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you're going?”
“This has to stop.”
“Let's give it some time. See what Walter can find out.” He steered me to the couch. They sat on either side of me.
Matthew wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. “I'm not going anywhere. Nothing he says or does will make me leave you.”
Nothing?
I trusted Matthew, but I'd never trust my father. What could he do to make Matthew leave me? I didn't want to know.
Richard placed a hand on my thigh. “He was at your mom's?” he asked Matthew.
“Not his father. When I asked her what the man looked like, it didn't sound like him. This was someone else. Younger, tall, dark haired. She said he was good-looking, even pleasant at first.”
I pulled back from Matthew's embrace. “Fowler. My father's assistant.” I waved a hand in the air. “Lackey. Dirty-handed messenger. Call him what you'd like. He works for my father.”
Richard snorted. “Makes sense. Send someone else, never get his hands dirty. What did your mom say to him?”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Matthew's face. “She threw his ass out, of course. She might be small, but she's tough when it comes to people telling her there's something wrong with me. She's a member of PFLAG for God's sake. He had no idea what he was up against.” He paused. “It pissed me off is all. I know he was after you with this stunt, but she's my mom. This has nothing to do with her.”
“I'm sorry.” I feared I'd be saying those words more and more over the coming months, maybe years. The realization pressed heavy on my chest.
My father could not run for president. He didn't deserve it. And we didn't deserve the agony.
Matthew took my face in his hands. “Don't ever apologize for him. You didn't make him who he is. You didn't ask for him to hurt you and everyone else in the process. He can try to get rid of us all he wants. We're not going anywhere.”
“That's what I said.” Richard kissed Matthew and then me.
Matthew nuzzled my cheek. His eyelashes brushed over my skin. “I love you. It'll be okay. I promise.”
All I could say in response was, “I'm afraid of what he'll do next.”
Chapter Thirty-six
I glanced at the printout once more, tucked it in my pocket, and smiled. I hadn't had anything to be excited about since my father's threats came to light. It felt good to think of something positive instead of the anger looming over every other moment.
Matthew's laptop would arrive in one week. I couldn't wait. It should shock the shit out of him.
“Luke.”
I glanced up.
Matthew weaved through the crowd on the train, smiling as he made his way to me.
“Hey,” I said. “Where were you?”
“I had problems signing up for classes online. I went to the school to get it worked out.” He gave me a quick kiss and slipped his hand into mine.
The public display of affection would have bothered me a few months back. But with Matthew, it wasn't the flagrant display I expected it to be. He was subtle and sweet. I accepted his hand in mine.
A man in a business suit sat across from us reading a newspaper. There, on the first page below the fold, was a story about my father's potential presidential bid. The man behind the paper glanced our way. I'd seen that look of disgust too many times in my life.
Matthew gave my hand a squeeze and let go. Subtle and sweet, but not crazy.
It hit me then, how different Matthew would be if being gay wasn't something that could still get the shit kicked out of him— or worse. He'd have been happy to hold my hand the entire ride home. Hatred had turned that impulse into something he had to hide, something he had to remember to hold back on.
Sometimes the world just plain fucking sucked. There was not one thing wrong with Matthew, certainly nothing worth hiding. He didn't deserve any of it.
For once in my life, I wanted to fix things. I wanted to join every group aimed at making the world more tolerable. If the ACLU had given me a call right then, I'd have signed over my savings.
Matthew gave me a smile and I relaxed. He chatted about his classes, showing me the catalog descriptions and times he'd signed up for. He couldn't hold back his enthusiasm, and by the time we walked in the front door, my smile was as wide as his.
“I talked to Richard this morning,” he said and set his keys on the hall table. “He's making dinner tonight to wish me luck at school.”
“We'll have to think of some way to thank him.” I grabbed his ass.
He giggled and strolled down the hall. I followed him, loving his laugh. It called to me.
He stopped in the living room doorway, his laughter cut short. I stepped around him. The room was dark and Richard was slumped in a chair at the far corner, his forearm resting on the arm of the chair, a glass dangling from his fingers.
“Richard?” Matthew's voice hitched.
I crossed the room and knelt next to the chair. “What's wrong?”
He finally lifted his head. He glared at me for a moment before reaching for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the end table. The bottle clanked against the rim of the glass as he poured more of the booze. He was drunk. It wasn't a good look on him.
He finished pouring and said, “Kid, can you give me and Luke a minute alone?”
Matthew stepped closer to the chair. “What's wrong?”
“I'm not planning to stop drinking any time soon, and I don't want you to see me like this.”
I grabbed Richard's hand and stilled the glass before it could reach his lips again. “What happened?”
He let me steer the glass away from him. “Matthew, please— ”
I set the glass on the coffee table. “He's fine.”
“What is it?” Matthew asked as he sat on the arm of the chair.
“I couldn't close the condominium deal.”
Matthew laid a hand on Richard's shoulder. “Why?”
Did he have to ask?
“The funds I needed weren't available.”
Matthew began a slow rub over Richard's tense muscles. “I thought you said you had enough people on board this time?”
“I did. But some bank transfers I authorized yesterday moved the investors’ money into a series of new accounts.”
Matthew looked to me then back to Richard. “New accounts?”
“Accounts that have since been closed.”
Matthew shook his head. “I don't understand.”
“I didn't transfer the money, but someone made it look like I did.”
Matthew looked my way again.
I moved to the couch. “This doesn't make any sense. He can't possibly think this is going to work. No one's going to believe you thought you'd get away with a one-day transfer of millions of dollars.”
“But they will believe I intentionally inflated property values and lied to my investors. At the same time the funds were stolen, someone bought property in Ellis Park under my company's name.”
“Ellis Park?”
“Yeah. Not a neighborhood where investors build high-rise condos. More like low-rent trailer parks.” Richard reached for the glass of whiskey but didn't take a drink. “I've seen this kind of thing before. They'll investigate the business, me. I'll lose all my investors. They'll freeze my assets.” He finally met my gaze. “We could lose the house.”
“There's got to be a way they can track the money.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. They aren't going to take my word that I didn't do this. Or that your father— ” The ring of the phone cut him off.
Matthew stood. “I'll get it.” He didn't move, though. He reached for Richard and forced the other man to look at him. “You aren't going to be in trouble for something you didn't do.” He kissed Richard's forehead and left the room.
“Guess ‘kid’ really does fit him.” Richard swallowed the whiskey until the glass was empty.
The phone continued to ring, sounding loud in the dark room.
“Luke! Richard!”
Richard sprang from the chair and, despite his drunken state, made it across the living room in a quick clip. I followed, and we stepped into the dining room where Matthew stood with his back to the wall, staring off to where a lone figure sat across the room.
The phone stopped ringing.
The light was off, and dark shadows fell across the man's face, but as soon as he spoke, I knew who sat at our table.
“Hello, Richard. The senator wanted to thank you for the generous donation to his campaign fund.” The revolting tone sounded all too much like my father's. “You have such a lovely home. It's a shame you're going to lose it all.” The fingers on one hand tapped the tabletop. I didn't want him touching our furniture, tainting our home. “I'm here with a message. You'll leave these men and live alone or you'll lose them. Those are your only options.” He slunk out of the chair, a lion hunting the prey. Light fell on his hard face and cast him in an eerie glimmer. “Make your choice, Luke. Their lives or your dick.”
“Get the hell out of my house!” Richard stepped forward, faltering at first, but he seemed to sober more with each step.
Matthew moved to my other side. “He'd really hurt us?”
Fowler smirked. “Not on his own. He has a way of convincing people to do all sorts of things. Just ask Luke's mother.”
He was right on that. Somehow my father had convinced her to hate her only child. Did I want to know how?
Fowler continued. “He's going to be a powerful man soon. I'm more than willing to help him succeed. We can make this all go away. A simple bank error. The money will be returned. Everyone will be safe.”
“Fuck you.” I spat the words. “I'm staying with them. And I'm going to the police.” My hands clenched into balls at my sides, fist-sized missiles ready to strike at him.
The smirk never faded as he stepped farther into the light. “You'll embarrass yourself. No one will ever believe you. All you can do is what he's offering. He'll leave them alone if you'll give them up. The reporters are going to follow you, report on everything you do. He wants you living alone and acting the part of the supportive son when they do. You have one week to decide.”
“I'm not leaving. You tell him I am not leaving them. Now get out of here!” I lunged at the man. Anger blocked out every other thought, every other reaction or instinct. Richard caught my arm and stopped me from charging ahead with all of the rage finally, powerfully escaping me. I met his pleading eyes.
Fowler's next movement happened fast, and I had trouble understanding what had occurred until he stood behind Matthew. He wrapped an arm around him and raised a knife to the kid's throat.
All I could see were Matthew's eyes— those sweet, loving, cheerful eyes. Only they weren't cheerful, and Matthew wasn't laughing or bouncing. He was frightened and alone. Even with the mere feet between us and him, he was alone in the man's grip. One slight movement of the knife and...
In that moment, I understood hatred.
I hated my father.
I hated this man standing before us.
I hated that my life choices had destroyed Richard's business and had put a knife at Matthew's throat just as surely as if I'd done the deeds myself.
But I wasn't to blame. I hadn't been the one to twist my life with them into evil acts of hatred. I hadn't asked my father to despise my life and fear my choices would undo his.
“Don't hurt him.” Richard no longer sounded strong or confident or angry. He sounded small, nervous. He knew the damage a blade could do. “Let him go and leave, and we won't call the cops. Just— don't hurt him.” He lifted a hand and stepped toward Matthew.
Fowler clenched the knife. The blade grazed along the pale skin. A scratch. A warning.
Richard stilled. “Don't.”
The intruder hauled Matthew tighter against him. Seeing Matthew touched by the hands of depravity sent an icy chill through every part of me.
Matthew shook. His hands clutched at the other man's arm.
I had to do something. Anything. I couldn't stand still for one more moment.
They were five feet from me. I could move damn fast, but would it be fast enough?
My eyes connected with Matthew's. He glanced down at his right arm and back to me with a small nod.
I waited for his move. I had to be ready. Richard was still drunk, but he'd do whatever he could to save Matthew. He'd back me up if I needed it.
It went down fast. Matthew elbowed Fowler in the gut. Fowler doubled over, dropping his hand with the knife until it was nowhere near Matthew's exposed throat. Matthew leaped forward.
I was damn proud of him, and I almost didn't move in time.
Almost.
I charged forward and caught our intruder's throat in one hand and his wrist in the other. I gripped tight on both counts, stilling the knife in his hand. I threw my weight at him and shoved him against the wall, slamming the back of his hand into the hard surface over and over until he dropped the knife.
“No one is hurting them. Not my father. Not you. No one.”
My hands squeezed his neck harder. Anger and rage flowed out the ends of my fingers as they dug into flesh.
His voice came in a whisper, traveling on the last bit of air. “He can do whatever he likes. He always does.”
“Not this time.” My fingers dug in deeper and intensified the choke. The man seized my arms. He wrenched back and forth, gasping.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Stop, Luke.” Richard stood at my side. “Let him go.”
Despite the anger, the fury, the need to end it all, I did what Richard asked.
Fowler stumbled away and fell to his hands and knees. He wheezed and gulped, his body not under his own control. When he could stand, he scurried off like a rat, coughing and sputtering as he went.
My gaze lingered on the open door of our home, and my feet lurched a few steps forward. They weren't ready to let him go. What would I do if I caught up to him?
Chapter Thirty-seven
I froze, staring at the door where Fowler had made his exit. My thoughts settled on nothing but the intent, determined hatred that had overcome me when I'd seen the knife at Matthew's throat.
Matthew.
I spun around. Richard had toppled over, and Matthew was holding on to him. I rushed to them, and we maneuvered Richard into a chair.
We didn't speak. We didn't move. Our eyes stated the relief we couldn't voice.
I reached a hand out to Matthew and pulled him to my chest. I kissed the dark waves above his ear and wrapped my arms around him. “Are you okay?”
