Endings and Beginnings Page 2

  Leo leaned in and kissed him. “He’s in good hands,” he said softly. “And if he needs you, you know he’ll tell you. He always has, hasn’t he?”

  “I suppose.” Alex didn’t sound convinced.

  Leo cupped Alex’s cheek and locked gazes with him. “Then trust him now.” He released Alex and gave a quick glance toward the private rooms. He hoped Laura had things under control.

  A flare of pain through his temples killed whatever else he’d been about to say. Leo wasn’t surprised. The morning’s tension had taken its toll on his body. He winced when a fresh wave of pain spread across the top of his head.

  “Leo? What’s wrong?”

  “Apart from what feels like the beginnings of a migraine, nothing.” He didn’t get them often, so maybe he was overdue for one.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Alex kept his voice low. “Have you got your tablets with you?”

  “Ye—damn. No, they’re at home. Aspirin will have to do. I have some in the desk drawer in the office.”

  Alex kissed his temple very, very gently. “I’ll fetch a couple, along with some water.”

  Leo gave him a grateful smile, and Alex hurried off to the office.

  I’m a lucky man. His heart went out to Thomas. If Peter was hurting, then so was his best friend.

  ALEX STEPPED inside the office Leo and Thomas shared and closed the door before making his way to the desk. He opened the center drawer but found no aspirin. He went to the next drawer. Bingo. A bottle of aspirin lay on its side, next to a frame lying facedown. Alex picked up both and found himself looking at his husband, albeit a younger looking Leo. It was a photograph he’d never seen before. Leo had his arm wrapped around another man’s shoulder. They were smiling. In that instant he knew. Alex recognized the pure joy that radiated from his man.

  “Gabe,” Alex said softly.

  As he ran his fingers over the picture, Alex wondered why Leo kept it in his desk drawer. He could understand Leo doing that when he and Alex had first met. Alex knew himself well enough to know how he would’ve reacted if he’d found the photo then. The old Alex would have felt threatened, uncertain, unwanted. But he hadn’t been that Alex in a long time—Leo had seen to that. He’d instilled Alex with confidence, the ability to assess a situation and come up with a way to deal with it instead of letting himself be sucked down into self-doubt.

  Alex studied Gabe’s features, the happy smile, the bright eyes. Leo never talked with Alex about Gabe. He knew they’d been in love—any fool who saw the picture would know that. Did he think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Or maybe Leo wasn’t prepared to talk about him. Either way, Gabe didn’t belong in a drawer. Alex smiled and slid the picture into what Leo always referred to jokingly as his “manbag.” He grabbed two bottles of water from the small refrigerator and hurried back to Leo.

  JJ was back behind the bar, and Leo was sitting at one of the tables, massaging his head gently. Poor baby. Not that Alex would have said that to his face, and especially not in front of JJ. Alex didn’t know the barman all that well—he’d only been with the club about four months—but Alex was certain one did not refer to one of the club’s two owners as “baby.”

  Alex handed over the two bottles and sat at Leo’s side.

  “Thank you,” Leo murmured gratefully. He cracked the bottle of water, popped the two tablets in his mouth, then swished them around before swallowing, wincing.

  “Problem?” Alex asked, trying to stifle a chuckle.

  Leo scowled. “I can’t swallow pills. Which you bloody well know.”

  Alex laughed, then covered his mouth when he saw JJ looking at him. Alex coughed. “So you can deep-throat, but a little pill gives you problems?”

  Leo flushed. “It’s a good job I love you.”

  Alex smirked, and Leo attempted to raise his eyebrows, giving up when it clearly caused him pain.

  “Just remember one thing, smartarse. Migraines don’t last, and when this one is gone, I will still remember everything.”

  Alex grinned. “Ooh, I’m so scared of the Big Bad Dom.” Behind him he caught JJ’s smothered gasp.

  When Leo was feeling better, Alex was going to be in trouble.

  Yeah, bring it on.

  Chapter Two

  THOMAS STOOD, his back to the wall, never taking his eyes off his lover. Peter’s head was bowed, his hands clutching the arms of the chair, while Laura spoke to him quietly. Thomas didn’t need to hear what was said. That was between them. He knew from past experience that if Laura felt she could share something, she would.

  One look at his flushed face and neck, the clenched hands, the tremors that occasionally rippled through him, was enough to tell Thomas his boy was suffering. The realization made Thomas’s stomach churn. He didn’t think for one second that Laura could make all the hurt and rage go away with a few whispered words of comfort or advice. No, this was a stopgap until both of them were able to sit down and discuss what was happening at length.

  I really thought we’d weathered this particular storm. In that moment it seemed to Thomas that the last few years had simply been a time of respite after a squall, a momentary lull before the storm clouds gathered and obliterated the sunlight.

  He closed his eyes, his heart aching for what Peter was going through. His limbs felt like dead weights. He’s going to need me. Not just Thomas—all his friends. Because Thomas wasn’t sure he could do this on his own.

  “Thomas?”

  He opened his eyes, and Laura beckoned him. Peter stared at the floor, his expression blank.

  “I think Peter needs to go home now,” she said quietly. “I’ll expect to see him in my office at ten on Monday morning.” She smiled. “Yes, I know it’s a bank holiday, but I’ll be open for business as usual. You can bring him, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t stay for the session.” She smiled at Peter. “We have a lot of things to discuss.”

  Peter blinked and swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, the word leaving his lips in a sigh.

  “Thank you, Laura.” Thomas regarded Peter keenly. “Let’s go home.”

  Peter nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet. All the fight seemed to have left him, and this quiet, subdued Peter was nothing like the man Thomas had come to know and love. For a moment he wished for nothing more than the opportunity to hurl his rage at the sky, to growl at the man who’d brought his lover to this state. He wanted Curtis there, close enough to see into Thomas’s eyes, to see the rage that burned there, the white-hot anger that wanted to see Curtis dead for what he’d done.

  Except he was already dead.

  Laura followed him and Peter from the room. In the bar Leo was sitting at a table, drinking water and talking quietly with Alex. No one else was in sight.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Leo squinted at him, his forehead furrowed. “Ben and Scott have gone home to discuss changing their wedding day, JJ’s just left, and Alex is going to go home and change before his shift at Severino’s.” He huffed out a long breath. “And I am debating staying here or going home for a couple of hours to find an ice pack in the freezer and apply it to my aching head.” He gazed past Thomas to where Peter was standing with Laura. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” Thomas said absently. Things were far from fine, but nothing he could do right then was going to alter that. “Do you want me to work today? I know it’s you on the roster, but look at you. You’re in no state.”

  Leo stared at him. “I will be fine once the painkillers kick in. You, on the other hand, need to go home and spend time with your boy. So go.” He muttered under his breath, something about an overactive duty gland.

  Thomas held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He speared Leo with a firm stare. “But if you change your mind, you’ll—”

  “I’ll call someone like Jonathon, not you.” Leo gave him a mock glare. “Go home, old man. Peter?”

  “Yes, sir?” Peter came forward slowly.

  Leo pointed at Thomas. “Take him ho
me, and make sure he stays there.”

  Peter bobbed his head, but there was no smile. Leo got up slowly from the table and took his car keys from his pocket. He held them out to Alex.

  “You get to drive the Mazda.”

  Alex was clearly trying not to grin. “Yes.” He went over to Peter and gave him a hug. “Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

  Peter nodded. “I just feel a little tired, to be honest. Maybe after a rest I’ll feel better.” He returned Alex’s hug. “Thanks.” When Alex gave him a quizzical glance, Peter frowned. “I’m fine, all right?”

  After nearly three years together, Thomas knew Peter’s moods. He’d watched the young man since they’d rescued him from Curtis Rogers, and whatever else Peter might have been right then, he definitely wasn’t fine. For one thing, he was always generous with any hug he gave Alex, but this time it had been stiff, almost painful to see. There had been no smile, no true affection, just a robotic squeeze.

  Peter came to stand by Thomas. “Are you ready to go home, Peter?” When Peter merely nodded, Thomas laid a hand on Peter’s arm. “Are you okay, lad?”

  Peter sucked in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

  The venom in Peter’s voice caught Thomas off guard. His attitude since they’d arrived at the club had gone downhill dramatically. While Thomas understood the shock and pain Peter had to be feeling, it didn’t excuse the attitude. He pulled back his hand.

  “Wait for me at the car,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. Without a word, Peter strode out of the club.

  This is not good.

  “Thomas.”

  Laura’s quiet voice beside him gave him a start. She squeezed his shoulder lightly.

  “He’s not himself right now, and I know that was no way to speak to you, but please, don’t take it personally. He’s really hurting, but he can’t take out his rage on the person he’s mad at, so he’s lashing out at those nearest to him. The thing is, Peter knows deep down that you don’t deserve it, but he can’t help himself.”

  “So what do you suggest I do, Laura?” Thomas leaned against the bar with both hands, his head down, eyes tight shut.

  There was that gentle squeeze again.

  “Don’t treat him any differently. Yes, he needs to know you’re there for him, but he also needs to understand that, even though he’s angry at the world right now, your expectations about his behavior haven’t changed. I know it’s tempting to want to wrap him in cotton wool and protect him, but if you ignore it when he steps out of line, you are not doing him any favors.” She smiled. “You’re his Master. He might have forgotten that, but you haven’t, have you?”

  He had to smile at that. “No, no I haven’t.”

  Laura grinned. “Then maybe Peter needs a reminder of what the D stands for in BDSM.” With that she kissed his cheek and walked out through reception.

  Thomas watched her departure, deep in thought. Maybe it was time for some discipline.

  JJ CLOSED his front door behind him, locked it, and drew the bolt across. He didn’t have that much for anyone to break in and steal from him, but he wasn’t about to take his chances. It wasn’t the safest of neighborhoods, but like the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. One lousy room with a postage-stamp-sized bathroom, but it was all he could afford. Still, if Ben offered him more hours, maybe he could find something better.

  And there I go again, acting like I’m going to be staying.

  The truth was, he didn’t know anymore.

  JJ dumped his backpack and keys onto the small table and trudged across to the sofa bed that was left permanently unfolded. He sat on the edge and flopped onto his back, throwing an arm across his eyes to blot out the sight of that hideous lampshade. The morning hadn’t gone like he’d expected, but then nothing had gone like he’d expected from the minute he’d walked into that club. When he’d applied for the job, four months previously, he’d assumed he knew what he’d be walking into. He’d watched BDSM videos. He read stuff. And yet nothing had prepared him for what he saw.

  And that was before he’d met the people….

  Everyone was… nice. Average, but nice. Well, okay, maybe JJ hadn’t spoken to everyone, but hell, a barman got to meet most people, and he had yet to meet anyone who’d struck him as unpleasant. Leo Hart seemed like a fantastic guy. JJ watched how the club members spoke with the tall owner, and there was just so much respect and genuine liking for the man. There was no faking the way they looked at him.

  And as for Thomas Williams, JJ had thought him quite stern and standoffish—until the first time he’d seen him with his sub, Peter. God, talk about a man in love. It shone out of him. Once JJ had seen that side to Leo’s business partner, he’d watched Thomas with new eyes. He saw Thomas’s sense of humor, the caring manner he had with the submissives, who plainly looked up to him with admiration. And the way the Doms acted when Thomas was around…. Whenever he was on the main floor of the club, Thomas always had a good word to say about everyone, and the Doms looked like they’d burst with pride when he complimented them on a scene. Not to mention the way Peter looked at him, like he was the moon and stars.

  Peter….

  JJ shivered. He couldn’t drive that image from his mind—Peter’s usually calm features contorted with rage and hatred, so unlike him. That had been just one of the morning’s shocks, but it hadn’t been the worst, by any means.

  No, that had been hearing from Leo Hart’s lips that his father had committed suicide.

  JJ sat up and took his phone from his jeans pocket. He debated calling his mother but quickly dismissed the idea. He wanted to demand if she’d known, and if so, why she hadn’t thought to tell him. But what was the point? He doubted she’d tell him the truth. JJ genuinely believed she wouldn’t recognize the truth if it was biting her in the arse.

  He got up and grabbed his bag off the small table. A hole had begun to form in it, which meant he’d need to get a new one soon or risk losing everything he had in it. He reached inside and pulled out a couple of paperback books, then opened one of them and removed a tattered newspaper clipping. He gazed at the man in the picture and frowned.

  Was my life easier, simpler, when I didn’t know the truth? Even though I now know everything I’d grown up believing was a lie?

  Growing up without a dad had been hard enough, but some part of him had always been proud of the man he’d never known, the US soldier who’d whisked JJ’s mother off her feet in a whirlwind romance while he was stationed over in the UK. JJ had listened to his mum talk about their romantic affair that had ended so tragically when his dad had gone off to do a tour in the Gulf War, never to return.

  The handsome man in the photo, his father when he was in his twenties, stared back at him.

  JJ regarded him with a heavy heart. “When I was younger, I dreamed about you. I thought you were this amazing man who had singlehandedly saved his regiment. I wanted to meet you so badly.” Except of course, he was dead, according to Mum.

  Did I bring this on myself? Wanting to reach out to this American family I knew nothing about? Only for his mum to tell him they wanted nothing to do with him.

  More lies. Always more lies.

  He left the newspaper cutting on the bed and walked over to the little kitchenette to put the kettle on. Some tea sounded like a good idea. He filled the kettle, switched it on, and stood there, watching the water begin to bubble in the blue-lit side panel. In his head he could still see his mother’s face, the day he’d gone to her with the copy of his birth certificate, wanting to know why there was no father named on it. Except now he saw her expression for what it had been—not hurt that he’d gone behind her back to obtain it but anger that she’d been caught out in a lie.

  JJ gripped the edge of the worktop and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he whispered. Should he believe his mother, who told him that when she’d found herself pregnant after one night with Curtis Rogers, he’d offered to
pay for an abortion? And that he’d given her the money to do so? Or how about the lurid newspaper headlines that had painted a picture of Curtis as a sadistic monster, running a prostitution ring, a drug dealer, a murderer…. JJ didn’t want to believe that.

  The kettle clicked off, and JJ poured boiling water over the waiting tea bag. He knew why his thoughts were such a conflicted mess. He’d gotten an idea in his head from reading the trial transcripts and had decided to follow it up. He glanced at the photo lying on his bed.

  “I thought I knew. I figured those people at Collars & Cuffs had somehow done this to you. Turned you into some kind of scapegoat for whatever they’d been doing. I really believed that.”

  Until he’d met them.

  Do I believe what I see with my own eyes? Because what he was seeing didn’t fit his theory. Loving relationships. A whip wielded in love. A flogger in the hands of the submissive’s lover. Are the men at the club really what they seem, or is there something going on that I don’t know about? And why would Peter be so happy Curtis was dead? What happened between the two of them? The look on Peter’s face and the way everyone had seemed so shocked by his outburst, as though such a reaction was totally unlike him….

  Maybe it is. I don’t know him, do I?

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore!” he wailed. JJ growled at his own vacillation. He picked up the mug of steaming liquid and hurled it across the room, watching it slam against the wall and shatter, its contents running down in jagged paths.

  He sighed as the dark liquid pooled on the floor, adding yet another stain to the carpet. He’d have to try and clean it up at some point, but not right now. Instead he turned and got a different mug, dropped a fresh bag in, and poured more water over it. Then he stood and stared as the water and tea leaves blended together, while he thought about how he’d gotten to this point in his life.

  He’d gone into that club with such preconceived notions. After reading the transcripts, the witness statements, he’d expected to find depravity. To witness torture. To see cages, like the ones that had apparently been found in his father’s house. And sure, he’d seen guys on the receiving end of a whip, but he’d also seen aftercare. He’d gone there expecting to hate all those people. He’d marched in there, determined to prove that they were no different from his father. He’d had this bizarre idea that, once he’d achieved his goal, he could somehow prove his father innocent, prove that everything was just a fucking lie.