MOVEMENT OUTSIDE the bedroom caught Phillip’s attention as he came out of the dream that had gripped him so powerfully. At first, the events of the day before seemed far away, but the longer he was awake, the more intensely they came into focus.
“Barry,” he said as he gingerly put his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. His muscles protested, but there wasn’t any sharp pain, which was a huge relief.
Barry pushed the door open and peered inside. “I’m here. Do you need something to eat?”
“Something to drink, and maybe another painkiller if I still have one.” He held his breath as a wave of unsteadiness passed over him and then dissipated.
“I’ll bring you some water, but you can’t take any more medication for another hour.”
Barry left, and Phillip wrapped his arms around himself to try to ward off the cold that seemed to have been surrounding him the last few days. He had no idea what he could do or how he was going to get to the bottom of all this.
“Here’s some water, and I can make you a little breakfast if you’re hungry.”
He drank the water. “I’m not hungry. But thank you.” Phillip glanced at the clock by the bed. It was nearly eleven in the morning.
“Do you want some help getting dressed?” Barry asked. “I know about rib injuries. They’re painful, and the most innocent movement can hurt like hell.” He went the dresser. “Do you have any light sweatpants?”
“Third drawer.” Phillip sat still while Barry got him the pants as well as a T-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers.
“Just be careful.”
Phillip nodded and got the large T-shirt over his head. Just putting his arms up stretched his stiff muscles, and he hissed, but got his arms in. He pulled the shirt down and pushed away his boxers. They slid down his legs and he got them off, but Phillip couldn’t figure out how to get his fresh pair on without bending over. He set them on the floor, got his feet in the holes, and squatted down using his knees. He managed to pull them on, but damn, that was about the limit of what he could do without stabs of pain running through him.
“Barry,” he said and waited until he returned. “Thanks. I can’t get these on,” he said, pointing to his sweats.
Barry helped him with his pants, and Phillip tried not to concentrate too hard on where Barry touched him. “There you are.” He helped Phillip to his feet and out of the room to the sofa, which had a small pile of bedding at one end. Barry seemed to have found what he needed, which didn’t bother Phillip as much as he thought it would… to have someone he didn’t know all that well anymore in his home.
“I can’t believe you’re still here and taking care of me.” Phillip pulled the light blanket over him. “Why? And please don’t tell me you feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity right now.” He already felt depressed enough as it was.
“It has nothing to do with pity.” Barry sat down next to him. “You can get that out of your head right now.” He lifted his closed laptop off the coffee table and opened the lid. “I sent some messages after you went to bed to some various friends and contacts. I hope it’s okay, but I shared what the three accidents had in common with some buddies. I’ll admit, they were dubious at first, but one of my buddies, Ryan Millard, who’s like a brother to me, took a little more time and came up with some interesting stuff. I thought we could review what they sent. It isn’t a great deal, but it does tend to support our main theory. Ryan is going to see if he can get us some more detailed information… very off the record, of course.” He winked, and Phillip’s belly clenched.
“I don’t know if I really want to know.”
Barry shifted closer and took his hand. “You have to know. It’s the only way we can deal with it.”
He jumped at a knock on the door, and Phillip stilled. Barry got up and peered through the hole and then returned. “I don’t know who it is, but it’s a man and it isn’t the same one I saw last night. I’m sure of that.” Barry returned and opened the door, stepping back but still on high alert.
“Mark,” Phillip said as the other man came inside and rushed over to where Phillip sat on the sofa.
“What happened to you?” Mark sat next to him. “I was just dropping off a reminder for tomorrow, and you had asked me for my broccoli salad recipe. I made a copy and was going to put it under your door.” Mark took his hand, and Barry tensed as he closed the door.
“Barry, this is Mark. He and his husband are dear friends of mine. Mark is the artist who painted these for me.” Phillip tried to act like things were normal, but tension still washed over him. “Mark, this is Barry. He’s an old friend from college.”
Mark looked at Barry with his rigid stance and then turned to Phillip, then back to Barry. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Mark asked him. “He looks like he’s about to go off at any second, and you look terrible.” He put an arm around Phillip, drawing him closer, and Phillip tensed. Mark lifted Phillip’s T-shirt slightly. “What the hell?”
“I fell down the stairs at work and spent part of yesterday in the emergency room. Barry has been staying with me. God, Mark, it’s a long story, and I don’t even know where to begin. Barry is a friend, and whatever you’re thinking, he didn’t hurt me.” The spikes coming out of Mark’s eyes toward Barry were a definite clue to his thoughts. “I know that sounds like a story, but it’s true. I fell and had to call an ambulance.”
Mark released some of the tension from his posture. “I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” He patted Phillip’s hand. “You know we’re having our regular Friday night dinner at our house. You should both come.”
“You just want a chance to grill Barry.” Phillip smiled. “It isn’t going to work. He was a Marine, and I bet he can stand up to any level of interrogation, including our cooking.”
“Then I’m right—there is something going on.” Mark sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Mark,” Barry said as he came closer. “We don’t know yet. I think someone might be trying to hurt Phillip, but we don’t know why or who. He has a stalker, that much I’m pretty sure of, and it’s possible that someone slicked up the landing. Was it so Phillip would fall and hurt himself? I’m not sure. It could have been accidental.” Barry then clammed up, crossing his own arms and daring Mark with his gaze to pursue this. He was clearly not happy about telling Mark anything.
“Is Phillip safe?” Mark asked.
“He will be, if I have anything to do with it,” Barry pronounced, going into full-on Marine mode.
“We don’t know all that much, but something is going on. I can feel it.” Phillip sighed. “Please don’t go spreading this around to everyone. There’s just too much that we don’t know, and all of it could be just my imagination.” Suddenly he felt tired again and wrung out. He didn’t want to deal with this. Phillip had only ever wanted to spend his days developing his game systems and platforms, and his evenings with someone he loved and who loved him back.
Mark alternated his gaze between the two of them. “You’re really okay?”
Barry finally relaxed, and Phillip spoke. “Yes, I’m fine. Barry is being protective. He’s a good guy, if a little overzealous.” Phillip couldn’t say he was disappointed. The fact that Barry was willing to go to this extent to make sure Phillip was safe touched him deeply. “And he’s a great kisser.” Phillip had to tease him a little. The tension in the room was getting to be too much.
“I see. So now you pick your protectors by their kissing ability,” Mark said with a wink.
“I won’t let anything happen to him.” Barry’s arms released, and his stance became more normal. As a result, Mark relaxed as well, and Phillip felt a little less like he was going to have to mediate a war between them.
“Good. Because Phillip is a close friend to all of us.” Mark slowly stood. “I need to get back to the studio, but I’ll tell Tyler to expect one more at dinner.” He walked right by Barry and even patted him on the shoulder. “God, are you made of rocks or something?” He flexed his hand exaggeratedly.
“That’s me, Rockman,” Barry said, and thankfully he smiled.
“Then we’ll see you Friday for dinner.” He waved and left the loft. Phillip shook his head and leaned back. He hoped that Marty might call about joining them for dinner before Friday, but then again….
“God, I’m tired already.”
“That’s because you’re uncomfortable and you only slept because you’d taken painkillers. They never provide a good rest. Take it easy. I’ll make you something light to eat.”
“You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine. No one is going to get in here to try to kill me. This is a secure building.”
Barry scoffed. “Yeah, right. Your friend walked right up to your door, and you didn’t know he was coming. How secure is that?” He locked the door and stalked to the kitchen. “I’m not saying your friend had any bad intentions. Heck, he seemed pretty cool.”
“Mark has a code for the building. I live alone, and he and Tyler are like my brothers. They have a key to the loft.”
Barry pulled out bread, butter, milk, and eggs, and found a pan after searching in the cabinets.
“Who else has a key to your loft?” Barry asked as he got to work beating a couple of eggs in a bowl.
“Mark and Tyler have one, and there is one housed with security in the building, in case I get locked out. I have to call and give them a code, and then they’ll send someone down here with the key to let me in. It’s the same for everyone in the Brewery development. There are lots of empty nesters and older people in the building, and it’s one of the perks of living here. I’ve never used the service, but I’ve heard that a lot of people misplace their keys from time to time.”
“What about your parents?” Barry asked as he whisked some milk into the eggs and dipped slices of bread to make french toast. Phillip’s stomach rumbled at the thought.
“Do you cook a lot?” Phillip asked.
“Nice change of subject.” The pan sizzled a little as Barry put the first piece in and adjusted the flame.
“My mom and dad are gone. I was a late-in-life baby. Mom didn’t think she could get pregnant. She and Dad had tried for years, and the doctors said there was something wrong. So she had given up and thought she was going through the change of life. Only it was me. She was approaching fifty when she had me. The doctors said that it was very dangerous for her to be pregnant, but Mom told me that she was determined. She said I was a miracle and did everything she had to in order to see it through, including months of bed rest.” Phillip turned away and sniffed. “When she was seventy-two, her doctor found cancer, and she lasted only six months. Dad was heartbroken. He died of a heart attack two months later.” Losing them had been the hardest thing Phillip had ever gone through in his life. And in some ways, he wasn’t completely through it. Their loss was like an ache that wouldn’t go away.
“I’m sorry. My parents are still alive. They live in North Carolina. The winters here are too hard for them now. But they’ll be up to visit in the fall.” The implication hung between them. “Okay, then. No one else has a key.”
“Nope. This is my home, my sanctuary. One of my friends you’ll meet at dinner, Mary….” He wasn’t intending to give Barry a chance to say no. He wanted his friends to meet him. “She helped me plan and decorate the loft, and yet there is nothing of her in the space. She worked with me, so it was everything I wanted.”
“Okay.” Barry seemed amused as he slid the french toast onto a plate and brought it to the table. Phillip slowly got up, went to the place Barry had set for him, and sat down. Barry brought him some juice, butter, and syrup. Phillip was in heaven.
“Have you ever watched those design shows? They get these people to come into the house, and yeah, they do what the homeowner wants, but one designer always uses shiplap. It’s like her signature thing. But a good designer should step away from the job, and all that should be left is the client’s personality. Not theirs. Mary is able to do that.” Phillip took a bite and hummed softly. This was so good. “She decorated a log home last year that was stunning and nothing like this place at all. And she did a formal, regal apartment at the Cudahy Towers that was completely different from either one. Her own home is comfortable and livable, yet, again, very distinct. She likes to upcycle flea-market finds for her own home.”
Barry brought him another piece of french toast and brought a plate of three for himself, joining him at the table. “I’ve never watched design shows and I don’t know any designers, so I don’t have an opinion. I really like this space, though. The exposed yellow brick is awesome and warms up the space. And the big sofas and dark wood really make the place feel warm and cozy, even though it’s as big as a barn.” Barry took a huge bite.
“I wasn’t sure this was for me until Mary said I’d be a fool not to take it. And she was right.” Phillip let the conversation fall away as they ate. The food tasted amazing, and he felt better and less light-headed once he’d eaten.
Barry seemed to hoover up his breakfast. “Sorry,” he said, looking over his empty plate. “Sometimes we used to have five minutes to eat and then hit the field. I got so I could eat a complete steak dinner in that time.” He smiled, and Phillip took his hand. “Sometimes I forget that I’m not in the corps anymore.”
Phillip nodded and scratched the back of his head. “There were things you wanted to tell me? Some stuff you found out.”
“Yeah, but I figured you didn’t want to talk about it yet.” Barry took care of the dishes. “Why don’t you come and sit on the sofa. I can tell you what I found out, and we’ll see if it makes any sense.”
Phillip didn’t really want to talk about this, but he had no choice. Besides, Barry was right—he needed to know what was going on. Burying his head in the sand wasn’t going to help. He got up carefully and returned to the sofa with his glass of juice. Once he’d sat down, Barry got his laptop and sat next to him.
“I want to start by saying that there is a lot of supposition in what I’m about to tell you.”
Phillip swallowed hard. “This must be bad.”
Barry shrugged as he shook his head, sending a really confusing signal. “Sometimes we need to look at facts from a different angle. If we always look at things the same way, then we get nowhere.” He pulled open a spreadsheet and showed it to Phillip, who groaned. Great, a death spreadsheet. How thrilling.
“On the surface, all three of these deaths look like accidents, and they could be. But I have to say that would be quite a coincidence, given what you’ve told me. Either that or you turned into the cute geeky version of Meet Joe Black, and I somehow doubt that. So… like I said, they all look like accidents. Except… what if they aren’t?” Barry paused, and Phillip humphed softly. He really wanted to be wrong.
“Are we starting with Albert?” Phillip asked.
“Yeah. So he got drunk after he saw you and drove himself off the bluff and into the lake, which is quite a feat. Was Albert a huge drinker?”
Phillip tried to remember. “When we went out, he had a few cocktails, but then he switched to water and tea. He probably had a little more than I did, but he wasn’t sloppy and he seemed to know when to quit. Now, that doesn’t mean he didn’t go on a bender when he wasn’t being watched, but I don’t see that. That’s what started getting me suspicious.”
“The autopsy said he had some alcohol in his blood, but not a huge amount,” Barry explained. “That raised a red flag for me. But then, there was plenty in his stomach.”
“Could someone have killed him, forced booze down his throat, and then sent the car over the bluff and into the lake to cover it all up?” Phillip asked, and Barry nodded. “I get it. They weren’t looking for foul play because it looked like he’d had too much to drink….”
“Yup. So that’s Albert. The next is Winston, and he died in New York in a taxi accident. The other driver apparently drove away—a hit-and-run—but Winston and the cabdriver were killed and the car pushed off the road. They found the other cab abandoned a short distance away. Again, the authorities chalked it up to a drunk driver, though no one can explain where the driver went. The case is still open, but there isn’t much hope it will be solved now.” Barry’s frustration mirrored his own.
Phillip felt like crap and was almost afraid to hear any more.
“Then there’s our friend Roger, and we both know he was a brittle diabetic and had other health issues. They didn’t find anything in his blood other than what he’d been taking. But what if someone messed with his meds? He took a number of pills, so what if this person made it so that his blood sugar would bottom out to an unrecoverable level? The autopsy explanation is that he seemed to have mixed up some pills. They attributed it to an accident.”
Phillip nodded. “They all could be accidental. You know that.”
“Yes. Or someone could be behind them all, making them happen. You know that you have a stalker.” Barry stopped when Phillip sighed. “Okay, I believe that you have a stalker. What if that person is the same one who’s making these things happen?”
“Why? To get to me? To make me afraid to date? Why would anyone do this? I’m no great catch.”
Barry shifted closer. “I don’t know if that’s true. You’re successful and you’ve made quite a bit of money. That could be reason enough.”
Phillip shifted away. “Is that why you’re here?”
Barry’s eyes grew dark, and his lips drew to a straight line. “Is that what you think of me? Have I asked you for anything? Did I…?” He sputtered, and Phillip knew he had hit a nerve. He hadn’t meant to. He was well aware that he had plenty of money and that people might use him for what he could do for them.
“No. And I don’t think that, not really. But you brought it up, and my head went to this weird place.” The truth was that Phillip was having difficulty figuring out why Barry was here and doing this for him. Sure, he’d said that he’d liked him in college, and they’d had a couple of really fun evenings, but that wasn’t enough for someone to step in and protect him from whatever was going on.
“Well, for the record, I’m not interested in your money. I like you, okay? And I don’t want to see you hurt.” Barry’s gaze was still as hard as stone.
Phillip nodded. “But are you sure this isn’t some pity thing? I mean, I know it’s probably part of being a Marine, but you….” God, what was he saying?
“Is that what you want? For me to take pity on you? Is that your way of telling me that you aren’t interested in me?” Barry actually seemed a little hurt, and that was the last thing Phillip wanted. Hell, the man was huge, and yet under all that muscular plating was a gentle, caring, maybe even vulnerable soul. That thought had never occurred to him until now.
“God, I’m putting my foot in it.” Phillip huffed. “I’m just saying that you could have any guy you want. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? The last time we went out, everyone in the restaurant followed you with their eyes.” He lowered his gaze. “I mean, come on, look at me. I’m the original ninety-pound weakling and I’m okay with that.” What in the hell was he trying to do, get Barry to leave him? Because if that was his aim, he was doing a good job of unselling himself.
“Yeah, okay, so you’re a little insecure.” Barry swished his hand as though it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. “Most of us are in one way or another. I bet you’re a bulldog in the boardroom.” Barry shifted next to him. “Now, that would be a sight to see. You tearing the competition into little shreds in order to get what you want.” His voice resonated, and Phillip quivered with the vibrations.
“Are you trying to get frisky?” Phillip asked.
Barry laughed out loud. “Frisky? Seriously. Have you been watching too many Happy Days reruns or something?”
“I could ask if you were trying to get busy. But it didn’t sound as cute. Maybe I should just give up on cute where you’re concerned.”
Barry wrapped his arm around Phillip’s shoulders and leaned closer. “Don’t you dare. I like my guys cute, and, apparently, kind of geeky.” His breath ghosted over Phillip’s neck. “I think it’s my kink.”
Phillip swallowed hard and tried not to let his imagination run away with him. After all, they had just been talking about the other guys he’d dated and what had happened to them. And there was also the fact that his ribs were in no shape for any sort of physical activity.
Barry didn’t back away, though, and his heat seared through the clothes Phillip was wearing, right to his skin. His heart beat faster as Barry’s intensely masculine scent surrounded him. “You know, if we were careful…,” Barry whispered, and Phillip groaned, his throat going dry in an instant.
“Are you trying to kill me? Wait. Bad question. Are you trying to make my ribs ache? Because other parts of me already do, and it isn’t fair, because—” Phillip stopped talking as Barry ran his thumb over his lower lip.
“I love this curve right here. It’s—” He leaned closer and kissed him, gently at first and then more intensely, the energy between them building. Phillip was instantly hard, and his hips rocked slightly, but his ribs protested. Barry seemed to understand and gently guided him back down onto the cushions. “Damn, you look sexy like that.”
“What, in pain?” Phillip said with a wicked smile.
“No. Laid out where I can see you.” Barry tugged the tail of Phillip’s shirt out of his pants and slipped his hand under it, lightly stroking his belly. “Damn, you are as soft and smooth as I thought you’d be.” He didn’t stop, and Phillip closed his eyes, whimpering as Barry ran his fingers over his chest, lightly tweaking a nipple before moving on.
“Now you’re just being mean.” He gritted his teeth and groaned softly. “I really can’t do anything you want, what you make me want. The spirit is really willing, but the body is saying ‘no way in hell.’” He was seconds away from chucking it to the wind when Barry nodded and slowly withdrew his hand.
“Waiting is better. Then I can have all of you.” Barry’s eyes burned, and his voice grated in the most wonderful way. No one had ever seemed to really want him… for him… this way. And Phillip suddenly knew what he had been missing. Not that the guys he’d gone out with hadn’t been nice and good men, but none of them had made him want to jump into their laps, leaving all of his clothes behind, and offer himself like a buffet, inhibitions be damned.
“Barry….” He could only muster little more than a whisper. “And to think, we’ve only had breakfast.” What the hell was he going to do for the rest of that day?