Metal on my fingers
Whiskey on my mind
Singing a tune to my baby
Wasting none of my time
Flip the record on that turntable
Pull the rug from the middle of the floor
Gonna spend the night with my baby
Send my blues out through that door
—Keeping Back The Blues
“IT’LL BE about another half an hour, Mr. St. John. Traffic’s a bit tight today.” The burly bald security guy Sionn assigned to him glanced over his shoulder at Miki sitting in the back seat of the glossy black sedan. “I should have you home soon enough.”
Miki couldn’t remember the man’s name. He couldn’t remember any of their names, and the thought of having to dredge them up from his body memory stressed him out. He’d already called one of them Dave, only to be told there wasn’t a Dave on the security detail, and he’d spent the rest of the day huddled in his bedroom, wrapped around the guitar in the hopes of finding stray notes to play. Much like the team’s names, his mind wasn’t giving up anything other than white noise, much less the genesis of a song.
He’d argued for a visit to Edie, refusing to budge when Sionn suggested he hold off for another day. As expansive as the warehouse was, its walls were slowly moving inward, stiffening the air and throttling Miki’s mind. He hated having Damien’s lover as a gatekeeper. The normally affable Sionn had morphed into a stern taskmaster, throwing blockades into Miki’s routine. He understood the Irish man’s reasoning, but he didn’t have to like it. The rambles he’d take every morning with Dude were now short peeks into an alleyway with barely enough time for the dog to go to the bathroom. The terrier didn’t seem to mind, but the ache was growing in Miki’s knee and thighs, a constant reminder he wasn’t stretching out the old injury with his customary long walks.
And there was the incessant presence of someone near him every time he turned around.
If there was one thing Miki knew he failed at, it was being human. Not in the way that Quinn fought with. Or least he didn’t think so. It was more that he really had no idea how to interact with anyone who didn’t know him. He could wear a mask for short periods of time, a social construct that let him say hello or begin a conversation centered on the food choice or what kind of coffee he wanted that morning, but beyond that, he was often left adrift. Having a phalanx of dark-suited men shadowing his every move didn’t just make him uneasy, it was slowly driving him insane with the need to interact every second of the day.
He must have missed yet another social cue, because the driver kept making eye contact with him in the rearview mirror, as if waiting for Miki to say something. A smile seemed to be all the man needed, because as soon as Miki stretched his lips back, the man nodded pleasantly and returned his gaze to the road.
The late afternoon sun gilded Chinatown’s busy streets, turning dross into gold. He found something comforting about the chaos, a spangled, multicolored storm of signs and noise. He knew its streets like the back of his hand, and like his knife-scarred and guitar string–pocked skin, the streets were beaded with age and violence. The district’s buildings wore a hard elegance, a spackle of Asian influence over sturdy New England bones. The Chinese influence over the area was draped on with its hanzi signs and pagoda streetlamps. The scent of dark teas flavored the air along with the coppery sting of boiled water and slightly off greens. It was a smell he’d missed when the band was out on the road, a nostalgic perfume he woke up to every morning alongside the hard, warm length of his lover. The driver gave him a warning look when he cracked open the car window, but Miki ignored him. He needed to drown out the new world he was living in with a wash of the familiar.
The tinted windows made it impossible for anyone to see into the car, but Miki felt everyone’s eyes on him. Or that sensation could have just been the result of being handed off from person to person nearly every waking hour of the day.
“I am going to take a turn down here to the right,” the driver said. “Maybe we can get clear of some of the crowd and I can get you home sooner.”
This time, Miki remembered to nod and smile before the man looked away.
It was a road they’d taken too many times for Miki to count, but each slow cruise over the weather-beaten blacktop was a trip down memory lane. This time, Miki needed more than a glimpse. He was so lost, and something broken cried out inside of him.
“Stop the car.” Miki slapped at the seat in front of him. “I need to get out over there.”
“I can’t do that, Mr. St. John,” the driver replied with a shake of his head. “I have my orders.”
He was tired of being pushed around and boxed in. Slamming the leather seat stung Miki’s hand, but the hard slap woke something up inside of him.
“I swear to God, if you do not stop this car, I’m just going to jump out. And if you lock the doors, I am going to break the fucking window.” The traffic was slow enough they were inching down the street, and a thin crowd wandered across the sidewalks, drawn to the beacon of a row of crimson and white signs advertising fine jewelry at low prices. The brick buildings never seemed to change, only slapped with another coat of bright, cheap paint that quickly dulled under San Francisco’s relentless weather. “I’m serious. Stop the car. I need to get out. Over there by the noodle factory.”
The driver—Dan, Miki remembered—visibly debated his options, his placid features twisted by the two sides of a silent argument going on in his head. He edged the sedan to the right side of the road, cutting off a minivan filled with children driven by a harassed-looking older Chinese woman. They were a few feet short of the alley, but luck was with them as a parking space opened up, and his security detail slid into the spot. Throwing the car into Park, Dan locked the doors quickly, then turned around to face a fuming Miki. The professional demeanor on the man’s stoic face had been replaced by something more human, more raw, and he turned, looping his arm across the back of the bucket seat.
“Look, when I first got this job, I figured I was going to be babysitting some spoiled rock star who would spend most of his time drunk and passed out on the couch. You seem to be going through some shit, and while I don’t know what it is fully, it seems to be more than just some random asshole trying to hurt you.” Dan leaned across the seat, the fabric of his suit jacket catching on the leather, exposing the thick gold watch around his wrist. “Up until right now, you’ve been an easy job. So, I am going to ask you to be honest with me about getting out of this car. If it’s something that you have to do, you’re going to have to do it on my terms. I need to know where you’re going to go, because I’m going to need to cover you. So what exactly are you going to do?”
The man was a stranger, asking Miki to bare his soul and rip open his secrets to be rifled through. He paused, wondering if the mewling want crying out inside of him truly needed to be succored or if he could just go home and pretend the emptiness inside of him didn’t exist. He looked away, losing himself in the kaleidoscope patterns of people walking by. It was easier to talk to the translucent reflection of his face staring back at him from the darkened windows.
“That alleyway over there is where it all started. Where I started.” Miki bit his lip, unsure how to unravel the Möbius strip of his confusion. “I need to be there for a moment. I’ve got to find where I began because, right now, I have no fucking clue where I’m going.”
Dan studied him for a while; then, with a flick of his fingers, the doors were unlocked. Nodding toward the alley, he said, “Letting you go down there is risky. There’s too many doors leading to places I can’t secure, but if I don’t let you do this, you’re going to find a way to get down here without one of us to cover you. Am I right in that?”
Miki smirked, curling his lip as he answered. “Nobody lets me do anything. So yeah, you’re right. One way or another, I’m going to be walking down that alleyway.”
“That’s what I thought.” Dan sighed. “I’m going to stand at the mouth of the alley, and you go do your thing. But if there is any sign of trouble, I need you to promise that you’ll listen to me when I yank you back to the car.”
It was a compromise Miki could live with, and he nodded, reaching for the car door’s handle.
“Don’t make me regret this, St. John.” Dan undid his seat belt, then opened the door to get out. “I’ve got a husband and kids to go home to tonight, and I really need this job. So if you fuck this up and I go down—”
“I’ll take care of you,” Miki vowed. “And if it’s any consolation, Sionn knows how I am. I’d bet money he wouldn’t fire you if something goes wrong. He’d just pat you on the back and buy you a bottle of whiskey to apologize.”
THE SHADOWS were the same even though the colors were different. The wall he’d leaned against while eating his cobbled-together meals of customers’ leftovers and slightly burnt castoffs was now a light blue, and the fire escape gleamed a glossy black, a far cry from the peeling cream paint he’d picked out of his palms every other night after his shift. His fingers ached with the memory of washing dishes and his shoulders twinged at the thought of busing tables, but there’d been a simplicity in his life then. Newly freed of Vega and Shing, Miki lived surreptitiously, always keeping one eye open in case his monsters came looking for him.
His sneakers squeaked over the damp cobblestones as he walked toward the restaurant’s back door. It didn’t take much for him—for his mind—to go back to the day when a British-accented voice jerked him out of the song he was belting out. The alley had been a secret paradise for him, and he’d been annoyed at Damien’s intrusion.
“What if I’d never met him?” Miki wondered, turning around to drink in the alley around him. “How fucking lost would I be then?”
He could pinpoint the momentous moments in his life, shards of time piercing the ribbon the Fates wove for him. He didn’t remember being found on St. John Street, but he knew the park at the corner and the run of houses on the short road. There’d been pictures he’d seen, taken on that day, but he’d never wondered how he’d gotten there. Not until a now-dead woman scraped open a scab he didn’t know he had.
“I didn’t want these questions,” he muttered, scrubbing at the ache forming behind his eyes.
His knuckles dug in, scraping at his cheeks, and when he let his hands fall away from his face, he was left staring through a smear of stars and watery confusion. He didn’t know who he was speaking to—maybe the ghost of himself sitting on the fire escape above him—but the alley was empty of people and it seemed like a safe place to rifle through the conflicts growing inside of him. With Dan standing guard by the sidewalk, it seemed as if Miki had the world to himself once again.
“Did you want to throw me away?” He stared up at the sky, caught up in the unknown of his life. “I never needed a mother. Hell, I always figured you would be worse than Vega—worse than Shing—but now I don’t know. It was so much fucking easier to leave you in the goddamned box I put you in. Why the hell did you have to crawl back out?”
The tears stinging his eyes seemed to be made of molten razor blades. They sliced through his vision, ripping apart the alley, leaving Miki to stand in the ruins of the carefully constructed lies he’d wrapped around his birth. He didn’t know what to do with the half truths unfolding before him. They were origami traps, glittering unicorns and cranes armed with sharp teeth, poised to sink into his flesh and soul if he got too close.
He didn’t want to get any closer, but he didn’t have any choice. The universe was going to unravel his life whether he wanted it to or not. Denying his mother had been so easy when she was nothing more than a shadow, but her name now lingered on the edges of his knowledge, and her face lay somewhere in a box, captured in photos and perhaps even a letter.
Pretty soon, everything he never wanted to know was going to come crashing down on him.
“I already have parents.” Miki threw the words to the sky, whispering a protest to the fluffy river of clouds dotting the endless blue. “I have Donal, God fucking damn it. I found him. When Kane fell in love with me, I found Donal. He’ll catch me when I fall. He fucking promised that and he has never let me down.
“And Brigid.” He sniffed, blinking away the smear along his lashes. “I didn’t want her. She fucking scares me because she is everything I am but turned inside out. She’s stronger than I am. I can’t fight for the people I love. Not like she does. I’m too fucking scared all the time and she’s not. I wish I could be more like her. I could defend the fuck out of myself, but she’s the first one to step up to defend me—to defend the rest of her kids. How the hell are you going to compete with Brigid? When you had me and you couldn’t even hold on to me? Or did you even fucking try?”
“St. John? You doing okay?” Dan’s voice broke through the darkness rising from Miki’s thoughts, shattering the spiral that threatened to pull him in. “I’ve got to get you in the car soon. I can give you another five if you need it.”
“No. I’m good.” Miki wiped at his face, then took one last glimpse at the newly painted fire escape. He glanced up at the sky, the irony of a bright sunny day spreading over the city as he fought a maelstrom of despair. Dropping his voice to a whisper, Miki shoved back at the clouds in his head. “I’m not going to let your ghost take away everyone I love. I can’t guess what knowing your name or seeing your face is going to do to my head, but Kane seems to think it’s—you—are important. Maybe it’s because everything he is connects to his family, connects to his blood and that green fucking rock he was born on, but I have to trust that he knows what’s best for me in this.
“So yeah, I’ll find out who you are, but that’s not going to change who I am. I’m not letting you do that to me. If you’d wanted it to shape who I’d become, you should have been here from the beginning. And maybe I’m not being fair. Maybe you couldn’t hold on to me, but I needed you to.” He took another sniff, hating that he couldn’t breathe through his pain and grief. “The things people have done to me, I can’t even talk about. But I have to, because I feel so fucking small inside. And I’m scared to love. I’m scared to death of losing who I love because am I even worth it? Or is it all a lie like you are? I can’t hope that you loved me. I can’t risk that, because if I do, and you didn’t, you are going to tear me apart and there’s nothing Donal and Brigid would be able to do to stop you. God, I really wish you would have just stayed in that fucking box, Mom.”
THE MUSIC hit nearly as soon as Miki came through the front door. It was elusive, a whistling thread of something he couldn’t quite grab at, but when he did, it was a fiberglass froth, cutting open his mind and leaving him with minute bleeding wounds. He was going to lose it. It was already a whisper but for brief sparkling flashes, and he could feel the pain inside his heart.
He welcomed the pain.
Torn between needing to grab at what his mind spooled out and calling Kane, he reached for one of his notebooks and a pencil, only stopping long enough to snag a bottle of sparkling water and a treat for Dude. The dog was happy to see him, winding about his ankles and nearly tripping Miki when he crossed the living room to the couch.
The words poured out of him and onto the page, a tornado he couldn’t hold in and could only snag the end of it before it whirled out of control, skipping away from his grasp. Too many thoughts crowding in on him, yet they whispered away as soon as he focused on one, a seductive tease of ideas and song hidden behind oblique stammers and notes.
Miki didn’t hear Kane come in. The sun had fled before the night’s hard grip, and he hadn’t noticed the light easing from the room until a golden flare erupted next to him. His breath caught on a phrase lodged in his throat and Miki coughed, startled at the taste of his own tongue.
“You’re going to go blind doing that in the dark, a ghra,” Kane warned. His lips were forceful, demanding a deep kiss from Miki’s mouth, and he leaned his head back, silently begging Kane to take more.
Kane gave him what he wanted—or maybe took what Miki needed to give. Either way, he was left breathless and needy, his cock heavy and aching. Kane tasted of coffee and something deliciously spicy, a tang of heat on his tongue.
Pulling back, Miki eyed Kane suspiciously. “Did you get kim chi wings? I can taste them on you.”
“Yeah, and I’m not going to be apologizing for it.” Kane’s mischievous grin earned him a quick pinch of his left nipple. He gave a playful yelp and rubbed the injured spot but didn’t pull away. “We had a meeting down there. Would’ve seemed rude not to eat something since I was on the clock and could only have coffee.”
“Did you bring any home?” His stomach wasn’t quite ready for food, but Miki was never one to turn down a meal.
“No. It wouldn’t have kept. Besides, I had Connor and Kel with me, so we didn’t go chasing down a rabbit hole, and you know they don’t leave leftovers. Sionn should feel lucky there’s still a pattern on the plates.” Kane tapped the dog’s rear leg, urging the canine off the couch. “Move, Dude.”
Dude gave Kane a weary, beleaguered look but shuffled off the cushion in an exaggerated slither. Kane came around the front, shedding his jacket as he walked. His holster was already empty, the weapon stashed in the gun safe by the front door, but he hadn’t unbuckled the leather straps crisscrossing his broad torso, so Miki reached up and hooked his finger into one, tugging Kane closer. His cop half kneeled on the sectional, his weight tipping Miki toward him, but it wasn’t enough of an angle to topple Miki over.
“Well, even with no food, glad you’re here. I didn’t think you were going to be home just yet,” Miki murmured, his fingers still wrapped around the rig’s strap. “Not that I’m complaining. Are you still hungry? There might be something to eat in the fridge.”
“No, Finnegan’s wasn’t that long ago,” Kane refused. There was something in his storm-blue eyes, a fold of darkness Miki knew he should dig at, because that’s what lovers did: ferreted out the shadows their other halves picked up along the day. “It really was about the shooting, for the most part. I told you we were going to try to see if the task force had anything for us, but we had punted over to the DEA. Luckily, Alex could hook up with us. He had a lot of good insight and some solid information. I’ve got a lot more to go on now. You remember Alex, right?”
“Your agent friend. The one who got hurt, no?” Miki cocked his head back, welcoming a gentle brush of Kane’s mouth on his again. “How long do you have? If you didn’t come home to eat, then I can think of other things we can do.”
“Actually, I wanted to come home and talk to you about the case.” Kane’s serious words were a deluge of ice water on Miki’s arousal. “I’ve got a little bit of news. Actually, I have a lot of news.”
“Jesus, you were only gone a few hours. How much could’ve happened?” Miki protested, then remembered how his own life had been altered in quick slams of time barely a blink long. “Forget that. Probably the stupidest thing I’ve said in a long time. Shit happens fast sometimes. I get that. It is usually when you’ve got a case that seems to last forever.”
“Sometimes they do,” Kane admitted. “This one is moving slower than I’d like it to, but today I think a lot broke open for us. There’s a few things you need to know, and I want to remind you that no matter what, I’m at your side. Okay?”
“I know.” Despite his apprehension, a warmth spread through Miki’s gut. “You love me. You’ve promised never to let go of me. I believe you. I do, you know? It’s just hard sometimes because—”
“Being alone is a hard habit to break,” he cut in. “But I’m willing to stick by you for a lifetime until you do.”
Kane sat down next to him, angling his body to face Miki. He looked like he needed to have his hands on Miki as much as Miki needed to feel Kane’s strength beneath his fingertips. He’d taken to running his palms along Kane’s sides, tracing the muscles rippling over his lover’s belly and down his hips. It was enough just to touch Kane, to know that he was there in front of him instead of a ghost of his memories. Still, Miki glanced back toward the double doors of their bedroom; he wouldn’t have said no to dirtying the clean sheets he’d put on the mattress that morning.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. I just want to talk to you before I have to head back out.” Kane’s smile was in his tone as much as it was plastered over his handsome face. The somber returned, but the light in his gaze remained. “The captain just told me the DA is going to release copies of what was in the packet Chaiprasit gave Edie. There’s enough evidence to prove it’s connected to her murder, so I’ll be formally including it in my case files, but the contents more than likely won’t incriminate anyone, so it can be shared with you and Edie. Da and Book pulled in a few favors for this, but you might want to know the truth about your mother before you see that therapist you talked to.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that. What good is that going to do?” The knots returned to Miki’s stomach, churning up the sick he’d tamped down. “Fuck, I don’t know if I’m ready to even see her face.”
He wasn’t ready for the truth. Miki actually couldn’t find any reference point to hold on to besides an unsettling fear. It was curious to be terrorized by a photo or a name, but there he sat, trembling with the reality of knowing where he’d come from finally sinking in.
“When? I mean, when are we… fuck, Kane, I don’t know what to even think.” He leaned into Kane’s chest, his rattled nerves calming when he felt his lover’s breath on his face.
“You don’t have to think anything, Mick. It’s up to you when you open up that Pandora’s box.” Kane tangled their fingers together, squeezing lightly. “I am going to have to go through that packet and look at it as evidence. So I’m probably going to know about her—about your mother—before you do. But I’m not going to bring her up until you’re ready. Okay?”
“Okay,” Miki mumbled. He was grateful for Kane’s touch, drawing on his lover’s steady strength to shore himself up.
“Now here comes the hard part,” Kane started.
“Jesus, these past couple of weeks almost killed me and you’re only now getting to the hard part?” Miki scoffed. “What the fuck else can there be?”
“In the course of this investigation, we might… hell, we’re going through a lot of information about people involved with Wong back when your mother worked for him.” Kane took a breath, then clasped Miki’s hands tightly. “There’s a slim chance that we might find out who your father is. Alex suggested I don’t bring that up to you because it could come to nothing, but I wanted to prepare you, just in case that happens. I want you prepared for that.”
Kane might have said more, but Miki couldn’t hear him. The noise of his mind crashing drowned out everything around him, and the numbness he’d fought off was back. It took him a moment to realize he’d stopped breathing, drawing in a sucking breath only when his lungs began to pound and ache.
Then the enormity of Kane’s words struck him, and he stammered out, “But how? I mean, you don’t know for sure about just how? The woman—Sandy—she was a whore for Wong, right? And she knew my mother—probably worked with my mother—how the hell would anyone know?”
“Babe, it’s a possibility. I just wanted to let you know there was a possibility and that we’ll cross that bridge together when we get there, okay?” Kane’s phone buzzed, a harbinger song Miki knew all too well. Someone had died and hadn’t died well. It was a chiming toll of a potential murder, the ringing of a bell that would pull Kane from him.
Kane didn’t so much as glance at the phone he’d left on the chest in the middle of the room.
“You’ve got to go. Someone needs you now. A hell of a lot more than I do, because I’m still here and they’re not,” Miki murmured, jerking his chin toward the phone. “And before you ask, I’m going to be okay. Just… come home to me tonight. I’ll be waiting up. I just need to hold you before I go to sleep.”
There was a tenderness to Kane’s kiss that Miki wasn’t sure he’d ever felt. It was a bloom of affection, a delicate, tentative exploration of Miki’s mouth. Everything that they’d been—that they’d done together—never, ever strayed into delicate, but in that moment, Kane’s kiss was a stroke of a soft feather on his rattled soul.
He could have taken anything—survived anything—and had, but Kane’s fucking kiss broke him.
“I’ll be back home before you know it, a ghra,” Kane promised, then pressed his mouth to the corners of Miki’s closed eyes. “And if you should need me before then, call. You mean more to me than my badge and the dead. I love you. And if I have to, I would give up everything I’ve become—everything I’ve accomplished—just to hold you if you need me.”