If You're Going Through Hell Keep Going Page 6

  “I really was an asshole about this whole thing, wasn't I?” He sighed, finally winding down.

  “That's beside the point. I don't need my boy in a state like this because he has to worry about you.” I knew about Theo’s background, about how his father had tossed him out for being gay, so I understood why he’d been willing to believe Matheson had screwed around while he’d been out of town. Theo really should have known better, though, since it was obvious to anyone with half an eye that Matheson was crazy about him.

  “So… uh… what do you say?”

  “About…?”

  “Geez, Vince, about Wills staying home tomorrow.”

  “Tell him he can have the day off. No, wait a second, tomorrow is Friday, and I need him to—” Ah, what the fuck. I'd delegate. “Tell him he has the whole weekend off. I'll have his secretary reschedule any meetings that are on his calendar.”

  I looked up, and my mouth went dry. Quinn stood in the doorway, wearing an apron over his shorts and a smile. The dusting of hair that fanned out over his chest and then arrowed down past his waistband begged for my fingers to run through it. I licked my lips.

  “I've gotta go, Theo. Some of us do have... things to do, y’know. Take it easy." Without waiting for another word from him, I disconnected the call and placed my phone on the night table.

  “Lunch is ready, Mark.” There was a smudge of white on Quinn’s cheekbone. Flour?

  “I was pretty sure the cupboards were bare.” I reached for my undershirt and tugged it over my head. Having a fire in the fireplace was all well and good, but if we were going to hang around half naked, I’d need to turn up the heat.

  “Not quite. Try this.” He held a slice of toast to my mouth, and I took a bite.

  I chuckled, covering my mouth to avoid spraying crumbs on him. It was peanut butter and orange marmalade, and it wasn’t half bad.

  “You like?”

  “Yeah, I like.”

  “I’m glad. Alyona would make it as a treat for me.”

  “Y’know, I’d like to meet her one day.” She was Novotny’s sister, but I didn’t hold that against her.

  “I’ll take you up to New York one day and introduce you.” He suddenly looked sad. “It will have to be soon. She’s getting on in years.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “So this is what we’re going to eat?”

  “No. I found a box of Aunt Jemima. I hope you don’t mind. We’re having waffles for lunch.”

  “Works for me.” I licked my fingers clean of the orange marmalade, picked up his shirt, and put it around his shoulders.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked as he slid his arms into the sleeves and we walked to the breakfast nook. “The phone call?”

  “Yeah. A friend of mine… you remember my former landlord?”

  “Yes, I met him on New Year’s Eve, I believe.”

  “Right. Well, he had a little mix-up with his boyfriend, and he left him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

  “Long story short, it had something to do with flowers and a wrong card. They’re back together, though.”

  “Mark. If I sent you flowers—” He looked concerned. God, he was cute. I leaned in and brushed a kiss over his lips.

  “I had the same thought.”

  “You did?”

  “Don’t worry, babe. It would take a hell of a lot more than the wrong card for me to walk away from you.”

  “I’m glad.” He linked his fingers with mine and tugged me after him.

  The table in the nook was set with placemats, freshly brewed coffee that was from freshly ground beans, and two plates piled high with waffles. In the center of the table were the butter dish and a couple of little jugs of maple syrup that I knew he’d warmed in the microwave.

  “We’ll need to get quite a bit of shopping done.” Quinn made himself comfortable. “We can go after we eat if you like.”

  “It can wait until Saturday. Spending today with you in bed is a better idea. And since tomorrow’s Friday, I’ll meet you at Raphael’s for dinner.”

  “Yes, but what about dinner tonight?”

  “We’ll order in. What are you in the mood for? Thai? Chinese? Portuguese?”

  “Let me give it some thought.” He used the side of his fork to cut his waffles and took a bite, washing it down with a swallow of his coffee. “But what will you do about breakfast tomorrow? I used the last of your eggs for this.”

  I reached across the table and cupped his cheek. “I’ll pick up an Egg McMuffin on my way to work.”

  “Your arteries, Iago! Your arteries!”

  I burst out laughing. “Y’know something, babe? I’m really glad you realized it was me and not Skip Patterson who interviewed your mother.”

  “You said that before.”

  “Yeah, I did. It bears repeating.” I was startled when his chair scraped back and he got to his feet. “Quinn?”

  He pushed the table away to make enough room so he could straddle my lap, then ran his fingers through my hair and drew my mouth to his for a kiss. He paused, millimeters from my lips. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  “But the waffles….”

  “We can nuke them.”

  “They’ll be soggy,” I informed him unctuously.

  “Then we’ll toast them.”

  “No, we can’t, there’s syrup on them.”

  “Seriously, Mark? Are you going to give me a hard time about waffles? All right, we’ll warm them in the oven. Wait, what are you doing?”

  My hands were busy behind his back, untying the apron. I threw it aside, got both our cocks out of our shorts, smeared my palm with butter, and began jerking us off.

  “Oh!” He leaned his forehead against mine, shivering and trying to catch his breath. “I see.”

  “I knew you would.” I tipped his head back and kissed him….

  Some of the best eighteen hours I’d ever spent.

  Chapter 6

  Yeah. Some of the best eighteen hours, and then everything went south late the next afternoon. The plan had been to drive home to shower, change, and meet Quinn at Raphael’s, and then he’d follow me back to my condo and spend the weekend.

  Only that son of a bitch Davies called my office.

  “Is that boy of yours in?”

  I scowled at the phone. “Why do you care?”

  “You’re going to want to see this, Vincent.”

  “See what?”

  “A videotape. Your boy is in deep shit.” And he sounded as if that really made his day.

  “Why would I…” I remembered The Boss’s instructions, and toned down my language. “… believe a word you say?”

  “Because I’m a director, and keep in mind I’m senior to you!” Did he realize I didn’t care two shits? “And I have rock solid proof this time!”

  What was it about Matheson that got under Davies’s skin? Last year he’d been behind that thing with Matheson’s secretary, and then he’d tried to nail Matheson for the disappearance of a contractor who’d been subbed out to the Huntingdon Phoenix project. Yeah, my agent was responsible—he was following my orders, but Davies had no proof. In spite of that, he’d tried to coerce Matheson into confessing.

  I’d been pleased Matheson hadn’t cracked.

  “I’m sending something to your office. I think you’ll find it very interesting. And if after seeing this tape you don’t decide to get rid of Matheson….” God, did I detest the gloating tone in his voice. “However I think you will.”

  “What’s on it?” I asked suspiciously.

  “You’ll see.”

  Again I recalled The Boss telling me I couldn’t give Davies a hard time. “I’ll take a look at it, but this had better be worth my while.”

  “Oh, it will be!”

  Knowing him, I wasn’t willing to bet the ranch on it. I hung up and waited to see what had gotten him so excited.

  The intercom buzzed. “Bancroft is here to see you, sir.”

  “Send h
im in.” Bancroft was Davies’s personal assistant. Had he been on his way down even as Davies was bending my ear?

  The door opened and Bancroft walked in. At his elbow was Dev Howard.

  “Did you need to see me, Howard?”

  “No, sir. I… er… was just passing by.”

  “And you felt like paying a visit?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you did say you wanted to talk to me about Miss Smith. Miss Jones?”

  “Yeah, it’s confusing, isn’t it? You’re scheduled to see me on Monday. We’ll talk about it then.” I observed him intently, waiting to see if he had anything to add to the conversation, but he just nodded and kept his mouth shut. I turned my attention to Bancroft. “You have something for me?”

  “Yes, sir.” He handed me a black videotape case.

  I opened it. The tape inside wasn’t labeled. “Do you know what’s on this?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Okay. I’ll watch it later. Now—”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Vincent, but Mr. Davies insists you watch it immediately.” Bancroft fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other and worrying the cuticles of his left hand with his left thumbnail, until finally Howard put a hand on his shoulder.

  Jesus. Was Howard that protective of his boyfriend? What the fuck did he think I was going to do to Bancroft?

  Shaking my head, I rose and went to the TV/VCR combo; most directors and deputy directors had them in their offices. I’d never found the need to use it before this week, but maybe the others had.

  I turned on the TV, slipped the tape into the slot, and folded my arms across my chest, waiting for the tracking to straighten out.

  The quality wasn’t the best, and the sound was even worse. Maybe that was the reason why I was unable to place the voice of the boy on the tape, in spite of how familiar it sounded.

  “Porn?” I snarled at Bancroft as I stopped the tape and shut off the television, and he turned pale. “Davies thinks I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than to watch porn? And bad amateur porn at that? Out! Get the fuck out, now!”

  “Er… Mr. Vincent, what am I to tell Mr. Davies?”

  “Tell him this is—” Goddammit, if I had to keep a lid on everything I said to Davies, I was going to give myself an ulcer. On the other hand, I couldn’t let his boy see me on the verge of losing it. “Tell him I’ll watch it without an audience.”

  He flushed. “Y-yes, sir.” I scowled at him. Did he think I was going to jerk off to it?

  Howard grabbed Bancroft’s arm. “Jesus, Xander, what the fuck is your director thinking?”

  “Well, yours isn’t—!” The rest of his comment was cut off as Howard hustled him out of my office and shut the door behind them.

  I waited until I was sure they were gone and then buzzed Ms. Parker. “I don’t want to be disturbed until further notice.” I didn’t wait for her to acknowledge my order, just released the button and went back to turn on the television.

  It turned my stomach. There was nothing arousing about those images: a skinny, redheaded teen with spiked hair, his head drooping and his face turned away from the camera, riding the cock of a man who was at least twice his age although he tried to look younger.

  The intercom buzzed. “Ms. Parker, I thought I told you—”

  “I’m sorry, sir. It’s Mr. Davies. He was very insistent.”

  Yeah, I fucking bet he was. “What line?”

  “He’s on two.”

  “Thank you.” I drew in a breath, held it for a second, and then blew it out. The last thing I wanted Davies to know was how disturbed I was by this. Yeah, I could kill people without thinking twice about it. I could even torture them without a second thought. But this… this was fucking sick. I paused the tape and pressed two.

  “Well? What did you think?”

  “I’m cut to the quick, Anson. I thought you knew me better than this.”

  “What?” He sounded confused. Good.

  “I prefer my porn to be between consenting adults.”

  “I’m disappointed in you, Vincent! Didn’t you recognize the boy?”

  “Should I have?” I asked, making my words indifferent. The voice was nagging at me, but I still couldn’t place it.

  “Of course you should, considering your boy is involved with him! Involved! That’s a laugh. He’s fucking the whore! Or the whore is fucking him!”

  Theo? Goddammit! I knew the voice was familiar, but it was a boy’s voice. As for his face… in the clip I’d seen, it was turned away.

  “Trevor reprimanded you yesterday, Vincent. He won’t be happy if he has to reprimand you again. God knows he’s had enough complaints about you and how you’re running Interior Affairs.” I couldn’t see the sneer on Davies’s face, but I could hear it in his voice. Smug, supercilious bastard. “He isn’t going to be pleased to learn of this.”

  “No, he… he won’t. A whore! Oh, God, a whore! You can’t….” I made my voice strident. “This will ruin my career!”

  “Yes, won’t it? And that’s exactly what I plan to do. Unless….”

  “‘Unless’ what? I’ll… I’ve got to make this right. How did you get this tape? I have a right to know!”

  “Oh, let’s just say I have a friend in the right place.” God, he sounded self-satisfied. And he was buying my act hook, line, and sinker. “Now, when can I expect you to fire Matheson?”

  “Why do you want Matheson out of the WBIS?”

  “He was never supposed to be in this organization. Someone else—”

  So Davies had another of Huntingdon’s personnel in mind for the position Matheson had been given. I needed to contact Matheson and see what he knew about this.

  Davies abruptly changed what he was going to say. “He’s not WBIS material.”

  And yet Matheson had done everything the WBIS had asked of him. What was it about him that had Davies’s shorts in a bunch?

  “He has the day off.”

  “I don’t care.” I could almost hear his shrug. “I’ll just go and see Trevor. It’s so handy that his office is just down the hall from Public Relations.”

  “I’ll… please, don’t do anything. I’ll call Matheson and tell him he has to come in.”

  “I thought you would.” There was a pause, and then he said, “It’s getting late, and I have dinner plans. I’ll give you until Monday. I expect to hear at that time that Matheson has been fired. If I haven’t….” He made the words menacing.

  “I… I won’t disappoint you. I promise.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t. You’re quite an actor.”

  “I… don’t understand.” Had I laid it on too thick? Had he put two and two together and gotten that The Boss hadn’t reprimanded me?

  “You have everyone in the WBIS believing you’re dangerous, but you’re nothing more than a loudmouth in a cheap suit. What a laugh!” He hung up.

  “You stupid son of a bitch!” I snarled at the phone. He’d faced me before, but he bought the wimp routine? Asshole. And an even bigger asshole for giving me all that extra time. I fisted my hands. I was going to crush him. I hit the intercom. “Ms. Parker, get me Winchester.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost seven, and fuck it, I was never going to make dinner with Quinn. I took out my cell phone and speed-dialed his number.

  It went to voice mail. Damn.

  “I’m still at work, and I have no idea how late I’ll be. I’m sorry, I’ll have to cancel. Would you mind letting Raphael’s know not to hold our reservation? I’ll call you when I get home. Bye, babe.”

  The intercom buzzed. “I have Winchester on one, sir.”

  “Thanks.” I hit one and began speaking. “I’m putting you on a tail.”

  “A tail? You mean surveillance? Yes, sir!” How old was he anyway? He sounded like a kid with a new video game. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was bouncing like the tiger in Winnie the Pooh. “Um… who am I tailing?”

  “You know the Director o
f Public Relations?”

  “Mr. Davies? I’ve seen him around.”

  “He should be leaving headquarters at any moment. Get your ass down to the lobby and follow him. I want to know who he has dinner with. Oh, and Winchester, don’t let him see you.”

  “Yes, sir! Er… no, sir! Er….”

  “Get going.”

  Then I called Matheson.

  “Yes, sir?” He sounded relaxed and sated. Well, shit, I’d probably sounded the same way yesterday.

  “I know I gave you the weekend off, but something’s come up and I need you here at headquarters now.”

  “I… yes, sir. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “All right.” It was the tail end of rush hour. “Just don’t have an accident.”

  “No, sir.”

  I was fucking tired of all this bullshit with Davies. Once it was verified that the boy in the video was or wasn’t Theo…. I’d let Davies have a nice, quiet dinner, a nice, complacent weekend, but when he came back to his office on Monday, he was going to be fucking sorry he’d been so anxious for me to see this tape.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d interfered with my department, but it was for goddamn sure it would be the last.

  ***

  It was about half an hour later when Matheson came in, a little out of breath.

  “Sorry, sir. Traffic….”

  “Don’t worry about it. I want you to take a look at this. The face is obscured, but pay attention to the voice.” I started the tape, watching Matheson’s face as he realized what he was seeing.

  “Jesus, the kid is so young.” And then he turned ghost white, and I thought for a minute he was going to throw up. “That’s… is that Theo?”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “No. The voice sounds like his, but without being able to see the face….” He met my eyes. “How did you get this, sir?”

  “Davies. He almost had an orgasm making sure I’d seen it.”

  “I don’t understand why.”

  “He doesn’t like you. He wants you out of the WBIS. You know this agency is very relaxed when it comes to same-sex relationships, but if there’s anything about your partner that could become a hazard to you, that could cause a problem. And Davies has dug up this dirt.”