After the Scrum (17 page)

"You do look rather flushed, love. Long night out at the cove?"

With Caddock at his pub with Rupert, Joanne, and Graham, Francis had opted to go to his office. He had other clients, after all. Those four along with Devlin could easily finish up the last details before the bar opening at the end of the week.

Tea and a scone were happily provided by Ruth. She had a teasing glint in her eyes. Gossip had apparently already reached her ears. Thank God no one knew
precisely
what had happened on the beach. He'd be blushing until eternity.

Slipping Sherlock a sliver of the scone, Francis grabbed the post on the floor. He flipped through it briefly, eventually stowing it away in his bag. It held nothing of vital importance that required his immediate attention.

The morning had been so pleasant, yet Francis couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. For once, Sherlock trailed behind him. He trudged up the stairs to his office. Maybe the scone had given him indigestion.

And then it happened.

He'd barely crossed the threshold when the door slammed shut behind him. Sherlock whined then pawed at the door, obviously becoming increasingly frantic. The dog's barking grew louder, only to stop altogether seconds later. Francis spun around, to find himself shoved up against a wall by an obviously drunk Patty.

"I saw you." He swayed on his feet, but his strength was surprisingly sufficient to hold his captive in place. "Saw you on the beach with that new bloke."

Shit.

I'm going to kill Caddock.

If I survive.

"You're filthy." Patty licked a disgusting swath along his neck. "I like filthy."

"Get off me." Francis struggled against him, but then the man's putrid breath hit him. It choked him—his throat closing tightly at the stark reminder of his worst night years ago. The terrifying walls of anxiety closed on him. He practically wilted at the onslaught of memories. "No.
No.
"

It was his living nightmare. The one thing Francis prayed never to have happen to him
ever
again. The reason he had never visited London again, unless forced by circumstances. Why now? Why him?

A forceful shake caused him to whack his head against the wooden panelling that made up the walls of his office. Francis slid to the floor with a pained groan. He skittered away from the stumbling man, trying to find refuge.

He barely made it halfway to his desk when a gnarled hand grabbed his ankle. Patty dragged him over, and Francis shrank away from the drunk. This would not end well.

The walls closed in as always while his breath came in short gasps. His panic attack refused to wait for a more convenient time. Francis shivered while trying to find some semblance of control.

"You're a pretty bloke." Patty stood over him, a disgusting leer on his face. "Not handsome. You sure you're a bloke?"

He cringed at the touch on his ankles, desperately trying to yank himself out of the grasp. He would
not
be weak this time. Not again.
Never
again.

"You
will
release me." Francis strived to find strength in his faltering voice. "I said…
release
me."

"Or what?" Patty didn't appear at all concerned by the threats. "Pretty lads like you don't stand a chance with a real man. What're you gonna do to me?"

Francis had no answer for his slurred question. Patty went for him again. He struggled to get free of the man. He would
not
tremble in fear, waiting for rescue.

Kicking his way free, Francis struggled to his feet. The early whack to his head and the panic attack made him almost as unsteady as the drunk. He struggled across the small office, trying to get free.

He made it to the door, only to be yanked back. Patty knocked him to the floor and Francis's head caught the edge of his heavy antique desk. The world went dark.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Caddock

Busy—the one word that described Caddock's morning perfectly. He thought perhaps frantically busy might be more accurate. The bar opening in a couple days had him running ragged.

The staff had been hired, and thankfully, were all experienced enough not to need training. They might end up being the ones training him. He'd brought in two bartenders, a chef, and a manager to help him keep the place from descending into chaos.

Haddy's was a small enough pub not to need a massive number of employees. The chef wanted to hire at least one more person in the kitchen. Caddock had ended up taking in a local lad who needed part-time work while attending university.

Rupert, Graham, and Joanne had all come to help him with the last-minute touches in the pub. Joanne had
mostly
been directing the three men and helping to corral Devlin. Granted, the lad got into less trouble than the overgrown boys did. Caddock knew from experience she could deal with them as easily as the four-year-old.

"Watch, Uncle Boo.
Watch!
" Devlin gave a happy shriek, making all the adults wince at the piercing sound. "Uncle Boo!"

Caddock paused while balancing two boxes of pint glasses to dutifully watch Devlin balance on Graham's shoulders. "I see. Oi, blond one, you break him, you bought him."

"How much for him?" Graham held the boy up on his shoulders while rooting around his pocket. "I've got a few quid somewhere in here. How about it?"

"Bad Gwaham." Devlin boxed the man over his ears then quickly apologized when his uncle frowned at him. He giggled when Rupert told him not to worry about it; his brother's head was too hard to damage easily. "Lock, Lock, Lock."

Setting down the boxes, Caddock watched in bewilderment when Sherlock dashed up to him. The dog snatched the edge of his trousers in his teeth and attempted to drag him towards the open door. The adults all glanced towards it, expecting Francis to appear. He would never let the sheltie wander too far away on his own.

They waited.

And
waited.

"It's like an episode of Lassie," Rupert muttered. Sherlock grew more frantic, almost nipping Caddock's leg.

"Which one?" Graham asked offhandedly.

"Pick one. They all started like this."

"Is now really the time?" Joanne swatted her husband on the arm. She snatched Devlin from her brother-in-law. Her sharp words caught their attention, which had likely been her intention. "It might be wise if you three follow him. Sherlock's a smart dog. He wouldn't leave Francis unless something was truly wrong. He's been trained to stick with his owner. Well? Get on with it then."

"Does she order you about in bed too?" Caddock dodged the punch Rupert threw at him. He turned to Sherlock and started for the door. "C'mon, you mangy creature, lead the way. But if Francis is fine and dandy, you're in the doghouse."

The three men had to jog to keep Sherlock in sight. He would race forward then dart back to ensure they didn't lose track of him. It didn't take long to reach Francis's office.

They found Ruth hovering by the outer door to the building, worry evident on her face. Her hands gripped her apron tightly. The icy fingers of dread spread in Caddock's gut. His heart started to race and he went from jogging to full on sprinting.

"We heard—I'm not sure—it sounded like boxes falling or a fight. My Stevie's trying to get into the office." Ruth stepped out of their way then crouched down to wrap her arms around Sherlock's neck. "I'll keep the little love out from under your feet. Go on up. Hurry now."

Taking the stairs two at a time, Caddock waved Stevie out of his way from where the man had been trying to pick the lock. He used his shoulder as a battering ram to crash through the door. The three behind him followed quickly into the room.

They stopped, momentarily stunned by the sight of a man—the drunk Caddock had seen weeks earlier outside his pub—standing over an unconscious Francis.
Patty? Isn't that his name?
He appeared almost confused by the limp body at his feet.

Caddock launched himself at the bastard when he spotted drying blood on his lover's head. He knocked Patty to the floor. Rupert and Stevie moved quickly to pull him away while Graham easily caught the drunk to restrain him.

"No killing the arsehole, Brute. Let the coppers deal with him." Rupert motioned to Stevie, whose angry flashing eyes belied his normal gentle giant face. "Give the police a call? We're going to need an ambulance. Caddock—see if you can get Francis to wake up, but don't let him move."

With several shaky breaths, Caddock managed to pull back the blinding haze of rage. A skittering of claws on the wooden floor told him Sherlock had wriggled away from Ruth. The dog plastered himself on his owner, quietly whinging and licking his face.

"Sherlock."

The pained whisper was music to Caddock's ears. He dropped to his knees beside Francis. A gentle nudge had Sherlock sitting to the right instead of directly on his owner. They didn't know how hurt he was, after all.

Caddock brought up his hand to smooth the ruffled chaos of Francis's hair. His fingers trembled while he gently searched for any injuries. He found two impressive goose eggs on the man's head—not a good sign.

"Are you hurt anywhere other than your head?" Caddock kept his voice soft, not wanting to spook Francis into a panic attack. He could hear the sirens growing closer. They'd at least have professional medical help soon. "Your Sherlock pulled a Lassie."

"Did he? I owe him a biscuit." Francis seemed to slowly be returning to himself. He turned his head away, blushing as if ashamed. Sherlock gave him a comforting lick. "Maybe Ruth will make a large peanut butter one for you."

"The paramedics are here," Rupert called over to them before Francis could continue praising his dog. "Don't terrify the coppers, Brute. You hear me? Be nice, they're here to help."

"I fought back this time."

For a second, Caddock simply stared at a dazed Francis on the floor in confusion.
What?
It dawned on him finally, after remembering Francis's comments about the attack in London. He'd clearly wanted to feel in control—to save himself this time around.

Reminding himself murder was still considered illegal helped his returning rage at the thought of how much this might set the still healing man back. Caddock smiled at Francis. He told him how proud he should be of himself.

He left out there had been no reason for shame on his part for either attack. The only ones who deserved recriminations were the bastards who'd attacked Francis. He would remind him of it after the head injury had been examined.

"It didn't change anything." Francis winced when the paramedic began carefully inspecting him for injuries. "I don't need a hospital."

"
Cub.
" Caddock glared sternly at him. No way in hell would Francis
not
be getting a full check-up by a doctor. "Let the nice paramedics make sure you didn't turn your brain into runny eggs."

"You think you're funny." Francis didn't have the strength to fully express his annoyance.

The paramedics left no room for further comment. They eased Francis onto a stretcher. Caddock followed with Sherlock close behind him.

He nodded absently to the police, who had already escorted Patty into the back of one of their vehicles. One of the detectives took his number and promised to follow up with him later. They seemed to understand his need to follow the ambulance.

"Graham," Caddock yelled out of his vehicle to get the blond's attention. "Have Ruth call Francis's gran. She should hear about this before the damn gossips spread it around."

The man mock saluted before jogging towards the nearby bakery. Caddock gently ruffled Sherlock's fur to soothe the anxious dog. He told himself Francis would be fine—had to be.

Had to be.

Unwanted memories of a teammate who died after a head injury came to mind. Caddock had to force himself to ease off the accelerator. A car accident wouldn't be a help to anyone.

Sherlock curled up on the front seat. He appeared as worried as Caddock. No one would rest easy until they knew Francis was fine, relatively speaking.

They would all want Francis home—safely. Caddock could spoil him to his heart's content then. Show the man how attached to each other they'd become.

Given how much the entire village loved Francis, there was no doubt he'd be overwhelmed with attention once word got out. The police would need to keep Patty under lock and key for his own safety. No one would take the attack on the eccentric decorator kindly.

"Sherlock? Think you can behave at the A & E? We wouldn't want to get kicked out." Caddock laughed when the dog wagged his tail twice. "Is it twice for yes? And I'm talking to a bloody dog. I have lost my mind. It's official. You've made me go nutters."

Sherlock growled.

"My apologies."

Sherlock wagged his tail again. The dog had an eerie ability to understand at times, probably because Francis talked to him constantly. They were the best of friends.

He wondered if Francis looked on his dog as the one being in his life who never judged him. Grandmothers, like parents, didn't often count into those kinds of considerations. He hoped to prove himself to be another person to rely upon.

By the time Caddock arrived at the emergency room, Francis had been moved to a private room. The doctors were with him, so he sat with Sherlock impatiently in the waiting room, joined eventually by Rupert and Francis's grandmother.

The normally cheerful woman appeared pale and drawn. She sank silently into a chair. Caddock thought her knees might've given out on her. Sherlock immediately moved over to sit by her, resting his head on her leg to offer and receive comfort.

Caddock strode down the hall to find a drink machine. He grabbed a cup of tea to bring back to her. "Francis will be fine. He's a strong man. Stronger than he thinks."

"Oh, I know, dear. I do worry though. You'll watch over him, won't you?" She turned shrewd eyes towards him. Her aged hands gripped the paper cup. "You will, or I'll take a cricket bat to your head. He's my boy. And I can see you care. So you keep caring, understood?"