Men of London 04 - Feat of Clay (9 page)

Tate shook his head in disbelief at the
stupidity and ignorance of the human race. “What the hell is wrong
with people?”

Randy shrugged. “Human beings can be the
worst sort of cruel. Krispin was physically abused by his father
from an early age; Cathy is six and was abandoned when she was
three when her folks found out she was deaf…they wanted a perfect
child and she didn’t fit the bill. So they left her with a sister
who was a drug addict and who didn’t treat her well.” He cleared
his throat. “The only good thing is that they all found their way
here, and are relatively stable and happy. Jax contributes to that.
They love him.”

“I’ve only just met him and even I can see
how special he is.” Tate agreed. “He has this calming effect, this
light about him.”

“That’s our Jax.” Randy said proudly. “I know
one day he’ll have to leave us and that will be a sad day when he
does, but until then we’re fortunate to have him.” He grimaced.
“Don’t get me wrong, he has his bad days. Then he hides in his room
and won’t talk to anyone. Not even the kids can get him out of his
funk. But those episodes are few.”

Tate spent another half an hour talking to
Randy. When he finally left that afternoon, he called Clay. He
planned to let him know he was on his way to his house and he’d
pick up dinner and wait for him there.

Clay answered. He sounded a little
preoccupied. “Mortimer.”

“Wow, that’s a bit brusque, isn’t it? What if
I’d been a client?” Tate said in amusement.

Clay chuckled. “Sorry, I’ve been working from
home this afternoon and was in the zone. It didn’t even occur to me
check who was calling. How did your visit go?”

Tate was pleased he’d get to see Clay sooner.
“I can tell you I have much more of an appreciation for the work
that the halfway house does.”

Tate crossed the street to his car, an aging
VW Golf, and clicked the key fob to open the door. “I think this
whole visit was orchestrated to show me that there are others worse
off than me. Randy even got me to agree to go back and give a talk
to the youngsters on being a policeman.” He grinned as he got into
the driver seat. “I think that damn doctor was trying to give me a
new perspective on things. She’s one sneaky lady. She might even be
in your league, my maestro of manipulation.”

Clay’s husky laugh went straight to Tate’s
dick. “Yeah? I’ll show you manipulation when you get here. Your
legs over my shoulders.”

Tate’s dick grew harder and he groaned.
“Don’t do that. I’m about to drive home and a hard-on will just get
in the way.” He started the car and put his mobile into the
Bluetooth cradle.

“You could always pull over and we can have
car phone sex,” his lover purred seductively. As much as Tate
fancied that idea, the biscuits he’d had earlier hadn’t filled him
up and his stomach was growling. He intended stopping to pick up
Chinese food on his way home and eat
then
go to bed with Clay.

“It’s an attractive offer, but I’m ravenous,
and not for cock.” Clay’s splutter of laughter warmed Tate’s heart
and he laughed. “I’ll pick up some Chinese and see you in a while.”
He shifted gears and sped up. “Oh and I met this really incredible
young man called Jax. There’s just something about him that makes
me want to get to know him a little bit more.”

Clay’s voice was a little edgy when he next
spoke. “Really? Does he know you’re spoken for?”

Tate’s stomach tingled pleasurably at the
tone of possessiveness in Clay’s voice. If his man had one
particular fault, it was that he was jealous as hell. Not to the
point of being unreasonable, but the green-eyed monster never
lurked far from his cool surface.

“No, you jealous bastard, he’s only
seventeen. Kiddie-bait. He’s been through such a lot but he just
radiates this positive energy. Remarkable kid from what I’ve heard.
I’ll tell you all about him when I get home.”

“Ahh.” Clay didn’t sound convinced. “Okay.
Could you pick me up some of that crispy chilli beef please? I
could really go for that.”

“Roger,” Tate said as he steered his way
through the traffic. “I’ll see you soon.”

Clay put down
his mobile and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Tate had sounded
upbeat, more so than Clay had expected. They’d had a couple of
altercations about that particular part of his therapy. Tate hadn’t
been looking forward to the visit to Castaways, which had led to
heated, expletive-filled arguments. One had led to hot make-up sex;
the other had Clay storming off to visit Draven.

Now Clay frowned, wondering who this Jax was
that had Tate all warm and fuzzy. His mobile rang again. He smiled,
thinking it was Tate, and didn’t even bother to check the caller
ID.

“Hi love, haven’t they got any chilli beef
then? I’ll settle for something sweet and sour, you choose.”

A loud snort of laughter blasted his
eardrums. “Much as I like you, Clay, I have no intention of giving
you anything sweet or sour. I’ll leave that to Tate.”

Clay chuckled at the sound of Rick’s voice.
“You cheeky little blighter. To what do I owe the pleasure of this
call?”

Rick sighed heavily. “Sometimes I wish I’d
never got that promotion to Sergeant. Now I have to do all sorts of
stuff I didn’t have to do as a constable. Which includes attending
some sort of black-tie event and I don’t have a tuxedo. I happen to
know Tate hoards all his old ones in one of your cupboards. I
wondered if I could borrow one; I’m sure I’ll find one to fit. I
haven’t been able to get hold of him, and I’m in the area, so I
wondered if I could pop in and rummage.”

Clay snorted. “Sure, if you think you can
navigate the horror that is Tate’s closet. It’s all cut-off jeans
and sleeveless, tatty tee shirts that he can’t bear to part with
because they’re ‘comfortable.’” Tate’s flat didn’t have much space
and Clay’s home had four bedrooms—plenty of spare capacity, which
meant he’d inherited a lot of Tate’s
junk
.

Clay frowned as he focused on Rick’s other
comment. “You can’t get hold of him? I spoke to him just a minute
ago.”

Rick’s voice was wry. “Clay, don’t go
worrying. He’s probably engrossed in conversation with Mister Yung
at the takeaway. You know how they love to yack.” There was the
sound of scrabbling and a muttered curse then Rick came back on the
line, sounding a little breathless. “Sorry about that. Some kid ran
past and knocked me. I nearly dropped the phone. Okay, I’ll see you
in a while then.”

Clay’s mobile went silent and he laid it back
on the table.

He wondered whether to call Tate again and
find out if everything was okay. Part of him wanted to do it right
now, the other, the bit that had promised his partner he’d stop
being so protective, said a firm
leave it
alone
.

So Clay chose to make some more business
calls, mess around with some paperwork and ignore the tight feeling
in his stomach that meant he was worried. When Tate walked in half
an hour later, bearing fragranced bags of food, Clay was
relieved.

“Got your beef,” Tate announced as he threw
his jacket over the chair back and disappeared into the kitchen.
There was the sound of packets rustling and plates being pulled
from the cupboard. Clay followed his lover into his kitchen and
stood watching as Tate busied himself arranging food on plates.

“Smells good. By the way, Rick’s popping
over. Something about wanting to borrow one of your tuxes for some
fancy do.” He frowned. “I’d expected him here already.” He glanced
at his watch.

“Rick’s coming over? Okay…” Tate’s voice
tailed off and he looked a little shamefaced. “Did he say anything
about anything?” His tone was hesitant.

Clay looked at him. “Define
anything
.” He quirked an eyebrow, curiosity spiking.
Tate seemed ill at ease as he took a deep breath. “I haven’t told
my sister about us yet and he’s been pushing me to. It’s just—I
know you told your folks and some of the people at work, but Lucy
hasn’t been around much, and every time I think I’ll do it, I get
distracted and Rick has been nagging me.”

He rifled through the food bags with jerky
movements and laid more food out on the counter. He didn’t meet
Clay’s eyes.

Clay walked over to Tate and stayed his
fiddling, his large hands grasping Tate’s tightly. “Tate, it’s
fine. You’ve had a lot on your plate to deal with.” He caressed
Tate’s cheek gently. “This isn’t a race to see which one of us can
tell as many people as possible.”

Privately he thought the slower the news
dribbled out the better. But Lucy was a bit of a firecracker and to
find out she’d been one of the last to know could cause Tate a few
big-sister problems. Like a slap to the side of the head.

His partner looked at him with darkened eyes
filled with self-recrimination. “I made a big deal about you
telling people about us but when it comes to my own sister, I just
haven’t gotten around to it,” he muttered. “That makes me a bad
person.”

Clay snorted. “And when she finds out you
waited so long, her wrath will be punishment enough.” He grinned at
the panicked look in Tate’s eyes. “To be honest, I think she
probably knows.”

Tate’s eyes widened. “Why would you say
that?”

Clay leaned forward and bit Tate’s earlobe,
causing not only a slight yowl from him, but a shiver to run
through his body.

“Because everyone tells me I look at you as
if you’re the whole world to me. I can’t help it. It’s true.” He
reached over and framed Tate’s face, then leaned in and took his
lover’s mouth in a bruising kiss. The moan Tate breathed into his
mouth had him hard in seconds. He never failed to love the way Tate
responded to him, the feeling of his mouth on his, the eagerness
with which he shoved his tongue into Clay’s mouth with a fierce
possessiveness.

When they pulled apart, Tate’s mouth was
swollen, his eyes heavy lidded. His hands had burrowed themselves
inside Clay’s shirt, his warm fingers on Clay’s skin.

“I don’t think we should do this now,” Clay
growled huskily. “If Rick finds us getting busy again, he’ll need
therapy.”

His lover snorted with laughter. “Hell, yes.
Last time the poor guy couldn’t sleep for a week, he said.” He
grinned wickedly. “I still think it’s because he harbours this
secret fantasy about older guys and the sight of you and I going at
it like rabbits turned him on.”

“I heard that, you freak.” The indignant
voice behind them made them both swivel round. Clay saw the faint
panic in Tate’s eyes at the sudden interruption but it disappeared
quickly when he saw his nephew smiling behind them. Rick was
obviously off duty as he wore jeans and a blue tee shirt. He was
carrying a cardboard carrier loaded with coffee.

Tall, broad shouldered with light blond hair
and an easy grin, Rick had been
involved
with Taylor Abelard for a short time; as far as Clay knew it had
been as friends with benefits, but all that had changed when Rick
had met Lauren. Rick was bisexual, in his own words ‘an equal
opportunity employer of my dick,’ but Lauren had taken hold of his
heart and his senses and her red-headed beauty had captured him
body and soul. They’d been together for a while now and Clay had
heard marriage rumours floating about. Privately he thought that at
twenty-five, they were both too young, but Rick could be stubborn
like his uncle.

Tate waved a hand at his nephew. “You come
bearing gifts. Good lad.” He reached over and plucked a coffee out
of the tray. “I understand you’re scrounging for a suit?” he
narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think one of mine will fit you?
Better still, you really think you’ll look as good in it as I
do?”

He dodged Rick’s slap at his head and darted
out of the way.

Clay chuckled as he picked up a coffee. “He
does look good in a tux.” He smirked. “He looks even better out of
it…”

Rick scowled. “No images, please. The sight
of two guys doing the dirty isn’t a problem, but when it’s my uncle
and his main squeeze…” he shuddered. “Not going there.”

“Main squeeze?” Tate chortled. “Clay, you
just got downgraded from hot-shot lover to something that comes out
of a toothpaste tube.”

Rick grinned and slurped his coffee. Then he
flicked his eyes up to gaze at Tate.

“Have you told Mum about you and Clay yet?”
His words were mild but Clay saw the effect they had on Tate.

His partner flushed. “No. I thought I’d pop
over, see her tonight.”

Rick nodded. “Okay. I know you’ve had stuff
on your mind. I think she knows but she’ll be as mad as hell if she
doesn’t hear it from you. And you know what Mum’s like.
She’ll
have your balls, let alone Clay
having them.” He sniggered then stared at Clay, a more serious look
on his face. “Have you had any more death threats?”

Tate started and his expression darkened.
Rick’s tone faltered as he darted a guilty glance at Clay then at
Tate. Clay’s heart sunk and from the look on his face, Rick seemed
to know he’d make a faux pas. Clay
had
told
Rick that he’d let Tate know about the threats, and Clay hadn’t, so
Rick wasn’t to blame.

Busted.

“No,” he said quietly. “Nothing since the
last ones.”

Tate’s jaw tensed. “What threats are these?”
he said tightly. His mood had changed in the blink of an eye with
the rapidity of a tornado changing course. PTSD was a bitch.

“It’s that toxic waste case. The one you
helped me with. It seems to have another element now, a missing
person. About ten days ago I had a couple of threats, just the
usual stuff, warning me off. The kind of threats I get because of
the type of business I run.”

“And you didn’t tell me…why?” Tate said
caustically, his eyes flashing.

Rick looked uncertainly at them both then
flapped a hand. “I’m gonna go look for that tux,” he stammered, and
scarpered.