Promises 2 (35 page)

The last bodyguard stood taller and pulled a silver handgun from his waistband, aiming it at Ford’s chest. Ford cocked his head to the side as if he were confused. Like he was flabbergasted this man would stay there and try to take him on… and with one measly weapon.

“Leave him alone,” the bodyguard said slowly, like he was talking down a serial killer. “I will shoot you.”

“No, don’t. Please.” Cayson was still crouched down on the floor with his hands still over his ears, dreading the sound of a gunshot. “No, no, no, no.”

Another loud bang resonated through the room. It wasn’t a gunshot, but was just as terrifying. Cayson turned towards the wall and curled in on himself, squeezing his ears harder, trying to eliminate the shouts and curses. He could hear glass breaking and chaos ensuing all around him, but he kept his head down, his eyes squeezed shut so tight they ached, as he tried to mold himself into the corner.

Just go away. All of you just go away.
Panic was settling in Cayson’s soul, and he could feel himself slipping back to unconsciousness. He felt like he’d suddenly been drugged. His limbs were heavy as he slid down until he was lying on his side. It felt like it took so much strength just to crack his eyes open, but he managed to get a glimpse of several men in his living room, fighting each other, or fighting together… he couldn’t tell. He was so tired and afraid. His body shook with terror until the sound of a gunshot made him jerk violently, right before his stomach began to convulse and heave while he spit pale yellow saliva onto his floor. He could’ve sworn he heard someone yelling Rome’s name, but maybe it was his imagination, because there was no way Quick would be there for him after what he’d done.

~~~~~~~~~~

Quick was out of Judge’s truck before he even slowed to a stop, and he knew Duke and Dana were gonna be close on his heels. Quick leaped Cayson’s gate like a hurdle and ran fist first into Cayson’s home, taking out the first threat he saw. Ford.

“No. Rome, don’t,” Ford hollered, right before Quick leaped through the air and crashed into him. He’d only had a split second to survey the scene, but in that brief time, he managed to see a blurred image of Cayson’s shivering form on the floor and Ford standing too close to him, his shirt splattered with blood.

As soon as they both hit the floor, Ford rolled them to try to get the advantage. Quick knew that trick and he threw his leg back, stopping the roll, and pushed off, throwing them in the other direction. Quick successfully blocked the first blow Ford threw at his head, but he took a couple body shots before he was able to throw his own. Once he did, he unleashed the full power of his beast onto Ford.

Rome grunted, throwing fast, precise punches and elbows at each sensitive part of Ford’s body. His strikes were so fast that Ford eventually stopped trying to fight back, and went into survival mode. While animals were created with or evolved tons of defense mechanisms to protect themselves from fiercer predators, humans… all they could do was curl into a fetal position and try to protect their vital organs from attack. Ford’s fists were balled tight and tucked close to his head, to protect Quick from breaking anything on his face. His abs and back muscles tightly contracted as Quick tortured Ford’s kidneys by kneeing him hard in back while he rained down punches. In hand-to-hand combat, a fight could feel like ten minutes, when in actuality, it’d only been ten seconds. That’s how long Quick had been on Ford before Duke and Dana got to him. He knew he could do some serious damage in that short amount of time.

“Police! Police! Nobody move!”

Quick was tackled by several hard bodies and was knocked off of Ford and slammed into the bottom of Cayson’s stairs. He didn’t feel a thing. Quick fought them all, going for pressure points on anyone who had the audacity to touch him. He didn’t know who was on his back, but a firm squeeze to the crevice of their forearm made them let go immediately, the pained scream coming from next to his right ear was only slightly soothing to his beast as he went after every vulnerable spot on anyone who held him.

“Watch your fuckin’ throat, Duke.”

That was Judge growling for Duke to watch out. Was he fighting Duke? Quick stilled suddenly, his chest heaving from the exertion. His body pulsed with an overload of adrenaline as he tried to take a deep breath and failed. There were people all around, but he still couldn’t see clearly. He tried to count to five, but only managed to get to two, when his body began to shake uncontrollably. An aftereffect of the adrenaline. 

“Breathe, Rome.” Duke was there, he hadn’t hurt him. “Officers, please just stand back and give him some room. Please.”

Quick had to get himself together. He went up to his knees and dropped his head down between them. He kept trying to count and breathe. Each count got higher and each breath got deeper. Sweat leaked into his eyes the moment he was able to actually focus them on something. The scene looked very similar to their office this morning. Quick looked around to see if there was anyone with their head missing, but was relieved to see the gun must’ve missed its target because there were no dead bodies. He’d heard the gunshot but it was no louder than the roaring in his ears had been.

He stumbled on his first few steps as he looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. He looked over in the corner by Cayson’s record player, squinting at the bloody man in the tracksuit. Quick shook his head to clear the fog. His first thought was that it couldn’t be Dr. Joe being worked on by those EMTs. Quick clenched his fists. Just the sight of Joe was making it harder to settle down.

“Forget about him. Cayson needs you, Rome.” Duke stood close to him, leaning in to talk in his ear. “Make the right decision.”

Quick growled and seethed beneath his curtain of sweaty hair as he kept his head lowered like a bull about to charge. He tried to let Duke’s words sink in.

“You’re a fuckin’ Grandmaster, for shit’s sake. Get yourself under control, before these cops think you’re too big a danger to yourself and everyone in this room.” Ford snapped right in his face.

Quick jerked back. Ford was there next to Duke, trying to help. What did he do?
What happened? I was fighting Ford, wasn’t I?
Damn, he hated when his episodes – his beast – got the better of him. He was so good at keeping himself in check, ever since he was a teen, but he guessed when it came to Cayson – to the love of his life, all checking was off.

Cayson. Quick didn’t know if his love was alright or not. He hadn’t even stopped to see. What kind of partner would he be? He stood to his feet, pushing his hair back behind his ears, searching for one person in the room full of civilians and city authorities. Now he had a real mission. Find Cays.

Quick spun around, pushed between two police officers, both of them putting their hands on their holsters as he moved around. Duke and Judge were in a serious conversation with a group of officers, but Quick didn’t miss Duke’s eyes tracking him while attempting an explanation to all this. 

“C-Cayson!” Quick croaked, his throat aching, on fire from the growling and yelling.

“Rome.”

Quick spun back, moving another officer out of his way. Duke was pointing behind him, Quick had to turn again. All this spinning was not helping his head to clear at all. He could see three huge paramedics working on a man propped against the wall in the dining room. With a newfound focus, Quick moved through the crowd, officers were escorting the bodyguards out of the house. Two men in suits, who Quick assumed were detectives, tried to stop him, but the look he gave them said fight or flight… they chose the latter.

As soon as he was directly behind the paramedics, they turned and looked at him, and then scattered out of the way like Quick was a supernatural being. He ignored them and went down hard on his knees in between Cayson’s spread legs.

“Baby.” Quick knew he voice must sound like the devil’s, but he had to try to get Cayson to forgive him. Forgive him for not being there. He needed that right now. The pain in his chest was unbearable; his heart shattering at the realization of what his leaving Cayson alone had allowed to happen. No one was ever there when Cayson needed them, and Quick had done the exact same thing. It didn’t matter the circumstances why he couldn’t get to him, the fact still remained. He wasn’t a man of excuses. Cayson’s eyes were just slightly open, like he was exhausted, they were hazed over and not their usual radiant blue. Quick raised his trembling hand and cupped Cayson’s bruised cheek. “Cayson are you alright?”  

“Roman. I didn’t mean… I’m so sorry… Brian… God, I’m so sorry.” If Quick wasn’t concentrating so hard on Cayson, there was no way he would’ve heard what he was saying. Not only were Quick’s ears still ringing from his episode, but Cayson was barely gusting out each word on very shallow, labored breaths. His voice sounded so small and he was apologizing. For what? Was this what Cayson usually did? Take on blame that wasn’t his own? The blood pressure cuff inflated on Cayson’s arm, and Quick blinked, realizing the paramedics had moved back in and were calling out vitals.

“Sir. Sir, your blood pressure is slightly elevated, but your pulse is slowly returning to normal. How are you feeling? Are you nauseous? Dizzy?”

“It was a panic attack. I’m pretty sure I had one earlier and its lingering effects triggered this one. I’m fine, really. I’ll monitor my blood pressure through the night,” Cayson said, sounding winded.

The paramedics didn’t look convinced, and honestly, neither did Quick. Cayson was still quite pale, and his lips not the normal soft pink color, instead they held a disturbing bluish tint, like he’d been deprived of oxygen too long.

“I’m a surgeon. I know the symptoms if my blood pressure and pulse start to elevate and things become more serious. Right now I’m just… just exhausted.” Cayson slumped against Quick’s chest and he thought he’d heard a chorus of hallelujahs over his head as he squeezed his love to him. He wasn’t feeling any rage, only need. An extreme need to protect the man in his arms for the rest of his life.

Cayson was staring at Quick, his bloodshot eyes pleading for forgiveness. Quick needed Cayson alone. He couldn’t deal with all the other noise going on. He rose up, his eyes squinting into the crowd. There was more noise, more commotion, as more police officers filed into Cayson’s home.

Duke was standing off to the side with Dana and Judge. All three of them with their IDs out, speaking with the detectives, but Quick brushed them off. It looked like some uniformed officers were reading Dr. Joe his rights. No sooner had they finished, than he started to yell for Cayson.

Cayson rubbed his forehead against Quick’s chest in frustration, his hands hovering over his ears. He barely heard the pained, “Get me out of here,” from Cayson’s mouth with Joe losing his shit as soon as the metal cuffs clicked around his wrists.

“Just go, please,” Cayson whispered brokenly.

Quick didn’t take another second to think of his next move. Cayson needed to get out of there and he was going to do that for him. Not paying any more attention to the paramedics who were packing up their huge duffle bags, Quick lifted Cayson in his arms like a man would carry a woman over a threshold, and squeezed him close. Pain didn’t register in his mind as he hefted Cayson up higher on his chest and made his way through the crowd. He was at the base of Cayson’s stairs when he heard the detectives calling out to them. They weren’t Quick’s concern or priority, nor were their reports.

“Sir. You can’t leave yet. Not until we get a statement.”

Quick climbed each step gingerly, careful not to jostle his tired doctor too much. Quick tuned out the angry men at the foot of the stairs and tucked his face into Cayson’s neck, breathing in his scent, letting it continue to settle him down. 

“Sir. You can’t go until we’ve spoken to you.” The detective was trying to radiate a little more authority, but Quick wasn’t stopping. And it would be a pity for anyone who tried to force him to.  

“Just give him a minute. The guy he assaulted is still standing here and he already said he’s not pressing charges, so pipe down. Goddamn. There’s not a fuckin’ heliport up there, he’ll come back down.” Quick heard the end of Duke’s bitching right before he turned the corner into Cayson’s bedroom. It sounded like his partner was about out of patience and needed to get home to his man, too.

His best friend always had his back, no matter what. Sighing wearily, Quick knew he was going to owe everyone. He was glad to hear that Ford wasn’t going to press charges and have him arrested, but the consequences of his actions hadn’t even crossed his mind. Cayson was still occupying 99% of his brain space. 

Cayson

Cayson blinked his eyes awake, squinting at the faint light coming through the open curtains in his bedroom. He didn’t remember opening them. He fought to come fully wake and remember why he was in his bed still dressed and feeling like he’d been dragged behind a truck for a couple miles. His body ached all over and his limbs felt too heavy to lift. What was going on? As the memories flooded back to the forefront of his mind, a throbbing pain began behind his eye sockets and radiated to the base of his skull. Ugh! Tension headache. He’d loathed them in college. Used to get them frequently until he’d learned to manage his stress level.