Sing for Your Supper (9 page)

“Actually, you’re the one did the screwing, if memory serves,” I spat back, desperate to keep his attention away from Matt, who was slowly dragging himself out of harm’s way.

“I lost my job because of you! No one will hire me—”

“Because you’re a fag, or because you’re a violent, fucked-up bastard? I didn’t do anything you didn’t want, and if you want to take this shit out on anyone, Pete’s the brother who fucked you over, not me. The two of you deserve each other, far as I’m concerned.”

“Take him downstairs, boys.” Driscoll’s face contorted into a mean, terrifying mask of pleasure. “Nice, new gas stove down there. Good hot flame.” He leered again, touched the cold iron to my cheek, and my stomach turned over.

No Alan to wander by and save your ass this time, Taylor.

I shivered and one of the guys holding me snickered. “Like a rabbit, ain’t ya? Scared and quiverin’” He jostled me, rattling my teeth with the force of his shaking, and I stumbled. We were half-way down the stairs. Rather than fall with me, both men let go. Off balance, counting on their grip to keep me upright, I pitched forwards, tumbling head first to the bottom.

I lay there, blinking through the surprise and daze when they reached me, hauled
me
half off the ground and dragged me the rest of the way. At least they’d stopped beating on Matt. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, but couldn’t quite manage to focus on what Luke was saying. I hung between his henchmen, unable to even get my feet under me. My head swam and there was a vague ache in my right side that flared up hatefully when they let me go.

From where I languished on the floor, I could just see the shattered front door and the glitter of broken glass where morning sun touched the jagged edges of destruction. I blinked, decided it was easier to leave my eyes closed, and a boot landed hard against my ribs.

“No you don’t, Taylor, me lad. No passing out for you. I want you wide awake for this. I owe you.”

I groaned and curled around my ribs in an attempt to protect them from further abuse. Luke grabbed a handful of my hair and hauled me up half way to sitting. I grabbed at his wrist to save my hair being yanked from my scalp.

“What the hell did I do to you but what you wanted?” I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up to ease the pain.

He just bared his teeth, looked to one of his men standing by the stove and told him to make it good and hot.

I shuddered.

“You branded me a fag and a made me unemployable, asshole.” He let go of my hair, and I scrambled to get my feet under me. His heavy fist landed on my jaw and I sprawled back on the floor, laid out and groaning.

I barely registered at first that he was removing my belt, my jeans, which he peeled down and left tangled around my knees. One of his guys yanked my arms behind me, and as much as I struggled, even freed my hands once, they still managed to get the belt around my wrists, punishingly tight, and only after adding a few more bruises along the way.

“You’re a wild cat, this time, Taylor, ain’t ya?” Driscoll ran a hand over my face, cupping my jaw. “A little fight is a good thing. Not like last time.”

I yanked my face out of his grasp, trying desperately to let the anger cover the fear. The wild light in his eyes was ten times worse than it had been the first time. I shuddered to think what he intended this time.

“You’re nothing but a bully, Driscoll. If you’re unemployable, it isn’t any doing of mine. Not my fault you like getting your cock sucked.”

“And suck it you will, Taylor. But first, I’m not letting you off that easy this time. You branded me, now I return the favour.” He nodded to whoever was standing behind me, snatched something from his hand, and for an instant, I saw the searing red end of the iron as it came down, touching the flesh of my hip. I saw the smoke, smelt the stench, then the pain struck. It was everything. It ripped a scream from me, and all the weight of three men draped over me could not keep my trying to writhe away from it.

Maybe I did black out then.

All I know was the iron clattered close to my head and I cringed away. There was vague scuffling and grunting, and as I focused again on the shattered glass of the front door, it flashed bloody, glinting, and painfully bright. A shrill, voiceless sound filled the air. Voices and boots crunching and pounding around me spun me into chaos.

Gentle hands lifted me from the floor, carefully undid the constricting belt, and I felt something soft and warm cover me.

“Taylor?”

“Ungh.” Was it Jim’s voice, or my imagination?

“Okay. Not sure how bad you’re hurt. Try not to move too much.”

“Matt…”

“He called the cops. They’re looking after him.”

“Sorry.”

Arms folded around me, and the scent of Jim’s soap infused everything, even blocking out the scent of burned flesh. “Not your fault.”

Enough feeling came back into my hands I managed to lift one as far as his chest, to feel it, know it was real, and my fingers curled into a fist around the fabric of his shirt. His big hand covered mine, firm, gentle, and for a few minutes, I just managed to breathe and not quite sob.

“I have to let the paramedics look at you now. They’ll bring you to the hospital.”

“Jim?”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll see you there.”

He let me go, then, and the rest faded into painkillers and haze.

Chapter Ten

Weeks later, Matt and I both perched gingerly on Jim’s couch and he fumbled around in the kitchen with the toaster and a pan of bacon, overcooking it, by the smell of things.

“This is killing you,” I teased, as Matt’s nose wrinkled.

“He should just let me—”

“Sit the fuck down, and wait,” Jim snarled as Matt struggled to lift himself out of the couch cushions.

“Just prop me up beside the stove and let me tend the bacon, Jim, please. I’m begging you!”

I giggled, and Matt smacked me on the leg to make me shut up. A look of horror crossed over his face when I didn’t quite hide the wince.

“Shit, T, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” I ran light fingers over the spot on my hip, feeling the bandages through the fleecy fabric of my pants.

“Almost time to take those bandages off,” Jim pointed out.

I folded my hand into my lap, but Matt reached over, picked it up and kissed my knuckles. “After the burnt bacon, yeah?” he asked quietly.

I nodded without looking at him. I was acutely aware that they had both changed the bandages at one time or another, while I was healing, and knew what the wound looked like. I had not yet mustered the courage to look.

“Hey.” He rubbed a thumb in little circles over my temple. “Don’t worry. It isn’t that big a deal. Just a scar.”

I nodded again and focused my attention on the blank TV screen.

“Fuck this.” Jim came over, grabbed Matt’s hands and hauled him up, handed him a crutch and propelled him towards the kitchen. “Go look after your precious bacon.” He sat down in Matt’s vacated spot and studied me for a minute before turning my head by the chin and making me look him in the eye.

“What?” he demanded, holding my face still.

I pursed my lips at him and tried to pull away. He didn’t let me, but instead, pulled me closer and planted a heavy kiss on my lips.

My eyes flew open wide and Matt gasped loud enough to be heard over my suddenly rushing pulse.

Jim pulled away after a minute and studied me again. “Talk to me.”

I shook my head.
Fucking pick now to cry? Idiot.

Jim ran a thumb across my cheek and leaned in for another kiss. This one was far gentler, and his fingers on my jaw softened, caressing away the ache of clenching my teeth together.

“Talk to me, Taylor.”

“P-please let go,” I said softly, practically a whisper, willing myself not shake.

Jim eased himself away a bit, dropped his hand to my chest, and continued to watch me.

“Micky let me read your statement, T. I know he’s your lawyer, but he’s also my brother, and he told me you gave him permission.”

I nodded, dropping my gaze.

“So I know what happened. Why you left your uncle’s place. Luke Driscoll is never getting his hands on you again.”

“He scarred me.”

“Your skin. The rest will heal, if you let us help.”

Lying in the hospital, going over everything Driscoll might have done had Jim not rode in and smashed his face in when he had, going over what he
had
done the first time, I realised I’d done everything I could to bury it and not call it what it was. I’d forced myself back in the saddle, so to speak, and managed to desensitise myself to the truth.

Matt hadn’t let me hide behind that shield, and Jim had seen the cracks even before Driscoll caught me up. And they were both still here. I looked over Jim’s shoulder to find Matt watching me, too, spatula in hand, golden eyes soft, like the rest of him, gentle and firm at the same time.

I nodded, finally, took in a deep breath and wiped a hand over my eyes.

“Okay.” I glanced between them, nodded again. “Okay. Just a scar,” I said, smiling weakly at Matt.

He nodded, smiled back, and turned back to the stove.

I looked into Jim’s eyes again, and I could see the gentleness behind the gruff. I knew it was there. I knew he’d done his own hiding, not letting people in, and when I touched his cheek, he shivered, closed his eyes, and this time, I kissed him. He let me, parting his lips, letting me take the lead, letting me be in charge, and I could feel him trembling under the strain.

“I need time,” I said quietly. “No more shoving me up against a wall. Not yet.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder and tilted his head.

Matt snorted. “Don’t even think it, Jimbo. You know I shove back.”

Jim growled, deep in his throat, and got up from the couch. He was like a huge bear, stalking over, taking Matt’s challenge, and for the first time since Luke Driscoll had tossed me down the stairs, I felt that deep
stirring
of lust in my gut.

For all his trash talk, Matt didn’t resist a whole hell of a lot as Jim approached him, wrapped a thick arm around Matt’s middle and began to suck on the back of his neck. Jim eased the cook away from the stove to the counter in front of the long, low window where morning sun glinted off Matt’s golden mane.

I watched them hump each other, listened to Matt’s moans, and felt my own cock stir as Jim’s hand slipped down into Matt’s pants. It took all of about two minutes before Matt was panting.

“J-Jim…” He shuddered, pushed his hips back hard into Jim’s groin, and Jim leant down to whisper something in his ear.

Matt stiffened, clutching with both hands at Jim’s arms, and cum spurted everywhere. He went a limp in Jim’s embrace, and I found my own mouth a little dry at the sight of him wilting into the big man.

“You’re a complete bastard,” Matt
muttered
.

“Deal’s a deal.” Jim reached over, turned off the stove, and spun Matt around. A wide grin spread over his face as he loosened the tie on his pyjama bottoms.

I expected Matt to drop trou, too, but instead, he dropped to his knees in front of Jim.

So much for shoving back…