Chapter Six #2
The Master meant for Terry lunged at Anson who screeched and cowered, falling to the ground and covering his head.
Terry raised the stool to get another shot in, but the wide-eyed attacker whirled around, grabbing it with a meaty paw before it could connect.
He easily wrested it from Terry’s grip and flung it aside, his now-useless weapon crashing into Terry’s studio lights.
“You’re coming with me, you fucking bitch.”
He advanced on Terry who turned and ran toward his house door again.
He’d only made it a few steps before the crazed Master yanked him back by his hair, throwing him to the ground where Terry landed with a grunt.
He glanced up, extending a hand in front of him to ward off any potential blows.
The clear mania in his attacker’s eyes terrified him, but he wouldn’t give up the way Anson had. He’d fight to the death if necessary.
“Yeah, slut. You’re done.” He grabbed Terry by his biceps, his large fingers digging into Terry’s flesh as he struggled. “I was going to keep you for a while, but now I’ll take what I want then dispose of your sorry ass just like the others.”
Others? Oh Jesus. Terry screamed as loud as he could, over and over as the man rendered him helpless, forcing him onto his stomach then wrenching an arm behind him, the pain almost blinding.
“Fuck!” His attacker yelled out, the grip on Terry’s arm loosening.
“Get the fuck off him!”
Terry gasped. Phil! Despite the pain in his shoulder, Terry rolled over to see Phil and his would-be kidnapper wrestling like madmen, flinging each other around the studio, Terry’s backdrops and more lighting fixtures hurtling to the ground as the battle between the two men raged on.
Master Joe pushed himself to his knees with his good hand and Terry’s heart jumped in his throat. He couldn’t let Joe go after Phil too.
Terry scrambled to a standing position, dodging Phil and the other man as they almost flew into him. He whipped his head around wildly, desperate to find something else to defend himself with. Terry caught sight of Anson slinking away right as Phil’s friend Ellery entered the garage.
“Grab him! Don’t let him get away!”
Ellery blinked in confusion, the chaos no doubt unnerving him. As soon as Anson tried to push past him, however, it seemed to jolt him from his trance and he slammed Anson against the door with what looked like his full weight. Joe crashed into Terry mere seconds later and down he went again.
Fuck. Are there no cops in this city?
This time Joe leaned over and clutched the collar of Terry’s shirt in his fist, dragging him upright as Terry clawed uselessly at Joe’s fingers.
“Police! Everyone stop!”
Terry almost sighed in relief, but he was hurled to the ground once more, landing with a smack. He doubted there was enough arnica cream on the planet to ward off what he knew was going to be an epic pain fest in his poor abused body.
More commands from the police, yelling, and general chaos surrounded Terry as the cops got the situation under control. The adrenaline coursing through Terry’s body waned and his strength seemed to disappear as he allowed himself to sink back onto the floor of his destroyed studio.
Phil’s voice cut through his fuzzy mind. “I’m the one who called it in! Please let me go to him.”
Terry’s eyes fluttered as someone lifted his head and placed it across their lap. Phil. He knew his Master’s touch, knew his scent. The combination of Phil and his cologne was clear to him and his heart rate slowed, his breathing evening out.
“Baby.” Phil’s voice cracked. “Stay still. I’ve got you, and the paramedics are on their way.”
“What about you? Did he hurt you?” Terry’s body seemed boneless.
“Shh. I’ll be fine.”
Terry tried to shake his head, but his neck hurt. “Damn.” He swallowed, and the coppery taste of blood was present. Must’ve split my lip when he smacked me. Terry wanted to get up and smack the bastard himself. “M-make sure they check you out too.”
“I will, baby.”
“Promise me. I’d hate to be the one to spank you in front of Gerard.”
Phil chuckled at the end of a choking sob. “Then I’ll be damn sure to obey your orders.”
Terry almost smiled, but the sting from the cut stopped him halfway. “Don’t leave me alone, okay? Not even if they make me go to the hospital.”
The soft press of Phil’s lips to his forehead calmed him further. “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere but by your side.”
Damn right. Terry closed his eyes and drifted off, trusting that Phil would keep his word. Right before he let the blackness take him, it occurred to him: If he could trust Phil in such an extreme situation, then what was stopping him at any other time?
****
Phil had endured the poking and prodding up to a point when the EMTs had arrived. But the moment the other ambulance team had been ready to transport Terry, he’d bolted away amid their cries that they weren’t done with him yet.
Whatever.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so pissed off.
Learning to control his temper because he had anger issues was one thing, but the current circumstances annihilated all that reasoning.
Phil wished the asshole who’d been hurting Terry when he’d burst in—hell, both the assholes—were still available for him to pound on.
“Mr. Watts? One of the detectives would like to go over your statement with you.”
Phil glanced up from where he sat next to Terry’s sleeping form in the emergency room.
The officer who’d interviewed him at the scene indicated to a tall man who stood behind the cop peeking through the privacy curtain.
Phil had known he’d have to tell his story multiple times to the police, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
He sighed with resignation then nodded. If the guy wanted to sit down, he could take the initiative.
Phil wasn’t in the mood for polite, socially mandated pleasantries.
As the detective entered the small area and the officer took his leave, Phil observed Terry.
He hadn’t so much as flinched from the talking.
The nurse had informed him that it was likely Terry would sleep heavily after his ordeal from the combination of a painkiller and sedative.
Predictably, Terry had been quite agitated when they’d reached the hospital.
Phil returned his attention to the detective who, sure enough, had helped himself to the swiveling stool reserved for the doctor’s use.
“Hello, Mr. Watts. I’m Detective Wilson.” The detective extended his hand and Phil begrudgingly took it. “I’d like to go over your statement with you, make sure I have all the facts. I also have a few questions for you.”
Phil arched his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Well I have a few hundred of them myself.”
Wilson nodded. “I’ve no doubt. This has to be shocking for you and your, er, partner.”
Phil managed to keep his eyeroll at bay. “Very. I need to know, is my boy safe? Are those guys locked up?”
To his credit, Wilson’s eyes had barely widened at Phil’s use of the term ‘boy’. Phil wasn’t ashamed of what they were to each other, and given the circumstances, there wasn’t much point in hiding.
“Yes, Mr. Watts. They’re definitely locked up and I don’t think you have much to worry about in terms of their release anytime soon, if ever.”
Okay. This is intriguing. “Call me Phil. Now, why is that?”
“After searching their van, and checking on their many aliases, we have strong evidence that these are the two men who’ve been the subject of an intensive manhunt for several years across the state, with several agencies involved.
I don’t want to upset you, but they’ve been capturing, torturing and murdering young men, typically seeking them out in BDSM circles. ”
Bile rose in Phil’s throat and he struggled to force it back down. His stomach twisted, tears burning his eyes at the thought of what almost happened to his Terry, to his baby. “Jesus. I…” He choked back a sob. “This is incredible. I’ve never read anything about it.”