Chapter 17
ARCHIE
I don’t get up until Denver’s fast asleep, and even then, I make sure to be very noisy with my body to see if the motion will wake him up.
It doesn’t. It’s later into the evening, but I’m wondering if he’ll sleep until morning. God knows he needs the rest.
I debate about setting my camera up so my phone will alert me if he starts moving around, but in the end, I know he feels safe here, so he’ll probably come looking if he gets up. Though I doubt he will.
The injuries he has are mostly superficial.
My brothers and I have all had so much worse.
But I know he’s in pain, and that’s causing a sensation in me that I don’t like.
It’s itchy and uncomfortable, and I know it won’t be solved with anything except feeling that bastard’s blood dripping between my fingers.
But at least I have a place to start now. Denver has files in his apartment, and if we have a name, then we will have a face to go with it. And there’s nowhere in the world this fucker will be able to hide from me once I know who he is.
I venture upstairs to find the house empty as it usually is during the day. Percy’s still on the case, looking for his missing PI, and Milo’s distracted by the café, so I head into the kitchen and make myself a sandwich as I call my older brother.
“You good?” Percy says when he answers.
“Fine,” I grunt. Talking is strange after not even trying to do it for the entire day. Being with Denver has had so many unexpected soothing side effects. And being voice off with him makes it so much easier to turn my voice back on with my brother. “I have some info.”
“Hit me.”
“I need to go back to Denver’s apartment and go through his stuff. I think there might be some files on his last stalker case there. But I don’t think it’s the same guy.”
Percy’s quiet for a beat, then sighs. “I don’t think so either. This feels weirdly personal, but not like revenge. It’s so obsessive.”
He would know. Hell, we all would know.
Leaving the sandwich on the counter, I start pacing. My body feels a little on edge, and stimming helps, but I know I need to do something more. Something bigger because if I don’t, I’m going to have a meltdown. The last thing I want is for Denver to see me like that.
If he hasn’t run now, he’ll definitely run then.
“What do you need from me?” Percy asks.
I sigh as I let my fingers dance through the air in my favorite, familiar pattern. “Come home and watch Denver so I can go over there.”
“You know, I can go look if you—”
“No. I need to do it.” My voice is a little tight, and if he argues with me, I’m going to lose my words. And my temper.
But Percy knows when to put up a fight and when to let things go. “Alright. I can be home in ten. We don’t have any appointments today anyway, and Milo was making noise about going to talk to the vet who brought that cat back.”
“Cat?”
“The one you took in?” Percy says.
Oh, good. It lived. Which means the vet will too. “Alright. I can be ready to go in ten minutes.”
Percy ends the call without a goodbye, which I’m used to, so I set my phone down and attack my sandwich like it offended me. Eating has always been hard for me. I like about six things total, and even those can be hard to get down.
If it weren’t for the fact that I need food to live—and that I want to live as well—I would have given it up years ago. But I choke it down, then slip back to the basement to find Denver still snoring quietly into my pillow.
His phone is on the nightstand, and I manage to get it in front of his face just enough to unlock the screen before putting my number in it.
On the desk, I yank one of the notepads I’ve stolen from a random funeral home and write him a quick few sentences before leaving it on the pillow, grabbing my keys, and going upstairs to wait for my brother.
The only thing keeping me sane in this whole situation is knowing that I will be able to fix this. That I have the ability and the power to find out who hurt my little rabbit…
And to make them pay for it.
Percy knows me well enough to know he has to show up on time.
He’s three minutes early and doesn’t try to make small talk as I breeze past him and jump in my car.
I make the drive back to Denver’s apartment without paying attention to how long it takes me or the fact that I’m speeding like hell, so it’s a miracle I’m not pulled over.
Percy would probably kill me if I drew the attention of the local law enforcement here. He’s still raging pissed off about the arson at the gym, and it’s a wonder it only cost Charls a few toes.
I wonder if Percy’s going soft.
Pulling into a parking space, I do a quick check to see if I can sense anyone watching. I’ve spent most of my life hypervigilant, so I tend to notice when things feel off, but apart from a murder of annoying crows who won’t stop squawking, Denver’s building seems peaceful.
The door is also locked, exactly the way we left it. It’s not enough to get me to drop my guard, but I don’t think anyone’s been back here. The way Denver’s place was trashed was to send a message, to convey a threat.
He’s not safe there. He’s not safe at work.
He’s not safe anywhere.
But I don’t think whoever is behind this intended to stick around until one of us got back.
Which is a shame, honestly. If they were here, I could take care of the problem now, bury the body, and then I could get back to fucking my little rabbit into oblivion without fear of leaving him on his own afterward.
Tapping my fingers on the side of my jeans, I walk around the living room, peering into little storage cubbies and looking under the couch, but I don’t see any collection of files anywhere.
The same goes for the guest bedroom, and I eventually end up scouring the closet in Denver’s room.
In spite of the mess, I can see it’s very much him.
There’s lace and leather, heels and running shoes, jeans and T-shirts, and formfitting dresses with sequins that are uncomfortable to the touch but gorgeous to look at when I turn them left to right in a ray of sun coming through the window.
It makes me want to watch him onstage again.
The first time I saw him, I was captivated.
He moved like flowing water, danced like he was born to do it.
His fingers are so graceful with his signs.
He carries feminine energy when he’s in drag, which morphs into this soft, caring tenderness when he’s not.
It’s something I’m not used to, but I want to be.
My life has been sharp edges and the iron tang of blood, and I don’t hate it, but it’s never felt like any of it was my choice. I obeyed orders because it was easy. I made cuts because I didn’t care about who was feeling pain.
I let myself stand in the line of fire to protect my brothers because that’s what love always meant for me.
I don’t know that I’m in love now, but whatever this feeling I have for Denver is different. It’s filled with a need for self-preservation because I know that if I got hurt, he would hurt.
And I can’t have that.
I take a breath and carefully lay all of his dresses on the bed, piling the rest of his clothes beside them. I line his shoes up against the wall, ordered by color and by size, then by shape. They’re so…pretty.
Just like him.
When that’s done, the closet is mostly empty save for a handful of shoeboxes that are littered all over the closet floor. They don’t look like they belong there, so I pick them up, and when I reach a pair with some designer logo on them, I hear something rattling around.
The side of the box is torn, and the lid looks like it was thrown on there haphazardly. To an untrained eye, that would look like nothing. To someone like me, I understand it. They left just enough damage to pique someone’s curiosity. They want someone to open this box.
At the bottom are several sheets of paper stapled together and a mug shot.
It’s an arrest record, along with what looks like the first affidavit that was filed. Denver Voss vs Byron Lindon.
Byron Lindon. The stalker. The man who first tormented Denver, and a man I would like to make pay—even if all of this isn’t him.
Dropping to the floor, I take photos of everything, then send them to Percy before tapping his name on the screen and pressing the phone to my ear. I hate the sound it makes when it rings. It makes my skin feel too tight, but he doesn’t let it go on for long.
“You good?”
“Not in danger,” I tell him. “I texted you some photos that I found. Denver’s first stalker.”
“I’ll make a call. Matias should have all the info I need.”
I breathe a little easier. “Is he awake?”
“No,” Percy says. “I checked on him about ten minutes ago.”
That makes me feel better. I want him to heal. I want to be able to touch him again, to take him again, to make him writhe in pleasure. And if there’s pain, I want it to be the kind of pain he’s begging for.
“I’m going to be home soon.”
“Alright.” Percy hesitates, then says, “Depending on what we find, I think I need to call Dad.”
I groan. My father and I have a complicated relationship. He appreciates my work ethic and what I’m capable of, but he also doesn’t understand me. And he’s never tried. He signs, but only after Nico convinced him to learn. Sometimes it feels like Nico is the uncomplicated son he’s always wanted.
If I didn’t love Nico so much, I would have hated him for it.
“He probably won’t hang around,” Percy says softly. “But if you want me to find a place for you to stay while he’s here…”
“No. It’s okay.” I don’t really care. I’m not interested in hiding myself. I never have been, and I never want to. My father can take me or leave me as I am. “If he wakes up, call me.”
“I think he’s going to be out for a few more hours,” Percy says, “but I will.”
That’s all the promise I need. I hang up, then rummage around until I find one of Denver’s large suitcases and very carefully, very meticulously, pack everything that seems important to him. He’d said all of his things felt tainted, but I know him better than he thinks I do.