Devil's Kiss (Sunset Cove #2) (16 page)

After reaching for one of his own fries, Finn chomped down into it and then shocked the shit out of Derek by leaning across the table and asking, “Who are you fucking?”

Derek almost choked on the bite he’d taken of his burger, and reached for his drink to wash it down. “What?”

“You’re seeing someone.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m not seeing anyone, Danny boy. Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re the only one sitting at this table that’s sucked on anything other than a straw in a long time.”

Finn eyed him with suspicion. “You sure?”

“That I ain’t fucking anyone? Yeah.” Derek laughed. “I’m pretty sure.”
 

“Hmm. It’s just that I haven’t heard shit from you in months, and the last time I saw you we barely spoke. I know my excuse is Brantley, so who is yours?”

Jordan Devaney. But not the way you think,
he wanted to say. But how did you tell your friend that you’d been lying to him for so long? Instead he shrugged. “No one, man. Just work and school. This year’s been kicking my ass.”

“Shit, me too,” Finn said, letting go of the inquisition,
thank God.

“Yeah. Gotta say, I can’t wait to be done with school.”

“I’ve still got three years to go after this. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Yeah. You poor bastard.”
 

Derek laughed and finished off his burger. When he was done and scrunching up the paper, Finn asked, “What are your plans after graduation?”

“You know, I really just want to
get
to graduation first. But when I do, I’ve been thinking about opening up my own gym.”

“Really? That’s a fantastic idea.”

“Yeah? You think?”

Finn nodded and then piled his trash onto the tray. “Of course. It’s the perfect job for you. Where are you thinking about opening it?”

Derek grinned at Finn’s enthusiasm. “Slow down over there, would you. I’ve gotta finish school first and work out how the hell a bank would ever give me a loan.”

“True. But cool idea.”

“Yeah, I think so. I’d love to do it down on the beach. You know, like Muscle Beach?”

“Oh, that would be totally hot.”

“Right? All those hot, oiled bodies. Hmm, this is sounding better and better. I’m a fucking mastermind.”

They laughed as they finished off their drinks, and then Finn looked at his watch. “Sorry, I need to bolt. I still have to hit the library to finish up this damn paper that’s due tomorrow before I head to Brantley’s. But this…it was really great. We need to do it again. Soon.”

“Yeah, we do,” Derek said as Finn slid out of the booth.
 

He followed suit and picked up the tray, tossing the trash out. When they got back in the car, Finn asked where to, and Derek pointed him in the direction of the gym. Once there, Finn dropped him off around the back, and just as he was about to drive away Derek looked through the window at his friend.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t. See you soon, Derek.”

“See you soon, Danny boy.”

As he watched Finn drive out of the parking lot he reminded himself that this was what happened as you got older. Things changed and you got busy. Friendships shifted and sometimes even ended, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. At least Finn was still in the same town. Maybe when things were easier, when school was over, they would come back together.

He glanced at the time on his phone. Five o’clock. He was right on time.
 

He turned, ready to head around to the front doors of the gym, but he didn’t get very far—the next thing he remembered was waking up on the concrete where he was curled into a ball.
 

Exactly where his father left him.

* * *

JORDAN SAT OUT on his balcony with his feet propped up on the table in front of him and a glass of sweet tea in hand. It’d just turned five thirty on a glorious Wednesday afternoon and he’d decided to spend the evening relaxing while grading a few final papers he had left for the next day.

He was halfway through his stack when the phone he’d placed on the table started to buzz. When he saw Derek’s number flashing across his screen, he frowned. He thought Derek had work tonight.
 

After placing the paper on the table, he picked up his phone, and hit answer. “Shouldn’t you be at work, young man?”

He grinned, waiting for some smartass reply, but when all that greeted him was silence, Jordan sat forward in his chair, his stomach dropping.
 

“Derek?”

Again, nobody said anything, but this time Jordan heard a shuffling sound and then an anguished groan of pain.

“Derek?” Jordan demanded, and shot to his feet.
 

Fuck.
Oh
fuck.
 

He wasn’t sure how he knew, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew something was terribly wrong.
 

“Derek, talk to me.” He raced inside to his kitchen counter and desperately searched for the keys he knew he’d left there. He checked under pamphlets and magazines, and when he found them, he asked, “Where are you?”

He ran to the elevator, punched the down button, and as the door slid shut he cursed the slow glide of it. He pressed the phone so hard against his ear he was surprised he didn’t break the thing, as he waited for anything from the man at the other end.
 

He prayed the phone wouldn’t cut them off during the descent, then right before the elevator hit the ground floor he heard words that made the air get stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. “Gym. Back of the gym. My father…”

Jordan’s hand shook as he pulled open the car door and slid inside. “Derek?”

When he got no answer, he turned the car on and the cell connected with the Bluetooth. He could hear Derek’s harsh breathing through his stereo, and the sound was haunting.
 

“Derek?”

There was a dreadful gurgling sound, an expulsion of air, then, “Yeah?”

Steeling his initial reaction to freak out, Jordan turned onto the main road and sped down the street like a racecar driver. “You keep talking to me, got it? Don’t you dare hang up. I’m maybe five…six minutes from you.”

More coughing, and Jordan wondered for a second if he should call an ambulance. “Derek? Do you need an—”

“No.” The word was brutal and harsh, then in the silence of his car Jordan heard Derek’s raspy, broken whisper. “Just you.”
 

He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel and nodded. “You got me. Three minutes.”

Jordan zoomed past the strip of convenience stores, and when he got to the turnoff he needed he barely slowed. He entered the lot, and his eyes scanned the area as he drove down the side of the gym to the back—and that was where he spotted him.

Derek was slumped against the brick wall beside the dumpster, and the sight just about broke Jordan’s heart. After putting the car in park, he jumped out and ran to Derek’s side, where Jordan went to his knees and raised his hands, which were now shaking like a motherfucker.
 

Jesus Christ.
Derek’s face was hard to look at. The skin on his cheekbone was split open, blood was oozing from it, and the left eye reminded Jordan of that first day in class. It was swollen and angry, and the actual eye wasn’t even visible. Just the lid, which was triple the size of the right. The left side of his lip was bloodied and split also, and Jordan didn’t know what to do first.

“Derek… I think I need to—”

“No,” Derek grunted, and then leaned to the side to spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. “No hospitals.”

Jordan touched a tentative hand to Derek’s arm. “Something might be broken.”

“It’s not,” Derek argued, and then let out a labored breath. “He knows better.”

“Your father?”

Derek nodded. His arm was wound tightly around his waist, and his long legs were pulled into his body as he leaned his shoulder against the bricks.
 

“Still, we should get you checked—”

“No. You do that and I have to give an address.
Your
address.”

“Derek, I don’t—”

With a monumental effort, Derek pushed off the wall and reached for his shirt with a bloodstained hand. As Derek’s fingers curled into his shirt, Jordan kept his eyes on the damaged face staring up at him.

“No.”

Finally giving in to an urge he’d had since they’d met, Jordan stroked his fingers down the unaffected side of Derek’s face and heard him whisper, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Derek. You called and I—”

“Answered.”

Understanding dawned, and Jordan leaned forward and promised something then that would forever change their lives. “Always.”

Derek took in a shuddering breath and Jordan looked around them. “Do you think you can get to your feet? Or do I need to go and get help from inside? I’m not sure if you realize this, but you kind of outweigh me.”

When Derek’s lips parted on a warped angle to smile, he winced and Jordan apologized. “Shh. Don’t talk
or
laugh.”

“Bossy.”

“Mhmm, and you are in no position to argue. Think you can get to your feet?”
 

Derek nodded and Jordan maneuvered himself so he was on his right side. It was clear from looking at Derek that when he’d taken the initial hit, and likely fallen, it had been on his right side, because while it still seemed tender, his left had taken the full brunt of the attack.

Once Jordan got Derek to the car, he ran around to the driver’s side and buckled in. When he raised his head, he noticed Derek’s right eye falling shut, and instructed, “Do
not
fall asleep.”

“But I’m so tired.”

“No falling asleep, or I’m taking your ass to the hospital.”

“’Kay, professor,” Derek managed, and Jordan put his foot on the gas and headed straight for home.

* * *

DEREK DIDN’T REMEMBER much of the drive back to Jordan’s or the ride up the elevator. But when he was led down the hall and into a room that was not his own, he paused on the threshold and looked toward Jordan, who was over at the balcony opening the doors to let in some air.

When Jordan glanced back at him, concern marred his expression. As he came back to Derek’s side, he reached out a steadying arm and asked, “Are you okay? You need to get off your feet.”

Derek swallowed at the kindness in those brown eyes, and braced himself against the emotions welling up inside of him.
 

Of course Jordan was concerned. Who wouldn’t be when faced with someone who’d just had the shit beaten out of him? That was all this was. But as Jordan placed a hand gently on his chest, Derek couldn’t stop the way his heart ached.

“This isn’t my room.”

“No,” Jordan whispered, and took Derek’s right hand, drawing him farther into the room. He stopped them at the base of the wide bed in the center. “But since I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next”—he looked to the clock on the wall—“oh, twenty-four hours, you are going to be in here, where I can harass you incessantly about whatever comes to mind.”

Derek’s lips pulled into a tight line and the split on his lip cracked open.
“Ow, fuck.
”

“Okay, this is the one time you have permission not to laugh at my jokes.”

Derek grimaced.

“So come on, we’re going to clean you up. Then rest.” Jordan let go of his arm and asked, “You okay on your own for a second?”

Derek gave a nod and Jordan disappeared into the connecting bathroom to flick on a light. When he came back, he took Derek’s hand again. “All right. Let’s go.”

Derek followed him into the bright bathroom, and when his eyes narrowed and he groaned a little, Jordan apologized and moved to the light switch to turn it down.

“You have a dimmer in the bathroom?”

Jordan looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Mood lighting.”

“Only you,” Derek mumbled.

“Oh, hush.” Jordan chuckled when he came back toward him. “Actually, no. Feel free to speak as much smack talk as you like. You get a pass tonight, and it will keep you awake. Now sit.”

Jordan pointed to a chair he must’ve moved into the bathroom, and Derek gingerly took it.

“Okay, let’s get this face cleaned up first.”
 

He watched Jordan move around the bathroom as he gathered a washcloth and cotton balls. Then he disappeared and came back with a first-aid kit and—

“What’s that?”

Jordan looked at the little leather kit in his hand and grinned. “A manicure set. I usually use it for a weekly mani-pedi, but tonight I need the tweezers. You have some gravel in the cut above your eye.”

Once he placed that on the basin and filled it with warm water, he held up a finger and then vanished. As Derek looked around the opulent bathroom, he saw Jordan’s whirlpool tub and decadent shower and pushed aside any images he had of the guy in there. He remembered when he’d moved in and Jordan had told him that he could use either one.
Yeah,
that’d never happened, but fuck, he’d had no problem fantasizing about Jordan in it.

“Okay, mister. I think you should swallow this,” Jordan said, handing him a shot glass full of clear liquid. “Tequila, hopefully, can numb some of the pain but not put you to sleep.”

Derek brought the glass to the non-swollen side of his mouth and tipped his head back. As the fiery liquid burned a blazing path down to his gut, he handed the glass to Jordan.

“I know, but you needed something. This
is
going to hurt.”

For the next half-hour, Jordan washed, cleaned, and meticulously removed gravel from the wound above Derek’s eye, and when he was finished, he gently patted his face dry and took a step back.

“How much do you like this shirt?”

Derek looked down at the black tee he was wearing that had some band’s slogan on the front, then shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Jordan picked up a pair of scissors. “So it’s replaceable?”

Gathering what was about to happen, Derek nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I don’t see you raising your arms anytime soon,” Jordan said, and then reached for the hem of Derek’s shirt and cut a straight line up the center to his neck. As the material parted, Jordan tossed the scissors on the counter and gently pushed the fabric aside.