Love For Hire (2 page)

“What do you want?” he forced out between ragged gasps, his heart beating rapidly.

Fear coursed through his veins. Even when his own father had beaten him bloody, he had never felt the urge to pass out cold from sheer dread. His father might have hurt him, unleashed whatever anger he had onto him, but Jayden had always known he wouldn’t end up dead. Hurt, yes, but dead? No, his father had never tried to kill him.

With these guys, anything could happen, and what brought the fear home was the fact there would be no help coming for him.

Hearing someone like him screaming in a motel room that was rented out by the hour wouldn’t cause anyone any alarm. It was a frequent occurrence. But knowing how dire the situation actually was had the blood in his veins turning to ice.

He needed to keep a cool head; he needed to stay focused, but that was easier said than done!

No answer to his question was forthcoming. Instead, the man in front of him—who was considerably shorter than the man who had picked him up but thinner and baldheaded—smiled evilly. The man reached behind him, pulling a weapon that gleamed in the barely lit motel room, and with wide, fearful eyes, Jayden watched as the blade slowly moved toward him.

They were going to slice him open!

For a moment he was frozen; no muscle in his body was responding to any of his commands. His brain was too jumbled with fear—which was kind of mind-numbing on its own—to choose between the need to run and the desire to launch himself at the man and rip him to shreds. There were too many conflicting demands running through his head, so no actual command managed to reach his limbs. “Frozen to the spot” had never been anything but an expression to Jayden, and he didn’t relish learning how it actually felt now. This was one experience he would’ve gladly done without.

Never before had a nightmare seemed so real. Kind of like the one where he had been rooted to the spot, butt naked, while everyone laughed at him. Back then, although he had struggled with all he had, he hadn’t managed to break the hold of the dream. Sadly, even in his terror, he had known he was in a dream. This, unfortunately, was stark reality.

Time seemed to slow down—yet another phrase he was getting intimately acquainted with. Who the hell had said knowledge was power? Ignorance was bliss! Could he please have his
innocence
back? Right now? The knife was moving toward him in slow motion, cutting through the air. His fierce wish to stay alive, to see his dreams come true, hurled him into motion, breaking the spell he had been under.

“No!” he shouted, putting his entire weight, which wasn’t much, into flinging himself backward. The back of his head connected with the guy’s jaw; there was a satisfying grunt of pain, and the grip on his arms lessened.

The knife was still coming toward him, but the little bit of freedom he had gained from his actions allowed him to throw himself sideways, changing the place where the knife would cut into his body. He couldn’t avoid getting cut, but instead of ending up gutted, he would only get sliced. Still not the preferable outcome, of course, but way better than being dead.

 White-hot pain flared in his side, and the scream leaving his lips could have been described as a cross between a gurgle and the screech of a dying cat. He fell out of the man’s grip, but the pain was so intense that his knees gave way, and when the carpet moved toward him, all he could do was turn sideways and avoid hitting his face on it.

He rolled, clutching at his side, and with an almost lazy detachment, he stared at his fingers. Blood, a vivid bloody red on his fingers. The color was so pretty, so unlike the reds he had worked with so far. His fingers twitched; he wanted to use the color, not let it go to waste. Maybe he could run his fingers along the wall, leave a wide, vibrant red line behind? Kind of like leaving his mark in the world, one final testament.
I have walked these shores, bear witness.
A snort tore itself free from his throat; he couldn’t believe the stupid path his own thoughts had taken.

The vibrant red lost its appeal, his eyes slowly glazing over. The world was falling away one dark dot at a time. His brain, however, was gearing up again. He couldn’t go to sleep; there was something he still had to do!

His forehead creased and a frown marred his pretty face.

Shouts rang through the air, but he barely noticed the commotion around him.

Blond hair drifted into his vision, followed by vivid blue. Blue? Jayden blinked, trying very hard to focus. Yes, blue eyes peered down at him, and for a moment, his lips moved, tugging into a soft smile.

“You’ve got a cute nose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and it was true. The guy was like a blond angel with the cutest nose he had ever seen.

When the blond stranger came closer, the dark dots dancing in Jayden’s vision finally succeeded in claiming world domination. When they took over, darkness was the only thing left. Deep down, though, in the furthest reaches of Jayden’s mind, a puzzle piece that had been missing slotted into place.

Chapter Two

Sunny
warmth on his face, gently stroking his skin… he hummed, stretching languidly, body and mind slowly rising from the darkness of sleep.

His forehead wrinkled, and even only half conscious, he knew something wasn’t quite right. A thought was nagging him, poking at the back of his mind. Where was he? Surely he hadn’t fallen asleep after his last customer. He carefully moved, still halfway asleep, his fingertips grazing the bed sheets. Soft, silken… not his sheets, then, because never in his lifetime would he be able to afford sheets like this.

He couldn’t focus on the thought, though, since the unexpected sunrays kept warming his face, stroking his nose.

And was it daylight already? What was going on?

He shifted again, his body moving carefully, as if in his semiconscious state he was still aware of needing to pay attention to something. But what? His forehead creased, confusion flittering through his mind while he slowly rose even further from the recesses of sleep. He usually slept deeply, and waking up was a chore for him, which was why working at nights wasn’t such a hardship. He stretched his legs, back starting to arch because every morning he liked to pull his body taut like a well-coiled spring before going lax again when he was finally ready to embrace the day.

But not today. Why?

He aborted his movements midarch, body tensing anxiously as he waited for… pain?

Why would he…?

He had gotten stabbed!

The events from the night before crashed over him like a tidal wave. His eyes flew open and then he practically leaped off the bed, totally forgetting about his injury in his nearly mindless panic.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” a strong voice replied from nearby, and suddenly someone was pushing him back down and the light was fading once more, darkness descending yet again.

He idly noted, though, that the reason why it had been so bright, why he had been able to feel so much warmth on his face, was because night had already passed, giving way to the next day. Judging from how high the fiery ball was hanging in the sky, it must be close to midmorning.

He managed a confused sort of sound before passing out again.

When his mind struggled once more to break free from the chains of sleep, he was already aware of quite a few things, making his second awakening in a strange place way less confusing and scary.

Still, his unease remained.

He wasn’t ready yet to open his eyes, though, so he quietly twitched in the bed, noting how the silken sheets were rustling, feeling both cool and warm against his naked skin.

In all his life he had never come across something this sensual, this pleasurable, against his bare skin, and he finally understood what all the big fuss about silk was about.

He hummed in contentment, a soft smile on his face, moving slightly so the soft fabric slid against his bare body once more. He was just about to roll sideways to try and curl up into a tiny ball when strong arms came out of nowhere, restraining him, locking his hands to his sides and keeping him on his back.

Danger
,
danger
, his mind helpfully supplied, and he started struggling, trying to get out of the secure grip that had him pinned to the bed.

Suddenly, the way the smooth cloth moved against his body wasn’t alluring and sensual anymore, it was terrifying, and his struggle only intensified when a sharp grunt above him told him whoever had a hold on him meant business.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Jayden whispered.

“Open your eyes,” the stranger commanded, and just as they had been ordered to, Jayden’s eyes snapped open. Terror surely danced in them, and he slowly focused on a blond man with amazing blue eyes, sitting on the bed next to him, holding him down.

The man looked familiar. For a moment nothing happened, and then the events from last night slotted into place and he made the connection.

The man… Jayden stopped midthought.

Gods, what should he call him? Couldn’t keep calling him
the man
in his head over and over again, and there were only so many references to
the stranger
he could get away with before his head started to ache. He eyed him, gaze getting caught on the sun-kissed blond hair. Blondie—yes, Blondie would work!

His aborted train of thought continued where it had broken off before.

Blondie had rescued him last night. After getting lured to what would’ve probably been his death, this blond avenging angel had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, beating away the dark forces threatening his life.

Yes, Jayden was aware of how dramatic he sounded, but frankly, he didn’t care.

A stab of pain coming from down below reminded him of yet another important fact: his injury. His eyes widened even further, and he tried to twist his neck so he could see where he had been hurt.

The silk sheets, though, pooled around his waist, and only a tiny tip of a bandage on his left side was visible.

“Stop moving,” the guy insisted. “The stitches are all fairly new. I don’t want you tearing them open.”

Jayden blinked, and then he nodded, his body going limp underneath the guy’s grip, and eventually, after a few tense moments, Blondie moved away, removing his hands from Jayden’s body.

Jayden wanted to get up; he wanted to run his hands down his body, reassuring himself everything else was where it should be. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, sending feelers out through his mind, checking to see if he could move all his toes, if his arms and legs were working like they should, if there was any other pain lurking about, waiting for him to stumble across it when he least expected it.

Most importantly, though? He wanted to go home and put last night’s events behind him.

Home might not be much, but it was all he had, and those four walls made him feel safe. And besides, Danny would be there, and Danny, with his mischievous smile and sometimes-crazy comments, always made him feel safe.

He tore his gaze away from the blond god and surveyed the room, fully expecting to still be in the motel room even though the silken sheets should’ve been an indication he was in a different place. His brain was still trying to catch up with what had happened, so it really wasn’t surprising that he was scrambling to keep up.

“Where am I?” he asked slowly, taking in the wide windows, which seemed to be overlooking a vast garden. He strained his ears. Were those birds he heard singing? The place he and Danny had been calling home for a while was in the middle of a really awful part of town, and honestly, Jayden couldn’t recall the last time he had heard birds chirping in the sun. How could he have forgotten what a pleasant sound it was? Distantly, he noted huge trees, probably quite old to have grown into their current size, and for a moment, he stared at them in wonder.
Trees… real live healthy trees.
His fingers itched. He wanted to reach out, capture their unique colors and commit them to canvas for the whole world to see.

The room was fully furnished, but it appeared as if no one was actually using it, because there were no personal items to speak of. On the nearby shelves, only emptiness stared back at him, and it appeared that the easy chair by the window had never been used.

Even without having a look inside the wardrobe, he decided there probably weren’t any clothes in there either. It was made of dark wood, and he was no expert, but it looked sturdy and expensive enough for it to be an antique piece.

The floor was tiled and sparkling and his bed was large and comfortable, big enough to allow room for at least two people to sprawl out in it, should they so desire.

Jayden blinked away some moisture around his eyes, cursing his tendency to let his emotions to run away with him. It wasn’t
manly
to cry easily—at least that was what his father had delighted in telling him—but no amount of his special kind of persuasion to get Jayden to stop had done any good.

The blond man was staring intensely at him. Jayden knew if he allowed his tears to fall freely, it would paint him in a bad light, and for some reason he couldn’t figure out, he wanted Blondie to like him and to respect him. His mind supplied him with the image of a small puppy eagerly wagging its tail, and he immediately squashed the ridiculous notion, because he wasn’t pathetic enough to fall for someone just because they had shown him some kindness.