Runaway Model (15 page)

Bryce could put it together now. After spotting the stalker, Kyle had gone somewhere, probably the martini bar, where he phoned Bryce in a panic. Nigel had seen him going in or just checked everywhere nearby and quickly found him.

He'd taken away Kyle's phone. Kyle couldn't stop him.

And then what?

Kyle must have gotten away that time. They were in a public place, and the predator wouldn't have wanted a public fight.

So Kyle joined the general assembly concert crowd where Nigel made his final try for the boy. Maybe Kyle had already been slipped the drug in the drink at the bar. Maybe it took that long for the effects to set in.

Impossible now to know the exact sequence of events.

"You seen me phone, Bryce?"

"No, Kyle. I'm sorry. I tried to call but I kept getting the out-of-service message. So I can't even make it ring."

Arnold might still have a trace on the phone. If possible, Bryce would have his people get it back for him. But they hadn't been able to manage it just yet.

"I keep wanting to see if I'm on Instagram with Stoney. But that's silly, innit? I'd never forget posing with Stoney."

Oh, honey
. Bryce wanted to wrap his arms around Kyle, but he didn't know if it was the right thing to do. Maybe one of the worst things about an attack like this was the way it made everyone afraid to touch the victim. Afraid to trigger him.

Kyle wasn't quite crying again. But there was a painful glitter in his beautiful eyes.

"I've forgotten the entire concert. Fuck me. The entire concert!"

Bryce touched him awkwardly on the arm. Squeezed it gently, as if Kyle really were his baby brother. "You were given a memory blocker. The doctor said she explained."

"Yes, she told me. It's just... it's a lot to take in. She said someone must have put something in me drink. Whoever did it stole me entire concert. Nigel. Nigel stole me whole concert. I know I was there. But I can't remember fuck-all except for Stoney's eyes. He seemed angry somehow. That can't be right. Stoney's not an angry person. A little sarky maybe, but not angry."

Bryce scooted a tiny bit closer to Kyle. "Do you remember calling me for help?"

Kyle looked blank. "Why would I call you? I hardly know you."

"You saw Nigel. You knew you were in danger."

"And I called you?"

Not only had he called Bryce, but he'd remembered his number well enough to tell Daniels to call him even after he'd lost his phone. Even when he was fuzzy from the drug. Bryce kept thinking about that.

What he felt for Kyle was real. And Kyle felt it too. Whether he was ready to admit it or not.

"It's all right to call on me when you need help." Bryce touched Kyle on the shoulder. A light touch but a meaningful one. "I have a team that can help you. Somewhere inside of you... you must have known that."

"The doctor said Nigel got away."

"Stoney's security was busy helping you get stabilized, and they let Nigel slip through their fingers. They didn't know at first if you'd been given an overdose. Your life was the first priority."

"I'm glad they let him go. If they'd caught him, I'd be the one being deported now. I'm the illegal alien. The runaway. He'd be the concerned adult hunting me down, innit?"

"I'm sorry, Kyle."

"He found out about me and Stoney, and now he'll hunt me whenever I go see Stoney."

You and Stoney.

"I gave up me education. I gave up me country. I can't give up me music too."

"I know, Kyle. I know. We'll figure something out."

***

B
ryce paid Dr. Jacobsen too much money. All in cash. In return, she signed an iron-clad agreement never to discuss the events of the past forty-eight hours.

If she were ever required to testify in court about the assault on Kyle, she couldn't hide behind this document. She'd have to disclose what she knew.

But that wasn't Bryce's concern. The police weren't looking for Nigel. The matter would never end up in court.

Bryce wanted to make sure it wouldn't end up as tittle-tattle in the gossip columns either.

The doctor had left. The pilots were at the airfield, doing whatever pilots do to get private jets cleared for departure.

The four-man army was out investigating some leads, tenuous as they were.

The two of them were alone, just Kyle and Bryce. He'd booked one more night at the hotel, telling Kyle he needed a little more time to recover.

Knowing
he
needed the time to get to know the boy a little better.

But Bryce knew he couldn't make the first move.

Don't push. After what he's been through, you don't dare to push.

He hadn't told Kyle that Stoney had seen the ring. Hadn't described Stoney's reaction. How could he?

He couldn't be the one to break Kyle's heart.

That was Stoney Rockland's job.

I'm so done with eighteen-year-olds
, Bryce told himself. So why was he snuggled in bed with a trembling fanboy who was fixated on a rock star? He held him tenderly but he dared not do more. It was up to Kyle now.

And he chose to move in closer to kiss Bryce at the corner of his mouth. "I won't break, mate," he said.

Bryce opened his lips, just a little. The tips of their tongues fenced each other.
Go slow
, Bryce told himself.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want anybody touching on you after..."

"Nothing really happened, innit?"

Maybe Kyle was right. His hands moved with the same confidence they'd displayed in the limo that time. Amazing how easy it was for Kyle to unbutton and unzip and have Bryce out of his clothes...

Their kisses were deeper now. Genuine soul kisses that lit a fire in Bryce's core. His shirt was gone, and he hadn't even seen it fly away. His jeans were wrapped around his ankles, a brief bondage trap that held him in place as Kyle used both hands to cup the bulge in his briefs.

"I'm not damaged goods, mate," Kyle said. "Don't treat me like I'm made of glass."

"I won't, Kyle. I didn't mean to."

"I'm going to take you. I'm going to prove to you..."

With a tug, Kyle's deft hands pulled away Bryce's jeans. A couple more tugs, and Bryce's briefs were gone too.

Bryce reached for Kyle's clothes, but the boy laughed and danced backward.

"It's all about you right now, love. Let me thank my hero. If you can't keep your hands down, I might have to tie them down."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I'd dare."

Kyle was out of the bed and at the closet. He found the tie printed with the pattern of the pintail ducks.
My lucky tie indeed
, Bryce thought.

"Put your hands over your head," Kyle said. "That's it, love."

The knot he used wasn't necessarily the kindest way to treat expensive silk. But it did very well to secure Bryce's wrists together above his head. He supposed he could have wrestled his way free if he wanted to.

But who the hell would want to? Bryce lay on his back and let it happen.

Kyle kissed a line from the hollow at Bryce's collarbone all the way down to the tip of his swollen cock. He took his time and used plenty of tongue along the way.

Then he pushed himself off the bed again. A maddening tease.

"Fuck... please... Kyle, you can't leave me hanging like this."

Kyle laughed. There was no music playing but he had a natural sway to his tapered hips like he was dancing to a distant beat. He began to shimmy out of his clothes—far enough away from the bed that Bryce could see everything and touch nothing.

The classic European model type. Tall, slender, virtually hairless.

No tattoos. No piercings. No fake tans. No exaggerated lines and veins. Just ivory skin that made you want to lick him like a French vanilla ice cream cone.

A thousand miles away from the tanned faux cowboys Bryce usually met on the oilpatch.

Kyle knew he wasn't going to win any bodybuilding championships. He knew Bryce didn't care. His smile was next-door to an out-and-out smirk.

He knew exactly what effect he was having on Bryce.

Of course he knew. He knew from the inside. Bryce himself had been the one to tease Kyle that night in Vegas.

And turnabout was the sweetest form of sexual revenge.

"You can beg now, mate." Did Kyle say it, or did he purr it? He was using almost the same language Bryce had used on him that night.

Bryce's own voice was a frog's croak. But he couldn't hold back the torrent of words. "Kyle, honey, I am begging. Fuck me, can't you hear me begging? I need it so bad, Kyle. Please, beautiful. Please."

Kyle knew how to use his mouth to slide on a rubber. It was always easiest to perform that trick on a super-erect cock, and Bryce's certainly qualified. But those lips had to be the smoothest he'd ever felt.

How long had Kyle practiced that technique? How could his mouth feel so hot through latex? Bryce could feel... oh God... he could feel... everything.

He almost didn't hear the words still pouring out of his own mouth. His wrists tugged impatiently at the silk tie. His back arched, making his encased cock poke out even taller. "Please, I need you. I need you. I'm begging you. I'm begging you so hard."

He never knew afterward how long he'd had to beg. Five minutes or five hours. It seemed like an eternity, and yet—quite suddenly—Kyle was there on top of him. Close and hot, Kyle swung a long leg over Bryce's latex-coated cock and paused a teasing inch away.

With his right hand he took hold of Bryce's chin and gazed steadily into his eyes. Bryce felt exposed. It was obvious how much he desired Kyle.

But was it obvious that his feelings were more than just desire?

"You're mine now," Kyle said. Still gazing deep into Bryce's eyes, Kyle sat down in just the right place. The long muscles of his tunnel clamped down tight.

***

B
ryce woke to an empty bed. "Kyle? Kyle?" He grabbed one of the hotel's crisp white terrycloth robes and stepped into the hallway.

Maybe Kyle had gone back to "his" bedroom to keep up appearances in front of the staff. Bryce passed through the great room, where a couple of the men from his security team were watching TV with the sound off.

But Kyle's room was empty. Turndown service had left a chocolate on his pillow, but there was otherwise no evidence that anyone had been in there that night.

He went back into the great room. "Where's Kyle?"

The two guards exchanged uneasy glances. "He'll be OK. He got Jake to drive him somewhere. We thought—"

"We didn't want to wake you."

It was a little awkward sometimes—everybody pretending they didn't notice the boss was gay. But that stuff didn't matter right now.

"He said he'd be back before you woke up."

"When did he leave?"

"Less than an hour ago."

Bryce could text Jake, the driver, and find out what was what. But he didn't want to come off as a total stalker control freak. Kyle didn't know him that well yet, and he'd been through a lot.

It took all of his willpower, but Bryce settled for ordering in breakfast and several pots of coffee.

An hour later, Kyle was back, the ostrich-skin messenger bag slung across his chest. Bryce thought he'd lost it somewhere along the way. Now he realized the boy must have stashed it. You wouldn't bring a bag holding thousands in cash, jewelry, and false documents into a crowded concert arena.

"I felt so naked without me phone," Kyle said. He lifted a silver lid and inspected the Belgian waffles complete with strawberries. "I'll be having that with champagne."

"For breakfast?" Bryce asked.

Kyle smiled that crooked little smile. Bryce longed to kiss it off his face. But he couldn't because of Jake, who walked in behind him holding an expensive bottle. They must have stopped at the liquor store as well as... wherever else they had stopped.

Jake met Bryce's eyes and half-shrugged, half-smiled. He'd been charmed too in spite of himself.

At a gesture from Bryce, his staff vanished. Bryce knew at least two of the guards would be watching the door at all times, but they didn't need to do it within earshot of his breakfast with Kyle.

For an eighteen-year-old, he had a light touch with the champagne cork. He didn't squirt a drop, opening it almost with more of a hiss than a pop. There were no champagne flutes, but the bubbles sparkled well enough in the juice glass.

"Some for you?" he asked.

Bryce shook his head. "I'll stick with coffee."

"More for me then." Kyle poured in a bit of orange juice. "There's no health drink like a mimosa in the morning."

They ate and drank in silence for a little while.

Kyle took out the new phone he'd bought and began to play around with downloading apps. "They say my old phone is halfway to China with a new SIM card by now. But they were able to get back my old number."

"That's good," Bryce said. For some reason, the champagne breakfast seemed more awkward than it should have. What was it about the morning after?

Bryce kept telling himself to play it cool.
Don't ask, don't ask.
It was none of his business if Kyle somehow had a friend in Des Moines, Iowa.

The younger man was sipping his mimosa slowly. Despite his expertise at opening the bottle, he seemed new to the fact that champagne in the morning could pack quite a punch.

Don't ask.

But, to his horror, Bryce heard the words coming out of his mouth. "Where did you leave the bag? Seems like something of a risk. Whenever I left things with my friends in my college days, they always helped themselves."

Kyle laughed. "I learned that me first day in Vegas, mate. Of course I didn't leave me bag with me so-called friends."

Now Bryce was really curious.

"Where then?"

"It's easy, mate. Works in any town. Go to the best hotel you know about and find the gay boy at the bell desk and tell him you'll be checking in later. They'll keep your bag safe for you. Even if it turns out you don't get back for a couple of days instead of a couple of hours. See, I tip when I drop off me bag. Most people only tip when they pick up. Too late by half then."