Whatever the Cost (47 page)

“Why isn’t Jacen telling you anything, and why isn’t he in the damn hospital?” When Liam’s expression only tightens with anxiousness in reply, Joe waves off the queries and takes a deep breath. “Well, okay. I don’t know the whole story either, but I’ll tell you what I do know.”

He explains about Jacen being taken from the restaurant, and about how he could see Jacen’s general location on his phone and used it to follow the black Lincoln, how he tracked it to the alley. Even with the benefit of the app showing Jacen’s general whereabouts, it still took Joe a few minutes to find exactly where he was. Sparing Liam some of the gorier details of the state Jacen had been in at the time, Joe tells his part of it.

“I never remembered to follow up on that stupid phone app; with the whole gun argument, and the whole mess with the phone call with Ryan. But you—thank God for you and your protective instincts. I can’t believe you shot them,” Liam says with awe.

“Yeah,” Joe sighs.

“But why? Why did you follow them? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?”

“Because I trust my daughter. She was really goddamned scared for that boy, and I knew if I didn’t do something, no one was. I didn’t want that on my conscience.”

Liam searches Joe’s face, realizing all at once how close he was to losing Jacen. “I might never have seen him again,” he says almost to himself. “If you hadn’t....”

He hugs Joe spontaneously, hissing, “Thank you! Thank you.” Just as quickly, he steps back, apologizing, “Sorry, it’s just that he’s all I have. And we’ve been afraid of something like this happening for a while now.” Liam doesn’t meet his eyes when confessing the last part.

“You boys got mixed up in some bad business.”

“You could say that.” Flustered, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a rush, then says, “All we wanted was to be left alone so we could have a normal life.”

Joe analyzes Liam’s expression, the blank glassiness of his eyes, and the dark circles around them, as well as the imbalanced mixture of relief and bubbling panic, overlaid with exhaustion. These boys have more than enough to worry about, and he’s intruding, Joe knows, but he’s not done. Not quite yet, at least.

“Can I see him?” Joe asks apologetically. “I can’t explain it; I just need to
see
that he’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “But, don’t expect much from him.”

The apartment is cozier and nicer than Joe expected, filled with personal touches and looking entirely lived-in but well-tended. Jacen is sitting at the counter in the kitchen, slumped over a mug that he has wrapped his hands around. He doesn’t look around when the door opens and they enter.

“Travis,” Joe calls.

That does it. Jacen turns. His face is bruised and stitched together in places, but he’s no longer bloody, which is enough for Joe.

“Huh. So I guess it’s true, then.”

“Do you want some coffee?” Liam offers, trying to be useful, frantic energy still baking from him.

“No thanks. They gave me plenty down at the station. I’ll probably be awake for days from all the damn caffeine.”

Jacen watches Joe carefully, mistrusting, uncomprehending and guarded—more guarded than Joe has ever seen him before. The words “beaten” and “raped” ring in Joe’s head, sounding sterile. Words like that don’t have true meaning until you’ve seen the acts they encompass happening with your own eyes. Echoes of the horrors that Joe saw, and those he most likely prevented, flash red before him, washing out the duller shades of reality. And Jacen sees it happen, but not a shred of embarrassment or shame colors his features. It’s like he dares Joe to judge him or his past.

“This is my fault,” Joe starts, after a too-long silence.

“What?” Jacen blinks, moved to speak at last.

“I’m responsible for you when you’re at work. They just...
took
you,” Joe says in a soft voice, gesturing helplessly.

“They would have taken me from wherever I was. It had—it
has
nothing to do with you.”

“Now it does,” Joe challenges.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“You don’t mean that,” Liam gasps. “If Joe hadn’t followed you and been armed, who knows where you’d be right now!”

“But he did,” Jacen argues sourly. “And now both he and Lily are a part of this, because of me.”

“Hey,” Joe frowns, “I wouldn’t have done it any differently if I had the choice. Well, I might have tried to improve my aim.”

“I had it under control,” Jacen insists.

“Like hell you did!”

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me!” Jacen shouts.

“Tough shit,” Joe says levelly, not backing down. “No man is an island. You aren’t any different.”

“He doesn’t mean it,” Liam says quietly to Joe. “He’s been through a lot, and....”

Joe holds up a hand. “I understand.”

“But you should know how grateful we are.”

“I do. Trust me,” Joe assures him. “Listen, I understand if you’re not interested, but, after you have a couple weeks of paid vacation, I would like you to come back to work.” At this, Jacen turns back to his coffee, bowing his head. “I’d be mad as hell if I lost my chef over this. The police have offered protection for the bistro until after they have this case wrapped, whether you’re there or not, if it makes you feel better about it.”

“Let me think it over,” Jacen mutters.

Liam walks Joe to the door, taking them both slightly out of earshot of Jacen. When Liam appears on the verge of another outpouring of gratitude, Joe deflects it. “You know I never met anyone with a real alias before.”

“Why are you being so cool about this? You should be horrified, disgusted,
afraid
. Most people wouldn’t want to have anything to do with us.”

“I’m not most people. And the way I see it, when you save a life, you become responsible for that life. Jacen, or Travis, or whatever the hell his name is—I’m responsible for him now. I’ll be in touch, whether he likes it or not.” Joe turns, pulls the door open, and glances back over his shoulder at Liam’s sincere expression, and warns, “Don’t say it.”

“Tough shit. Thank you, Mr. Barbara,” Liam tells him.

“You’re welcome, kid,” Joe smiles.

Eventually it’s just the two of them—Liam and Jacen, finally alone. Sure, the police officer is still stationed downstairs, but at least they don’t have eyes on them anymore. Looking like he’s gone twelve rounds with a prizefighter, Jacen finally gives in to exhaustion and admits defeat.

“Goin’ to bed,” he tells Liam who is standing by the window, scanning the street below. “Come with me.”

It’s not a request. Jacen is standing there, hands in his pockets, waiting for Liam and not meeting his eyes.

“I was going to call Val.”

“Call tomorrow,” Jacen says simply. The weight of the day hangs on him, slumping his shoulders, sagging his already haggard expression.

“Okay,” Liam relents.

They get changed out of their clothes. Liam tries not to stare at the bruises on Jacen’s body when he pulls his shirt off, or at his bandaged wrists, previously hidden by long sleeves, or let it show how much they upset him.

“Are we going to talk about this? I need you to talk to me about this,” Liam pleads softly.

At first Jacen doesn’t reply. He stands on his side of the bed, debating his response, or maybe just trying to have one. Maybe the horror of it all clouds out logic and normal thought.

“It could have been a lot worse,” is what Jacen winds up saying. “They’d only gotten started with me. But it doesn’t matter. You’re okay. That’s all I care about right now.”

“Baby,” Liam tsks, aching.

At last, Jacen meets his gaze. There is pain and regret and peace all mixed up there, Liam sees.

“I’m tired, Lee,” Jacen says, beseeching with a look.

Liam gives in. He slides under the covers. Jacen joins him. Usually Liam sleeps on his back, and Jacen on his stomach, but Jacen slides close to Liam, lying on his side. He wraps Liam’s body in an arm, pulling him close, turning him onto his side too. Spooning up against him, Jacen holds on, filling his lungs with the scent of Liam’s skin and hair, getting lost in him.

Surprised, Liam eventually relaxes into the embrace, overlaying Jacen’s arm with his own. There are long minutes of quiet where Liam feels Jacen breathing, his chest rising and falling, his exhales warm over the back of Liam’s neck. It’s nice. He uses it like an anchor to regain a feeling of steadiness with all of the chaos swirling around them. All day long, Liam has been trying to deal with the reality of Jacen’s wounds, and the attack in general, something feared for so long. If he thinks too deeply about it, the sadness will consume him. But touching Jacen, being held so tightly by him, it helps a lot.

When he begins to wonder if Jacen has fallen asleep, Liam hears, very quietly, a hissed whisper, a mere movement of lips by his ear. “I thought I lost you today.” Before Liam can find a way to respond, Jacen adds, “I was so scared that I’d really lost you.”

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere,” Liam tells him.

Jacen buries his face in his husband’s neck, his scent, wracked with fear and relief all at once. Only a few minutes later, Liam is fast asleep. Despite his weariness, for hours Jacen fights to stay awake, savoring the rhythmic breaths of the man in his arms, swearing to God, the universe, and himself that he will do everything in his power to keep him safe.

The day after the attack is a blur. It begins with Liam following through on his promise to call Valery and Yasha. The call doesn’t last long, though. As soon as they get an inkling of what has happened, Valery and Yasha are hanging up, ready to drive up to San Luis Obispo from Los Angeles to check on Jacen. But before they can, Jacen takes the phone and recites a wish list of things from the hardware store for them to pick up on their way. Liam isn’t surprised. He knows that Jacen would just go to the store himself if there were a chance in hell that his husband would let him set foot outside the door of the apartment.

When Yasha and Valery do arrive a few hours later, supplies in hand, they are eventually cleared by the cop still stationed downstairs to go ahead up to the apartment. Jacen, watching his friends’ arrival from a window, is just as determined as he was the previous day to avoid heavy conversation, though he is glad to see them.

Valery, who is carrying the smaller of two bags, and therefore has her hands mostly free, grabs Jacen for a tight hug as soon as she is through the door. Patiently waiting his turn and taking the chance to survey Jacen’s physical condition, Yasha sets down the larger bag from the hardware store. From over his wife’s shoulder, he asks Jacen, “Are you okay?”

Valery examines Jacen’s face with furious concern—the places where the skin is stitched together, the darkening bruises. He brushes her off, disentangling from her embrace, saying simply, “I’m fine.”

Frowning with resentment at Jacen’s dismissive attitude, she exclaims, “My ass! You don’t look fine! What happened?!”

“Yeah, good luck getting an answer on that one,” Liam mumbles, sipping coffee only a few feet away in the kitchen. He’d told Yasha and Valery the basics of the situation over the phone, but had spared them the more unsavory details.

Valery steps back to let Yasha have his turn, and goes to Liam to give him a hug next, as well as ask him how he’s holding up.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Jacen tells Yasha levelly, knowing Yasha’s scowl and what’s behind it. Jacen had crossed his arms as soon as Valery broke their hug. His body language screams his desire not to be touched; his expression is blank and closed off, but Jacen does let Yasha give him a quick kiss on the lips. After a moment, Jacen softens enough to return Yasha’s insistent but gentle hug. “But I do need you to give me a hand with this stuff.”

What Yasha can read from Jacen tells him nothing about what the man’s been through, but everything about Jacen’s desire to spare Liam having to take part in his plans to make their home safer. Beseeching wordlessly, Jacen tries to get Yasha to follow him down the hall, away from the kitchen where Liam and Valery are quietly conversing.

“You’re not
fine
,” Yasha says, his feet firmly planted, refusing to humor Jacen’s desire to deflect attention or discussion.