Minder Page 2

  Kir missed Josh, ached for him, though he couldn’t confide that in anybody. He didn’t know what had gone down in Maddie’s cabin last summer, but when he returned from town that awful day, Josh had vanished and Brad lay in a pool of his own blood. In shock, Kir had hung around the lake—he couldn’t stay inside the cabin with Brad’s bloody body—praying for Josh’s return. A week later Maddie showed up and dragged Kir off before the police came and charged him with murder.

  But the police didn’t arrive until a passing hiker noticed a funny smell coming from inside the cabin.

  Kir often wished he’d waited longer, in case Josh had returned later, looking for him. But Josh wouldn’t come back. Kir, like Brad, was a Minder who had forced Josh to his will. Though, unlike Brad, he’d never forced Josh to have sex.

  “Kir? Are you home?” asked Ted.

  Kir jolted back to the present—coffee with Ted—only to gaze into Ted’s brown eyes and find them lacking. Josh’s were the clearest gray Kir had ever seen.

  Kir sighed. “Sorry.”

  “So, your solution is elegant and unorthodox, a fascinating combination.”

  It irritated Kir how Ted liked to lavish praise upon him. It didn’t feel right.

  “I haven’t seen anything like it,” Ted continued. “Did you bring your laptop along to show me?”

  “I don’t have a laptop,” Kir lied. No one looked at his computer.

  “You’re kidding.” For a moment Ted appeared distinctly disgruntled. Then his expression shifted back to amiable. “I don’t suppose you could show me on your computer at home.”

  “I’ll email you.”

  Ted was fishing for an invitation. Again. And Kir did not invite anyone back to his sister’s. Too dangerous. He’d made a point to meet Ted far away from his actual home.

  Today Ted was strangely on edge. Or at least Kir thought it strange. Perhaps Ted worked harder than Kir realized to exude relaxed charm. When Ted responded to Kir’s frown with a big smile that didn’t reach his eyes, all Kir’s alarms went off. Ted might just be weird, or Kir may have missed the mark. He’d been sure Ted wasn’t agency, but maybe Kir had become overconfident in his ability to peg the agent-type.

  The idea made Kir sick, as all thoughts of the agency did. It wasn’t safe to meet anyone, even casually. This paranoia was a burden, though a necessary one, and he had to acknowledge it. Kir felt a pang of regret. Not because he liked Ted. Only because Ted reminded him of Josh. Stupid.

  He had to push Ted away, which Kir hated. It hurt his head and sapped him of energy. He loathed the glazed expression that came over people after he’d forced his words on them.

  “You don’t want to see my computer,” Kir informed Ted, tone as bland as possible. It should have been easy to slip the idea in, but Ted reacted physically, stiffening.

  As if he knew enough to resist. Agent. Kir kicked himself. A fucking agent and he should have fucking known. Who else would want to meet him? Kir’s hands began to shake. He put them under the table where Ted wouldn’t see them.

  Calm, calm. He wanted to disengage without melting the man’s brain, or getting his own blown out. Kir couldn’t even manage a question about Josh because beneath Ted’s disorientation lay terror. Kir could see it in the dilating pupils and blinking eyes. Ted had lost control. An agent’s fear of Minders was a dangerous thing.

  While Ted spaced out from the mild push he was fighting, Kir looked around the room to plan an escape route. Instead of escaping, Kir froze and his mind emptied of thought as he spotted someone staring intently at him from across the room, a someone resembling Josh.

  Couldn’t be. The recognition—real or not—felt like a body blow. Kir’s chest tightened and he darted a glance at Ted, to see if he still sat opposite him, then back to the Josh-clone who shook his head in warning and disappeared behind a bookshelf.

  Kir couldn’t breathe. His eyes stung. Josh? After nine months?

  “Kir?” asked Ted, coming out of his daze. He leaned forward, his expression confused and aggressive. “What the hell is going on?”

  Kir rubbed his eyes. Josh wouldn’t do this to him, play hide-and-seek in a Barnes and Noble. Josh didn’t play games.

  “Why do you look sick?” Ted eyed Kir, suspicion in his words and in the way his body leaned away from Kir.

  “Sick?” Kir managed, worried he might cry. He needed to make Ted lose interest in him, not descend into hysterics.

  After a long pause, during which Ted looked increasingly pissed off, Kir got control of himself.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Kir?”

  “I have to go,” announced Kir. Josh-clone had warned him off Agent Ted.

  “No,” Ted almost shouted.

  Kir had to push, hard. He braced himself for the effort, focusing his mind.

  “Keep your fucking mouth shut,” Ted ordered. Kir heard a metallic click. “Open it again, you’ll have a bullet through your stomach. Nasty wound. I know what you are, you little shit, and what you just did. Swear to God I will pull this if you so much as move those lips of yours.”

  Shit. This was idiot day for Kir. Pressing his lips together, he nodded to acknowledge Ted’s threat and let Ted think he had the upper hand because, no doubt about it, Ted had panicked.

  Kir’s brain was scrambled, but he knew enough to offer no resistance. Ted wanted full control. Agents always did. Submit, submit, until you can escape.

  “Hands on the table, Minder. I know your fucking tricks.”

  What bad timing on Kir’s part, to hallucinate a Josh-clone. Kir didn’t perform well under pressure. He’d fucked up.

  Beads of sweat appeared on Ted’s forehead. Kir might not have to endure another sojourn with the agency. With trigger-finger across from him, he might die.

  Then Ted’s eyes widened, as if surprised. To Kir’s amazement, Ted fell forward, planting his face onto his half-eaten croissant. Blood trickled down his neck. What the fuck?

  The guy at the neighboring table looked over in alarm and Kir said quickly, but with some force, “My friend is just tired. No worries.”

  With an expression of relief, the man went back to reading his newspaper. That he’d been inclined to stay out of things made Kir’s prompt work without a problem.

  Move. Shaking, Kir pushed away from the table and rose, resisting the urge to race out of the building and thus bring attention to himself.

  Halfway through the bookstore, Josh stepped out from behind a bookcase and grabbed his arm. Kir jumped, smothering a cry of alarm.

  “Shh. Keep walking.” Josh dragged a numb Kir along. “I’ve got a car.”

  Under other circumstances, Kir would have been delighted by Josh’s presence, his touch, his attention. Right now, Kir could barely keep it together.

  They made their way out of the store and down the road, before Josh pushed Kir into the backseat of a car and climbed in after him. The car started up while Josh slammed the door shut and Kir looked into the driver’s mirror and recognized an agent-type at the wheel.

  My God. He turned to Josh in anguish.

  “It’s okay.” This new automaton-Josh had no expression on his face or in his voice. “Trey’s helping you. I promise.”

  Agents didn’t help. Josh, of all people, should know.

  “Where’s Ed?” Trey glanced over his shoulder at Josh.

  Ed? Did Trey mean Ted?

  “In Starbucks. Dead,” said Josh. “He pulled a gun on Kir.”

  “Where’s your gun?” demanded Trey.

  “I left it there.”

  “Jesus, that wasn’t necessary.”

  “Yes. It was.”

  “What a waste,” Trey muttered. Through the mirror, he turned his eyes on Kir, then asked Josh, “What’s the matter with him?”

  “He’s in fucking shock.” For the first time, Josh sounded emotional, angry in fact. “He’s not a fucking agent, you know. He’s not used to this shit.”

  “Ooo-kay,” said Trey.

  Josh’s body was al
l muscle now, full of tension, yet in control, a hardness to him Kir didn’t remember. There must have been something in Kir’s expression, because Josh’s face gentled. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

  Kir flushed with emotion—pleasure that Josh had called him babe and uncertainty because Josh’s voice was filled with regret. They stared, and Kir couldn’t reach for Josh because Josh didn’t like to be touched anymore, not since Brad had harmed him.

  “I can’t stay.” Josh’s face, grim again, spoke even more strongly than his words. He didn’t want to be with Kir.

  “You’re leaving now?” Kir supposed he sounded plaintive, but he hadn’t yet wrapped his mind around Josh’s presence, let alone his departure.

  “Before Brad died,” Josh said in a clipped, flat voice, “he primed me to kill you. I don’t trust myself.”

  “You wouldn’t kill me.”

  “I kill, Kir. As you’ve just witnessed.”

  “To save me. You would never kill me. Never.” Kir had to believe that. He loved Josh as he loved no one else.

  Josh jerked his arm in negation. “How the fuck do you know? You don’t know what I am. You think I’m nice.”

  “You are.” Kir didn’t care if he sounded stupid or unsophisticated.

  “Just because you let me fuck your ass doesn’t mean I’m nice.”

  “For Christ’s sakes, Josh, do you mind?” protested Trey from the front seat.

  Josh ignored him. “Don’t confuse sex and love, Kir.”

  “I know the difference,” muttered Kir.

  “I’m a killer.”

  “Let’s not overstate the case here,” said Trey. “You’re pumped after the kill, but I know killers and you’re not one.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Trey. I’m talking to Kir, not you.”

  Through the mirror, Trey looked at Kir. “Do your spells last nine months?”

  Kir hesitated. “They can last longer. If the person is inclined.”

  “Josh, you don’t seem inclined to me,” observed Trey. “In fact, you seem downright protective. You don’t even like me to call Kir a freak.”

  Freak. Well, that was accurate. That Josh had defended him made Kir feel warm inside.

  Josh turned his gray, intense gaze on Kir. “I cannot be around you.”

  “Let Kir take the prime or whatever it is away,” suggested Trey with some impatience. “Then you can stop fussing.”

  “Fussing?” repeated Josh, enraged.

  At the same time, Kir said, “No.” He looked into the pale eyes of this strange agent. “I don’t push Josh. I haven’t, for years. I promised. I owe him that.”

  “Make an exception so he can stay with you.” Trey’s voice was soft and persuasive.

  Kir looked away.

  “Can you override Brad?” Josh demanded.

  “I don’t want to, I don’t need to.” The idea terrified Kir. It had been okay to work his magic on Josh when he didn’t know what Kir could do. But not now. Not after Josh trusted him. Kir felt tainted enough.

  “Can you?” Josh repeated.

  Liquid seeped out of Kir’s eye and Josh looked away, swearing.

  Kir scrubbed his face, hating his weakness. “Do you want me to push you?”

  “Will it work?”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  Josh turned back to him. “Will it work?”

  Kir nodded.

  “Then for God’s sakes take away Brad’s last words.”

  They stared and Kir reached over. Josh hesitated for a moment, then gripped Kir’s hand, his palm warm and rough. Kir never wanted to let go.

  “You don’t want to kill me, Josh.” Kir forced the words, not too hard, but enough for Josh to feel it, for Josh to stay.

  Josh’s gaze became unfocused and Kir felt nauseated. Three pushes in an hour and this third one hurt. Josh’s grip lessened, as if he wanted to retrieve his hand. Kir let go, feeling desolate.

  Josh stared straight ahead. They hit the highway and sometime soon Kir should ask where they were going, but Kir could only think of Josh.

  “I felt it. I should know. It’s happened to me often enough.” Josh turned and read the expression on Kir’s face. “I asked you to, okay?”

  And now you don’t want to touch me, because I’ve messed with you.

  “The prime is gone, right Kir?” Josh needed reassurance.

  “Yes. If it was even there. You killed Ed today, not me. And you didn’t kill me back at the cabin.”

  “I thought about it. I really did. Instead I threw up and drove Brad’s car the hell out of there.”

  Kir nodded. At last, Josh had answered the question Kir had asked himself all winter. Why had Josh left him? But now what would happen? Josh looked so unhappy.

  “Where are we going?” Kir, exhausted, felt dulled by events.

  “A safe house,” said Trey. Kir’s eyes widened and Trey added, “My safe house. The agency doesn’t know about it.”

  “Um, why are you helping us?”

  Trey didn’t answer and Kir looked to Josh.

  Josh settled back into the corner of his seat, far away from Kir. “Trey’s a freak, too. Or so he claims.”

  Chapter Three

  They parted company. In the middle of nowhere, Trey got out and disappeared into the forest. Then Josh drove for ten hours while Kir dozed. Josh feared he still had to guard himself against hurting Kir. The urge was no longer there, but the image he’d found in his mind so many months ago, that of spearing Kir’s heart with Brad’s long knife, haunted him.

  It was only an image. Planted by Brad. Josh had chosen not to act. As if repeating these facts made Kir safer. No, Kir was safe because he had forced Brad’s words away from Josh, leaving him rattled and Kir exhausted.

  They entered the city at midnight and deep within some unexceptional subdivision, Josh drove into the driveway of a rather upscale townhouse. He thumbed the garage-door opener and Kir woke.

  Josh stared straight ahead, pulling into the too-bright garage. He closed the garage door behind them.

  He turned to Kir. “I’ve never been here before. I don’t know that Trey is trustworthy, but after Ed’s little performance, I can tell you Trey didn’t lie when he said you were in danger.”

  Kir blinked at him.

  “Kir?” asked Josh.

  “Let’s go inside then.” Kir, not quite awake, had gravel in his voice. Josh had not forgotten how sexy Kir’s voice was, deep and rich, but now was not the time to remember.

  Josh left the car and Kir followed. They didn’t have much to carry, just Josh’s bag. According to Trey, the townhouse had supplies. Josh hoped it was true.

  He rifled through the kitchen and found lots to drink. Boxed juice, bottled water. As Josh poured himself some water, Kir opened the freezer.

  He turned to Josh. “I’m hungry. Should I throw in one of these frozen pizzas?”

  Noise roared through his head. Josh stiffened in fear, aware of the glass in his hand only after it broke, cutting his palm. Beyond that, he couldn’t think.

  When the noise subsided, Kir was beside him, trying to open Josh’s wet fist while Josh clung to the pain.

  “Josh. Please let go.”

  He breathed in once, then slowly unclenched his fist. The blood ran. Kir’s hands shook, but he took out the large shard that had sliced Josh’s palm. He led Josh to the sink to run water over the injured hand. The cold water soothed. The noise in Josh’s head receded.

  “It’s not a deep cut.” Josh kept his voice even. “I was lucky. Check the bathroom for a first-aid kit.”

  Kir eyed him and Josh nodded encouragement. “I’ll be okay while you get a first-aid kit. I’ll bet Trey has stocked this place well. Just look at the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” Kir dashed away while Josh let the cold water numb his hand. He just focused on that numbness. He needed it.

  Kir was back, touching him, soothing Josh’s frayed nerves with his careful attention. Kir dried the hand with a clean cloth, applied antibiotic cre
am, then gauze and tape. Loosely clasping Josh’s wrist, he drew Josh to a kitchen chair and pressed lightly on Josh’s shoulder until he sat.

  The rules had changed. Last summer, only Josh could touch Kir. Josh’s body had been sensitized by his time as Brad’s Zombie. Josh shuddered at the memory and Kir, misreading Josh’s body language, backed off.

  “No,” said Josh. “I’m just remembering too much. Always a mistake. Brad ate a lot of frozen pizza.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have known. My brain’s slow today.”

  “I can’t eat frozen pizza, that’s all.”

  Kir reached for Josh again, then checked himself. But unlike last summer, Josh, while not exactly the most relaxed he’d ever been, wanted that contact.

  “Come here.” He opened his arms.

  Kir looked at a loss at the change of rules, so Josh stood and pulled Kir into a hug, a little roughly as he remembered Ed and that fucking gun. He wanted Kir safe.

  “Goddammit,” Josh swore into Kir’s hair because he felt too much and he couldn’t explain anything. Kir grabbed him, clutching his back, trembling. Though no calmer than Kir, Josh made shushing noises. There was solace in their embrace. Josh ran a hand through Kir’s thick, tangled hair to calm Kir, to calm himself. Kir’s tears dampened Josh’s neck. He didn’t know how long they stood like that but, eventually, they came to rest their foreheads against each other.

  “Despite my PTSD”—Josh had never wanted PTSD, well who did, but now he had it in spades—“we need to eat and drink.”

  “There’s some kind of lasagna in there.”

  “Perfect.” Josh stepped back before he started kissing Kir. If they made out now, they would never got their meal and Kir needed to eat.

  Kir retrieved a frozen tray of food from the freezer and stuck it in the oven. He poured them both juice and ripped open a bag of popcorn. “Let’s sit in a room with more comfortable chairs.”