Chapter 85 - Pow Wow
Back at Freeman's, 'headless chookedness' abounds...
Back to Chapter 84
Between the darkness on the street
And the houses filling up with light
Between the stillness in my heart
And the roar of the approaching night
Somebodys calling after somebody
Somebody turns the corner out of sight
Looking for somebody
Somewhere in the night
Tender is the night
When you hold your baby tight
Tender are the motions, tender is the night
'Tender is the Night' Jackson Browne
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=439CsvJERKM
Craig held out a hand for Karl and Vin to precede him up the stairs, and the three of them made their way to his employer's study.
"Just wait a tic while I get you a towel," he smiled at Vin, and turned to Karl, "and... perhaps your shirt, Major?"
Knowing the tension between the two men wasn't something they'd easily deal with alone, Craig didn't tarry, finding Vin's towel from Marton's bathroom in double-quick time and practically running to locate the major's clothing from the room he and Karl had vacated in such a rush earlier.
Craig smiled brightly as he entered the room. The two men appeared steadfast in their ignoring of each other as Vin wiped at his still-damp frame and Karl poured himself a drink.
"Right; here you are, Major Heinz. Let me help you tidy up." He flicked a reassuring look in Vin's direction as he approached Karl. "Why don't you order us some coffee, Vin? The Major and Marton will probably prefer brandy, but the rest of us probably just need something to warm us through and help us think."
Grunting in acknowledgment of Craig, Vin marched over and yanked on the bell pull forcefully. All this dithering was a waste of time; time that was rapidly slipping away, giving that bastard Jackman more of a lead every minute. He flicked a glance to Karl, then quickly away. As good as cold-cocking Sawyer had felt, Karl was right, that hadn't helped get any answers from the smarmy conman.
Thankful for the opportunity to further hide behind his military façade, Karl donned the shirt Craig handed him gratefully. Without looking over he knew exactly where Vin was as his oldest friend moved around the room. He could nearly smell him and feel each breath Vin took. Fanciful idiocy, Karl scoffed at himself, working hard to tamp back down the desire he'd always felt for Vin. It had no place here, especially now when his friendship was desperately needed, not unwanted desires that would only ruin the one good thing in his life.
Craig could feel the tension in the air and knew it was more than just worry for Eric, but he wasn't about to draw anyone's attention to it, or try and force these men to think about what was simmering between them. Not now, in any case, when there were other things to be thinking about. Perhaps once things had settled he could work on them.
As Craig was helping the major adjust his jacket, a soft knock on the door made him turn. Letting Vin answer the door, Craig kept a careful eye on the slim figure of Wang-zu's nephew Xiu-li as Vin towered over the poor boy. Remembering how prettily embarrassed Xiu-li had been earlier, Craig took a few steps towards the door, worried that the slightly fearful expression on the boy's face meant he'd be running away from Vin the moment the bouncer spoke.
But Vin's request for coffee was a lot calmer than Craig had expected, and the boy turned away easily after nodding politely to the order.
Perhaps Cook had been prepared for them, because it barely took ten minutes before the boy was back with a full coffee service and several cups and saucers.
In between Xiu-li's trips, Marg had appeared, fully dressed and ready for action. Craig had to admire her ability to remain cool and in control in such circumstances, and the way she calmly suggested Karl seat himself in one of the comfortable armchairs, as well as ordering Vin to the couch across the room where he and Karl wouldn't have to look directly at each other.
Craig took a seat next to the big bouncer, hoping the warmth of someone he didn't have any emotional ties with would be a calming influence. He hadn't had time to dress himself, and not wanting to miss any of the discussion here once Marton arrived, wasn't about to leave any time soon to do it.
Marg began pouring coffee into cups as soon as she'd thanked Xiu-li and he'd backed quickly out of the room.
"Here," Marg insisted, smiling as she handed a strong black coffee to Vin and then a cream-filled one to Craig, pushing the sugar bowl in his general direction across the small table. "This will help us all, I think. Are you sure you wouldn't like one, Major Heinz?"
"No thank you," came Karl's crisp response as he perched on the edge of the chair.
Vin squirmed in his own seat, needing action, not this semblance of a fucking tea party. Opening his mouth to state that, Miss Marg passed in front of him to take the arm chair adjacent to Karl's. He snapped his lips closed, feeling his face heat as he caught her eye and read disapproval and disappointment in the twist of her lips.
For now, he'd remain calm, but going after that bastard Jackman had better be in the plans soon. Anger and self-loathing for his part in Jackman's deception had Vin shifting again. Then, from Craig next to him heat and the scent of sex-of Karl-filled Vin's senses. Scowling, he took a slurp of the hot black coffee, welcoming the burn of the hot liquid.
"The bas... Jackman's getting away, Miss Marg. We need to go after him now."
"Vin. We will," Karl flicked his eyes that way, then back down to his clasped hands. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he continued. "Why don't you tell Miss Marg what you heard at Jackman's rooming house?"
Marg settled herself in the chair gracefully and took a sip from her own coffee. "Yes, why don't you? Mr. Marton will be here shortly, and we'll work out a plan. Once we have all the facts-including whatever information Mr. Viggo and his Indian companion are able to glean from the stable-we can decide how best to proceed.
"There's no point going off half-cocked." She quirked an eyebrow at him coldly, managing to convey her displeasure for the scene they had all just witnessed. "That won't solve anything. Once we establish how best to deal with things, I'm sure Mr. Marton will have everyone moving quickly enough. This rain will delay Mr. Jackman too-if he has indeed taken Eric somewhere-unless he's a complete fool."
Craig sipped at his own coffee; sure Vin had just moved at least an inch away from him. Perhaps he wasn't the best person to be sitting next to the agitated bouncer after all. The thought that an aura of his recent session with Karl was still surrounding him (especially dressed as he was) suddenly occurred to him and he took a breath. Hopefully Marton wouldn't be long.
"Go ahead, Vin; what can you tell us?" Marg reminded him gently when the bouncer didn't immediately speak.
By the time Viggo and the others made it upstairs, any chuckles over Marton's new name had died down. Far Rider stayed mostly quiet as they finished climbing, his thoughts focused on what came next and the things that needed to be done.
Inside Marton's study, Viggo looked around appraisingly. The tension between Karl and Vin was thick enough to cut with a knife. So obviously things hadn't ended as well as Viggo had hoped they would. There was still a chance things would turn out okay though; this was different than they usually were around each other. It would only be a matter of time before things broke. Then maybe they could finally do what they should have years ago.
Craig was sitting next to Vin on the sofa, however, and Viggo wasn't sure it was worth squeezing in there at the moment. With the way that Vin was near-vibrating, someone would end up getting jabbed. And the only other seat was Marton's, and there was no way Viggo was going to take that. So with a shrug to himself, and a small smile in Karl's direction, Viggo went to stand behind the sofa.
"Did we miss anything?"
Still eyeing Smooth Tongue warily, Wind in the Grass slid to a blank spot along the entry wall. Although Far Rider did not translate, he had the impression both men found Wind's very apt name for the chief of this lodge greatly amusing. As Far Rider moved farther into the room, Wind made himself comfortable by widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest. From the way some of the people in the room were settled onto seats and balancing small beverage mugs it appeared these whites were going to waste much time talking when it could be spent searching for the correct road out of this town.
Oh good God. One step into his study and Marton was ready to march right back out. Vin was twitching and scowling, and the coffee cup in his hand looked close to being squashed into shards. Across the way, Marg appeared calm as she took a sip from her cup, but Marton knew by the set of her head and the way her red tresses seemed to quiver like a flame in a breeze that she was beyond angry. Major Heinz was back to his rod up the arse bearing, and Marton sighed as he moved forward.
"What we are missing is going after that bastard Jackman!" Vin shot up off the sofa like a spring to pace; only Craig's quick thinking saving the-thankfully empty-coffee cup from flying across the room.
"Well, no shit!" Viggo agreed with a snort.
"We were about to hear what you discovered at Mr. Jackman's rooming house," Marg shot back firmly. "Sit down Vin, and continue."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marton waved off Marg's order. "Let him pace. Wearing a hole in my carpet might keep him at a slow simmer, and not risk another explosion, eh?" Although Marton smiled, it did not go all the way to his eyes as he stared pointedly at Vin. A half-abashed lowering of Vin's eyes satisfied Marton, for the moment.
"Be a love and pour me a brandy, if you would," Marton leaned down and spoke lowly into Craig's ear, "Pour one for the major, too. He's looking a little too stiff, and not in a good way, eh?"
Marton moved around to lower himself wearily into his desk chair as Craig did as he was bid and Vin recounted what the landlord at Mr. Jackman's North Beach boarding house told him.
"...The room was cleaned out; well, cleared of all of his gear. The landlord said some street arab delivered a telegram, and had the impression Jackman was recalled home to Australia. Probably was eavesdropping or trying to read the telegram through the envelope," Vin added with an ugly twist to his lips.
"Thank you my love." Marton took the brandy snifter Craig handed him gratefully. Major Karl had already taken a sip of his and his color-though still heightened-looked better, and his shoulders looked a little less tense. "Stay with me." Marton slid a hand around Craig's waist when his boy started to move away. "I need your calm and peaceful nature, now especially," Marton nuzzled Craig's nape to whisper in his ear.
Smiling briefly and shivering into Marton's touch, Craig moulded himself closer to his boss. It was good to be held like this now, with everything so tense, and he was much happier than when he'd been balanced uneasily on the couch next to Vin.
He slanted a glance across the room to where Viggo's Indian brave stood against the wall, his bearing clearly impatient, although he held himself still enough. No doubt he too wished they could just get moving.
Craig couldn't help admiring the man; he hadn't seen a lot of Indians so closely before, and this was his first real chance to study this one properly, although he'd caught glimpses of him in the garden from time to time. He was very handsome, with long glossy dark hair, and an air of mistrust. Having heard of the noises the two Indians apparently made in the midst of sex, Craig couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be with him, and he let his eyes wander from the man's bare muscular arms all the way down his lean body to his moccasinned feet.
"So the landlord knows Mr. Jackman was headed for the next ship back to Australia?" Marton directed his question at Vin as he started scribbling on a piece of stationery.
Karl frowned and set aside the brandy snifter. "The mailship left three nights ago, another shouldn't be due in until next week." Karl frowned, thinking. "I can check with the Brits stationed in the North Bay. Your... uh... partner should have a better idea of commercial ships currently in port. If I leave now, I can telegraph the Officer of the Day..."
"Stay, Major." Marton looked up, exasperation evident on his face. "You can use our telegraph for any communications. I'll be sure to let you know when Sean arrives so you can then make yourself scarce," he sighed, raking a hand through his curls.
"We need to be on the fucking road!" Vin protested, "For all we know that bastard has taken Eric across to Oakland and up-river to catch a train across country!"
"Vin, we will find Eric." Feeling the anguish flowing off his old friend in waves eliminated his own emotional conflicts, Karl stood and crossed to where Vin was pacing like a caged animal.
"Patience my friend." Karl cupped Vin's cheek. "Finding out if they've left the city yet, or what route they may take, will get us farther than running off like a headless chicken."
Keeping a comforting hand on Vin's shoulder, Karl turned to Viggo. "Did you find anything useful outside?"
Moving around the sofa, Viggo carefully edged onto the space vacated by Vin. No matter how pleased he was that Vin and Karl seemed to be making the progress they were, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret when Seanie was mentioned. No matter how much time had passed, it still felt strange that his closest friends were at such odds with each other. If Sean came along on the search, it would make for an interesting-if most likely unproductive-trip.
He glanced over to Wind, and gave a look to alert him that he was going to pass on the information they had gathered. He didn't bother translating what was already said. Wind would only find it rhetorical, and a waste of time.
As he looked back over to Karl, he caught a glimpse of Craig out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he looked again, and yes, Craig was sizing up Wind like he was a piece of meat. Viggo scowled at him, hoping against hope that it was enough to scare him off Wind. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't keen on the two of them fucking.
Finally looking back to Karl, Viggo nodded and shifted in his seat. "We did. I found where Eric fell-there wasn't any blood there, which is a good sign. He was probably drugged the same as Vin, as I don't see any sense in knocking his head in. Or poisoning him, for that matter. I'd put everything I own on Eric being alive, and relatively unharmed.
"We found the tracks of the cart, and which way they were headed. The rain's being a shit though, and making it tough. But thanks to Wind's keen eye, he noticed a flaw in the hoofprints left by Jackman's horse. We should be able to pick it out no problem. Even so, I agree with Vin. We should be on the road."
Not moving from his spot along the wall, Wind in the Grass glanced at each person in turn as they spoke. He had to look away when Young Chief bluecoat soldier touched the other man so intimately. His eyes slid to the lodge's chief and the sex worker on his lap. Wind blinked as the young man's intense blue eyes met his own. Unconsciously he licked his lips, not sure if it was the startling color that made it appear that he was being sized up as a particularly tasty snack.
Wind nearly missed Far Rider's glance his way. Blinking again and mentally shaking his head for the fanciful thoughts about the blue-eyed boy, Wind in the Grass nodded imperceptibly to Far Rider. It seemed the decision makers (Young Chief, Smooth Tongue, and the chief-woman) in the room were receiving Far Rider's information well. Now if they would carry on and make a decision so the search could get underway.
"Good," Karl responded to Viggo, patting Vin on the shoulder once more before stepping away.
"Is there somewhere I can write up a communiqué to the British Naval station?" Karl's question was a little rougher than he intended as he looked over and caught the way Marton absently caressed Craig's skin through an opening in his robe. "If you have no objection, that is."
Now that he had passed on his information, Viggo's mind was turning once again to White Wing, and, to a lesser note, the rest of the household. He shifted in his seat again, and despite the fact that he'd only just sat down, he considered standing again. He glanced from Marton to Marg, then said, "Also, before we get any further along in our plans, can I ask what's going to happen here when we're all off looking for Eric?"
"Major, you can use my office for writing your communiqué, if you'd like to attend to that next?" Marg put in, nodding at Marton. Sean would probably show up at any moment, and for the time being it was probably better if he and Karl didn't meet, going by past behaviour and the current tensions in the air.
Marton lowered his lashes briefly in acknowledgement of Marg's idea, and then turned his attention to Viggo's question. "Once Sean is here, we'll decide who's going on this... mission," he said for want of a better description, "but I won't have any of my boys out of the house. They'll all stay here, and I'm not having any arguments on that."
Naveen might have other ideas if he was finished tending to Sawyer, but Marton wasn't about to risk a single one of them. "I'll need some of the men to stay here, but with Marg overseeing everything, business should be able to carry on fairly much as normal."
He looked around the room, ignoring the scowl Karl seemed to be directing his way; presumably for the way he was touching Craig. Inwardly he snorted to himself. Karl had no rights to Craig; he was Marton's. Letting the thought go as he continued to touch his boy-Craig was such a calming influence, even without saying anything-he mentally assessed who was available for what.
"Warrick will be running some messages for me shortly, but after that, he's be available to help with security here, and with Naveen and Wang-zu... we should be all right even if all of the men present-except Craig, of course-and Sean go."
Turning to Marg again, he said, "Once Sawyer's awake, suggest he stay over for a few nights; just until we get this sorted. He could probably use the rest and I'd be happier knowing we had at least one other man in the place at all times. Tell him it'll help me, rather than suggesting it's due to his health though, won't you?" He quirked a lip at the thought of how Sawyer would react to being cosseted. He'd be much more likely to agree if he thought he was needed.
"Do we know where Dr. Jack got to? He could stay too, if necessary; although..." He trailed off, frowning at Marg. he'd have a word with her later about watching how much he drank, and how much time he spent with Boone too. He still wasn't convinced that relationship was good for the boy.
"Dr. Jack had a patient to see elsewhere, I believe," Marg replied. "I'll speak to him if he shows up tomorrow."
"Good, that'll help keep things on an even keel." Marton nodded. "Now, I wonder where Sean's got to? And Warrick; I need him to get across to see Stokes."
After nodding briskly to Miss Marg, Karl slipped out of the room, and Vin took in a much calmer breath. Fuck! He needed to get himself under control. It was so hard when all he wanted to do was go after that bastard now! He did know on some level that the need burning deep in his gut to pulverize Jackman, as well as his self loathing for his complicity in the rat fink's plans, was why his emotional walls were in tatters.
The flash of longing in Karl's eyes when Mr. Sean's name was brought up cut even deeper to Vin's core. No one else in the room would have noticed; only he knew every nuance of Karl's expressions, especially when his friend thought he was hiding behind his 'military mask'. For just the briefest of moments, Vin could see again the so-young, so-innocent major, eyes golden-green and so in love. A look Vin knew would never see directed at him, and the internal walls he'd built against that pain were shattered at his feet. Choking back a growl, Vin wished he'd been offered a brandy, but after intercepting Miss Marg's frown, Vin thought better of asking for a stiff drink now.
Vin leaned against the closest wall in a semblance of the stance Viggo's young brave was. Of course the brave was not scowling or twitching like he was. Warrick chose that moment to enter, his light green eyes widening as he glanced around.
"Yeah, exciting bunch, ain't they?" Vin groused from his position. He pressed his lips together after receiving a glare from Mr. Marton, and picked up the nearest coffee mug to the sofa. Possibly it had been Viggo's if the lowered brows from that direction was any indication.
"Mr. Sean has arrived; should be down promptly," Warrick announced by way of greeting.
"Good," Marton said, beckoning Warrick closer. "Viggo, I'll assume you may want to have a word with your bride? Now might be a good time. I'll send Warrick to Officer Stokes to see what he can find out about sightings of our 'friend' and his wagon in a moment. Once we have some news from that quarter, we'll be closer to moving for real.
"Vin, calm down," he reminded his bouncer, furrowing his brows. "In this weather it's going to be hard enough to track them. Any help we can get from the constabulary will only be of use. There's only so many ways he can go if he's heading back to Australia. We'll get him; don't worry.
"Now, Warrick, I need you to get across to Officer Stokes." He paused, scrawling on a piece of paper. "Here's the address. As it's late, I expect he'll be home. You may have to wait while he checks his connections, but give him this note." Marton stopped speaking again, writing for a few minutes on a piece of Freeman's stationery, and placing the missive in a matching envelope before addressing it in flowing and beautiful long-hand. "Get back here immediately you have anything of use.
"Obviously, Stokes can telegraph anything that's common knowledge already," Marton addressed the rest of the room, "but I'm not sure I want the police in on this 'officially'. If they get to him before we do..." Trailing off, he was sure he didn't need to voice what they were all thinking about Jackman's punishment. "In any case, it's not far and it'll be more discreet this way. Nick knows we'd rather not have any unnecessary attention on the house. He'll report directly to me--with Warrick's help--and then to Marg once I'm gone."
"You're going too?" Craig asked, looking at his boss in wonder.
Marton patted Craig's knee reassuringly, then pulled him close enough for a light kiss. "We'll need someone to drive a wagon, in case Eric's not able to ride, and if Jackman has any accomplices... it might be best to have a couple of us following behind the main party in case something goes wrong. Ah!" He held up a hand as it seemed Vin was going to say something else, "No, I'm not suggesting it will; all I'm saying is it's best we're prepared."
When the door shut behind Naveen, he waited for a long moment. He didn't move, and barely breathed, until the sound of voices grew too far away for him to pick up. Then, finally, when he was sure they would not be interrupted, Naveen moved to Joshua's side. The side of Sawyer's face was already darkening with an ugly bruise, and it took a great effort to keep from reaching out to try and soothe the ache.
Moving slowly, as if too quick a movement would possibly startle and disturb Josh, Naveen removed the man's shoes and set them next to the bed. He carefully unbuttoned the shirt and worked it over each of his arms, before turning him just enough that he could remove it. Naveen folded it, and sat it on the nearby chair. He considered removing Joshua's trousers as well, but decided to leave them on.
As gently as he could, Naveen moved Josh so that he was cradled against his chest. He ignored the feel of the too-still body against him, and reached underneath Josh to pull the covers out from behind his back. His legs were next, and soon Joshua was laying on crisp, clean sheets. He didn't cover him yet, however.
He lightly dampened a cloth in the wash basin, and cleaned off Joshua's face. Naveen paid extra care to where he had been hit, dabbing carefully at the sore area. Next he tenderly wiped at Josh's neck and chest, hoping that the removal of any grime would make him feel more refreshed upon waking.
Lastly, a glass of fresh water was set on the small table next to the bed, and the covers were pulled over Joshua's form.
Naveen sat on the end of the bed, his hands in his lap, and watched his client. He shouldn't have become so emotional, and didn't want to think of why it was. If this were any of his other clients, or even any of the other whores... Yes, he would have assisted them, but that wasn't what Naveen had done for Sawyer. His fist still hurt from hitting Vin. The entire household had seen that, and seen how he'd acted because of Josh.
Naveen normally found Josh a compelling challenge, but lately he had been less compelling and more irritating. And yet this frustrating, infuriating man continued to drive Naveen to do things he normally wouldn't. But no matter how much Naveen pondered it, he couldn't find any answers. The only conclusion he could come to was that he needed to. Which Naveen, a usually rational person, found all the more unsettling.
He wasn't sure how much time he passed sitting at Josh's feet, listening to his breathing and watching his (even now) handsome face for signs of consciousness. It could have been hours, or minutes. His thoughts kept spinning around, but seemed to just miss the crux of the issue. Whatever the issue was.
It wasn't until Joshua began to move, shifting slightly in near-wakefulness, that Naveen moved from his vigil. Having nothing to say to the man, Naveen felt he was able to leave, confident he was safe and would wake soon. So he slipped away like a ghost into the night; unseen and unheard.
The dream was about as vivid as they got.
Sawyer was naked and standing in front of a judge and jury. The prosecutor was Jack and he was making a very eloquent case for why Sawyer should be flogged. Marton was the judge, and all he did was nod sagely and lick his lips, eyeing Sawyer with those sultry eyes. The whores and staff from Freeman's made up the jury, and all of them were grinning evilly and nodding like they'd already made up their mind.
Sawyer, naked with bound hands, kneeled on the floor in front of them all. As he looked wildly around the room, the judge announced the verdict.
"Guilty as charged."
Vin, as the chairman of the jury, cheered louder than all the rest, and gave Sawyer the most evil look.
Loud steps echoed down the aisle of the court and everyone turned expectantly towards the approaching man. Sawyer blinked hard and looked towards the new person as well.
It was Naveen, looking stunning in purple and black silk. In his hand he held a flogger, and his inscrutable eyes were focused completely on Sawyer. Sawyer's erection throbbed at the sight of his Dom, and he bowed his head in submission, embarrassed as all the whores pointed at his eager cock, laughing and jeering.
He flicked a small glance at Jack, but he was sitting on a chair with a naked Boone on his lap, totally ignoring Sawyer in favour of kissing and fondling his pretty boy.
Sawyer swallowed hard and waited while Naveen drew nearer. Once the man stood directly in front of Sawyer, he reached down and tipped Sawyer's chin upward so he had to meet the Dom's eyes. The jeering went on behind him as Sawyer flinched from the pain of the bruise on his jaw.
Naveen smiled down at him coolly, and then softly caressed his face. Sawyer blinked in surprise at the gentle touch; then everyone disappeared from the background and there was only Naveen.
Naveen.
Cool, collected, mysterious and beautiful Naveen.
Sawyer felt the pain leave him and then, as if by magic, he was untied and laid out on a coolly crisp linen-covered bed, and gentle hands were soothing his pain. He floated, eyes closed, but totally aware of the man taking care of him. Concern and desire swirled around him, taking away all worries, but then suddenly, he was alone.
Taking a deep breath, Sawyer woke up, blinking as the door of the room softly shut. He tried to focus on it but his head throbbed and his eyes wouldn't quite work in the way they should. He closed them again and breathed in once more, sure he could smell the echo of Naveen's normal fragrance, which was strangely comforting.
His heart thudded as he tried to work out why he was sleeping here in the Emerald Room. Why would Naveen have been here with him? They normally conducted their business in the Ruby Room, and he couldn't recall being in a session tonight. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room and made an attempt to sit up.
Groaning at the dull pulse of pain in his jaw, he touched a hand to it and winced.
"Christ."
Finally levering himself to sit at the edge of the bed, Sawyer took in more air, trying to stop his head from spinning. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and blinked at the sight of the ugly bruise on his face.
"Shit!"
What in hell? He'd been hit, and hard. He got up and stumbled across the room to look at the injury more closely. Fuck! He couldn't remember a single thing past coming to Freeman's and sitting down at Dom's table with Warrick. Racking his brain, not a single thing came to him, although he got the distinct feeling that the angry image of Vin in his dream had been more than real. Nothing about that made any sense though. Naveen may well have been here, but clearly he'd left now.
Unable to fathom anything beyond the fact that someone had struck him and he was now wearing only trousers and had probably been brought to the Emerald room by someone, Sawyer frowned at his image and moved to tug the bell-pull. Perhaps a servant would tell him what had happened and bring him some coffee so he could get himself together enough to leave the room.
He managed to find the edge of the bed again, and sat down to wait, pondering the situation further.
Another too-long chappy, click here for part two
Back to Chapter 84
Between the darkness on the street
And the houses filling up with light
Between the stillness in my heart
And the roar of the approaching night
Somebodys calling after somebody
Somebody turns the corner out of sight
Looking for somebody
Somewhere in the night
Tender is the night
When you hold your baby tight
Tender are the motions, tender is the night
'Tender is the Night' Jackson Browne
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=439CsvJERKM
Craig held out a hand for Karl and Vin to precede him up the stairs, and the three of them made their way to his employer's study.
"Just wait a tic while I get you a towel," he smiled at Vin, and turned to Karl, "and... perhaps your shirt, Major?"
Knowing the tension between the two men wasn't something they'd easily deal with alone, Craig didn't tarry, finding Vin's towel from Marton's bathroom in double-quick time and practically running to locate the major's clothing from the room he and Karl had vacated in such a rush earlier.
Craig smiled brightly as he entered the room. The two men appeared steadfast in their ignoring of each other as Vin wiped at his still-damp frame and Karl poured himself a drink.
"Right; here you are, Major Heinz. Let me help you tidy up." He flicked a reassuring look in Vin's direction as he approached Karl. "Why don't you order us some coffee, Vin? The Major and Marton will probably prefer brandy, but the rest of us probably just need something to warm us through and help us think."
Grunting in acknowledgment of Craig, Vin marched over and yanked on the bell pull forcefully. All this dithering was a waste of time; time that was rapidly slipping away, giving that bastard Jackman more of a lead every minute. He flicked a glance to Karl, then quickly away. As good as cold-cocking Sawyer had felt, Karl was right, that hadn't helped get any answers from the smarmy conman.
Thankful for the opportunity to further hide behind his military façade, Karl donned the shirt Craig handed him gratefully. Without looking over he knew exactly where Vin was as his oldest friend moved around the room. He could nearly smell him and feel each breath Vin took. Fanciful idiocy, Karl scoffed at himself, working hard to tamp back down the desire he'd always felt for Vin. It had no place here, especially now when his friendship was desperately needed, not unwanted desires that would only ruin the one good thing in his life.
Craig could feel the tension in the air and knew it was more than just worry for Eric, but he wasn't about to draw anyone's attention to it, or try and force these men to think about what was simmering between them. Not now, in any case, when there were other things to be thinking about. Perhaps once things had settled he could work on them.
As Craig was helping the major adjust his jacket, a soft knock on the door made him turn. Letting Vin answer the door, Craig kept a careful eye on the slim figure of Wang-zu's nephew Xiu-li as Vin towered over the poor boy. Remembering how prettily embarrassed Xiu-li had been earlier, Craig took a few steps towards the door, worried that the slightly fearful expression on the boy's face meant he'd be running away from Vin the moment the bouncer spoke.
But Vin's request for coffee was a lot calmer than Craig had expected, and the boy turned away easily after nodding politely to the order.
Perhaps Cook had been prepared for them, because it barely took ten minutes before the boy was back with a full coffee service and several cups and saucers.
In between Xiu-li's trips, Marg had appeared, fully dressed and ready for action. Craig had to admire her ability to remain cool and in control in such circumstances, and the way she calmly suggested Karl seat himself in one of the comfortable armchairs, as well as ordering Vin to the couch across the room where he and Karl wouldn't have to look directly at each other.
Craig took a seat next to the big bouncer, hoping the warmth of someone he didn't have any emotional ties with would be a calming influence. He hadn't had time to dress himself, and not wanting to miss any of the discussion here once Marton arrived, wasn't about to leave any time soon to do it.
Marg began pouring coffee into cups as soon as she'd thanked Xiu-li and he'd backed quickly out of the room.
"Here," Marg insisted, smiling as she handed a strong black coffee to Vin and then a cream-filled one to Craig, pushing the sugar bowl in his general direction across the small table. "This will help us all, I think. Are you sure you wouldn't like one, Major Heinz?"
"No thank you," came Karl's crisp response as he perched on the edge of the chair.
Vin squirmed in his own seat, needing action, not this semblance of a fucking tea party. Opening his mouth to state that, Miss Marg passed in front of him to take the arm chair adjacent to Karl's. He snapped his lips closed, feeling his face heat as he caught her eye and read disapproval and disappointment in the twist of her lips.
For now, he'd remain calm, but going after that bastard Jackman had better be in the plans soon. Anger and self-loathing for his part in Jackman's deception had Vin shifting again. Then, from Craig next to him heat and the scent of sex-of Karl-filled Vin's senses. Scowling, he took a slurp of the hot black coffee, welcoming the burn of the hot liquid.
"The bas... Jackman's getting away, Miss Marg. We need to go after him now."
"Vin. We will," Karl flicked his eyes that way, then back down to his clasped hands. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he continued. "Why don't you tell Miss Marg what you heard at Jackman's rooming house?"
Marg settled herself in the chair gracefully and took a sip from her own coffee. "Yes, why don't you? Mr. Marton will be here shortly, and we'll work out a plan. Once we have all the facts-including whatever information Mr. Viggo and his Indian companion are able to glean from the stable-we can decide how best to proceed.
"There's no point going off half-cocked." She quirked an eyebrow at him coldly, managing to convey her displeasure for the scene they had all just witnessed. "That won't solve anything. Once we establish how best to deal with things, I'm sure Mr. Marton will have everyone moving quickly enough. This rain will delay Mr. Jackman too-if he has indeed taken Eric somewhere-unless he's a complete fool."
Craig sipped at his own coffee; sure Vin had just moved at least an inch away from him. Perhaps he wasn't the best person to be sitting next to the agitated bouncer after all. The thought that an aura of his recent session with Karl was still surrounding him (especially dressed as he was) suddenly occurred to him and he took a breath. Hopefully Marton wouldn't be long.
"Go ahead, Vin; what can you tell us?" Marg reminded him gently when the bouncer didn't immediately speak.
By the time Viggo and the others made it upstairs, any chuckles over Marton's new name had died down. Far Rider stayed mostly quiet as they finished climbing, his thoughts focused on what came next and the things that needed to be done.
Inside Marton's study, Viggo looked around appraisingly. The tension between Karl and Vin was thick enough to cut with a knife. So obviously things hadn't ended as well as Viggo had hoped they would. There was still a chance things would turn out okay though; this was different than they usually were around each other. It would only be a matter of time before things broke. Then maybe they could finally do what they should have years ago.
Craig was sitting next to Vin on the sofa, however, and Viggo wasn't sure it was worth squeezing in there at the moment. With the way that Vin was near-vibrating, someone would end up getting jabbed. And the only other seat was Marton's, and there was no way Viggo was going to take that. So with a shrug to himself, and a small smile in Karl's direction, Viggo went to stand behind the sofa.
"Did we miss anything?"
Still eyeing Smooth Tongue warily, Wind in the Grass slid to a blank spot along the entry wall. Although Far Rider did not translate, he had the impression both men found Wind's very apt name for the chief of this lodge greatly amusing. As Far Rider moved farther into the room, Wind made himself comfortable by widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest. From the way some of the people in the room were settled onto seats and balancing small beverage mugs it appeared these whites were going to waste much time talking when it could be spent searching for the correct road out of this town.
Oh good God. One step into his study and Marton was ready to march right back out. Vin was twitching and scowling, and the coffee cup in his hand looked close to being squashed into shards. Across the way, Marg appeared calm as she took a sip from her cup, but Marton knew by the set of her head and the way her red tresses seemed to quiver like a flame in a breeze that she was beyond angry. Major Heinz was back to his rod up the arse bearing, and Marton sighed as he moved forward.
"What we are missing is going after that bastard Jackman!" Vin shot up off the sofa like a spring to pace; only Craig's quick thinking saving the-thankfully empty-coffee cup from flying across the room.
"Well, no shit!" Viggo agreed with a snort.
"We were about to hear what you discovered at Mr. Jackman's rooming house," Marg shot back firmly. "Sit down Vin, and continue."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marton waved off Marg's order. "Let him pace. Wearing a hole in my carpet might keep him at a slow simmer, and not risk another explosion, eh?" Although Marton smiled, it did not go all the way to his eyes as he stared pointedly at Vin. A half-abashed lowering of Vin's eyes satisfied Marton, for the moment.
"Be a love and pour me a brandy, if you would," Marton leaned down and spoke lowly into Craig's ear, "Pour one for the major, too. He's looking a little too stiff, and not in a good way, eh?"
Marton moved around to lower himself wearily into his desk chair as Craig did as he was bid and Vin recounted what the landlord at Mr. Jackman's North Beach boarding house told him.
"...The room was cleaned out; well, cleared of all of his gear. The landlord said some street arab delivered a telegram, and had the impression Jackman was recalled home to Australia. Probably was eavesdropping or trying to read the telegram through the envelope," Vin added with an ugly twist to his lips.
"Thank you my love." Marton took the brandy snifter Craig handed him gratefully. Major Karl had already taken a sip of his and his color-though still heightened-looked better, and his shoulders looked a little less tense. "Stay with me." Marton slid a hand around Craig's waist when his boy started to move away. "I need your calm and peaceful nature, now especially," Marton nuzzled Craig's nape to whisper in his ear.
Smiling briefly and shivering into Marton's touch, Craig moulded himself closer to his boss. It was good to be held like this now, with everything so tense, and he was much happier than when he'd been balanced uneasily on the couch next to Vin.
He slanted a glance across the room to where Viggo's Indian brave stood against the wall, his bearing clearly impatient, although he held himself still enough. No doubt he too wished they could just get moving.
Craig couldn't help admiring the man; he hadn't seen a lot of Indians so closely before, and this was his first real chance to study this one properly, although he'd caught glimpses of him in the garden from time to time. He was very handsome, with long glossy dark hair, and an air of mistrust. Having heard of the noises the two Indians apparently made in the midst of sex, Craig couldn't help wondering what it would be like to be with him, and he let his eyes wander from the man's bare muscular arms all the way down his lean body to his moccasinned feet.
"So the landlord knows Mr. Jackman was headed for the next ship back to Australia?" Marton directed his question at Vin as he started scribbling on a piece of stationery.
Karl frowned and set aside the brandy snifter. "The mailship left three nights ago, another shouldn't be due in until next week." Karl frowned, thinking. "I can check with the Brits stationed in the North Bay. Your... uh... partner should have a better idea of commercial ships currently in port. If I leave now, I can telegraph the Officer of the Day..."
"Stay, Major." Marton looked up, exasperation evident on his face. "You can use our telegraph for any communications. I'll be sure to let you know when Sean arrives so you can then make yourself scarce," he sighed, raking a hand through his curls.
"We need to be on the fucking road!" Vin protested, "For all we know that bastard has taken Eric across to Oakland and up-river to catch a train across country!"
"Vin, we will find Eric." Feeling the anguish flowing off his old friend in waves eliminated his own emotional conflicts, Karl stood and crossed to where Vin was pacing like a caged animal.
"Patience my friend." Karl cupped Vin's cheek. "Finding out if they've left the city yet, or what route they may take, will get us farther than running off like a headless chicken."
Keeping a comforting hand on Vin's shoulder, Karl turned to Viggo. "Did you find anything useful outside?"
Moving around the sofa, Viggo carefully edged onto the space vacated by Vin. No matter how pleased he was that Vin and Karl seemed to be making the progress they were, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret when Seanie was mentioned. No matter how much time had passed, it still felt strange that his closest friends were at such odds with each other. If Sean came along on the search, it would make for an interesting-if most likely unproductive-trip.
He glanced over to Wind, and gave a look to alert him that he was going to pass on the information they had gathered. He didn't bother translating what was already said. Wind would only find it rhetorical, and a waste of time.
As he looked back over to Karl, he caught a glimpse of Craig out of the corner of his eye. Frowning, he looked again, and yes, Craig was sizing up Wind like he was a piece of meat. Viggo scowled at him, hoping against hope that it was enough to scare him off Wind. He wasn't sure why, but he wasn't keen on the two of them fucking.
Finally looking back to Karl, Viggo nodded and shifted in his seat. "We did. I found where Eric fell-there wasn't any blood there, which is a good sign. He was probably drugged the same as Vin, as I don't see any sense in knocking his head in. Or poisoning him, for that matter. I'd put everything I own on Eric being alive, and relatively unharmed.
"We found the tracks of the cart, and which way they were headed. The rain's being a shit though, and making it tough. But thanks to Wind's keen eye, he noticed a flaw in the hoofprints left by Jackman's horse. We should be able to pick it out no problem. Even so, I agree with Vin. We should be on the road."
Not moving from his spot along the wall, Wind in the Grass glanced at each person in turn as they spoke. He had to look away when Young Chief bluecoat soldier touched the other man so intimately. His eyes slid to the lodge's chief and the sex worker on his lap. Wind blinked as the young man's intense blue eyes met his own. Unconsciously he licked his lips, not sure if it was the startling color that made it appear that he was being sized up as a particularly tasty snack.
Wind nearly missed Far Rider's glance his way. Blinking again and mentally shaking his head for the fanciful thoughts about the blue-eyed boy, Wind in the Grass nodded imperceptibly to Far Rider. It seemed the decision makers (Young Chief, Smooth Tongue, and the chief-woman) in the room were receiving Far Rider's information well. Now if they would carry on and make a decision so the search could get underway.
"Good," Karl responded to Viggo, patting Vin on the shoulder once more before stepping away.
"Is there somewhere I can write up a communiqué to the British Naval station?" Karl's question was a little rougher than he intended as he looked over and caught the way Marton absently caressed Craig's skin through an opening in his robe. "If you have no objection, that is."
Now that he had passed on his information, Viggo's mind was turning once again to White Wing, and, to a lesser note, the rest of the household. He shifted in his seat again, and despite the fact that he'd only just sat down, he considered standing again. He glanced from Marton to Marg, then said, "Also, before we get any further along in our plans, can I ask what's going to happen here when we're all off looking for Eric?"
"Major, you can use my office for writing your communiqué, if you'd like to attend to that next?" Marg put in, nodding at Marton. Sean would probably show up at any moment, and for the time being it was probably better if he and Karl didn't meet, going by past behaviour and the current tensions in the air.
Marton lowered his lashes briefly in acknowledgement of Marg's idea, and then turned his attention to Viggo's question. "Once Sean is here, we'll decide who's going on this... mission," he said for want of a better description, "but I won't have any of my boys out of the house. They'll all stay here, and I'm not having any arguments on that."
Naveen might have other ideas if he was finished tending to Sawyer, but Marton wasn't about to risk a single one of them. "I'll need some of the men to stay here, but with Marg overseeing everything, business should be able to carry on fairly much as normal."
He looked around the room, ignoring the scowl Karl seemed to be directing his way; presumably for the way he was touching Craig. Inwardly he snorted to himself. Karl had no rights to Craig; he was Marton's. Letting the thought go as he continued to touch his boy-Craig was such a calming influence, even without saying anything-he mentally assessed who was available for what.
"Warrick will be running some messages for me shortly, but after that, he's be available to help with security here, and with Naveen and Wang-zu... we should be all right even if all of the men present-except Craig, of course-and Sean go."
Turning to Marg again, he said, "Once Sawyer's awake, suggest he stay over for a few nights; just until we get this sorted. He could probably use the rest and I'd be happier knowing we had at least one other man in the place at all times. Tell him it'll help me, rather than suggesting it's due to his health though, won't you?" He quirked a lip at the thought of how Sawyer would react to being cosseted. He'd be much more likely to agree if he thought he was needed.
"Do we know where Dr. Jack got to? He could stay too, if necessary; although..." He trailed off, frowning at Marg. he'd have a word with her later about watching how much he drank, and how much time he spent with Boone too. He still wasn't convinced that relationship was good for the boy.
"Dr. Jack had a patient to see elsewhere, I believe," Marg replied. "I'll speak to him if he shows up tomorrow."
"Good, that'll help keep things on an even keel." Marton nodded. "Now, I wonder where Sean's got to? And Warrick; I need him to get across to see Stokes."
After nodding briskly to Miss Marg, Karl slipped out of the room, and Vin took in a much calmer breath. Fuck! He needed to get himself under control. It was so hard when all he wanted to do was go after that bastard now! He did know on some level that the need burning deep in his gut to pulverize Jackman, as well as his self loathing for his complicity in the rat fink's plans, was why his emotional walls were in tatters.
The flash of longing in Karl's eyes when Mr. Sean's name was brought up cut even deeper to Vin's core. No one else in the room would have noticed; only he knew every nuance of Karl's expressions, especially when his friend thought he was hiding behind his 'military mask'. For just the briefest of moments, Vin could see again the so-young, so-innocent major, eyes golden-green and so in love. A look Vin knew would never see directed at him, and the internal walls he'd built against that pain were shattered at his feet. Choking back a growl, Vin wished he'd been offered a brandy, but after intercepting Miss Marg's frown, Vin thought better of asking for a stiff drink now.
Vin leaned against the closest wall in a semblance of the stance Viggo's young brave was. Of course the brave was not scowling or twitching like he was. Warrick chose that moment to enter, his light green eyes widening as he glanced around.
"Yeah, exciting bunch, ain't they?" Vin groused from his position. He pressed his lips together after receiving a glare from Mr. Marton, and picked up the nearest coffee mug to the sofa. Possibly it had been Viggo's if the lowered brows from that direction was any indication.
"Mr. Sean has arrived; should be down promptly," Warrick announced by way of greeting.
"Good," Marton said, beckoning Warrick closer. "Viggo, I'll assume you may want to have a word with your bride? Now might be a good time. I'll send Warrick to Officer Stokes to see what he can find out about sightings of our 'friend' and his wagon in a moment. Once we have some news from that quarter, we'll be closer to moving for real.
"Vin, calm down," he reminded his bouncer, furrowing his brows. "In this weather it's going to be hard enough to track them. Any help we can get from the constabulary will only be of use. There's only so many ways he can go if he's heading back to Australia. We'll get him; don't worry.
"Now, Warrick, I need you to get across to Officer Stokes." He paused, scrawling on a piece of paper. "Here's the address. As it's late, I expect he'll be home. You may have to wait while he checks his connections, but give him this note." Marton stopped speaking again, writing for a few minutes on a piece of Freeman's stationery, and placing the missive in a matching envelope before addressing it in flowing and beautiful long-hand. "Get back here immediately you have anything of use.
"Obviously, Stokes can telegraph anything that's common knowledge already," Marton addressed the rest of the room, "but I'm not sure I want the police in on this 'officially'. If they get to him before we do..." Trailing off, he was sure he didn't need to voice what they were all thinking about Jackman's punishment. "In any case, it's not far and it'll be more discreet this way. Nick knows we'd rather not have any unnecessary attention on the house. He'll report directly to me--with Warrick's help--and then to Marg once I'm gone."
"You're going too?" Craig asked, looking at his boss in wonder.
Marton patted Craig's knee reassuringly, then pulled him close enough for a light kiss. "We'll need someone to drive a wagon, in case Eric's not able to ride, and if Jackman has any accomplices... it might be best to have a couple of us following behind the main party in case something goes wrong. Ah!" He held up a hand as it seemed Vin was going to say something else, "No, I'm not suggesting it will; all I'm saying is it's best we're prepared."
When the door shut behind Naveen, he waited for a long moment. He didn't move, and barely breathed, until the sound of voices grew too far away for him to pick up. Then, finally, when he was sure they would not be interrupted, Naveen moved to Joshua's side. The side of Sawyer's face was already darkening with an ugly bruise, and it took a great effort to keep from reaching out to try and soothe the ache.
Moving slowly, as if too quick a movement would possibly startle and disturb Josh, Naveen removed the man's shoes and set them next to the bed. He carefully unbuttoned the shirt and worked it over each of his arms, before turning him just enough that he could remove it. Naveen folded it, and sat it on the nearby chair. He considered removing Joshua's trousers as well, but decided to leave them on.
As gently as he could, Naveen moved Josh so that he was cradled against his chest. He ignored the feel of the too-still body against him, and reached underneath Josh to pull the covers out from behind his back. His legs were next, and soon Joshua was laying on crisp, clean sheets. He didn't cover him yet, however.
He lightly dampened a cloth in the wash basin, and cleaned off Joshua's face. Naveen paid extra care to where he had been hit, dabbing carefully at the sore area. Next he tenderly wiped at Josh's neck and chest, hoping that the removal of any grime would make him feel more refreshed upon waking.
Lastly, a glass of fresh water was set on the small table next to the bed, and the covers were pulled over Joshua's form.
Naveen sat on the end of the bed, his hands in his lap, and watched his client. He shouldn't have become so emotional, and didn't want to think of why it was. If this were any of his other clients, or even any of the other whores... Yes, he would have assisted them, but that wasn't what Naveen had done for Sawyer. His fist still hurt from hitting Vin. The entire household had seen that, and seen how he'd acted because of Josh.
Naveen normally found Josh a compelling challenge, but lately he had been less compelling and more irritating. And yet this frustrating, infuriating man continued to drive Naveen to do things he normally wouldn't. But no matter how much Naveen pondered it, he couldn't find any answers. The only conclusion he could come to was that he needed to. Which Naveen, a usually rational person, found all the more unsettling.
He wasn't sure how much time he passed sitting at Josh's feet, listening to his breathing and watching his (even now) handsome face for signs of consciousness. It could have been hours, or minutes. His thoughts kept spinning around, but seemed to just miss the crux of the issue. Whatever the issue was.
It wasn't until Joshua began to move, shifting slightly in near-wakefulness, that Naveen moved from his vigil. Having nothing to say to the man, Naveen felt he was able to leave, confident he was safe and would wake soon. So he slipped away like a ghost into the night; unseen and unheard.
The dream was about as vivid as they got.
Sawyer was naked and standing in front of a judge and jury. The prosecutor was Jack and he was making a very eloquent case for why Sawyer should be flogged. Marton was the judge, and all he did was nod sagely and lick his lips, eyeing Sawyer with those sultry eyes. The whores and staff from Freeman's made up the jury, and all of them were grinning evilly and nodding like they'd already made up their mind.
Sawyer, naked with bound hands, kneeled on the floor in front of them all. As he looked wildly around the room, the judge announced the verdict.
"Guilty as charged."
Vin, as the chairman of the jury, cheered louder than all the rest, and gave Sawyer the most evil look.
Loud steps echoed down the aisle of the court and everyone turned expectantly towards the approaching man. Sawyer blinked hard and looked towards the new person as well.
It was Naveen, looking stunning in purple and black silk. In his hand he held a flogger, and his inscrutable eyes were focused completely on Sawyer. Sawyer's erection throbbed at the sight of his Dom, and he bowed his head in submission, embarrassed as all the whores pointed at his eager cock, laughing and jeering.
He flicked a small glance at Jack, but he was sitting on a chair with a naked Boone on his lap, totally ignoring Sawyer in favour of kissing and fondling his pretty boy.
Sawyer swallowed hard and waited while Naveen drew nearer. Once the man stood directly in front of Sawyer, he reached down and tipped Sawyer's chin upward so he had to meet the Dom's eyes. The jeering went on behind him as Sawyer flinched from the pain of the bruise on his jaw.
Naveen smiled down at him coolly, and then softly caressed his face. Sawyer blinked in surprise at the gentle touch; then everyone disappeared from the background and there was only Naveen.
Naveen.
Cool, collected, mysterious and beautiful Naveen.
Sawyer felt the pain leave him and then, as if by magic, he was untied and laid out on a coolly crisp linen-covered bed, and gentle hands were soothing his pain. He floated, eyes closed, but totally aware of the man taking care of him. Concern and desire swirled around him, taking away all worries, but then suddenly, he was alone.
Taking a deep breath, Sawyer woke up, blinking as the door of the room softly shut. He tried to focus on it but his head throbbed and his eyes wouldn't quite work in the way they should. He closed them again and breathed in once more, sure he could smell the echo of Naveen's normal fragrance, which was strangely comforting.
His heart thudded as he tried to work out why he was sleeping here in the Emerald Room. Why would Naveen have been here with him? They normally conducted their business in the Ruby Room, and he couldn't recall being in a session tonight. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room and made an attempt to sit up.
Groaning at the dull pulse of pain in his jaw, he touched a hand to it and winced.
"Christ."
Finally levering himself to sit at the edge of the bed, Sawyer took in more air, trying to stop his head from spinning. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and blinked at the sight of the ugly bruise on his face.
"Shit!"
What in hell? He'd been hit, and hard. He got up and stumbled across the room to look at the injury more closely. Fuck! He couldn't remember a single thing past coming to Freeman's and sitting down at Dom's table with Warrick. Racking his brain, not a single thing came to him, although he got the distinct feeling that the angry image of Vin in his dream had been more than real. Nothing about that made any sense though. Naveen may well have been here, but clearly he'd left now.
Unable to fathom anything beyond the fact that someone had struck him and he was now wearing only trousers and had probably been brought to the Emerald room by someone, Sawyer frowned at his image and moved to tug the bell-pull. Perhaps a servant would tell him what had happened and bring him some coffee so he could get himself together enough to leave the room.
He managed to find the edge of the bed again, and sat down to wait, pondering the situation further.
Another too-long chappy, click here for part two