Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“We came out here to check and make sure everything was all right,” Vince explained. “I mean, it’s good to keep an eye on all your friends, but with Kurt, you know, after the attack, I never want him to feel uncomfortable with anyone.”
Neither did I.
“It was different before the incident,” Vince added. “I never worried before then.”
“Sure.”
“It’s not like he’s small, and he can defend himself.”
He could. Even more so now, as he’d been taking Tae Kwon Do classes with my… I had no idea how to classify her. With Hannah. My Hannah. A piece of my civilian job, at Sutter Incorporated, was to protect Aaron Sutter’s goddaughter, Hannah Kage. I was her driver, her bodyguard, basically the guy who kept her safe. But that was such a small part of what she was to me, of what she’d become over the years. It felt more like she was the little sister I never asked for but might have actually wanted.
She taught Tae Kwon Do, and in class she had been giving Kurt, along with the rest of her students, select skills that could help them out of tight spots. Just the very basics. The point was not to stand and fight, but to do quick damage and run. Escape was the point, not winning at hand-to-hand combat. But Kurt had wanted to learn more, so he went further, and was now a blue belt. I was happy for him, and even more so for me. The better he was at defending himself, the less I worried. So I understood what Vince was saying. Kurt was no shrinking violet. He would not fall apart if threatened. Not that he had all those years ago. He’d fought like hell then as well. It was the reason he was still alive.
Ten years ago now, Kurt was attacked and nearly killed by a patient. Tobin Wellesley had originally gone to prison, but a year ago, was moved to a psychiatric facility. He was now being treated, and once his doctors were certain he was sane enough to finish serving his sentence, he would be transferred back. From what Kurt told me, Wellesley wanted to return because he didn’t like the drugs and mandatory visits with so many different doctors. He preferred to be left alone. But until he was no longer a danger to himself or others, there was no other option. Kurt, for his part, hoped his former patient received the care he needed. He also preferred him medicated and on the receiving end of mandatory psychiatric therapy. Kurt had hopes that someday Wellesley would fully understand what he’d done. Being a pessimist by nature, I had no such thoughts. I was prepared to disembowel the man if he ever came near the man I loved. And some people said things like that, but when push came to shove, no one could say for certain if they would be able to end another’s life. For me, I didn’t have to guess. I knew. I’d killed men in defense of my country, and in defense of people I was paid to protect. For the man I held in my arms, I wouldn’t even have to think twice.
“Not that Baylor would ever hurt him,” Carson apprised me, returning my focus to him. “But still, whatever he needed to say, like Vince said, why the hell couldn’t the dogs be there? What were they gonna do, come back inside and tap it out for us in Morse code?”
I liked them both, had from the first time I met them.
Kurt had realized after the attack that he needed a complete change of scenery to even begin to heal. Vince had suggested Kurt leave California and move in with him and Carson. They had room in their home in the Gold Coast area of Chicago, and Kurt meant a lot to both of them. After Carson and Vince had changed colleges, Kurt and Vince’s friend Matt Cooksey—who actually worked with Vince now—had been the two people who’d made sure to visit Vince and Carson, and they remained close. I was glad Kurt had people like that in his life.
“It’s funny,” Carson said as we watched Baylor weave toward the house with Kurt beside him. The dogs flanked them, stopping and moving into an alert stance several times, likely concerned with how Baylor was lurching. “When Vince and I first got together and Kurt would visit, I was so jealous because I knew Kurt had a thing for him.”
I glanced at Vince, who shook his head.
“He did,” Carson insisted, slipping a hand around Vince’s neck and drawing him close, tucking him into his side. “But I also quickly put it together that at that time, Kurt had never had sex with a man. It was his interest in Vince, as was mine, that told us both we were bisexual.”