Jim Ellison crouched down beside the gleaming Harley-Davidson he now thought of as his own, and treasured as a result, meticulously cleaning and tuning the sleek machine which had been tricked out to be as dark, mean and dangerous as its present rider, and, to be fair, as its original rider also. Jim had ‘inherited’ the hog as part of his deep cover assignment after the previous owner, a well-known enforcer, had conveniently gotten himself killed in an out-of-state auto accident. Once painstakingly rebuilt, the bike, like Jim, became part of Cascade PD Vice unit’s most recent and the most ambitious sting operation for some time.
As Jim lovingly polished already gleaming chrome, he listened in to the bragging going on behind him, and his lips tilted in a sardonic sneer as the volume and exaggerated claims rose in direct proportion to the beers being drunk and the quantity of weed being smoked. As Butch, Karl and Blackie each tried to outdo the other in terms of battles won, bitches laid and dope peddled, Jim grinned to himself knowing they weren’t impressing anybody but themselves, least of all the target of their boasting; Denny, aka Denzil P.B. Patterson, leader of the ‘Sons of Satan’ motorcycle gang. (The ‘P.B’ was pure affectation, but in Jim’s opinion ‘Prize Bastard’ seemed appropriate.)
Now Jim, on the other hand, had quickly realised what did impress Denny; the proven ability to act ruthlessly and unquestioningly as ordered, and unfailing loyalty to him and the gang. An air of closed-mouthed menace didn’t go amiss, either, so Jim set himself to provide all of the above, with remarkable success and instinctive and effortless proficiency.
Denny had ruled over his gang for some years now, enjoying low-key notoriety for relatively insignificant criminal activity. But he had recently developed delusions of grandeur, and wanted to graduate to the major leagues in fields such as prostitution, drug distribution and protection with significant success thus far, such that Vice was forced to sit up and take notice and take seriously the threat of an escalation in gang warfare also.
When Jim’s boss, Captain Sullivan, had learned through an informant that Denny was recruiting an enforcer from a sister gang in another state, and that said enforcer had died instantly and unreported (and unlamented, truth be told), Jim was quickly inserted in his place, and had been there ever since.
Vice Detective Jim Ellison was something of a loner and as such, well-suited to this type of operation.
Before joining the PD, he had served his country for several years in the military as an Army Ranger, rising to the rank of Captain, and taking part in a significant number of covert operations before resigning his commission after a particularly badly botched mission which left him the only survivor of his team.
A recognised Sentinel – a person who, through a natural genetic variation was possessed of heightened senses – Jim accepted the fact for what it was, although he had no desire to increase his ability through the use of a Guide. He was well aware that Sentinels who did bond with Guides reported dramatic improvements in range and ease of use, as they could rely on their Guide to ground them as they stretched out with their senses to a remarkable degree. They were safe in the knowledge that they wouldn’t suffer either from sensory spikes, or zone outs which could occur if a Sentinel lost him or herself in one sense to the exclusion of all else.
It wasn’t that Jim didn’t give their claims due credence. He simply hadn’t met a likely candidate who would suit him as a Guide, male or female, and wasn’t really interested in making the effort to search for one. As far as he was concerned, he was a damned good detective anyway, made better by the skills learned during his time in covert ops and a moderate use of his senses.
He was also an impressive specimen of a man, well-suited to roles such as this and happy to utilise his talents to the full to protect the tribe. Standing over 6’ tall, he was buff and handsome in a classically patrician way, although none of the gang would have believed that the cold-eyed and hard-faced expression he automatically wore in their presence could, under happier circumstances, be replaced by a warm and blindingly attractive smile on occasion.
Wiping his hands on a piece of rag, Jim rose to his feet, turning to stroll nonchalantly over to where the other gang members were relaxing in the section of the warehouse known as ‘the Clubhouse’, partitioned off from the main area where various stolen goods and other nefarious products were stored and the bikes were kept. Furnished very basically with old sofas and battered easy chairs, a large refrigerator and drinks cabinet, and with torn out nude centrefolds taped haphazardly on the walls, the only luxury items were a state-of-the-art music and entertainment system, complete with a giant-screen TV.
The warehouse also boasted a fully equipped machine shop and garage area - which was indicative of where their real interest lay.
Moving with the unconscious grace of a large, predatory cat, Jim drew instant attention, although some of it was undoubtedly jealous and resentful in nature. Dressed in his habitual garb of scuffed biker boots, tight black leather pants and an oil-stained muscle shirt that showcased his powerful physique, Jim was aware of the impact he made, even though he was completely free from any hint of narcissism. As far as he was concerned, his body, like his enhanced senses, was simply a tool to be used in doing his job to the best of his ability, and maintained accordingly, not a reason for pride and self-promotion.
Jim, aka Jake McNeil, had been undercover with the ‘Sons of Satan’ for nearly six weeks now, and during that time had easily insinuated himself into Denny’s awareness and approval. Denny now regarded ‘Jake’ as his second in command, much to some of the other members’ dismay and disgust.
Not that they would admit to such feelings openly, of course. The only one who had been foolish enough to do so was now an ex-member; and still recovering from the broken jaw and shattered kneecap received when taken down with ruthless efficiency by the ex-Army Ranger.
*
As Jim reached Denny’s side, he nodded wordlessly as Denny beckoned him to sit; twisting off the cap of the beer he was automatically handed, ready to hear the latest plan in Denny’s campaign.
Of course, since it was a deep cover operation, Jim had no face-to-face contact with his colleagues at the PD, unless in the most dire circumstances. So he relied on technical wizardry to clue his department in on his progress so far, which, in this case came in the form of a tiny transmitter fitted into the earring he wore permanently in his pierced left earlobe. As it was only one-way transmission for the benefit of his handlers, they had come up with a simple code by which Jim could summon assistance if necessary when a verbal request was inappropriate, and to alert the listeners that something important was about to be discussed, since it was impractical for those on the receiving end to concentrate constantly on every word, every minute of the day.
By tapping the earring surreptitiously a set number of times, Jim could send simple messages such as “Listen up, information incoming”, “Deal going down – keep back”, “Deal going down – send units but keep distance” right through to “Operation compromised, extraction needed a.s.a.p!”
Taking a long swig from his beer, Jim casually rubbed along his jaw with his free hand, and tapped gently at his earring to warn his listeners that new information was indeed about to come through.
*
Blair Sandburg sat at the bar of the Blue Lagoon Nightclub, foot tapping in rhythm with the music from the popular local rock band playing live on stage, and grinning at his companions as he listened to one of Suzy’s lame jokes. To look at him, one would have thought that he was his usually bouncy self – he was, after all, frequently compared to the Energiser Bunny – but in actual fact he was running on fumes, and was regretting giving in to his friends’ invitation to join them tonight.
Blair was a grad student and Teaching Assistant at Rainier University working on his doctorate in Anthropology, and although he was well used to burning the candle at both ends, at present he felt like the candle was completely burnt through. Along with a killer teaching schedule, extra classes for his doctoral programme and a paper to submit by the end of the week, he knew very well he should be at home trying to grab a few hours’ much needed sleep. But when Suzy, Mark and Judy invited him out to celebrate Suzy’s birthday, he couldn’t find it in him to disappoint them.
Knowing how tired he was he had offered to be the designated driver, so he was drinking soda in an effort to be sociable without risking a premature trip to the Land of Nod, which would undoubtedly have happened already if he had been tempted to have a beer.
Pasting on an even brighter smile, he allowed himself to be dragged to the dance floor by a faintly tipsy Judy, laughingly ignoring the giggles from Suzy and Mark as he lost himself temporarily in the music, not knowing that hungry eyes were watching from the other side of the room.
*
Unfortunately for Blair, he and his friends had captured the attention of two pretty obnoxious characters; none other than Butch and Karl from the ‘Sons of Satan’, who, along with Jim, had dropped into the club as a diversion on the way back from doing some gang-related business. They had actually been doing a little preliminary negotiating for Denny’s latest potential drug deal – that is, Jim had been doing the talking, because Butch and Karl didn’t have the capability. They looked tough enough, though, as long as they kept their mouths shut, so Denny had no problem sending them along as extra muscle as long as Jim was there to keep them in order.
Having finished their main business, and knowing Denny had shown some interest in the Blue Lagoon for various reasons, Karl suggested they stop in for a few beers on the pretext of checking the place out for Denny, but fully intending to get himself a piece of tail for the night whether ‘Jake’ approved or not. With no good reason to object, Jim reluctantly agreed, so they pushed their way into the dark and noisy interior, making a beeline for the bar.
Now the Blue Lagoon was a popular place, well-liked by a cross-section of society who generally integrated well in the club’s easygoing environment, whether het or gay, couples or groups or even singles wanting an evening out at a venue where they weren’t constantly being hit on by hookers and hustlers – unless they wanted to be, of course.
Like every club, there was a temptation by some of its patrons to walk on the wild side as regards drugs and sex, but the management kept things pretty much under control using enough bouncers and electronic security equipment to keep watch without making the clientele feel overly scrutinised or intimidated.
Denny, however, considered that there was considerable scope for extending his own interests in the club, beginning with a little intimidation and protection scheme to soften things up before moving in with the drug and prostitution rackets....
*
As the three bikers made their presence known as they approached the bar, there was a none-too-subtle shift amongst the crowd of clubbers as they parted to allow the new arrivals through. Although Butch and Karl were threatening enough in their way with their arrogant sneers and loud, crude comments, it was actually Jim who caused the most disquiet, a reaction he was only too happy to engender in his audience under the right circumstances.
Powerful body moving effortlessly with controlled and natural grace, Jim exuded authority and his cold expression and ice-blue stare gave him an air of ruthless menace that was more than enough to guarantee instant service at the bar, however crowded.
As he ordered three beers, he automatically checked out the interior and the customers, surprised to feel a tug of attraction coming from the dance floor. Taking an unhurried sip of his beer, he scanned the gyrating crowd, and homed in on a small, curly-haired man, who was dancing uninhibitedly with a somewhat plain but cheerful brunette. She was gazing at her partner with unfeigned adoration, laughing at his antics and trying to copy them in her turn.
Stretching out slightly with his sight, Jim contemplated the young man, noting the almost too pretty face, with laughing blue eyes, neat, slightly tip-tilted nose and lush mouth, presently stretched wide with a beaming smile to reveal even white teeth, and he realised with a start that the kid was the source of the pull between them. Frowning at the discovery, and hoping that it didn’t mean what he thought it might, Jim determined to try to ignore the boy, trusting that by refusing to act upon the feeling it would disappear once he had left the premises, and the tempting morsel was left far behind.
Deliberately turning back towards the bar to take a further long drink of beer, he became aware of Butch and Karl’s avid interest in the dancing couple, disgusted to hear their lewd comments and seeing the nauseating lust on their faces.
Knowing what they undoubtedly had in mind, he was caught once again in the eternal dilemma facing undercover cops: just how much could you overlook in the name of hooking your prey, even if it meant innocent bystanders getting hurt.
Certainly up until now Jim had managed to bite down on his disgust when Denny and his gang had come down on other victims – hell, he’d had to do some ‘enforcing’ of his own in order to maintain his cover - but then again up until now, they had all been criminals of one sort or another, who at least had some inkling of what they were getting themselves into, and the likely consequences of failure.
What Butch and Karl had in mind would hurt innocent kids simply out for a good time, and Jim wasn’t at all sure how he was going to handle the situation yet. Cursing his companions’ loathsome appetites, he realised he was just going to have to play it by ear, and hope that the situation resolved itself somehow, but wasn’t actually naive enough to think that it was going to happen in any good way.
An hour and two more beers later Butch and Karl had worked themselves up into a fine old frenzy. Although Jim would have preferred just to walk out and leave them to it, uncaring if they got their sorry asses arrested, he knew there was no way in Hell he could leave the unsuspecting victims of their lust completely unprotected.
By now almost completely wiped out, Blair had just about managed to convince his fellow partygoers to leave. Except for Mark – who had drunk considerably more than the others – who slurred that he had no intention of going yet, because the night was still young, and besides, he insisted that Suzy wasn’t ready either, being the birthday girl.
Oh man!” Blair argued “Look, Mark, I have to go, and now! I’m sorry guys, but if you still want me to drive you back, it’ll have to be now unless you want to end up wrapped around the nearest telephone pole!”
Across the room, Jim could hear every word, and his jaw clenched with tension as he willed the group to stay together, because there was at least a little more safety to be had in numbers.
However, Mark wasn’t about to cooperate, and appeared to have won Suzy over also, so the curly-haired guy sighed dejectedly before turning to go only for Judy to tuck her arm under his, plainly only too happy to accompany him. As Mark assured them loudly that he and Suzy would be just fine and would get a cab later, Blair and Judy crossed the room and left the club to make their way around to the parking lot in back, having to negotiate a dimly-lit and trash-strewn alley en route.
Nudging each other gleefully, Butch and Karl followed the pair out into the street, uncaring that Jim was lagging some way behind, because they didn’t particularly want to share with the hard-assed bastard, anyway.
As soon as the young couple had reached the darkest part of the alley, Butch cut round in front of them, leaving Karl to cover their escape as he stepped out to block their path.
Grinning lasciviously from ear to ear, Butch addressed them with false joviality. “Going so soon, kiddies? What say you join me and my friend for a bit more adult entertainment, Huh? You sure look like you could use a good fucking” and he was leering at Blair in particular as he spoke.
“Look, man, you don’t need to do this,” began Blair, pushing Judy slightly behind him.
“Just let us get to the car, and we’ll just forget this ever happened, OK? It’s not worth it, man--”
But he got no further before Butch’s expression turned wholly evil as he replied, “Not a chance, Sweetcheeks! You and your little friend are just what me and my friend could do with right now, so let’s all come back here behind the dumpster and get it on,” and he stepped forward to grab Blair’s arm.
However, he was completely taken by surprise when the little hippy made the first move. Pulling Judy with him, Blair whipped around so fast that he was able to avoid Butch’s clutching hands for long enough to shove into Karl shoulder-first, unbalancing him and allowing Judy to run for the safety of the street with Blair’s cries exhorting her to “get out of here and call the cops” ringing in her ears.
Growling in fury, Karl gripped the lapels of Blair’s jacket, and hurled him backwards into Butch’s waiting arms, which wrapped around the struggling figure like a vice and dragged him literally kicking and screaming into the deeper shadows behind the dumpster.
Slamming his fist into Blair’s unprotected jaw, Karl snarled, “Just shut the fuck up, kid!” before ripping at the stunned young man’s shirt and tee, tearing them enough for him to twist and pinch the tender nipples aggressively before reaching for the zipper of his leather biker pants; hungry to force himself on the still weakly struggling figure.
Butch reached around to unsnap and pull at the young man’s jeans, thrusting cruel fingers into his underwear, fingernails tearing and gouging carelessly at the soft skin of Blair’s belly and groin only to pause as the sound of approaching sirens reached them, shattering their resolve and completely dampening their ardour.
“Well, shit, fucking cops! Bitch must have called them!” grunted Karl as he pulled his clothes together.
Throwing Blair to the ground and delivering a vicious kick to the student’s ribs, Butch gestured to where the bikes were parked.
“Leave him to Jake. He’s being paid to clean up after us. No need to get unnecessary blood on our hands!” he growled, knowing that that was the truth, at least as far as Denny was concerned.
“Pity, though. That kid has some ass! Could have done with getting me a piece of that!”
Karl nodded in sour-faced agreement as he followed in his buddy’s footsteps.
*
When Butch and Karl left in pursuit of the young couple, Jim had followed more slowly, trying to come up with a workable plan of action which would both leave his sleazy companions free for the time being, and allow the young people to get away at least with their lives.
Scanning up and down the street for unwanted intruders, he stationed himself where he could monitor the activity in the alley and give himself a bit of privacy while he quickly tapped out the requisite code for units to be despatched to the club, but to keep their distance until further notice.
Just as he finished, however, the young woman hurtled past him, sobbing in terror, but clearly intent on using her cell to call up help for her friend.
Recognising deep down that it was the boy he was most interested in, Jim was still relieved at her escape, and concentrated on using every last bit of his self-control to refrain from breaking up the attempted assault and ripping Butch and Karl’s miserable heads from their shoulders.
Knowing full well that he couldn’t yet justify jeopardising the bigger upcoming operation without more reason, he hardened himself to the boy’s whimpers and moans of pain and fear, realising all the same that if the imminent rape and probable murder looked likely to be accomplished before the units made their presence known, then he was going to have to break his cover.
As it happened, he was saved from making the choice by the sound of approaching sirens, but as he quickly ran up the alley, he realised that the units were actually coming far closer than agreed, so that they were probably responding instead to the girl’s 911 call rather than his own summons, and would undoubtedly come right to the club.
Swearing under his breath and knowing they had little time, Jim barked at his fellow gang members, snapping, “Get out of here, you dumbshits! I’ll clean up this mess, and I’m sure going to look forward to what Denny’s going to say about this! Fucking morons!” and he turned his back on them in dismissal, already concentrating on the figure sprawled at his feet.
Pushing himself up on one elbow, Blair tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the blood streaming down his face from a scalp wound high up in his hairline, then looked up shakily to see another giant figure looming over him; one who was far more menacing in his silence and tightly-controlled demeanour than the two thugs who had just attacked him.
“Oh no! Please, man, don’t! Don’t kill me! I didn’t see anything, OK? Please, man!” and he tried to scuttle backwards using hands and heels, only to come up hard against the dumpster’s side.
Quickly squatting down beside the distraught man, who was now crying in pain and obviously in terror of his life, Jim raised a finger swiftly to his lips, indicating silence, even as he reached with his free hand for the young man’s shoulder, finding and squeezing the exact pressure point with the ease of long practice enough to render his victim unconscious. As Blair slid to the ground, Jim was immediately aware of the tingle, rather like a mild electric current, that spread up his arm from the hand still touching the sturdy shoulder, so with a perplexed frown, he quickly let go.
With an almost soundless murmur of, “Sorry Chief, but it’s better than being dead!” he stood quickly and strode to his bike, starting up with a roar, and escaping in his companions’ wake, weaving in and out of the back alleys and so preventing any attempt at tailing them back to the gang HQ on Grant and Jefferson.
*
Blair sat despondently on the gurney in his examination cubicle, exhausted almost beyond the point of actual sleep, and just wanting to get home to his draughty old warehouse and curl up for the next 100 years or so.
The doctor who had examined him on arrival had been sympathetic but too busy to spend any more time than necessary patching up his admittedly superficial cuts and bruises. He did have to put three stitches in the cut on Blair’s scalp, probably caused by falling onto a sharp piece of garbage rather than inflicted by his attackers. That prompted a tetanus shot that Blair could have done without, and then a uniformed police officer had arrived to take his preliminary statement and collect his ruined and bagged up clothing for forensic analysis.
Although the doctor had shown some concern about the fact that Blair had been unconscious when help had arrived, Blair had implied that he’d probably just passed out from the shock, macho image be damned. It wasn’t entirely untrue anyway, because he really was pretty confused about what had happened when the third biker had appeared, and he definitely couldn’t afford to spend a night in the hospital under observation. He was worried enough about whether his puny medical insurance package would even cover his treatment so far.
Now dressed in scrubs and paper slippers, Blair awaited his discharge papers, hoping against hope that the young police officer meant it when he had offered to give Blair a lift home, because there was no way he was capable of retrieving his old car from the Blue Lagoon’s parking lot until he’d gotten some rest and his throbbing headache had dimmed somewhat. And he wasn’t going to mention the slightly blurred vision, either.
Almost hysterical thinking Blair was dead, once the police and ambulance had arrived Judy had clung to him, grateful that he had survived, and even more so for what she perceived as his heroism in giving her the opportunity to escape. It was only after lots of persuasion from Blair himself once he had woken up to find himself in the back of the ambulance that she reluctantly accepted a ride home with another unit, having promised to come see him tomorrow, and go with him to give her own statement at the PD.
Sighing deeply at the memory of her genuine concern, his weary brain contemplated a further complication in his already too complicated life – that of Judy’s open infatuation with him.
True, she was great company: bright, funny, and a good conversationalist, but there was simply no chemistry between them – at least on Blair’s side. She was no oil painting, to be sure, but that had absolutely no bearing on the problem, since Blair had little or no pretension on that account as regards his own appearance, perceiving himself as a short, skinny, hairy Jewish brainiac who talked too much and got on people’s nerves after a while.
No, he decided. He would just have to be honest with her as to how he felt, and pray that she wouldn’t be too upset. He simply would not take advantage of her obvious desire to sleep with him, even if it meant hurting her feelings, because he truly valued her as a friend if not potential lover.
Wearily shelving the problem as the young police officer approached, along with the nurse who had his release forms, he slid gratefully off the gurney and accepted the offer of a lift, promising faithfully that he would come to the PD by late morning to give his full statement.
*
As Jim had anticipated, Denny was blazing mad.
Having heard the whole sorry tale about the attempted rape at the Blue Lagoon, he had erupted in a truly spectacular fashion, hurling his full beer bottle at Butch and grabbing the hapless Karl round the neck, squeezing hard and shaking him like a rag doll. It had taken all of Jim’s strength and powers of persuasion to pry his hands away, and then Denny had snarled at the two shaken bikers to get the fuck out of his sight and not come back until he called them.
Watched by the other gang members, whose expressions ranged from pity to disgust, Butch and Karl slunk away to hide in the section of the warehouse that passed for sleeping quarters and to lick their wounds, although it was a safe bet that their antipathy and resentment towards Jake had hardened even more.
Once Denny had calmed down enough, he accepted Jim’s assertion that the incident had been taken care of, and that backlash should be minimal, but that he should be aware that the girl might be able to identify Butch and Karl, although it was unlikely. Jim deliberately failed to mention the boy, because he preferred Denny to assume that Jim had taken care of that little problem permanently. Hopefully, by the time it came to light that the young man had survived, the undercover operation would be over and Jim would be free of his role of enforcer anyway.
Satisfied that his second in command had things under control, Denny turned his attention to the upcoming deal, questioning Jim on the preliminary negotiations he had undertaken and discussing their options until they had hammered out the next steps in the plan. By the time they retired for the night, Jim was more than relieved that his cover – and the whole operation – hadn’t yet been blown through the stupidity of a couple of horny cretins....
*
Blair rose reluctantly to consciousness, spurred on by the irritating tones of his cell phone which lay on the packing case that served as a nightstand at the head of his lumpy sofa bed. Tempted just to either turn the damn thing off, or throw it across the room, he raised his still aching head with a groan, knowing that it was probably Judy, checking up on him and wanting to make arrangements to meet him so they could collect his car from the Blue Lagoon parking lot, and visit the PD to give their statements.
Stretching out a slightly shaky hand from beneath the pile of throws and blankets cocooning him, he snagged the offending device and croaked, “Hey, Judy! You OK?” not even up to considering that it could be anyone else.
Luckily it was his friend as expected, who quickly responded, worry conspicuous in her tone as she said, “Oh Blair, honey! Are you OK? I was so worried they’d keep you in hospital, and no one would give me any information when I rang!”
Automatically forcing himself to keep his voice and words light and positive so as not to further upset his friend, Blair replied, “Yeah, Judy, I’m fine. Well, I’ve got some pretty spectacular bruises, but that’s about it. I was really lucky, thanks to you getting the police there so quickly. And I feel much better for getting a few hours’ shut-eye.”
Realising what her friend was doing, but not about to call him on it right now, Judy answered, “Well, whatever you say, Blair, but I still want to see you for myself, and make sure you really are up to going to the PD with me. Shall I come and meet you at your place?”
At that, Blair was quick to put her off, not wanting her anywhere near his warehouse, because he knew the area was just too dangerous for a woman on her own. Hell, it bothered him enough, especially at night.
“No, no Judy, that’s OK. I’ll catch a bus and meet you at yours instead. It’s more convenient anyway, especially as I’d like to pick the car up first,” he finished in his most persuasive tone.
“Well, OK if you’re sure. I’ll see you in, what, an hour or so?”
“Yeah, that should be fine, Jude. Don’t worry if I’m a bit later, though. You know what the bus service is like!” and he forced himself to chuckle ruefully, wanting to allay her fears on his behalf.
Once she had agreed and hung up, Blair groaned as he carefully lay back down for a moment, dredging up the energy and the willpower to pull his aching body out of bed, and fervently wishing he could just roll over and sleep for the rest of the week.
Knowing that he had to get moving if he was to actually honour his own arrangements, he summoned up the energy to push himself upwards, only to yelp in pain as his battered body complained violently, having stiffened up dramatically during the night.
“Oh shit, oh shit and more fucking shit!” he moaned pitifully as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, clinging on to the thin mattress for a moment before he could summon up the courage to actually stand.
Once on his feet, and reasonably certain he wasn’t about to topple over again, he shuffled painfully to the tiny area he jokingly referred to as his kitchen, and, grabbing a bottle of water and some Tylenol, he swallowed the painkillers down hoping they’d kick in sooner rather than later.
Sorting out some clean clothes, he made his way to the shower, where he stripped off the scrubs which he had slept in, and examined himself warily in the small mirror above the chipped hand basin.
Disregarding the spectacular bed hair and morning stubble, he peered myopically at the gauze at his hairline which was covering the stitches, pleased to note that at least the doctor had only had to clip away a tiny area of his hair.
He vaguely recalled the doctor telling him not to wash his hair for a couple of days unless he protected the area with film wrap or some such, so he decided that for today he’d just pull the whole bird’s nest back into a ponytail. He knew very well that he wouldn’t be able to tolerate the greasy locks for long though, but he was too tired right now to work out the methodology required to allow him to shampoo the abundant curls.
Contemplating his face, he grimaced at the rather colourful bruising and swelling on his cheek where the biker had slugged him, but again considered that it could have been way worse. At least his nose had escaped unbroken, and all his teeth were in place and intact. Pity about the split lip though.
As to the rest of his body, he wasn’t surprised to see a large area of multi-coloured bruising over his ribs where the bastard had kicked him, because it sure had hurt like a son of a bitch, enough so that he’d thought that at least two of them were broken. As it turned out, the doctor confirmed that there was a hairline crack in one, but it shouldn’t need strapping as long as he took it easy for a couple of weeks.
He did say that it would hurt, though, and he wasn’t wrong.
The scratches on his abdomen were pretty unsightly, and he had been prescribed an antibiotic ointment to apply twice a day and after showering, but they were better left uncovered unless they rubbed too much against his clothing.
Just then his glance was drawn to dark fingerprint-shaped bruises on his left shoulder, and a wholly unexpected frisson of unease swept through him.
Suddenly breaking out in the cold sweat of primeval terror, he experienced a flash of memory, recalling the moment when the third biker had leant over him and remembering in exquisite detail the cold but commanding gaze as the man reached for him, gripping his shoulder, after which Blair had passed out.
Shuddering in the aftermath of the flashback, Blair knew for certain that he would never forget that finely-chiselled face, or the touch of the large hand, and was both confused and angered at the twitch of interest in his groin that the recollection had sparked.
Gods! Surely he hadn’t had a surge of desire for someone who was involved in his assault! He surely couldn’t be so in touch with his primitive self that he was actually turned on by the intended violation? Suddenly beset by a cartoonish image of being dragged by his hair to some caveman’s lair, he snickered uncomfortably before shutting down hurriedly.
No! No way! He was just feeling a bit fragile and insecure in the aftermath of an unforeseen and frightening incident, and he told himself sternly that he shouldn’t read anything more into it.
Forcefully pulling his wayward imaginings under control, he turned on the shower and concentrated instead on getting himself ready to meet Judy.
*
Seated in an interview room in front of a bored detective, Blair wondered why on earth he was wasting his time. He was sore, he was still tired, and he sure as hell didn’t need this attitude. He knew for a fact that the PD was too stretched to commit much time or manpower to follow up on an assault which hadn’t actually ended up in either the rape or killing of the victim, so he was just fulfilling the requirements to complete the necessary paperwork.
Not normally given to self-pity or cynicism, right now Blair was experiencing a hefty dose of both emotions as he wondered how Judy was faring in her own interview.
However, once he got to the part where he described the third biker, he noticed a subtle shift in his interviewer’s body language. It probably would have passed unnoticed by most people, but Blair was, if nothing else, a keen observer of body language – came with the turf if you were an anthropologist after all – and his brows twitched together in a tiny frown as he contemplated the other man.
Nevertheless, his curiosity remained unanswered as the detective quickly wrapped up the interview, and, with a few curt words of thanks and insincere sympathy, showed Blair to the door.
Less than satisfied with the outcome, but knowing that the case was probably as good as closed as far as the PD was concerned, Blair concentrated on accepting the inevitable, and resigned himself to settling Judy’s ruffled feathers, because he knew for a fact that the other TA was on a roll, and wanted nothing more than a full posse out on the trail of Blair’s attackers.
What neither of them was aware of was that, although under normal circumstances, Blair’s somewhat cynical assessment of the complaint and its follow-up was sadly on the mark, in this case there was decidedly more interest on the part of the PD, and Vice in particular.
Immediately recognising Ellison from Blair’s detailed description, his interviewer had quickly taken himself down to Vice and Captain Sullivan to see if they wanted to use the information to aid the undercover operation.
Even as Blair and Judy left the building, Captain Sullivan was using the information to his advantage, already planning on picking up Ellison the following day to take part in a line-up so he could call Sandburg back in to see if he could identify him. Of course, it would make no difference even if the kid did so, but it would give Sullivan the opportunity of touching base with his man face-to-face to discuss the upcoming operation without unduly arousing the suspicions of his undercover employer.
*
As yet unaware of the Captain’s intentions, Blair drove Judy back to Rainier so she could teach her afternoon class, and gave Blair the opportunity to pick up some papers for grading at home as he had no intention of letting himself get any further behind in his work than absolutely necessary.
Turning to contemplate his uncharacteristically sombre profile, Judy couldn’t help but ask, “Well, honey, I should imagine that your sour expression means that you’re not too hopeful that the cops are going to take our case seriously, huh? You’ve barely said a word since we left the PD, and in your case, silence is no good thing!”
Giving himself a quick mental shake-up, Blair grinned over at her, although she could easily read the resignation in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jude. It’s just that I got the feeling that I was just jumping through the required hoops, you know?
“I mean, the detective I spoke to couldn’t have been less interested if he had tried! It just makes me angry, even though I guess their budget simply doesn’t run to employing enough cops to take care of ‘almost assaults’!” and he chuckled wryly at his own words.
“Anyhow, Jude, did you get any more satisfaction from your guy? At least I hope you received some genuine sympathy!”
Squeezing his knee gently Judy replied, “I’m sorry, Blair. Sorry that you’re so disillusioned over this, although you have every right to be.
“But I have to say I agree with you, and that makes me mad! Yes, the detective I spoke to did seem genuine, but he also implied that it was unlikely they would ever track down specific suspects. Apparently the number of bikers in Cascade is growing daily, and they sure aren’t all nice guys!
“But we can keep hoping, can’t we? You’re usually so good at that!” she added on a more upbeat, if slightly plaintive, note.
However, before Blair could respond, her expression turned positively ferocious as she growled only half-jokingly, “And if they don’t, I’ll be filing complaints like there’s no tomorrow! Nobody ignores my hero and gets away with it!”
And Blair couldn’t fail to be cheered up by her good-natured efforts to make him smile, knowing that in all likelihood, she meant every word.
*
Jake McNeil took his place in the line with a long-suffering sigh, arrogant attitude firmly in place and looking for all the world as if he couldn’t give a damn about why he was here.
Late that morning he had received a heads-up about what was going to happen when one of his fellow undercover cops strolled nonchalantly past where Jim and some of his cronies were having a beer in a local biker bar. Surreptitiously tapping his ear to let Jim know he should extend his hearing, the man wandered around the parking lot looking as if he was muttering angrily to himself, but in fact clueing Jim in as to what was about to go down.
Nodding distractedly and rubbing his jaw to let the other know that the message had been received and understood, Jim reeled his hearing back in with only a low-key headache to reward him for the effort.
Of course, he was well aware that with the backup a Guide could provide he would probably have no headache at all, and would undoubtedly be able to use his senses a great deal more, but such was life. He didn’t have a Guide, and didn’t expect to have one in the near future.
Then again, there had been more than a little connection with that kid in the alley, but Jim resolutely forbade himself to pursue that train of thought.
When a couple of units rolled in a few minutes later, with the intention of taking ‘Jake’ in for a police line-up, Jim was able to give a convincing show of cold anger and disbelief, sneering arrogantly at the cops and at Butch and Karl, who had the grace to look abashed – at least when they caught Denny glaring at them, anyhow.
Hustled into the back of one of the units, Jim grinned cockily at Denny, letting his ‘boss’ know that he wasn’t worried, and that Denny shouldn’t be either.
*
At around about the same time as Jim was being picked up, Blair was back in his office having dragged himself in to teach his morning Anthro 101 class – not wanting to have to get it covered again by another TA – but basically feeling like death warmed over. Sure, he had finally given in and taken one of the strong painkillers he had been prescribed, but it had yet to kick in, and he felt like he had had a head-to-head with a Mack truck.
To be honest, it hadn’t helped that Judy was trying to spend every spare minute with him, genuinely trying to help, but actually making him feel a whole lot worse as he fought to maintain his positive attitude, not wanting anyone to pity him and unused to being the centre of attention. That went for Mark and Suzy also, because they had made it blatantly obvious that they thought the attack was partly their fault as they had failed to keep their party together.
In truth, they were probably correct to a degree, but Blair didn’t want or need their guilt either. What was done was done, and in all likelihood nothing more would come of it, if the attitude of the detective at the PD was any indication.
He was extremely surprised, therefore, when the phone rang and a member of the Vice unit asked him to come down to the station that afternoon to see if he could positively identify one of his attackers from a line-up. Although somewhat sceptical, Blair agreed, and left a message on Judy’s voicemail to let her know that he was leaving Rainier early, knowing that she had classes for most of the afternoon, but that she had intended to meet up with him later.
*
As he drove carefully downtown still favouring his sore ribs, Blair concentrated on recalling everything he could about his attackers, but knew that he could only really be positive about the third man. Whereas the other two were of medium height and well-built, they had both sported full beards and heads of shaggy, long hair which effectively masked their features, especially as those features were twisted in cruel anticipation and taking the near-darkness of the alley and Blair’s own terror into account.
The third man, however, had been clean-shaven except for a neat goatee, had short, almost military style hair, an earring in one lobe and the coldest pale blue eyes Blair had ever seen, and which he knew he would never forget. And he had held Blair’s terrified gaze for a long moment before doing whatever it was to render him unconscious. Add to that the exceptional physique and air of indisputable threat, and Blair was as certain as he could be that he would pick out that one if he was actually in the line-up.
All he could do was hope, and trust that his statement and descriptions hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.
*
Less than an hour later, Blair was carefully studying a line of ten guys, only one of whom was of any interest to him at all.
Breath catching in his throat, he stared unblinkingly at number 4 in the line, knowing for sure that he was the third attacker, and feeling uncomfortably as if the guy was actually staring right back at him through the two-way mirror, even though common sense told him that such a thing was impossible. Swallowing audibly, he turned to the detective standing beside him and croaked out, “Number 4. For certain. I can’t swear to any of the others, but I’ll never forget him!”
Nodding in acceptance and taking his arm to escort him out of the viewing room, the detective who had accompanied him said in a neutral tone, “Thank you, Mr. Sandburg. That’s really helpful. We’ll be in touch again with you very shortly. You’re free to go,” and he smiled perfunctorily as he guided Blair down the corridor towards the elevator.
However, Blair had had more than enough of the man’s indifference, and also had a pressing need to visit the bathroom, so he thanked the detective, indicating that he would make his own way out, after using the facilities.
*
Long minutes later, because Blair had had to take a while to get himself together after seeing his attacker so up close and personal, despite the insubstantial protection of the two-way mirror, he exited the bathroom and looked up and down the corridor to orientate himself and locate the elevator.
What he saw caused him to almost do himself a further injury, so swift was his double-take.
Walking casually down the corridor towards him was none other than the man he had just identified as his attacker. Furthermore, not only was he not restrained, but he was grinning conspiratorially at the man who had a friendly hand resting on his shoulder – a man whom Blair recognised as Captain Sullivan from the Vice unit, having overheard the man talking to his interviewer the previous day.
As his emotions veered wildly from shock to confusion to fury, he growled, “You! What the hell’s going on? He attacked me! What the fuck are you doing, playing nice with a gang-banger? Is this some kind of sick joke?”
With a muttered “Oh, shit!” Jim glanced apologetically at Sullivan as he continued quietly, “Look, Captain, perhaps you should leave this with me? If I can’t get it sorted, then we’ll go back to the drawing board, but I think I can explain it to him – I hope I can, anyway!” he finished uneasily.
Nodding unhappily, Sullivan withdrew his hand and, glancing uncomfortably between Blair and Jim, he turned and retraced his steps towards the Vice bullpen.
Seeing Blair’s eyes widen with incipient panic as the Captain retreated, Jim quickly addressed him, saying in his most soothing tone, “It’s OK, kid. I can explain. I promise you you’ll be fine – it is the PD after all,” he added with a wry grin.
“I know it’s hard, but I’m asking you to trust me – to explain!” and he assumed his most candid expression.
And despite knowing for sure that he was playing directly into the other man’s hands, Blair found himself nodding in agreement, some deeply-buried instinct telling him that the man was actually telling the truth, even though he had no logical explanation for his belief.
As Jim pushed open the door to an empty interview room, he couldn’t help but grin ruefully to himself when the kid skittered around him, unwilling to come into any physical contact as he entered the room. To be honest, he was impressed by the young man’s courage, because the fact that they were in the PD didn’t add up to a whole hill of beans if he really did have evil intentions towards Blair. On the other hand, Jim wondered if perhaps Sandburg was totally naive – some sort of innocent abroad - before deciding in the very next instant that he didn’t believe that for a second.
And, also like Sandburg, he couldn’t have explained the rationale behind his conviction either.
When they were both inside and Jim had shut the door behind them, Blair couldn’t help but glance nervously at the exit before putting the desk between himself and the big man, who looked even more intimidating in the enclosed space.
Wanting to calm the other man’s nerves a little, Jim sat down opposite him, legs stretched out comfortably and indicating that Blair should take a seat also.
Still tense, but with his infernal curiosity winning hands down over his unease, Blair did so, then stared directly into the other man’s face, noting the tiny smirk and faintly amused expression in the cornflower blue eyes with no little irritation before tacitly indicating that he was ready to hear what the man had to say.
Suddenly rubbing his hands over his face, Jim looked up, all traces of humour expunged, to be replaced by an expression both serious and apologetic.
“OK, Chief, now here’s the thing,” he began. “I’m a detective with Cascade PD Vice, and I’ve been taking part in an undercover operation which isn’t over with yet--”
“I kind of figured that!” Blair snapped. “But why couldn’t you have distracted your ‘friends’? You must have known what they wanted!”
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” replied Jim with a sigh. “And I’m more sorry than I can say that you got hurt, Chief. I’m only glad that your quick thinking let your girlfriend escape without being assaulted also.
“But I couldn’t jeopardise the operation by letting those two assholes think I’m going soft or something--”
“So you let them hurt me! Like I’m some sort of ‘collateral damage’, eh?” shouted Blair, whose anger had by now eclipsed his anxiety.
“How could you, a policeman, stand by and let them...let them...touch me like that?” and he was mortified to find himself near to tears so he quickly sat back and averted his gaze, trying to get his emotions under control.
“Aw, Chief, I’m sorry, truly. But at least you’re not dead,” Jim replied with a touch of asperity.
When Blair’s head whipped up to stare incredulously at him, he continued, “I was supposed to finish you off, kid, so you couldn’t finger any of us. That’s what they expect of me as an enforcer. You could be dead! You’re supposed to be dead!” and he met Blair’s gaze impassively, willing him to understand if not forgive.
For long moments Blair stared back, trying to get his head round the information.
Eventually giving himself a mental shake, he murmured, “So what was with the Vulcan death-grip thing? That something all undercover cops get taught these days?”
And Jim just had to laugh briefly at the young man’s tone, appreciating the glimpse of wry humour in Blair’s expression.
“No, not all of us, Chief. Just those of us who’ve got a history of time served in the military. But you’ve got to admit, it’s a useful trick to have up my sleeve.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is at that,” replied Blair, knowing he had conceded to the other man’s argument.
Becoming serious again, Blair continued, “So I guess what you’re asking is for me to keep quiet and not screw up your cover, am I right?”
At Jim’s nod, he sighed deeply and surrendered.
“OK, OK. You got it. As long as those assholes eventually get what’s coming to them!”
“No doubt about that, Chief,” replied Jim implacably. “I’ll make certain of it!” and he made to rise, hoping that the conversation was over, because, truth be told, he was having more and more trouble ignoring the warm feeling and enticing scent he was getting from the other man.
His own anxiety levels rose alarmingly however when Blair added conversationally, “Oh, by the way, are you a Sentinel?”
“Um, why? What’s it to you?” Jim replied, trying not to sound concerned.
“Oh, nothing really. It’s just that I was thinking about how you must have been keeping track of the incident even from the other end of the alley. And I’ve been working on a Sentinel theme for my doctorate – basically, how Sentinels are integrated into closed societies such as the police, fire departments, that sort of thing....”
Relieved beyond measure that that was all there was to the innocent question, Jim smiled at the smaller man as he held the door open again.
“Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Sandburg. We do appreciate it wasn’t an easy choice to make, but I promise you I won’t let you down”.
Holding out his hand for the other to shake, Jim was hard put to keep his face expressionless at the strong tingle of current that passed between them at Blair’s touch.
Glancing up quickly, a bemused look on his face Blair said, “Did you feel that?”
“Feel what, Mr. Sandburg?” Jim replied nonchalantly, and was hugely relieved when the other man seemed to be convinced by his lack of reaction.
“Oh, nothing I guess,” came the response, and Blair smiled briefly before turning to go, but not before Jim caught the quick flash of wistful longing that crossed the lovely features as Blair walked away towards the elevators.
*
Over the next few days, things began to return to normal – well, as normal as could be expected in the grad student’s frenetic life.
As Blair’s bruises faded and his various aches and pains eased, he threw himself back into his work and social life, much to his friends’ and his students’ relief. If he seemed a little more preoccupied and introspective on occasion, they put it down to the natural and understandable after-effects of an attack of that type, and didn’t call him on it, believing that he would talk about it when he was ready.
For the most part they were correct, but there was another aspect that played on Blair’s mind that he simply couldn’t seem to shake, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.
In quieter moments, especially in bed at night when Blair tried vainly to get some quality rest, he couldn’t help but recall the big detective in detail, and Blair’s own response to him. Certainly, he had been terrified that night in the alley, but there had been more to it than that. He remembered only too well the compelling gaze levelled at him, even as the detective had reached out to him to do that ‘Vulcan’ thing, and he was by now well used to the tingle of arousal that always accompanied the memory.
Added to that the fact that the guy was a Sentinel – a prime example of his favourite study subject and drop-dead gorgeous at that – and it was hardly surprising that Blair’s sleep was suffering.
However, he had sadly come to the conclusion that nothing could possibly come of his attraction, because hadn’t the big guy been completely unaware of the current Blair could have sworn he had felt pass between them at the other man’s touch?
Sighing resignedly he punched his lumpy pillow into some sort of shape, and tried to settle down again, resolutely turning his attention to the class outlines he was working on for next semester, and the fact that he still hadn’t explained his feelings to Judy, and that wasn’t conducive to sleep either....
*
As for Jim, he found himself also contemplating the other man on occasion, but was doing his level best to stamp down hard on his feelings not least because he didn’t need to be distracted from concentrating on his undercover role.
Despite what he had intimated to Blair, he had actually been taken aback by the strength of the connection between them, and was convinced that in all probability, Sandburg was more than compatible as a Guide, even if he was unaware of the fact.
And he was quite lovely into the bargain.
But Jim had absolutely no intention of dragging the young academic into further danger, which would be almost inevitable if he was to hook up with a cop, so he concentrated fiercely on playing out his part to the best of his ability, looking forwards with growing intensity to when he would be free of the persona of Jake McNeil.
As he had hoped, it hadn’t been too hard to convince Denny that the cops had nothing concrete to hold him for, implying that the witness was probably the girl, who hadn’t really had the time to get a good look at any of them anyway and thus rendering the identification inconclusive. He never mentioned Sandburg, hoping that Denny and the others would continue to assume that the guy had been taken care of, thanks to their enforcer.
Butch and Karl were still keeping a low profile, however, because Denny had made it very clear that one more fuck-up like that, and they were gone....
*
A couple of weeks after the line-up charade, Denny announced to the ‘Sons’ that he was about ready to finalise the deal with Cascade’s leading drug manufacturing and distribution gang, thanks to a great extent to ‘Jake’s’ help with the negotiations.
Progress had been slow because of the two gangs’ very different make-up and attitudes, as the bikers had earned a reputation for aggression and general intolerance, particularly against racial and alternative culture and lifestyle groups they disliked or disagreed with.
Since the other gang was predominantly African American in origin and membership, and understandably wary of doing business with a white gang having the sort of rep that the ‘Sons of Satan’ had earned, the leaders had been dancing around each other for quite some time until they decided that, even if they didn’t actually like or truly trust each other, an agreement between them could still be beneficial to them all.
As a final step towards agreeing the terms of the deal, the leader of the ‘38 Specials’ – Max LaFontaine - suggested that Denny and his most trusted men should meet at their newest drug lab to view the product, which just happened to be conveniently situated in a disused warehouse not too far from the gang’s HQ on Grant and Jefferson.
As it happened, that same warehouse also housed one Blair Sandburg, but neither he nor the ‘Specials’ had any idea about the existence of the other.
With Jim’s handlers now listening in avidly to every word, Captain Sullivan decided that now was the time to act and take down the key figures in two of Cascade’s most troublesome and expanding gangs, so Jim was advised in the same way as before that the cops would stake out the warehouse ready to act as soon as the deal went down.
Jim for one wasn’t about to complain, because he was more than ready to come in from the cold, so to speak, especially as he had been thinking that perhaps he might like to pursue some sort of relationship with the enchanting young grad student after all, even if it did turn out to be ultimately unworkable....
*
Two nights later saw Denny and Jim pull up outside a large and scruffy warehouse a few blocks away from their own HQ, and definitely in a more run-down area. They were accompanied by Butch, Karl and Blackie as Denny considered that a show of extra muscle never went amiss, and the three could provide that at least, even if thinking wasn’t their strongest suit.
Leaving their bikes under the watchful eye of two of the ‘Specials’, which in itself was an act of considerable trust, the five entered the building through a small side door, to be met by Max LaFontaine and his own ‘muscle’, three heavily armed and grim-faced giants who resembled heavyweight boxers.
After a few words of greeting, during which both sides checked each other out, LaFontaine nodded in satisfaction, and led them further into the depths of the warehouse to where his ‘chemist’ was brewing up his latest batch while a couple of kids bagged up the finished product.
Of course, all of them apart from Jim were completely unaware that detectives from the Vice unit were listening in to every word via Jim’s earring transmitter, having stealthily moved into position earlier in the day to stake out the warehouse from their hiding places in other similar ones nearby, and that backup vehicles and uniforms were also ready and waiting a block or so away.
Despite their care, however, they had failed to notice that there was another small entrance on the far side of the warehouse, and that entrance led into the section where Blair had set up his ramshackle living quarters.
Now that might not have been a problem had Blair followed his normal daily routine, as he would probably have been spotted returning home in the early evening. He could then have been apprehended by the watching cops and kept out of harm’s way – and probably checked out to ensure that he wasn’t part of the gang running the lab also.
However, with typical Sandburgian luck, that morning Blair had awoken with a pounding head that threatened to develop into a full-blown migraine, something that only happened rarely, but when it did it was invariably a humdinger.
He had dragged himself painfully over to Rainier to teach his early morning Anthro 101 class and then, at the insistence of his friends in the department, had taken himself back home while he was still capable of driving to wait out the migraine in bed, which was the only way to deal with it.
He was still more or less out for the count when the deal next door was going down.
Although the whole set-up with both the gangs’ negotiations and the projected police action had so far fallen neatly into place as planned by both sides, inevitably something had to go wrong, and it was, as usual with such things, an unexpected incident that sabotaged the expected outcome.
As luck would have it, one of the kids doing the bagging up had witnessed Ellison arresting his sister, who worked the streets in the red light district on a regular basis, during one of Vice’s periodic crack-downs on prostitution and kerb-crawling.
Dropping his half-filled baggie on the counter, he stalked aggressively towards Jim, pointing accusingly as he growled, “Hey man! You that fuckin’ cop that pulled in Shareen, ain’t you? Whatcha doin’ here, dude?”
As his outburst was met by various exclamations of surprise and anger, he appealed to his boss saying, “It’s true, Max, I swear to God! He works in Vice, and I saw him down the ‘district’ when they was pulling the workin’ girls. He was the one pulled my sister last time!”
Even though his angry accusation was initially met with disbelief by Denny, Max LaFontaine was much warier, since he had a good deal more to lose on this occasion, so he swiftly called a halt to the negotiations, while his men pulled out their weapons to cover the bikers until the claim was dealt with one way or the other to his satisfaction.
As Denny snarled in impotent fury at the move, still unwilling to believe that Jake was a cop, Captain Sullivan decided that his team should move in immediately if his man was to have any chance of surviving the night.
With senses on high alert, Jim was ready to dive for cover the instant LaFontaine and his men were distracted by shouts from the guards outside warning them of the police presence, and drew his own weapon to take down the nearest thug while a barrage of shots was exchanged between all gang members and the cops outside.
In the ensuing mayhem, stray rounds shattered equipment and chemicals on the lab’s workbenches, and Jim realised immediately that an explosion was imminent. Yelling a warning to Denny, who was crouched beside him, they broke cover and sprinted for the exit, dodging bullets from both sides until the members from both gangs belatedly spotted the danger and turned their attention toward saving themselves.
As the cops outside ceased fire when Jim emerged, and also retreated as quickly as possible from the danger zone, a huge flash followed by a loud and powerful blast announced the destruction of the lab even as Jim and Denny dived for cover behind some nearby dumpsters.
In the immediate aftermath, Jim handed Denny over to one of his fellow detectives, who dragged the man off, still yelling expletives at Jim, completely ignoring the fact that his erstwhile enforcer had saved his life.
Even as emergency services began to arrive, one or two badly burned survivors of the blast staggered out of the burning building, and Jim joined his colleagues in securing the scene as best they could.
However, as he cautiously extended his senses, having kept everything dialled down during the fire-fight and ensuing explosion, he became aware of another presence in the warehouse.
“There’s someone still alive in there!” he yelled, gripping Captain Sullivan’s arm to attract his attention.
“I can hear coughing, and I think it’s from the other end of the building! I’m going to check it out!”
At Sullivan’s nod of assent and warning to use the utmost caution, Jim led the way, followed by two firemen, swiftly following the weak sounds to the other previously unnoticed entrance. Using their combined strength, they battered down the door, and Jim ran unerringly to where a small figure, half covered by the remnants of an old sofa bed, weakly tried to pull itself to safety. Ignoring the devastated remains of what was obviously some sort of living area, Jim quickly picked up the slight figure and, confirming that there was no one else present, ran from the burning ruin accompanied by the firemen.
Coughing from the effects of minor smoke inhalation, Jim laid down his now unconscious burden, who was immediately placed on a backboard by two EMTs in preparation for transporting to hospital along with the other surviving gang members. However, before the gurney was lifted into the ambulance, Jim finally registered what his senses had been trying to tell him, and he leaned over the limp and soot-streaked body of Blair Sandburg.
At once horrified and filled with compassion for the battered young man, Jim took a moment to gently smooth the dirty locks from Blair’s face, murmuring, “Oh, Chief! What have you gotten yourself into now?”
Then, quickly filling in the EMTs with Blair’s name and occupation, he took it upon himself to vouch for the grad student’s innocence of being involved in any crime so that he wasn’t lumped in with the other injured gang members on arrival at the hospital.
Knowing that he had to stay on the scene until sent back to the PD to be debriefed, he determined nevertheless to visit the kid as soon as he had a chance, to reassure himself that Blair wasn’t too badly hurt.
*
Long hours later in the early morning light, an exhausted Jim Ellison let himself into his loft apartment, glad to be home once again and free at last from his role as Jake McNeil.
The wrap-up of the operation had necessarily been complicated by the explosion, but he and his fellow detectives had finally closed the case, since most of the gang members from both sides had either perished in the warehouse or soon after from their injuries.
Of the ‘Sons of Satan’, only Denny, and, of course, Jim remained unscathed, and of the other three, Blackie had survived thus far, but with severe burns, and both Butch and Karl had been killed outright, and Jim wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to feel any sorrow on their behalf.
Max LaFontaine, his ‘chemist’ and all but two of his men – the two who had remained outside the warehouse – had died in the flames, so as far as Jim and his fellow detectives were concerned, justice had been served.
Undoubtedly the remnants of both groups would reform into new and equally dangerous gangs in due course, but at least for the time being, the streets of Cascade were just a little safer.
Peeling off his filthy and smoky leathers, Jim rewarded himself with a long, hot shower before falling into bed for some much-needed rest. He fully intended to visit the hospital as soon as he could, however, having already ascertained that Blair was stable and not in any danger even though patient privacy meant that he hadn’t received any details of the young man’s injuries.
Greatly relieved that the kid was as safe and as well as could be expected, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
*
Having slept far longer than he had expected, but obviously needing the rest, Jim woke refreshed and ready to visit Blair in hospital, determined to try to convince the grad student to give them a chance at a relationship.
Yes, he was still concerned that should he succeed in persuading Blair to be his Guide he would be putting the younger man in danger, but he had already decided after this last operation that he had had enough of Vice, and was going to apply to fill the vacancy recently opened in the Major Crimes Unit which was at present benefitting from the appointment of a new Captain, Simon Banks.
No doubt there would be plenty of potentially dangerous cases in that unit also, but it would appear that Blair had no trouble in getting himself into precarious situations anyway, and at least Jim would be able to keep an eye on him.
He knew he might have an uphill battle having previously denied the pull between them, but he hoped that the attraction remained strong enough for Blair to forgive him, especially when Jim explained the reasoning behind his actions. He also hoped that Blair could be persuaded to move into the loft with him, since not only would it suit the Sentinel to have his new Guide safe in his own territory, but Blair was now homeless after all, which could also work in Jim’s favour.
*
Clutching a bag of grapes and a couple of magazines, Jim walked down the corridor to Blair’s room, having already learned that the grad student was expected to be discharged in the morning if he continued to improve.
Just as he turned the corner, however, he was forced to step aside as a young woman scuttled past him, head down and looking distinctly unhappy as she made for the elevators. Jim instantly recognised her as the girl from the nightclub incident, and frowned a little, having failed to take into consideration that Blair could already have a committed relationship with her....
Deciding he needed to find out for sure, and wanting to visit Blair anyway, he gripped his offerings a little tighter and, tapping lightly at the door, let himself in at the raspy “Come in!” that issued from within.
*
Moments before Jim stepped into the room, Blair had, in fact, been feeling terrible, and not because of his injuries either. He was beset by guilt at having hurt a dear friend’s feelings, but he had promised himself that he simply had to be open with Judy as regards their relationship, or lack of it.
As he should have expected, the kind-hearted young woman had come to visit as soon as she had heard about his latest mishap, worried and fussing over him almost like a mother hen. It was only after she had calmed down a little that he was able to broach the subject of their friendship. As kindly and gently as he could, he explained how much she meant to him, and how much he sincerely valued her as a dear friend, but that he wasn’t attracted to her sexually, and didn’t think it fair to encourage her as he had no intention of taking advantage of her.
To his eternal gratitude, Judy actually took it remarkably well, as she was an honest and straightforward young woman, and she could tell by the genuine sorrow and concern on Blair’s face that he truly cared for her and was upset on her behalf.
Smiling sadly she leaned over and patted his hand saying softly, “It’s OK, Blair. I guess I already knew, but couldn’t admit it to myself.
“I appreciate your telling me, and the fact that you’ve always been the perfect gentleman, even when I didn’t want you to be!
“I’d like to think that we can remain friends, but I hope you won’t take it amiss if I go now – I think I need to lick my wounds in private!”
With a soft kiss to his brow, she got up and walked to the door, letting herself out even as Blair whispered brokenly, “I’m so sorry, Judy...truly I am!”
*
As Jim stepped through the door, Blair didn’t look up immediately, assuming that his visitor was one of the hospital staff, so Jim had an opportunity to give the other man a quick once-over with his senses.
The young man was propped up with several pillows, presumably to help his breathing, and the faint marks on his cheeks showed that he had been wearing an oxygen mask until recently.
His long hair was tied back in an untidy ponytail, and definitely needed a proper shampoo.
Although the original bruising from his attack had faded almost completely now – at least to non-Sentinel vision – his face was marked by new bruising on one cheek, and a sore-looking patch on his jaw where he had probably face-planted after being tossed from the sofa bed by the blast from the explosion.
Nevertheless, despite the new injuries, and his momentarily despondent expression, Jim still thought he was probably one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, and his resolve to win the young man to his side strengthened accordingly.
Coughing slightly to gain Blair’s attention, he was quietly amused when Blair glanced up to do an almost classic double-take as he took in the identity of his visitor.
“Detective?” he queried a little uncertainly. “Um, you look different!”
And Jim grinned at him, unaware of the effect he had on the other man at the complete change in character which Blair had never yet experienced.
“Yeah, I think I probably do,” replied Jim cheerfully. “Detective Jim Ellison at your service!
“Jake McNeil is gone at last, and, like they say, now ‘I’m free to be me’ again. Does it disappoint you?” and he cocked an eyebrow, hoping that Blair liked what he saw.
Taking in his visitor’s handsome face, now lit with a lovely smile rather than the cold-eyed stare of his undercover persona, he also noted that the goatee, like the earring, was history, and instead of biker leathers, Jim wore form-fitting jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater. In truth, to Blair he looked mouth-watering, and beneath the cover of his blankets, certain parts of his lower anatomy began to take an interest also.
“Um, no! No, not at all, man!” Blair replied, glancing away briefly, but not before Jim noted the tinge of pink in the pale cheeks. Then Blair looked up again and met Jim’s gaze with a frank one of his own.
“I’m really glad you’re OK, man, and you got through whatever undercover operation you were involved in.
“But I have to ask, why are you here? Am I in trouble? I mean, the officer that came to see me this morning said that the explosion was due to a meth lab or something blowing up? I swear, man, I didn’t know it was there! He didn’t seem to believe me, even though he did tell me you had vouched for me.
“But I want you to know it’s true. I am innocent. Stupid, maybe, but innocent....”
“It’s OK, Chief, I know you’re telling the truth,” replied Jim soothingly. “Sentinel here after all, even if I don’t use it much. I can tell you’re not lying.”
Blair looked immensely relieved, and relaxed into his pillows a little more as Jim continued, “No, Chief, I came to make sure you’re really OK. After all, I feel as if I’ve invested a lot of time and effort in you,” but he smiled to take the edge off his words.
“Guess you have at that,” came the chuckled response.
“I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I mean, rescuing me once was pretty amazing, given the circumstances, but then to do it again! Talk about my knight in shining armour! All you need is the white horse and you’re done!”
“Nope, no white horse for me,” laughed Jim. “My trusty steed’s a black Harley-Davidson, so I’m really a Black Knight rather than a white one!”
“Then thank you, my Black Knight. And please feel free to rescue me again any time!”
Suddenly realising he was being rather too familiar; Blair blushed again and was mightily relieved when Ellison didn’t call him on it. Instead, the guy sat back and gazed at him for a moment, a slightly calculating expression on his face.
Abruptly changing the subject to let Blair off the hook a little, Jim said conversationally, “So that young woman I passed in the corridor. Is she your girlfriend, Chief? Because I have to say she looked a bit upset”.
Blair’s expression changed immediately to one of sadness and more than a touch of guilt as he replied softly, “No, man, although she would like to be. She’s a great person, Detective, and I’m really fond of her. But not in that way, and I just had to tell her. It wasn’t fair to keep her hanging on in hope, and I would never take advantage of her just because I could. Though the gods only know what she saw in me anyway...” he finished, genuinely perplexed.
Hugely relieved in his turn, Jim said quietly, “Then you don’t see yourself as others do, Chief. But I admire your honesty in your dealings with Judy.”
Then, in an effort to lighten the atmosphere a bit, he said, “So you really are OK, Chief? What’s the diagnosis, and when can you get out of here?”
Latching on to the more neutral subject, Blair responded wryly, “Well, thanks to you, it was mostly just smoke inhalation – hence the raspy voice,” and he chuckled again to demonstrate.
“I’ve got some bruises and scrapes from being thrown out of bed, and the bed itself hit me on the back of the head when it was blown over me, but I can hardly complain, because apparently I’m alive because I was sleeping at the time of the explosion. If I’d been moving about or upright, I’d probably be dead now.
“Anyway, they’re keeping me overnight again for observation, but after that, I’m good to go in the morning,” and then his face fell again, and he couldn’t prevent the look of despair which clouded his features.
“Hey, what is it Chief?” said Jim, immediately concerned again. “Anything I can help with?”
Summoning up a rueful smile, Blair responded, “No, man, but thanks for asking. It’s just that – well, I don’t know where I’ll be going, you see. I don’t know if any of my stuff survived the blast, and I can’t ask Judy to put me up after what I just told her. I guess I could sleep in my office for a couple nights while I get myself sorted out...” and he frowned, obviously lost in thought for a moment.
Actually, this was the opening Jim was hoping for, so he jumped right in, hoping against hope that Blair would see things his way.
“Well, as to that, Chief, I was going to ask if you’d like to come home with me. I’ve got plenty of room in the loft, even if you only want to stay a few days.”
At Blair’s incredulous expression, he smiled softly and continued, “And I have a really good reason for asking you. I have a confession to make...” and he explained in detail just why he wanted Blair at his side....
*
Jim puttered around the kitchen, fixing a light snack and making some tea for his new roommate.
Senses working as smoothly and comfortably as he could ever remember, he contemplated the small figure cocooned in a thick comforter and propped up by several fluffy pillows on his sofa.
Blair was quiet and introspective, which was hardly surprising after the emotional drubbing he’d gone through over the past 24 hours, but at least he was here now, in Jim’s territory where he was meant to be, and as far as Jim was concerned, this was where he would stay.
Putting the finishing touches to the tasty sandwiches he had concocted, Jim placed the plates and cups of tea on a tray, and, going against the habits of a lifetime for his new friend’s sake, took the whole thing over to the coffee table, where he placed the tray within easy reach before gently lifting Blair’s sock-clad feet and placing them on his lap as he sat down beside his new Guide.
Gently massaging the small feet, he was gratified to hear Blair’s groan of pleasure as he pulled himself back to the present, and murmured quietly, “I’ll give you about 100 years to finish that, Big Guy!” before letting his head fall back against the pillows again, and closing his eyes in bliss.
In no hurry to break the mood, Jim continued with his impromptu massage, and let his mind wander over the events of the past few hours.
*
The previous evening, after he had explained to Blair about the fact that he believed that Blair was his Guide, he had been amazed at the young man’s reaction. Emotions changing from anxiety, to disbelief to outright joy, Blair had embraced his words, and didn’t even seem to register Jim’s apologetic admission regarding his initial denial of their mutual attraction. Slightly puzzled at Blair’s complete lack of offence or resentment, Jim realised with a pang that the younger man was somewhat deficient in the self-esteem department, and vowed he was going to work on that.
“Wow, man! That’s just, so amazing! So cool! I mean, I’ve been studying Sentinels for most of my higher education, but never had any idea that I could possibly have any talent as a Guide! Oh man!” and he had beamed at Jim in unaffected delight.
However, as to the offer of staying in Jim’s apartment, he was much more reticent, but, when prompted, he admitted that he had never had a real home. He told Jim that people he stayed with usually got fed up with his hyper activity and incessant talking so they tended to get rid of him as soon as they could. Jim knew it would take more than a few trite words of reassurance to convince him that he had no intention of kicking his Guide out once settled in his territory, but for now was content that Blair shyly agreed to come home with him in the morning, “But just for a week, man, then I’ll be out of your hair....”
After leaving Blair in the hospital, Jim had driven home via the burned-out warehouse, and confirmed for himself that Blair was correct in his assumption that he had lost everything, at least everything that had been in the building. Whatever hadn’t been destroyed by the explosion and ensuing fire had succumbed to water damage and was now a soggy, blackened mess.
However, he located Blair’s beat-up old Corvair, which had survived relatively unscathed, so Jim quickly arranged to have the old car towed to his own garage with every intention of getting it road-worthy again.
He also found Blair’s backpack and a duffel packed with clothes and a few necessities in the trunk – Blair’s ‘escape bag’ – so the younger man would at least have a change of clothes when he got back to the loft.
Blair had also told him that most of his books and research materials were safe in his office at Rainier, so that was a huge relief for him.
When he had arrived at the hospital the following morning, Blair had seemed almost surprised to see him, and Jim was sadly aware that the kid must have had a lifetime of unfulfilled promises, so had probably assumed that Jim was just being nice to him. On realising that Jim was totally sincere however, Blair had almost bounced with excitement so that Jim couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s unforced happiness.
“Come on, Chief. Let’s blow this pop stand and get you home where you belong!” and Blair had gazed up at him with unfeigned adoration, puppy dog eyes fully engaged.
Once at the loft, however, Blair had become quiet, as though uncertain as to whether he had fully understood what exactly Jim was offering. To alleviate any qualms Blair might have as to his intentions, should he be unwilling to accept Jim as a potential lover, Jim had immediately shown him the small spare room under that stairs where he had already placed Blair’s bags. However, judging by the occasional wafts of pheromones he was catching, he hoped that Blair wouldn’t want to stay down there when there was a nice big bed up in the main bedroom. He simply had to build up to the suggestion....
The rest of the day had passed quickly with Blair gradually settling in to his new surroundings, and dealing with various necessary telephone calls and paperwork, plus contacting Rainier to arrange for a couple of days off to get properly sorted out and back on his feet.
Jim had also been busy, only in his case it involved taking a quick trip to the PD to put in his application for the position in the MCU, and to explain to Captain Sullivan what he was doing and why. To his credit, Sullivan understood where his detective was coming from, having low-grade Guide capability himself, if not enough to actually bond with a full Sentinel. He therefore had no intention of blocking Jim’s application, knowing that Simon Banks had experience with dealing with true Sentinel and Guide pairs, of which it appeared Jim Ellison was now one half.
Congratulating Jim on finally finding his Guide, he thanked the detective for his outstanding work in Vice, and wished him luck in Major Crimes.
Back at the loft, Jim had explained what he had been doing, much to Blair’s excitement on Jim’s behalf, but hadn’t yet discussed any further as to how he hoped their partnership would work.
*
After a few more minutes of gentle rubbing, Jim lowered Blair’s feet to the floor, and encouraged him to eat his sandwiches, which he did with gusto and murmurs of appreciation.
Once they had both finished, and the tray removed and washing up dispensed with, Jim moved to sit back down beside his friend, and turned slightly sideways so he could meet the young man’s questioning gaze.
“OK Chief – Blair,” he began with a smile, taking one of his companion’s elegant hands into his larger one and gently stroking the soft skin over the knuckles.
“Have you decided whether you’re comfortable with being my Guide at the PD? Because I have to say, Chief, I really hope you like the idea.”
Taking in Blair’s rather worried expression, and correctly surmising the reason for it, he continued, “I don’t expect you to give up Rainier, Chief, unless you particularly want to go to the academy and become a police officer yourself.
“That’s always a possibility in the future, but for now I realise how much your dissertation means to you, so what I’m hoping is that you’ll agree to give me as much time as you can at the PD between your studying and teaching commitments, as you’ll automatically be granted a full ride-along pass so you can accompany me in the field.
“Of course, you’ll also receive a small salary from the department for your time and to cover your expenses.
“What do you say?”
As he had been speaking, he had carefully monitored both Blair’s changing expressions and his physical responses, and was quietly hopeful that the young man’s answer was going to be positive.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Oh man! Oh yes, Jim! That would be great, really! I honestly never thought I could be so lucky as to get the best of all worlds! Thank you so much for understanding about the doctorate also!
“I mean, I would have given it up if I had to, if you needed me to because your job at the PD is so vital, but you’re right, it does mean a lot to me, and I’m so close to finishing it...” he babbled breathlessly.
At Jim’s quizzical expression, he hurried on, assuming he had to put Jim’s mind at rest about his own intentions.
“It’s OK, man. I mean, the practical information I can get from riding with you will be invaluable, but I won’t quote you or use you as my actual subject, man, I promise!
“I wouldn’t expose you like that, and besides, it wouldn’t be ethical to use a subject I want to be intimate with...er...oops!” and he trailed off into blushing silence, cursing himself for his stupidity in giving himself away.
Way to go, Sandburg! And just why would you think that he wants you that way?
He needn’t have worried, however, as, with a huge grin of genuine pleasure, Jim replied, “Sounds good to me, Chief! Actually, better than good! Now, if I’m not hurrying you too much, it’s late, and I think we could both do with an early night,” and he sent a meaningful glance up towards the bedroom, eyebrow raised in question. Blushing again in real joy and happy anticipation, Blair murmured hopefully, “I’m not sure I’ll be up to anything too energetic tonight, Big Guy. Still a bit sore in too many places! But I’d really like to sleep upstairs with you if you want me, and I love to cuddle...?”
And Jim’s grin widened still further as he took the smaller man into his arms, bestowing a gentle but thorough kiss on the lush lips before pulling back a little as he smiled softly down into the beautiful blue eyes looking up at him with such love.
“Oh, I want, Chief, I want! Now and forever.” And they kissed again to seal their pact of love.
THE END