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He followed Hollis back through the house and into the kitchen. Cabinets had been pulled down, and more paint had been thrown onto walls, counters and the small, cherry table that had been really cute. Hollis ended his call and stared despondently at the destruction that had been his home. Exhaustion lined every inch of that six-foot-plus frame. He lifted his blue eyes to Ian and their usual vibrancy was missing. “I don’t know, Ian.”
“You don’t know what?”
Hollis ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know that I have any business being in a relationship right now.” He kicked a cabinet door. “I’m actually out of a job and from what my captain just told me, I’ll be lucky if I’m not brought up on charges.”
That thought ripped a hole in Ian’s chest. He shook his head. “But all those kids. You saved them. That has to mean something, right?”
“It does. And they’re happy Jagger is out of the picture, but there’s gonna be a mess of interviews and more. A lot more. It’s not going to be easy.” He waved his hand. “I don’t have a job and now, I don’t even have a home.”
Ian took a step closer to him, his shoe jamming into a huge chunk of broken wood. “You think that matters to me? I care that this happened to your place and I care that you’re worried about what you’re going to do. Those things matter to me. You hurting matters to me. I hate that this is happening to you, but it changes nothing of how I feel or what I want. And that’s you. However you come to me.”
Hollis stared at him as he rubbed his hand over his bruised jaw. He winced, then chuckled. “Fuck, what a mess.”
“We’ll figure this out. Okay?” Ian slid his arm around Hollis’s waist, careful of his ribs. “I meant it when I said I loved you, and I believed you when you said it.”
“I do.” Hollis turned his nose into Ian’s hair.
“Then stop worrying about us. That part isn’t a problem.” He looked around the trashed kitchen. “I’m so sorry about this. There is so much…rage here.” He shook his head. “I know he was probably pissed that you got into his world so easily, but that doesn’t explain this kind of tantrum.”
“That does.” Hollis pointed to a wall across the room.
There was a knife pinning something to the drywall. Ian let go of Hollis and picked his way over the broken cabinets and dishes to stand in front of a picture of himself. It had been crumpled because broken lines zig-zagged throughout, but what confused him was it was an image of him as a teenager, wearing a short, skintight swimsuit he remembered hating with every fiber of his being. Dark, ugly bruises covered his wrists and there was a bad one shadowing his jaw. He knew when that picture had been taken—after one of Jagger’s parties. Shame burrowed into his lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Why would this be here?” he whispered.
“My foray into playing outside the law with you guys wasn’t the first. Snow and I found a lot of pictures of you in one of the houses Dwight Gratton had been using as a hideout. Your friend talked me into taking them all down so you wouldn’t be tied into that mess.”
That sounded exactly like something the over-protective surgeon would do, but Hollis agreeing sent shock and…warmth through him. “Something else to get you into trouble.” Ian turned and frowned at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want them to see those pictures either.” Hollis growled out the words, his hands tightening into fists. “I destroyed all of them but that one and I kept it as a reminder of why that man had to be put away. I hate what he did to you, Ian. That hate fueled months of my undercover work. Fuck, the look on your face in that picture.” He closed his eyes. “It haunted me.”
Ian glanced at it again. “It’s just a bruise, Hollis.”
“I’m not talking about the bruise.” Hollis stepped over the debris and stared at the picture as he pulled Ian into his arms. “It’s your eyes. The first thing I noticed about you were your big, brown eyes. So kind and so…caring. Those eyes are nothing like the ones in that picture.”
He stared at himself, seeing that the bruise also circled one eye. But it was the look in them that struck him then. Blank. He’d been staring into Jagger’s pool with his features purposely flat, purposely expressionless. He remembered that day with a stab of pain in his chest. Remembered that Jagger had been there, lounging and watching him, smirking because Ian hadn’t been able to hide himself in the kitchen the night before. He’d been dragged against his will into the game room and become the night’s entertainment for a group of men. On the pool table. He shuddered at the memory.
