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“You are a very interesting young man. I hope to get to know you better.”
Jesse fought dizziness. Then, thankfully the haemophile stepped away and his vision unblurred.
“Greenway will take you home. And I’ll send a car for you tomorrow.”
“And Kingston?”
Magnusson chuckled softly. “Rest assured, I’ll be firing him before I leave this building.”
He walked away, his steps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Greenway appeared at Jesse’s elbow.
“Ready?”
Jesse took a moment to stare at the envelope, business card and the half-drank beer. Then he stood, grabbed the envelope and card and downed the beer.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Chapter Four
When Jesse opened his eyes in the dim light of the following morning, he spent some time trying to convince himself it had all been a dream. But then he saw the envelope of cash on the chair next to his bed.
He sat up, tugged his hands through his matted hair and willed it to start making sense. When it wouldn’t, he sighed and pushed the covers back, shivering in the chill, and padded to his desk. The screens were reeling news, searches and forum updates. He loaded the deep search he’d set running the night before but, so far, it had only found the mainstream articles on Magnusson and other haemophile affairs that had been circulating for weeks. There were no hits containing Jesse’s name. Relief washed through him but then saw there was a hit on one of his sub-searches.
Trixy had tweeted in the early hours of the morning.
I got arrested tonight in the pursuit of truth. They want to hide in the dark, but it’s time to shine a light.
It had thousands of likes, comments and shares. Debate as to her meaning spread out from the post like a stain. Even when he found no elaboration from Trixy and no mention of Oswald House or Magnusson, concern still fogged his insides.
His phone buzzed. He winced and hunted through his discarding clothing until he found it. There were five missed calls—three from Trixy, two from his brother.
Jess, WTF? Ring me FFS.
Trixy’s text was followed by a series of emojis he couldn’t untangle. He rubbed his aching head and made for the bathroom.
He closed his eyes and let the hot water run over his head. He took himself in hand to take care of his morning wood then stilled when he realized he was imagining the large, strong hands of the Undying Baron. He quivered like a bowstring, crushing his eyes shut and willing the image to leave his mind—but his brain wouldn’t obey.
Jesse was pinned to the table in the vineyard restaurant, his back arched, his shoulders straining under the powerful haemophile’s hold. Magnusson’s teeth were scraping down his neck and chest. His breath was hot against Jesse’s skin. His free hand gripped Jesse’s thigh so tight that his sharp fingernails pricked his flesh. His voice was hot and heavy, and his powerful body restrained him as effectively as if he were chained.
Jesse moaned, beating himself harder. But then the Magnusson in his mind reared up, his blue eyes blazing, red mouth gaping, face a twisted, inhuman mask. He crushed Jesse’s bones until they snapped, then plunged his teeth into his neck.
Jesse staggered against the wall. He breathed until the sick feeling passed. He turned the water off with a curse and climbed out with shaking legs, his arousal draining out of him faster than the water down the plughole.
He stared at himself in the mirror. The water dripped from the ends of his black hair. His green eyes were shadowed…haunted. He swallowed, rubbing his wrist, summoning the memories of Tyler, of Sid, of Jonny and all the others to wash out the images of the baron. Lastly, he thought of Glen, first tender and smiling, then grimacing when he found out what Jesse really needed from him. He sighed and grabbed a towel.
It was getting on for midday by the time he left his flat. The cold sun was high in the gray winter sky. The pavements were slick with frozen slush. He walked as fast as he dared, heading to the bank to deposit enough of the cash to buy credit for his phone. Then he went to the nearest pub, ordered a coffee and a bacon roll and rang Trixy.
“Fucking hell, Jess,” Trixy said, voice high and squeaky. “About time. Where the fuck have you been?”
“Home,” Jesse said, sipping the coffee, grateful for the warmth and the normal, earthy taste. “It was a bit full-on yesterday, you know? I kinda passed out.”
A pause. “Did you know I’d trip that alarm?”
“What?”
“I saw your face when it went off, Jesse. You were relieved.”
“Trix—”
