Part 4


“Hold up, little man.”

Justin paused, one hand on the doorknob to the garage, the other holding is car keys. “What?”

Eric moved over to where Justin was standing. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

The bodyguard held out his hand out to Justin, palm up. “No, you’re not. Not by yourself. Not even with just me. Only with me and Mike, and Mike isn’t here.”

Justin blinked. “I’m not allowed to go out?”

“Not by yourself.” Eric shook his head. “Come on, J. Don’t be stupid.” He waved his hand in front of Justin. “We’ll go where you want, as soon as Mike gets back.”

Justin gripped his keys tighter. “This is fucked, man.” He moved closer to the door, only to have Eric block his way.

“It’s for your own good, bro.”

Justin slammed the keys into Eric’s hand. “There’s some psycho out there loose, and I’m the one in fucking jail.”

Eric shrugged, pocketing the keys. “Don’t be like that, J. C thought it best if you had extra protection, and stayed home if there weren’t two of us available.”

“JC thought?” Justin narrowed his eyes. “This is JC’s idea? To keep me locked up like I’m the criminal?”

“J, don’t think of it like that. He’s just trying to keep you safe.”

“It’s bullshit, man,” Justin growled, pulling out his phone and punching in a number. “Total bullshit.” Eric just shrugged again, opening the refrigerator and pulling out water. “Trace,” Justin said into the phone. “Dude, I won’t be coming over. It’s like fucking Oz here, and the screws won’t let me out.” He listened to Trace for a moment, eyeing Eric as the bodyguard moved into the living room, flopping down to the couch. Justin glanced at his watch. “Yeah, okay,” he said, closing his phone.

This really was fucked, he thought. Some weirdo fan is out there, in the sunshine, moving around doing whatever they wanted, and Justin was stuck in the fucking house with the fucking bodyguards doing absolutely fucking nothing. He wasn’t going to stand for it. He wasn’t going to let the psycho win. Justin went up the stairs to the one of the guest rooms that was situated at the front of the house. He opened the curtains, watching outside, smiling as a car approached, parking on the curb in front of the house. Justin opened the window, crawled to sit on the windowsill, gathered up his courage and with a quick prayer, jumped to the ground. He rolled away from the front window, crouching down and peering inside. Shit. Eric was waking to the front door; he must have seen Justin drop down. Rising from his crouch, Justin sprinted across the lawn to the car, jumping into the open door and waving a jaunty goodbye to Eric as the bodyguard stood in the door way.

***

“Mr. Chasez, thanks for bringing that Website to our attention, but…”

JC glared when Det. Kirby’s voice trailed off. “What? You can’t trace it?”

“Sir, it’s only been a few hours since we’ve gotten the information,” Det. Matthews said. “It takes time for our forensic officers to find and trace this kind of information.”

“Why?” JC demanded. He realized he sounded sharp and hard, and yes, his voice was rising, but dammit, this was Justin’s life they were talking about! He didn’t have time to be nice about things. “Can’t you just call the Webmaster, or the service provider, or whatever, and find out who owns the site?”

Kirby and Matthews exchanged a look. “We’re working on it, Mr. Chasez.” Kirby said. “We’ve already discovered that the IP address is on a private server. Right now, we’re trying to execute a warrant for the server’s customers.”

“Once we have that, we can do a background check on the server’s customers,” Matthews said. “We’ll see who’s local, who’s not, and find out where they were on the day of the accident.”

“You have to give us time, Mr. Chasez,” Kirby said. “None of this can be accomplished overnight.”

“Just have Mr. Timberlake stay at home as much as possible, or with your private security,” Matthews instructed. “Don’t open any suspicious mail, and stay alert.”

JC’s eyes moved from one to the other, bouncing back and forth like a tennis match. He knew they were right, but it was hard not to help. “I understand,” he finally said, slumping into a chair. “I’m just…so frustrated,” he told them, looking up at the policemen. “And I’m scared.”

“That’s understandable,” Kirby allowed. “But we’re doing everything we can.”

A cell phone rang, and it took a minute for JC to realize it was his. He pulled it out of a pocket, frowning at the number on the caller ID. “What’s up?” he asked Eric.

“JC, man, he’s gone.”

JC’s blood froze. “Gone?”

“Gone, man. Jumped out the upstairs, and drove away with Trace.”

“Wait, what?” JC asked. “He’s gone…with Trace?”

“Little bastard was going to go out, but I stopped him,” Eric explained. “Next thing I knew, he was out the window and running across the yard, jumping into Trace’s car.” A honk sounded over the phone. “I tried to follow them, but I lost them down Mullholland. Now I’m just cruising on Sunset, trying to spot Trace’s car.”

“Jesus,” JC sighed. “Did you call?”

“I’m not stupid, C,” Eric scolded. “Yes, I called him. But he knows my number, and let it roll to voice mail.”

“Let me try,” JC suggested. “Call if you find him, but don’t approach him, let me get there first.” A beep sounded in JC’s ear. “Hold up, Eric.” He switched to the other call, then back to Eric. “That was Mike, Eric. Justin just came home.”

“That was fast,” Eric said, surprised.

“Yeah, makes me wonder,” JC mused. “I’ll be home in a bit.” He closed his phone, turning to the detectives. “I don’t suppose there’s anyway to lock Justin up for me, is there?”

The two men shook their heads. “No,” Matthews said. “But maybe this will help,” he continued, handing JC a paper sack.

JC looked inside, his eyes lighting at the contents.

***

Justin watched as JC walked into the house, passed him in the living room, then proceeded up to climb the stairs, all without a word or a glance or anything. He bit his thumbnail, exchanging a glance with Eric and Mike and Trace, and then followed JC up.

Justin leaned in the doorway of their bedroom, watching JC as he tossed a bag on the bed, then kick off his shoes. “I'm sorry, Jayce,” he said, coming into the room and sitting on the bed. “It was stupid of me to run off, and cause everyone to worry, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

JC continued to ignore him, pulling off his shirt before going into the bathroom and shutting the door. “JC! I mean it! I’m really sorry, and I know I was dumb, but come on! It’s hard being stuck here all the time.” Justin heard the toilet flush and water run, and soon, JC appeared. He’d taken off his jeans, and came out of the bathroom wearing just boxers and an undershirt.

JC strolled to the bed, standing close to Justin, looking down at the boy, a small smile on his face. Justin was torn by JC’s actions. On one hand, he realized JC was mad at him, madder than JC was letting on. The smile on his lips was not reaching his eyes; they were cold and angry and glaring at Justin. On the other hand, JC was standing right next to him, practically naked, his scent invading Justin’s senses, the sight of his rising erection at Justin’s eyelevel and now both hands were itching to grab the older man and toss him on the bed. “C…what’s going on?” Justin asked. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

JC leaned down, ghosting his lips over Justin’s ear before nibbling the lobe. “What is there to say?” he whispered. “You’re an adult, you make your own decisions. I obviously can’t stop you from leaving if you want,” he continued with swipe of tongue over Justin’s ear. “Can I?”

Justin swallowed. His hands reached out, running up the back of JC’s thighs, grasping the hard muscle of JC’s ass and pulling the other man closer. He buried his face in JC’s warm stomach. “You know you can get me to do anything,” he told JC, pulling up JC’s shirt with his teeth to nip at his skin. “It’s just…today…it just got to me,” he explained, looking up at JC with imploring eyes. “I hate this.”

JC nodded. “I know you do. But listen to me.” JC removed Justin’s hands from around him and pulled them over Justin’s head, laying the younger man back on the bed. JC quickly straddled Justin, pinning him into place with his hips and his chest, their faces close. “You’re really in danger, Justin. There’s a crazy person out there who’s burned your hands and has almost run you over, then laughed about it publicly. You have to realize that the danger exists, that you could get hurt again, and that you won’t take this kind of reckless chance again.”

“You just said it was my decision to make.”

“It is,” JC agreed. “But I’m hoping you’ll decide on the side of safety, and not the side of stupidity.”

Justin averted his eyes. “I’m really sorry,” he told JC again.

JC’s hand caressed Justin’s arms. “Jumping out the window, Justin?”

“Yeah, and I think I hurt my ankle again.”

“Will you stay close to home, or go out with the bodyguards?”

Justin nodded. “I will,” he asked, hearing a crumple of paper above him. He tried to look, but his position under JC didn’t let for much movement. “What’s in the bag?” he asked.

“Hmm, a present.”

“For me?”

“Maybe,” JC teased, leaning up on Justin and quickly fastening the handcuff to Justin’s wrist and the bed. “But more for me, I think.”

Justin’s eyes widened as he jangled the cuff against the headboard. JC just smiled, hopping off the bed and walking to the door. “You’re not leaving me here, are you?’ Justin said, straining against the handcuff.

“God, no,” JC laughed, opening the door. “Hey, guys?” he called down the stairs. “We’re staying in the rest of the day. Can you set the alarm on your way out?” With that, he reentered the bedroom and shut the door.

Justin eyed JC as the older man crawled onto the bed again, moving slowly up Justin’s body before laying flat on him. “Now then,” he said, nipping at Justin’s mouth. “Where were we?” He straddled Justin’s hips again, pressing down. “Oh, yes. We were right…here.”

***

He pulled out his phone, frowning at the number. “What?” he asked, juggling the bags in his hands.

“Can you meet me outside the store?”

“What?”

“I need you to meet me outside the store.”

He peered through the window, seeing a familiar car parked at the curb. He looked around, noticing the bodyguard was still in line. He nodded to the bodyguard, and then walked through the pneumatic doors to the waiting car. He leaned down and glared into the car. “What is it, Trace?” But there was no Trace in the car.

A shadowy figure spoke from the backseat. “Get in and slide to the drivers side.”

“Who are you? What are you doing with Trace’s car?”

“Get in now.” A glint of metal showed, and his eyes widened at the sight of the gun. “I have him, you know. If you want to see him alive again, you’ll get in and drive.”

He opened the car door, dropping his grocery bags onto the sidewalk and scooting behind the wheel. “Have you hurt him?” he asked.

“Start the car and drive,” the voice said, the gun poking into his back.

JC started the car



next

Email: whatweallwishfor@yahoo.com