The Surprise
Abe pointed out the electric sockets over his postage stamp-size counter and in the corner above the baseboard, and then stepped to the side as Finn squeezed past him. Finn's sleeve brushed his arm, and he inhaled a scent that reminded him of an April sunrise; sharp, earthy, restless, and filled with the promise of warmth. The fine hairs on his arm tingled.
He pressed his hands to his stomach, trying to calm the butterflies that were dancing there. No, they were probably moths. With crusty brown singe marks on the edges of their wings.
He wished he could blame the tickle of excitement on hunger -- he was growing later by the minute for dinner and his surprise party -- but if it was hunger, it was a kind that couldn't be satisfied with food.
This was a superficial physical attraction, that's all; a natural reaction to a physically appealing man. After all, he was gay man in his sexual prime, right? But he had taken a detour down that road and knew better than to trust it. He didn't want to acknowledge the bump of his pulse each time he looked at Finn. He should be ignoring his appearance and regarding him with the same polite, professional distance with which he treated the building superintendent or the cable guy or the men who had delivered his new sofa.
Then why couldn't he? Was it the sense of intimacy from the semidarkness, or was it the way Finn moved? It wasn't only Finn's appearance that drew him. For a large man, Finn was light on his feet. He had the total body control of a dancer, making each movement a smoothly coordinated sequence of toned muscles working in harmony. Abe could easily imagine the way Finn would be flexing and bulging under that soft flannel shirt and those snug jeans...
But he shouldn't. No, he wasn't going to picture Finn's muscles or anything else for that matter. He wasn't going to watch as Finn hitched up his tool belt and leaned over to look in the corner under the table...even if he did have the firmest, most perfectly formed set of buns he had ever seen.
"No luck in here," Finn said straightening up. "Where is your bedroom?"
The kitchen seemed to shrink as Finn moved past him. Considering Finn's height and the breath of his shoulders, he should have felt uncomfortable to be men.
It must have been the way Finn had mentioned his nephews. Any man who willingly claimed he liked children couldn't be all bad. He was a history buff too, which meant that they had something in common. Finn took his job seriously, so he was a hard worker and would be a good provider. He was hurrying because he didn't want to disappoint his parent. Everything he had said would lead an unbiased, unprejudiced observer to assume that he was a nice, stable, family-oriented guy. Exactly the kind of man Abe hoped to marry someday...
Abe grimaced, chagrined by the direction of his thoughts. Marriage was on his brain because of today's date, but he wasn't pathetic enough to think Finn really could be a karmic birthday gift; was he?
Finn spent even less time checking the outlets in his bedroom than he had in the kitchen. It couldn't have been two minutes before me moved on to his bathroom. He had to duck his head to get past the spider plant that Abe had hung from the ceiling. "Nothing here, either," Finn said. "Maybe in the living room after all."
His pace was increasing -- it seemed that he had barely touched those plugs in the bathroom. He must be anxious to finish up so he could go home, as he had said. He muttered something under his breath as he ran into the avocado plant again.
"I'll have to move the fig tree if you want to check the outlet beside the balcony door." Abe said. "The pot would be in the way."
"No, I can get it."
"Better let me. It's a bit finicky. It's been dropping leaves lately, so I have to be careful how I handle it." He went to Finn's side and leaned down to grab the edge of the pot. It had just started to slide across the carpet when he heard Finn make a sudden exclamation.
"Got it."
He turned his head. Finn was crouched beside him and his face was level with Finn's, so he had a close up view of the smile that flickered over Finn's face. It wasn't charming or friendly like the other ones he had seen. It was ...hard.
Finn caught his gaze, and his smile instantly eased.
It had been a trick of the lighting, Abe decided. Anyone's face could look hard when it was lit by a flashlight from below, as all kids who had ever told a ghost story around a campfire knew.
"Okay, I'm almost done." Finn pushed aside Abe's leather bag and the stray backpack that he had dropped beside the plant and then slid his screwdriver into a slot in his tool belt.
"I'll need to open up the electric box here, so, for your own safety, I'm going to ask you to leave the apartment now."
Abe sat back on his heels. A fig leaf wafted downward and settled on his lap. "What do you mean?"
"It's routine, in case something goes wrong. The power company would be held liable if you got accidentally injured while I was doing repairs."
"I can't see why I need to leave. That seems excessive. I'll just stand out of the way and..."
"I'm sorry, sir, but you are going to have to leave."
"If it's that dangerous, shouldn't you be wearing protective clothing or something?"
"Don't worry about me, I'm a trained professional." Finn placed his hand on Abe's elbow and gently but firmly helped him stand up.
Abe looked at the place where Finn held his arm... although, he didn't really need to look because he felt what Finn was doing with every of his senses.
"It will only take a few minutes," he said. "I know you are in as much of a hurry as I am, so I would appreciate your cooperation."
Before Abe could form a reply, there was a sudden commotion from the corridor outside his apartment; men's voices raised in anger.
"Hey, take it easy," someone shouted. "Watch where you are going."
"Get out of my way, idiot," a heavily accented voice said.
"You could have broken my nose, slamming through the doorway like that."
There was a spurt of muttered words that Abe couldn't make out. They sounded foreign.
Finn tightened his grip on his elbow and pulled him toward the door. "Please, Mister. You are going to have to get out," he said. "Right now."
"But I can't just..."
Something heavy slammed into his apartment door.
"Oh, my God," Abe said. "They are fighting out there. The blackout must be making them panic."
Finn switched direction pulling Abe back toward the balcony door. "They are coming in; we are going to use the balcony door."
"What?" Abe tried to tug his arm free, but Finn's fingers couldn't be budged. "Who's coming in? What do you mean we have to use..."
Something hit Abe's door again. There was a sharp shattering sound.
Finn shoved the fig tree to one side with his foot and lunged for the balcony door. It slid open only a few inches before it was stopped dead by the broom handle Abe kept for security reasons in the sliding door's track.
"What are you doing?" he said.
The apartment door burst inward and slammed against the wall. Three men rushed in.
Before Abe could draw breath to say a word, Finn spun him behind him. "Get down," he ordered.
Abe hadn't meant to obey him -- he hadn't even registered what Finn had said -- but he stumbled over the fig tree and lost his footing, going down to his knees anyway. More leaves rained down around him.
The intruders were silhouetted against the emergency lighting from the corridor. The men were black; two were short and one appeared to be holding a...
"Oh, my God, he's got a gun," Abe said.
The words had barely left his mouth when Finn made a sudden movement. The flashlight he had been holding hurtled across the room and struck the armed man in the wrist: his gun fell into the avocado plant.
They must be looters, Abe thought, groping on the floor for his bag. He had heard of looting in prolonged power failures, but he had never dreamed it could happen so fast, and in his building.
The two short men babbled something incompressible and took out more guns. Abe saw the metal gleam in the light from the hall and screamed a warning to Finn.
Instead of retreating, Finn advanced on the intruders. He unbuckled his tool belt, hung on to one end and whirled it through the air. The heavy, tool-laden, hard leather pouch was suddenly a weapon. It made a clinking thud as it connected with the closet man's head.
The man crumpled and fell on the floor. Finn swung the tool belt again, dispatching a second man with the same brutal speed.
Abe clutched his purse to his chest and scooted backward, his shoes sliding through the leaves that now littered the carpet. What had happened to the nice, stable guy who liked children and had dinner with his parents? He was fighting off three armed looters all by himself, as if he did that kind of thing every day.
The tall man, the one Finn had hit with the flashlight, was clawing at the avocado plant, and likely looking for the gun he had dropped.
In a move that Abe had only seen in movies, Finn spun around on one foot, swinging his other foot in an arc that connected with the tall man's jaw. The looter flew sideways into the bookshelf. A geranium that had been on the top shelf wobbled and crashed on his head. He didn't move again.
"Oh, my God," Abe struggled to draw a breath. His pulse was pounding so hard and his lungs didn't work. "Oh, my God."
"They are down," Finn said.
He stated that as if he were making a report, Abe thought. He ran a hand over his face, his fingers shaking. "Oh, my God!" he repeated. "What...who?"
"Throw the switch. We are getting out now." Finn buckled his tool belt over his hips and strode over to where Abe was crouching.
Switch? What switch? "But..." he shook his head, still trying to absorb what had happened. "Police. We have to call the police."
"Later." Finn leaned down and reached past him to pick something up from the floor.
It was the backpack he had brought home from the class trip, he realized. "What are you doing?" he asked.
Finn slung the strap of the pack over one shoulder and reached down to grasp his arm. "Damage control," he said.
"What? I don't understand. Why?"
"Later," Finn interrupted. He pulled Abe to his feet with a strength that would have surprised him two minutes ago, before he had seen Finn in action. "Right now, we have to get you out before more of them show up."
"More? Do you mean more looters? But that's why we have to call the police."
Finn shifted his grip from Abe's arm to his wrist and started for the door. "We'll call them from somewhere safe."
Abe stumbled after Finn, stepping over the unconscious men who lay sprawled on his floor. Pot shads crunched under Finn's feet. "All right, maybe we should call the police from somewhere else, but..."
His words cut off as the lights came on. He squinted at the sudden brilliance, and then gasped at the scene the light revealed.
His neat, orderly apartment was in shambles. Leaves, potting soil and bright red geranium petals were scattered everywhere. The men he had stepped over weren't merely unconscious, they were bleeding. He felt his stomach roll as he saw the damages the tool belt and Finn's foot had done to their faces.
And why had the power come back on when Finn hadn't done any repairs?
And why on earth did Finn want that green backpack?
The caution he should have felt ten minutes ago when Finn had first talked his way into his apartment finally asserted itself. He braced his feet and hung on the broken door frame with his free hand before Finn could drag him through. "Let go of my wrist," he said.
Finn turned toward him. This was the first time he had seen his face clearly. He saw details now that he hadn't seen before: laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the hint of a cleft in the center of his chin, the shadow of a dark beard along the sharp edge of his jaw.
He was as startlingly handsome as before, but something was different. There was no flashlight beam to light his features from below, so there was no way to mistake what he saw. There was more going on behind those sparkling blue eyes than he had assumed. Finn's expression was more than hard: it was predatory.
"Abraham, please." Finn relaxed the hold on Abe's wrist and placed his hands on Abe's shoulders. "We have to get away from this apartment."
"No, you go ahead. I'll..."
"I can't risk your safety by leaving you here." He looked toward the stairwell. "There could be more men on their way."
"How do you know that?" Abe inhaled sharply, realizing what Finn had just said. "And how do you know my name?"
Finn met his gaze squarely. His eyes probed his for a few tense seconds. "All right. I've got no choice. Keep running the security checks, and we'll sort it out later."
Finn was still looking directly at him, but Abe had the feeling that he was talking to someone else.
"Are you going to come with me, Mister Locke?" Finn asked.
Abe's mind was reeling. There was simply too much to take in, to figure out, try to make sense of. He shook his head.
"I should have known that you wouldn't do this the easy way," Finn muttered. In a move too swift to follow, he leaned forward, wrapped one arm around the back of Abe's knees and straightened up, flinging him over his shoulder.
Abe tried to scream, but the force of Finn's shoulder hitting his stomach had knocked him breathless. His head bounced against Finn's back as Finn jogged to the elevator. Abe hit Finn with the bag he was somehow still clutching but the blows had no effect -- beneath his loose shirt, he was built like a brick wall. Abe clawed at the backpack Finn carried over his shoulder in an attempt to lift himself up.
"Put me down!" he gasped. "What do you think...?"
"I'll explain everything later, Abe," Finn said, carrying him into the elevator. "We are using the central Car, Wildman. I'll need a control override so it won't stop on the way down."
"What? Who's Wildman?"
The doors slid shut, and the car started downward. It plummeted past the floors without showing any signs of slowing. Just as Finn had said, it didn't stop.
Abe wriggled, trying to kick free from Finn's grasp.
Finn tightened his grip on Abe's legs. "Please, don't do that, Abe. You are only making this more difficult. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."
Abe's fingers latched on to the backpack's buckle. He braced his arm against its side and lifted his head just as the buckle snapped. The pack had been crammed so full the top flap sprang open the moment the pressure from the buckle was released.
Abe went still. He had wondered briefly about what was in this pack, but he hadn't bothered to look. He had known children liked to carry an incredible amount of paraphernalia with them, so he hadn't found the weight that unusual. Nor had he been surprised that the owner hadn't claimed it. His classroom was full of items that had been left behind.
But judging by what he could see poking out of the top of the green backpack, he was certain this pack didn't belong to one of his students.
Money. The pack wasn't full of Pokémon cards; it was stuffed with money. Thick bundled wads of it. So much that he could actually smell it.
It couldn't be real. No, this must be some kind of joke, and the wad of bills next to his nose had to be from a board game with very, very realistic props...
Game? Joke? Those looters who had broken into his apartment had been dead serious, as was the blood on their faces and the vicious way Finn had fought them.
The looters? Had they been after the money? How had they known he had it, when he hadn't known he had it? And why had Finn grabbed this pack...unless he too had known what it contained.
Something clicked in his bran. This is what Finn had been after all along. He was no electrician. He had lied. He had used that story to get into his apartment.
And he had believed every word. He had looked at the charming smile and those oh-so-sweet dimples and he had been so sure he had Finn's number, but he hadn't, had he? He'd thought he had learned his lesson about believing handsome men, but he had been played for a fool. Again.
Dammit, he should have followed his instincts and slammed that door while had had the chance.
What was he mixed up in?
The elevator bypassed the ground floor. It didn't stop until it reached the first level of the basement parking garage.
Where was Finn taking him?
And why in God's name was he letting him?
Finn shifted his grip, sliding him down the front of his body until Abe was standing on his feet. The instant the doors opened, Finn fastened one arm around Abe's waist, drew him against his side and started forward.
Abe didn't wait for answers to any of his questions. He didn't pause for regrets or self-recrimination. He reached for the screwdriver on Finn's belt, yanked it out of its slot and drove it as hard as he could into Finn's arm.
Finn muttered a sharp oath and loosened his grip for a vital second.
Abe dropped the screwdriver, twisted out of Finn's grip and ran.
"Mister Locke, stop!"
At the shout from behind him, Abe moved faster. He darted toward the nearest row of cars, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cavernous garage. His parking lot was on the next level down. Should he try to make it to the car, or head for the exit ramp? He glanced over his shoulder.
Finn was following him. He was pressing his hand against his forearm and Abe could see blood on his fingers. His stomach churned. How badly had he hurt Finn?
"Abraham!"
He veered to the right, choosing to try to reach the exit instead of his car. The sooner he got outside, where he could get help, the better his chances of escaping this... this... whatever he was mixed up in.
"Block all the exits," Finn said. "He is heading for the ramp."
Finn's voice was low and hard. Who was he talking to? Was he crazy? Abe looped the strap of his bag around his neck and broke into a sprint, his arms pumping as he gulped in air. His foot hit a patch of oil as he followed the ramp around a pillar. He slid sideways and crashed into the wall.
"Abe, please stop!" Finn called. "We are not going to hurt you."
We? We? Abe slapped his hands against the cement wall and pushed off. He didn't see the van that was coming down the ramp until it was directly in front of him.
Tires screeched as the vehicle skidded to a halt. A trim blond woman in a yellow cardigan set stared through the windshield at him, then opened the driver's door and hopped out. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I didn't hit you, did I?'
Abe heard footsteps pound on the ramp behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Finn was steadily closing the distance between them.
Finn's jaw clenched and the sleeve over his forearm glistening dark red. Abe whipped his gaze back to the woman from the van and made a slit-second decision. "Please. You've got to help me," he said, racing around the hood of the car to the passenger's door. "That man is crazy. I need to get out of here and call the police."
The woman didn't hesitate. Abe had barely pulled the door closed behind him when the woman slid behind the wheel, flipped the power locks on the door and threw the van into reverse.
Abe braced his hand on the dashboard, trying to catch his breath. He saw Finn had stopped running. His lips moved, as if he were talking to himself again.
"No problem, Sergeant," the woman said. "I'll take it from here."
Finn smiled and lifted his bloody hand to his forehead in a crisp salute.
Abe whipped his gaze back to his rescuer.
The blond woman palmed the wheel as she changed gears, expertly sending the minivan into a skidding half circle so that it was pointing up the ramp instead of down. She gave Abe a tight smile. "Relax, Mister Locke. If you had the good sense to run away from Braveheart, then you won't have any trouble understanding what I am about to tell you."
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