Page 12 of Loving Trent (Love in the Bootheel #5)

Eight

TRENT

Mentally, I’m wrestling with the beast to shove him back inside his cage as the ambulance whisks away a still-unconscious Shawn.

I’m not sure what the fuck that was or where this beast came from, but he needs to calm the hell down.

I’m in charge here, not him, and getting wrapped up in Shawn Foster isn’t smart for multiple reasons.

“Sir, I really think you should go to the hospital to get your hand checked out, and your lungs,” the female EMT who was the only one to calm me down moments ago says.

I pull my hand out of hers and look at the red skin, not really feeling any pain.

“And I said that I’m fine.” One thing that stuck with me from my time at camp is that I have a deep-seated dislike for doctors.

I don’t trust any of them. Uncle Joey would have to force me to go.

I would literally scream at him whenever I got sick, and he told me I had to go get checked out.

Plus, the caged beast likes the idea of going to the hospital way too much.

As I step around the woman, an authoritative voice comes from behind me, halting my retreat. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to insist that you go.”

Turning around slowly, I take in the short, pot-belly man standing behind me. His black police uniform looks like it’s in the fight of its life. “You going to arrest me if I refuse?” I raise my brows, inviting him to try it. I know my rights, and this fucker can suck my balls.

He sighs as if I’m frustrating him to no end. “Look, I’m not in the mood to get into a pissing contest with you. I have more questions for you. We can either do that from the comfort of a hospital room, or I can haul you in. Your choice, big guy.”

Fuck this. I don’t want to do this at the station because I don’t want my real name to be revealed.

At the hospital, I can lie. I have the required documentation to back up the fake name I plan on using.

Without saying anything to the asshat that is forcing my hand, I step into the back of the ambulance.

I let the EMT hook me up to check my vitals and put an oxygen mask on me.

My original plan was to get the hell out of town before I lose control again.

But like all my plans recently, that one goes up in flames.

Thankfully, when we get to the hospital, a nurse, whom I can deal with, comes in first. He looks at my hand, goes through the routine to check my vitals, and checks my oxygen level.

My anxiety is low with him. After he leaves, a young woman from registration comes in to take my personal information and insurance, which I don’t have.

But I pay the required fee to prove that I will pay the bill when it’s generated.

But then the curtain opens again, and an older female doctor walks in, looking at her clipboard. “Mr. Alster Tomlin?”

“Yeah,” I say, fighting against the tightening in my throat and the unease in my gut. Refusing to be in another hospital bed, my ass is sitting in the chair usually used by guests.

“I’m Doctor Laurie. I need to check your hand.

The nurse noted that there was no concern on his part, but I’d like to make that decision myself.

Then I’d like to order a chest x-ray to check out your lungs.

” She starts toward me, but I stand up. The walls are suddenly moving closer, pressing against my chest, and I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Actually, I’m good to go. Unlike you, I believe the nurse, and I’m sure there is someone else out there who needs this space more than me.”

Dr. Laurie’s brows disappear under her bangs.

“Sir, I must advise you not to leave until I’ve checked you over.

” She takes another step toward me, and even though I want to step back, I force my legs to stay still.

I might be on the verge of a panic attack, but I’m not going to show an ounce of fear in the face of this stranger.

“And I’d advise you to get out of my way,” I say, my tone dark and full of malice.

Making sure to not get close to her, my hands rip the curtain back so hard that some hooks break.

Oh well, they can bill me for that as well.

Given my size and the fuck off look I’m sure is plastered on my face, I don’t worry about anyone trying to stop me.

I keep my head down, running through the techniques Maria taught me to combat the panic attack.

I head toward the right and around the corner.

The exit is straight ahead of me. The red light of the sign is burning brightly like a beacon in the dark of night.

Nothing can stop me, or so I think, until I hear his voice.

The door to room twelve is cracked, making it easy for me to hear everything.

“Steven, I told you to leave. I don’t even know how you found out I was here, but I don’t want you here.

” Shawn sounds tired and frustrated, making my hand clench, and my feet move toward the door. The bars on that cage rattle loudly.

“Baby,” another male says, and my hackles raise. Oh, fuck that. If anyone is going to call him baby, it’s going to be me.

“Fucking stop, Steven. I told you it’s over. I’m done. I don’t want to see you. Ever again.” There is pain and fear in Shawn’s voice, and the urge to bust the door open and remove this Steven guy is strong, but now isn’t the right time to lose control.

“Look, what happened was a misunderstanding.”

“You strangling me after destroying my apartment, slapping me across the face, and telling me how horrible I was, how unlovable I am, was no fucking miscommunication or a misunderstanding. It was straight-up abuse, and you need to leave. Now.” Shawn’s voice teeters on yelling, and hearing the pain still lacing his words is like pouring acid on my self-control restraints.

My vision goes red. Hot red anger floods my body, but the sound of feet moving toward Shawn’s door from the inside makes me move.

Keeping my gaze focused on the floor, I start walking toward the exit.

All of my senses are focused on the man behind me as my brain formulates a plan.

This man is about to find out what it feels like to be hurt.

I shove my fist in my jacket pocket as they twitch and tingle in anticipation of hurting the person who dared to touch Shawn with the intention of harming him.

Stepping out into the night, I blend into the building's shadow, pull up my hood, and wait. A minute later, Steven walks out the same door, but he is talking on his phone, completely unaware of me. “I’m telling you. Soon, he will be eating out of my palm again. He can’t resist a good sob story, Marcus.

Shawn will be right back where I want him—with his wallet open, his mouth shut, and my dick in his ass. ”

Keeping my steps light, I prowl behind Steven undetected. Steven laughs, and it sounds like a cat dying. “I’m telling you, I will have my meal ticket again. He knows I’m the best he will ever have.”

Enough’s enough, time to take out some of this rage that has been fueling me for far too long.

Quickly and silently, I close the small distance between us, wrap my arm around his neck, and knock his phone out of his hand.

Steven tries to fight against my hold, but my arm on his neck cuts off his yell and air supply.

My foot comes down on his phone, and the crunch of glass sounds loud in the silence.

“Walk,” I demand, my lips so close to his ear that they brush against it.

He is trembling and still trying to talk, but he does as I said.

We move slowly toward the line of trees across the parking lot.

Once we are clearly hidden, I let him go but twist him around and shove him into the nearest tree.

My hand replaces my arm, keeping him in place.

His pulse beats rapidly against my palm.

I don’t squeeze as much as I want to because I need him to be able to answer my questions.

“Who… are… you?” It’s too dark to see his eyes, but I imagine them wide and wet.

His voice is rough, and his chest hasn’t slowed down.

It’s still rapidly rising, and I wonder how hard his blood is pumping through his body.

Is his heart working overtime so much that he could possibly have a heart attack?

If I plunged my knife into his chest, would his heart pump his blood out so fast that he would die instantly?

“That’s not what you should be worried about.” My lips curl up into a snarl he can’t see, but he definitely heard that growl.

“Look, man, I don’t have any?—”

“The only thing I want from you is to know how badly you hurt him.” My back has to bend thanks to this fucker being so short, but I need him to feel trapped just like Shawn was.

“W…who?”

I tighten my grip on his throat. “How many guys have you verbally and physically abused in the last couple of days?”

Nothing but a small squeak comes from his parted lips.

I snarl and press him harder into the tree.

“Don’t try to speak because honestly, I don’t think I could hear your voice again and not kill you.

Just listen. You will walk away from here, and you will disappear.

I don’t care where you go, but it will be far away.

You will never speak to or see Shawn again.

I’d ask you to nod if you agree, but I’m not giving you the choice.

You do it, or I will make you disappear. ”

I release him and back up slightly.

Steven bends over, coughing harshly and rubbing his throat. “Why?” His voice is rough, and I have no doubt that it hurts to speak.

“Because no one fucks with him and gets away with it,” I growl.

Fuck it. Reaching forward, I grab his right wrist and hold it up.

Steven tries to pull away, but I’m stronger than he is when I’m not driven by rage.

All he manages to do is hurt himself more in the process.

“Is this the hand you wrapped around his throat?”

“Let me go!”

Using my left hand, I punch him in the throat. Effectively cutting off his scream and stealing his ability to breathe. At the same time, I twist his wrist. The bone snaps, but no scream comes from his open mouth. For good measure, I snap the other wrist just in case that hand harmed Shawn.

Steven crumbles to the ground, and I leave him there, not really caring what happens to him as long as he listens to me.

He'd better run far away from here and never talk to Shawn again. I don’t make it far from the crying mess of a boy pretending to be a man.

I find the perfect place to sit and wait.

Lowering myself to the ground with my back against a giant tree, it provides enough shadow that I’m hidden from anyone walking around or coming out of the hospital.

I have a straight view of the door that Shawn should walk through once he is released.

I don’t know what is driving me to stay here or what drove me to do what I did today.

Running into a burning building? That I could explain away as being a good human being. I mean, who in their right mind would stand there and watch someone burn when they could help? Not me.

But pressing my lips against Shawn’s? Where the fuck did that come from?

While I’ve dreamed of kissing guys my whole life, I’ve never acted on those impulses.

By now, with Maria’s help, I’ve learned that being gay isn’t something anyone can control.

Seriously, people need to stop and think about that shit before it comes out of their mouths.

Why would someone willingly choose to make their lives difficult?

They wouldn’t. If two years of torture and sexual assault couldn’t change the way my body, soul, and mind work when it comes to love and attraction, that means that it can’t be changed.

Is there still a tiny part of me that worries that the people I love most won’t accept me? Yes.

I shake my head and roll my neck, trying to get the stiffness setting in to release.

I can’t deny that the millisecond when my lips were pressed against Shawn’s wasn’t the best time of my life because it was.

During that brief time, something awakened deep inside me.

The same something that had thirteen-year-old me walking multiple aisles of department stores looking for the same smell that I had the pleasure of enjoying that one time I was close enough to Shawn.

The exact same thing that had me riding my bike to the other side of town, past his house, in the hope that I would catch a glimpse of him.

Just one glimpse is all I needed. And now I’m right back there.

Breaking that asshole’s wrist? I won’t even sit here and allow myself to question why I did that.

The pain and fear I heard in Shawn’s voice is something that I never want to hear again.

I might not have a leg to stand on when it comes to him.

I mean, hell, it’s been fucking twelve years since I’ve seen him, and I don’t know him.

But no one, and I mean no one, should ever have those sounds in their voice when speaking to or about someone they love.

Did Shawn love him? I don’t know, but if he was in a relationship with Steven, Steven should have treated him with all the respect, kindness, and love Shawn deserved.

So, fuck that sick bastard. I’m not going to lie; I’m sure a grin that looks just as evil to anyone who might see as it feels on my face spreads as I watch Steven stumble through the hospital door.

I’m not worried that he will be able to give anybody enough information about who attacked him.

But to be safe, I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up my message thread with Demon.

Me

I need a huge favor. How quickly can you hack into Cape Hospital’s cameras?

Demon

What did you do?

Me

Might have broken both wrists of some asshole that decided to put his hands on someone he shouldn’t.

I’m not worried about him being able to identify me.

But I’m not sure about the cameras in the southeast emergency hallway or in the patient parking lot.

They might have recorded something that might help him if he is stupid enough to open his mouth.

Demon

Everything will be gone within the hour.

Me

What do I owe you?

Demon

I’ll let you know.

Grinning like a fool, I slide my phone back into my pocket and settle against the tree.