Page 32 of Survivor
Chapter Twenty-Four
Frank
Karaoke at Woody’s was an entirely different experience with Taylor, probably because he actually got up on stage and sang. The song he chose, “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain, for some reason was hysterically funny to Caleb. The big man reminded Frank of a fucking toddler, laughing so hard his face was beet red and he couldn’t catch his breath. Frank couldn’t be bothered to care, not when his sexy man was wiggling his hips and simulating a brazen sexual act with the microphone stand.
When the song ended, Taylor got a standing ovation as the bar erupted into thunderous applause. More than one guy tried to stop Taylor when he climbed off the stage, but he just shook them all off as politely as possible, making a beeline for Frank. He didn’t know if he would ever get tired of the way Taylor stalked him like a mountain lion ready to devour his prey. Two months into their relationship, they were still in the honeymoon phase: every touch tantalizing, every kiss electric, every day a gift. Perhaps it was the fact that he and Taylor both knew the reality of loss, of not having just one more day with the person you loved.
A fresh beer appeared on the table in front of him, his empty bottle lifted, and Frank looked up into the astonished eyes of their server. “Mmmm. Mmmm! That man is lookin’ at you like he’s starvin’ and you’s the last supper.”
Before Frank could respond Taylor was there, straddling his legs, sitting in Frank’s lap and bending to kiss him. It was just a quick peck and Frank wanted more, but they were in public. “I thought I was going to have to draw my gun for a minute there,” Frank said as soon as Taylor leaned back, referring to the dozen or so guys that had attempted to sway his man, to no avail.
“Whatever, you know better.” Taylor stood and settled into the empty chair, grabbing Frank’s chair by the seat, dragging it close to his own.
“Blech.” Caleb scrunched up his face. “You two are giving me a cavity—enough already.”
Caleb screeched like a girl when Justine pinched his arm. “Ow! What the fuck, woman?”
“Play nice or you’re grounded, Knight.” She threatened, trying very hard not to smile from what Frank could see.
He jerked his legs back, Caleb’s foot grazing his shin. “Gotta be faster than that, partner.”
Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” blared through the speakers and they all turned to watch the next person on the mic. Taylor’s arm rested over the back of his chair, his fingers gently massaging Frank’s neck. Thank fuck the music was loud, so no one heard the contented moan Frank was unable to contain. He would never get tired of this, of Taylor’s hands on him, comforting and grounding him.
His lover was possessive in an odd sort of way that was cute and endearing. He didn’t want to control Frank, his life, or his every move. Unless they were in bed, of course, and then Frank happily handed over every ounce of control. Taylor seemed to have a bone-deep need to put his hands on Frank if they were in the same room. Whether it was holding hands, Taylor’s arm wrapped around his waist, draped over his shoulders, or his hand in Frank’s hair massaging his scalp. Frank could walk into the apartment after a shift and see Taylor across the room in the kitchen, his eyes almost frantic. The moment he had Frank in his arms or if Frank simply crossed the room and leaned over the bar and they clasped hands briefly, the panic ebbed from Taylor’s eyes.
Frank knew it all stemmed from his parents’ murder. To have the two most important people in his life yanked away without so much as a good-bye had left a scar on Taylor’s psyche that quite possibly would never completely heal. It was at the exact same moment, when the very fabric of Taylor’s life was torn open, that his and Frank’s lives had crossed paths and they were irrevocably tied together. And in all honesty, he considered Taylor’s brand of obsession endearing. He loved that his partner had his own set of rules, expectations, and definitions of this little thing called life.
“I’m gonna grab another round,” Frank shouted over Alice Cooper trying to disguise himself as Madonna. He had just made it back to their table and passed along beers and shots when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling the cell from his pocket, he held up one finger to Taylor, pointing to his phone and stepping out onto the patio where it was much quieter before answering. “This is Frank.”
“Officer Moore, this is Sergeant Davis. Would it be possible for you and Taylor Langford to meet me at headquarters tomorrow morning at nine?” There was something off about Rand Davis’s voice. Frank couldn’t put his finger on it, and he hadn’t spent a lot of time with the man to know him well enough to read. But even a stranger would have heard the underlying tone of concern.
“Yeah, of course…” Frank could see Taylor looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “…what do you need to talk to both of us about?”
Davis waited so long to answer him that Frank thought the call had dropped. “I can’t talk about it over the phone, but I promise you, I’ll tell you everything I can tomorrow.”
Almost as soon as he disconnected the call, Caleb’s phone rang. They were in between singers at the moment, so Caleb immediately answered the call. “Yo.” Frank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah—okay, see you then.”
Caleb stuffed his cell back into his pocket and picked up his beer, eyes darting around the table. Frank wanted to throttle him. “Well?” He, Taylor, and Justine, all three speaking at the same time sounded more like shouting.
“Apparently, I’ve been called to the principal’s office along with you two numbskulls tomorrow morning.” Caleb shrugged, coming out swinging when Justine and Frank both smacked him in the back of the head. “Would you two stop touching me already?”
“Dumbass, what’d Davis say?” Frank growled at his partner.
“Nothing really, asked if I could be at headquarters tomorrow at nine to meet with him and the two of you about the Langford case.” Caleb rubbed the back of his head, scowling at Frank.
Taylor leaned into him, their shoulders bumping. “Did he divulge anything more to you, Frank?”
He shook his head, staring at the empty bottle in his hands. “Nope.” The mood went to shit after that, so they called it a night.
It was the first time in a long time that Frank rode home in the back seat of an Uber sober. The drive also brought back the memory of the last time he’d used the service.…Trevor. He wondered briefly if he should tell Taylor about his part-time lover. He and Trevor hadn’t communicated by phone, email, or text since their last rendezvous and had never been serious. Once they learned what Davis had discovered and had a little more time to settle into their relationship, he’d tell Taylor about the man. For now, all he could do was concentrate on Taylor, though his thoughts were consumed with why Davis wanted to see them. What was so important that he couldn’t talk about it over the phone?
