Not What it Seems by Nicky James

Eight

Cyrus

The sharp ringing of the bedside phone woke me as effectively as a bucket of cold water over the head. I shot out of bed, heart pumping and nerves alight before I processed the sound for what it was.

I’d fallen asleep on edge with swirling thoughts of what I’d done battering my brain. All night I’d been dreaming of my career going up in flames. Of course, with the usual incongruent nature of dreams, I somehow ended up in a supermax prison, sitting in an interrogation room while they tortured me for information about River. The phone had saved me from a second round of waterboarding, not that I had any clue what that was like.

In a cold sweat and with trembling fingers, I answered, my voice raw and croaking. “Hello?”

“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Irvine. Your boyfriend just wanted me to inform you he was on his way up. He didn’t want to startle you, sir.”

“My—” The first person that came to mind was Grant. He was here? How did he know where I was? Why? And we weren’t—

A hard rap sounded at my door. I snapped my head up as I uttered something close to thanks to the hotel receptionist and hung up.

Grant wouldn’t be here. Things had ended poorly between us ages ago. Grant was in London. Grant was history.

Then who the hell was…

My spine stiffened. “Nooo. No, no, no, no.”

I launched from the bed and flung the door open, coming face to face with River. This was worse than all the dreams of losing my job combined. Worse than enduring another round of dream-warped waterboarding. Worse than if it had been Grant. This was a nightmare. A waking nightmare. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t.

“No!” My voice didn’t sound at all like my own. It was laced with terror. “Absolutely not. You’re not coming in here.”

I tried to slam the door in River’s face, but he was faster and jammed his foot in the way, grimacing at the force I used to try to stop him.

His gaze swept up and down my bare chest, lingering lower—reminding me I was in nothing but underwear—before climbing back up again.

The bastard smiled. “Hey, sexy. How’s my partner in crime?”

Panic surged in my core. “You can’t be here. You have to leave. Now.”

“I can’t do that. I have nowhere to go and no one to help me except you.”

“No. No way. I’ve already done enough.” I tore fingers through my hair, tugging my curls. “I’ve done too much. If they figure me out, I’m ruined. God, I’m such an idiot.” I was going to be sick all. Nausea stirred and gurgled in my stomach.

With shocking strength, River put his weight against the door and slipped into the room, closing it behind him.

I fumbled back a few steps, aghast. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here. You can’t—”

“Do you want to have this conversation in the hallway where everything echoes and anyone can poke their head out of their room and watch? In fact, do you want every person staying in this hotel to hear what we have to say? If so, keep yelling, but I’m a fugitive now, remember? A wanted criminal. A murderer.”

I blanched. I’d spend several nights listening to my neighbors come and go, voices bleeding through the walls like they were nothing more than paper.

A fugitive. A criminal. A murderer.

“What have I done?”

I was an accessory. Oh god.

My knees threatened to buckle, and I grabbed the wall for support before I collapsed.

“That’s right. Now you get it. Take a breath, Doc.”

“You can’t be here.” My voice trembled. “You can’t. I helped, but I don’t want any part of this.”

The weight of my actions crashed into me like a tidal wave, and I bent at the waist, stomach clenching. Now that I’d committed a crime of my own, regret was a real thing, and it was crippling.

“What have I done? Oh god. What have I done?” I went down on my knees, burying my face in my hands, muttering, “Insanity is a real thing. I’ve cracked. I’ve been pushed over the edge. A psychological need to please people. That’s what I have. Born from a combination of recriminations from someone I deeply loved and the building desire to break free from preconceived notions. At what cost? An overactive pituitary gland? That might be it. A direct dumping of endorphins which guided my hand toward—”

“Doc, I need you to curb the psychobabble and focus.”

I blinked at River. The room shrank. Warmed. The walls pressed in from all sides.

River was dressed in scrubs and wearing a ball cap. His hair poked out the back and sides, framing his face. His jaw was rough with the beginning of a beard, flecks of auburn catching the light. The key card I’d stolen—stolen—hung around his neck. On his feet were those red Nike flip-flops.

I stared at his feet, and a hysterical laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. Flip-flops. “You wore flip-flops.” There was nothing particularly funny about it, but I couldn’t stop laughing. This was it. The moment my brain officially broke. “I can see your toes because you wore flip-flops.”

Kneeling on the ground, feverishly out of control, I laughed and couldn’t stop. Tears formed and rolled down my cheeks, and I had to brace a hand on the floor so I wouldn’t topple sideways. Delirious with the sheer impossibility of what I’d done and the sudden appearance of the man in front of me—wearing flip-flops—I howled.

“Oh, fuck me. This is great. My accomplice—the doctor—is a raving fucking lunatic.” River kicked his flip-flops into the corner, snagged my arm, and heaved me off the ground. “Stop looking at my feet, ya weirdo. Yes, I escaped in flip-flops. No, it wasn’t ideal, and it could have blown my cover if anyone was paying attention, but it didn’t. They were all I had. Now get up and pull yourself together.”

He shoved me onto the bed where I sat, the humor fading. It took another moment of sniffling and wiping my eyes before I sobered.

“Are you done losing your mind?” River stared down at me, incredulity all over his face. “For such a professional guy, you’re a little off-balance, you know that?”

“You have no idea.” I shook my head, disbelief making the whole situation feel like a dream. God, maybe it was a dream. Maybe I’d wake up and none of it would be real. That would be perfect. I would like that. I closed my eyes and wished River gone.

“Oh no, none of that.” River snapped his fingers in front of my face until I peeled my eyelids open again. “Are you listening?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a squeak.

“I think we should talk. But first, for my sanity, you need to find some clothes. Otherwise, no offense, but I won’t be able to concentrate.”

I blinked at River. “What do you mean?”

“Jesus. Did you take a blow to the head tonight? How are you this oblivious? Look at yourself.” He waved a hand at my nearly naked body. “I haven’t gotten laid in over five weeks, and you’re sitting there in underwear looking hot as shit. I hope I look half as good when I’m fifty.”

“I’m forty-five, thank you very much.”

“I think you’re missing the point. Maybe this will help. You either get dressed so I don’t have to stare at that insane bulge in the front of your underwear, or I’m getting naked, and we’re going to have a redo of that weekend back in May. Don’t think I forgot about those noises you made while I was drilling you into the mattress.” River’s grin was facetious, and he waggled his eyebrows. “But… Maybe you wouldn’t mind a little trip down memory lane. Are you horny, Doc?” River grabbed himself and squeezed. “Not gonna lie, I could go for a round if you’re up for it.”

My skin heated. A flush raced up my chest and settled in my cheeks. I couldn’t keep up with the maelstrom of events from the last twenty-four hours.

Lurching off the bed, I found a pair of jeans in my suitcase and scrambled to get them on. “I think you had your chance. And fuck you for not texting me back and then thinking I’d cave to you now. I may be a lonely, desperate man, but I have morals. Or rather, I did. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“So, you wanna fuck?”

“No!”

“Relax. I’m just double-checking.”

River sighed when I turned my back on him, tugging the jeans up my legs and hiking them over my ass. “That’s disappointing. I’m young and virile, and I know you enjoyed yourself before. It shouldn’t surprise me. I pegged you for a prude back in May.”

“I’m not a prude,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He cupped his ear like an asshole.

“Nothing.” I faced River, no less anxious over the whole situation, but the shock had settled somewhat. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve gone out on a limb for you already. I could get my ass fired if anyone finds out what I did.”

“No one’s going to find out. You dropped the key card where no one could see. I could have snagged it anywhere. I absolve you of any guilt.”

“Nice try. I know what I’ve done. It’s going to eat at me for the rest of my life. Forever, do you hear me? If you stay here, if I help you more…” I shook my head, pacing. “I’ve done my part. I listened. I believed you weren’t guilty. I helped. Now I’m done. I don’t want to be involved.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re already involved, Doc. Might as well go big or go home.”

“Yes. Exactly. I’m going home. Home, home, home. In the morning. I’m handing in my report, and I’m leaving. What you do from here is your business. You told me you wanted to clear your name and find the real killer.” I waved a hand at the door. “So go do that, but leave me out of it. I wish you all the success in the world.”

“I can’t do this alone.” River perched his hands on his hips. “The minute they find me gone from the hospital, they will tear this town apart looking for me. I have to get back to London somehow, but I won’t be safe there either. If I’m going to clear my name, I need your help.”

“That wasn’t the deal!”

River chuckled. “There wasn’t a deal. We didn’t negotiate terms. I told you what happened. You took it upon yourself to look into it, and what did you find? Proof I was right.”

“Not proof.” I was yelling again. I thought of the man with the bladder problem in the room beside me. The woman and her dog above. I leveled my voice. “I found suspicious circumstances that could be related.”

“It’s proof, Doc. Admit it. And it was enough proof you knew in your heart you couldn’t walk away.”

I groaned, pinching my eyes closed. The endless internal debate still wasn’t over. If I’d made a report and left, River would have rotted in a prison cell, and more people would have died. Why was this my life?

“What did you think would happen when you gave me the means to escape? We’ve joined forces. You’re part of this now. Part of me.”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I could still go. They can’t implicate me.”

But River could.

I snapped my eyes open, horror flooding my veins.

River must have read my inner thoughts before I could voice them. “You think that little of me? I wouldn’t do that to you. Not after you listened and helped.”

River paced to the window and looked out from behind the blinds. “If you have to go, then fine. I’ll figure it out on my own, but…” River turned back, pinning me with a hot gaze that somehow invaded the innermost private parts of me. “I could really use someone on my side. Someone smart like you. Someone who values justice. Someone who—”

“I’d be jeopardizing my job. That’s not fair. You can’t ask me something like that. I’ve worked my whole life to get where I am. I’m a good person. I can’t do this. I can’t. My job is all I have. It’s everything.”

River’s chin dropped, resigned. He removed the ball cap and tossed it beside me on the bed, pushing his hair off his face as he stared at the ground. “Fine. I get it. One favor. Please?” He lifted his gaze, imploring.

Like I didn’t have enough guilt after the first favor, but something in River’s eyes made me surrender. “What?”

“Can you get me to London?”

I considered all angles of his request, analyzing the dangers. “Where would I take you? Where are you going?”

River’s attention shifted inward as he thought. “I have no money. My wallet, phone, and everything else was either confiscated by the police or is at my apartment.”

“You know I can’t bring you there. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not sure I have a choice. I’m broke. I have cash at the apartment. Not a lot, but it would be something. You can drop me off in a quiet neighborhood a few blocks away. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“And how are you going to clear your name?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to look into stuff. If those two women you saw at the morgue are related to this, then my first step will probably be to go talk to a few prostitutes in the area, see if they know who those girls were and if they remember them going with someone. It’s going to be hard on my own. Especially when I’m going to be a wanted man come dawn, and my face will be plastered all over the news.” River shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I’m nothing if not adaptable and resourceful.”

My insides knotted, and I regretted the question the minute it passed through my lips. “How would my help change anything?”

River’s smile was strained. “No one’s looking for you, Doc. You saw the girls in the morgue. You’ve seen the police report.”

“Some of it.”

“You know more than me. Were there pictures?”

“Of the women from the hotel? No. Not crime scene ones. But they’ve printed their photographs in the local paper. I saw them online too.”

River held his hands up in a you see gesture. “At this point, I don’t even have access to the internet. You were able to sweet-talk your way into the morgue. I couldn’t have done that. You could probably get information at the hotel too, whereas I can’t.”

He was right. I had connections, albeit poor ones. Grant’s father was part owner of the Destination Hotel chain. So, yeah, I could probably weasel my way into some information if necessary, but it was the last thing I wanted to do.

What was I thinking?

“No. No, I won’t implicate myself further. I can’t.”

River didn’t speak. His gaze implored me. Our eyes clashed, and it was like the room itself held its breath, waiting for me. And damn him because he knew I was second-guessing myself.

“I’ll take you to London. Tomorrow. After I hand in my report to the director at New Horizon. I… I can’t promise more than that. I need to think.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

My stomach gave an involuntary flutter, and I huffed a nervous laugh. “Don’t you think we have enough problems without making things more complicated?”

River chuckled and wet his lips. “That wasn’t a no.”

I gulped and dashed my gaze everywhere but at River’s cocky smile. “It wasn’t a yes. We’ve been there done that. You chose to be a dick and not text me back. You don’t get to change your mind now. I have some standards.”

“Fine. Let’s both stay sexually frustrated and get some sleep then, shall we? Do you think you can share that king-sized bed, or are you too much of a prude for that as well?”

Horrified, I snapped my attention to River, who was stripping out of the scrubs he’d found. “You can’t stay here with—”

“Where do you want me to go?”

My mouth hung open, and I did all I could not to stare at River’s bare chest and the sharp definition of muscles that had been hidden underneath his shirt. I concentrated on his unshaven, square jaw and whiskey-colored eyes instead as memories of the past poured in and tortured me.

This wilder side of River, the one not constrained to a mental hospital and a fake diagnosis, was something to behold. I’d forgotten how cocky and self-assured he was. He was confident and forward. Two things I wasn’t. Two things I’d liked about him.

“Your mouth’s hanging open, Doc.”

I clamped it shut and tried to look away. Tried so hard. All arguments died in my throat when River shed his pants and kicked them aside. He wore skin-tight red briefs that hid nothing. Images of his well-endowed cock sprang to mind. His thickness, his length. Me on my knees, River plowing into my mouth until he groaned and came down my throat.

The asshole did a slow spin, giving me an extended view of his ass—the one I’d been unable to stop staring at since Monday. The one I’d seen naked only two months ago.

And god, it was perfect.

River chuckled as he faced forward again. “Now you know how I felt when you answered the door in your underwear. You’re a cock tease. You can change your mind any time you’d like. I’m always up for a good fuck.”

I couldn’t speak.

River posed with his hands on his hips, his self-confidence oozing off him in waves. But why wouldn’t it? He was young and gorgeous, and he knew it. He also knew I was on the cusp of caving. The bastard.

“We can’t share a bed,” I croaked, standing so we were on even ground, backing away from the location in question like it was a no-access zone.

“Aw, why not?”

“I… You know why.”

River found that amusing. His laugh made his shoulders bounce. “Oh, Doc. You’re too cute.”

“I just don’t like the hookup thing, okay. I’m too old for that shit. I thought… before… Never mind. I was wrong, and it was stupid.”

River chuckled. “You thought I wanted to date you? We met in a bar.”

My face heated. “You spent a whole weekend with me.”

“Yeah, so? It was good sex. Why not? I’m not really one for commitment.”

“Well, maybe I am.”

“Are you really that big a prude that you can’t accept a one-night stand for what it is?”

“I’m not a prude. And it was three nights. I’m just… saying…” I sighed. “Never mind.” Explaining my hurt feelings and that it had taken me a month to move past our little engagement would only make things worse.

I couldn’t fight the urge to wrap my arms around my middle and cover myself, all too aware of my bare chest and its lack of definition compared to River’s. I wasn’t half as attractive or young as this man. My body had become a victim of middle age. The longer I stood around with no shirt on while he flaunted his statuesque physique, the more self-conscious I became. Alcohol had helped the first time around. I’d been flattered when River had approached me in the bar. What transpired after had the quality of a dream.

Everything was more raw and real in the hotel room, and I felt every one of my forty-five years.

“Look, as much as it pains me, I promise I won’t make a move. I’ll stay as far away from you as the bed allows. If I don’t crash for a couple of hours, I’ll be useless tomorrow, and I can’t afford to be useless.”

River slinked around me without a second thought and crawled into the already unmade bed. He stole the pillow I’d been hugging—a habit I’d developed after leaving Grant—and sighed, closing his eyes like he wasn’t invading the space of a practical stranger.

Not a stranger. His psychiatrist. I was his doctor.

Fuck me. That made things even worse.

My life was over. If this ever got out, I would be ruined. Where had I gone wrong? At what point had this whole thing fallen apart?

“Doc? You can’t stand there and stare at me all night. It’s creepy. Turn your smart brain off and get into bed for fuck’s sake. Sleep.”

It took another ten minutes to find the courage to cross the room to the opposite side of the bed and five more to convince myself to get in. I hung so close to the edge I almost lost my balance a few times and tumbled out. River didn’t miss it. He stayed curled up, facing away from me, but he chuckled. “Jesus Christ. You’re something else. We’ve fucked. I’ve been buried in your ass, so stop making this weird.”

“Shut up. Leave me alone. You’re ruining my life. I wish I’d never met you. Do you have any idea how many psychological problems I already deal with? Let me tell you because, for a doctor, it’s astronomical.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the dark a few minutes later. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate the risks you’ve taken to help me. I know what you did was hard for you. So, thank you.”

More silence.

Neither of us was asleep. The tension in the room mounted with each passing minute. I could count River’s even breaths, smell the sweat and essence of his skin. It was too much. My dick was hard, and my blood was hot, and I really just wanted to roll over and tell him that yes, I could do with a good hard fucking.

I stayed silent.

“Can I ask you something, Doc?”

“Only if you call me Cyrus. It’s bad enough that I helped break you out of a secure hospital, but emphasizing my title and reminding me you’re my patient is making me feel sick to my stomach, especially when we’re sharing a bed.”

“Fair enough. Cyrus.” River rolled over, facing me in the dark but keeping as much distance between us as the bed allowed. “Can I ask you something?”

I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but they glimmered in the faint moonlight that leaked in from around the curtains. His whole focus was on me. It was unnerving and sent an unwelcome lick of warmth through my belly. “I guess. Might as well.”

“Why’d you do it? I’ll be honest. I didn’t expect you to help, and you seem pretty torn up about it. So why did you bother?”

I could have said I didn’t know, but I’d spent a whole night weighing my options. As much as my decision tied a noose around my neck, I wasn’t sure I would choose differently if given a second chance. Part of it had to do with proving I wasn’t a coward, but most of it had to do with justice and doing the right thing.

“Someone is killing innocent people. The police have stopped looking because they’re convinced it was you. I know they’re wrong, but they wouldn’t listen. Inaction meant turning my back on a killer. Inaction meant more people would die.”

“But action risked your career.”

My mouth was dry and sticky. I wasn’t sure River could see my trepidation in the dark. “True. Someone once told me that sometimes we have to take risks. We can’t always be bound by rules. That’s life, I guess. Can’t always be a coward.”

“That doesn’t sound like your motto.”

“It’s not, and I’m pretty sure I hate it. I’m also pretty sure I’m the biggest coward of all. But…” My skin felt too tight. “When has confining myself to a rigid set of rules ever gotten me anything but mocked? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a well-respected psychiatrist. Or I was before today. I won’t be if they discover what I did. But… being a chickenshit hasn’t always worked out for me either.”

“Who the hell called you a chickenshit or a coward?”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Never mind. It’s personal. I have baggage, okay. Let’s just say no one’s perfect. Least of all me.”

I rolled over and faced away from River, balancing at the edge of the bed. I hadn’t removed my jeans, and they were uncomfortable, but there were only so many lines I could cross in one day. I didn’t have the power of mind for one more. If I removed them, I knew what would happen.

Despite the turmoil making my head spin, I fell asleep faster than I expected. Complex dreams of court trials, a revoked license, and the severing of professional contracts wreaked havoc on me all night. There was no more waterboarding, but in every dream, River was there.

I tossed and turned, knowing on a subconscious level I couldn’t cross the centerline of the bed. My dreams, however, shifted and danced on that line more than once. It was dangerous, yet I couldn’t fight the pull.

When I woke, I sensed it was still early. I also sensed eyes on me, burning a path over my face. Predawn light made a ghostly haze around the curtain, illuminating the soft edges of River’s body. He was staring at me, his focused attention full of unvoiced questions.

“Are you watching me sleep?” My voice was rough. “It’s unnerving.”

“You’re restless.”

“I’ve done a very bad thing, and I can’t reconcile it with who I am or how I move forward from here. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

“You didn’t. I get the feeling you don’t think too highly of yourself.”

“Not right now, I don’t.” I paused, assessing that statement. “Not ever, actually. Long story. Not important.”

“Who was he?”

I frowned. “What? Who?”

“Stab in the dark. Who did this to you? Who fucked with your self-worth? Who made you worry about every last thing you say and do?”

I stared at River a long time before ducking my head. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Is he still in the picture?”

“God no. What do you take me for?”

“Just checking.”

“I’m not a cheater. He was long gone before I made that trip to the bar.”

River kept staring. The heat of his attention made me want to squirm.

“I get the feeling you’re going to drop me off in London and I’m never going to see you again.”

I’d considered helping, but he was right. Getting him the key card and offering him a ride was the extent of my generosity. “It’s for the best. I’ll be serving my penance for the rest of my life.”

“Are you a religious man?”

“Not particularly. Why?”

“Are you out?”

I frowned. “What business is it of yours?”

“It’s not. It’s a question.”

“Yes, I’m out, but I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

River nodded as though coming to a decision. “You’re not a man who usually takes risks. That’s pretty clear. I bet I’m the first and only guy you’ve ever picked up in a bar. You have a nagging, self-incriminating voice inside your head that eats you alive every second of every day. I think you’re a worrier by nature. A people pleaser. You’ll take me to London and spend the rest of your life asking yourself if you did the right thing. We’re very different. I do take risks, and I don’t know what my future holds, but I have no intention of spending the rest of it living with regret.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

River’s hand snaked up and wrapped around my nape, his fingers weaving into the curls at the back of my head, holding on with a sure grip. Before I could process what was happening, he scooted closer and joined our mouths.

One second we were side by side, talking. The next, I was engulfed in everything River. His lips. His tongue. His scent. It was everything I remembered.

I was a man torn in two. One half of me was desperately clinging to the moral high ground, wanting to do what was right; the other half was tumbling into a treacherous abyss I knew would end in cataclysmic disaster.

I was losing grip on that cliff’s edge inside my mind. My strength waned. Every moment that passed, I slipped further, my fingers losing purchase until I was hanging by a thread. What did it say about me that I yearned for the fall? That I savored the hot press of River’s body against mine. I craved the feel of his hard cock filling me yet again.

The vast loneliness that lived in my core was overwhelming most days. This connection, this attention, I yearned for it. Craved it. Wanted it.

But it wasn’t real.

His tongue glanced against mine, and I groaned, delving deeper, inching closer until our bodies were pressed together.

His kiss was euphoric. It was something I’d dreamed about for weeks after our few nights together. He was both gentle and demanding. Rough and considerate.

It was unfair to compare them, but River was a complete contradiction to the man I’d once loved. Sadly, Grant’s abuse had become the framework against which I judged all men.

He’d broken me so deeply I wasn’t sure I would ever heal. Because of Grant, I struggled with self-worth and had a hard time getting back into the dating scene.

River’s teeth caught my lower lip, and he hiked his hips forward, dragging his erection against my thigh.

The sweet taste of River’s mouth sang through my body. He nipped my lip again and hitched his hips. There was a question, a request in the action. I thrust against him. Our tongues glanced together, then tangoed with more assuredness. The scratch of his unshaven face bit deliciously into my skin as he angled his head to take the kiss deeper.

I was floating, soaring.

It took a solid minute or two for my conscience to catch up, for the fantasy bubble to pop. Then I was crashing back to earth with a sickening realization.

Everything I’d done the previous day rushed at me with the velocity of a tidal wave.

I broke from River’s mouth on a gasp, placing a hand on his bare chest, doing all I could to ignore the furnace of his inner heat against my palm and the way our engorged lower halves were pressed together. In that same instant, River rolled us until he was on top and I was underneath, his weight crushing me to the bed, his erection solid against my thigh. Then he kissed me again before the protest had time to climb my throat. It was brutal and raw.

It was dangerously good.