Escape to Love

Escape to Love by Kimberly Hunter

For the tenth time, Rory looked at the clock at the back of the bar. Coot was almost two hours late. Not unusual in bad weather, but Mother Nature had deemed to bless them with clear and sunny skies for the last several days, melting a good chunk of snow and making the few roads in the area more than passable. And even if the flights were behind, Coot could make up for it with his chopper. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time. But no, this was different. Rory’s gut was telling him that something was wrong.

“Cooter still not back yet?”

The question made him blink with confusion for a moment, the deep and gravely voice of Pete St. John bringing him out of his musings. He quickly regained his composure, wiping down the bar then getting a beer for Pete.

“Not yet.” He handed the beer over. “The guy’s flight must have been delayed. And it doesn’t help that Lillian, as well as Aunt Rhea, has called several times.”

Pete nodded in understanding, taking a healthy swallow of his beer then carefully wiping the foam from his handlebar mustache. “The weather could have changed out that way. We’re due for another big one before spring.”

“Yeah.” Still, that didn’t dispel the feeling of unease Rory had.

Before either of them could comment further, there was a screeching of tires and a slamming door. Coot then burst through the pub’s door, his white hair wind blown, blue eyes bright with panic. His expression was one of sheer terror.

Rory didn’t hesitate. He just jumped over the bar and rushed to Coot’s side. “What happened?”

“Your new boarder, he’s in a bad way, Rory. Real bad.” Coot then turned and went back out, Rory fast on his heels, Pete following as well.

Getting to the back passenger door of Coot’s Land Rover, Coot opened it, revealing a small man laid out on his stomach. His pale and lightly sweat-sheened face was partially covered by long, red-blond hair. His breathing was shallow, and he was shivering despite the thick coat and warm clothing he was wearing. His full lips were compressed in a grimace, eyes closed. He was out cold.

“Christ, Coot, what the hell happened?” Rory carefully pushed the long hair away from the man’s face to reveal fine features. His skin, on closer inspection, was not only pale, but sheet white. He let out a low moan, clearly in pain. Rory thought he was the most arrestingly beautiful man he had ever seen regardless of his current condition.

“Damned if I know.” Coot huffed out a breath. “He looked like shit when I picked him up at the airport, but he didn’t say a word, so I thought maybe the flight must have been rough. Then half way here, the guy starts breathing heavy and sweating like a whore in church. Next thing I know, he passes out on me. Had to get George to help me get him into the Rover. But every time we touched his back, he would scream. God, Rory, I don’t want to hear anything like that again, man, ever. That’s way we laid him on his stomach.”

Rory touched the man’s brow, noting that he didn’t have a fever despite the sweating, his skin clammy and chilled. “Its fine, Coot. You did good, my friend. We’ll take care of him.”

“Thanks, Rory.” Coot let out a gusty breath, clearly relieved.

“Alright, guys. Pete, go get Doc Greywolf. Tell him what’s happened.” Rory glanced at Pete, getting a nod, then the man was off. “Coot, we’ll need to take him up to my place for now. The rental is too far considering the condition this guy’s in. And since you said it was his back, we’re going to have to carry him face down.”

Easier said than done. The poor guy had cried out in pain several times and even lost what was left of his lunch before Rory and Coot finally got him to Rory’s bed. The man was covered in sweat and shivering even more, moaning softly as they started to remove his clothes. They were about to get his shirt and pants off when Doc Greywolf finally came in.

Jason Greywolf was full Cherokee. A transplant from North Carolina, he’d opened his medical practice to help those in need of good medical care who didn’t have a lot of money. None took advantage though. At well over six-four and close to two hundred twenty pounds, not many would even try. Of course, the town’s citizens liked and respected Doc too much anyhow.

“What have we got here, boys?” His deep baritone filled the room as he laid his black bag down. He then came to Rory’s side and helped finish undressing the young man.

Under the clothes, they found his entire back, butt, and upper thighs covered in thick bandages. Some of the ones on his shoulders had large spots of blood on them. Even his wrists and ankles showed a slight chafing.

Doc looked everything over with a critical eye then went back to his bag to retrieve a pair of purple latex gloves. After putting them on with a snap, he began to carefully peel the bandages away to show what should have been a gorgeous expanse of smooth pale skin. Instead, what they saw was a horrific maze of healing welts, stitched cuts, and dark colorful bruises.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Rory’s soft voice held all the dismay that the others in the room were no doubt feeling. Of course, Coot running from the room and the sounds of retching was proof of that.

“From the width of these welts, I’d say a belt was used,” Doc surmised as he looked over the man’s wounds.

“And the buckle,” came a scratchy, pain-filled voice.

Rory quickly pulled over a footstool and sat. Then he fell into the most beautiful emerald green eyes he had ever beheld.

“Hey,” he said softly, helping the young man brush the long strands of his strawberry blond hair away from his pale face.

“Hey.” The voice was a little hoarse, but the small smile went straight to Rory’s heart. And other parts of his anatomy. “Could I have some water please?”

“Of course.” Rory looked over at Pete, but Doc stopped him before he could hurry out.

“While you’re at it, prepare some of Mother Owl’s tea too. Our guest here is going to need it.”

“Sure thing, Doc. I’ll check on Coot as well.”

He wasn’t gone long before he was back with a cup of water, handing it off to Doc, then gone again. Doc brought it over, he and Rory helping the young man to sip it slowly. His face paled even further, sweat beading on his upper lip when he finally got his fill.

“Can I ask who did this to you?” Doc crouched down, a strong hand lifting the young man’s wrist to take his pulse.

“I…well…” The green eyes were full of agony and shame, but then he took a deep breath and let it out, looking directly at Rory. “My ex-lover.”

Rory gave him a reassuring smile. “No need to be afraid of who or what you are here, little one. I think you’ll find the people in this town more understanding than you realize.”

Those luminous orbs widened, and Rory couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching over to gently touch the young man’s cheek, the feel of stubble making his fingers tingle.

“From the looks of the wounds, I’d say they aren’t even a couple weeks old.” Rising to his full height, Doc’s experienced gaze looked over the area of the man’s injuries.

That assessment caused the young man to give Doc a questioning look.

“Sorry, I’m Doctor Jason Greywolf.” He smiled, giving the man’s hand a light pat.

“Oh, Sebastian Kynser.” Bright eyes then turned to Rory.

“Rory Blevins. I own the pub downstairs and the cabin Lillian rented for you. Her partner, Rhea Blevins, is my aunt.”

Sebastian closed his eyes with a groan. “Christ, I’m so sorry, Mr. Blevins. I—” They opened when Rory interrupted him.

“Hey, none of that now.” He took Sebastian’s hand, the need to touch this beautiful man strong. “It’s Rory; my father is Mr. Blevins.” He grinned.

“Alright…Rory.” The smile was tentative but genuine.

“You can call me Doc,” Doc told him as he continued to look intently over Sebastian’s injuries. “Now that we’re all friends here, I need to ask you some medical questions.”

“Okay.”

“First is what you’ve been taking for pain and when was the last time you took it.”

“Oh, uh, the ER doctor prescribed Percocet. I took one after I got on the plane then a half one after I got to Seattle.” He huffed out a short breath at that. “Now I’m thinking I should have taken a whole one, but I was afraid it would make me too loopy.”

“Mmm hmm, and some of the thicker pads probably had an anesthetic on them?”

“Yeah, Novocain.” Sebastian huffed out another breath, his small frame starting to shiver.

“Cold, little one?” Rory asked.

Sebastian grinned, though it came out more of a grimace. “Yeah.”

“We’ll pile the covers around you, and Rory can stoke the woodstove. I want to take a closer look at some of the deeper cuts. The stitches have come loose, and even out of a few of them, so I want to ascertain if they need to be re-stitched. Also, did the ER doctor prescribe any antibiotics?”

Rory got up and did what Doc wanted, making sure the covers were piled close enough to Sebastian’s body without hindering Doc’s exam. Then he went to the room’s woodstove and added more wood to it. He would need to get more in the morning. It could be a while until Sebastian would be able to have any kind of heavy covering on his back or even clothes. Keeping the room warm would be a must so he didn’t catch a chill and get sick.

“Yeah, but only for a week. He said they were strong and would do any job needed.”

“Idiot.” Doc snorted. “Some of the worst cuts look a little infected. You allergic to anything?”

“No.”

After Rory made sure the woodstove was putting out enough heat, he reclaimed his seat, again taking Sebastian’s hand. He didn’t seem to mind if his shy smile was any indication. Lord, but Rory could fall for a smile like that.

“You know what antibiotic the ER doctor prescribed?”

“Not really. I wasn’t exactly up for paying much attention at the time. Sorry.” His expression was sheepish.

“That’s fine. Just give me the name of the hospital and I’ll find out.”

“No!” Sebastian made to rise but collapsed back to the bed with a shout that turned to a whimper.

“Easy, little one, easy.” Rory felt Sebastian squeeze his hand, those gorgeous eyes closed tight as he panted for breath, Rory petting his head.

When those emerald orbs finally opened, they were a little glazed with pain. “You…you can’t call or tell anyone I’m here. Lillian and Rhea are the only ones who know.”

“Because of your ex?” Rory asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why Lillian and Aunt Rhea didn’t tell me your name.” Rory sighed, a tad annoyed that he hadn’t been more informed.

“I’m sorry. But after he…Jackson h-hurt me, he was arrested. When he got out not long after, he found me in the hospital. He…” Sebastian choked on a sob, his slight frame trembling.

“Easy, baby.” Rory wrapped an arm around Sebastian’s neck, pulling him close but being careful of his injuries.

“He said he’d use h-his riding crop on me th-the next time.” Tears were falling from those beautiful eyes. “Th-then he put a scalpel in my f-f-face, laughing at me. I was s-so scared, I couldn’t do anything. Even after he c-cut my shoulder with the scalpel, all I-I was able to do was scream.”

Rory and Doc looked at the place on Sebastian’s shoulder that was different from the other marks. It was also longer and deeper, several places oozing a bit of blood where the stitches had come out, the surrounding skin an angry red.