Guarding His Melody Page 3

  When he was little and had been sick for any reason, he had cried for his dad, but now he understood his dad didn’t deal with his sickness—any sickness—very well. Which was fine, he supposed. If he ever wanted anything, his dad would get it for him. Not that Seb asked, but if he didn’t want to, he would never have to leave his house again. It was a sobering thought that some days he was tempted to do just that.

  His head throbbed alarmingly, and Seb weighed the effort of getting up and walking into his bedroom for his pills against simply staying here and hoping it would settle on its own.

  The light above his door flashed, saving Seb from making that particular decision. It was a crude alarm, and there were a ton of other ways he could have found to let him know when someone came to his door, but he’d never been bored enough to do anything about it. Seb got up carefully. It would either be Andrew or Joseph with a request from his father to come and talk to the new old guy. His lips twisted in some approximation of a wry smile. It had seemed a good idea at the time to get someone other than Andrew—who he really couldn’t stand—but one look at the powerhouse that he’d nearly run into had made him question it.

  Seb rose gingerly and unlocked and opened the door, secure in the knowledge that none of the staff would dare go against his wishes to take so much as a step inside his room. He even cleaned it himself.

  “Gray Darling.”

  Seb blinked stupidly at the man holding out his hand. The confused look on his face wasn’t fake this time—as it had been for the cops—and he glanced behind the man into the hall, wondering how on earth he had been allowed upstairs on his own. There must be some mistake.

  The man took another step forward and kept his hand held out. He didn’t repeat what he had said, no doubt assuming by Seb’s silence Seb hadn’t understood what was being said to him; he just waited for Seb to acknowledge him. Seb gazed at him. He’d been wrong was his first thought. The guy wasn’t old old. Older than Seb, yes, but the man—Gray—wore maturity like good clothes. It fit well. Seb blinked again. Heterochromia, his brain told him—one dark brown pupil, the other green and hazel. If he wasn’t mistaken, there were also small flecks of amber radiating from the iris. Gray didn’t look like he had shaved that day, although he seemed dressed with care, so maybe he was one of those guys who needed to shave twice. And he was big. Not huge, because they were roughly the same height, but he was solid. Not the sort of guy Seb would want to meet in a dark alley, but he guessed for a bodyguard that was the whole point.

  Gray still stood with his hand extended, and Seb tried to shake it by merely glancing Gray’s fingers with his own in a light, fleeting movement. Enough to satisfy the manners he had been brought up with, but the minimal contact would keep his panic at bay.

  It didn’t work. Gray’s hand completely covered his, but Gray released before he even had a chance to register the touch, the warmth. For a second it had been like touching a space heater. Before Seb could say anything, Gray took a step forward, and Seb one automatic step backward. Then Gray was inside his room. Seb doubted even his father had been in here for months. Arron had been the last.

  “You can’t come in,” Seb blurted out before he remembered he wasn’t going to speak.

  Gray took a deep breath and tilted his head to the side as if considering what Seb had said. Heat flushed through him as he realized Gray probably hadn’t understood anything he’d said. When Seb spoke quickly, he knew it was probably a garbled mess from the blank looks he sometimes got. He took a breath, ready to repeat it.

  “I can’t protect you out there,” Gray answered, showing he had understood. Then he turned his head and took another step, his eyes quickly scanning the room. “Where’s your bed?” Gray looked at him before he spoke, and Seb had a second to appreciate the man wasn’t speaking slowly or exaggerating every letter like some people did, which annoyed the ever-living fuck out of him. Gray had also waited to say anything until he knew Seb was looking at him, which got him a grudging point.

  Then Seb processed the question. “What do you mean?”

  But Gray was already heading toward the door at the other end of the room. He opened it and peered in, then disappeared for a few seconds. Seb seemed rooted to the floor, trying to decide if he felt violated or not. This was his space, his private space, and some stranger was parading around like he owned it. Gray reappeared, and his eyes locked on Seb’s.

  “I saw the bathroom. You have two windows in here. Do you know if they are ordinary glass?”

  Seb’s jaw dropped again. Ordinary glass? What, as opposed to bulletproof? His legs suddenly felt very shaky, and the world seemed to slip and tilt. Before he knew what was happening, the same warm hand from a minute ago was steadying him and guiding him to the couch. He groaned from embarrassment and misery and let his head drop. He would have to get his tablets soon, because once he started throwing up, it would be too late. Gray kept hold of his arm as they both sat.

  “I get vertigo,” he offered as an explanation and felt Gray’s hand tighten, which seemed to calm him strangely. Seb couldn’t usually cope with strangers touching him. To be honest he wasn’t very good with even his father touching him, and the thought that some guy he had known all of five minutes was in his space and holding his arm was enough to start another round of dizzy-inducing panic. He looked up, squinting, trying to battle the flush of heat he could feel crawling up his neck, and he felt Gray take a deep breath beside him.

  Gray took another exaggerated deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then released it. Before he had completed another, Seb was mimicking him. The room stopped swaying slightly. “Better?” Gray asked and let go of his arm.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, still acutely aware they sat close and still embarrassed.

  “No worries,” Gray replied. “I know ear problems can be hell on your balance.” Seb dropped his gaze. How? How did Gray know that? Was it in the information he had read, or had Seb’s dad told him? Seb felt a squeeze on his arm and looked up, knowing it had been to get his attention.

  “You’ll forget I’m here eventually.” Had he missed another sentence? What did Gray mean? Gray nodded as if he was agreeing with something and patted the couch a little. “It’s a perfect setup actually. You will be completely secure in there”—Gray pointed to his bedroom—“and no one can get to you without getting past me. And that’s never going to happen,” he added.

  Seb stared at his bedroom door and then back to the couch in confusion. “What?” he asked, and then he understood. For a split second, relief rushed through him at the certainty he would be safe, followed by anger that someone had ruined his sense of safety in the first place, that he needed it reaffirmed from someone else. “No.” He stood up abruptly, ignoring the sickening lurch of his stomach, putting distance between him and the stranger who insisted he was something Seb hadn’t needed in a long time. He didn’t need a safety net.

  Seb felt Gray’s strong fingers circling his wrist, and he yanked his arm away. “I don’t like being touched.”

  Gray stood and wrapped his fingers around Seb’s bicep. Short of a tugging match, Seb had no choice but to turn and look at him.

  “I refuse to carry on a one-way conversation that affects your safety. If there is another method by which I can get your attention, please let me know.” He stood with one eyebrow raised, waiting for Seb to answer. Seb huffed, which Gray obviously took to be some sort of answer, because his hand fell, and he carried on.

  “My presence in here is nonnegotiable, I’m afraid, but hopefully the cops will work out what is going on soon, and then I will be gone.”

  Good, Seb thought in annoyance.

  “Can you tell me who the man was downstairs with your father?”

  “Joseph—”

  “No, the other man. Around six three, goatee beard, a hundred and eighty pounds, blue eyes, slightly balding—”

  “Dr. McKay,” Seb answered, reeling a little from such an accurate description.

  “And h
e is?” Gray pressed.

  Seb hesitated. He really didn’t want to talk about this now.

  “Your hearing specialist?”

  Seb nodded and Gray seemed satisfied.

  “Can you run through your typical day for me?”

  Seb blinked in shock. He hadn’t expected that question. Although, now he thought about it, he should have guessed Gray would need to know. He’d just expected Gray to…. Seb frowned; he didn’t know what he expected, really. The whole week had thrown him off-balance since he heard about Arron. He opened his mouth to answer just as his stomach roiled, and he jerked away and bolted for the bathroom.

  He made it to the toilet before he vomited what little he had eaten. He tried to spit ineffectually and jumped a little as he felt something cold touch his arm. It was the glass of water from next to his bed, and he knew the fingers holding it steady belonged to Gray.

  Seb reached out a shaky hand for it, but Gray didn’t let the glass go, just crouched down and held it steady for him to sip from. He took a couple of sips, rinsed his mouth, and then spat it out and flushed the toilet. He shuffled back until he touched the wall, then let his head fall back and his eyes close.

  He felt the next light touch of fingers to his arm and opened his eyes again.

  “Do you feel well enough to get up?”

  Seb considered his body, running through an almost automatic checklist. His head throbbed, but he didn’t think he would be sick again. “Yes.”

  Gray held him firmly and helped him to stand, not letting go. Seb took a step away toward the sink, reaching for his toothbrush, and Gray followed him. He brushed his teeth and swilled out his mouth, feeling better, then straightened. He was surprised Gray was still there, to be honest. The one time he had gotten sick in front of Andrew, Seb had thought Andrew was going to hurl as well.

  “I work. Sometimes music, sometimes on the computer.”

  Gray frowned, and then his expression cleared as he caught on that Seb was answering the question from a few minutes ago. “What else?”

  Seb shrugged. “Piano lessons.”

  There was a pause while Gray obviously waited for him to elaborate, but Seb didn’t say anything else.

  Gray squinted at him. “Friends? What do you do for fun?”

  Nothing. But Seb didn’t articulate it, knowing his silence was answer enough. His friends were random people he met online.

  “Do you want to get into bed?”

  Seb shook his head. He wasn’t tired. “No, couch, but I can manage.”

  Gray acquiesced and took a step away from him. Seb was trying to act normal, but ughh—the guy had just seen him throw up.

  Gray followed him back into the other room and waited until Seb sat before he looked at his watch. “I have a meeting with Andrew and the others.”

  “It’s fine.” Seb waved his hand to the door. “Seriously, I’m okay.”

  Gray didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

  Seb nodded and let his head fall back and his eyes close. The same light touch to his arm had them opening again. Gray waited until Seb was looking at him and then reached into the bag he had brought and pulled out a small phone and a charger. He glanced at Seb. “Mine is preprogrammed number one. Just press it anytime we are apart in the house, and I will be straight back. You don’t need to text a reason, just the number. It’s our way of sending an SOS. Likewise, if you ever get the same from me, you lock this door and don’t open it to anyone except me and you get a text to confirm that I’m here.”

  Seb stared in astonishment, but he took the phone and examined it curiously. It looked like a regular phone.

  “I’d be happier if you let us move all your contacts onto this and just use it as your main phone. If it’s activated, the number also sends me your location. In bad situations, it means I can get to you quickly.”

  It was a tracker? Seb stared mutely at Gray. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but seeing as he never really went anywhere, he had nothing to hide. Well, not about where he went, anyway. “So if I get a signal, I lock myself in?”

  Gray followed Seb’s glance to the single lock on the door. “We will have someone from my team come and reinforce the door and change the glass first thing tomorrow. If you don’t want to be in your room, you can be downstairs or even go in mine for a while, but the man who will be coming is called Danny. He’s a friend and completely trustworthy, and I will be here the whole time.”

  Seb opened his mouth to ask a question and ended up biting his lip instead.

  Gray tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

  Seb worried his lip some more, convinced the answer would be no. “I want to go to Arron’s funeral,” he rushed out. He saw Gray processing the words he’d probably mangled, and just before he was about to say it again slower, Gray replied.

  “That can be arranged. Just you or will your father be going?”

  Seb was so relieved at the answer, the smile creased his lips before he had a chance to stop it. “I can go?” Then he realized he shouldn’t be putting it as a question and give Gray a chance to change his mind.

  Gray glanced at his watch. “I’m going to put my spare clothes in the room they gave me and go meet the rest of the security team.”

  Seb was too stunned to do anything but nod his agreement. Gray had said he could go to Arron’s funeral. The least he could do was to allow Gray in to help keep him safe.

  Gray turned to the door, and before Seb realized what he was going to do, his fingers curled around Gray’s bicep. Gray stopped immediately and turned to face him. They stared at each other for a whole heartbeat. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Four

  GRAY LOCATED the room he was supposed to use and quickly put his spare clothes away in the chest of drawers. He stowed his Ruger in his pocket because there was nowhere to secure it, and dropped his bag and dopp kit on the table next to the bed. There was a small bathroom, and he immediately went to relieve his bladder. He took a dispassionate glance in the mirror above the sink at the makings of a beard on his face and decided to ignore it. He only ever shaved twice if his job required it, and it didn’t look like it would be necessary tonight.

  Needing a lot more information than he had, he thought of heading back downstairs to find Derwent. At the last second, he pulled out his phone and sent a detailed text to Rawlings stating the house needed securing and requesting that happen first thing in the morning. He wished he were surprised no one seemed to think security was a concern at the house, but common sense was a rare commodity these days.

  Gray also wanted to research Seb’s condition more fully. They had the basic health info. It detailed the lingering effects of the meningitis Seb had been left with, but to see the vertigo hit him that hard and that sudden was a bit of a shock. What Gray had seen upstairs reminded him of a panic attack.

  Yeah, and you know all about them, huh?

  At least he knew how to cope with them, or he wouldn’t be able to do his job. The doctors had all said PTSD, and his own exercise routine had helped with that. He stilled as a sudden thought occurred to him. Computers and his piano. That was all Seb did all day? Not exactly a healthy routine. Taking one last look at his ugly mug for some unknown reason, he left his room. Keswick stood at the bottom of the stairs, which was good. Gray didn’t especially want to have to open doors to find people.

  Keswick smiled and held out a diagram of the house. “And I noted the alarm codes.” It obviously had been quickly drawn.

  “Thank you,” Gray said immediately and took it, glancing at the door leading to the kitchen to orient himself. He would go walkabout later, but not before Seb’s bedroom was secure. He didn’t even like leaving him for this, and he intended the meeting to be short.

  “If you will follow me,” Keswick said and turned toward the kitchen door. Just before they got to the kitchen, he stopped and opened a door to a smaller room on his left. Gray took in the contents and the three people looking at him suspici
ously.

  Derwent barely glanced at him and made no attempt to stand up from where he sat behind the desk, so Gray ignored him and put out his hand to the younger man—Scott Innes—who stood leaning against the filing cabinet. “Innes,” Gray acknowledged, and Scott’s eyes widened in surprise as he extended his hand, obviously not expecting Gray to know who he was.

  Gray then looked at the woman, who was regarding him with barely concealed hostility, and repeated the gesture. Paula Fielding—military brat like himself—two tours in Afghanistan and finally signed on for private security. His hand stayed extended for a fraction too long after his definite “Fielding,” before she reluctantly grasped it firmly. On paper she was more solidly qualified than either Innes, who seemed employed for no other reason than his father was a golf buddy of Armitage, or Derwent, who had been a cop for five years.

  Derwent was forty-three, no startling career highs, and had quit the police force nearly fifteen years ago when his father died and left him the money to start Sharp Edge Security. They had limped along doing basic retail security for seven years until, for some reason, Armitage employed him to guard his house. Neither of Derwent’s two employees were original. In fact, he had had a steady stream of almost transient people working for him. Arron had stayed the longest, and Innes only started a month ago with no experience or suitable qualifications. But then the pay was probably crap.

  “So, what can I do for you, Darling?” Derwent drawled the words with special emphasis on his last name. He had obviously recovered from being shown up in front of Armitage and was out for his pound of flesh in retaliation. Gray wasn’t interested in a pissing contest. All he wanted was Derwent to do his job when and in the exact manner he required it.

  Gray leaned back against the wall and gazed at Derwent until he saw with satisfaction the man glance away. He shot an encompassing look at the other two and took a breath. “My people will be here at eight to replace the glass, door bolts, and install video surveillance. Who is on duty tonight?”