Violated (20 page)

R
USS
HAD
had a long ride back from Rabbit Hollow Farm. He’d gotten stuck in a line of traffic when two cars collided on a narrow bridge at the Vermont border. Some jackass had taken it upon himself to direct cars to move out of the way of the ambulance and made a mess of it, so Russ had climbed out of his car, presented his badge, and taken over. It took almost two hours to get traffic moving again. In the meantime he’d gotten drenched in the downpour. Then it took another hour and a half to make it home. He just wanted to get inside and relax. Maybe take a shower. Certainly build a fire. It was a nasty, cold day. Stretching out in front of a fire with a cup of coffee sounded heavenly.

But the moment he pulled into the parking lot, he knew that wasn’t bound to happen right away. Derek was there, standing outside his car in the pouring rain, digging through what looked like a pile of garbage. Although for some reason, he was piling it into his open trunk.

He glanced up when Russ pulled in and parked, and the expression on his face looked murderous. “Where the hell have you been?” he practically yelled as Russ got out of the car.

Russ let Max out of the backseat, then closed the car door before replying, “Vacation. I’d tell you about it, but this doesn’t seem like a great place to chat, at the moment.”

“No,” Derek agreed, tossing a soaking wet business suit into his trunk. “Tim dumped all my shit here. I’m trying to get it out of the rain—not that it really fucking matters. It’s all ruined!”

“Why aren’t you taking it inside?”

Derek looked a mess, his clothes drenched and his hands and feet covered in mud, and he was acting a little disoriented. His entire body was shivering. He waved his arms helplessly at the pile of debris. “I don’t know. It just… seemed like it would take too many trips.”

“It’s not gonna dry in your trunk,” Russ told him. As if that wasn’t obvious. “Why don’t I help you carry it in? It’s not that much.” He still had no fucking clue what all this was about. Was it the result of some kind of lover’s spat? There seemed to be all kinds of stuff mixed in with the clothing, including some electronic devices that might already be destroyed and a bunch of books.

Jesus! What kind of an asshole does this to someone?
He reminded himself he hadn’t heard the details yet, but it was hard to imagine a good reason for trashing a guy’s belongings like this.

He scooped up an iPad and a bunch of CDs and tried to tuck the iPad under his armpit to protect it. Mud ran down his T-shirt and spattered the front of his jeans, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Derek stared at him dully for a moment, then imitated him. He followed Russ down the path to Derek’s cabin, and a thoroughly soaked Max trotted happily alongside them.

The door was unlocked, so Russ led the way inside. Max ran past him to shake himself and spray water all over the place before greeting Gracie.

There wasn’t really a good place to set things down, but the bathroom had a full-sized tub, so that was where they put the clothes for now. Anything electronic they set on the bathroom floor rather than leave it wrapped in wet material. It was tile, so hopefully water leaking out onto it wouldn’t hurt anything.

They left both dogs in the cabin while they went back to the car. It took several trips, and it was a miserable ordeal—cold and wet and filthy—but eventually they got it all out of the rain. It was a mess, spread out all over the place. Books ended up on the bar, along with stacks of CDs and Blu-Ray disks, and water covered the marble top. It was beginning to drip onto the floor, so Derek fetched a couple of clean towels to mop it up.

“Do you have any rice?” Russ asked.

Derek looked at him, his expression puzzled but too weary to really care. “Maybe. Why?”

“I’ve heard you can dry out some things like cell phones in rice. It might work on your iPad.”

“Oh yeah.” Derek opened a cupboard door.

“While you do that, I could start a fire.” Russ desperately wanted a fire. He was freezing cold. If he was alone in his cabin, he’d strip out of his wet clothes, but he wasn’t sure how Derek would feel about that. Maybe they could strip to their underwear. But first things first. “Is your fireplace working?”

Derek squinted at him as if he was trying to sort out what Russ had said. “What do you mean ‘working’? It’s a fireplace. A big brick box with a chimney. How could it
not
be working?”

“I mean, did you have it inspected when you bought the place? Is it in good condition? I don’t wanna burn your house down.”

That got the first hint of a smile he’d seen on Derek’s face since they started this hellish undertaking. “Sorry. Yes, it was inspected. It’s fine.”

“Good.”

Russ found some dry paper and cardboard in a recycle bin and used that as tinder. There was some wood stacked in a metal rack off to one side. It had probably been there since before Derek bought the place, which meant it was perfect. It would be thoroughly dry. Russ stacked some small pieces on top of the cardboard and lit it with the long fireplace matches on the mantel. In a couple of minutes, he had a good, small fire burning. He placed some larger pieces of wood on top of it and stood.

He was surprised to find Derek just a couple of feet away. He’d taken off his wet clothing and put on a pair of sweatpants, though he was shirtless and barefoot. It also looked as if he’d toweled off his blond hair—it was too short to get tangled, but it was now sticking up in all directions. He held out another pair of sweatpants. “These are clean, if you want to get out of those,” he said, nodding at Russ’s chest, though he clearly meant the whole soggy mess of Russ’s outfit.

Russ thought about it for a second. Derek was pretty much set now, except for sorting out all the crap in his bathroom and on his counters. Russ could just head home. There he could strip, build his own fire, and chill without having to make conversation. But after having failed to really connect with anyone at the B and B—something he realized he’d built his hopes up too much over—it might be nice to hang with someone he
did
connect with. And maybe he could find out what the fuck happened between Derek and Tim.

He took the offered sweatpants. “Thanks.”

“The bathroom’s obviously a disaster area,” Derek said, “but you can change here. I won’t watch.”

Russ laughed as he draped the sweatpants over a chair and pulled his soggy T-shirt off. “Dude! We’re full-grown men. I don’t care if you see my dick.”

Derek laughed too, but he still turned away when Russ unbuttoned his jeans.
Fuck me
, Russ thought.
He doesn’t
want
to look
. Clearly Derek just wasn’t interested in him.

“Would you like some coffee?” Derek asked over his shoulder as he moved into the kitchenette.

“That would be awesome!”

Russ changed quickly and then laid his clothes out on the floor near the fire while Derek set up the coffeemaker. It would have been better to drape them over the chairs, but he didn’t want to get the cushions soaked.

“Wait a minute,” Derek said after he’d started the coffee brewing. “Tim picked up a drying rack for things, since we don’t have a washer and dryer out here.”

He went into the bedroom and came out a moment later, carrying a wooden contraption made of dowels inserted into an X-shaped frame. He unfolded it near the fire, and Russ was able to drape his clothes over it.

A few minutes later, they were curled up on the couch together, hot coffee mugs warming their hands and the dogs curled up near the fireplace hearth. Outside, the sky was growing darker, and the wind whipped the rain against the windowpanes, but inside Russ was finally warm and cozy.

“You know, one of us really needs to buy a hot tub,” Derek mused.

Russ laughed. “Go for it!”

“I was actually thinking you.”

Russ grinned and shook his head. “When a guy I worked with bought one last year, it cost him about five thousand dollars. Not gonna happen on
my
salary.”

“Not mine, either. I got fired last week.”

Russ’s eyebrows must have looked like they were trying to crawl up to his hairline. “Dude. What happened?”

“It’s… complicated.”

Fine. That was Derek’s business. But Russ still wanted to know why he’d gotten drenched, even if, admittedly, Derek hadn’t asked for his help. “Is that why Tim dumped all your stuff in the mud?”

Derek groaned. “Yeah.”

“That’s pretty harsh.”

“To be fair, he didn’t do it because I was unemployed. It was… well, he thought I’d cheated on him.”

“Okay…. Did you?” As soon as he’d asked the question, Russ wished he hadn’t. First, it wasn’t any of his business. Second, he liked Derek, and he wasn’t overly fond of guys who cheated on their boyfriends. He’d seen too much of that bullshit on the job, not to mention his little adventure with Ian. If Derek had been sleeping around on his fiancé, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about it.

W
HY
DID
I tell him that?
Derek wondered. He hadn’t planned to tell Russ anything about the whole mess. Apart from breaking up with Tim, anyway. But Russ had been a sympathetic ear on more than one occasion, and Derek realized he needed to tell someone—someone who would fucking
believe
him. He didn’t have anyone else. No family—his mother didn’t count. They’d barely spoken since he came out. And he didn’t have any friends.

He doesn’t want to hear this shit. This is too much to dump on someone you barely know
.

Russ was looking at him expectantly, still waiting for an answer to his question. It was a personal question, but Derek had provoked it, so he couldn’t blame Russ for asking. He could just say no, of course. That was the truth. “I… I went on a business trip three months ago….”

And suddenly it was all spilling out, as if he’d knocked over a bottle of beer and all the beer and foam was erupting out in a flood across the floor with no way to stop it. He had no right to unload all this on Russ, and the timing was awful. Russ had asked what he thought was a simple yes or no question. He hadn’t asked to be Derek’s goddamn therapist. But it didn’t matter. Once the words started pouring out of him, Derek couldn’t shut up. It all came out.

Russ didn’t interrupt. He did look a bit horrified as the tale unwound, but he didn’t say a word. He quietly sipped his coffee and waited.

When Derek got to the end of the story, skipping through all the weeks of sleepless nights and being afraid of his own shadow to Victor reporting him to HR, he finally wound down. He wasn’t crying or angry or much of anything, really. He just felt drained. He found himself staring into his cold coffee, unwilling to look up and see the disgust he was sure he’d find on Russ’s face. Russ might not think there was any shame in getting fucked up the ass, but he was a cop. There was no way he’d ever let some guy hold him down and force him. And he wouldn’t be quaking like a coward whenever he saw the guy in the restroom or had to talk to him.

It was a moment before Derek realized Russ was speaking. “Derek…. Derek! Look at me.” Reluctantly, Derek lifted his eyes. Russ didn’t look disgusted. He looked grim, his mouth set in a hard line. But his soft blue eyes regarded Derek with tenderness. “I don’t know how you managed to hold all that in for so long.”

“I know I should have reported it right away—”

“Oh, fuck that!” Russ spat out. Derek flinched, expecting Russ to ream him out. He was a cop. He knew what proper procedure was, and it was obvious Derek had made his situation worse by being so cowardly. But instead Russ said, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Derek. Fuck that HR…
woman
. Fuck Tim. They behaved like miserable shits. And Victor is a fucking monster. You haven’t done anything wrong—not a
goddamn thing
!
They
have!”

Derek appreciated what he was saying, but Russ’s temper was clearly rising, and that was making him uncomfortable. He took a sip of his coffee, even though it had grown tepid and disgusting.

Russ seemed to realize flipping out wasn’t doing anybody any good, because he dropped his volume. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be yelling.”

“It’s okay.”

Russ still looked pissed off. He seemed to be watching Derek closely, though Derek had no idea why. Derek glanced away to look into the fire. It was more comfortable than meeting Russ’s gaze.

“How are you feeling?” Russ asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

“I’m fine.”

“I want you to know… I believe everything you told me. All of it. I think you handled it as well as any man could.”

Then, without warning, the tears came. Derek wasn’t even aware of them at first—not until his voice broke. “I should have fought him off. A man doesn’t just lie there and let someone….” Then he couldn’t speak anymore as the tears flooded his eyes and overflowed down his cheeks.
God, not now! Not in front of him!

R
USS
WAS
raging inside, barely keeping the explosion in check. He couldn’t recall ever being so angry. It was worse than when Shannon had told him about Marty. Marty was dead now, and the rape had happened over a decade ago. But this! Derek had been “fucked”
—
it hadn’t escaped Russ’s notice that he’d avoided using the word “raped”
—
just three
months
ago, and the bastard who did it still had his job and was walking around the streets without a goddamn care in the world. In the meantime Derek had lost everything. He was barely holding it together, and he blamed
himself
for it.

When Derek started crying, it took all Russ’s strength not to pull him into his arms. But the training he’d had told him that wouldn’t be a good idea. At least, not unless Derek wanted it. The last thing a rape victim needed was for some oaf to grab him and pull him into a bear hug while trying to deal with the aftermath of sexual assault. He knew Derek already felt he had no control over his own body.