Destiny Calls Samantha Wayland (the first e reader .txt) 📖

to the next. He"d just begun to climb the stairs when Brandon called out to him.

“Patrick, it"s all clear! We"re upstairs!”

Relief almost took him to his knees, but he grabbed the banister and hauled ass.

Barreling through the door to his room, hardly noting the scene before him, he dropped to the floor to wrap his arms around Destiny and Brandon.

He held on for dear life while staring at the man bleeding on his floor. He was a complete stranger. What the fuck was he doing in Patrick"s house? And why was he bleeding?

The acrid scent of gunpowder hung in the air, so he could guess on the bleeding thing. He"d find out the rest soon enough. Right now he just wanted to hold on to Brandon and Destiny. He pressed his face to Brandon"s hair and drew a deep breath, capturing the combined scents of his lovers in his head, grateful beyond words that they were safe and unharmed.

Brandon"s hand pushed him back, but he held on tighter. Finally, a particularly hard shove forced him to let go.

“Patrick!” Brandon growled, heaving him away.

Only then did he register the footsteps in the hall.

Holy shit. What was he thinking? Brandon"s stare told him he was wondering the same thing. But still, he didn"t want to let go. Forcing himself to move away, he had barely regained his feet, Brandon pushing, Destiny clinging, when half the fucking department stormed through his bedroom door.

The chaos of police business quickly set in.

While Bobby Wilkinson, as his driver"s license identified him, was loaded up and carted away in an ambulance, Brandon pulled on some clothes and spoke with Detectives Carter and McGuire. Patrick couldn"t resist drilling holes in Carter"s head 106

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with his stare. When McGuire caught his eye for the third time, lifting one eyebrow in a silent plea to back off, he sighed. Walking out into the cool night air, he let Farley out of Destiny"s car and tried to clear his head. It wasn"t easy.

Eventually, it was time to make official statements and he followed the cruisers carrying Destiny and Brandon back to the precinct, leaving behind a swarm of lab guys and Carter, who McGuire insisted should stay at the scene while McGuire went in to handle the paperwork.

Patrick didn"t like leaving that asshole in charge at his house, but he was just as glad not to have him along.

As soon as they walked through the doors of the station, Sully came to greet them, offering to stash Farley in his office and taking Destiny to wait with him while Brandon gave his statement. It drove Patrick bat-shit crazy that the three of them were separated, that he couldn"t keep an eye on both of them, but Destiny and Brandon had to tell their stories without being allowed to collude.

He knew he should sit with Destiny until it was her turn, but he was desperate to hear Brandon"s statement. He opened his mouth to offer to stay but she shook her head.

“Go,” she whispered firmly.

He sent her a grateful look and ran to the observation room.

It was a battle to sit still and keep his shit together as Brandon recounted being awoken by a man dragging him out of bed. His painkiller-dulled mind hadn"t been able to respond quickly enough, allowing the asshole to get a jump on him. He"d landed hard on the floor, the pain in his bruised ribs and wrenched shoulder pushing his mind almost to the point of unconsciousness before he was able to get his head screwed on straight and fight back.

Patrick mentally kicked himself every which way. He knew perfectly fucking well that Brandon had taken those damn meds because he"d overdone it the night before during their gymnastic lovemaking. Brandon should have told them he"d been hurting.

Patrick was livid with himself for not having seen it and for leaving Brandon home alone all day.

It was a damn good thing Brandon"s story was riveting, holding everyone"s undivided attention, because Patrick didn"t think he was doing a good job of masking his growing rage. Not that he had to—everyone appeared furious as they listened to what had been done to one of their own—but god knew what might show on his face if he lost control. He could see Brandon was shaken, though he doubted anyone else understood how badly. He was also obviously, to Patrick at least, in pain. New bruises were beginning to surface along Brandon"s neck and right cheek, but he held himself rigid, never once reaching up to touch what had to hurt like hell. Patrick kicked himself again for not thinking to grab Brandon"s meds before leaving the house.

Then again, it wasn"t like he could trot in there and pamper Brandon, for Christ"s sake. Wouldn"t that set all the tongues to wagging? No, instead he had to stand back and act like Brandon was just his old buddy when what he really wanted to do was 107

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reach out and offer him comfort, offer him something more than a weak smile and the expected three-foot personal-space zone.

He wanted to hold him.

By the time Brandon joined them in the observation room to watch Destiny give her statement, Patrick couldn"t even look at his best friend, too afraid of what the others in the room would see on his face. He felt like his shoulders were locked up around his ears, he was so freaking wound up.

If Brandon"s story has been riveting, Destiny"s left them all agape. He listened with awe as she recounted her foolhardy and courageous charge into the house and how she"d guessed his gun safe combination after four tries.

Everyone in the room turned to look at him with silent admonition in their eyes.

“What? It wasn"t that easy to figure out. She got lucky, thank god, and I"ll change it.” The last part was a lie. It would always remain Brandon"s birthday, goddamn it. The only two people on earth who knew that were the same two people he