Chapter 5:
Detective Thornton rushed up the stairs, knocking an office boy off balance. "Sorry." He mumbled, not meaning the word he had uttered. Why should he? The boy was in his way.
His steel grey eyes scanned the HQ. Violent husbands, homicidal schoolboy, drunkards and the usual lot. Your usual garden terrorism. Nothing spectacular. His eyes noted a smartly dressed figures in the lobby, probably some ass' lawyer or the DA.
"You're late!" the nearly bald man wheezed.
"Like I give a fuck."
Thornton's eyes narrowed as he registered the presence of a man in tailored suit in the room. The gears in his head began to rotate while he listed the possibilities. He took the seat next to the gentleman, not acknowledging his presence in the room.
"Thornton, lately I heard some pretty unsavoury things about you."
Oh blackmail. How exciting. Thornton mused. "Proceed."
He ignored the old man's threats as he pulled out his final cig before he crushed the box. Thornton slipped his hand into his pocket but the man next to him whipped out his slick metal lighter, lighting the dangling cigarette from his mouth.
The man smiled, gazing steadily into Thornton's weary eyes. Thornton returned the lavender gaze coldly.
The man was good looking, sexy he admitted but he did not swing that way.
"You hear me Thornton?!" the old man snapped as he pulled his suspenders.
"Is that all? I was expecting…more." Thornton voiced his disappointment. "Ask your men to work harder if they want to dig some serious shit against me. You basically have nothing against me."
"Really?" the stranger spoke, his husky voice caused the hair on Thornton's neck to stand.
"Pardon my insolence Machiavelli, have you been stalking me?" Thornton queried the man.
The man smirked, "Mr Harlan, can you please leave the room? I would like a private conversation with Mr Thornton."
"What?! He's – "
"Please leave the room, Mr Harlan." The man repeated.
Seeing the anger flaring in the man's eyes, Mr Harlan left the room. Thornton raised his brows, some of his questions answered. A vague hypothesis formed in his head.
"I heard about your good relationship with the young Mr Evans."
"What does it got to do with you?"
"A lot." The man chuckled as he stood up, towering Thornton. Placing both his hands on the armrest of Thornton's chair, he leaned down, closing the distance between them as his lavender eyes searched the emotionless grey eyes.
"I am also informed about your recent meeting with him. If I am not wrong, it was concerning the plane crash…"
Thornton glared at the man. "Fuck off."
"Let's cooperate, detective. I just want some information like Mr Evans. Nothing more."
"For all I know you might be the man behind the crash." Thornton spat, anger swelling inside him.
"I don't operate that way." The gentleman smirked, leaning closer till the gap between them was only a centimeter.
"Then is this how you operate?"
"No. I don't go this low. I can give you anything you want." The man pressed his lips roughly on Thornton, prying open those lips with his tongue.
Shocked and horrified, Thornton tried to push the man off. His action was futile. The man was far stronger than what Thornton had expected.
Thornton was disgusted. He was mostly disgusted by his sudden lust for the stranger's mouth and body. He loved the sweet taste of wine and vanilla. He could devour those delicious lips wholly but his consciousness forbade him.
He bit those lips, till he could taste the sweet sickly taste of blood trickling down his mouth.
Pulling their lips apart, the man scowled. "That's not very nice. But I'll keep it for memory sake." The gentleman said, fingering his lower lip.
Pushing the man away, Thornton stood up and took a few steps back, putting some distance between them, panting hard.
"I see you enjoy it."
"Fuck you."
"Next time. Well, consider my offer. Anything you want." The man chuckled softly, fixing his tie while he walked to the door. "It could save your brother's life."
Thornton kept quiet, confusion and anger clouding his eyes. He averted his gaze from those alluring eyes.
"Do you need my name card?"
"No. I know exactly who you are, Mr Devereux. CEO of Markov Company."
Troy Bolton was laughing merrily with his good mates. The day was beautiful. He adjusted his visor.
"I seriously don't get them!" Chad complained, removing his rubber gloves.
"Women. They get complicated and uglier with every passing second." Jason commented.
"No." Zeke disagreed. "Sharpay isn't ugly."
"This isn't about your wife." Chad replied, shaking his head while Jason and Troy roared with laughter.
"You should try taking her out more often." Troy suggested.
"Then she thinks I am up to something." Chad said. "She thinks I'm seeing some cheap tart."
"Are you?" Jason asked.
"See this?" Chad waved the golf ball before Jason's eyes. "I'll shove this down your throat if you are going to spout anymore bullshit."
"Let's change topic." Zeke suggested.
"Fine with me." Troy said while Jason nodded his head vigorously in agreement.
Chad simply shrugged. "I'm cool with it."
"So how are your preparations coming?" Zeke questioned. "Sharpay is pretty excited about this coming Sunday."
"I can't find my sock puppets." Jason replied.
"Good." Chad answered.
"Why?" Jason asked with raised brows.
"At least you won't stink up the place."
Troy laughed. "Literally or figuratively?"
"Both."
"I'm hurt."
"Wonderful!"
Zeke shook his head, removing his shades. "Troy, how is yours coming? Must be hard to sing without Gabriella."
"I'm still searching for a suitable song." Troy answered.
"Ah!" Chad exclaimed. "In other words, you have prepared nothing."
"Oh like you did?" Troy said.
"Sure. I'm singing with Taylor."
"Hate to say this, but aren't the two of you fighting?" Jason asked.
Chad glared at Jason. "You got a deathwish?"
"Enough. Troy is that your phone?" Zeke remarked.
Hearing the soft beeps coming from the front of his golf bag, he unzipped the pocket and took out his cell.
"Gabriella?"
"No. It's Ryan."
Author: I better update this. Laugh weakly. Sorry for the wait. Tell me what you think of Thornton.