"Brian! Where are you going?" Carl nodded toward their vehicle waiting.
"Where do you think? I'm going down THERE!" Brian started to sprint down toward the marina.
"What are you DOING? " Carl shouted. "We need to call the Lancaster PD and get them out there on the water to look for Prescott's yacht!" He flipped open his phone to call 911.
"No fucking time, Carl!" Brian yelled back. "We've got to find Justin NOW!" Carl shook his head as he began to run after Brian, listening at the same time for the emergency operator to answer. "What are you DOING?" the older man repeated, frowning.
Spotting a sleek-looking Baja speedboat nearby, Brian ran up to the owner onboard, a middle-aged, slightly balding, dark-haired man wearing a cashmere sweater and a cream-colored pair of linen pants. "Hey! Did you see a maroon and white yacht leave here in the last hour? Name on it is The Blond Angel," he advised the man, almost choking in disgust at the name Prescott had rechristened his yacht. Seeing the stranger's look of distrust at being practically accosted without so much as an excuse me, Brian added, more softly this time, "Please – it's important."
The man relented at the brunet's apparent look of desperation appearing on his face. "Yeah, actually, I didn't notice the name, but I DID see something like that leave here about 45 minutes ago," he advised the other man. "He took off like a bat out of hell, going that way," he added, pointing toward the south.
"I'll give you a thousand dollars to let me borrow your boat," Brian said commandingly, his words rushing out of him.
"What?" the puzzled man asked.
"Listen, no time to explain," Brian said. "At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this really IS a life or death situation," he replied, urgently trying to put as much sincerity into his statement as humanly possible while he willed this other person to somehow understand he was serious – DEADLY serious.
Fortunately, as the owner was about to nevertheless dismiss the brunet as being completely crazy, Carl managed to catch up with the pair. Flipping open his badge long enough for the stranger to notice that maybe Brian wasn't totally out of his mind after all, the detective explained quickly what had transpired and repeated Brian's request again for the use of his boat. Carl had decided along with Brian that this might just be the best alternative at the moment; he had been able to reach the Lancaster PD and convince them he was legitimate, but they advised him the patrol boat they were dispatching was coming from several miles away in the opposite direction.
Introducing himself to the others as Daniel Lewis, the owner inquired, "Do either of you even know how to operate a speed boat? Never mind," he quickly answered himself, noticing the awkward expressions on both their faces. Something in the younger man's desperate face resonated with Lewis as he suddenly decided, "I'LL go with you. Come on," he said, rushing forward to the bow as the others took a seat.
Lane glanced over once again at the captivating man lying next to him on the bed. Even asleep, the blond was absolutely enchanting: soft, shiny blond hair, lush lips, long eyelashes, and the slender, lean body. But he was growing impatient. It had been at least two hours now since Justin had drunk that champagne; he couldn't understand why the blond was still unconscious. He had only slipped in a small amount of the drug before Justin arrived; the man who had supplied him with it had said it was a fairly weak version and would only make the artist drowsy for a little while. So why was he still unconscious? "Wake up, Angel," he encouraged the man, gently shaking the younger man's bare shoulder.
With a start, he noticed Justin's body was colder than before, and his breathing seemed to be slower and deeper. Placing a hand over the blond's pulse point on his wrist, he realized his heartbeat was very slow as well. Concern began to replace his impatience; he knew very little about the drug he had purchased. I just wanted a chance for us to get to know each other better, Angel. What have I done? Rising quickly, he paced back and forth beside the bed, agonizing over what to do. Finally, after several minutes, he called over the intercom and instructed the captain to steer the yacht toward a nearby cove and wait for further instructions. I need to think, he mumbled to himself, plopping discouraged into a nearby chair.
"I just got off the phone again with the Lancaster PD," Carl advised Brian. "The patrol boat is on its way – I told them the type and name of the boat we're on as well. They have all the information about Prescott's yacht and are searching for it right now."
Nodding, Brian stood at the railing of the boat, holding on as it sped down the river, looking for Prescott's elusive craft. Please – help us find Justin in time, Brian silently pleaded. The brunet's emotions ranged from great worry over his partner to extreme hatred for the man who had stolen him away. You'd better hope the police get to you before I do, you asshole. If I find you first, I will fucking KILL you before they get to you.
"Brian! Take a look!" Rushing over in response to Carl's excited shout, the brunet narrowed his eyes and peered in the direction Carl was pointing. He could vaguely make out the outline of a maroon and white watercraft moored near a small island ahead, bobbing gently up and down in the water. Brian took the binoculars Carl had been using to search for Prescott's yacht and raised them to his eyes. After a few seconds of refocusing them, he looked more closely at the craft. The name "Blond Angel" was clearly written on the side.
"That's it!" Brian cried excitedly. "Daniel!" he shouted to the owner. "Over there!" he pointed toward the right. "That's the yacht!" Daniel nodded in understanding, instructing both men to hold on as he abruptly turned the boat and veered it in the direction of Prescott's craft anchored approximately a half mile away.
"Wait, Brian, wait," Carl beseeched the younger man. "We don't know what we're walking into here! We have to wait for the police to get here!"
Brian violently shook his head. "No fucking way, Carl! JUSTIN'S on that yacht! No fucking way am I waiting any longer. Come on, Carl – the man has DRUGGED him, I know it! Do you want to risk something bad happening to him while we're waiting for the fucking patrol boat to show up?" Brian's frustration welled up in him, and his eyes watered suddenly from unshed tears. "Please, Carl," he implored.
Carl hesitated briefly. He had his police-issued handgun with him, but he knew proper procedure would be to wait for backup to appear. Weighing all of the circumstances, however, he realized he had to agree with Brian. Prescott was a loose cannon, and Justin's life could possibly be in jeopardy. He decided now was not the time to be prudent. "Okay," he finally concurred, receiving a slight smile of gratitude and relief from the brunet. "BUT you stay behind on this boat until I know what we're up against," he cautioned the other man before he had a chance to protest. "I promise as soon as I know the situation is under control, you can help Justin." Brian knew from the other man's determined look that he would not be able to change the detective's mind. He didn't like it at all, but sighing, he nodded his assent.
Fortunately, the detective ultimately did not have to chance intercepting Prescott on his own, because he abruptly noticed a speedboat fast approaching from the opposite direction, blue and red lights flashing. As both boats approached Prescott's yacht, he could hear a bullhorn announcing the arrival of the Lancaster Police Department.
"Attention, Blond Angel! This is the Lancaster Police Department. Prepare to be boarded. All hands are to immediately come out on the deck where we can see you."
Brian impatiently waited at the railing as Lewis' boat slowed in its approach to Prescott's yacht, anxiously looking for any sign of Justin. He could see two men standing on the deck, but no sign of either his partner or Prescott. Finally, as both boats motored to a stop next to the yacht, he observed Prescott nervously emerging alone from his cabin below. "You fucker! Where is JUSTIN?" he snarled, as the other man visibly flinched. "What have you done with him? If you've hurt him, I'll fucking KILL you!"
"Brian!" Carl physically restrained the man, who was furiously attempting to break free from the detective's hold. "Not yet! Give them enough time to secure the scene!"
"Damn it, Carl! This is Justin we're talking about! Let me go, you asshole!" Brian continued to push against the other man's lock on him. He could see the policemen now swarming all over the deck, patting down each man to apparently check for any hidden weapons, and then one of them disappeared into the cabin below. Brian held his breath as he waited for what seemed like an agonizingly long time before the man reappeared on deck.
Calling over to the patrol boat, he shouted, "We need the EMT down here!"
That was all Brian needed to hear, as his blood ran cold. With an inordinate amount of strength, he violently broke from Carl's hold and jumped from the speedboat's deck directly onto the yacht. Two policemen reached quickly to pull him back from Prescott as he suddenly lunged at the other man, screaming, "I will fucking KILL YOU, Prescott! Do you hear me? I will KILL you! Let me go," he snarled at the policeman. "I need to see Justin." He struggled as they continued to hold him back from Prescott, who was being closely watched by another detective.
"Let him go," Carl said officially, flipping open his wallet to display his detective's badge. "He's Mr. Taylor's partner."
One of the policemen, acknowledging the other man's official position, agreed, but cautioned Brian, "If you go near that man, I will have to arrest you, too." He nodded at the other man holding the brunet's arms as they both let him go.
Brian did not waste any more time dealing with the man who shrunk back physically from his scathing glare of hatred. Rushing down the steps to the door of the master cabin, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. A paramedic was studiously working on Justin, who was now wearing an oxygen mask. He observed the EMT holding his partner's wrist, taking his pulse. Brian was alarmed by the sight of his normally bubbly, full-of-life lover lying still and unresponsive on the bed.
"How, how is he?" he stammered softly, slowly walking over to the opposite side of the bed. As he tenderly grasped the pale hand, he was alarmed to feel how cold it felt. "He's cold," he murmured. "What's going on?" He could not take his eyes away from the artist's face, which seemed paler than normal and displayed a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.
The paramedic could only spare a quick glance over at the concerned man standing on the other side of the bed. "He's apparently been given some type of drug, would be my guess. We won't know what it is until they can do some tests. He seems stable at the moment. But we need to get him to the hospital right away. His pulse is abnormal and his breathing is too slow." Sparing another fast look at the other man, he asked, "Are you family?"
"Yes," Brian said without hesitation. "I'm his partner."
The man was silent for a few seconds; then seemingly coming to a decision, he said, "Okay. I've called for a gurney from the patrol boat – it should be here any second. You can ride with us to the hospital, if you want."
"Thank you," Brian answered gratefully. Now that he had finally found his partner, he was not going to let him out of his sight. Looking up as he heard a rattling sound, he reluctantly released Justin's hand temporarily as two policemen helped the paramedic gently transfer the blond from the bed to a gurney.
As the two officers carried the gurney upstairs, Brian reached once again for his partner's hand, the paramedic continuing to monitor Justin's condition. Brian noticed Prescott and the crew were now handcuffed as they stood near the stern's railing. Carl walked up to him, explaining, "A couple of the policemen are going to take Prescott and his crew back to the station on Lewis' boat for questioning, so the patrol boat can take Justin directly to the hospital. I'll go with them. I understand you're going back with Justin."
"Yeah," Brian confirmed, as he briefly once again released Justin's hand. "I'm not leaving him until I find out what happened, and that he's going to be all right. The paramedic said he's fairly sure he was given some kind of drug, but they'll need to do some tests to find out what it was." He watched closely as his partner was carried between the two boats and gingerly placed on the patrol's deck.
"I'll come to the hospital as soon as I can," Carl advised him.
Brian was about to walk over to the patrol boat to board it, when he saw Prescott and his crew about to be herded over to Lewis' speedboat. "Wait a minute," he called out to the chief detective holding onto the tycoon, who was nervously studying the brunet fast approaching him.
"That's far enough, Mr. Kinney," one of the two detectives who had warned him earlier once again cautioned him.
Brian stopped approximately five feet away from Prescott. "If I ever get a chance to be alone with you, I will fucking KILL you, Prescott, do you hear me?" he repeated, this time with a deadly quiet tone. His voice rose, however, as he continued. "But if you really think in your fucked-up mind that you CARE about Justin, you will tell me WHAT you gave him before it KILLS him! TELL ME!" he commanded, glaring at the other man as he waited a few seconds for Prescott to answer.
Lane shrunk back from the man's verbal assault. But finally, his shoulders sagged as he answered softly, "GHB." Letting out a breath, he then repeated it a little more loudly. "It was GHB. I didn't mean to hurt him. I LOVE him. I just wanted to be with him," he pleaded.
"You motherfucking piece of shit!" Brian erupted, screaming at him. He lunged at the other man again, just bringing himself up short before a couple of the detectives were about to reach over to restrain him.
"Brian!" Carl admonished him. "He's not worth it! Go! They need to get Justin to a hospital!"
Brian continued to stare angrily at the other man for a few seconds, before abruptly turning on his heel and rushing over to the edge of the yacht, allowing one of the policemen to assist him as he jumped over to the deck of the patrol boat.
"He said he gave Justin GHB," he reported shakily to the paramedic, who nodded.
"I'll alert the hospital about it, so they'll be on standby in the emergency room," the paramedic replied. "Let's go," he called out to the captain. As Brian sat down cross-legged on the deck floor next to his partner, he once again reached for the blond's hand and tenderly brushed back an errant lock of soft hair from the younger man's forehead. "Hold on, Sunshine," he murmured encouragingly, as he bent down to place a tender kiss on the other man's lips. "Hold on. Please."