Free Drawn Together by Z. A. Maxfield Page A

walked up to the man, who had a coffee in one hand and casually flipped through an ancient copy of Teen People with the other.
    Rory stood before him. “Do you know who I am?”
    “You’re the guy,” said the officer, jumping to his feet excitedly. “We’ve been looking for you.”
    “I’m back,” said Rory curtly.
    The young officer took in Rory’s battered face, his bloodstained, filthy clothes, his damp shoes, and his current expression. “What the hell happened to you?”
    “You going to give me a hard time?” Rory demanded, his hand already on the door to Yamane’s room. “I’m going in.”
    The officer looked marginally sympathetic. “Go ahead. I’ll call you in found.”
    “Not to Jenks, he’s not a real cop, right?” he asked, holding his body rigid as if he had to decide whether to flee.
    “No, there’s no one named Jenks on this case,” said the officer earnestly. He pulled out his ID. “But I’m for real, and I’ll tell my superior you’ve been found.
    Rory carefully looked his badge over. “You know, I’m all about trust, but from now on, it doesn’t matter what anyone shows me. I’m going to look after Yamane and myself as if every one of you is the bastard who did this to me.”
    “Understood,” said the officer, this time with true pity on his face. “But we won’t let you down again.”
    “I know,” said Rory. He turned and entered the room. Approaching the hospital bed, he noticed that Yamane was asleep, probably aided by some sort of sedative, because it was far too early. He put down the guardrail and sat on the side of the bed. Having reached his destination, Rory felt pain signals for the first time. His body was remarkably resilient. This would not be the first time Rory had taken advantage of that fact.
    Rory leaned over and looked at Yamane’s face. It was so beautiful in the late afternoon light that it took Rory’s breath away. The shocking beating he had taken combined with the stark terror of coming to what seemed certain to be the end of his life made him want to touch someone.
    Rory contented himself with stroking Yamane’s long hair gently with his fingers. As he did this, Yamane stirred slightly and opened his eyes. When he saw Rory, he immediately put his good arm out. Yamane said nothing but gathered Rory to him in an unyielding embrace.
    Yamane pulled Rory’s face into the crook of his neck, and his injured hand came over to gently stroke his back. Under this tender assault, Rory completely gave up control and cried like a baby.
    46 Z. A. Maxfield
    Chapter Eight
    “I’m sorry,” Rory said, standing up and wiping his face with the sleeve of his filthy shirt. “Wow. I don’t know what that was all about.”
    “I am so relieved to see you,” Yamane whispered. “I thought…”
    “We Delaplaines are a scrappy lot.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to break down like that; I can’t remember the last time it happened. Probably when I was a little kid.”
    “It’s not important. Where have you been?” asked Yamane. “You look awful.”
    “I feel like I’m going to puke up a kidney.” Rory walked to the bathroom.
    While Rory was gone, Yamane signaled the nurse’s station. An impersonal voice came over the intercom. “Can I help you?”
    “I need some help in here. My friend is badly injured.” Rory came out of the bathroom, moving slowly. “It’s worse than I thought; I’m pretty sure I need medical attention.” Rory looked pale. The bruising on his flesh stood out against his bloodless face. “I’m sorry.”
    Jenkins came in, followed by a nurse with a wheelchair. “Shit,” said Jenkins. “You should have gone to emergency right away.”
    “I wasn’t thinking,” murmured Rory, looking away. He moaned and put his head down.
    Jenkins helped him into the wheelchair. “I’m Jenkins. I’m the detective on Yamane’s case. I have lots of questions to ask you, but first, you get examined. For all we know, you’re