Eye of the Beholder

Blake Marsh, robbery-homicide detective, can't stand flaky, wardrobe-challenged Attis Gallagher. He thinks the self-proclaimed psychic is a complete nut job. When his protective instincts kick in, and he's forced to keep Attis safe from an unknown attacker, he begins to see things in a different light.

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Chapters 1 2   3  4   5  6 7 8 9 10 11




                                Pike's Peak 






                                                                  Chapter 1


 A/N: Reviews for this new story? I know I shouldn't be starting a new one, but my brain...my brain...it is ever too fertile :P -Dl


    Rupert Moresby looked around in panic. Dear God, where was he?! Damn that GPS system! Clearly it was broken, because it was telling him that he was four blocks from the local Hilton, but he SERIOUSLY doubted that! Unless the Hilton corporation had decided to build one of their classy hotels in the middle of the ghetto…He cursed the rental car company under his breath, especially when he glanced at the fuel gauge and realized that his rental car was almost out of gas.  He was supposed to pull over somewhere around here and pump gas? But it was either that or he ran out of gas entirely, and had to start walking or call a cab company and ask them to come to where he was - and since he had no idea where he was at the moment, how could he give the cab driver directions? He had no choice.
 
He tentatively pulled into a small convenience store with a Spanish name on the sign. They had a single gas pump. He got out of the rental car, and almost immediately six men peeled themselves off the side of the convenience store and sauntered toward him. He felt terror rush through him, and would have gotten back into his car. But they were too close already, he wouldn’t have time…

   “Hey, Mister, that’s a nice car,” one of the young men commented.

“It’s a rental,” Rupert said hurriedly, backing up.

  Another young man, this one Hispanic, spoke up: “That suit a rental, too?” he asked, his eyes running over Rupert’s body assessingly.

   “No. Listen, I just want to get some gas…” Rupert said desperately. 

   “We’ll let you get gas, hombre. Don’t worry. We just want you to pay the toll.”

 “Toll?” Rupert could hear his voice rising, and tried to calm himself down a little. But it was impossible.

   “Yeah, just a little toll. A few bucks,” the first speaker flashed him an evil smile.

 “I don’t have much money on me,” Rupert said in a trembling voice. 

   “Guy like you should have cash. Or maybe that watch,” the Hispanic youth said, eyeing his wrist.

 “Please, I just want some gas,” Rupert nearly wailed, wishing that he’d gone onward past this convenience store even if it meant that he’d have run out of gas somewhere further on.

  “And all we want is our toll,” the first speaker said menacingly. “You don’t pay, we might get mad. You don’t want that, do you?”

 Rupert looked around wildly, but the clerk in the convenience store was pretending that she didn’t see what was going on in the parking lot. “I’ll give you what cash I’ve got,” he said, reaching for his wallet. “And then you can just go.”

 “We’ll see. Depends on how much you’ve got,” another of the group remarked. He was a black youth; this was an astoundingly diverse group of young men. Rupert might have marveled at that if he hadn’t been so utterly terrified. He was sure that they weren’t going to be satisfied with the pittance of cash that he kept in his wallet. What would they do to him when he showed them the two twenties that were the only cash that he carried on him?

    “Hey,  Benny, you and your dogs hassling somebody again?” a voice sneered from somewhere nearby.

 Rupert looked over at the same time that the youths did. He saw a guy standing nearby, staring at them. He was short, but somehow made up for that by sheer presence. He was wearing a pair of tatty black jeans and a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, displaying two muscular arms covered with tattoos. His face was aquiline, with a narrow jaw-line beard, a scar on one cheek, and enough piercing to set off metal detectors like crazy. He had a stainless steel ring through one nostril of his nose, three through his right eyebrow, and half-a-dozen through his earlobes. A cross dangled from his right ear. His head was mostly shaved, except for a messy mohawk. The tips of the mohawk had been dyed into a rainbow of colors. His lidded black eyes were staring at the main instigator of the group, the scruffy white boy.

 “What’s it to you, Pike?” the white boy called Benny sneered. 

 The man called Pike lifted his upper lift slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like to see you bothering upstanding citizens, Benny,” he replied coolly.

 Benny snorted. “Since when?! Just get lost, Pike. This is none of your business.”

 “Maybe I’ve decided to make it my business, Benny,” the tattooed man said.

There was uneasy movement among the six youths, much to the watching Rupert’s surprise. These boys were scared of this one man! He stared at the tattooed man called Pike, trying to see what was so frightening about him, but he couldn’t quite see it. But Benny said, with much bravado: “We ain’t scared of you, Pike,(which statement was clearly untrue)so why don’t you just get lost?”

 The man called Pike shrugged, setting his hands at his belt casually. “Because I don’t feel like it,” he replied. “Whatcha going to do about it, Benny?”

   There was a hurried conference between the youths in whispered tones, but finally the one called Benny broke away and said defiantly: “We can take you, Pike.”

  A small smile slid over the tattooed man’s lips. “Is that so? Well, come and get me, Benny. Or run away like the pussies you are.”

  Okay, that made them mad! The youths growled and converged on the man in a pack. Rupert felt terror lash through him, and fumbled out his cell phone to call the police. Those boys would kill that man! And all because he was trying to intervene and get them to leave Rupert alone. He couldn’t just stand idly by and watch that man get beaten to a pulp, or maybe even killed, for his sake…

But before he could dial 911, he saw a sight that froze him to the spot with his jaw dangling and his eyes wide. The man called Pike…pulverized the six youths. He did it with a controlled, contained ferocity that stunned the watching Rupert,  bashing heads, kicking kneecaps, breaking arms…it was shocking, it was violent, it was…amazing…the boys didn’t stand a chance, despite being six on one. The last one fell without a cry, as the tattooed man’s elbow connected with his jaw like a hammer. He stood there in the circle of fallen youths, looking around himself as he rubbed his knuckles a bit.

   Rupert found his voice at last. “Are they…dead?!” he squeaked in horror, because despite the fact that they’d been threatening and intimidating him he didn’t want to be an accomplice to murder.
 
“No, they’re not,” the man called Pike replied casually, poking at one of the fallen boys with his foot. The youth groaned feebly but didn’t move.  “They’ll live to rob another day,” he added sardonically. His black eyes lifted to Rupert’s. “What are you doing in a neighborhood like this?” he asked.

   “Oh, I…I got lost. The GPS device on this rental car is broken. I followed the directions faithfully, and this is where I ended up. And I was running out of gas, so I stopped…” he waved at the convenience store with the Spanish name. “I hoped to get directions back to…” he stopped, looking embarrassed.

 “Civilization?” Pike remarked with a cynical smile. Seeing Rupert’s expression, he grinned faintly. “Where were you going in the first place?”

 “The Hilton. I’ve got a room booked there for a business conference I’m supposed to attend,” Rupert explained. 

“Ah. I can give you directions on how to get there,” Pike remarked casually, pulling a box out of his pocket and sticking a foul-looking black cigarette in his mouth. He lit it with a battered stainless steel lighter, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Better than any GPS device,” he went on. “For a price, that is.”

 Rupert stared at him. Had he just walked out of the frying pan and into the fire?! Seeing the look on his face, Pike’s feral grin widened. “You have to feed me,” he explained. “I was just on my way to the Mexican restaurant down the street from here to snag some dinner. You feed me, and I’ll make sure you get to the Hilton all right without anybody else bothering you.”

   “Oh,” Rupert felt such relief that he wanted to slide down into a puddle on the cracked concrete. “But I have to put gas in the car first…”

 “Not a problem. Give me some cash, and I’ll pay for the gas. I speak Spanish,” he added when Rupert gave him another suspicious look. “Bet you don’t. This part of town is almost all Spanish-speakers.”

 “Oh,” he said again, and handed over one of the twenties to Pike when the tattooed man strolled over to him. “Is that enough?”
 
“Should be. Back in a moment,” he walked into the convenience store, his stride a tightly controlled pace that reminded Rupert of a video that he’d seen of a tiger hunting in its native jungle.  

 He stood there waiting, feeling vulnerable and worried. What if more thugs came along? Those that Pike had flattened were reviving, and dragging themselves away as fast as they could manage on damaged legs. None of them spoke to Rupert or looked back. Pike came back out of the store, nodding at him. “Pump the gas now,” he said.

 Rupert did as he was told, running up twenty dollars worth of gas pretty quickly. Pike came over and leaned on the hood of the rental car, his arms folded over his chest. “What kind of business?” he asked after a moment, making Rupert jump.

“What?”

 “What kind of business? You said you were here for a conference?”

   “Oh, yes. Erm, financial management.”

   Pike tilted his mohawked head to the side. “So you’re good with money?” he asked.

 “Yes, I guess so. I’m good at my job, anyway.”

 Contemplative silence. “So if I gave you some money to invest, you could make some smart picks?” Pike asked him.

 Startled, Rupert just stared at him. “Never judge a book by its cover,” Pike said in amusement.  

 “Err, yes, I could do that,” Rupert said hurriedly, feeling rather bad about making assumptions. 

Pike nodded. “Good. Let’s get going. I’ll tell you where to go,” he turned and sauntered around to the passenger’s side of the car.

 “You’re…going with me?” Rupert asked.

 Pike stared at him over the roof of the car. “Well, yes. Did you think I was going to draw you a map?  I’ll direct you to where to go, and you can feed me at the same time. We’ll go through a drive-thru or something.”

 He had to let this dangerous stranger into his rental car? But still…Pike had just saved him from that gang of youths. Pike waited patiently, and finally Rupert got into the car and leaned over to unlock the other door. Pike casually slid into the passenger’s seat. “It’s good that you’re nervous,” he noted. When Rupert stared at him, he shrugged. “Not that I’ll hurt you, but you don’t know that, do you? A lot of people get hurt or killed because they don’t have good survival instincts. What’s your name, anyway?”

 “Rupert,” he replied, wondering if he should give out even that much information about himself.

 “Rupert. Weird name,” the tattooed man mused.

 “That coming from a guy named Pike?” Rupert heard himself saying, then froze in anticipation of feeling the other man’s wrath.

 Silence, then Pike chuckled. “You’ve got me there,” he replied. “Now drive, Rupert. I’ll tell you where to go.”



   An hour later, a grateful Rupert turned into the parking lot of the Hilton. Pike had directed him to a better part of town, where he’d used a credit card to top up the tank of the rental car. Then they’d gone through a fast food drive-thru, and he’d bought Pike dinner.  Then, after Pike had finished eating, he’d given Rupert directions on how to get here. His fingers uncurled from the steering wheel, and he slumped in his seat. “Thank you,” he said fervently, turning to Pike.

 The black eyes were watching him. “You’re welcome. Now I’ll collect the last of my payment for helping you, and be on my way,” Pike replied.

 “Payment?” he repeated in puzzlement. “Do you want money?”

   Pike’s lip curled. “Nah,” he said, then to his total and utter shock the tattooed man leaned over the seat and kissed him full on the mouth!   His lips were firm and warm, and his tongue(when he slid it into the shocked Rupert’s open mouth)tasted like the nasty cigarettes, a slight hint of alcohol, and what might have been peppermints. He had to lean up as well as over to kiss Rupert, but he managed just fine. One of his hands curled around the back of his head, to keep him from moving. Fingers caressed his hair as Pike’s tongue stroked over his. He moaned, unable to stop himself.

 Then Pike was drawing back, a slight smile on his face. “There,” he remarked. “My payment. One more thing,” he said as a dazed Rupert just sat in his seat blank-eyed and out of it, “Here’s my number.  Call me if you feel like taking that to its logical conclusion,” he handed Rupert a folded piece of paper, grinned at him, and hopped out of the rental car. He leaned back in to say: “Bye, Rupert. Nice meeting you,” he winked audaciously, then strolled away down the parking lot without a backward glance.  


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