Bonds of Love

hit the floor as he fell. His chest was on fire—eachheartbeat felt like a punch, as if there were someone inside himtrying to get out. A desolate keening filled his ears, a sound thatmimicked the pain that riddled his body. At first he thought it wasan alarm of sorts, the wail of an ambulance perhaps, or some othersiren. Then he realized it was a human voice, one he knew all toowell.
Matt.
With Herculean effort, Vic sat up and gasped.Gunpowder and smoke filled his lungs, but the world around him wasa blinding shade of white. He shook his head to clear his visionand managed to draw in one shuddery breath before strong armswrapped around his shoulders to catch him in a vise-like hug. “Oh,God,” Matt sobbed into his neck. His normally steady voicehiccupped with fear. “Oh, God, Vic. I thought, God. He shotyou! I thought, I thought—”
“I’m fine,” Vic assured him. Then he remembered thegun, the guy wielding it, the kid with the knife, and he tried toget to his feet, but Matt held him down. “Matty, I’m fine. Really.But the gun—”
“He shot you,” Matt replied, as if Vic mighthave somehow missed this fact. Relaxing his death grip, Matt rockedback and ran his hands over Vic’s chest. His eyes were wild, acombination of alcohol and fear, and the connection between theirminds buzzed with incoherent thoughts, a whirlwind of shock andrelief. Matt’s hands trembled as they danced over Vic’s chest.“Right here,” he mumbled, his fingers picking at a tiny round holeshot through Vic’s shirt. “And here. And here.”
As he found each bullet hole, Matt’s eyes widened indisbelief. His fingers poked through the holes to brush acrossVic’s hairless chest. “You should be bleeding,” Matt whispered. Hetugged at Vic’s shirt, popping a few of the buttons in his haste toassess the damage. “Vic, he was right in front of you. Point-blankrange. You should be dead.”
“But I’m not.” Catching his lover’s wrists in hishands, Vic pressed Matt’s palm to his lips. With tentative fingersMatt touched his face, then pulled free of Vic’s grip to run hishands over Vic’s smooth, bald scalp. Vic let his eyes slip shut asMatt explored his face with his hands as if to assure himself Vicwas still there. Around them, the rest of the world began to comeinto focus, drifting towards Vic in waves of harsh, loud noise. Sothey weren’t alone, but at the moment Matt was all that existed forhim. Over the blur in their minds, Vic asked Matt, ::Where’s theguy with the gun?::
::Gone.::
“Where?” Vic wanted to know.
Matt shrugged. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “Don’tcare. The bastard shot you and ran off like a coward. God, Ithought you were…I mean, Vic—”
“I’m fine.”
As if he didn’t quite believe that, Matt rubbed hishands over Vic’s skull until his fingers found the folds of hislover’s ears. His thumbs trailed over the numerous hoop earringsthat lined Vic’s lobes as if counting to make sure each one was inits proper place. Then he cupped his hands around Vic’s face andforced him to meet his gaze. Matt’s green eyes flashed, fear stillhidden in their depths. Touching his forehead to Vic’s, Mattwhispered, “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not,” Vic assured him.
At that, Matt pressed his lips to Vic’s in a hungry,relieved kiss.
When Matt finally helped him to his feet, Vic foundthe previously half-empty store now bustling with people, most ofthem in blue police uniforms. Reporters and onlookers outsideshoved against the front windows and glass doors, jostling forposition as they tried to assess the damage inside. The guy withthe knife sat in one corner of the store, hood pulled up to coverhis face, hands cuffed behind his back—so they didn’t all get away.He stared at the legs of the policeman who guarded him and didn’tbother to look around at the confusion his friend had caused. WhenVic probed his mind, the guy winced and ducked down farther intohimself.
Unsteady on his feet, Vic reached out for the counterand found Matt there instead, holding onto him. “God,” his loversighed as he leaned against Vic’s side.
With detachment, Vic watched his own arm come uparound Matt’s shoulders, an almost negligent gesture designed tokeep him close. One thought ran through his mind, panicky when henoticed the reporters and their cameras outside. ::Nocomment,:: Vic thought, over and over again.
Matt gave him a tight squeeze and nodded. “I know,”he murmured. “I know.”
A tentative hand touched Vic’s shoulder. “Sir?”
He turned to find a young female cop behind him, penand paper in hand. Her blonde hair was pulled into a crisp bun atthe base of her neck, and the dark, smudged eyeliner she wore madeher eyes look weary. As Vic focused on her, she gave him a tiredsmile. “I just need to get a statement from you. Name?”
“Vic,” Matt answered.
The cop’s gaze flickered over to him, then snappedback to Vic. “Braunson, isn’t it? Aren’t you the one who rescuedthose kids off the interstate overpass last year?”
Vic’s eyes hardened with distrust. “I wouldn’t sayrescued—”
“I heard something about a car wreck downtown,” thecop continued. “A while back? You drive a bus for the city,right?”
Vic wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. By theway Matt’s hands fisted in Vic’s shirt, it seemed his lover wasjust as wary. “I work for the Transit Authority,” he said slowly.“Why?”
The cop’s smile turned disarming. “You always seem tobe in the right place at the right time.”
Her thoughts flashed through Vic’s mind like greaseon a frying pan—The guys at the precinct call you Superman.The almost star-struck way she watched him made him think she likedthe nickname. Vic tried to shrug her off. “Just lucky, Iguess.”
She pointed at his chest with her pen—the tip touchedthe frayed threads of one bullet hole. “I’d say. Witnesses tell meyou took three shots to the chest.”
Waving her pen aside, Vic assured her, “I’mfine.”
“You’re saying he missed?” she asked. “All threetimes? He stood right in front of you, Mr. Braunson. What’s withthese holes?”
“Moths?” At her slight frown, Vic shook his head.“Look, I don’t know what happened, all right? That’s the truth. ButI’m not the one with the gun here, lady. We just came