Silent Sin by E J Russell

Author:E J Russell [Russell, E J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947033085
Publisher: Reality Optional Press
Published: 2020-03-02T23:00:00+00:00

“Martin. I—” Robbie’s breath had gotten lost somewhere on the wild drive from Wesley’s apartment. He was afraid his heart would jump out of his chest right there on Martin’s front stoop while he gasped like a landed trout.

“Rob?” Martin stood in the open door, fully dressed, his suitcases lined up in the vestibule behind him. “What’s wrong?”

Robbie just shook his head, the nightmare of the last hour stopping his voice somewhere south of his throat. He wanted nothing more than for Martin to hold him.

Luckily, Martin seemed to realize that. He took Robbie’s arm and drew him inside.

That gentle tick of the closing door sparked the explosion, and a sob tore out of him. Martin immediately embraced him and drew Robbie’s head against his shoulder. “My dear, what is it? What’s happened?”

For a moment Robbie allowed the bottled-up awfulness to escape, but then he realized that he’d get tears and snot all over Martin’s nice suit if he kept it up. Pa’s words echoed in his mind. Men don’t cry. Toughen up and get over it. So he took a shuddering breath, ready to step away, but Martin held him closer.

“Let me hold you, Rob. Please. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Robbie nodded, his cheek rubbing against the smooth wool of Martin’s coat. He probably should fight harder, but he needed this. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re doing me the favor. Do you know how much I’ve longed to have you in my arms again?” A chuckle rumbled through Martin’s chest. “Although I admit I was imagining rather different circumstances.” He kissed the top of Robbie’s head. “Not that I’m complaining—I rather like easy access to your lovely hair—but where’s your hat?”

Robbie’s hand twitched toward his head, but he grasped Martin’s lapel instead. “I have no idea.”

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? I don’t want to rush you, but we do have a train to catch.”

“Wesley….”

Martin stiffened, his arms tightening around Robbie’s ribs. “Did he threaten you? By God, I’ll kill him.”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But when I got to his place, there was an ambulance. Reporters. Mr. McCorkle. Mr. Jacob.”

“The damned fool,” Martin muttered. “Was it the drugs?”

“Mr. McCorkle told the reporters it was pneumonia, brought on by worry over his grandfather’s health.”

Martin shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The same grandfather who died the night of The Three Musketeers premiere?”

Robbie drew back and blinked up at Martin. “Oh. I’d forgotten. Maybe the other grandfather?”

“My dear, Wesley may have half a dozen grandfathers—”

Robbie’s chuckle caught on a hiccup. “That’d be kind of hard.”

“Not if Leo has anything to do with it. In any case, I doubt any one of those legions of grandfathers, should they exist, is ill. Wesley has apparently learned nothing since we rescued him outside the theater that night. He’s certainly ignored all my warnings about indulging in those highly suspect medications. I suspect they’ll take him to one of the discreet sanitariums up in Santa Barbara to recover.”

“But—but what about The California Trail? He has one of the main parts.

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