GAME ON - GoM 2

11

Tom woke up at midnight, and the first thing he noticed was that Alex's side of the bed was still vacant. He jumped to his feet, put on his pants and stalked out of the room.

Claire couldn't tell what woke her up: Tom knocking on her door or how upset he was.

"She's not back," he said when the girl opened her bedroom door.

"What time is it?"

"Midnight. I'm going to the church to check on her."

"Okay. Give me a minute."

"I'm warming the car."

Father Jason's front door opened as they climbed down of the Yukon. Thames showed at the doorway. He saw their faces and frowned.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where's Alex?"

"Here?" Tom replied coldly.

"What? No. She called about eight and said she was going straight home. Come on in."

"Oh, boy," Claire mumbled.

Thames let them in and closed the door with one last glance at the quiet, empty street.

"You're saying she never came here?" Tom insisted.

Thames shook his head.

Tom traded a meaningful look with Claire. "She's at Markus'."

Thames and the girl grabbed Tom's arms when he tried to leave.

"Wait, Tom!"

"You cannot just go knock on his door!"

"Watch me," Tom snarled, trying to shake them off. "Let go of...!"

He trailed off when they heard a car speeding up from Maine Street to squeal to a sharp stop right outside the church.

Claire felt the choking cold and took both hands to her throat, turning pale with a muffled groan.

Thames pointed his finger at Tom's nose first, then to the girl. "Keep her safe," he said, dead serious.

"What the hell?" Tom growled when Thames hurried out.

Claire needed to gasp a couple of times before she was able to say, "He's here."

"He who! Markus?"

The girl shook her head, eyes full of tears.

"Speak, Claire!"

"It's Blake," she murmured.

Tom turned to look at the front door Thames had just crossed and back at Claire.

"Blake? You mean...?"

Claire could only nod.

Tom grabbed her arms and made her sit on the couch. "Stay here," he said, and hurried out.

Blake stood right in the beam of one of the spotlights lighting the side of the church, casting his huge shadow on the wall. He wore a wealthy suit but no tie, the first button of his shirt open. His lips were pursed in a smug smile and he kept his hands in his slack's pockets.

Thames was five steps away, fists clenched against his legs.

Tom didn't need Claire's empathy to feel the tension spiking between them. And he didn't give a damn either. He strode toward Blake, brushing past Thames before the priest could even notice he was there.

"Where is she, you son of a bitch!" Tom snarled, his fists aching to visit Blake's smirk up close.

Blake only glanced at him and met Thames' eyes again, saying softly, "Down, dog."

Tom bent over himself with a low growl, grasping his belly, that suddenly felt like a furious fire. He clenched his teeth and struggled to straighten up, taking another step.

"Tom, no!" Thames shouted behind him.

Blake rolled his eyes. "I said down."

The pain turned so sharp, so overwhelming, that Tom let out another growl as his knees buckled. He fell at Blake's feet, gasping for air, arms folded tightly across his burning belly, blood filling his mouth.

Blake nodded, pleased. "Good dog."

His mock made Tom try to overcome the pain ripping him apart inside. He sank his fists in the grass to push himself up, back to his feet. But Blake's finger poked his forehead. Tom felt as if a rock crushed his skull. He crumbled down, barely conscious and still shrieking in pain.

"Stop!" Thames cried, running to Tom's side.

"Always so soft, Greg," Blake replied. "Pets must learn their place."