His Kidnapper's Shoes Read Free

What’s her name…Katie? Thought everything looked pretty peachy where she’s concerned?’
    Shit. He couldn't deal with this. Len was a decent enough guy but Daniel didn’t do talking about messy emotional stuff with anyone and he didn’t intend to start with Len. Sure, he’d begun to open up with Katie, especially in bed, but he sure as hell would never be between the sheets with her again. Anyway, Katie hadn’t been what had driven him to the punch bag. She was collateral damage.
    He realised Len was waiting for an answer. ‘Look, I’m OK, mate. Really.’ He pulled away and headed back to the flat. Len was right. He wouldn’t get the answers he wanted from a punch bag. Not from beer, either. Maybe he’d go back to screwing things out of his system.
    Sex had always been his drug of choice. And, yeah, he liked to shag. A lot. With his looks, he rarely went home alone, always picking bed partners who just wanted a good time sweating up the sheets before saying goodbye. He never saw anyone more than three or four times, figuring after that he was in way too deep and he needed to get the hell out.
    Because Daniel Bateman didn’t do commitment. Oh no. He found them, fucked them and forgot them, the sex being easy, convenient and shallow. Just the way he liked it. On the nights when he felt good, he went out and found someone to screw. Any time things weren’t so good – say if he’d been brooding about his stepfather – he reacted in similar fashion by going out on the pull. Blondes were his favourite, with the stereotypical big tits and tight ass. He’d worked his way through his share of brunettes and redheads too, and had been in the sack a few times with older women.
    He’d shagged guys, too. He liked to think he was as straight acting as they came, but apparently, that posed a challenge to some of the gay boys around town. He didn’t go for twinkly little queens, but if a good-looking guy who acted as straight as he did crossed his radar, then he’d play along. Discreetly, though. He usually subjected Tim to every detail of his exploits with women, but Daniel didn’t think he’d be too receptive to the idea of a flatmate who swung both ways. Might make him go all homo-scaredy-cat on him and Daniel didn’t want that. Tim was OK and he could do without the hassle of finding somewhere else to live.
    He liked the contrast with screwing women he got with men. There were times he needed to be in bed with someone who sported hard angles and body hair rather than curves and smoothness. He made it clear each time who would be on top. No way would he ever bottom with another man; if the guy was OK with that, then game on.
    Yep, shallow sex came out the winner as his drug of choice all right. More accurately, it had done.
    Until Katie Trebasco came along.
    He sure as hell didn’t know what to do about any of it and the punch bag and the booze hadn’t told him. He doubted whether going back to screwing around would either, but it was worth a try. Not tonight, though. He felt too soused with the drink to do much in the sack and his current dark mood would hardly bag him a warm body for the night. Too late to go out on the pull, anyway.
    He looked at the clock. Shit. Nearly midnight, and work in a few hours. He staggered to his feet, heading towards the bathroom. Best to be in bed before Tim got back. He couldn’t face the meaningful looks and pointed clearing away of the empty beer bottles.
    He needed his bed.
    Along with turning the clock back a few weeks. Yeah. A miracle would solve everything.
     

3
     
     
     
    ALCOHOL AND OPALS
     
     
     
     
    I think I’m in some sort of psychiatric facility although I’m not sure; I’ve not been taking note of what’s going on around me. My confinement in this place must be because of my violence at the police station, when they forced me to provide a DNA sample. In contrast, the staff here must think of me as quite the model patient, always calm and compliant,