Desperate Lovers Read online

  John as one of theirs.

  Just then Marc heard a distinct sound, the scraping of a chair against floorboards.

  It came from upstairs.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  There was no reply, and for a second Marc contemplated leaving.

  But he closed the front door and moved forward toward the staircase. He placed a foot on the bottom step, then took another step, the winding staircase nearly pulling him up. He paused, gave a listen.

  “Parker?”

  Still, no answer.

  Chills ripped through Marc, up his spine and down to his toes.

  Something wasn’t right. He retreated to the front door, his hand on the doorknob. But then he heard that scraping sound again from upstairs. This time Marc was determined to find out what was going on; no more wimpy behavior, take charge, see what game Parker is playing. Taking the steps two at a time, Marc reached the second level of the old Victorian, his footstep so light, barely a creak sounded.

  He padded down the long hallway, finally coming to a halt outside the door to what he imagined was the master bedroom. The door was closed. He turned the knob, pushed open the door cautiously, and then peered inside.

  “Jesus Christ…Parker!”

  The man was on the bed, completely naked, his hands tied to the bedposts. A gag was stuffed in his mouth. Only his legs were loose, and one of them was resting against a wooden chair that had been pushed up to the bed; no doubt, this was the scraping sound Marc had heard. Marc stared at the sight before, not sure what to think, what to do. Was this part of the act, an S&M game that Parker had envisioned them playing out? Or had something more sinister occurred inside this home? A sex-game gone bad, or worse…a robbery?

  Marc rushed over to Parker, removed the gag.

  “You okay?”

  “Someone came by…I thought it was you…playing a game.”

  “Me? What kind of game…Parker, how did you end up tied to the bed?”

  “I was waiting upstairs for you…on the bed. I heard someone enter the house—I left the door open, so you could just let yourself in. But then the person, whoever he was, came up the stairs and stood in the doorframe. He was wearing a hood, I couldn’t see his face at all. I didn’t say your name, I wasn’t sure if it was you…or someone else, and besides, if it wasn’t you, no one needed to know that I was expecting you.”

  “What did this person do?”

  “He pulled a gun,” Parker said, his chest heaving with anxiety.

  “A gun? On Eldon Court…what the hell is happening here?”

  “Can you help me…you know, untie me?”

  Marc swallowed a bit of amusement, realizing how, despite the inherent danger Parker had just lived though, there was something really hot about this situation. A gorgeous, naked man tied to a bed that had been getting ready for a big old fuck session. Now, with Parker’s flaccid penis and Marc’s apprehension, sex was decidedly out of the question. Marc sat down on the bed and tried to calm Parker down. He reached over, undid the first of the ropes and freed Parker’s wrist from the bedpost. He repeated the process, and suddenly Parker was free of his constraints. They stared at each other, at what might have been. Marc found himself staring at the man’s body, at the thick cock between his legs and the coating of hair on his body, from his legs and arms to his hearty chest. Marc wondered again what it would feel like to have this man screwing him.

  Their eyes found each other, and Marc knew Parker was thinking the same thing, what it would be like to fuck him.

  But then, as though the wind had swept through an open window, the moment of sexual desire was gone.

  “Thanks, really,” Parker said in an effort to break the tension,

  “I…I don’t know what I would have done. I mean, what if you had

  changed your mind about coming here? I could have been tied up overnight, longer…”

  “I almost didn’t. I mean, I came here, but only to tell you that I couldn’t. I can’t cheat on Rich. No matter what he’s done to me, I can’t be like that. Like him.”

  “Rich is lucky then,” Parker said.

  Marc was silent as he looked away from the sexy body splayed out before him. A tear escaped from his eye, dripped down his cheek.

  Parker sat up, his arms reaching out to massage Marc’s shoulders. Deep heated sensations rippled through his body. This guy’s touch was electric; his hands strong and powerful, wiry hairs coating them. Marc, not able to help himself, felt his cock stiffen inside his shorts. He moved away from the edge of the bed, Parker’s hands landing in the empty space between them.

  “I’m sorry…”

  Marc waved it off; he was all business now. “What did this armed assailant want?’

  “What do you mean?”

  “A man comes into your house, pulls a gun on you, and ties you up. What did he take? Money, electronics, credit cards…what?”

  “No, nothing like that. He just wanted information.”

  “What kind?”

  Parker looked away, uncertain whether to continue or not. But

  Marc was having none of this man’s evasive behavior. He had come to Wonderland, threatening them, wanting to take away their homes and their lives, and now suddenly he was the victim and showing vulnerability for the first time. Damn if Marc wasn’t going to fall for this act.

  “Look, Parker, whatever the gunman wanted, I’m sorry…but you brought it upon yourself. All your threats, your actions at the zoning board meeting. Your insistence that you’re somehow related to the Saunders family and as such are the rightful heir to Eldon Court, you clearly pissed the wrong person off. I don’t really think you’re as evil as you’ve been trying to come across, I think you’re just looking for something…what, acceptance? Admittance into the family whose blood you share? Trouble is, you reap what you sow. Spill it, what information did he want?”

  “He demanded to know where old man Saunders is living.”

  Marc let out a sharp breath. “Did you tell him?”

  “It was that or get shot,” Parker said, and then he finished with:

  “And now I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Revenge.”

  Marc stole a look around the room, at the bare walls and the empty bureaus, remembering how the house had creaked with age, with neglect. There was an echo of the past in this house, a stench of violent death, of nothingness. No one had lived here since some horrible incident transpired ten years ago, and now the man seemingly responsible for whatever happened was old, withering away, and suddenly in grave danger.

  Was he alone in that? Or were all the residents of Eldon Court at risk?

  What next?

  PART TWO

  Hidden Agendas

  by Curtis C. Comer

  On his drive from Eldon Court to the town center known as Down Wonder, Edgar Newcastle marveled at the beautiful scenery that surrounded him. There was simply no way in hell that he was giving up this place without a fight. But what could he say to halt Danvers

  Converse’s plans? His partner, Jack, ever the health conscious, “green” guy, had long ago eschewed the use of pesticides and industrial cleaners, explaining to his amused partner that there were safer, more natural ways to do things without risking various cancers in the process. Ketchup, for instance, was a safer alternative to brass cleaner; the venerable Coca Cola might taste good but was better for removing rust. Despite his initial skepticism, Edgar finally had to admit to the efficacy of these safe alternatives. Maybe, he thought as he turned off the coastal highway and into Down Wonder, it was a new approach that he needed to take with Converse. There was always an alternative; he just needed to find it.

  Jack was waiting for him in front of the Wonderland Municipal

  Building. He kissed him on the cheek, and the two men walked into the building. Slowly, their neighbors trickled into the room and took seats.

  Edgar turned toward a commotion at the back of the room and spied Danvers Converse entering the room, followed by a younger man that Edgar didn’t recognize. Converse, bald and pale, looked to Edgar like some sort of crazed, gay turtle. After a moment, Parker St. John entered, looking horribly good in jeans and a white shirt. He took a seat with Converse. And then there was Rich; he entered the room and stopped just inside the door.

  Minutes were read from the previous meeting and new topics were announced. Edgar recognized LeeAnn Lehman. One of her colleagues was a fellow professor at the college where Edgar taught literature. Edgar hoped that the fact that he was friendly with two of the three committee members would work in favor of the current homeowners. Danvers Converse and his party extolled their proposed project as an economic boon for the area, something that Wonderland would be foolish to pass up.

  Speaking for the residents of Eldon Court, Edgar and Jack made the impassioned plea that to accept Converse’s offer would mean not only the loss of their homes—historic homes, Edgar stressed—but also the beginning of the end of the autonomy that Wonderland had always prided itself on.

  To the great surprise of everyone in the room, the board ruled in the favor of the Eldon Court residents and the room erupted into chaos.

  Once LeeAnn had managed to quiet the room, Edgar felt his heart pound when Parker St. John approached the council members with what he called “information that he had been holding back.” From a tattered envelope, his co-worker produced a copy of the original deed to the land on which Eldon Court sat.

  Edgar bristled at this revelation. If he had a copy of the deed then that meant that he had been in contact with George Saunders. Either that, or it was a fake.

  Rich, who had remained standing at the back room throughout the proceedings, suddenly confronted Parker, vowing to fight for the rest of Eldon Court.

  In the end, with this sudden new information, the council decided to put the matter on hold, pending further investigation. Although their future remained uncertain, Edgar was happy for the temporary reprieve. As the room emptied, he caught Parker St. John by the arm. Startled by the firm grasp, the younger man turned to face a visibly angry Edgar Newcastle.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” hissed Edgar, his voice low.

  “Edgar,” he replied, showing surprise at the older man’s strength.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “You’ve been to see old man Saunders,” said Edgar, relinquishing his grip. “Where is he?”

  “I really appreciated your speech,” replied Parker, ignoring

  Edgar’s question. “Well done. That’s why we came prepared.”

  “Where is George Saunders?” Edgar pressed.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I told you,” Edgar lied, “I’m working on a biography. If I can talk to him, I can finish the manuscript.”

  “Or convince him to save Eldon Court.”

  “Where is he?” repeated Edgar.

  Before Parker could reply, however, Danvers Converse bellowed for him from the door of the chambers, and he scurried to catch up to his master.

  Back in his study on Eldon Court, Edgar closed the door and sat down in front of his computer.

  A click of his mouse opened the document that he was looking for, his unfinished manuscript regarding corrupt politics in California. Tentatively titled Fools Gold: Political Corruption in San Francisco, 1848-1990, the book lambasted every mayor and politician from the days of the Gold Rush up until the very recent past. Not surprisingly, the history of the “Paris of the Pacific” was a dark, twisted tale, and Edgar was putting it all down on paper. The idea had come to Edgar when he was still a staff writer at the San Francisco Chronicle, documenting everything from the displacement of poor immigrants for land, to the monopoly of public works, to the illegal crack down on labor unions. Nobody was spared, from the mayor who turned a blind eye as unsuspecting men were “Shanghaied” into service on the schooners that traveled from San Francisco, to China to the more recent mayor—now a U.S. senator—who had no problem “gentrifying” poor neighborhoods as long as the process benefited Big Business. Not many people, especially the U.S. senator, were going to be happy with his book.

  Fortunately, because of his contacts at the Chronicle, there was a publisher who had shown interest. Emboldened by this, Edgar plugged right along in his research, often having to rely on the help of less than scrupulous individuals—many of them ex-convicts—in his quest for the truth. Fearing for his safety among men who seemed capable of anything, Edgar had resorted to something he never thought that he would do: he’d purchased a handgun.

  It was, after all, only a few days after a boulder had mysteriously crashed onto the beach below Eldon Court, narrowly missing him and Jack as they sunbathed. And there was the arsonist who had tried to burn down one of the houses. Jack, of course, could never know that Edgar had purchased the gun; aside from being a vocal opponent of guns, the fact that Edgar had bought one would no doubt prompt him to dissuade his partner from any further research.

  It had been during his research for the book that he’d kept coming across the name of Parker Saunders. Knowing that the son of Drew Saunders—one of the founders of Wonderland—had been named Parker,

  Edgar had dug deeper. One afternoon, while perusing old documents at City Hall, he’d been shocked to discover that the Judge Parker Saunders that he kept reading about in his research was indeed the son of Drew Parker. While he’d owned a mansion on Nob Hill among the other “Robber Barons” of the day, his summer home had been listed as right here in Wonderland. Further digging revealed that Parker’s son, Nathaniel, also became a San Francisco circuit judge, and that both father and son had amassed great wealth through shady land deals and bribes.

  Edgar documented it all, but the real surprise regarding the Saunders family appeared in an archived newspaper story dating from 1998, set within the walls of the present day Number Two Eldon Court. The owner, one George Saunders—the wealthy descendant of Drew Saunders—had called authorities to report an “accident” on the premises.

  The story was virtually a non-story but was fascinating for what it did not tell; inexplicably, George Saunders’ eighteen-year-old son, Troy, seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth, and—shortly thereafter—the elder Saunders embarked on a long stint in Europe, leaving the house empty.

  Although George Saunders remained one of the wealthiest men in

  California and was reported to own a home in nearby Hillsborough. But actually locating the man had proved nearly impossible for Edgar, despite his well-placed sources. Then, a call from a source that Edgar only knew by “Stokes,” providing him with a telephone number for a supposed heir to the Saunders fortune, a young man named Parker St. John.

  Under the pretense of writing a biography of Judge Parker Saunders, Edgar had phoned Parker St. John. Far from being standoffish, Parker St. John had seemed all too eager to discuss the Saunders family, and kindly consented to a telephone interview. To Edgar’s disappointment, however, Parker denied any knowledge of what had happened to Troy Saunders back in 1998, saying only that he had heard that he had mysteriously disappeared. As to the whereabouts of George Saunders, Parker had been more direct.

  “He’s probably holed up at his mansion in Hillsborough,” he said.

  “He wants nothing to do with me, so I wouldn’t know for sure.”

  “Why is that?” Edgar had asked, diplomatically.

  “You’d have to ask him,” was the curt reply.

  In the end, Edgar’s phone interview had failed to shed any light on the circumstances at Number Two Eldon Court, and only served to bolster Parker’s claim to the Saunders estate. Then, two weeks later and shortly after the boulder incident, Parker had phoned Edgar at home to insist they meet in Down Wonder. Jack had recently found Parker’s number on a piece of paper that Edgar had absently left on a table. He had, of course, been suspicious and Edgar hadn’t wanted to repeat his mistake. Pressed by Parker, however, Edgar had acquiesced and met him at the Mad Hatter.

  Edgar couldn’t help but notice that Parker St. John was incredibly good looking—an understatement really—but Edgar reminded himself why he was really there, to find George Saunders. It was during this meeting that a surprisingly sexy Parker St. John had first hinted about the plan for Wonderland Palaces.

  “But what makes you think that anyone on Eldon Court will want to give up their home?” Edgar had asked, amused by the suggestion.

  “Listen, Edgar,” Parker said, his voice low, not wanting his words to be heard by anyone else, “Anybody who helps us out will be rewarded handsomely. And I don’t just mean stock in the venture.”

  Edgar regarded the handsome, younger man in silence, carefully weighing his words. If he said the wrong thing, his chances at finding George Saunders were greatly diminished. If he said what Parker wanted to hear he stood a better chance of solving the mystery of Number Two Eldon Court.

  “What makes you think I can convince any of my neighbors to do anything they don’t want to do?”

  “You’ve lived there the longest,” replied Parker, his smile laced with charm. “You don’t have to do anything…not until we need you to.”

  Edgar nodded. It was the vaguest reply he could think of.

  Fortunately, this small gesture had apparently fooled Parker St. John, who promised to “be in touch.”

  Then the day came when all of Eldon Court learned of the scheme to convert their quiet little neighborhood into Wonderland Palaces. Caught technically somewhere in the middle, Edgar had remained mostly quiet about Parker St. John and what he had already learned. Things were about to reach a crescendo and Edgar realized that it was time to take a stand…to choose sides, something that he had no question about.

  Edgar shut down his computer and stowed the disc containing his manuscript in the file cabinet, which he locked. No, there was no way they were ever leaving this house, not if Edgar Newcastle could help it. Lost in thought, he didn’t even hear his partner, Jack, knock on the door frame outside the study.