Catching Kit Read online

“Tough.”

  Denny steered him through the crowd in front of the tube station, and Kit wriggled and strained like an apprehended shoplifter. They resembled nothing out of the ordinary, just an officer making an arrest—as long as nobody spotted the incriminating bulge in the front of Denny’s trousers, which Kit must have sensed every time he brushed his arse, hip, or the sides of his swaying hands against him. Was he doing that deliberately?

  Tension burned in Denny’s every fiber, and when they turned up the side street where he’d parked his van, his agony refused to abate. Kit dragged his feet. The effort of hauling him along exhausted Denny.

  Finally they reached his vehicle, white and unmarked with any form of government insignia. Other EB agents would be able to identify it by a triangular logo on the side, which contained a dumpy black rat with three long whiskers and the unmemorable title, EBCA Pest Control.

  Absorbing the sight, Kit rattled out a nervous laugh. “Pest control, huh? Why don’t we forget that and hit the town? There’s some good clubs around here—at least there used to be, last time I was about. I’m sure I could show you a good time. Must be even better around here without the blackouts.”

  Blackouts? Apart from the odd power cut, London hadn’t experience blackouts since World War II. This elf talked crap, all right.

  “Not another word, or I’ll have to gag you.” Although Denny hated using such restraints as part of his job, he imbued his voice with a razor-sharp edge of threat, which sliced to its target. Kit shut up, although he offered Denny a quizzical look, arching a brow.

  Well, they were near Soho and London’s red-light district. Kit’s reaction to the suggestion of a gag set Denny pondering what kinds of clubs the EB had in mind. Then he checked himself.

  How unprofessional. He must concentrate.

  He pushed Kit up the step into the back of the van. After keying in a code with a single hand, he unlocked another door, pressed his prisoner into a metal cage, and slammed it shut. The elf sat down on the floor. He drew his knees to his chin and hid his face behind his cuffed hands.

  Denny’s emotions contradicted everything his rational mind believed.

  He felt cruel. He wanted to assure the elf everything would be okay, which it would be, in a way. EBs were mutants, leeches, vermin to be controlled. Everything Kit said was meaningless. He wasn’t truly sentient…was he?

  Denny opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but words refused to come. In his short time on the job, he’d made a dozen arrests, and while he’d never relished the task, his feelings toward this particular EB overpowered any pity he’d felt before.

  Yeah. I feel differently because he’s got a cuter arse than the others. At least I seem to think so, sad sod that I’ve become.

  Oh, and because he offered to suck my dick.

  He needed to get laid. Hell, he needed a long holiday, if looking at EBs made him even think about getting laid. Shutting the van door, he shook his head. He’d let himself be mind-fucked by an elf, and now he’d be late to visit his daughter.

  He hurried around to the driver’s seat. He had to get to the detainment depot and off-load this one as fast as he could.

  Chapter Two

  Denny pulled the van out into the heavy traffic and turned the cab heating knob toward high. Then he switched on his hands-free vehicle comms to relay his status and await his delivery instructions.

  The EB storage supervisor, Laura, offered him wave after wave of bad news. “They’re full up at Islington, so it looks like you’d best head over to the Croydon depot. They’ve got storage space there… Ah, wait a moment. Croydon’s no good. Their IT systems are down, and they can’t log any new arrivals. Looks like you’re in for the long haul over to Dartford. I’m sorry, but it’ll be well past Jen’s bedtime when you get to her.”

  “Dartford?” He squinted miserably at the red double-decker bus pulling out in front of him. It would take hours to get to Dartford. The traffic would be a nightmare, especially now the rain was growing heavy. He switched on the windscreen wipers, then grabbed a cloth to scrub the steamed-up windowpane to his right. “Should I take the M25?”

  Laura’s sigh crackled over the airwaves. “Latest updates say there’s been a pileup near junction four, so you’re in for delays whichever way you go. Look, I know it’s frowned upon, but could you just leave the EB in your van while you pop in to see Jen and then contain it yourself until tomorrow? I’ll do the paperwork, take the flak.”

  He winced. Laura was one of the few colleagues he enjoyed chatting with, and they had been for drinks together a few times. For a while, he’d worried she fancied him. Then he’d realized she behaved like that with everyone, just too bloody nice. The sort of person who could easily be taken advantage of.

  “No, Laura. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  “It won’t take five minutes. Just think of it like this: I’m doing it for Jen, so she can see her dad tonight.”

  He glanced at the time: 7:31 p.m. Past Jen’s bedtime already. If the traffic started shifting, he might still make it before she went to sleep, although he’d not risk taking the van over to Saritha’s. If Jen heard Kit singing, she’d ask all sorts of questions. Most adults were easily conned by government propaganda rubbishing the existence of EBs and rarely identified them, even on close encounter. Kids were harder to fool. Children noticed things like pointy ears and unseasonal cheeriness. Elf rumors would be trending on Twitter in no time, and that always pissed Denny’s bosses off. Besides, he hated having to lie directly to Jen about what he did for a living.

  “Okay, thanks. I owe you one. I’ll store the elf at my place and zip over on my bike. Don’t want Saritha to think I’m parking felons on her forecourt and ban me from visiting.”

  Laura hissed sympathetically. “She won’t stop you seeing Jen. You’re a good dad. But I know she doesn’t always make things easy for you. I just hope the traffic behaves. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it. Bye.”

  He headed south toward the Thames, but the traffic turned out to be the horror Laura had predicted. Another bus blocked him, and he couldn’t get past until it had stopped five times. He queued over Battersea Bridge, and then a four-by-four cut him off at some traffic lights, all before he hit another jam between the squat trees and low-lying terraces on Earlsfield Road. Eight o’clock approached fast, and he’d not even got back to his place yet, let alone started the short ride to Saritha’s upmarket apartment block.

  Worst of all, the elf started singing again, some stupid ditty entreating listeners to smile, although amid the drone of the traffic, his voice sounded sad and brittle. A sense of maudlin seized Denny, a lump filling his throat. Kit had seemed happy earlier, so bright and alive.

  So damn hot.

  He thumped the sliding partition that communicated between the cage and the cab. “Keep it down, will you? You’ve made me late to visit my daughter.”

  Kit trailed off, and Denny resolved to call Saritha. He pressed the Dial button on his hands-free phone.

  “Why don’t you just let me go?” called Kit.

  “Shut it. Oh God, sorry, sorry…not you.” Denny’s ex had picked up the phone at the worst possible time. “I wasn’t talking to you, Saritha. I was talking to— Look, not you, all right? Is Jen still up? Look…look…can you tell her Daddy’s stuck in traffic and… What?” He shifted the phone several inches from his head so his ears didn’t sting.

  “If you can’t make the effort to be here on time,” said Saritha, “then Jen doesn’t want to see you. Let her go to bed and get some sleep, or you’ll ruin tomorrow for her as well.”

  The next day, a Friday, was Jen’s eighth birthday. Denny pleaded his case, but he didn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight. If Jen didn’t want him to visit, what was the point? In the end, he hung up. He regretted his action, but after the day he’d had, being told he was a lousy father proved more than he could bear. Boiling up, he unzipped his jacket, turned down the heating, and wiped swea
t from his brow. His guilt over the elf and now Jen left him feeling bruised inside.

  He made an executive decision. Even though he couldn’t see his daughter, he’d be damned if he’d trawl all the way over to Dartford after hours. He’d store the elf in his garage and go to bed.

  And I’m not taking this EB home because I feel sorry for him, or because some mad part of me wants to get naked with him. I’m not tired enough to be quite that stupid.

  He turned on the radio and listened to the football news. Every time the tuning strayed or the volume dipped a little, he strained his ears in case Kit sang again. He didn’t hear a thing.

  Twenty minutes later, he arrived at his house, a semidetached former council property that he’d bought after his relationship with Saritha fell apart. Bumping over the high curb, he backed his van up the short driveway until the doors leveled a yard from the garage, which contained a small EB storage facility, fitted for emergencies. He hurried in and switched the light on. He’d never used this steel EB safe before, which stood on strong metal legs a couple of feet above the concrete floor. Concentrating on procedure, he opened the door and went through the safety checks, making sure all was sound before he addressed the issue of transferring the elf.

  He returned to the van. Opening the cage door, he flashed his torch inside. Kit flinched and then cursed, shielding his eyes with his cuffed hands. Denny took advantage of his dazzled state to drag him out and down the steps. Before Kit could dig in his heels, Denny pushed him through the garage door and pulled it shut behind.

  Kit swung to face him. His eyeliner had smudged, and he hunched his shoulders forward so the hard lines of his bones were visible through his clothes.

  “Is this the depot?” asked the elf.

  Denny put down the torch, fighting another pang of shame over how gaunt and terrified Kit looked. They’d look after the elf well enough at the depot, when Denny passed him on tomorrow.

  “No. You’re at my place.”

  “Oh.” Kit’s demeanor softened, his relief tangible. “So you changed your mind about taking me in?”

  He glared directly at Kit. Big mistake. Kit straightened his back, puffing his drooping fringe from his eyes, and all his charms seemed to flow back. “It’s not the prettiest home I’ve ever seen,” he said, looking around. He had a perfect profile, his pointed chin dusted with the merest hint of golden stubble. “But I’m sure we can get cozy. Where’s the bed?”

  “This is the garage. You’re going in that safe, and I’m going in the house. Not another word, or you’ll be keeping those cuffs on all night.”

  Despite his threat, Denny removed the restraints and turned Kit around. He steered him toward the safe, avoiding touching the sweet curves of his arse.

  “It’s really cold in here,” said Kit.

  Yeah. That’s the reason you’ve not given me another full-fledged erection.

  “Never mind,” replied Denny. Elves didn’t feel the cold. He’d learned that in training, although the chill sharpened the odor of petrol that oozed from a can in the corner. He couldn’t deny that the place was unpleasant. “It’s only one night…and…and… What?”

  The elf looked back over his shoulder, offering a lopsided smile.

  “What?” demanded Denny.

  “Nothing. It’s just…I’m sorry I made you late for your daughter. Maybe I could sing for her? I’m still getting the hang of this modern music, but— Agh.”

  Denny shoved him forward, harder than before. No way would he let this menace near Jen and Saritha. “I’ll be back in the morning to take you somewhere better equipped to handle you.”

  “But you want to handle me.” As Kit spoke, Denny placed a hand on his head, pushing him down so he sat on the edge of the safe. “At first I thought you just enjoyed roughing folk up, like so many of ’em. But you’re not like that, are you?”

  Kneeling in front of the safe, Denny shifted Kit farther in before rising to check that the air vents weren’t blocked. Kit gasped, stretching so he nearly touched Denny’s chest. “You’ve got a pierced nipple. Can I touch it?”

  Denny glanced down. Both his nipples were pierced, but he wore a ring in only one these days. Now that he’d undone his jacket, it was visible through his T-shirt.

  If you stared really hard.

  Denny’s dick gave a mild jerk. Both nipples tingled.

  “Have you got any other piercings?” asked Kit.

  No, he didn’t. He’d had to let the ones in his eyebrow and nose close up in order to get a decent job, and he was too damn shy to get his cock done. But he’d hardly explain that now, not with Kit’s husky tones lingering in his mind and murmuring a thousand promises. He checked he wouldn’t trap the elf’s fingers, slammed the safe door shut, and fled.

  The night was growing even colder, and his breath clouded in the air. The brick facade of his house loomed to the side of the adjoining garage, the windows darkly opaque. The sole illumination came from a lamppost on the far side of the street and the intermittent flashes radiating from his neighbor John’s flat-screen TV.

  While he fumbled with his key, Denny glanced through John’s open curtains and spied him playing a war game on his latest console. Denny rolled his eyes. At least he wasn’t the only singleton on the street. He’d go mad if, like John, he worked from home every day, staring at a screen to develop computer software. Coming home to an empty house had to be better than never leaving it.

  Sort of.

  Once through the front door, he switched on the light. Jen’s two latest school photos smiled down at him from the wall, but beyond that, only a small telephone table, a pair of muddy running shoes, and three pots of magnolia paint stacked beneath the coat hooks greeted him. He hung up his jacket. One day he might get around to brightening up the battleship-gray decor. At least the house felt warm. The heating had been left on low, but compared to outside, the glow was subtropical.

  He picked up his mail from the doormat and tossed a bill aside onto one of the paint pots. A small white envelope addressed in a shaky, old-fashioned hand caught his eye. The writing belonged to his great-uncle, Henry.

  Henry had been in the hospital, then a care home for the past three months, after a stroke that had luckily proved slight. He had recovered well, although was not due to go home until next week. Judging from the Bromley postmark on the envelope, however, Henry had arrived back already. Denny’s relief mingled with a mounting sense of pressure. Next time he’d got a free moment, he’d like to pop over to Henry’s for a longer visit than usual, though that might cut further into his time with Jen.

  In the lounge, he slumped onto the sofa and placed the unopened letter on the seat beside him, followed by his mobile comms unit, which he retrieved from his trouser pocket. Leaning back and shutting his eyes, he urged his muscles to relax.

  It was no good.

  His groin ached dully. Loosening his fly, he shoved a hand down the front of his trousers for comfort and then reached for the TV remote. He switched on a football match he couldn’t have given a toss about—Charlton Athletic versus Sheffield Wednesday—and tried to think of anything but Kit so the remnants of his hard-on would fade.

  He ought to call Saritha and smooth things over before tomorrow, but he couldn’t face her now. He liked Saritha, despite her temper, and she’d been understanding about his bisexuality before they’d split. But she’d hated his piercings, and during one feverish row, she’d accused him of having “disgusting habits.” His mind drifted upstairs, to his drawer of ladies’ underwear and leathers. While he’d had partners more sympathetic and indulgent than Saritha had turned out to be, he’d never found anybody who’d shared his private penchant for cross-dressing and his other quiet kinks.

  I reckon that elf might.

  Lightly rubbing his cock, Denny grinned. He pictured Kit pressing those expressive lips to his nipples, sucking and tugging, circling the ring with his tongue, and…

  Damn it. Tired or otherwise, he hadn’t been this hopelessly horny
since his teenage years. Kit had fed these images into his mind, or something screwed up like that. He gritted his teeth, slipping his hand from his trousers.

  No way would he wank over an EB.

  He opened his letter, scanning it quickly. Henry said his health seemed “as good as can be expected for an old duffer like me.”

  But the nonagenarian’s well-being was not the thrust of the message.

  “I worked for the government for sixty years, and I know one has to be careful what one says. But you and I must talk more on the subject of EBs and the time I’ve passed with them. Being stuck in that blessed institution afforded me many hours to ponder, and I tell you now—my conscience will not let me rest until I explain to you the truth of the matter.”

  He frowned. Henry had once been high up in MI5, and before his illness he had encouraged Denny to apply for a surveillance job at the Houses of Parliament. Over the past few months, no opportunity had arisen to divulge in full to his great-uncle the details of the top secret EB-catching role the government had offered instead. Naturally Denny had not wanted to fob Henry off with his usual cover story about being a plainclothes security man, but on his last visit to the care home, their conversation had verged on dangerous.

  His great-uncle had asked about his job and appeared to instantly comprehend the truth behind Denny’s vague answer regarding “Underground security” and “internal threat assessment.” His expression had become graver with every syllable Denny uttered.

  After that, they’d each said little, exchanging strained looks and taking furtive sips of tea, mutually understanding they daren’t speak freely in such a public place.

  Eventually Henry had leaned forward to take a finger of shortbread from a plate on the occasional table and muttered, “Encountered many elves yet, lad?”

  “Just a few, yes,” Denny had hissed, before a nurse rescued him by announcing the end of visiting time. Henry’s scrutinizing stare had informed him then he’d not heard the last of the matter. The final sentences his uncle had written before signing off confirmed this.