Justin's eyes slowly widened as the awareness of his new reality fully dawned on him. He was busted now. He may have entered the beach house with a key - one that he inappropriately obtained - but now, he had been caught by the obvious owner. There wasn't a doubt this man would turn him over to the police. He wasn't sure how far he had traveled from home. At the least, it had been a hundred miles. The driving had been long, not to mention the hours he'd spent on foot. Regardless of the distance, as of tomorrow morning, Chris Hobbs, Sr. would have made his ‘supposed' crime front-page news. Any cop in the state would jump on this case without a moment of hesitation.

"Well, Goldilocks? The hour is late... and I wasn't aware of hosting a beach party tonight." Brian peered around the room. "Are you alone... or is your little girlfriend hiding in the bathroom?"

Momentarily forgetting his fear, first due to the beautiful stranger's nonchalant manner - and fuck was he ever beautiful; then, in disgust at the last part of his question, Justin scrunched up his nose in complete distaste. "Uhhh... no."

Brian clicked his tongue. "Oh, it does speak. No to what part? I believe it was a two-part question."

Justin licked his lips nervously, not oblivious to the gorgeous brunet's eyes following the action. "Right. Actually, the answer is still no... to both parts. And I think it's a three-part question since you initially asked why I was in one of your beds."

Arching a brow, refusing to smile at the incredible balls this hot little blond possessed, Brian curtly replied, "Quite a mouth on someone I could hand over to the authorities with one quick phone call."

With that, Justin came immediately back to his senses. He jumped from the bed, reaching for his jeans, uncaring that the man watched and admired him as he slid into them, his backside was the most prominent view given. Turning around quickly, flushing from the admiring look on the man's face, Justin stammered, "T-there's no need to do that, Sir. I'll j-just be on my way. I didn't think the house was occupied..."

"Didn't think the house was occupied..." he parroted in a monotone voice. "Yeah. That makes breaking and entering more acceptable."

"Technically, I didn't break-in. The key was under the mat..."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to my houseman about that."

"I'm sorry; I'll just be on my way..." Justin slipped his shirt on, he bent over for his shoes, moving to get them on as quickly as possible.

Silently, he watched the young blond, speculation in his cautious gaze. Something was off with the young man. He wasn't on a lark, a dare, or any sort of teenage excursion; the boy was frightened. The boy was running from something... or someone. When he'd mentioned the police, the blood drained completely from his already pale face. What could be chasing this innocent-looking boy? And why was he so curious about the answer? "Where will you go?"

Shrugging, Justin told him, "Somewhere... anywhere."

"It's good to know you have a plan," Brian muttered derisively. He moved away from the doorway as the blond moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he stepped up to him. The boy was clearly exhausted, there was a pallor in his cheeks that was far from normal. It could be stress, hunger, many things, but it made him curious. "When did you last eat?"

Justin didn't even know the answer. "What time is it now?"

"Nearing four A.M." Brian moved closer, his eyes studying the nervous boy even more intensely. "What's your name?"

"Justin." Fuck. What was he doing? He was - by now - a wanted criminal, and he was giving his name to a complete stranger. He was losing his mind! "What does it matter? I'm leaving."

Brian placed his arm in front of the body of blond Justin, for some reason not wanting him to just scurry off into the night. His curiosity had been piqued - and for the first time in longer than he could remember. He wasn't sure he wanted that to end. "Come downstairs. I'll get you something to eat before you go."

"You don't have to do that..." Justin half-heartedly protested. He knew he should get out of here quickly. Being recognized was the last thing he wanted to do; then again, he was hungry. He needed to hold onto every last dollar he had as long as he could.

"I know I don't..." Brian leaned in closer, his breath virtually fanning the blond's lips. "Now... how about you stop arguing, and just let me extend a kindness."

"Okay..." he agreed, hoping he wasn't making a colossal mistake. "I guess I could eat something."

Chief Jim Stockwell rolled over in his bed, snatching at the phone that was ringing incessantly on the nightstand. "Stockwell," he growled into the mouthpiece.

"We need to talk." Chris Hobbs, Sr. hissed into the phone from outside of the emergency care unit. "I'm stuck here at the hospital... so, you'll need to come to me."

Squinting his eyes, he sat up on the side of his bed, mindful not to disturb his wife any more than possible. "Can't it wait until morning, Chris? It's four A.M!"

"I don't give a damn what time it is! I need to know that your men are working around the clock to hunt down this worthless faggot! The more time that goes by, the greater the odds that he'll get away. He needs to be brought in tonight!!"

"Calm down! You won't do either you or your son any good like this!" He looked to his side and watched as his wife slid into her robe and slippers, silently he waved her off in understanding when she mouthed to him she would put on some coffee. Thank God, he thought to himself. If he was going to deal with this shit at this time of night, coffee was only the start of what he needed.

His back momentarily tensed at the mention of his son. He had probably gone too far tonight, although he felt no remorse in pinning the blame on Justin Taylor. As far as he was concerned - all queers were freak shows. They needed to be locked away or eradicated from existence... anything that isolated them from decent people. When he had seen his son being coerced into that repulsive act, he had to take a stand. Chris would know he did it for his own good. If nothing else, he made a man of him tonight. He doubted his son would ever be tempted into such hideous actions again. "My son is still unconscious. If I wasn't so worried about him, I'd be out looking for the fucker myself!"

Waiting until the door closed behind his wife, Jim snarled into the phone, "You need to be exactly where you are! Think what you're saying, Chris! You are the most homophobic man in town - outside of myself. Everything has to go by the book and leave no room for doubt. I'm telling you right now - this can't come down as another gay hate crime. If it does - we all have a lot to lose!"

"What are you saying, Jim? I'm an innocent victim here." His chest began to pound at the implications. He was relatively sure that Jim Stockwell wouldn't sell him out; his hate for queers was just as intense, but he didn't trust anyone. In this case, he was certain that was the only safe stance for him to take.

"Of course you are, Chris." His voice was condescending, both of them knowing suspicion was present, yet, he didn't care enough to question it. In the back of his mind, though, he knew it was too much of a coincidence that the Hobbs' security system malfunctioning at that particular time was more than suspect. A lot happened at that pool, he was sure of it. All that mattered to him right now was knowing there would be one less queer walking about in his town. "Stop by my office in the morning. We'll see where we are, then. In the meantime, I wouldn't worry too much about Justin Taylor. The kid is dirt poor. He can't get too far. In fact, he probably didn't even make it out before our roadblocks went up."

Dragging an unsteady hand through his hair, Chris told his friend, "I hope so." After ending the call, he paced the corridor, waiting for the doctor to finish. He needed to talk to his son... and before fucking Horvath got to him. He was one of the few cops in town his money couldn't reach. Their stories needed to match. He would make certain that they did.

"This is so good," Justin spoke in between mouthfuls, practically devouring the grilled cheese sandwich placed in front of him. He popped several chips into his mouth at once, unable to believe just how hungry he must have been.

Brian laughed from across the table. "Not the healthiest dining fare for this hour of the night... or morning, but it's something even I can throw together."

"I take it you're not a culinary expert?" Justin queried, uncertain of why he was feeling so much at ease. He had no way of knowing this man hadn't already called the cops on him, or that he wouldn't do so the moment his back was turned.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "Now... how about you tell me the reason you needed to hide out in my house? Did you get your girlfriend knocked up?"

Justin shuddered. "Not even close. Uhhh, did you tell me your name?"

"I didn't, but being that you've slept in one of my beds, and I've fed you, I suppose that can be arranged." Removing Justin's empty plate from the table, Brian turned and answered with a mock bow, before eloquently proclaiming, "Brian Kinney at your service... Goldilocks."

"I told you my name, and still you call me - that," Justin bemoaned.

Brian smirked. "Does it bother you?"

Justin laughed. "I doubt you'd care if it did."

"Probably not. Okay, the pleasantries have all been observed. Now... how about you tell me why you feel the need to hide out. Obviously, I know it's not a girlfriend. I know you are queer. My radar never fails me on that." Ignoring Justin's preference, deciding he was amused by calling him by the name of a fictitious girl, Brian more aggressively asked him, "What are you running from, Goldilocks? Give me a reason to help you, because lies will have you out on your ass and running from whatever hunts you."

"I-it's a long and complicated story and not a nice one. It would be better for you if you didn't know too much. I don't want to drag you down with me." Justin shook his head, knowing this part of the discussion shouldn't even be an issue now, but as always - curiosity killed the cat. "How do you know I'm gay?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I have a lifetime of experience on that subject. We can return to that later. For now, I want to know what kind of trouble you're in, and trust me when I say I don't worry about 'guilt by association'. What did you do, Justin?"

All at once, the reality of his predicament hit him full force. The anger was gone, at least for the moment, only to be replaced with despair. One lone tear slid down the side of his face, his lower lip beginning to quiver. "All I did was try to protect my family, and be the man my mom raised me to be. Now, the biggest homophobic prick I know is trying to railroad me because he can't accept a bit of home truth. I can't go back there - ever. All that's left is for me to run."

TBC