by J. M. Dabney
“Are we going home?”
“Your surprise isn’t over with yet.”
He cuddled against Livingston’s back as they drove out the way they came. He couldn’t wait for another surprise.
Nine
Close Enough to Touch
A perfect view of the street was framed through the big windows at the front of the Bakery. A shiver of disgust traveled their spine as they took in the scene as bikes roared in the distance then quickly came into view. Five days they’d worked that menial job making coffees and conversation while tempering their loathing of everyone they met. It hadn’t taken a lot to get a job working at Decadence Bakery, but they hated every minute of it. Screaming children ran around all the time. Brats by the names of Gunner and Rage, chasing some squealing kid named Mal. The man who owned the place let those filthy things do as they pleased.
They barely kept from snarling as the kids bumped them as the brats moved about. Thankfully, they didn’t have to deal with the brats today. Ben, the owner, informed them this morning he’d sent the children to spend the day with his husband, Psycho. They didn’t like how the huge man looked at them. Suspicious and all-knowing, no one had a clue why they were there.
They held their breath as Fielding’s long, beautiful hair appeared from beneath a helmet. Perfect, delicate features bright and innocent, Fielding’s cheeks pink. They strangled a rag in their hands at the sight of that ugly bastard soiling Fielding with his scarred hands.
Fielding would be punished accordingly for letting another touch him, but they had to bide their time. It was perfectly planned, and it couldn’t have worked out better. All they’d needed was to get Fielding away from L.A., and they’d succeeded. They were close enough to touch, and soon they’d have him; they’d held on patiently. Why their Fielding was with a bunch of bikers and letting the ugliest of the bunch touch him, they didn’t know.
They owned the boy.
“I’m taking a break, if that’s okay?” They asked with a perfect smile and waited for Ben to answer.
“You’re fine, go ahead. We have another hour before rush hour hits.”
“Thank you.”
They clenched their jaw at the role of servant. They were better than everyone in this town. Perverts and freaks, unwashed masses that included the boss’ husband. Quickly they made their way outside, inhaled the fresh afternoon air.
“Could you bring your asses into the diner, fuck, you can get your boy on your dick later, I’m hungry.” A heavily tattooed man they’d learned was named Little, a co-worker of the bastard currently groping Fielding.
“Dude, language.” Another of the co-workers, a big guy with a baby face smacked Little on the back of his head.
“Dude, no one is around.”
“Get the hell inside.”
“Who needs to watch their language now.”
“Shut the fuck up, Little, and get inside before I let Pure kick your scrawny ass.” The scarred one shoved Little with the arm that wasn’t currently around Fielding.
“Ain’t nothing scrawny about this hot ass.”
The group disappeared inside, the streets weren’t deserted but close enough for what they needed to do. They pulled the envelope out of their apron with a gloved covered hand and jogged across the street. It needed to be done quickly. The bikes weren’t in clear view of the table the group had taken, and the coast was clear. They dropped the thick envelope on the ground and tucked it under the back wheel.
They moved away, back toward Decadence, calmly looked around to see if someone had spotted them. A slow, smile tugged at the corners of their mouth. Fielding would be theirs—it was only a matter of time.
Ten
Rage in the Aftermath
He clenched his fists on his thighs and ground his back teeth together. The day started out fine. He’d taken his boy to the lake to get him out of the house, and then out to lunch with his Crew. After that everything went to hell. His job was the only thing in his life he had to take pride in and no matter how empty that made his life seem it was what it was. He’d fucked up, and he should’ve kept Fielding locked away in the cabin. He squeezed his hands tighter until his knuckles cracked.
“Calm the fuck down, Liv.” Pelter’s sharp command barely broke through the rage causing the blood to pound in his ears.
The motherfucker was close enough to leave a goddamned note, and he wasn’t supposed to be pissed, yeah, fucking right.
“Why wasn’t I told that we had a situation?”
“Pelter, we did use your landing strip to bring someone in.” Linus leaned back against the long conference table.
None of them wanted to call Camden in on the matter. The big bastard had already arrested them once for going rogue during a rescue to get his over-sized ass out of trouble. The thanks they’d received was being arrested for everything from jaywalking to being questioned for murders old enough to be cold cases older than them.
He darted a glance to where Fielding was curled up in one of the large chairs with his arms wrapped around himself. The misery on his beautiful face broke him. He was meant to keep that young man safe, and he hadn’t. Now, the person after him was in Powers. They still didn’t have any fucking clues. The note they’d found after they and the Crew had lunch had four words written in block letters. Close enough to touch.
“No fingerprints, no trace evidence really. Whoever this person is, the bastard knows what he’s doing. How the hell he tracked Fielding down, I’m fucking clueless. We haven’t shared a fucking thing with anyone.”
“Then let’s look at who we have shared information with.”
Pelter kept his position leaned back against the wall and Linus pushed himself up to sit on the table. The rest of them took seats wherever. He tugged Fielding close and took the boy’s chilled hand. He didn’t know what to say to make his boy feel better. The only time they’d ventured into town was today, other than their one trip there for check-in with the team.
“The only people who know are in this room, his parents, and agent.”
“What do we know about the agent?”
“Bastard named Grant. Has a taste for barely legal male prostitutes. Nothing stands out in his background check. A lot of high profile clients.”
“So, no chance of him being the stalker?”
“I'm not going to say no, but no real evidence.”
“What about the parents?”
“Married for thirty years, from all outward appearance perfect couple. Now, look deeper, Mr. Haskell has a girlfriend the same age as Fielding.”
He turned to study Fielding’s expression, but shock wasn't present.
“You knew?”
“I don't think Father has been faithful a day in his life.”
“Have you noticed anyone following you? Maybe paying too much attention?”
“No, not—”
“Daddy?”
He turned toward the door at the sound of Saint’s sweet voice to find the young man standing there with his twin, Sin, behind him, and Elisabeth in Saint’s arms. Elisabeth wore a tiny flight suit with a patch with her name embroidered on it. They were serious about Elisabeth following in Saint’s footsteps as a pilot.
“What’s wrong?”
Camden was in movement immediately and had his boys and daughter wrapped in his arms.
“We made the mistake of saying Da was with Uncle Livingston.”
As if on cue, Elisabeth started looking around, and he smiled as he stood, Elisabeth’s chubby arms reached for him.
“Aw, are your Daddies not treating you right?”
He plucked Elisabeth from Saint as the little girl reached for his face, squeezing his cheeks in her tiny hands. He had a huge soft spot for his nieces and nephews, well, they were really his only soft spot, except for Fielding now.
“Of course my daughter would love your ugly mug.”
“Don’t hate, Cam, she has great taste.” He quipped as he loudly kissed one chunky cheek and then the other, not
caring about the slobber the teething baby was leaving on his face and in his beard. Her long, dark brown curls with natural blonde highlights swung around her beautiful face. He carried her back to his seat, he sat with her on his lap, and she bounced and squealed.
“Is that your way of asking if my daughter can sit in on the meeting?”
“I didn’t ask, and since she’s going to work with us one day—”
“You lost your damn mind. She’s going to be a pilot like Ellison.”
He was still pissed off, but who could stay mad with so much cuteness. He turned his head as he felt Fielding’s cheek against his bicep and the boy was making funny faces at Elisabeth making her laugh.
“Have one of your own and give mine back.” Cam made a grab for Elisabeth.
“Children, can we get back to work?” Linus asked.
“I’m not stopping y’all,” he answered.
He watched as Cam led his boys to two empty seats and pulled them out, then kissed their cheeks. Cam had run from his boys in the name of protecting them from tying them to someone with a dangerous career. Liv hadn’t thought the man would ever give in, but jealousy had taken over. Cam took his usual spot between them. The love the three men had for each other was clear for anyone to see. He tore his attention from them and back to Elisabeth. He held her sides as she bounced.
“What about Mrs. Haskell?” Gage asked without looking up from his tablet.
Gage had taken an active role in the company, but the last few years he was pulling farther away from the action.
Elisabeth curled her arms against her and leaned against his chest. He studied her as she closed her eyes, her long black lashes resting on her rounded cheeks.
“Standing Botox appointments, gym, her financials are boring as fuck,” Little whined. “Called a contact of mine, had them do a bit of surveillance for me.”
“And we’re just fucking hearing about this one?” Linus hopped off the table.
“Ain’t costing us anything, I called in a favor for the pretty little man.”
“You want to die today, Little?”
“If you’re going to kill me, then maybe.” Little waggled his brows and blew kisses at Fielding.
His boy giggled. He jerked his gaze toward Fielding and took in the pink of Fielding’s cheeks. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion he’d experienced in his life. Yes, he envied his friends and sometimes strangers for the things in their life that seemed to come so easy for them, but never like that. No one other than him should even look in Fielding’s direction.
He lowered his voice and asked, “Do we need to add to the rules again?”
“Sorry, Daddy.” Fielding lowered his gaze to his lap and blushed redder.
“Well, well—”
The crazy man had the nerve to fucking chuckle. He flipped Little off and adjusted Elisabeth until her head rested on his shoulder. Her face buried against his throat.
“Do you want me to take her, Liv?”
“She’s fine, Saint.”
“Okay.”
Sin and Saint curled on either side of Camden as the big man possessively rested his arms over both their laps. All the couples and triads he knew were so open with their love and affection for each other. His mind went back to the conversation earlier about what Fielding wanted. Could he be that person for Fielding? He didn’t know if he had it in him to give Fielding everything the boy needed, but it didn’t mean that the thoughts weren’t torturing him. Yet, he couldn’t even keep his boy safe on his turf, and the note was proof of that.
“Little, did your contact find anything useful?” he asked to change the subject and get the meeting back on track.
“Except for his parents being the most boring motherfuckers in existence, not even a fucking parking ticket. I got pictures of old flabby ass in mid-thrust, and you can practically hear the wheezing, but the bored expression on her face is fucking killer—” Little let out a weird maniacal giggle and twisted his laptop around for them to see.
Everyone avoided the laptop screen, and the ceiling became fascinating as hell.
“We’re going to have to move Fielding.”
“How do you know your location has been compromised?”
Instead of turning his head, he spun the chair so he didn’t disturb the baby. “I don’t, but to be on the safe side.”
“This might be weird, but I got an idea,” Pure spoke up from his spot beside Raul.
“You’re talking weird when you’re dealing with a Crew?” Sin asked.
Laughter filled the room, and the tension eased.
“That is true. This person is obviously obsessed, but from all evidence, they ain’t stupid. They cover their tracks even their digital ones, but I’d be willing to bet that their fixation with Fielding would overwhelm their sense of survival.”
“And how would we set a trap? Hunter’s the best hacker in the country. Cops and federal agents have all been involved. We’re more the brute force kinda Crew.”
“Not all of us are all brawn and no brains, some of us haven’t fried our brains with illegal substances or obsession with dick or pussy.”
“Damn, we got our sweet Pure using dick and pussy in the same sentence, and I don’t want to hear illegal substance bullshit, who went streaking when we smo—”
“Little, off track.”
“Streaking, what the fuck is he talking about, streaking?” Raul growled and turned a murderous glare at Pure.
“Can we get back—”
“I think—”
“Children, get your fucking heads in the game, it’s a wonder we get a fucking thing done.” Linus sounded disgusted, but the evil mirth in the man’s eyes gave him away.
They’d had a bit too much the night of Linus’ last birthday. He was well aware of the streaking incident, and Linus was right there with Pure. He tried to forget that night, Hunter, Wren, and Linus going at it later that evening had mentally scarred him for fucking life. There were some things he didn’t need to know about his best friends and teammates.
“We kill Fielding,” Pure announced like he had said it was raining outside.
It wasn’t the idea that shocked him so much it was the fact it was Pure who came up with it. Pure was their most by-the-book member they had.
He raised his left hand and mussed the long strands of Fielding’s hair and felt his boy lean into his touch.
“I’m too pretty for jail, so that’s all y’all.” Little crossed his arms and spun his chair away from the table.
“You just want to shoot something,” Linus accused.
“Actually, it’s not a bad idea. We have an actor, an experienced sniper, and a top-notch PR guy.” Camden sounded too amused by that idea.
“It seems Cam already has a plan, lay it out for us, Pure.”
“Like Camden said, we have an experienced actor who I’m sure can pull off a convincing death. We make a very public execution. Fielding will wear a vest. I’ll use non-lethal rounds, and we can bring in everyone to brief them on the situation. He can be rushed to the hospital. Gage can hold a press conference announcing Fielding’s death and accuse the stalker. The stalker might not believe it, but we’ve outed him, and there’s a chance he’ll get sloppy. On the off-chance he does believe it, we can stake out the morgue for the stalker making an attempt to see Fielding’s body.”
“I repeat, you just want to shoot something.”
“I admit to nothing.” Pure’s expression was too sweet and innocent. “I won’t actually shoot him. Three shots near enough for a casual observer to think he was actually hit. A few blood packs with small explosions and we have enough blood to make it look real. There’d be so much chaos and what do people do when shots are fired?”
“They take cover and look for where the shots are coming from.”
“Exactly.”
“Come with us,” Sin and Saint spoke in unison as they swiped Elisabeth and Fielding, leading Fielding out of the conference room.
“Your boys stole mine.�
� He glared at Cam.
“Yours, huh? Does he know that?” Cam asked.
He didn’t want to answer, he didn’t mind being an asshole, but asshole Livingston had told the innocent Fielding that whatever happened between them wouldn’t last longer than a matter of months. He was going to get enough shit when he sent Fielding back to L.A.
“That’s my business, now, let’s get back to work.”
Luckily everyone got their shit together, and they planned, making lists of everyone they needed to call in, but there were few they trusted. He put it all out of his head and set aside his sins to contemplate later.
Eleven
Nowhere is Safe
Fielding looked out over the street from the break room window. He’d allowed himself to forget the reason he was there for a minute and it was ruined all because of a note. Some obsessive fan who didn’t know him but thought he belonged to them. He’d assumed it was a man, but it could very well be a woman, someone he’d passed on the street, and he never knew.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
He turned and stared at the twins, he knew everyone else could tell them apart, but he’d only met them briefly once.
He must have stared too long because one of them smiled indulgently as the man cuddled the little girl to his chest. “I’m Saint.”
“Doesn’t—”
“Daddy calls me Ellison. We don’t like when other people use our first names.”
The same shock he’d felt in the conference room hit him again at the man calling the Sheriff Daddy. It just seemed weird, but he’d done the same with Livingston. Life seemed so much easier before he’d come here. He knew what to expect at home. His life was regimented, days told in spans of auditions, filming, gym, and in calorie counts. In Powers, everyone said what was on their minds. They didn’t seem to care what people thought. In a matter of weeks, he was falling for some guy he called Daddy. A man who took care of him and didn’t berate him or mentally and emotionally abuse him like every other person in his life had done.
