Instead, he’d gone with Fraser looking for his own Dom or bear or something. He wasn’t quite sure. A baby to the scene of BDSM, Triton wasn’t even sure he wanted what they offered. He’d gone in green, but was fascinated by what he saw. It was amazing, the difference in shapes, sizes, and personalities of the men he’d found.
The only problem was that none of them compared to Diesel. Not one of them came close to matching up to the gruff soldier.
He’d left the club feeling more alone than ever, and to make matters worse, a buddy of Clay’s had seen him there and reported back to Clay.
“You like that shit? You want to be fucking beat? Well, let me help you out!”
Clay had lost his temper and had beat him severely.
Then Clay had said he was sorry.
A week later, he’d been late getting home from work and Clay punched him, then said he was sorry. The rage and following apologies were on constant repeat. He lived in terror that he’d set Clay off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he told Fraser, getting out of the VW.
This was all his fault anyway. He brought out the worst in people. If he could only figure out what he was doing wrong, he could fix it.
Triton
The laughter from the living room turned his stomach queasy when he entered the apartment after work.
Putting his things in his room, he headed straight for the kitchen.
It was a mess.
He started dumping beer bottles into the trashcan, hoping like hell the guys were drunk and almost passed out. Half eaten plates of food were scraped and the sink loaded with soapy water. He swept up the trash that littered the floor from where the guys were too lazy to throw the cans, chip, cookie, and snack wrappers into the trash can.
Sinking his hands into the water, he let the warmth calm his nerves. He ran his hands over a plate only to drop it when a body pressed into him from behind.
“What’s for dinner?” Clay murmured against his neck. Stale beer and cigarettes wafted over the side of Triton’s face, causing him to shiver.
“I’m going to make spaghetti.” He reached for and gripped the plate tightly.
“Okay, but you better put enough hamburger in it this time,” Clay bitched.
“I will.” He was quick to respond and then took a deep breath. Washing the plate, he rinsed it and set it in the drainer. “Maddox needs me out at the ranch.”
The silence behind him was terrifying, and every muscle in his body went tense.
“For how fucking long?” Clay snarled, yanking him around with cruel hands, grabbing his upper arms.
“N-n-not long,” he stammered. “Bull took a fall,” he lied.
Clay’s hand went to his hair and yanked his head back. He cried out, but the sound was swallowed beneath the laughter and television from the other room. Brown eyes with the same spider-like intensity of Auto’s glared down at him.
“Your cousin is a controlling dick.” Fingers squeezed and the pain in his scalp brought him up on his toes. “Say it! Tell me he’s a fucking dick.”
“H-he-he’s a dick,” Triton whimpered, the words ringing in his own ears.
“That’s right, and don’t you fucking forget it. I won’t ever let him come between us again. And you won’t either because if you do? Remember what I said.” Clay’s grip turned brutal. “I’ll kill that old man and his foreman too.”
Clay threatened and Triton believed he’d do it.
“They’ll pay the consequences for your fuck up.” Clay shook him. “Do you hear me?”
“Yes! Yes, I hear you.” His voice shook along with his body.
“Promise me.”
“I-I-I promise.”
“Three days, that’s all. You’ve got three days, and then I want your ass back here.”
Tears sprang to his eyes and he stared at Clay. Shivers of fear raced down his spine so quickly, his body gave an uncontrollable shudder. I fucking hate you! He swallowed the words that would only incite more pain.
Clay’s eyes squinted, then widened. The grip in his hair abruptly eased and Triton found himself pulled into the man’s arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Hot breath rushed over his skin when Clay’s face buried against his neck. Triton shuddered, standing stiffly, locking his knees to keep from sinking to the floor.
“It’s hard here without you,” Clay said, his voice muffled.
Triton shook and his mouth couldn’t even form words.
“What’s for dinner? I’m fucking starved,” Auto said in an ugly tone from the doorway.
“Get cooking, Tri.” Clay turned his head and caught his mouth in a sloppy kiss that made his stomach queasy.
“Yeah, get cooking,” Auto snorted and left the room.
Triton stepped away and turned to the sink, clutching at the cracked porcelain.
After a moment, Clay left the room.
Triton let the tears fall and shuffled toward the refrigerator, feeling like an old man.
When the food was ready, he called from the hallway and went into the bedroom and closed the door.
Taking a quick shower, he crawled into bed and huddled beneath the covers, staring at the wide open closet door. Shear exhaustion forced his eyes closed, but he still couldn’t sleep.
Much later, the bed shifted and Clay crawled in beside him.
“When do you go?” Clay pulled him into his arms.
Triton tried to relax, but every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for the next blow. “Tomorrow.”
Clay stiffened and then huffed, “Three days, Triton. I mean it.”
He nodded, laying there and waiting until Clay’s snores filled the room. Inching out of the man’s arms, he huddled on the far edge of the bed.
Tears wet his pillow from his silent crying.
He’d go to the ranch for three days. A break was what he needed. It would give him a chance to plan and make sure he was perfect. If he was perfect, it would solve everything, and things would be different when he returned.
It had to be.
He couldn’t survive much more.
Diesel
He gulped the tail end of what he suspected was a snore and groggily opened his eyes.
Rolling to his side, he blinked several times. Across from his bed sat a small sofa. Like many of the bedrooms at the Triple R, each one was designed for guests.
On that small sofa sat Triton, curled up, golden hair gleaming in the soft morning light. In the slender man’s lap was a small black kitten playing with a string.
Last time he’d seen Triton, the boy’d had brown curls, now they were blond. Brighter than a dirty blond, they were bleached, but it only enhanced the young man’s gorgeous features. Light blue jeans torn at the knees showed skin poking through. A baggy t-shirt hung on his frame and if Diesel wasn’t mistaken, it was one of his.
He grunted, bringing those blue eyes on him. For a whole year, he’d tried to forget that summer sky color.
His cock twitched.
Okay, this had to stop. He wasn’t some randy teenager who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He was a guy who had goals and plans. He even had a plan for retirement for fuck’s sake. He was a seasoned adult looking at forty in a couple years.
Not to mention, those blue eyes were filled with shadows. Haunting shadows that made Diesel’s gut sour.
“Oh!” Pink lips rounded in an O and the young thing set the kitten on the floor and then jumped up on bare feet.
He had to admit, having Triton wait on him did cut down on trying to hobble back to the room with a plate of food. “Your physical therapist is coming at ten. I thought you might want to have breakfast before he gets here.”
Slender fingers constantly moved, fixing things on the dresser, rubbing down his pants, fingering his shirt.
“Is that my shirt?” Come to think of it, he’d seen Triton in the same jeans since he’d gotten there.
“Yeah.” Triton stumbled over the word, fear in his eyes. “I have to do
laundry. I didn’t bring enough to wear. I can wash it and put it away.”
“Triton.”
“Yes?” Teeth worried the boy’s bottom lip and trembling fingers pulled at the t-shirt’s long sleeves.
‘It’s okay.”
Relief welled in Triton’s face and his hands twisted together.
Diesel scooted over, gritted his teeth, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Frank is making a full country breakfast with eggs, potatoes, bacon, pancakes, and fresh orange juice.” Triton rushed closer and dropped to his knees at Diesel’s feet, making his cock twitch again. He glared at his traitorous pajama-covered dick.
“I remember I hurt my ankle once and it took forever to mend,” Triton whispered.
That got his attention. “How’d you hurt your ankle?”
Triton wore the same terrified expression as the one he’d held in the abandoned mine. A mine he’d rescued the boy from when Triton had been used for leverage in a drug deal. Of course, he and Infinity had shut that fucking shit down, but trauma had a tendency to linger.
“It was nothing.” Triton shook his head and lifted each foot and tucked on his slippers as if he’d been doing it for years instead of days.
For the past three days, Triton had flitted around his room, dodging the ranch hands and staff’s attempts at conversation, fear flashing in his pretty eyes.
“I need to make a phone call,” he rasped. “Can you give me some privacy?” His tone could have been a hell of a lot nicer.
“Oh.” Triton’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then that damned fear appeared again. The boy scrambled back so fast, his ass hit the ground and pain lanced through his eyes.
“Triton.”
Triton scrambled upright, plucked up the tiny kitten near his foot, and cuddled it close as he rushed from the room.
The boy had been abused and it showed. Not that he could tell by appearances because Triton kept his body covered up, but it showed in the harried and desperate mannerisms.
Diesel sighed and ran a hand over his head. He was worried about the level of stress Triton appeared under, but he gave a sigh of relief when the boy left the room.
He tossed the pillow—which he’d grabbed and used to shield his crotch with—on the other side of the bed. That was all Triton needed, to see his hard-on every time he came near. His dick was out of control, and that was a fucking problem. He needed to get his other head in the game. Getting mobile was a priority and he’d do well to remember that.
Even if the military was no longer an option—and he didn’t know if it was or not—he had a home in Oregon to get back to. A place where he’d created a peaceful life after last year’s fucked up complications.
Diesel yanked out his cell phone. He took a deep, slow breath and released it. His cousin was expecting him home tomorrow and he needed to stop procrastinating and call to make arrangements.
“Diesel?” His cousin’s husband answered the phone on the first ring.
“Hey, David. I got a bit messed up on a mission.”
“I heard! Mike told me. How are you doing?”
“It’s slow. I won’t be home for a few more weeks. Think you can continue taking care of Molly and Cedar?”
“Um, yeah… okay,” David said a bit reluctantly and then launched into a detailed description of the baby and what little Jake was up to at the age of one year old. Something akin to envy curled in his stomach.
“Thanks. I know adding on two weeks will be a month, but I’ll pay you,” he said, cutting into David’s rambling.
“Look, Diesel, I don’t want money. I don’t mind taking care of Molly and Cedar, but with how much you’re away, you really shouldn’t own any pets. It’s not right.”
“Give me that! Boy, you’re itching for a spanking,” Diesel heard Mike snap in the background.
Diesel settled back on the bed with a smirk and waited.
There was a brief struggle and then his cousin came on the phone. “Sorry, Diesel, David has no filter. We’ll be happy to keep Molly for as long as you need. You take care of yourself and get better, I’ll look after everything here.”
“I’m sorry, Diesel!” he heard David shout in the background.
“Okay,” he said to Mike, feeling guilty. “Thanks, I’ll call when I’m on my way home.”
Just before he hung up, he heard Mike say to David, “Are you serious? My cousin fucking fights for our country and you want to take away his fucking dog?”
He hung up before he could hear anymore and tipped his head back against the pillows.
It would take months of recovery before he could go back to active duty. He grimaced and rubbed at his thigh. If he made the cut. And, his reenlistment was coming up. Elijah had called him about his papers. They usually reenlisted around the same time. Elijah had put in for another two years. Diesel wasn’t sure if he had two more years to give.
“I want your decision at least ninety days before you reenlist. Or are you going to age out?” Elijah asked.
“Yeah, I remember.” He ignored the not so gentle reminder that he’d turned thirty-eight this year and would need another waiver signed.
“You do want to come back, don’t you?”
He sighed and tugged the blankets up over his legs.
He hadn’t been able to answer Elijah because he didn’t fucking know if he wanted to reenlist. The Army had been his life for so long, he’d forgotten there was a whole other life waiting for him in the civilian world. With the amount of years he had in the military, he could retire out and nobody would bat an eye.
Only, he wasn’t sure what the hell he wanted to do.
Diesel
His stomach woke him up.
It was late and he was starving. The small sofa was empty, minus Triton. He’d scared the boy away and it would take hours, if not the whole day, to get him to come back around.
He rolled to his side, reaching for his phone to call River. Maddox was on deployment, but Diesel wanted information now. He wanted facts about Triton’s current boyfriend or ex, he still wasn’t clear on that.
“What do you know about Triton’s boyfriend, this Clay Martin guy?” he asked River when he answered the phone.
“Clay Martin, he’s a bounty hunter.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how much education and dedication it takes for that?”
“Yes, I do. It’s extensive. Clay’s dad was a bounty hunter who worked out of Austin. When Clay started going down the wrong path, his dad, Sam, a friend of my grandfather’s, put Clay through the bounty hunter school. The guy tested high; he’s smart, but he’s a mean son of a bitch.”
“Ex-military?”
“No, but his older brother, Auto, is. Auto was dishonorably discharged from the Marines.”
“Auto?”
“Yeah. He’s been in and out of prison on drug and assault charges. My guess is since their father passed away, nobody is around to keep them in line. Auto’s been living with Clay for the past few years.”
Triton had been subjected to both those assholes?
“Well, fuck.”
“My guess is that Clay and Auto are trying to pick up some of the action since Damon Sued’s death. Clay and Auto’s uncle is a county sheriff, but he can only do so much. From the people I’ve spoken to, Clay and Auto and the group they hang with are nasty pieces of work. Even the bounty hunters don’t have much to do with Clay anymore. Listen, D, Clay and his brother aren’t to be taken lightly,” River continued.
“I’ll fucking take him lightly,” he snarled.
“I’m serious, Diesel.”
“So am I. I’ll take him down if he lays his hands on Triton. I’ll end him before he can take one more fucking breath.”
“Has Triton admitted to anything?” River sounded worried.
“I see signs of what I think is abuse.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“I haven’t had a chance to ask him, I’m just trying to get a feel for what I�
��m dealing with.”
He had a pretty good idea, though. Clay was taking advantage of Triton. He knew the type. Natural born bullies with no regard for others. Clay taking advantage of Triton’s natural submissive tendencies and eagerness to please made Diesel see fucking red.
Over the past few days, Triton had been overly nice, overly talkative, and overly eager to please. Overly apologetic, and just about overly everything. It wasn’t right and was a damn sure sign that Triton was dealing with something traumatic, even if he didn’t realize it.
“Tell him he’s supposed to be resting.” Maddox’s voice traveled through the phone.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” River chided him.
“I thought Maddox was deployed.” He frowned.
“He got in last night.”
“Put him on.”
“Hey, Diesel. What’s up?”
“Do you have weapons here?”
“Yeah, I do. Have Bull show you where. Trouble?”
“Not yet, but I’m not taking anything for granted.”
“Good idea.”
“Let me talk to him again!” River called out.
“Tell him I’ll check in later.”
Diesel hung up before answering anymore questions. River wanted to talk about his feelings for Triton. The guy got it all in his head that there was something between him and Triton the day they’d rescued them from the mine.
There wasn’t.
Diesel was just protecting a buddy’s family. That was all he had been doing, nothing to get all excited about. Nothing at fucking all.
A soft rap sounded on his door.
“Come in.”
“Dinner’s ready. You slept the day away.”
Surprise kept him mute for a moment when Triton stood in bare feet, hands tucked into jean pockets, teeth biting at his lips in the doorway.
The boy had come around much sooner than he’d anticipated.
Having slept the day away irritated him, and he was fucking hungry, but he tried not to take it out on Triton.
Triton looked worried and hesitant.
“What’s the matter?”
“I have to leave today.” Triton’s voice was soft, fearful.
Bringing It Home (Code Of Honor Book 3) Page 3
