Severe Side Winds Ahead

by Kendel Duncan

  Tiny sighed as he looked out the window, “I wish I could find that someday.”

  Logan frowned at that comment, “Has dating been hard for you?”

  Tiny glanced over at Logan, “I had to stay hidden when I was in the club.”

  “The motorcycle club?”

  “Yeah. I saw what happened to Dagger when he was outed by his sister. I knew there was no way that I could come out as gay. So, all I ever had were a few discrete hookups here and there.”

  “But what about after you got out?”

  “I don’t really know how to approach a gay man to date him. I’m kind of out of my element here. Jaz promised to help me but we haven’t had a chance to all go out yet.”

  “Maybe we could all go to Sanity one night.”

  “Sanity?”

  “That’s the local sex club that I’m a resident Dom at.”

  “You? What do you do there?”

  “I’m a whip expert.”

  “Jesus. I don’t know about that.”

  “You don’t have to participate in the scenes, Tiny. We can just go there, have some fun and meet some people.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Tiny said with a sigh as Logan turned onto the long, two lane country road that lead to the compound where Drake, Hunter, Brent, JD, Billy and Ben lived and where a dozen other homes dotted the hundred-acre property where the Black Ops team lived, trained and worked.

  Logan had judged this man wrong twice and he vowed then and there to not only not do that again but to try to learn his story and put a smile on this gentle giant’s face.

  Chapter Four

  Blake Thornton pulled open the door to Last Call at precisely five o’clock. The moment the door closed behind him, shutting out the light from outside and letting the bartender see who was standing in the doorway, the man nodded at Blake, reached under the bar, pulled up a shot glass and set it on the bar. Then he turned around, climbed the ladder to grab the green bottle of Connemara Irish Whiskey that he stocked just for Blake and he poured the forty-dollar shot just as the man walked up to the bar.

  “Evening, Blake,” he said with a nod.

  “Tyler,” Blake said as he tipped his chin to the man. Blake took a seat on the stool and turned sideways to scan the dark interior of the establishment.

  This place had a long reputation for being a discrete place for in-the-closet gay men to meet other in-the-closet gay men for quick hook ups or whatever else they might be looking for.

  Blake had heard about this place almost two years ago and he had been coming in fairly regularly ever since. But he had yet to partake in any…..activities.

  So far, he was still an observer.

  He’d come in, order his expensive shot. Let it sit on the bar while he observed everyone around him for a while – sometimes only a few minutes, sometimes a few hours – and then he’d pay and leave, his whiskey still untouched as he walked out the door. He was fairly certain that Tyler was drinking his shot when he left and that was fine with him, at least it wasn’t going to waste.

  But there was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that when he finally did drink that shot, that was the moment that he had decided to let go of his control…..and fucking live.

  Problem was he just didn’t know how to fucking do that.

  Suddenly he felt the heat of two bodies on either side of him and he frowned because, what the fuck? There were open seats all over the place, why did they have to sit there? And then he glanced at each of the two men and, holy fuck, they were both hot as fucking hell. Blake’s eyes locked onto the bar in front of him as he warred with his body to keep it from fleeing. Blake Thornton didn’t run away from any situation but, fucking hell, these two men sitting next to him were lighting up his body just by their proximity alone and it was wreaking havoc with his flight or fight triggers.

  “You should drink it,” one of the men said and his voice was deep and smooth and Blake’s cock, the fucking traitor, jumped in his slacks.

  “I don’t recall asking you what I should and shouldn’t do,” he snapped back without turning his head.

  “How much money do you throw away every week on these untouched shots, Thornton, a hundred bucks, two?” the other man said and his voice was just as fucking sexy as the other man’s.

  “What the fuck? How do you know my name?” he said as his head whipped from side to side, finally making eye contact with the men.

  “How about we grab a booth and talk?” one of them said.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” Blake said as stood up, pulled out his wallet and dropped his money onto the bar.

  “You don’t have to live like this anymore, Blake. We can help you,” the other one said and that was when Blake finally locked his eyes with the man and his eyes, Jesus, his eyes told Blake that he was telling the truth but that could only mean….

  “Holy fuck,” he mumbled as his ass sank back down to the stool. “Who, who are you?” he whispered.

  “Everything okay, Thornton?” Blake heard Tyler say behind him.

  Blake’s eyes stayed locked with the man in front of him for the longest time and then he finally tore them away, looked at Tyler, said, “I fucking hope so,” then he picked up his shot and downed it, trying like hell to ignore the shocked look on his bartender’s face as he set the empty glass back down.

  He stood up without saying a word and walked over to an empty booth in the corner, not needing to look behind him to see if the two men were following him both because he knew they would and because he could feel them.

  He slid into one side and they both slid onto the other bench, across from him.

  “So, what, you two are a thing and you like to bring in a third? ‘Cause I can tell you right now that shit ain’t happening with me,” he said.

  The two men looked at each other and smiled, “No, I’m married,” the blonde man said.

  “And I’m engaged,” the other one said.

  “To women?” Blake said.

  The two men laughed, “Nope,” they both said at once.

  So, they were gay. But he still didn’t know what this was.

  “My name is Brent Preston-Whitman,” the blonde finally said.

  “And I’m Drake Malone.”

  Blake’s jaw dropped as he stared at Drake. Everyone knew who Drake Malone was, at least everyone who was in his line of work, “You, you, you’re Drake Malone?” he whispered.

  Drake dipped his chin, “I am.”

  “But, but what do you, what could you possibly want with me?” Blake whispered as he stared at the two men.

  That was the moment that Brent knew that they had found another good man for their team. Another lost soul who needed to find an anchor, a place where his feet felt stable. That’s what their team was – a group of lost souls who somehow managed to ground each other when nobody else could.

  “We want to give you a home, Thornton. A place to not only work but to live and to be who you’re supposed to be,” he said as he looked into Blake’s eyes.

  “And what if I don’t know who that is?” Blake said.

  Drake smiled at him, “The guys on the team are all really good listeners, Blake, and good friends. If you let them, maybe they can help you figure that out.”

  Blake looked out into the dark barroom, “I have a job, though.”

  “But are you happy with it?” Brent said.

  “Who’s happy with their job?” Blake said with a sigh.

  “We are,” Brent and Drake both said at the same time.

  Blake’s eyes snapped back to stare at both of their smiling faces and he could literally see the truth in their words and damn if that didn’t make him feel a yearning in his heart for….something….that he’d never had before in his life.

  What exactly that something was though…that was the million-dollar question that Blake was still trying to figure out.

  But suddenly the answer to it seemed to be hovering….maybe even somewhere within his reach, and that was something new
.

  “So, you really want me for your team?”

  Brent nodded his head, “Yep,” he said with a grin.

  “Why?”

  “Here’s the thing, Thornton. You need to learn how to trust us. We know what we’re doing, we know what’s best for this team, we know who will best fit this team and we know what works.”

  “And you think I’ll fit?”

  Brent shook his head, “No,” he said and Blake’s heart began pounding in his chest until Brent added, “We don’t think you will, we know you will, Blake.”

  Blake almost sighed out loud in relief when he heard that. What the fuck? I mean, he seriously had only known these men for about thirty minutes and yet, and yet……..

  “Okay,” he mumbled.

  Brent’s hand slapped down on the table as he grinned, “Excellent! How about a round to celebrate, on me? Barkeep? Three shots of whatever Blake had before, yeah?”

  Blake’s head snapped up, “Um, you might want to change that.”

  Brent frowned at him, “What? Why?”

  One corner of Blake’s mouth twitched as he smirked, “’Cause that shit is forty dollars a shot.”

  Brent’s mouth fell open, “What the fuck is it?”

  “Connemara, the best Irish Whiskey there is, in my opinion.”

  Brent set his phone on the table, scrolled through his contacts and pressed one. He stared at Blake as the phone on the other end rang twice.

  “Aye, Whitman,” a man with a soft Irish brogue said when he answered.

  “Connemara, is it any good, Mac?”

  The man growled into the phone, “Aye, that shite will get your dick hard the second it hits your tongue.”

  Brent smiled, “Nice, thanks Mac, gotta go,” he said then he ended the call. He lifted his ass off the seat, pulled out his wallet and slid a one-hundred-dollar bill out along with a twenty and a ten. He waved them at the bartender as he said to Blake, “Time to see if your balls are as big as your mouth,” Brent said with a grin as the bartender set down the three glasses, poured them, and then with a nod and, “Gentlemen,” he pocketed the cash and walked away.

  Blake snorted, “My balls are a lot bigger than my mouth, I can assure you of that,” he said as he reached over to slide his shot into this hand. Just as he tilted it into his mouth though, he almost choked it back out his nose when Brent said, “As long as they fit in my mouth, it’s all good.”

  “What?” he managed to say after it felt like he had hacked up a lung.

  “Ignore Brent. He’s a perpetual flirt but he’s hopelessly devoted to his husband,” Drake said.

  “Spoilsport. Damn, this shit is smooth,” Brent said as he downed his shot.

  Blake stared at the two men as he set his empty glass down on the table, “So, how does this work? Do I fill out an application or what?”

  Drake grinned at him, “You just did.”

  Blake snorted out a laugh, “You two are….different. I’ll give you that. So, what happens now?”

  “I’ll go through proper channels, put in a request for a temporary assignment for you, we’ll give you a case and see how you do and if you get along with the rest of the team.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Then I make that reassignment permanent.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You go back to what you were doing like nothing happened.”

  “Has anyone ever left your team?”

  Brent’s grin was wicked as he said, “Not yet, but some of them are still trying.”

  “So, what happens now?” Blake said as his eyes blinked while he stared at the two of them.

  “Now? We give you the address of our place. You come out, meet all of the guys and we give you your first assignment.”

  “That fast?”

  “Trial by fire, my friend, trial by fire,” Brent said with a grin.

  They exchanged cell phone numbers and then Drake texted the address of their headquarters to Blake. Then he stepped out to make a call, apparently to get the paperwork started for Blake’s transfer.

  “We’re a good fit, Thornton,” Brent said, bringing Blake’s eyes away from the door, where he had been staring after Drake had disappeared through it. His eyes fell onto Brent’s as he whispered, “Yeah, but am I? I haven’t fit anywhere in a long time, Whitman. Hell, I don’t know if I’ve ever fit anywhere.”

  A smile lifted one corner of Brent’s mouth, “And that’s why you’re perfect for this team, Blake. We’re a blend of misfits, completely different and all totally unique but we work, Thornton, we work better than any team I’ve ever been a part of. We’re not just a team, we’re family, we’re brothers, we’d bleed for each other, hell, we have, many times.”

  Blake smiled at that. He’d always longed to be a part of something like that but he was never able to let his guard down enough to the men around him to feel like he was a part of anything. Maybe he just wasn’t wired that way.

  “You’re wrong, Thornton,” Brent’s voice said, snapping his thoughts out of their dark depths.

  “What, are you a mind reader?” he said.

  “No, but I know guys like you. Hell, I’ve been you and you’re wrong. You can be a part of something bigger, something better.”

  “But how?” Blake whispered.

  Brent reached out and clasped his hand over Blake’s forearm, “Let us show you. All you need to do is show up.”

  “It really is that easy?”

  “It can be, if you let it.”

  When Blake headed out to his car thirty minutes later, those words were bouncing around in his head as he dropped down inside and plugged in the Black Ops address.

  Maybe this really was his shot to fit in somewhere…..all he had to do was fucking try.

  Chapter Five

  Cole stifled another yawn as he listened to the presentation. He hated this shit, he hated people invading his space, taking away his time. Time that he could be spending doing what he wanted to do.

  His eyes darted to the far side of the room, to the locked door of his personal office, behind which was his separate server hooked up to his array of two desktops, two laptops and eight display screens. And, that was right now running three search algorithms that he had written last night, trying to pick up any flash, any trail, any indication that Kelly Miller, no, he was Kelly Braddock now and Cole had to get used to that, searching for any indication that Kelly Braddock had taken Cole’s bait and was looking for him.

  He wouldn’t find him, of course. Cole Gillette no longer existed, he had made sure of that over twelve years ago.

  But that didn’t mean Kelly wouldn’t look.

  And when he did, Cole would be waiting.

  He would be waiting and he would end this thing between them once and for all…permanently.

  “What do you think, Mister Lette?” the nasally voice said from the head of the table, pulling him from his thoughts.

  Cole blinked a few times, “Uh, yeah, looks fine, let’s role with it,” he said as he glanced down at the folder in his hand.

  “Really?” his CFO Bryan said and clearly from the man’s tone, Cole, or Gil as he was known as to everyone in this room, had missed the boat on this one. Oh well, what’s a couple of mil in his multi-billion-dollar empire? They could turn it around in a few months, sell off this mistake at a small loss and that would be that, problem solved.

  “Write it up and send me the contract. But only a six-month license period. Not the three years you’ve asked for,” he said.

  The man’s face fell, “Six months?”

  “Take it or leave it, Mister,” he looked down at his paperwork, “Ashley.”

  “The man ran his hands through his hair, “Yeah, okay, I’ll make the change,” he mumbled.

  Cole’s eyes raked over the man. In another life, Cole might’ve found him attractive, maybe even hot. But Cole didn’t allow himself those luxuries. Not since Kelly had abandoned him and his life had been shattered.

  Cole’s
eyes squeezed shut as he forced that unwelcome memory out his head.

  When he opened them again, he found Bryan staring at him questioningly. And everyone else was filing out of the room.

  “What?”

  “You have a quick second?” Bryan said.

  Cole sighed. He really wanted to get back to his computers to see how his search was going.

  “Yeah, what’s up,” he said.

  Bryan looked down at his tablet, typed a few things then spun it around on the table, “It’s about this thirty-five- thousand-dollar expenditure last week to a Donner Diamond,” his eyes came up and pinned Cole’s.

  And Cole had to force himself to not cringe.

  He hadn’t meant to pay that from the business account. How had he screwed that up?

  “Um,” he mumbled.

  “I looked him up, Gil. He’s a private investigator. Is there a reason the firm would need to hire a private investigator?”

  Cole whipped out his cell phone, brought up his bank app and logged in, “Sorry, no. I, uh, meant to pay that out of my account,” he said as he transferred the money, “There, the money is back in the corporate account,” he said as his eyes met Bryan’s.

  Bryan stared at him for a few minutes, “Everything okay, Gil?”

  Cole looked away, “Don’t Bryan,” he mumbled.

  “Why not? I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

  Cole’s eyes snapped back to Bryan, “Yeah? Well, we’re not,” he said as he pushed up out of his seat, “See yourself out, please,” he said as he walked out of the room.

  Yeah, he was an asshole, he knew that. But there was nothing he could do about that. The only way to change it would be to let Bryan into his heart. That was impossible for two reasons.

  One, it would mean letting Bryan know about his past and that was not happening.

  And two, he had no heart. Not anymore. Not after Kelly Miller crushed it in his fist when he walked away and then, just for good measure, those other assholes stomped what was left of it beneath their boots when they destroyed his body.

  He punched in the code to unlock his office door a little too hard because he was strung way too tight but he couldn’t do anything about that right now.