by Amy Lane
These people weren’t really criminals; they were more “people with a specific skill set”—and an agenda driven by Robin Hood himself.
And hey—that guy had hidden in the forest for years, right?
So Hunter was willing to play with them for as long as they wanted to play. He had money socked away for a lifetime, but people like this, who liked his company, who would stand together through thick and thin?
He wanted that. Who didn’t want that for themselves? He was going to seize it while it was there.
And of course there was Grace.
Grace, who was nine years his junior but so much a part of his life and his heart that Hunter wasn’t sure letting go was an option. He remembered a cat he’d had once as a kid. They’d fed it, and it had stayed in the barn and caught mice, but one night, in the rain, it had followed Hunter into the kitchen.
Every night after that, it had followed Hunter or one of his brothers or his father into the kitchen and would invariably end up on the foot of Hunter’s bed.
Hunter had loved that cat, had nursed her through her old age, had mourned her when she passed, but never, in all that time, had his parents admitted they had a cat. Hunter had given her a name—Maribel—but other than that, they’d simply called the poor old thing “Cat.”
Grace was simply Grace. Perhaps in the future they would get married. Perhaps Grace would finish school and become something else entirely than the dancer/thief he was so good at being now. All Hunter knew was that he’d petted Grace and shown him kindness, and Grace had chosen Hunter, and it was very possible he would continue to choose Hunter as long as they both lived.
Anybody not looking would assume Grace was too fickle for that sort of loyalty, but Hunter had seen Grace be a loyal friend and—whether he knew it or not—a loyal adopted son and a loyal little brother.
Hunter had peace in his heart that as long as he remembered what a fantastic creature Grace was, Grace would continue to be the man in Hunter’s bed.
They’d use the word “boyfriends” for now. Hunter was prepared to be boyfriends for the rest of his life.
“Ooh!”
The prince on stage executed a tricky move that ended in him hoisting Tabitha up over his head as she posed, both of them moving with synchrony and joy.
“You like?” Hunter murmured as the music continued to swell.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Grace said, as awed as a little kid.
Hunter looked at him, his throat swelling and his eyes stinging a little. He’d seen Grace do things three times that spectacular—including giving that asshole Creighton a concussion when he broke his own toe. But all that mattered to Grace was that the dance was sublime, and even in the audience, he got to be a part of it.
“It’s stunning,” he said.
Grace smiled at him then, shyly, and leaned his head on Hunter’s shoulder as they continued to watch the rest.
Their hands were twined the whole time.
“TOO BAD nobody else could make it,” Grace said as they walked back from the theater. In spite of his limp—and the plexiglass walking cast that he’d slid on over his sock and under his soft-soled dress shoe—he’d found a planter on the edge of the river and was balancing on it. Hunter was just as glad it wasn’t the guard rail over the river itself.
“They want to see you,” Hunter told him mildly. Danny had given everybody’s tickets to a charity foundation that catered to college students. The seats had been full, but with the exception of him and Grace, everybody else had stayed home.
“Josh is sick,” Grace said, pausing his walk and hopping down to regard Hunter with sober eyes.
“He is.” Josh had slept most of the day and eaten almost nothing. They all knew that the next six weeks were going to suck—Josh said it himself a million times. But that didn’t stop the lot of them from worrying about the young man who had brought them all together and taught them how much fun they could have as a group. “Are you going to be able to deal with that?”
Grace’s breath caught, and he chewed his lip. “Last year at this time,” he said slowly, “I would have said no. I would have assumed you’d find me dead in a shooting gallery about a week after he went.”
Hunter’s heart turned to ice, and all his blood congealed.
“And now?” he rasped.
“Now, I’m more than the boy who’d do that,” Grace said simply. He turned and bumped Hunter’s shoulder, his hands in the pockets of his slacks as a defense against the wind off the lake. Even early summer in Chicago could be chilly, and Grace’s shoulders hunched as they resumed their stroll down the river toward the El train, which would take them back to Hunter’s flat.
“Yeah?” Hunter knew it came out as a question, but he needed an answer so very badly after that bad moment.
“I didn’t know his parents loved me,” Grace said, thinking about it, his steps almost even. “But Danny got here, and I realized I was as much a part of them as anybody. And I didn’t think a good man—someone normal, even if you’re an assassin—”
“Bodyguard,” Hunter corrected mildly.
“Trained killer,” Grace said, his mouth doing that pursing thing that Hunter found charming and infuriating at once. “Even if you’re a trained killer, you’re normal. You’re almost obsessively normal. It’s terrifying. But you seem to think I’m worth fighting for.”
Hunter couldn’t contain his laugh. “You broke your toe on the bad guy’s head,” he said.
Grace didn’t laugh. “You have zip ties, handcuffs, rope, and some sort of weapon in your leather jacket right now. Don’t lie.” He shivered, and Hunter draped the coat over him before looping his arm over his shoulders.
“I won’t.”
Grace smiled and snuggled into the coat. “I love this,” he said. “I’m so glad you got it cleaned.”
Hunter wondered how long he’d have to wait. “I love seeing you in it,” he said. “So finish your thought. Why aren’t you the same guy anymore?”
“Because I love the people who love me back,” Grace said. “I love you, and vice versa. And that means I can’t just disappear and destroy myself anymore.” He sighed happily. “It means I’m not even tempted.”
“I do love you back,” Hunter whispered, kissing Grace on the temple. Grace accepted the moment before pulling away excitedly.
“Hello!” he said. “What’s this?”
Hunter grinned. “I don’t know, Grace. What is it?”
“It’s your spoon!” Grace crowed. He’d tried to steal it several more times. The last time he’d been at Hunter’s flat, he’d realized it was gone and had been furious until Hunter told him he’d had it taken somewhere to replace a chip in the enamel.
Which had been the only lie Hunter might ever tell him.
“Sort of,” Hunter said dryly.
Grace held what was left of the spoon up to the light. It had been twisted and molded, taking the form of a ring, with the pretty enamel decoration on the back of the ring like a stone. “Is it mine?” he asked, sliding it on and admiring it.
“It is,” Hunter said simply. “You never needed to steal it, Grace. I gave you my heart. You can have my spoon.”
Grace grinned, reached into Hunter’s jacket, and pulled out a pink tactical pen.
Hunter hadn’t packed a pink tactical pen when he’d assembled his jacket’s contents that evening.
“It’s my pen,” he said, looking at the shiny titanium in confusion. He’d known Grace had stolen it—he’d just assumed Grace would keep it forever.
“No,” Grace said. “It’s my pen.” He pulled out his phone and shined the light on an inscription.
“Property of Dylan Li,” Hunter read dutifully, oddly embarrassed. It was damned near roses and an engagement ring from Grace.
Grace grinned happily and slid the pen into the inside pocket of Hunter’s coat. “So it’s close to your heart,” he said.
Hunter laughed softly. “So,” he asked. “Where to now? Back to Glencoe to see
how Josh is doing?”
“Josh is tired of people,” Grace announced, which was probably the truth. “And he’s tired of people checking to make sure he’s not dead. He said he should live, and I’m going to trust him. He hasn’t let me down yet.”
“That’s very wise,” Hunter said. Something complicated had happened the night before, something that involved the handsome, sad young police officer and the handsome, handy young Interpol officer. Hunter was pretty sure Josh was too sick to unravel his love life now, but he imagined it was going to come back and bite him eventually. And speaking of love lives, he had no doubt that Lucius Broadstone and Chuck were going to give them a fine show. Torrance Grayson and Soderburgh had stayed the night in the Glencoe mansion, plotting something or other. Hunter figured the Salingers owed them a few big favors, so whatever adventures they brought to the table, those two would be fun to have around.
And Stirling continued being shy and intense and wholly competent. But Hunter would never forget that the night before, after he’d come out of the van, he and Molly hadn’t left each other’s sides, not even when they’d fallen asleep on the couch, curled together like kittens.
His life—his family—would always run like clockwork. But that didn’t mean those tiny gears, moving, retreating, keeping time and stealing it away, weren’t tremendously complicated.
“So.” Grace gave him a pretty sideways look. “You want to go to your flat and have some banging sex? You could tie me up again. Maybe toys? Do you have a tactical dildo? Inquiring minds want to know.”
Hunter burst out laughing. “I do have toys, yes,” he said. “I don’t have a tactical dildo, but we can buy one if you like.”
“And…?” Grace intimated slyly. “You know you want to say it.”
Hunter chuckled. “I do have a heat-seeking meat missile at my disposal,” he flirted back. “You want to ride that until it goes boom?”
“Yes!” Grace crowed. He leaned into Hunter and—per usual—blew Hunter’s mind. “There’s no happily ever after until we hit dead and know if we were happy until we got dead.”
“I know that,” Hunter said softly.
“But we’re happy now, and I think you and me are going to be happy together for a really long time. And if we keep working on it, we might even make it to happy until dead. I’m okay with that.”
Hunter pulled him tight, his mind already on how good Dylan Li felt in his arms, skin to skin, body open and receptive to his own.
“I’d love to see if we can make it to then,” he said gruffly.
“Think you can kill me with good sex? That way we can make sure.”
Hunter laughed. “Maybe not tonight. Maybe tonight we can practice for the big bang that’s going to take us both out.”
“Yeah,” Grace said. “We have adventures we need to go on before then.” With a sigh, he slid his arm around Hunter’s back, and even though Hunter checked, Grace wasn’t trying to steal his wallet.
His wallet would be fine, though. Hunter had other wallets. Grace had already stolen Hunter’s heart, and then, in a stunning act of generosity, had given his own back in its place.
Hunter thought of telling him that this was no way to be a thief, but he decided to keep mum. As long as Dylan Li loved him, Hunter didn’t care if he was a thief, a dancer, or a clockmaker.
Hunter would always love him back.
Orange
Amy’s Dark Contemporary
A Long Con Adventure
Once upon a time in Rome, Felix Salinger got caught picking his first pocket and Danny Mitchell saved his bacon. The two of them were inseparable… until they weren’t.
Twenty years after that first meeting, Danny returns to Chicago, the city he shared with Felix and their perfect, secret family, to save him again. Felix’s news network—the business that broke them apart—is under fire from an unscrupulous employee pointing the finger at Felix. An official investigation could topple their house of cards. The only way to prove Felix is innocent is to pull off their biggest con yet.
But though Felix still has the gift of grift, his reunion with Danny is bittersweet. Their ten-year separation left holes in their hearts that no amount of stolen property can fill. A green crew of young thieves looks to them for guidance as they negotiate old jewels and new threats to pull off the perfect heist—but the hardest job is proving that love is the only thing of value they’ve ever had.
All That Heaven Will Allow: Book One
When Tucker Henderson inherits Daisy Place, he’s pretty sure it’s not a windfall—everything in his life has come with strings attached. He’s prepared to do his bit to satisfy the supernatural forces in the old house, but he refuses to be all sweetness and light about it.
Angel was sort of hoping for sweetness and light.
Trapped at Daisy Place for over fifty years, Angel hasn’t always been kind to the humans who have helped him in his duty of guiding spirits to the beyond. When Tucker shows up, Angel vows to be more accommodating, but Tucker’s layers of cynicism and apparent selfishness don’t make it easy.
Can Tucker work with a gender-bending, shape-shifting irritant, and can Angel retain his divine intentions when his heart proves all too human?
Hedge Witches Lonely Hearts Club: Book One
When a coven of hedge witches casts a spell for their hearts’ desires, the world turns upside down.
Bartholomew Baker is afraid to hope for his heart’s true desire—the gregarious woodworker who sells his wares next to Bartholomew at the local craft fairs—so he writes the spell for his baking business to thrive and allow him to quit his office job. He’d rather pour his energy into emotionally gratifying pastry! But the magic won’t allow him to lie, even to himself, and the spellcasting has unexpected consequences.
For two years Lachlan has been flirting with Bartholomew, but the shy baker with the beautiful gray eyes runs away whenever their conversation turns personal. He’s about to give up hope… and then Bartholomew rushes into a convention in the midst of a spellcasting disaster of epic proportions.
Suddenly everybody wants a taste of Bartholomew’s baked goods—and Bartholomew himself. Lachlan gladly jumps on for the ride, enduring rioting crowds and supernatural birds for a chance with Bartholomew. Can Bartholomew overcome the shyness that has kept him from giving his heart to Lachlan?
Tenner Gibson has a job he enjoys, a prickly ex-wife, and an adorable daughter he wouldn’t trade for the world. With no romance, no sex life, and no other hobbies, a rec league softball team is as close as he gets to hedonism.
But life throws him a curveball when cocky Ross McTierney sets his sights on getting under Tenner’s skin.
One explosion of lust later, Tenner wonders what possessed him to have a quickie with Ross, and Ross wonders how to do it again.
Tenner has eight weeks to convince his tiny modern family that Ross is what’s best for him. Ross has eight weeks to get used to the idea that complicated doesn’t always mean bad. Their sex life is moving at the speed of light, and everything in their relationship is coming at them too fast….
But together, they might make a connection and knock it out of the park.
A Flophouse Story
One bootstrap act of integrity cost Henry Worrall everything—military career, family, and the secret boyfriend who kept Henry trapped for eleven years. Desperate, Henry shows up on his brother’s doorstep and is offered a place to live and a job as a handyman in a flophouse for young porn stars.
Lance Luna’s past gave him reasons for being in porn, but as he continues his residency at a local hospital, they now feel more like excuses. He’s got the money to move out of the flophouse and live his own life—but who needs privacy when you’re taking care of a bunch of young men who think working penises make them adults?
Lance worries Henry won’t fit in, but Henry’s got a soft spot for lost young men and a way of helping them. Just as Lance and Henry find a rhythm as den mothers, a murder and the ghosts of Henry’s abusive pas
t intrude. Lance knows Henry’s not capable of murder, but is he capable of caring for Lance’s heart?
Readers love Amy Lane
The Mastermind
“…this new series is going to be wonderful… I’m already jonesing for the next.”
—Paranormal Romance Guild
“This is Amy Lane at far more than her best. Her writing has developed an extra dimension which traps you into a story, her characters come alive and grab you.”
—AwesomeDude Community
Award winning author AMY LANE lives in a crumbling crapmansion with a couple of teenagers, a passel of furbabies, and a bemused spouse. She has too damned much yarn, a penchant for action-adventure movies, and a need to know that somewhere in all the pain is a story of Wuv, Twu Wuv, which she continues to believe in to this day! She writes contemporary romance, paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and romantic suspense, teaches the occasional writing class, and likes to pretend her very simple life is as exciting as the lives of the people who live in her head. She’ll also tell you that sacrifices, large and small, are worth the urge to write.
Website: www.greenshill.com
Blog: www.writerslane.blogspot.com
Email: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/amy.lane.167
Twitter: @amymaclane
By Amy Lane
All the Rules of Heaven
An Amy Lane Christmas
