Dagen had been five. It felt strange sometimes that there was such a gap between them, and he didn’t like to think about how Niko was younger than his baby brother. “Dad caught me kissing Roc.”
“Woah, seriously?” Harbor shot to his feet, looking remarkably sober. “You do not need to apologize for that. You were fifteen. Of course you were going to kiss your boyfriend.”
“He wasn’t the only one kissing a boy in the house that day,” Magnus tossed out. “It could have just as easily been Rory and me he walked in on.”
“Logically, I know that, but I still feel responsible.” He looked at Harbor, and then Dagen. “Especially to you two. Yes, he turned out to be an asshole, but he was still your dad and you barely remember him.”
Dagen climbed to his feet and stepped until he was close enough to put his hand on Vidar’s shoulder. “You know what I remember? My big brother always being there for me. I’ve known I was gay since kindergarten, Vi. The only thing that man would have given me was a feeling of inadequacy and a lifetime of mental and possibly physical scarring. Please don’t apologize for being who you were, who you are. We love you just like this.”
Magnus smiled. “Yeah, we do.”
“Ah hell,” Harbor said, throwing an arm over Vidar’s and Dagen’s shoulders, then looking at Magnus. “Come on, get in here.”
They all chuckled for a moment, leaning in until the tops of their heads pressed together like they were in a huddle.
“I love you guys, too,” Vidar said, as the hug broke up.
Harbor squeezed his shoulder, face serious. “We know, brother.”
Vidar nodded.
“Now,” Harbor said. “I believe there are some sexy ass men waiting out there for us.”
“Oh,” Dagen suddenly said. “Before we go, there’s something I wanted to talk to you guys about, too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Roc settled back with his elbows on the bar. Vidar had been gone for a while, which was perfectly fine. Roc hoped that the conversation he’d wanted to have with his brothers turned out okay. Vidar had been carrying that guilt around long enough.
Niko had to go back to dancing just after Vi had gone to the back, and Roc, while he’d maintained conversation with Clark, couldn’t take his eyes off him. A green jockstrap had replaced the little booty shorts Niko had on, and watching his pert little ass jiggle around was doing serious damage to his concentration.
“We got lucky with the Spurgeon girl, you know,” Clark said from beside him, sipping on his second beer. Roc was having a club soda with lime. He’d spent too many of his younger years imbibing a little too freely, so unless it was a glass of wine with dinner, he very rarely indulged.
“We really did,” he agreed.
“We’ve had a rash of young people go missing right off the streets. Kids like Tabitha, just gone. Someone’s gotta be grabbing them, but hell if we can get a lead on who.”
Luca moved on the other side of the bar, picking up Clark’s empty glass.
“Thanks, Luca,” Clark said, giving Roc’s shy friend a little smile.
“You’re welcome,” Luca replied, then moved off to put the dirty drinkware in the sink. Clark watched him for a moment, and Roc tried not to smile too hard.
“You don’t have any leads at all?”
Clark sighed. “Nothing concrete. There’s rumor of a new gang, a motorcycle club, moving in that uses kids for all kinds of heinous stuff, but that they’re real careful they only snatch kids who’ve hit eighteen. I’m guessing they make sure they’re legally adults, then fucking brainwash them into believing they’re somehow saving them by getting them off the streets.”
“That’s bullshit,” Roc said, even as gears started to turn in his head. Luca had been taken by a motorcycle club exactly like that, and with the help of the Iron Heretics, they’d broken up that chapter in a swift raid the night they took Luca back. What if the members that were left standing relocated? Moved a couple states over and set up shop again? Something niggled at the back of his mind. Some detail he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He needed to look back through his notes.
“What? You look like you’re thinking awful hard.”
Roc spun on his barstool so he was facing back toward the bar. “That night, when we got Tabitha back, there were these guys harassing her and her girlfriend outside the blacklight party.” Roc shrugged. “Just makes me wonder if that’s all it was or if they were looking to kidnap them.”
Clark’s face morphed from relaxed guy in a bar to cop in an instant. “I’ll see if I can get some plainclothes support to keep an eye out at those things.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“How did you find out she was going to be there, anyway?”
“It’s amazing how much you can learn about kids’ weekend plans hanging out in the mall’s food court. They talk about freaking everything, so I tailed some of her friends and weeded out the details I needed between all the fashion advice and boy drama that I definitely didn’t.”
Clark laughed, patting Roc on the back. “That’s fucking brilliant.”
“You pawing my man, Clarky?”
Roc smiled at Vidar’s voice right behind him and leaned back, knowing Vi’s muscled chest would be there to catch him.
“Nope,” Clark said, saluting Vi with his beer. “Just a friendly pat on the back.”
“Hey, babe,” Roc said, turning his head so he could see Vi’s face. “You see our boy on your way over here?”
“Yes, I did. All these bastards ogling him are lucky they still have eyes.”
Roc hummed. “He is sexy, though.”
“So sexy,” Vi agreed, kissing the side of Roc’s neck. “So are you.”
“Sweet talker.”
“Come on.” Vi nudged him off the barstool. “Let’s go get a closer look. Clark, it was good to see you.”
“You too, Vi,” Clark responded. “Roc, I’ll keep you updated if I come across anything relevant.”
“Thanks, Clark.” Roc slipped his hand into Vidar’s and let himself be led onto the dance floor and up closer to where Niko was dancing on one side of the main stage. Vi pulled him around so they were face to face, and chest to chest and placed his hands on Roc’s hips.
“You guys talking about a case?”
Roc threaded his arms around Vidar’s waist, tucking his hands into the back pockets of Vi’s jeans. He massaged the firm muscle under his palms, making a growl rumble low in Vi’s chest and his eyes go heavy lidded. “Yeah,” Roc said, leaning in. “And I don’t want to talk about work anymore.”
Their lips met in a slow push and pull, building an all-consuming fire between them. Vidar scraped his teeth across Roc’s bottom lip, making him gasp and letting Vi slip his tongue inside. Roc couldn’t remember kissing ever being this good. Definitely not when they were teenagers, and not any of the men he’d kissed in the times between. Vi and Niko were in a league of their own.
He felt himself start to harden and Vi hummed, slipping a leg between his thighs and rocking forward. The friction was just this side of too much and had Roc pulling back, panting.
“You are not making me come in my jeans,” he said, squeezing Vi’s ass.
“Is that a challenge?”
There was a flash of something wild in Vidar’s eyes that Roc hadn’t seen since they were boys.
“Vi,” Roc barely got the word past his lips when Vi was turning them so he had a perfect view of the stage over Vidar’s shoulder. His eyes locked on Niko, who was barely dancing, eyes riveted to them in the writhing crowd.
With a yank to his hips, Vi pulled him even closer, settling his thigh harder against Roc’s aching cock. Then he started to move. Fluid rolls of his hips that pressed and rubbed right where Roc needed him most. “Fuck, Vi,” he panted, hands scrambling up and clutching the back of Vidar’s sweater, his shoulders, anything he could squeeze to keep him from shattering into a million pieces right there on the dance floor. Through it all Niko held his gaze, d
ark eyes glittering with lust. Niko licked his lips and squatted low, pulsing his hips to the music and the same rhythm Vidar was using to drive him to the brink at breakneck speed.
Vidar’s mouth never stopped uttering encouragement into the sweaty skin of his neck, sucking and kissing until he knew he’d have a bruise. He felt his eyes start to roll just as his orgasm crested, and Niko bit his lip, like it was him about to come all over himself. Roc lost it. He clamped down on Vi’s shoulder, burying his teeth into the pretty blue sweater Vi was wearing while he shot cum all over the inside of his briefs. Slowing his movements, Vi rubbed his back and kissed him softly, as the last of his aftershocks faded. He released the sweater and rested his forehead on the place he’d just bit.
“Holy shit,” he practically whimpered.
Vidar hummed, looking smug as fuck.
“Asshole.”
“Let’s get our boy and go home.”
“Wait, Vi.” Roc pulled him back when he started to turn. “Did everything go okay with your brothers?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s get our boy and go home. I need a shower.”
Vidar laughed as he pulled him toward the stage.
He didn’t know why he was nervous. Maybe because he’d never brought anyone back here before. And the two men following him into the dim interior of his house weren’t just anyone. He was pretty sure they were his someones.
“There’s a bathroom first door on the right if you need it,” Vidar said as he dropped his keys onto the bar that divided his kitchen from the living room. Roc moved down the hall and disappeared inside.
“I didn’t realize you lived so close to Stella,” Niko said, sliding onto one of the barstools opposite where Vi was standing.
The proximity to his mom was one of the reasons he’d bought this house. The gorgeous backyard, privacy fence, and inground pool were among the others. He was two houses down on the opposite side of the street from his mom’s house. If she ever needed him, he didn’t want to have to race across town to get to her.
“I wanted to be close in case she needed me.”
Niko gave him a soft smile. “You’re a good man, you know that?”
Vidar swallowed down the emotion building in his chest.
“Babe?” Roc’s voice made him and Niko turn.
Roc was standing in the mouth of the hallway, completely naked, a washcloth in one hand and a little black furball winding around his legs.
“Oh, you met Judo.” When Vidar said her name, Judo abandoned Roc and raced into the kitchen, hitching up on her back legs and pawing at Vidar’s pants. He reached down, picking her up and cuddling her to his chest. “Hey, baby girl,” he cooed, scratching behind her ears.
“Oh my god, she’s so cute!” Niko was up off his stool and coming around the bar. He held out his hand to let Judo sniff him and rub her face all over his hand.
“I guess you’re both approved.”
“I didn’t know you had a cat. Is she the only one?”
“Yeah, I found her half-dead last spring out in the backyard. She’d somehow crawled under my fence. Vet didn’t think she’d make it, but here we are.”
“She’s adorable,” Niko said, running his fingers through Judo’s coat.
“She is pretty cute.” Roc had joined them in the kitchen, leaning one naked hip against the bar. “Now, since you’re responsible for the ruin of my underwear, want to help a boyfriend out and find him something to sleep in?”
“Sure, after we shower.” Vi grinned, leading the way to his master suite and the huge, tiled shower he couldn’t wait to press them both up against the sides of.
Chapter Fourteen
"Good morning, Mr. Proffitt," Vidar said into the speaker of his phone. He'd only just settled at his desk in the tattoo shop when Kayla had rung back to tell him he had a call on line one. He'd sighed to himself, thinking that a call first thing Monday morning usually wasn’t a good sign. After taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver only to find Daniel Proffitt, MMAPRO president, on the other end of the line.
"I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me, Vidar, first thing in the morning like this." Mr. Proffitt’s voice had a touch of southern twang, and Vidar wondered for the first time where the man was originally from.
"No problem, Mr. Proffitt. What can I do for you?"
"Please, call me Daniel. And I have a proposition for you."
"I'm listening," Vidar said, thinking Mr. Proffitt had a new opportunity for his gym, Rourke MMA, or perhaps even for Harbor. Although, if it was for Harbor, he wasn't sure why Mr. Proffitt didn't call him directly.
"I want you to come back and fight in the MMAPRO," Mr. Proffitt said. "Now, before you say anything, let me tell you what I'm offering. As much as I'd love to have you back as a full-time fighter on our roster, I know that has never been what you wanted. But I've got a fighter, he's coming in from a smaller, foreign league, undefeated. I've been trying to get him to the MMAPRO for the last couple of years."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Well, the thing is, he says the only way he'll come fight for me is if his first fight in our cage is against you."
Vidar was confused. He couldn't imagine why anyone would present a stipulation like that to the owner of the most successful MMA fight organization on the planet. Especially to fight him. He'd only had one professional fight to his name. He’d won that fight, but that was a long time ago, and when people heard the name Rourke these days, it wasn't to celebrate Vidar's victory. It was because they were fans of Harbor or it was about the gym’s success. Vidar couldn’t be prouder about that. "Who's the fighter?"
“He calls himself Ronan Drake. I'm not sure what you've done to him, son, but he’s sure got a hankering to be locked inside a cage with you."
Silence filled the line between them as the words Daniel had spoken twisted themselves around when Vidar tried to make sense of them. Ronan Drake. He’d hoped to never hear that name again.
“Listen, Vidar, I know this is sudden and it’s been quite a few years since you’ve competed professionally, but I’d appreciate it if you’d consider it. I can send over the contract, let you read it through, and we can go from there.”
His gut twisted. Why the fuck was Ronan Drake coming back into his life? Why now? He wanted to say no. Hang up the phone and forget about this conversation. They’d both been punk kids the last time he’d seen Drake. The bad choices he’d made in those years always made him feel like a fucking fraud. Like all the good things, the legitimate things, he’d done since those days when his family was barely scraping by were always just right under his skin, waiting for someone to make him bleed them out all over the floor. He’d never told anyone, anyone, about the illegal fights. How he’d been recruited when he wasn’t old enough to vote. The dirty basement under some old diner. How he’d broken Ronan Drake’s arm to win a purse that let his mom put a few Christmas presents under the tree one year. The shame he’d felt at lying to her about how he’d gotten that money—about how all the bruises and cuts were from training in the gym—was a white hot splash coating the insides of his belly.
He sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw. He’d done what he’d done, and there was no changing it now. He’d put food on their table and helped keep a roof over their heads. At the end of the day, that was what he had to focus on. Proffitt said that Drake was undefeated in some other MMA league. The fact that Proffitt had been trying to sign Drake for a while and his only stipulation was that his first fight be against Vidar spoke volumes—looked like Drake was ready for his revenge.
Niko flopped over onto his side and looked at the bedside clock. The red numbers told him it was almost midnight, and even though he was tired from a day at the tattoo shop, he couldn't help that his bed felt so empty after having Roc and Vidar sleep beside him the last few nights. Throwing off the covers, he got up and grabbed his phone, thumbing to the messages he and Roc had shared that day.
The la
st message was from an hour ago, so he knew Roc would be there soon, but he was still antsy. Heading to the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and stood in front of the sink watching the clouds roll over the moon. He noticed Vidar's truck was still in the lot. After the weekend they'd spent together, Niko had hoped Vidar would be a little less distant. It certainly seemed like they'd broken through their barriers, but today, he couldn't deny there had been a coldness to Vidar he’d hoped to never see again, at least not directed at him and Roc.
He finished his water and decided he didn't want to assume anything—he wanted answers from the source. Luca was asleep, so he quietly went through the door that led into the tattoo shop and took the stairs down. Expecting to find Vidar in his office, he was surprised to see the shop was dark, except for the small lamp they left burning in the lounge. He could see through the glass door into the gym that some of the overhead lights had been turned out, but the back corner, where the fight cage stood, was still brightly lit.
Niko pushed open the door and walked inside. Vidar was moving around the cage, sweat coating his tan skin as he shadowboxed the air, dancing around on the balls of his feet like there was an opponent in front of him. Moving slowly, Niko watched the play of muscles in Vidar's back and arms and how the thick muscles of his thighs bunched with every lunge. He was truly beautiful. As he moved around the cage, Niko caught sight of Vidar's face and his expression stopped him cold. Vidar looked dangerous and lost in his own head, and Niko knew that whatever battle he was fighting in the cage, was likely more against himself than some imaginary adversary.
When Vidar caught sight of him, he stuttered to a stop and dropped his hands, standing in the middle of the cage with his chest heaving for breath. Niko didn't know what he could do to help, but he knew that he wanted to, so he climbed the steps onto the platform surrounding the cage and opened the door. In all of the training he’d done with Rory, they'd never once sparred inside the cage. He'd never stepped foot in it. It always seemed like it was somehow beyond his reach, another level, and the level of intensity that happened inside its walls was something he wasn't sure he ever wanted to endure.
Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 44
