by Avril Ashton
“You threaten my husband, you son of a bitch? My son?” Donovan held Dutch by the throat and shoved the blade into his side.
“Van!” Levi rushed at them. Blood was everywhere and Dutch was still, expression pale and calm, as if he’d accepted this. Expected it. “No. Van, stop.”
But Donovan was too caught up in his shit to hear Levi. Or maybe he heard him, but decided to ignore Levi’s cries.
“Bet you thought your ass was bullet proof, huh, Hunter? I bet you thought you could get away with playing God, you and my father.” Van leaned down, putting his face close to Dutch’s. Close enough that their noses touched. “Fuck you, Dutch. You better fucking die. Swear to God, you don’t want to be alive for what I’ve got planned for your ass.”
Levi grabbed his husband by the shoulder, but Donovan twisted away. “Van, please.” Fuck, it was his turn to beg. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”
Van’s head shot up. Blood was splattered on the front of his t-shirt. His eyes were wild, nostrils flared wide. “But you are.” He was shaking too, Levi felt the tremors. “Izek is worth it.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Levi pleaded. “Please.”
“He hurt us. He hurt you.” Van’s chin quivered. “He’s a fucking monster, Levi.”
“Yes.” Levi nodded. “But you can’t be like him. Don’t be like him.” He held out a shaking hand. “Give me the knife.”
Van turned back to Dutch, who made a low pained sound. The fingers clutching at his wound were covered in blood and twitching. Bastard or not, Dutch needed help. Levi couldn’t have him bleeding out on the Goddamn condo floor. He took a deep breath.
“Van.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he put enough power behind it that Van stiffened. “Give me the knife. Now.”
Van didn’t give Levi the knife. Instead of handing it over, he let it fall from his hand to the floor. Levi kicked the blade aside then pushed Donovan off Dutch.
“Let me help him. Van, let me help him.”
Van stumbled upright, and Levi knelt beside Dutch, putting his hand over the bloodied wound. Dutch jerked, and blood seeped onto Levi’s fingers, thick and warm and ugh…
He grimaced.
“It’s okay.” Fuck, it wasn’t, but he repeated the phrase anyway. “It’s okay.” He kept pressing on the wound, but Dutch got paler, making those mournful sounds. “Fuck. Fuck.” Levi tore off his t-shirt, pressing it to the wound as he glared up at Donovan. “Help me, damn it.”
“He pimped you out, and you want me to save his life.” Van towered over him, looking drunk, high, and fucking insane. All of it rolled into one volatile man with a gun in his waistband.
“He can’t die, Donovan. I can’t have this shit on my conscience.” He had way too much there already. “Help me.” He turned his attention to Dutch whose eyes were open and on him, kinda confused as though he couldn’t believe Levi was helping him.
“I don’t have a conscience.” Van dropped next to Levi on the floor. One swipe with the butt of his gun and he knocked Dutch out cold. “That’s why I work for him.” He shouldered Levi out of the way and tore the bloodied t-shirt in half before wrapping it tightly around the wound.
Levi sat back, bloodied hands hanging loosely in front of him as he watched Donovan. This cold man was who he’d never truly gotten to see seven years ago. This man who had no qualms about stabbing a man to death mere feet from Levi was the man Levi was supposed to love and live with forever.
Grief choked him as he watched Donovan bandage up the unconscious Dutch with a detachment that still managed to frighten him.
“Where’s your phone?”
He blinked at Donovan who met his eyes with an unflinching gaze.
“Give me your phone.”
Levi got the device from his pocket with trembling fingers, leaving bloodied fingerprints behind. He tossed it to Van who scrolled through it then put the phone on speaker as he dialed a number. Levi just…couldn’t find the words as his gaze hopped from Donovan to Dutch and back.
“Somebody better be fucking dying,” Mateo Oliveros barked through the phone.
“This is Donovan Cintron.”
Mateo grunted. “Fuck, Fed. Better be a damn good reason you’re cock-blocking me.”
Donovan’s gaze flicked over Levi then turned away. “We’ve got a situation at the condo.”
“The fuck did you do?”
“Levi is fine.” Donovan’s calm tone scared the shit out of Levi. It was as though he’d checked out. “Dutch isn’t. You’re gonna need someone to stitch him up.” He spoke so nonchalantly, it fucked Levi’s head up. But this was what Donovan did, wasn’t it? He did this every day.
Par for the course for him.
For Levi, not so much. He wanted to curl into a ball and close his eyes to block out the sight of all that blood.
“Shit. Why didn’t you lead with that?” Mateo asked. Clothes rustled, and another voice murmured in the background. “Sorry, T,” Mateo spoke to someone on his end. Likely his husband. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Levi pursed his lips and stood. The blood on his hands was starting to dry, and the sensation was unsettling to say the least. As he made his way to the kitchen, he heard Mateo tell Van, “Okay. I’ve got two of my guys upstairs to you now…”
Levi blocked everything else out as he stood over the sink, scalding hot water burning his flesh as he scrubbed and scrubbed. He lost track of how long he stood there, trying to get Dutch’s blood off his skin, out from under his fingernails. His vision blurred.
His fault. The unconscious man bleeding out in the next room was his fault. Donovan never had to know. The knowledge wouldn’t have helped solve anything, but he’d been selfish sharing it anyway. He’d wanted Donovan to know how bad the domino effect had been. The ripples his deceit created in Levi’s life, big and small.
He’d been blackmailed into Pablo’s bed as a direct result of what Donovan had done, but it hadn’t been all that bad. Would it have made things better or worse if he’d told Donovan he’d enjoyed his time with Pablo, that he’d looked forward to it? That Pablo’s presence in his life and in his bed kept thoughts of Donovan at bay and drove away the loneliness?
How much bloodier would things have gotten if Levi had shared that other than Donovan, Juan Pablo Castillo was the best fuck he’d ever had?
“Levi.”
He stared at his hands still under the running water, bright pink and tender.
“Levi.”
Someone grabbed him, spun him around. He blinked up at Donovan.
“Are you okay?” He looked concerned, sounded it, too. But Levi pushed him away, both hands on his chest.
He didn’t know. Levi had no freaking clue. He ducked past Van and went out into the living room area. Two strange men were helping a wobbly Dutch to his feet.
A heavy sigh left him. Dutch was okay. At least that was one thing off his conscience.
The men held on to Dutch, guiding him to the door, but he glanced over his shoulder and shook them off when he met Levi’s gaze.
“Thank you for helping me,” Dutch said softly.
Levi shrugged. “Your death isn’t something I want on my conscience,” he said. “But my husband is right. You deserved what you got. And more. What you’ve done...” He swallowed. “You’re a monster and you need to pay.”
Dutch grinned, and the gesture transformed his face into a mocking smirk. “True enough, but not today.” He limped away, a hand over the wound, flanked by Mateo’s men. Right before he turned the corner and disappeared, Dutch stopped. “By the way, did you tell your husband I only asked you for one night in Castillo’s bed? Did you share with him the fact that you loved being there so much you became his paid lover for well over a year?”
From the corner of his eye, Levi watched Donovan flinch as he absorbed Dutch’s hateful words.
“No?” Dutch winked. “Didn’t think so.” He left
Levi stood there in the silence, Donovan just a couple fee
t away. Fuck. He turned toward the other man, their eyes met, and Levi inhaled sharply.
Pure devastation in Donovan’s gaze, on his pale features.
“Donovan.” He stepped toward his husband, held out a hand. He didn’t even know why. Or for what.
“You called me your husband.” Donovan moved backward.
“Because you are.”
But Donovan shook his head. “But I’m not, not really. Otherwise you would have reached out to me, instead of letting me think you were dead. That my family was gone. You would have let me in. You would have forgiven me, loved me again.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You chose differently.” He scrubbed a hand, stained red with blood over his face. “I came here to fight for us,” he said softly. “But who exactly am I fighting?” He strode to the door.
“Don’t go.” Levi rushed to him. “Donovan, please. I’m sorry.”
“I asked you to love me again, or set me free, but I…” Hand on the doorknob, Donovan didn’t look back when he said, “Maybe we both just need to be set free.” He yanked the door open and stepped through, before Levi’s brain could catch up to what the hell was happening.
He sank onto the couch, head in his hands. The defeat in Donovan’s eyes, in his voice kept on steady replay, bouncing around in his skull. Unlike the last time when he’d been the one to leave, Levi’s husband had walked out, and a feeling of complete despair rocked him.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the drying blood on the floor where Dutch had been.
“Yo. Yo. Yo.”
He didn’t look up when he heard Mateo’s voice.
“Levi?”
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jumped to his feet.
“Woah.” Mateo threw his hands up and stepped back. A man was with him, younger, long black hair shaved on one side of his head, pale skin and wide eyes as he watched Levi. “What’s going on?” Mateo asked.
“He left.” Levi sat back down. “He left, and I don’t think he’s coming back.” Oh, my God. That hurt to say. To think.
“Nah, he’ll be back.” Mateo didn’t even ask who Levi was referring to. “He loves you.”
Gaze sliding over to Mateo’s husband, Levi shook his head. “I told him Dutch blackmailed me into Pablo’s bed.”
Mateo lifted an eyebrow. “That why Dutch is all stabbed up?” When Levi nodded, Mateo whistled. “Nice. Kinda jealous I wasn’t the one to make Dutch bleed.”
“Yeah, well. Dutch retaliated by telling him I was only supposed to do it for one night.” Licking his lips, Levi glanced away. “Donovan knows I was Pablo’s whore.”
“Hey, stop. You weren’t a whore.” Mateo narrowed his eyes. “Does he know the entire thing or just the highlights?”
Levi shrugged. “There wasn’t time to explain.”
“Jesus, Levi. You make time.” Mateo sat next to him on the couch while Tommy remained standing. “If you want your relationship back, you make fucking time and you tell that man the truth.” Gaze on his husband, Mateo said, “Trust me when I tell you you’ll be sorry as fuck if you don’t.”
Something hot and shadowed flickered in the depths of Tommy’s eyes, and Mateo nostrils flared as the corners of his mouth kicked up into a grin. They communicated like that, Mateo and his husband, until Levi cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Um…” Mateo shifted his attention back to Levi. “So tell me again why I had to climb off Tommy’s dick and come here. It better be good, too. Tommy’s stroke game is the truth.”
Tommy blushed.
Levi tried to focus, telling Mateo everything that happened. “I need to find him,” he told Mateo. “Help me find him.”
“I’ll do my best, but I mean, your man’s kinda good at disappearing.” Mateo walked to the door, Tommy on his heels. “The guys are still around, watching you. I’ll call you when I know where your man’s at.”
When he was once again alone, Levi dialed a number on his phone. It rang once then that chill-inducing voice answered.
“What is wrong?”
Levi rubbed his nape. “What makes you think something is wrong?”
“My men tell me the agent has been hurt. By your hand?”
“No.” Levi chuckled without the humor. “That was Donovan. He found out what I did with Juan Pablo Castillo.” He swallowed painfully. “This time he was the one to walk away.”
“And you are not happy?” The voice was curious.
“I am…lost,” he admitted. “He has my soul.” Uttering those words did nothing to alleviate the pain in his chest. Mateo was right, he should have told Donovan everything. Told him how empty he was without his husband.
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know.” He climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“You must know. You must decide. The time has come.”
He knew that. Decisions needed to be made. Running was over. One way or the other, he had choices to make. “I know.”
“I must go, but I am a call away.”
“Thank you,” Levi whispered, but the call had already been disconnected.
In the bedroom, he dropped onto the bed on his back staring up at the ceiling. He called Izek, spoke to his son without telling Izek Donovan was back or what had transpired. The kid didn’t need to know all that shit over the phone. Done checking in with Izek, Levi placed the phone next to him on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the scenes from the last hour from his mind.
I don’t have a conscience.
That wasn’t true. He saw the devastation in Van’s eyes every time he gazed at Levi. His husband remained haunted by what he’d done to Levi. Levi didn’t know what to do, but he wanted Donovan to come back so they could talk. So Levi could explain that he stayed with Juan Pablo Castillo to get out from under Dutch’s thumb. To explain that being Juan Pablo Castillo’s lover meant Dutch and Mark Dulles couldn’t touch Levi or Izek, because Pablo protected them.
He went to sleep and when he woke hours later, the day was almost fucking over, and Donovan hadn’t returned. No word from Mateo either.
Worry gnawed away at Levi as he made himself a sandwich and sat out on the balcony watching the sun set over Coney Island. The condo felt extra empty, sounded extra silent. Donovan’s presence was gone, and fuck, Levi wanted it back.
The phone call came at almost ten o’clock, yanking him from the nap he’d grabbed on the couch. “Mateo.”
“Found your man.”
Levi lurched upright. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
Mateo snorted, but didn’t answer. “I’ll have someone bring him—”
“No.” Levi jumped to his feet, patting his pockets for the keys. “Tell me where he is.”
“Uh. No. You don’t want to do that, trust me.”
Levi paused in pulling on his jacket. “What does that mean? What do you know?”
“Levi.” Mateo blew out a breath in his ear. “Let me handle it.”
There was definitely something going down Mateo didn’t want Levi to witness, but he wasn’t about to back off. Not now. He’d done enough of that the past seven years. “Tell me where he is. Is he okay?”
“Fuck.” Mateo cursed low and long. “Remember you asked for this so don’t shoot the messenger, yeah? Brownstone at the corner of Crown and Nostrand,” he spoke in a rush. “Give them my name at the door.”
Before he could ask why he needed to give a name at the door, Mateo was gone, leaving Levi glaring at the phone. What the hell was that about? He shrugged and locked the door behind him before taking the elevator to the ground level. He didn’t have to ask or look around to know that as soon as he pulled off in his car, one of Pablo’s men would be right behind him. He was both comforted and weirded out by that knowledge.
The GPS on his phone guided him to his destination, and he squeezed into a tight parking space across the street before making his way to the nondescript brownstone. There was nobody around, no indications anyone was even in the house, but something slowe
d his steps anyway. There had to be a reason Mateo hadn’t wanted him to come here. What would he find?
He pressed the bell after taking a deep breath, and the red door was opened almost immediately by a tall, skinny man with salt and pepper hair.
“Yes?”
Levi stared at the man before he remembered what Mateo told him. “Uh. Mateo sent me.”
“Of course, Sir. I’m Sal…” He stepped back and waved Levi inside. After closing the door behind them, Sal continued talking as he led Levi into the main area of deceptively spacious house.
People were everywhere, and immediately Levi was overcome by the sounds. The smell. Of sex.
And the sight of Donovan, pressed up against a wall on the far end of the room, bracketed on either side by a man and woman. The guy was kissing Donovan’s neck while the woman whispered in his ear, her hand stuffed down the front of Donovan’s jeans.
Chapter Eleven
Just because it wasn’t working didn’t mean Van didn’t want it to. He’d come to the club in Crown Heights for a reason, and it hadn’t changed. The couple with their hands on him, they were open for whatever. The woman more than willing to watch her man fuck Van.
He’d come for this, a stranger to give him what Levi wasn’t able to anymore.
The soft fingers gripping his cock got him hard, sure. A stiff wind would do that, too. The warm tongue delving into his ear made him shudder, but his gut roiled any way. He closed his eyes to block out their faces, intent on losing himself and banish his need for his husband. He’d grabbed a few of those sample-sized bottles of lube and condoms placed in large bowls around the room as party favors. He came to be fucked.
Except it didn’t work out like that. He compared the man’s—Anton, he said his name was—rough handling to Levi’s. Which was fucked up, but his brain didn’t care. They were eager, the couple. Hot and freaky as fuck. Maybe a month ago he’d be all gung-ho to be in the middle of that sandwich, but fuck…
They weren’t doing it for him.
A harsh, frustrated sound left him, and he bucked into Sylvie’s hand before opening his eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
