by J. M. Dabney
"I'm not liking the media blackout. A trial this high-profile should be all over the news, local and national. Especially with a Senator's son involved."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that more than likely, every cop and fed in the city has pictures of us."
"What are we going to do?"
"Unfortunately, I'm going to need to contact West. I thought maybe it was time to find an ally in the media. Juicy story and some reporter will cum in his pants to get it."
"You mean Vernon Cross' fuck boy who can't bend over fast enough for every man who hands him a fifty."
"Josh!"
I flinched at the harshness in his tone. He didn't even sound like that before he liked me. I dropped my chin and wrapped my arms around myself—my lingering fear flaring back to life. Shame filled me as I waited for the hit I expected. The humiliation wasn't for the fear, but for the fleeting relief of something familiar—normal.
And as became his habit, he pinched my chin and forced my gaze to his.
"Most people think I'm a bastard, unfeeling or whatever, but there has been no time since I've known you that I would put my hands on you in anger. But if I have to correct you, I will. This is your one warning. Don't speak about yourself that way again."
He never looked away from me. There wasn't any anger just, I guess, disappointment.
"We all make mistakes. Sometimes we don't know any different, or we need to survive, but we learn and adapt. Do you understand?"
I could only nod, and it seemed to satisfy him. He brushed his mouth across my forehead. His longer beard tickled my nose, and I realized he was looking a bit more like a mountain man than when I first met him.
"I think you need a trim."
"I do. Maybe you can do it for me later."
"Me? No, I'll mess it up."
"It's a beard. It grows back. You can trim it later. I have my clippers in my bag."
"Okay," I agreed but hoped he'd forget about it and do it himself. "What are we doing again?"
"You're going to get all pretty and then we're going to the library to send and check some emails, do some research. We have to pick up a prepaid phone for emergencies only. Then we hit the dive bar down the block to use the payphone in the back to make a quick call. Now finish your sandwich. I'll get you something better for lunch and dinner. Maybe we'll hit the store to find something to keep you occupied."
He leaned forward to put on his socks and boots. I almost offered to help but didn't know if he'd appreciate it. He'd taken care of himself before I came along. I found I liked doing things for him—taking care of him. When this was over, we'd go our separate ways, and I'd have to learn to handle life without him. Maybe I'd go work for Arianna. She was always looking for people to help around the hideouts in the city, transporting the runs who were on their way to disappear. I had some server experience, but nothing else.
I didn't want the same life. I wanted different, but did I have it in me to be someone better? A thought flashed in my head that I wanted to be different for him. Yet, I had to do that for myself. I needed to find the person I was meant to be and not the one borne of necessity.
Thirteen
Yuri
My boy was leaning his rounded ass on my back as I tried to focus on doing the searches I needed. I shook my head because he'd been attached to me in one way or another since we left the motel a few hours earlier. He'd even hooked his fingers in one of my belt loops as we’d walked down the street. I tried not to read too much into it, but I was selfishly pleased I was his comfort item.
I'd barely slept at all last night with him rubbing his slim body all over the top of mine. He also had this obsession with nuzzling my beard. He'd appeared so cute that morning demanding to know what he'd done. Teasing him could become an addiction.
Suddenly I had a delicate chin resting on my shoulder. "What are you searching for?"
"Reporters that make too many waves." I didn't look at him as I continued scrolling. We needed a reporter that was as paranoid as we were. Which I didn't think would be too hard to find. More than anything right now, we needed allies.
"You're not searching the case?"
"No, only because they might be tracking keyword searches. You do know the term Big Brother is Watching?"
"Yeah, grandpa."
I lifted my arm to fist my hand in his soft curls. "Don't get bratty, you won't like how it turns out."
"Y-yes, sir."
His stutter again gave me an odd satisfaction. I really shouldn't find his discomfort around me adorable. I needed to rein myself in. I promised myself not to do anything about my attraction until my boy was safe. That wasn't exactly working for me.
"Can you type with more than two fingers?"
Just what I needed in my life—a huffy, bratty boy. I was about to ask if he could do better but then he was seating himself on my thigh. He handed me his milkshake.
"So, what are we searching for?" he asked.
"Reporters that covered the most scandals in the city. Comfortable?"
"Apparently, I did more in my…sleep."
He darted a glance over his shoulder and batted his pale lashes, and then he went to typing. His slender fingers flying over the keys and I let him work. Maybe he needed something to keep him busy.
"Walter Moffett. Veteran journalist with thirty years of experience being a pain in the butt. There's the second candidate, Ernest Burton, seems a bit shady."
"Shady isn't a bad thing." I had to admit that the shadier a person was, the safer it was to trust. In my experience, people who appeared too good to be true normally were.
"No, but Moffett would probably give more professionalism to the case. He's covered every scandal in the last three decades. Seems he doesn't care who his target is."
I scanned several articles that he clicked through. Moffett was a kindred bastard spirit. "Wait, what's that one? Don't open it." I pointed at the screen and saw an article that outlined the case against Cross, but the one below it caught my attention. The senior Cross had allegedly gotten caught with his dick stuck in a barely legal babysitter. "Do you know anything about this?"
"No. Vernon kept me away from his family. Dirty little secret and all that, but I do know that he wasn't shy about having affairs. According to a conversation I overheard, the old man was usually a lot more careful, and they were bitching about someone going for a payday. Vernon laughed a bit and said that was a check the whore wouldn't be around to cash. I'm going to end up just like her, aren't I?"
His pale, watery gaze turned to me, and I raised my hand to gently pinch his chin. I'd found it was the best way to get his attention without making him cower. My boy was coming out of his shell a bit—if his emerging bratty attitude was any indication. I didn’t want to hinder the development of his true personality.
"You're going to be fine. I promised, didn't I?"
"You're using your Daddy voice on me. That's not fair."
"Daddy voice?"
"The one that says everything is going to be okay. That the monsters aren't real, but we both know that isn't true."
I wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned forward to continuing scrolling through articles. I wasn't in the habit of lying, especially not to myself. Strange thing was, I wanted him to be safe—feel that all was right in the world for a few minutes even if it wasn't the case.
"You're right, but I can't guarantee we won't be running for months."
"I'd prefer it not to be that long."
"Then we're going to have to get to work. This isn't exactly how I wanted to start retirement."
Minutes passed as more research only gave us more questions that needed answers. I used a piece of scrap paper from beside the computer and wrote down the number for us to call from a safer location. We might need to come back here at some point.
I started to worry the longer he didn't speak.
"Yuri?"
"Yes, baby boy?"
"I really like your Daddy voice."
I shook my head as he grabbed his empty cup and wiggled to get off my lap. I let him go when he gave the cutest growl. When I chuckled, he nudged me with his hip and disappeared. As fucked-up as it sounded, my retirement might be turning out more fun than I planned. Well, except for the hitmen, the holes in my shoulder, and questionable no-tell motels. But other than that, it wasn't too bad.
Smoke burned my nose, and my boy coughed beside me as we walked into a strip club several blocks from our current hideout. I'd gone to my storage unit and retrieved one of my suits, but I had taken my boy to get pretty. I'd dug into my emergency cash supply I kept hidden in a safe. Everyone needed an escape plan. Also, he'd been pouty most of the afternoon, and I wanted to spoil him.
I placed my hand on the small of his back and nudged him forward and led him to a booth all the way in the back.
"Get in," I ordered, and he slid in. I followed and tucked him under my arm.
"How long do we have to wait?"
I'd contacted Moffett earlier and told him we had some information on the case, but I hadn't mentioned my boy's name. When I'd told the reporter that I was in law enforcement and on the case, he'd asked where to meet us. The tricky part was the meet. It always was. You had to trust the lure of the information was enough to have them keep the other parties honest.
"He said ten, but we showed up early to check the layout."
I kept my voice calm, and I didn't tell him that I'd recon'd several locations for the meet. This particular club had a broken alarm on the back exit where I'd seen dancers sneak out back for smoke breaks.
"If something goes wrong, I want you to run for the back exit. Take a left in the alley and circle around the block and back to the motel. If I'm not there by morning, take my bag, go to the unit to grab all the cash and call Arianna. Do you understand me?"
The argument in his eyes was clear, but I wouldn't let him disobey. I'd already arranged for her to get him out of the country. My trust in her was tentative at best, but I knew he trusted her completely. I didn't want him to have to run the rest of his life. Yet that didn't mean he wasn't going to need to prepare for that.
A server in a short skirt and a dress shirt knotted just beneath her breasts approached with a tray, and I got us drinks. A top-shelf bourbon for me and a soda for him. Mine was all for show. I waved off the offer of a dance, private or otherwise.
"Why did you turn it down?"
"Not interested. I can call her back if you'd like one."
"No."
I scrubbed my hand over my mouth to hide my grin at his widened eyes. I forced my focus out onto the room. Smoke shifted through rays from neon signs. Music seemed to pulse under my feet and in the booth frame. It was like any other club I'd been in over the years. In my undercover days, I'd worked the door in a place just like this one.
"What are you thinking?"
I started to answer him but paused as the drinks arrived, and the server set them on the small round table. I threw a large bill on her tray. In my distraction, I started drawing circles on his hip and liked when he rested his slight weight against my side.
"I was thinking about the last time I worked security. I'd been undercover for six months. I was hating life. But one of the dancers needed protection as they prepared to take her into protective custody."
"Do you miss your job?"
"Occasionally. You do a job that you were good at for a few decades it takes some…adjustment."
He tucked his face against my neck, and I turned my head to nuzzle his smooth cheek.
"Maybe I should just run, Yuri, maybe you'll be safe then. He just wants me. I can turn myself in. It's not like I haven't been waiting for it to happen."
"Boy, you will do no such thing. I'm telling you now, you'll start thinking about the consequences of your actions when it comes to disobeying me."
He jerked back, and just as he was about to say something, a strange male voice came from my right. I turned to find a tall, slender man about a decade older in a wrinkled dress shirt, loosened tie, and a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.
"Sorenson, and if I'm not mistaken, Josh Clarkson himself. This is more interesting than you made it sound on the phone."
He took a seat on the other side of Josh.
"So what do I owe for the exclusive?"
"An exchange of information. Someone wants us dead, and you want a story that'll keep you on the front page."
"I can find those stories everywhere."
"Not one with the possibility to take you into syndication. Can't be ready to spend the rest of your life covering the same old bullshit year after year."
"Rumor has it, the defense is trying to get the case thrown on account of due process. They can't postpone the trial forever when the star witness pulled a disappearing act. Can't help but wonder if one of those rumors is true."
"And what might that be?"
"Seems he's"—Moffett nodded toward Josh—"ran off with his bodyguard. Replacing Cross with an older model. Sounds like downgrading to me, but boys sometimes have minds of their own. What have you got for me?"
"The entire story, exclusive including anything on all the Cross family that Josh knows and for that, all you have to do is keep us informed on what they're not saying on the news. Also anonymity for Josh. No mention of his name. Don’t want to make him a target a second time when the story runs."
"Exclusive, all the dirty laundry on Senator Cross and his son. Is that a deal you're willing to make, kid?"
I studied his expression, saw him warring with his need for self-preservation and for it all to end. No way in hell this was easy on him. Everything could end, and the thought of him dying sent a cold chill down my spine. It wasn't the first time I'd thought we wouldn't make it out. I had the new scars to prove it.
"Yes, I just want my life back."
"And what life is that? Back to being Cross's toy or—"
I saw the look he sent my way and felt the way my boy tensed. For Josh, I don't think things had changed completely. My boy still had that mindset that he deserved what he got from Cross.
"The or." Josh's voice was so quiet, if my focus hadn't been on him, I wouldn't have seen his mouth form those two little words.
"Then I guess we have a deal."
Fourteen
Josh
The or. What the hell had I been thinking? I cursed myself as I unbuttoned my baby blue dress shirt that conformed to my slender upper body. As I stripped it off, I studied myself in the bathroom mirror and draped the fine linen over the edge of the sink counter. I traced the fading scars that covered my chest and stomach. A few were still sensitive as I stroked the raised edges of tissue. The ones on my face had been superficial but still left pale pink lines on my cheeks and forehead.
"They're healing nicely."
I jerked my eyes to the right in the mirror to find him watching me—an odd expression in his eyes. I wondered what he thought of me. His attitude toward me had shifted, but I still feared he saw me as he had the night I was led into his office. In his opinion, was I still the pain-addict whore that everyone made me out to be? At the club earlier, I'd almost felt—normal. Like a well-adjusted man curled up against my date.
I mentally shook off my thoughts, and my brain started to focus on other things. Yuri’s unbuttoned shirt exposed the thick hair on his chest and stomach, and his tie was hanging loose. To keep from getting caught, I returned to my perusal. My stomach was no longer concave, and my ribs didn't show through my pale skin. My face was filling out, and I didn't look like a skeleton. I knew I had more weight to gain in order to get up to fighting weight as he called it.
"Yeah."
"What's wrong, baby boy?" His grumbly voice was low and soft, yet seemed to fill the room effortlessly.
"Just remembering."
"Remembering what?" he asked, as he entered the bathroom and stood behind me. There were several inches between us, but I could still feel his body heat—his overwhelming presence—and my weak
ness called to me to lean back into his strength.
Something inside me was sick and rotten. I relied on him to keep me safe. He did little things that weren't necessary. Like the espresso, candy, or letting me pick a show on TV. They were stupid things, but men didn't do nice things for me just out of the kindness of their hearts. It always came with a price.
"Talk it out."
Resistance was futile when his hands rested on my hips and he flexed his arms, pulling me back to his larger frame. The slightly coarse chest hair tickled my skin, and my gaze flew to his. Nothing in his expression gave away his thoughts. He was as stoic as I remembered. That emotionless mask made me warier. While I didn't think he'd physically hurt me, emotionally and mentally he could destroy me.
"Do you think I'm the same as I was when West dropped me off?"
"Boy," he growled in my ear. "Did you ask for these?" he asked, as rough fingertips tenderly stroked the scars I had only minutes earlier.
"No."
"Or this?" He cupped my chin, and his thumb moved along the scarred curve of my lower lip.
"N-no." I gasped as he did it again before dropping his hand back to my waist.
"Did you ask to be used so brutally?"
"I don't think I did, but it's what I expected."
"Expectation is a funny thing, baby boy. It can shift and become something different. We're a malleable species. We evolve…change. What we were yesterday isn't always who we are today."
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't normally say what I don't mean. If you've noticed, I'm a bit of an asshole."
I saw my lips quirk up at the corners in the mirror and caught him smiling as well. I felt lighter with him and was terrified that my gratitude molded my emotions into more than they were. Whatever that was, it was headier than agony, infinitely more addictive, and I feared it showed in my eyes.
"You're a bit grumpy." Even as I joked to cover my discomfort, my body involuntarily gave into the yearning to lean back slightly into his strength—his warmth.
