Bang (Hard Hit Book 13)

by Charity Parkerson

  Marshall sat up and eyed the box. He didn’t reach for it. “You bought me a present?”

  Maksim shook the gift at him. “Yes. Open it.”

  After another heartbeat, Marshall finally accepted. He pulled the ribbon loose on top, gingerly unwrapping the present as if not wanting to disturb the paper. When he finally opened the box, Maksim held his breath. Marshall’s expression was everything. The man had never looked more shocked.

  “Holy shit. Is this really Nate Dyer’s championship ring?”

  “Yes,” Maksim said, trying to hold back his smile. He loved making Marshall happy. “He sold it to a pawnshop some years back when he fell on hard times. Since I know he’s your idol, I thought you should have it.”

  “Holy shit,” Marshall repeated while still staring at the open box. “Now I’m scared to give you your gift. You’ve blown me away.”

  Maksim had thought his night couldn’t get better after witnessing Marshall’s reaction. He was wrong. Learning Marshall had gotten him a present too took his breath away. “You got me a gift?”

  Marshall nodded and climbed from the bed. Maksim watched him cross the room with hunger in his gut. After setting the ring on his dresser, Marshall headed for the closet and came out with a gift bag. Marshall handed it over, looking nervous. “It’s not a championship ring.”

  “I don’t care if it’s a tin of popcorn. You thought of me. That means more than you’ll ever know.” Maksim dug through the tissue paper. His fingers closed around something hard. Maksim lifted it from the bag. “It’s a hockey puck.” When he looked closer, he realized it was signed. “Wow. Is that Noah Cote’s signature?”

  Marshall nodded. “I know someone who knows someone.”

  “You must be joking. Noah rarely signs anything. Well, for adults. He signs shit for kids all time. His agent keeps tight tabs on him. This is amazing.”

  “Kieran can be a hard ass, but he’s looking out for his clients’ best interests. Like I said, I have a connection. Now you have another autograph to add to your collection.”

  Maksim stared at the puck, moved. “How did you know Noah was the only Phoenix autograph I was missing?”

  “You mentioned it in passing once.”

  Maksim shook his head. He couldn’t believe how amazing Marshall was. That was such a small thing to remember. Sometimes, Marshall made him feel important. Maksim slipped the puck back into the bag and set the bag on the floor before focusing on Marshall once more. “Thank you. That’s easily the best gift I’ve ever received.”

  Marshall shifted to his knees and crawled toward Maksim, tumbling Maksim onto his back. He covered Maksim’s body with his. “Let’s see if I can improve on that gift while thanking you for mine,” Marshall taunted. He kissed a path down Maksim’s chest. Maksim closed his eyes and let his emotions take over. Soon, he’d be off to Chicago, leaving Marshall behind once more. This time hurt more than the other times he’d left. In fact, it hurt a little worse every time. Maksim feared that one day in the near future, he wouldn’t have the strength to leave again. What would happen then? Marshall would never publicly claim Maksim, and Maksim couldn’t be a secret forever. One day soon, this would have to end. The problem was, Maksim wasn’t so sure he’d survive the loss.

  May...

  Maksim: Can I stop by?

  Marshall: You’re in town?

  Maksim: Yes, and I’d love to come over.

  Marshall: The door’s unlocked.

  Every time Marshall set eyes on Maksim, it was the same. The pressure on his chest, the way his breath caught, and the need to touch him always overwhelmed Marshall. The instant Maksim stepped through the door, Marshall overcame him. Their lips touched without as much as a friendly greeting. They were always immediate passion, burning hot and bright. Once Marshall’s initial burst of possessiveness was assuaged, his kiss lightened, turning sweet. Maksim was really here. Marshall could touch him again. It had only been three days, but it felt closer to a year since the last time he’d seen him.

  “Damn,” Marshall cursed when he came up for air. “I’ve missed that.”

  Maksim stole another kiss before responding. “Me too. What’s it been? A year? A decade?”

  “Close,” Marshall said with a laugh as he backed away, giving Maksim space. “Three days.”

  “You lie,” Maksim said, sounding hot as his feet ate up the distance Marshall put between them. He claimed Marshall’s mouth again. There was nothing sweet about Maksim’s kiss. Marshall had no complaints. With one last nip at Marshall’s bottom lip, Maksim finally set him free. Maksim pressed his hand to Marshall’s chest and took a step back, as if forcing himself away. “I’m here on business.”

  “Business? Have you decided to start charging for your sexual favors?” Marshall asked, laughing. “The first seven months of free tasting is over, huh? How much are you going to cost me now?”

  Maksim’s smile made Marshall’s ridiculousness worthwhile. “It’s nothing like that. If anything, I should be paying you.” Maksim’s expression turned heated once more. “How much do you want? I’d pay any price you asked.”

  It was on the tip of Marshall’s tongue to demand exclusiveness from Maksim as his price. He barely stopped himself from allowing the words to fall. Maksim would never meet that price. Instead, Marshall chose to keep his pride. “We can come up with a mutually beneficial deal later. Now,” he said, clapping once. “What business errand are you on?”

  “Gavin,” Maksim answered like ripping off a bandage. “New York wants him. They have for a while, and they’re getting desperate. With desperation comes generosity and big bonuses.”

  Marshall didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  Maksim didn’t let up. “I’ve already spoken with Gavin on three separate occasions, making him offers, but he won’t bite. I need your help.”

  “No,” Marshall repeated. “Ask me for anything else that doesn’t involve taking my brother away, and it’s yours.”

  “I live in New York, and look at us,” Maksim argued. “It wouldn’t be stealing your brother.”

  Marshall knew Maksim really didn’t want Marshall’s opinion about looking at them. They fucked. Maksim had made that abundantly clear. They weren’t a real relationship. Michael was real. Maksim couldn’t have him. Michael was all Marshall had in the world. “He’s more than a brother. Michael is my twin. That’s something you can’t understand unless you’ve had one. I won’t ask him to move away.”

  Maksim’s shoulders rose and fell as he sucked in a deep breath. His gaze never wavered from Marshall. “Okay. I’m not saying I’m giving up, but I won’t ask for your help with this again. It’s obvious you’re set against it.”

  Now that Marshall had gotten his way, he felt like shit. He knew Maksim was just doing his job, but fuck. It was Michael. “It’s not that I’m against Gavin getting a once-in-a-lifetime deal. I’m against losing the only family I have.”

  Maksim’s open confusion made Marshall realize how little Maksim understood about Marshall’s life. “You have more than Michael.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Michael asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway. He smiled when he spotted Maksim. “Maksim. It’s good to see you.”

  “You as well,” Maksim said, accepting Michael’s hug.

  “I feel like I’m seeing a lot of you lately,” Michael said, as if digging for info.

  “He’s here to try to enlist my help in luring Gavin to New York,” Marshall said without an ounce of guilt for throwing Maksim under the bus. Plus, he was still pissed over the man trying to steal his brother away.

  “I hope you told him to go fuck himself,” Michael said, making Marshall proud. “No offense,” Michael added, flashing Maksim an apologetic smile. “My brother and my job are here in New Orleans. Gavin and I have a life here. That’s why Gavin has already politely declined your offers.”

  Maksim held his hands up, showing his defeat. “Apologies. I’m just handling the tasks assigned to me.”

  For a momen
t, Michael eyed Maksim, as if assessing his earnestness. “It’s okay. Anyhow,” Michael said, switching his attention Marshall’s way. “I’m here to grab that stuff from you. The memorabilia that you need Mara to sign for that charity auction,” he clarified. “Mara plans to sign everything today, and then I’ll bring it back by. She sends her apologies that she hasn’t gotten to it sooner. The boys have kept her hopping.”

  “No problem. It’s downstairs.” Marshall headed for the stairs. Michael followed, but Maksim didn’t budge. Marshall motioned for him to join them. “You coming?”

  Maksim looked unsure of his welcome, but he joined them. Marshall found the box of donations for Michael while Maksim moved to the bookcase and inspected all the pictures lining the shelves.

  “I cannot believe how alike you were,” Maksim said, pointing out a picture of Michael and Marshall from their freshman year in high school.

  Michael carried the box to the stairs. He eyed the framed picture as he passed. “Yep. Those were the days. If we didn’t open our mouths, no one could tell us apart.”

  “Except Gavin,” Marshall tacked on.

  Maksim set the photo down. “I forgot he also grew up with you.”

  Marshall nodded. “We were inseparable when we were kids. Of course, I realize now he only hung around to be near Michael.”

  “I doubt that was the only reason he came around,” Maksim said without looking his way. “Especially if you were as fun back then as you are now.”

  Michael laughed. “Marshall hasn’t grown up much, if that’s what you mean.” Without waiting for a response, Michael focused on Marshall. “I’ll back in a little while.”

  Marshall tossed his brother a wink. “I’ll be here.” Marshall waited until Michael was out of sight and earshot before focusing on Maksim once more. “So you think I haven’t grown,” he said, pushing up his shirt sleeves and flexing.

  Maksim shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Marshall dropped his arms and shrugged. “Probably, but you still keep coming back. So there’s that.”

  “Of course I do,” Maksim said, leaning closer to a different framed photo. “As I said, you’re extremely fun. To fuck,” he added, stabbing Marshall through the heart. He turned away before Maksim saw the hurt in his eyes.

  “Who are these two extremely upstanding-looking people?” Maksim asked, drawing Marshall’s attention to the framed photo on the bookshelf he’d been inspecting.

  Marshall moved to Maksim’s side, but he barely spared the picture a glance. “Those are my parents—Eugene and Helena Frost.”

  Maksim toyed with the frame, peering closer at the image. “They look… proper,” he finally said, as if incapable of finding a better term.

  Marshall bit back a laugh. He’d seen that photo a million times. Marshall knew there wasn’t a speck of fuzz on their thirty-thousand-dollar suits or a hair out of place. They’d smiled on cue and they were smiles they’d paid thousands to keep perfect. In fact, they’d probably practiced in front of the mirror every day. Proper was the most fitting description he’d ever heard of his parents. “There aren’t two more flawless citizens on the planet.”

  “Why do you say that with such disdain?” Maksim asked. He crossed the room and stole a quick kiss before Marshall could answer.

  Marshall shrugged. “They’re closer to being proper citizens of the world than they are to being parents.”

  “You’ve never said anything, and I’m realizing now I haven’t asked. Are they not accepting of Michael and you?”

  A snort escaped Marshall. He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding as derisive as it did, but there was no calling the sound back. “They’d have to see us to be unaccepting of anything. Michael and I are trophy kids.”

  Maksim’s eyebrows drew together. “Trophy kids,” he repeated, as if unfamiliar with the term.

  Sometimes Marshall forgot Maksim wasn’t always familiar with every American euphemism. “Yeah. You know, you get married, move to suburbia, and have two perfect kids. And we were the most perfect kids of all—twins. Our mom didn’t have to do pregnancy twice. She did her duty, got her tubes tied, and went back to work. Michael and I got the best nanny money could buy until we were twelve and proved we were fine alone.”

  “I have a hard time believing your parents don’t love you. You seem too well adjusted for that.”

  Marshall shook his head. “I didn’t say they don’t love us. They absolutely adore pulling out pictures of their perfect family to show their colleagues and potential clients. Growing up, I was the accomplished athlete while Michael was on track to be Ivy league—their future lawyer and business partner. Oh, and then Michael turned out gay. Fucking perfection,” Marshall said, kissing the tips of his fingers for maximum obnoxiousness. “That gave them an in with a whole new community of folks. Look at our gay son; we’ll fight for you too.”

  “So you don’t see them at all?” Maksim looked confused.

  Marshall shrugged. “They send us a card along with a huge check for every major holiday. Michael and I send them an expensive gift via a delivery service on Mother’s day and Father’s day. They get to show everyone their gifts and brag about their attentive and loving sons. We can say we have extremely supportive parents. A win for everyone.”

  “How big of a check are we talking?”

  A sardonic smile tugged at Marshall’s lips. “My parents aren’t the sole supplier of energy to five major cities, like yours, but I could quit playing football right now and live a comfortable life. If I’m not extravagant and buy an R8, that is.” Marshall honestly wasn’t trying to bash Maksim having a family that drowned him in money. It was all the talk of his absentee parents making him obnoxious. Some things bit deep and turned bitter over time.

  “Whoa. I know some lawyers make decent money, but wow.”

  Marshall waved off Maksim’s claim. “Oh, my parents aren’t just any lawyers. They own the law practice of the south. Everyone who is anyone uses Frost & Frost. They’re on track to hold office someday. That’s as long as their sons stay the adept and enduring soldiers they’re paid to be. You know: no murders, drugs, or equally embarrassing incidents on our part. We have to stay who we are.”

  “The gay son and the athlete?”

  “Exactly,” Marshall said, flashing Maksim a bright smile for being the winner of the chicken dinner. “I smile for the cameras. Michael works for the top actress of the day. Oh, and he took home top prize for marrying an openly gay hockey star. We couldn’t be more accomplished if they’d created us from clay, except we’re not flawless, of course.”

  Maksim shook his head, as if he couldn’t fathom the life Marshall described. Marshall didn’t know how else to explain the life he led, and he’d already given Maksim more of himself than he’d given anyone else in his life. Sheesh, it was like the man didn’t realize at all that Marshall loved him.

  Maksim stared at Marshall in awe. He couldn’t believe how blasé the man was about being forced into a box that didn’t suit him. The need to push and force Marshall to feel the rage Maksim felt on his behalf wouldn’t subside. Maksim couldn’t stop wanting Marshall to be real for him. “So, you’re what? Throwing yourself on the straight grenade so Michael can be the gay twin?”

  Marshall’s nose scrunched up in the adorable way that always hit Maksim in the gut. “What? No. Michael is gay because he’s gay. He doesn’t need my permission or help.”

  All the irritation Maksim kept buried bubbled to the surface. “You just said you were trophy children and your parents might run for office—like you each played a role and you were forced into one that doesn’t fit for your parents’ sake.”

  Another ugly-sounding snort escaped Marshall. “I doubt they know anything about me beyond what I do for a living. Worrying over my sexuality is a form of concern. They don’t do concern. And, what does my sexuality have to do with anything? You asked about my parents and I answered.”

  Maksim shook his head. He didn’t understand why
Marshall was so fucking blind. “Then why do you play at being someone you’re not?”

  Marshall’s sweet smile almost made Maksim wish he could let this go. Then Marshall opened his mouth. “For the love of the game, of course. I’ve bled football for as long as I can remember. Why would I ruin a dream so few people have come true for five minutes of some dude’s time, especially for some guy who doesn’t do strings?”

  Maksim chose to ignore Marshall’s air quotes and obvious jab at him. “There are several openly gay hockey players. We’re talking badass men who no one would dare pick a fight with on the street. It’s not been an issue for them. It wouldn’t be an issue for you.”

  An aggravated-sounding growl escaped Marshall. His eyes flashed with irritation. “That’s hockey. Hockey has always prided itself on leading the pack when it comes to inclusion. I don’t play hockey and football isn’t the same. How many openly gay pro-football players do you know?”

  Since this was important to Maksim, he took their conversation seriously and answered honestly. “I can think of three off the top of my head.”

  Marshall nodded. “Out of those three, how many are starting quarterbacks? Scratch that,” Marshall said with a dismissive wave. “How many of those are starting quarterbacks who only have the position because they held down the sidelines as a second string until the starter got put out for the season? In fact, how many of those players are starters of any kind?”

  A sad smile pulled at Maksim‘s lips. With every word Marshall spoke, he knew Marshall would never openly claim him. “I see your point. I guess, I just thought...” Maksim shook his head and didn’t bother finishing. It was pointless.

  Marshall’s entire demeanor changed. His face hardened. “We can’t all be you, Mak. Not everyone has a job that tosses us every semi-sexually confused up-and-coming athlete in the business that we can—literally—blow our way through. The rest of us are just trying to get through life with a little something to be proud of. I didn’t change the rules here. You’re the one who said you didn’t do strings, and you didn’t care who I lied to as long as I didn’t lie to you. I’m not lying to you.”