by Brandon Witt
Alex put the boat in neutral, and they sat silently watching the dolphins jumping and twisting. Ridley was mesmerized by their movements and they calmed him. They continued to watch them until they disappeared into the horizon.
“I suddenly no longer have a craving for fish and chips,” Alex drawled. “How about a steak on the grill?”
Ridley nodded, still looking out at the water. “Steak sounds like a damn good idea.”
A SUBDUED calm seemed to settle over them, the feeling continuing when they arrived back at the house. Alex took a quick shower, dressing in nothing but a pair of gym shorts. The skin on his shoulders and back had a red tint and was uncomfortable enough that the thought of having to wear a shirt wasn’t appealing. He wasn’t complaining. Having the chance to spend time in the sun, especially with Ridley, was worth any discomfort. It had been a lazy, comfortable day, something Alex hadn’t experienced in a long time. Always looking over his shoulder, staying on edge kept him alive, so he knew to enjoy these rare days when he could. What really shocked him about it, though, was how quickly he felt completely at ease with another person outside of his family. The only other person he’d ever felt this at ease with was Mick, and even that had taken time.
He could hear Ridley humming in the shower, and Alex smiled as he pulled a couple steaks from the fridge. He set them on the counter, and as he rummaged through the cabinet for spices, he found himself humming along to the same tune. He seasoned the steaks, set them aside to marinate, and headed out to the deck to fire up the grill.
When he walked back in, Ridley was coming out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. He wore a pair of Alex’s blue-and-white Bermuda shorts, a little tight in all the right places. Water droplets ran down the tanned skin of his chest.
“Damn, my clothes look fucking hot on you,” he commented with a sly grin.
Ridley looked down at his shorts and then slowly lifted his gaze to meet Alex’s. Without a word he turned, presented his ass, and wiggled it. “A little tight, don’t you think?”
“Oh yeah,” Alex murmured and landed a hard slap against that tight ass.
“Hey!” Ridley protested, laughing as he spun away before Alex could hit him again. Ridley gripped his damp towel in both hands, threatening Alex with it.
“You snap me with that and I’m going to beat your ass,” Alex warned, pointing a finger at him.
“Not a deterrent,” Ridley snorted and aimed the towel threateningly.
Alex lunged, grabbing the towel with one hand and wrapping the other around Ridley’s body, pulling him hard against himself and pinning Ridley’s arm between their bodies. “That comes later when I have you tied to the bed,” he told him in a seductive tone. Ridley’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned when Alex nipped his chin. “You like that idea, don’t you?” Alex murmured as he licked at Ridley’s bottom lip.
“As crazy as it sounds, yeah I do,” Ridley admitted and opened his mouth, inviting Alex in.
Alex took the invitation and dove in, exploring Ridley’s mouth until they were both breathless when it ended. “I’m going to rock your crazy world later,” Alex promised.
“Later?” Ridley questioned and chased Alex’s lips when he pulled away. “No time like the present, I’ve always said.”
“You’re going to need to eat your protein first,” Alex suggested and released him.
“I like the way you think,” Ridley agreed, dropping the towel and grabbing the waistband on Alex’s shorts, trying to pull them down.
Alex slapped his hand away and chuckled. “Fucking horndog, I was talking about steaks.”
“Mmm, tube steak, my favorite.”
Alex shook his head and once again spun out of Ridley’s grasp. “That was so lame. Just for that, you can make the salad.”
“I thought it was clever as hell.”
“You would,” Alex sniffed. He opened the fridge and started handing Ridley the lettuce and all the fixings.
“And what will you be doing while I’m slaving away?” Ridley asked as he started washing the vegetables.
“I’ll be over here admiring the buns I’ll be sliding my tube steak into later.”
“And you called me lame,” Ridley huffed and then laughed.
“You are,” Alex said teasingly.
Damn, he liked the sound of Ridley’s laugh and the way it caused his belly to flutter pleasantly each time he heard it. Alex still wasn’t sure how he felt about this whole new sensation he was feeling for Ridley, and he refused to give it a name or look at it too deeply. That didn’t stop him from moving up close to the man once again and placing his lips against the warm flesh of Ridley’s shoulder, though.
“You have a nice laugh,” he complimented.
Ridley tilted his head and looked at Alex over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he responded, sounding almost shy.
“You’re welcome. Now get busy on my salad. I’m starving,” he demanded and patted Ridley’s firm little butt. “I’ll get the steaks on.”
Ridley started to open his mouth, but Alex shot him a warning look as he picked up the pan with the steaks. “Don’t even say it.”
The laugh Alex was becoming so fond of followed him out to the deck, and he couldn’t help but smile.
THEY WERE living in a bubble. A happy, no drama, no worries, just the two of them bubble. He and Alex had spent the last few days sunning and fishing and fucking like bunnies as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Of course, it only felt that way—in actuality they had plenty to be concerned by. The threat of death was a hell of a lot to worry about. Ridley often found Alex up at night watching out the windows, and even when Alex seemed to be completely at ease, Ridley had learned to recognize the signs that he wasn’t. The muscles in Alex’s shoulders rarely ever relaxed, and he was constantly assessing the area around him. Still, Ridley found himself completely comfortable when he was with Alex. He was sure it was mainly due to the fact that he trusted Alex implicitly and knew within the walls of their temporary home, their bubble, he was safe. Was he a fool? Perhaps, but he couldn’t help the way he felt nor his ability to block out the world. He was happy.
He almost regretted venturing out, but a man could only go without his own drawers for so long. And even though Alex liked the way Ridley looked in Alex’s one-size too small jeans, Ridley liked pants that gave his junk a little room to move. They’d driven through the great big town of Hackberry, which consisted of a bait-and-tackle store, a gas station, a bar, a church, and little else. He wasn’t into the rubber wader look, which was about all he could find in the way of clothing, so they drove into Lake Charles. Alex bitched once again about the stench of sulfur, but other than that he seemed to be in a good mood as they headed down the roadway, jamming to twangy country music.
“I think we should stop for lunch and enjoy the Cajun flare,” Alex suggested as he turned down the volume on the radio.
“Sounds good to me, but can I suggest we do it after I get some clothes?”
“But I’m hungry,” Alex whined.
“You’re always hungry. And stop your whining, it just doesn’t work for you,” Ridley chastised lightly. For someone as lean as Alex, Ridley was shocked by how much the man could eat and how often. “Plus, I don’t want to try on clothes with a full belly.”
Alex stuck his tongue out at Ridley playfully. “I don’t whine,” Alex said with an obvious whine to his tone. “But I am hungry. And why in the hell do you have to try clothes on? Just grab some shorts, T-shirts, and undies and we’re outta there.”
Ridley dug around in the glove box of the old truck for the goodies he’d stashed just for such an occasion. “Here,” Ridley said and thrust the candy bar at Alex. “Eat up.”
Alex gave Ridley an exasperated look, but he accepted the candy bar, tore the package open, and took a big bite. “You better have another one in there or I’m stopping for lunch first.”
Ridley tossed the other candy bar in Alex’s lap. “You’re so predictable.”
“Only when it comes to my eating habits,” he responded, chewing happily.
“Uh-huh. And I have to try on jeans to make sure they fit right. This new trend of short waists sucks. They crush my nuts.”
“Levi’s 501s, baby. You grab ten pairs, a stack of T-shirts, and a couple packages of socks and undies and, bam, done shopping for a year. Fifteen minutes in the store, tops.”
Ridley gave him an incredulous look.
“What?” Alex grumped.
“You’re so full of shit. Need I remind you of your bow ties, dress shirts, and skinny jeans? All three of which, by the way, are super hot on you,” he added and waggled his brows.
“Don’t get used to them. The clothes, like the hair, were part of the Alex Firestone persona. I’m Alex Richmond now, commercial fisherman from Hicktown, USA. There will be no bow ties or skinny jeans.”
“You’re not cutting your hair,” Ridley said adamantly.
“Watch me.” Alex smirked.
It was the same argument they’d had since arriving in Hackberry. Alex couldn’t wait to cut off what he called his crazy mop, and Ridley begged him not to do it. So far, Alex hadn’t done it, but only because Ridley had distracted him with well-timed blow jobs or other sexual diversions each time he attempted to pull out the clippers. He was going to have to get creative with his ploys if he was going to keep Alex from cutting the curls.
“There’s a strip mall.” Ridley pointed out the window, not commenting on Alex’s warning.
Alex pulled into a parking spot in front of a clothing store and put the truck in park. “Don’t take all day,” he grumbled and pulled his cap down low over his eyes.
“You’re not going in with me?”
Alex shook his head and pulled the gun from the center console and held it against his stomach, keeping it out of sight with his T-shirt. Ridley’s eyes widened in confusion, but Alex wasn’t looking at him, already scanning the parking lot intensely. It was like a switch was flipped and the teasing, fun-loving man was replaced by a serious and tense one.
“I won’t be long,” Ridley promised. He stepped out of the truck and unease skittered along his spine.
Again he was reminded he wasn’t on vacation, but on the run from dangerous individuals who were desperate to eradicate a problem—Alex—who could bring down their entire empire. Ridley was now part of that problem and, as such, needed to be eliminated as well.
Ridley hurried his steps and entered the shop, a blast of cool air from the air conditioner blowing across his sweat-dampened face and causing him to shiver. The bell over the door announced his arrival. From behind the counter a young lady looked up and smiled broadly. “Hi, is there something I can help you find today?” she greeted pleasantly.
Ridley scoped out the store, but relaxed a little when he didn’t see any other customers. “Hi,” he responded, stepping up to the counter. “I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe.”
“Lost a bunch of weight, did ya? Good for you,” she complimented and smiled impossibly wider. “I’ll be happy to help, I’m Chloe.”
Ridley started to say no, then realized it was the perfect excuse. “Thanks, Chloe. I’m going to need socks, shorts, underwear, the works.” He glanced out the window to where Alex was waiting in the truck. “And I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“No problem. Let’s start over here,” she said, curling her finger in a “come with me” gesture as she headed to a display of undergarments.
She turned and faced Ridley, running her gaze down his body, sizing him up. “A thirty-three,” she said with a curt nod. “Boxers or briefs?”
“Yes.”
Chloe tilted her head, a confused look on her face briefly, but then she laughed and grabbed a package from the shelf. “One pack of boxer briefs, black. You don’t seem like the tighty-whitey type.”
“Good call. Better make it two,” he said with a wink.
Chloe, an attractive little redhead in what Ridley guessed was her early twenties, was as flirty as she was helpful. He chuckled at the seductive looks she kept giving him, but only nodded and smiled when she flirted and batted her lashes at him. Thankfully, it took no time at all and she had an entire new wardrobe piled up in Ridley’s arms and was leading him to the register.
“So where are you from?” she asked while ringing up his purchases.
“What? You don’t think I’m from around these parts?” he asked dubiously.
“Not with that accent,” she drawled. “Midwest?”
“Yup, you got me.”
“What brings you to Lake Charles?” Chloe inquired cheerfully.
“Umm….” Ridley quickly checked out the window. Alex was still sitting behind the wheel of the truck. “Just needed a change of scenery,” he said vaguely.
“I don’t know how you Yankees handle the winters up there,” she said with a visible shudder. “I’d just die in all that snow and Oh. My. God. No sun in the winter? No thank you.”
Chloe babbled on about her dislike of the cold, but Ridley was only half paying attention. He couldn’t help but keep looking to Alex, feeling as if he’d already made him wait too long.
Ridley pulled the cash Alex had given him from his wallet, hoping the gesture would make Chloe hurry up. Ridley had tried to refuse it, but Alex had insisted, telling him he’d put it on Uncle Sam’s tab. Ridley relented, but only after Alex reminded him he couldn’t use his bank or credit cards. He wasn’t going to buy a whole lot of clothes with the sixteen dollars he had in his wallet. His need for his own underwear outweighed his dislike of Alex buying them.
“That will be three hundred and twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents.”
Ridley counted out the bills plus an extra twenty and handed it to her. “Thanks for all your help, Chloe.” He grabbed his bags and turned to head out the door.
“If you need anyone to show you around town, just let me know. I work every day but Tuesday and Friday,” she called out to him.
Sorry, not going to happen. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he responded and pushed out the door before she insisted he take her number.
“Took ya long enough,” Alex grumbled as soon as Ridley slid into the truck.
“Not my fault the sales clerk had the hots for me and wanted to keep me in there. Sheesh, I thought I was going to get mauled over a rack of jockstraps.”
“You should have told her you liked to get fucked rather than do the fucking,” Alex remarked crudely as he fired up the truck.
Ridley looked toward the store to see if he could see inside through the large window, but the sun was shining on it, making it impossible for him to see inside. “How do you know it was a she and not a hot guy?”
Alex shot him a smug look without comment before pulling out of the parking space and headed out of the lot.
“Well?” Ridley pressed.
“Her name is Chloe, she talks way too fucking much, hates the cold, and offered to be your guide around town.”
Ridley gaped at Alex.
“How’d I do?” he asked smugly.
“How the hell did you know that?” Ridley squeaked. “You couldn’t even see inside the window with the way the sun was shining on it.”
“Because I’m just that good,” he responded with a nonchalant shrug. “Now can we go eat? I’m starving.”
Ridley shifted in his seat until he was facing Alex and stared at him incredulously. No way could Alex have seen inside the store, let alone have heard what he and Chloe were talking about. “No we cannot go eat until you tell me how in the hell you did that?”
“I told you I’m just that good,” Alex snorted.
“Bullshit! How the hell—” Ridley narrowed his eyes and glared at Alex. “You have me bugged?”
“Now would I do that?” he said with a dismissive wave.
“Yes. Yes you would.” Ridley pulled on the neck of his T-shirt and looked down at his chest, then checked his arms, legs, and pockets.
“What the hell are you looking for?”
/> “Wires,” he said, pulling off a shoe and inspecting it—nothing. He pulled off the other one and didn’t find anything in that one either. “I don’t know how you did it, but you had to have wired me or something.”
“You’re paranoid,” Alex chuckled. “How about Bayou Grill?”
“Bayou Grill?” he asked distractedly, still searching for the wire he knew had to be somewhere on his body. It was the only thing that made sense.
“For lunch.”
“Dammit, Alex, where is it?”
“It’s right there,” Alex said, pointing out the window. “Good thing too. Did I mention I was starving?”
“That’s not what I was talking about and you damn well know it,” Ridley complained.
Ridley pulled out his wallet, searching every flap and pocket as well as the cards and IDs, but again found nothing.
“Mmm, all-you-can-eat crawfish. Sounds right up my alley,” Alex commented happily. “Ready?”
Ridley looked up to see they had come to a stop outside a restaurant. “I’ll figure this out,” he promised and stepped out of the truck.
“So, how long have you had this problem with paranoia?” Alex asked as he followed Ridley out of the truck. He hit the key fob and then met Ridley at the front, barely able to conceal his grin.
“Bite me.”
“Name the place and time, baby,” Alex purred and then chomped his teeth together.
Ridley rolled his eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” he repeated under his breath.
STEPPING INTO Bayou Grill, Ridley was taken aback by the décor. The walls were a bright yellow with drawings of ferryboats painted on them. Colorful Mardi Gras posters hung throughout as well as old musical instruments. Multicolored lights were strung along the ceiling. The floors were a rustic tile, and the tables were covered with brown paper. It was gaudy, but the scents of strong creole spices of garlic, onion, and cayenne pepper were inviting and caused Ridley’s gut to growl loudly. He took in the delicious aroma and momentarily put aside his need to find out what the hell Alex had been up to.
