by J. C. Owens
Kirith gathered him fully into his arms as Landon broke down completely.
“This is not your fault in any way, shape, or form, my love. You cannot control the actions of others. There was no way to know that Adrian still lived, no way to predict this atrocity. It is fully possible that Ren would have done this on his own or that Rafe would have taken action to try to possess Chase without outside influence. You cannot blame yourself for this. Just because you are related to the bastard does not mean you are implicated or should hold blame. Should I take responsibility for any of the horrors my family have perpetrated over the years?”
Landon jerked up, pulled Kirith forward for a frantic kiss. “No. Don’t you ever compare yourself to them.”
“Then don’t take on your brother’s behavior. This is none of your doing.”
Landon buried his head against Kirith’s shoulder. “I hate the bastard. I don’t care we share blood.”
Kirith stroked his lover’s hair back with gentle fingers. “He and Nate tortured you as you grew up, kept you as a virtual prisoner under their thumb. I am not surprised you hold no brotherly sentiments toward him.”
“Brian has men out searching for him already. I couldn’t bring myself to…join them.” His voice broke with emotion.
“I should think not.” Kirith was horrified at the very notion. Adrian would meet his comeuppance, but it would not be at Landon’s hands. His lover would never be able to wash the blood from his conscience if he took part in such a thing.
“This is for others to deal with, Landon. Your brothers have made your life a misery for so long. Don’t let them bring you grief now. This is nothing of your doing. There is nothing in my heart that feels even the slightest hint of blame toward you. Don’t let this bring you grief or bring a shadow between us that does not need to exist.”
Chase hugged Landon from the other side, pressing him between them, shielding him.
Kirith put his arm around them both, feeling Landon’s tears against his shoulder. These two men held his heart. One as a younger brother, one as his beloved partner. No matter what else had happened, the three of them would get through.
It was time to return to the island.
Chapter Fifteen
Kirith and Chase sat in the shade of the palm trees, going over Chase’s lessons, blond and silver heads bent close together as they worked.
Kirith reveled in the feel of the sun, in the sense of “home,” as he pressed close to Chase’s side. He had loved the island before, but always with an edge of nostalgia for the mainland.
He had been virtually imprisoned here far before Landon’s arrival.
Now, it seemed a protective haven. His lover by his side, Chase safe at last. Raymond being cared for at the house.
Still, they did not relax their guard. A large portion of Brian’s forces, Landon’s teammates, were here in full protective mode. No chances were being taken. One threat, however, seemed less and less likely. The family was caught up in its own destruction, and word from their sources said that other groups were adding to the carnage.
Kirith hoped viciously that they all eliminated each other. He had been too long in the shadow of their revenge, and to have both he and his lover safe from that particular threat would be a great relief, perhaps even an opportunity for them to be able to travel, to see the world without fear of reprisal.
For him finally to see his mother’s birthplace, Norway. He wistfully hoped he could gift such a thing to his lover, to show him his roots.
Kirith rose and stretched, then bent to Chase. “I am going for a run with Landon. I assume you don’t want to join us?”
Chase huffed, shaking his head. “This morning was enough, thanks. Run your fool heads off.” Kirith could not prevent a short burst of laughter, before looking up the beach.
Landon waited, impatient.
Landon’s eyes met Kirith’s, and he began to make his way over, with that long smooth stride that always got Kirith’s blood up.
Sexy and powerful.
“Ready for a run?” Landon’s tone held a promise.
Kirith grinned, unable to help himself at the prospect of some time alone with his lover. It had been some time since they had had privacy, or even the desire, with everything that had happened.
The stretch of muscle felt wonderful, their long strides even and steady, together in this, as with everything.
After a mile or so, they stopped, as if in synchronicity, facing the ocean for long moments, absorbing both its beauty and its power.
Landon curled his hand behind Kirith’s neck, bringing him in for a deep kiss, inviting his lover’s tongue out to play.
Kirith moaned in response, wrapping his arm around Landon’s waist and tugging him tightly against his body, letting him feel the abrupt arousal that made Kirith’s shorts far too snug.
Landon slid a hand down, rubbing Kirith’s cock with knowing fingers, proficient in bringing his lover into instant hardness, murmuring soft promises in his ear.
Kirith growled, tugging Landon after him into the surf, facing the ocean. Pulling Landon’s shorts down and off, flinging them toward the shore, he then set to work on his own, freeing his painful shaft with alacrity.
Landon refused to let go of him, kissing over his neck, breathing into his ear, and making Kirith shiver uncontrollably.
With a groan of need, Kirith hefted his lover, Landon wrapping his legs around Kirith’s waist with ease, the water buoying his movements.
Kirith slipped into him, water aiding the cause, though Landon hissed a little. Kirith was too large to take easily without stretching. A wave washed past them, lifting Landon, moving him upon Kirith’s cock. They both groaned with pleasure.
It was long, and lazy, letting the waves do the work, prolonging the heat, and the sensation, building it bit by bit.
Landon threw his head back at last, clutching at Kirith, staring blindly at the blue sky. “Fuck me. Please, now…I…”
Kirith obeyed, chasing his own orgasm with sharp thrusts that slowed with the water’s resistance. He circled his hips, pinning Landon against him, holding him mercilessly in place.
Landon’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, only a silent scream as he came, a sudden warmth along Kirith’s abs, that almost instantly washed away.
Kirith stiffened against him, before crying out with release, Landon’s name echoed by the seagulls that whirled above.
They almost collapsed then, perhaps would have, if Landon had not nimbly disentangled himself, standing in the surf and catching Kirith around the waist.
They stood, entwined, breath harsh, feeling some of the ever present grief and tension drain away, cleansed by the ocean herself.
Chase dusted the sand off his shorts, wondering how long Kirith and Landon would be gone.
Kirith had taken Chase on a similar exercise just that morning, but Chase had not enjoyed the experience. He would have a long way to go in training before he could match Kirith’s fitness and endurance. Still, it would be good to work upon such a thing. The workout brought a kind of numb peace that he longed for.
He stared out to sea, his thoughts too fragmented to focus on his studies. The steady crash of the waves was soothing, the tranquility of the island working upon his shattered nerves. If only he did not feel so alone, as though a ghost sat at his side, leaving a cold void. He let his head hang, taking a deep breath. There were no more tears. He had shed them all, and the pain was now deeper than any tears could possibly express.
The faint sound of a boat motor dragged him out of his dismal thoughts and back to the present. He raised his head, noting wearily that the weekly deliveries were being made. Kirith had people on one of the larger islands who looked after their needs and sent whatever was required via boat on a weekly basis. Such things as food, supplies, mail, and an exchange of people who looked after Raymond.
Already he could see several guards striding from the main house down to the docks to meet the approaching vessel.
/> Chase rose to his feet and brushed off the sand with slow, absent strokes before bending to gather up his text books. Kirith had ordered him some new architectural volumes, so he was anticipating their arrival. With any luck, they would be in this week’s goods, and he could while away his time with their contents, instead of hovering near Kirith like a lost soul.
He needed to become more independent again. He could not forever lean on Kirith as his emotional support. It had been six months. He needed to find his feet and stand as a man, not a frightened, grief-stricken boy. He was spending time with Raymond, trying to help him remember, to work his way back to functioning once more. How much true help he was, he did not know, but he and the other man were becoming close, something he was grateful for.
Sighing at his morose thoughts, he turned for the house, watching the happiness down at the docks with a faint wistfulness.
Several of the guards here were from surrounding islands and therefore had family close by. They were so much warmer in manner than the other men, and Chase often sat with one or the other islander, enjoying their calm acceptance of life, their enjoyment in small things. He had learned so much, from climbing a coconut tree to fishing from the rocks on the south side of the island. They had become much needed friends and had helped him begin to heal.
The boat was run by relatives and also brought news of others. During the rotation of guards and other staff, the boat would take them home and bring others in their place. Chase always enjoyed the rich language, the love of life that seemed to come so naturally to those who had been born in this region.
He gained the sanctuary of the veranda, safe from the direct sun, and laid his work on the ornate patio table there. Trying to avoid his own thoughts, he settled back into the large chair, staring blankly at the beauty of his surroundings.
The smell of lasagna wafted from the open windows, and he sniffed appreciatively. Moments later, Ms. Granger appeared as though she had anticipated his arrival, a cool glass of lemonade brought to the table. She laid a kiss upon his forehead, smoothing his hair for a long moment, before she smiled and turned to reenter her new domain. She was so happy here, settling in better than Chase would ever have imagined. Her smiles were more frequent, and Chase had inklings that she was growing quite close to a certain islander…
Chase thanked the stars that she was here, safe, and part of the family again.
Finding a faint smile for the first time in far too long, he bent his head and returned to his studies.
Kirith and Landon looked rumpled, but satiated upon their return, and it was completely evident what they had been up to.
Chase felt a twinge of jealousy, lowering his gaze to his books. Kirith and Landon had gone through so much. They deserved their happiness.
It was worse when Kirith leaned over Chase, laying a kiss upon the top of his head and stroking back his hair.
When Chase looked up to meet those beautiful eyes, he saw nothing but sympathy and deep understanding there.
He tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace than anything else.
They were interrupted as the Ms. Granger came out with lunch, Laura in her wake, helping as usual.
The woman fussed with the arrangement of plates, humming.
“Did you order a new houseplant, sir? One came with the boat, and I wondered if they made a mistake. It did not seem to be something you would add to your atrium.”
Kirith looked up from where he was now seated, trying to fend Landon away from taking the whole bowl of potato salad for himself.
“A plant?” he asked, distractedly.
“An ivy.”
Kirith dropped his plate, staring at her in disbelief, his face paling.
Chase pushed back his chair abruptly, alarm surging through him at the other man’s strange reaction.
Landon supported his lover from the other side, food forgotten.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s an old signal. From way back after I killed our father. I had to remain in the house with the guards, and sometimes Enzo would be out, away for days. While he was gone, he arranged to send me snippets of ivy, a way of telling me he was fine, safe. We joked that ivy was tough to kill—like him.” Kirith was almost whispering, his voice rough and cracked.
He looked up, met Chase’s worried look.
“He’s alive. Enzo’s alive.”
Chase peered out the window, watching the jungle below grow larger as they descended. He chewed his lip nervously, drawing blood again. He could not, would not, believe this was real, that his lover was alive, until he saw proof. Until he saw Enzo himself.
Kirith’s firm belief, his utter faith that Enzo would be here in Peru, worried both Chase and Landon. Had it been mere chance that the ivy had arrived on the island? Kirith often ordered plants for his atrium. Was it possible that this was a mistake? And if so, what would be the effect when Kirith discovered he was wrong, that Enzo was truly dead?
Chase could not bear to envision such a thing. Kirith was investing everything of himself into this search, and those who loved him could only follow, praying that he was right, waiting to pick up the pieces if he was wrong.
Chase himself could not open to hope.
He saw his own skepticism on Landon’s face, but for Kirith’s sake they were silent on the matter.
Kirith was like a madman. He had spent days phoning unnamed sources, people he seemed to know, others who were obviously strangers.
Now they were flying to a small village on a whisper of information and Kirith’s hope. And with them, despite all protests to the contrary, was Raymond, determined to know, to be there whether the news was grim or joyful. He was weak, but nobody could possibly talk him out of something so important.
The private jet landed gently upon the dirt airstrip, finally coming to a complete stop, the engines powering down. Brian and his men stepped out first, searching the immediate area, before they allowed the passengers off the plane.
Kirith waited with clear impatience, his eyes glinting with suppressed eagerness, his body visibly tense with the need to act, to move. When the all clear was given, Landon walked in front of his lover, eyes flicking everywhere at once, one hand always on Kirith. Several guards helped Raymond out, and he stood straighter than he had been so far, obviously determined to show no weakness to any watchers.
Chase felt his heart sink as he was finally allowed to step onto the airstrip. He could see no happy ending coming of this endeavor at all. He was far too intimately acquainted with pain and disappointment to believe in the veracity of a single, possible sign.
Part of him believed that Enzo had been taken from him because he was not worthy—that someone above had realized his true self and had seen fit to take his joy from him. After everything that had been done to him over the years, how could he possibly be someone the heavens looked upon favorably?
The sound of engines drew him from tortured musings. Guns drawn, the team surrounded Chase, Kirith, Landon, and Raymond.
Four rough-looking SUVs emerged from the jungle to their left, from a track that in no way resembled a road. There appeared to be eight well-armed men, tough and somewhat scruffy, their clothing half uniform, half camouflage. The vehicles slid to a stop, fresh mud everywhere upon their surfaces, the men themselves spotted with dirt.
Silence fell for long moments as the two groups stared at each other, the only sound the soft ticks of the cooling engines.
Finally, one of the men slid from behind the steering wheel, his movements rife with a sinuous grace that proclaimed him predator. The other men followed, gathering behind him, naming him their leader without a word being spoken.
The man approached, his stride sure and even, his cold brown eyes fixed upon them with no fear, even as the men around Chase shifted, their stances widening in warning, guns shifting higher in their grips.
Some small distance from their position, he stopped, viewing them silently, gaze trailing over each man, landing finally on
Kirith. His eyes widened ever so slightly, then a smirk slid over his features, his head tilting slightly.
“My brother had not mentioned how beautiful you are, Kirith Martinelli. If he had, I would not have waited, I would have come to fetch you myself.” Those brown eyes had become heated, sliding over Kirith’s body with blatant appreciation.
Landon snarled, stepping in front of his lover, bristling with tension.
Kirith put a hand upon his shoulder, holding him steady for a moment, their eyes meeting, something silent passing between them. Kirith then stepped forward, gaze cool and remote, daring the man to disrespect him further.
The man grinned, white teeth flashing against darkly tanned skin, folding his arms over his mud-spotted chest. His black hair, short cut, suited his cheeky demeanor. He was shorter than any of Kirith’s people, but his attitude more than made up for it.
Kirith narrowed his eyes. “Your people told me you might know where Enzo Martinelli is. Is this true?”
Chase was proud of the tone of Kirith’s voice. No one would ever know the eagerness behind it—the sheer desperation that had fuelled this flight, this pursuit of a mere rumor. Kirith stood motionless, waiting for an answer, his body giving no sign of the tension he must be feeling.
The newcomer’s gaze slid from him to Landon, his smirk widening, before he bowed from the waist, with a formal precision out of place in a steaming jungle, among men such as this.
“I am Raoul Marito Mendoza.”
