Guns n' Boys: Swamp Blood (Book 3) (gay dark mafia erotic romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  Seth squinted. “Did you see him? I didn’t see him. The motorcycle is still there. Fuck. I don’t know if he’s in there or not. What if they’re going in two batches, or something?”

  Mark flattened his back against the seat to make it easier for Seth to look through the fence. Sweat was soaking through his shirt at the back. “Maybe we could just... you know, go there and ask about Dom?”

  Seth groaned. “Yeah, right. And if they’re actually torturing him right now, they’d just hand him over. Oh, look. Dana. Yes, she’s waved at the van. Let’s go.” He started the car so abruptly Mark spilled some of the iced coffee on his chin.

  “W-what? How do you know he’s in there? Maybe she fucked one of the bikers, and she’s on their side now?” muttered Mark, though his heart did hope that Seth was right. That even despite Dana’s treacherous and mean nature, she would not betray Domenico. She was obviously enamored with him. Mark was sure her I-don’t-fuck attitude was just an act to make Dom want her. Pretty foolish, as Dom only had eyes for Seth.

  “She doesn’t fuck. And surely, doesn’t fuck bikers,” Seth said as they drove at a steady distance from the van. “Then again, I remember her saying she fucked this one guy at a gas station, but that was for favors.”

  Mark shrugged. “I suppose she doesn’t have a high sex drive. Or she’s in love with someone,” he said, watching the van as they followed it discreetly. This was quite exciting. Would they witness a takeover of some dirty underground brothel?

  Seth shook his head. “Highly doubt that. I sometimes look into her eyes, and sure, they’re nice and pretty, but it’s like looking into the eyes of a fish. A dead one.”

  “Yes!” Mark smiled and patted Seth’s thigh. “She’s so unpleasant. It’s only Domenico she tiptoes around.” He fell silent for a second, suddenly realizing he had no idea why she was even with them. “Who is she to you anyway? Neither of you seems to like her.”

  Seth groaned. “You know Dom was in special forces. She really wants to train under him. So she’s his little pet project, I guess. Which is kind of strange, because he’s a terrible misogynist otherwise. The mere concept of pussy offends him.”

  Mark pouted, unsure whether he wanted to share the embarrassing story about Dana tricking him with not even her pussy but tits. He chose not to. “Why? What is her job? Does she even have one, or does he pay for her food?”

  “She’s extra security, I guess.” Seth pouted.

  Mark nodded. “From who?”

  “Mark, please. Is this really the time for this? Bears and alligators, okay?”

  Mark crossed his arms on his chest and fell silent, making sure Seth got the point. He would not be denied information. “Are you in witness protection?”

  “If I was, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you, would I?” Seth gave him a meaningful look.

  “You gave me a gun!” mewled Mark, but he did see the reasoning behind Seth’s words. It kind of made sense: Domenico and Seth were alone, hiding away in small towns where they were least likely to be recognized.

  “Desperate times, Mark! Christ!” Seth gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

  Mark scowled, but he bit his lip when the van’s brake lights went on, and Seth drove into a parking lot in front of the very same diner where he and Domenico had once eaten dinner. And where Mark had first met Raj. It was a lucky place, so he relaxed slightly. Nothing could go wrong here.

  Seth stopped in the empty road for a while, behind trees, and only drove into the diner’s parking lot a few minutes later, making sure to find a place away from the van, in the far-off corner at the back of the diner.

  Mark blinked, and breath caught in his throat. “I can see him,” he said, noticing Domenico’s profile in the window. He chose the same booth they used last time. Maybe it was for good luck?

  Seth lowered the cowboy hat onto his forehead, but looked where Mark pointed. “Okay.” He slumped into the seat. “Let’s just make sure everything goes smoothly.”

  “See? He’s alive,” said Mark, squeezing Seth’s shoulder, though relief was also his. Now he could relax and drink the remaining frappe in peace.

  Seth took a deep gulp of air. “I hope I just overreacted, and we can go home after this whole thing and pretend in front of Dom that it never happened. I can’t lose him. He’s my whole life now.” And the way Seth looked at Dom told Mark just how in love Seth was.

  He swallowed hard, jealous of a feeling he didn’t understand. “But... isn’t it really making you feel miserable that you’re so addicted to him?”

  Seth’s lips stretched into a tender smile, and he slurped on a smoothie he had bought for himself. “No. It’s the best feeling on the planet. He can set my skin on fire by just brushing against me.”

  Mark felt heat rise up to his cheek at that confession, which sounded more intimate than any detailed story his hookups told him about fucking. He looked down at the melting crystals inside the plastic cup, and for once felt completely empty. As if he was not a person but a shell that the sea tossed around.

  “I wish I had that.”

  Seth finally tore his eyes away from Dom and rustled Mark’s hair. “I thought you said you’ll never fall in love?”

  Mark hugged himself, more grateful for the touch than he should be. “I don’t know. I mean, I met Raj, and when I think about kissing him, it’s like my body gets all hot. He has this creamy skin, he’s so slim and tall. Taller than me, actually.” Mark cleared his throat, remembering the last time he had met up with Raj, in the woods again, and they fucked on a blanket. “It’s so great, but... I don’t think it’s the same,” he whispered, slowly turning his eyes back to Seth. He got all the attention he craved, as if Seth really cared and truly listened. He wasn’t just a dude who listened to Mark because he wanted to fuck him later.

  “Why not? You just met. Maybe it could deepen if you gave it a chance. Me and Dom… we had lust, but it wasn’t like we exactly fell into each other’s arms. We fought quite a lot at the start.”

  “You still fight.”

  Seth groaned. “But every time we fight, we both know that we want to make up. It’s different than arguing with someone and breaking up over it.”

  “I guess.” Mark shrugged, still thinking about Raj’s smile. The guy was so normal, with the biggest problems he listed being the fear of coming out to his adoptive parents and bad scores in math. Raj lived in a world so different from Mark’s everyday reality of fear. “But me and him... we’re not like you. If I told him how I got here, he wouldn’t want to date me anymore,” Mark whispered, only now noticing that his voice was dropping with every word.

  Seth took a deep breath. “You’re only sixteen. It would be great if you met the love of your life now, but you still have time to figure it out. If you worry so much about what he would think about your lifestyle, maybe you need to work on changing it to what you want it to be. You’ll feel more confident, and you’ll be able to find someone right for you. And if the sex is fun, you can still fuck in the meanwhile, right?” He smiled at the end and slurped his smoothie. These were the kind of things Mark’s dad should have told him, though he doubted there was a grand future ahead of him. All his bets were on Fred’s kindness and willingness to help Mark through school, so that he could get real job in the future, when Domenico and Seth would be long gone from his life.

  “Domenico brought me here once. That’s when I met Raj,” Mark said with a small smile. “I wouldn’t have talked to him if Dom hadn’t told me to.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to everything Dom says though.” Seth laughed and gazed toward the diner for a moment. “But I can see he was pretty spot on with Raj.”

  Mark sighed, and for a few seconds, he too watched Dom, who was too focused on something he ate to notice a guy in a cowboy hat and one in women’s shades. “My parents never took me out anywhere. I mean, a few times when I was really young, and then they just... got too focused on themselves, I guess.” It was a mild euphemism for vi
olent alcoholism.

  “Even your mom?” Seth looked at him with care painted all over his face. “Wait. You said they died…?”

  “I lied.” Grief rose in Mark’s throat, and he looked away as his eyes welled up. He’d had a shitty family, and if they had ever loved him, they’d forgotten about it over time. “They’re drunks. I couldn’t stay with them anymore.”

  “Oh, Mark…” Seth quickly unbuckled his seat belt to lean closer and hug him. “I’m so sorry to hear that. You could have told us.”

  “You would have told me to go back,” whimpered Mark, stiffening in the embrace. It felt too honest to be true. “And I can’t. I won’t. I’d rather be on my own than anywhere near them. My dad is the worst. He beat me if I wouldn’t bring him booze, so I had to find ways to make the extra few bucks, and then it just got shittier, and shittier, and I hate him so much…” The last word made his throat clench, and he grabbed onto Seth, as Seth gently stroked his back. And listened. Just fucking listened to him.

  “That’s how I got into... you know.” Fucking for money. “How I got here. I want to turn my life around, and Fred has a job for me. He promised—” Mark took a deep, raspy breath and used the hem of his shirt to wipe the wetness off his eyelashes. He didn’t want to be such a baby in front of Seth, but he just wasn’t used to anyone being so kind.

  Seth didn’t pull away and let Mark cry for as long as he needed to. “That’s good. That’s a good attitude, Mark. Or you could always start a company, building watering can showers.” He laughed, and it deflated some of the tension in the best of ways. “Seems like a pretty good idea to me if you market it right. It is eco-friendly and uses little water.”

  Mark chuckled and rubbed his face, just to have an excuse for how red it was. He raised his eyes to look at Domenico, who was still sitting at the table. “Maybe you’re right. Domenico said I have a talent for that. And he’s never wrong, as we know.”

  Seth snorted and fake-clinked his smoothie against Mark’s cup. “Never.”

  They both looked up when a big, bald guy approached Domenico’s table. Slurping sweet drinks, it almost felt like being in the cinema. Domenico slipped off his shades and started polishing them on his sleeve like some kind of movie star. The other guy pulled away the chair and stopped with his ass halfway to the seat, as if he were imitating a duck. Mark snorted.

  Domenico leaned forward and put his glasses back on his nose as the other man finally sat in the chair. Sharp glances were exchanged over the table, and Mark liked to imagine they were talking like two characters from an action movie. With Dom being the hero, who you’d see use controlled violence. He would grab his opponent by the head and slam it against the table. And then he’d take out the gun, put the barrel against the bald bastard’s head, and roar, “Where are they?”

  He was swallowing another sip of the frappe when Domenico made the swiftest movement Mark had ever seen. It was like watching an alligator grab its prey, only to pull it into the swamp for a certain death. Domenico shot forward and hit the guy in the neck, only to stand up and casually leave the table. Mark blinked, surprised that the baldy hadn’t followed and just sat there against the backrest, staring ahead like an idiot. But then a cold hand grabbed at Mark’s heart when he noticed a red stream falling down the man’s neck, from beneath something slim and dark.

  “Fuck,” Seth hissed. “Fuck! He was supposed to talk to him. What’s happening?”

  But Mark didn’t have an answer. Seth just expressed his own worries. He frowned, and it only sank in now, after he replayed Dom’s action in his head forty times. The baldy was dead. Dom had killed him before their eyes. Stuck something in the guy’s neck and killed him. Mark managed to unglue his gaze from the victim and followed Dom’s elegant-looking silhouette all the way to the colorful van, which opened with a slamming of the backdoor, and two massive arms forcibly pulled Dom in by the shirt.

  “No, no, no, no…” Seth whimpered and threw his cup out the window, starting the engine.

  Mark fell back against the seat, feeling unreal. His life really had become a movie.

  Domenico’s flesh stung where he’d been manhandled, and his Beretta was temporarily with Ryder, but at least he managed to prevent the bikers from cuffing him. That would have been too risky, but fighting six armed brutes in a van? Even he could not come out of that alive. Back at the clubhouse, at least Dom had the space to think, even with the bikers all tense and ready to take him down. He exhaled, trying to keep his breath level and his senses alert to any violence as Ripper paced in front of him like a bloodthirsty lion. “Who are you, huh? You offed the guy just when he was about to say your name. How do you explain that?”

  Domenico shrugged. “My name’s not your concern. I don’t want it on tape.”

  Ryder got up with a snarl and swung the Beretta in the air. Domenico didn’t like it when his weapon wasn’t shown proper respect. “Can I just kill this cocky motherfucker?”

  Jed jumped to his feet as well. “Let him explain!”

  “You in love with him or something?” Ryder came forehead to forehead with Jed, who slouched, as if his brother was about to smack him. It was painful to watch.

  “It’s not all over yet. They will send people to investigate, and that could be the chance to trace where those bastards have come from,” said Dom, even though he was already thinking about ways to leave Louisiana as soon as possible. The girl was long gone, and he would not waste his time chasing after a ghost.

  Ryder shook his head. “She’s one of ours. We can’t just let him fuck it all up again!”

  “Yeah,” Axe grumbled from his place at the counter. He picked up a piece of newly fried chicken and patted Prospect, who poured oil into a second pot and wordlessly continued his artery-clogging spree. Upon their return, the guy had declared there would be deep-fried chocolate bars for dessert. Domenico was so eager to try them that for a moment he stopped listening to the conversation until Axe raised his voice. “We don’t even know if he doesn’t work for them. The trafficker knew him.”

  That much was true, and it chilled Domenico to the bone. “I have no idea who this fucker was. This has never been my area of expertise.”

  Ripper leaned down to look into his eyes. “What was your area of expertise?”

  Domenico closed his mouth and smirked as his hands itched to smash the old man’s face in for the impertinence. “Don’t you have an idea already?”

  Ryder looked at him, his eyes going darker. “You’re no ordinary goon, that’s for sure.”

  “Maybe he’s like Grim?”

  Ripper showed his teeth without looking at Dom. “A killer, huh?”

  Domenico said nothing. If anything could improve the situation now, it was staying calm.

  Axe snorted and wiggled his pale eyebrows. “Maybe being a fag also comes with the profession.” No one laughed. “Tough crowd, eh?”

  Domenico stretched his back and looked at him. “I would laugh if I knew why it was funny.”

  Axe groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s funny because Grim fucks boys as well.”

  “And if you called him a fag, he’d put a bullet through your skull,” Jed hissed and clenched his fists.

  Domenico chuckled. “I’m sorry I don’t have any bullets at hand. If I did, it would make for a great punch line.”

  The bikers stilled, seemingly too confused to know whether they should laugh or try to beat him up.

  Ryder growled. “Fuck off. My woman’s sister is missing. Stop fucking around!”

  “How do you plan to make up for today’s stunt? I’m afraid we’re running out of options.” There was no humor in Ripper’s voice.

  Domenico met his gaze, tired of constantly being pushed out of control. He’d been reluctant to get in touch with his old contacts, but maybe approaching those who only knew his fake personas was an option. At this point, he was ready to do a lot for a newly cleaned slate. “I’m retired, but if I wanted, I could use you as my shield right now, so stop. Pissing.
Me. Off,” he yelled, keeping an eye on the men around him. He would not take Ripper. He would take Jed, unsuspecting and standing close enough. He had enough of wasting time.

  Jed held his hands up. He was trying to keep up his part of the deal. Good. “Come on, guys. If he’s some badass killer who was known to the bald guy, I’m sure he can make some calls to his friends high up, get some contacts?” He looked at Dom.

  Domenico groaned and gave a slight nod. “I am a man of honor, and I pay my debts, but I will not be scolded like a ten-year-old who pissed his pants. That guy needed to go, so I got rid of him. End of story.”

  Ripper’s nostrils flared, but he stood in place, watching Domenico, with his body tense and ready to fight. He probably wasn’t threatened very often but was smart enough not to let his anger lead him. Clearly, that was why he was the leader of this gang. The other bikers stayed silent, taking the hint from their president, and Domenico nodded.

  He could see the Coffin Nails were relatively well organized, but their efforts to find the girl were undermined by the fact they didn’t have much to do with the shadiest corners of the crime world. He supposed that made them the good guys in this equation, though the lack of knowledge of what was happening under the surface of the normal world was hardly excusable for an organization as large as this. Domenico wasn’t proud of it, but he occasionally did contracts for groups connected to large human trafficking rings. As sorry as he felt for the victims, the world was an ocean, and predators occasionally caught fish that strayed too far away from the protection of their school. A shark like Domenico generally considered it beneath him to target the defenseless, but it was his policy to stay away, unless he had a reason to intervene. He supposed that getting Seth away from here without yet another organization on their tail was reason enough.

  “I will make calls. If this man knew me, then there must be a connection between some of my former associates and those people. If there’s anyone who can help you find that girl, it’s me.” Dom was sure she was as dead as the canned fish Seth put in pasta.