by CJ Bishop
“Shit…” Axel gasped and sagged into the rumpled blankets, chest heaving forcefully.
Clint turned onto his side and kissed Axel’s chest and stomach, his fingertips trembling as they slowly traced the ugly scars that riddled his torso. Clint pressed his face to his upper abdomen, his lips touching one of the scars, and lay there unmoving but for his ragged breathing.
His hands shaking from their intense session, Axel slid his fingers through Clint’s damp hair, a lump rising in his throat. The scars would always be there, reminding Clint how close he’d come to losing Axel. The cowboy would retain a measure of guilt until his dying day, Axel understood this. There was nothing he could say to Clint to fully erase the blame the man laid on himself.
“I love you,” Axel whispered and lifted Clint’s face.
“I love you.” Clint moved up closer and kissed him deeply, then wrapped Axel in a crushing embrace. It seemed that it was always right after they made intense love…that Clint’s fear and guilt hit him the strongest. As if their lovemaking itself was a torturous reminder of what he’d almost lost. Clint’s lips trembled against Axel’s ear. “You’re not going.”
“What?”
Clint loosened his arms and pushed up on his elbows and stared into Axel’s face. “When we go after Adrian’s brother,” he murmured with a tightness to his voice. “You’re not going. You’re staying home.”
“Do you still think I can’t handle myself?”
“I know you can,” Clint said. “But I won’t allow you to be an active part of that world. You’re staying home. Do you understand me?”
Axel understood perfectly, and he wouldn’t push Clint on this; the cowboy had gone through enough hell. “Yes. I understand.”
A small smile formed on Clint’s face and he kissed him softly. “Good boy.”
CHAPTER 4
“By now, I understand that you’re not one for talking about things.” Kane watched the Egyptian shed his clothes an article at a time, face pinched in thought, yet keeping those thoughts to himself. “But a little sharing would be nice.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Cochise murmured, his distant tone betraying his own words.
“You’ve been distracted and preoccupied since you came home.” Kane walked over to the bed. “Did something happen over at Anthony’s? Or while you were out with Clint and Axel?”
Cochise shook his head. “Nothing of consequence.” He stripped down to his briefs and threw back the covers, sliding into bed. He left the blankets where they were and looked at Kane. “Coming to bed?”
The vision was enough to cause Kane’s train of thought to jump track. His wanton gaze caressed the Egyptian’s muscular body, not missing the growing bulge in his shorts. That and the heat in his gray eyes told Kane that the last thing on his mind was talking.
His pulse kicking up a few quick notches, Kane struggled to maintain control. “Yes,” he answered but made no move to undress. “But first, tell me about this ‘nothing of consequence’ thing. You’ve hardly spoken to anyone this evening. I need you to be able to tell me what’s going on with you. It isn’t as if I don’t know what your life consists of. You don’t have to keep things from me.”
Cochise exhaled in a sharp huff. “When there’s something you need to know, I will tell you. The rest is just ugly shit that you don’t need to be thinking about.”
“Ugly or not,” Kane said. “If it’s a part of your life, it’s a part mine as well. You don’t have to protect me.”
Cochise bolted off the bed, startling Kane. The Egyptian loomed over him, eyes hard. “I don’t have to protect you?” he snapped. “Have you forgotten what happened to Zoe? To Donald? To Axel? The dangers in that part of my life are fucking real. Don’t fucking tell me that I don’t have to protect you—I do.” His chest heaved, and he stepped back, dragging a stiff hand over his mouth. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with that part of my life, do you understand that? I refuse to bring it into your home, into your family.”
Kane stared at him, shaken. “Our home,” he whispered. “Our family.”
“What?”
“You said my home, my family.” Kane swallowed unsteadily. “But it’s not just mine; it’s ours.”
Cochise sighed and turned around. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I guess. Let’s just go to bed.”
“You guess?” Kane grabbed his arm. “No. There’s no guessing. You are a part of this family.”
“If you knew the things I’ve done,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t want me anywhere near this family.”
Kane stared at him; he hadn’t brought this up in a while. Why now, all of the sudden? “It’s the things you’ve done that I know about that forces me to argue your point. Whatever happened in the past, is in the past. I’ve told you that.”
Shadows swept through Cochise’s eyes. “Not everything in the past stays dead. Clint’s past came back to life and tried to kill us all. It did kill Shay. The past can be as deadly as the present.” He turned back to the bed. “In more ways than one.”
Whenever Cochise spoke of ‘the things he’d done’, Kane felt that he was speaking not of a conglomeration of events…but one single act. An isolated incident that he kept buried deep and out of sight…and which haunted him daily.
Kane didn’t know what it was, thus didn’t know how to help him deal with it. Cochise believed it to be an unforgivable act that would disintegrate Kane’s love for him and banish him from this family; was that why he had such hard time accepting his place in their family? Did he think it would hurt less to lose them all if he never admitted he was a part of the family in the first place?
The thought cut Kane to the core. By Cochise’s own admission, he’d never been in love before. And apart from Clint and the others, Kane suspected he’d had no sense of family, either. This was the first time in the Egyptian’s life that he was on the threshold of being part of something so real and intimate; loved and wanted by all those around him who saw him as more than just a mob enforcer, rather a husband and father and friend. It was in his eyes; he wanted this life, and all that came with it.
But that one thing held him back from embracing all that was being offered him.
And it broke Kane’s heart that there was nothing he could do to help him.
Don’t underestimate the power of love, or just “being there” for him. He’ll find his way through the darkness if you continue to be his beacon of light.
Kane stripped away his clothes and crawled into bed with Cochise. He kissed him softly. “Nothing in your past has the power to take this family or me away from you.” He stroked his cheek, his strong jaw. “I promise.” Kane kissed him again. “And I never break my promises.”
The Egyptian stared back at him with a look that whispered—You will break this one.
♦
The anxious, nagging feeling began somewhere inside his dream, twisting his gut and knotting his chest. His uneasiness mounted until it pushed him toward consciousness, but it didn’t let go when he opened his eyes. Adrian lay between the two sleeping men and stared at the ceiling, his heart beating too fast and nerves on edge. The sensation filled him with queasiness. He didn’t know where the fearful, panicked feeling was coming from and that made it worse.
Careful not to wake the men, Adrian crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. His stomach churned with anxiety all the way to the kitchen where he poured himself a small glass of milk. He took his drink with him and wandered down the halls. Lying in bed unmoving had made him more uptight. Maybe walking around would ease the unpleasant feeling within or help him get a handle on the source of the problem.
He passed Jules’ bedroom door, started to pause then moved on down the hall and around the corner to the guest room they’d given to Callum. Adrian stopped outside the room and listened; all was silent. What had he expected? It was the middle of the night. He stepped away from the door to head back the way he’d come when the anxiety squeezed h
is gut tighter. Adrian quietly opened the door a few inches. The room was dark but for the faint glow of street lights pressing through the thin curtains. He stared at the sleeping form for a long moment, started to retreat, then faltered as his gaze skipped absently around the room and his feeling of unease heightened. What was bugging him-
Where’s his shoes? His clothes? When Adrian had stepped in to tell Callum goodnight, the young man’s jacket had been slung over the desk chair, his shoes kicked off next to the bed. Both were missing. Would he have put them in the closet? Adrian doubted it. He entered the room and walked over to the bed. The closer he got, the less the sleeping form looked like a person and more like...
Adrian pulled off the covers. “What…?” His eyes widened at the pillows lying where Callum should have been. Why would he bother with the pillows if he’d just decided to leave?
He wanted you to think he was still here if you looked in on him in the night.
But why?
Adrian turned slowly and looked at the door, his heart suddenly pounding. “Jules…?” He ran from the room and sprinted down the hall to Jules’ bedroom, throwing open the door. The nightlight revealed the boy’s small form beneath the blankets. Adrian swiped his hand over the wall switch and the room flooded with bright, overhead light. “Jules?” He rushed to the bed when the boy didn’t stir and dragged the covers away. More pillows. “No…” Adrian’s knees went weak, his throat closing. “No…Jules. Oh, God. Oh, my God.” Adrian raked his hands frantically through his hair, tears rising along with a crippling panic. “Jules!”
♦
Axel was jolted from sleep by Clint’s hurried activity in the bedroom as he dressed and pulled on his boots. Fear and worry strained his face and Axel was catapulted back to the night Cory was shot, and Clint’s frantic desperation to get to him. Axel’s gut knotted up instantly.
“What’s wrong? What’re you doing?”
“I have to go.” Clint’s response was tight, clipped, as he grabbed his jacket.
“Go where?” Axel left the bed. “What’s going on?”
Clint seemed about to bolt from the bedroom without offering any information but halted at the last minute. “The kid took off,” Clint said stiffly.
“The kid?” Axel frowned, confused. Then it hit him who Clint was talking about. “Callum?”
“Yes.” Clint grabbed up his cowboy hat, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“So…” Axel didn’t understand the panic.
Clint faced him, eyes hard as nails. “He took Jules with him.”
Axel went numb. “What? Jules…Jules is…gone? Why would Callum…?” Axel didn’t finish; Callum was taking him back to Tazz.
“Just stay here,” Clint said and kissed him. “I’ll call you from Anthony’s when I find out more.”
A sudden bang on the back door made Axel jump, then realized it must be Cochise; they would have called him, too.
“I have to go.” Clint kissed him again and tugged on his hat. He left the bedroom with a swift stride, went to the backdoor and let the Egyptian in. Moments later, they were out the front door and gone.
Axel shivered at the thought of what they would do to Callum once they caught him. Jules was precious to these men, and if the child came to harm in any way, Axel could only imagine the carnage Clint and Cochise would leave behind.
Sleep wasn’t going to be an option until he heard back from Clint. Axel got dressed and went out to the back porch. Jonah was awake and eager to play, having been woken up by Cochise’s approach to the rear door. Axel smiled and sat down on the porch step, immediately mauled by the pup. “Hey,” he laughed softly and cuddled the animal, forcing it to calm down. He hugged the pup close to his chest and buried his face in its soft fur. “They’re gonna get your little buddy back,” he whispered, his throat suddenly constricted as thoughts of Jules filled his head. The boy spent so much time at their place, he was practically co-owner of Jonah. The pup surely wouldn’t get nearly as much exercise and play time without Jules.
There isn’t going to be any “without Jules”—Clint and the guys will bring him home, safe and sound.
Axel hugged the pup tighter, tears forming. What was happening to Jules right now? Was he terrified? The boy was scared to death of his Uncle Tazz and Blade. Axel had gotten a good vibe from Callum. He hadn’t expected him to do something like this.
“Guess I have a lot to learn about reading people, don’t I?” he whispered thickly against Jonah’s head. He stood up and carried the pup back inside with him, a weight in his chest he couldn’t dispel.
CHAPTER 5
It hadn’t been hard to convince Jules to go with him. The boy had always liked Callum; trusted him. He wasn’t yet old enough to know that not everyone told the truth. Less than twenty minutes into the drive, Jules had fallen back to sleep, curled up in the passenger seat beneath Callum’s jacket, hugging his puppy who he had refused to leave behind.
Callum had taken the backstreets of the city to avoid traffic delays. Even in the middle of the night, the main city streets were packed. Jules’ initial excitement at going on an adventure with Callum had caused the young man a slight sting of guilt; he hadn’t liked lying to the child. But with all that Adrian had surely told the boy, there was no way Jules would have willingly gone with him if he’d known where Callum was actually taking him.
Uncertainty churned his gut when he thought about what Adrian said. Tazz had told Callum that Jules’ mom had stolen him and ran away. Adrian’s story was different. If Adrian was lying…then where was Jules’ mom?
It doesn’t matter. Your loyalty is to Tazz. You come through this time and he’ll finally see that you’re worthy of his trust. He’ll give you a more important position in the gang.
They wouldn’t hurt Jules—he was Blade’s son. If he wasn’t—like Adrian said—then why wouldn’t they tell Callum? Why would they even want Jules? Had Jules’ mom lied to Adrian and told him Blade wasn’t the boy’s dad?
Callum took them through the city and out the other side. Tazz and the others were waiting for him at an old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. When Callum pulled up to the rear of the building and turned off the car, he looked at the sleeping child. His uncertainty rekindled as he thought about Jules back at Adrian’s place, how happy and content he had been. But if he was Blade’s son, didn’t the man have a right to his child? Callum found it a little difficult to imagine Blade as a kid person, much less a parent, but that wasn’t his call to make. The retrieval would finally elevate Callum to a higher status within the gang. A status he had been struggling to gain since he’d joined the gang at sixteen.
“Hey,” Callum spoke low and touched Jules’ shoulder. “Jules. Wake up.”
The boy stirred and sat up, small fists rubbing his eyes. “Where are we?”
“Home.”
Jules frowned and looked at the old building.
“Your real home,” Callum clarified. He smiled. “With your dad and Uncle Tazz.”
The boy froze, eyes growing wide. Tears formed and he looked around, suddenly frantic. “No, he’s not my dad,” he cried. “I don’t like them. They’re mean. I wanna go home!” He looked at Callum fearfully. “I wanna go home, Cal! I want Uncle Adrian! Take me home!” He hugged his pup, breaking into sobs.
“It’s…it’s gonna be okay,” Callum assured, his anxiety swelling. “Blade is your dad. He wants you with him.”
“No, he’s not!” Jules cried and buried his face in the dog’s fur, his small body shaking. “Shay is my daddy!”
Shay? Callum had never heard the name before. “Let’s go inside,” he murmured and opened the driver door, his stomach suddenly twisting into a painful knot.
“No!” Jules wailed. “I wanna go home!”
Callum swallowed, affected by the boy’s tears and panic. Callum climbed out and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door. “Come on, bud,” he said. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.”
“
No!” Jules screamed when Callum reached for him. “I wanna go home! I hate you! You’re not my friend! I wanna go home!”
“Jules, stop.” Callum trembled, growing anxious. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
“I want Uncle Adrian!” Jules wailed, fighting Callum’s hands as tears streaked his face. “I want Papa Jo and Daddy Tony! Let go!”
The pup grew agitated and anxious, small growls and whimpers rumbling in its chest, appearing as confused and frightened at the boy.
“What in the fuck is going on out here?” Tazz burst out the rear door of the warehouse, face screwed up in fury. “What is all the fucking racket?”
Jules went into a frenzied panic when he saw the man, screaming and crying.
Tazz grabbed Callum and shoved him out of the way then latched onto Jules’ arm. “Boy!” he snapped. “Shut the fuck up rightnow!”
Shaking uncontrollably, Jules went dead silent, terrified eyes dripping tears as he stared at Tazz. His small chest hitched with quick, broken breaths as visible panic consumed him. “I-I wanna go home,” he whispered so small and quiet Callum hardly heard him.
Tazz glared at the child then dragged him out of the car as the boy started crying again. “You are home, you little bastard.”
Callum stood frozen in place, heart pounding as Tazz hoisted the resistant, terrified child into his arms and headed back inside. The pup scrambled out of the car and raced after them, catching up too late as Tazz stepped through the rear entrance and slammed the door in the dog’s face. Deeply muffled from within, Callum heard Jules’ crying out his puppy’s name.
His mind growing numb, Callum retrieved his jacket from the car and walked over to the rear door of the warehouse. The pup whined and clawed frantically at the door. Shakes gripped Callum inside, and he picked up the puppy and entered the structure.
♦
