by Marie Harte
Nathan could only stare.
“Then I managed to behave myself when I wanted to fuck you the entire trip to Bloomville. I wanted my dick down your throat during the drive, despite your annoying chatter. And no offense, you cook like a dream, but your coffee tastes like shit. I only drink it because I love you.” Avery grimaced. “Not the best timing, huh? You find out your father’s a psychopath, then you have to hear from the guy who rubs your face into the mats on a daily basis that he loves you—”
Nathan stole Avery’s breath with a kiss. Balance had a way of making things right. The truth of his past might be hell, but the beauty of his future was here, right now, for the taking.
“Fuck, Avery. You should have told me that before the part about Dixon.”
Avery groaned and yanked him closer, plastering his erection against Nathan’s. “I’m trying to be sensitive, dumb-ass. And now I’ve probably scared you. All that love talk can’t be good, not after the warped love between your mom and dad.”
“He’s not my dad, not in any sense that matters. But Danielle, her I think of as Mom.”
Avery nodded and kissed him again. He broke off, panting. “She’d like that. Noah spoke really highly of her, you know. Said the woman loved you like crazy.”
“Crazy. Good word to use with my family.” Nathan kissed Avery again, desperate for some light in his life. “I need you.”
“Always, baby.”
They made their way to bed and didn’t leave for several hours.
When Nathan could once again feel his toes, he sighed and slumped over Avery’s heaving chest. “I can’t move. My ass is full of cum, and did I say I can’t move?”
Avery chuckled. “Good loving will do that to you. Who knew you were a screamer?”
“Shut up.” Nathan smiled. Even the truth couldn’t totally dim his satisfaction. “What am I going to do?”
“About me? Just bend over at least twice a day, shut up, and take it like a man, and we’re good.”
“God, you are such an asshole.”
Avery snickered.
“I meant, what do I do about Malcolm?” He sighed. “We know he’s out there, coming for me. I need to go back to Bloomville, don’t I?”
“Not without me, you don’t. Every day we learn a little more about what Dixon is really like, and none of it’s good.” Avery paused and caressed Nathan’s hair. “I worry about you, baby.”
Nathan kissed Avery’s chest. “I worry about you too. That vision didn’t show you anywhere near. And you’re a possessive bastard. If you’re not close, it means Dixon did something to you. We need more men on this case.”
“We have nearly half a dozen on it now. Two are constantly watching your place. Noah did his research, I’m watching your back, and Ian’s been gathering intel from sources—and I quote—‘we’re not supposed to ask about.’”
Nathan snorted. “Little shit. He just says that to appear mysterious.”
“And to annoy Jack.” Avery chuckled. “Ian’s good at his job.”
“Yeah. So why can’t he find Malcolm for us?” Nathan pushed up from Avery and frowned. “I want this over with. Then I can concentrate on you.”
“You mean you’re not focused now? I don’t know if I’ll survive when you are.” Avery slapped an arm over his eyes, clearly exhausted.
Nathan felt revived. He whistled as he took care of his needs and cleaned up in the shower. When he finished, he found Avery asleep on the bed. He pushed Avery’s hair back off his face, enamored with the hard features softened in sleep. Yet Avery still looked tough, a warrior through and through.
“What am I going to do with you?”
The guy called him baby, insulted his coffee, and made love unselfishly. He didn’t care about Nathan’s past, only that Nathan would have a future, one he apparently wanted to share.
God, Nathan loved the big guy. So why was it so hard to say it out loud? Because if I do, something bad will happen. A stupid thing to think, but he had cause.
He left Avery sleeping and searched for his cell phone. He found it and made a call. Ian picked up on the second ring.
“Yes?”
“Hey, Ian, it’s Nathan.”
“I figured. Caller ID is a wonderful invention.” Smart-ass. “What can I do you for?”
“I need to grab some groceries but didn’t want to leave Avery here by himself, just in case Malcolm makes his move.” There was no telling what the psycho might do, and Nathan didn’t want to take any chances. He wasn’t too proud to use all the help he could get.
“Good call. Foreman and Price are standing by. I’ll send one of them in.”
Nathan frowned. “You’ll send them in?”
“I’m standing in for Jack while he deals with some case Gavin screwed up.”
“Isn’t Gavin our accountant?”
“Yep. And there’s a big part of the problem. He’s a wonder boy with numbers, but he got greedy and tried to track down that book you guys looked into.”
“He found it?”
“Yep. Then he lost it. And now Jack is beyond pissed, because our client needs it back, like yesterday.”
Nathan shook his head. “From what the bookseller said, it was just an old book of weird names with some sex thrown in for shits and grins.”
“Well, apparently it had something more in there, some strange codes sewn into the binding that mean something. Not that you heard that from me.”
Talk about the wrong man to tell secrets to. “Your point?”
“My point is that as we speak, Price is on your doorstep and Foreman is standing guard on the house. Your lover is in good hands.” Ian paused. “So is Avery big all over?”
“Shut up.” Nathan chuckled. “But thanks.” He disconnected just as a knock came at the door.
He peered out the dormer window and saw Keegan Price standing with his hands in his pockets. If Nathan hadn’t had the hots for Avery, and Keegan weren’t in a three-way relationship, Nathan would have done him in a heartbeat. But the pesky emotions clogging his heart made the idea unfathomable. Still, he could appreciate a walking work of art. The body on Keegan Price could tempt a saint.
He opened the door and smiled.
Keegan saw him and groaned. “Oh hell. I thought I had Avery. Come on, trouble. Let’s go shopping.”
Nathan set the code on the door and closed it, but he couldn’t quite step away. Leaving Avery unaware, vulnerable, didn’t sit right.
“Don’t worry, Nathan. We’re watching your boy.”
Nathan let out the breath he’d been holding. “I know. I just have an itchy feeling. And it’s hard to leave him without saying good-bye.”
“Huh?”
“He’s sleeping.”
“It’s the middle of the day.” Keegan frowned at him. “He’s in bed?”
“He’s resting.” Nathan gave a cocky grin. “I wore him out.”
“Oh. Oh.” Keegan tipped back the cowboy hat shielding his gaze and grinned down at Nathan. “Can’t wait to rib him about that. Avery’s a bit too tense, you know? Needs to lighten up some.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Just so long as he lightened up on Nathan and no one else.
Nathan walked away, but the bad feeling growing in his gut didn’t ease. It worsened, and he warned Keegan to be ready for anything.
Maybe he’d lengthen his shopping trip, expose himself to as many people and security cameras as he could to tempt Malcolm. Anything to keep the danger from Avery and centered on himself. I’m ready for you, Dad. It’s time we settled this. Once and for all.
Chapter Eleven
Having left Avery a message on his cell phone and knowing James Foreman stood watch outside, Nathan felt free to shop. He picked up groceries Avery refused to buy. Doughnuts, some sodas, and candy bars. Nathan had a sweet tooth, and he admitted it. When he worried, it grew worse. But the health nut he currently lived with refused to cater to his needs. Health, schmealth. Nathan needed comfort food.
Th
en he decided to pick up a few pairs of jeans. His had holes. And on the way, he spotted a shirt and a sweater that would look perfect on Avery. More time to give Malcolm a shot at him gave Nathan a sense of purpose, and he threw himself into shopping. When Keegan bitched about it, Nathan told him the why of it, leaving out how much he actually enjoyed clothes shopping. So the gruff man could do nothing but wait around while he looked for bargains.
Three hours later, he figured he’d given Malcolm enough time to spot him while letting Avery get some much-needed rest. He needed to talk things over with Jack too. Sitting on his hands waiting wasn’t working. Nathan needed action. He intended to draw Malcolm to him. Dear Daddy would come if lured with the right bait—Nathan on a silver platter.
He returned to the house with Keegan bitching every other step.
“Damn shoe stores. You’re a frickin’ dude, act like it.”
“Get over yourself, Texas. Even cowboys wear boots.”
“Boots and jeans and flannel. One-stop shoppin’. But today…that was pure torture. Even Rory doesn’t put me through that.”
“No, she takes James with her.” Keegan’s partner was a clotheshorse and looked good in just about everything he wore. Nathan grinned. “Want me to grab James the next time I need help in the dressing room?”
Keegan growled something uncomplimentary under his breath. Nathan unlocked the door and released the alarm that flashed. Once he’d resecured the house, he called out for Avery. And got no response.
He and Keegan exchanged a glance.
“Go get him.” Keegan drew a weapon from behind his back, and Nathan could feel the psychic energy flare. No doubt the tall Texan readied telekinetic power to kick some ass if needed.
Nathan hurried into the bedroom, but he found nothing. No sign of a struggle, no sign of Avery.
“Huh.” He looked around and saw the jeans and shoes Avery had stacked on a side table were now missing.
Keegan entered, his eyes narrowed, wearing his game face. Huge and mean, Keegan invited trouble, and Nathan was happy to have him on the same team. The man held a gun in one hand and his cell in the other.
“James isn’t answering.”
Nathan’s heart raced. “Go find him. I’ll look around in here.”
“Rest of the house is clear,” Keegan offered, then handed Nathan his gun. “But take this just in case. You see anything wrong, yell for me.” Then he left to find his partner.
Nathan searched the house from top to bottom but saw nothing of Avery, only more to make him worry. Avery’s wallet, cell phone, and truck keys remained on the dresser. His gun was missing, and for some reason that made Nathan feel worse.
In looking for a clue to explain his lover’s disappearance, he tossed the bed.
What he saw under Avery’s pillow drained the blood from his head.
A black KA-BAR, the same type of knife he’d used to stab Malcolm, lay on the bed, a touch of red at the tip of the knife. The blade had been meticulously cleaned, the blood on the end a purposeful touch.
Nathan was afraid to handle it, scared to see his lover dead, killed at the hands of a madman. But he had to know.
He gripped the handle and flinched as psychic overload blasted him. It was indeed the same knife he’d used on his uncle—father…
* * * *
Avery swore as a knife pricked his throat. He lay in bed but had the gun he kept close at all times pointed at Malcolm, ready to fire.
Malcolm shook his head. “If you want James Foreman’s body to be found, you’ll put that away.”
Avery lowered the gun and placed it in Malcolm’s hand, and Malcolm turned the weapon on Avery.
“Very good. Now sit up, slowly. Let’s see what little Nathan considers so precious, hmm?”
Avery’s expression didn’t change. “I’m going to kill you.” The even way he said it must have impressed Malcolm, because Nathan’s father smiled.
To Nathan’s horror, he noted a resemblance he’d never seen before.
“I think I like you, Major Holton. Your association with that bastard fuck of mine notwithstanding, you’ll make an admirable foe. I look forward to our dance, my young friend. Now quickly. Get dressed.”
Avery put on jeans, a sweater, and his shoes. Before he could reach for his jacket, Malcolm stepped behind him and shoved the blade deep into his side.
Avery grunted but didn’t flinch, and Malcolm tucked the gun into the back of his pants while his other hand held tight to the knife inside Avery.
“Such poise. You’re an old hand at this. And won’t that be fun?” Malcolm’s smile turned mean, his eyes narrowed, and he shoved Avery away, onto his hands and knees.
The dark blue of Avery’s sweater hid his wound, but Nathan saw him clutch his side. Saw his fingers stained red.
“Nothing life threatening for you, not yet.” Malcolm leaned down and stabbed Avery again, this time in the meat of his shoulder. His precise movements indicated a graceful skill, one that had only grown keener with time. “That’s going to stiffen up on you later. Be harder to fight back with that.” Malcolm spoke in a kind of clinical commentary. He grabbed a towel by his side. “Now stanch that blood. Out to the truck and get in.”
They walked, Avery in front of Malcolm, to a dark green SUV. Once there, Malcolm nodded to the back. “Open it and get in.”
Avery exploded in motion. He punched Malcolm in the face twice and tackled him to the ground. They wrestled for a bit before Avery suddenly slumped and stopped moving…
* * * *
Nathan’s heart seemed to stop beating.
* * * *
Then Malcolm shoved Avery off him, and Nathan saw the needle stuck in Avery’s neck.
“You fight well for a slut.” Malcolm’s grin showed bloody teeth. “Nathan is a screwup, but he at least chose someone who can handle himself. Mostly.”
Malcolm heaved Avery into the truck with some effort, but the strength in the older man was shocking. He wiped his mouth and nose free of blood and smoothed down his coat. Then he picked up the gun that had fallen and tucked it back into his jacket.
He shut the back hatch of the vehicle, disappeared once more into the house, and returned. When he entered the car, he looked down at the blade Nathan and Avery had been directed to bring back.
But when he spoke, he directed his words to Nathan. “Come to me, Nathan. Come to Daddy. You know where. And come alone, or your ass fucker dies.”
* * * *
The vision cut off, as if willed away by the man at the center of it.
Nathan’s rage was so great it took him a few moments to realize Keegan and James had joined him. James looked like he’d been hit by a bus. He had a goose egg on his temple, a few cuts on his face, and he cradled his wrist.
“I have to take him in. His head wound is bad.” Keegan looked angrier than shit, but Nathan knew most of it was worry. “No sign of Avery?”
“No. Take him to Doc Cannon. She’ll make him right in no time.”
Keegan nodded. “Let’s go.”
“I can’t. I have things to do.”
“Dammit, Nathan. I can’t leave you here.” He looked panicked when he glanced down at his partner, lover, and unofficial husband. “We can’t wait. We need to leave, now.”
“So go. Trust me on this. I have to handle it my way.” Nathan paused. “Keegan, if I don’t do this, Avery’s going to die.” He let the other man see what that meant to him, his heart in his eyes. “I can’t let that happen.”
“Fuck. I know that look.” Keegan sighed. “Better hurry. I’ll give you an hour. But soon as I send out word, Jack is gonna have every available body on your ass. Take my truck; it’ll buy you some time. I’ll take yours.”
They swapped keys. “Good luck,” Nathan offered. “I’m sorry, James.”
Foreman tried to wave at him, then lost consciousness. Keegan raced away with James and called over his shoulder, “Don’t let down your guard. Avery’s depending on you.”
Nathan grip
ped the keys, grabbed the KA-BAR, and hurried into Keegan’s SUV. Thankfully they’d gassed up after shopping before heading back. He’d drive as far as he could, then continue as long as he had to. With any luck, he’d reach Malcolm in Bloomville sooner than the fucker anticipated. Back to the place where his personal hell had come to a brief, satisfying conclusion. One he hoped to have once again.
* * * *
Avery moaned when his shoulder hit something hard. Then his side burned. Another bump in the dark. He blinked but saw nothing but a hazy black.
Movement stopped, he heard the sound of a car door opening, and light blinded him.
“Not yet, Sleeping Beauty. Back to bed.” Something pinched his hip, and he lost consciousness.
He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he next woke, he felt sore all over. His throat was parched, his eyes hurt, and his shoulder and side throbbed like a raw wound. His hands had been bound behind him, tied to the same chair as his ankles. He had to piss, and he felt feverish. All in all, he’d had better days.
Water splashed into his face and had him gasping for breath.
“Oh, good. You’re back.”
Avery blinked up at an older version of Nathan. The same shaped eyes, the sandy brown brows and hair. Even the way the guy tilted his head as he looked at Avery was the same. It was eerie as hell. The man had Nathan’s height and extra brawn, what Nathan might look like in another two decades after heapings of steroids. Avery wanted to see some gray in the man’s hair, or at the least some sign of age. But ignoring the slight crow’s feet at his eyes, there was little to show Malcolm Dixon had aged past forty.
“Why?” Avery asked.
“Why?” Malcolm laughed, his disbelief obvious. “Is this where I waste precious minutes talking to give Nathan time to arrive? Where my soliloquy tells all so that the hero has time to vanquish the villain?”
“That’s what you are. A psychotic villain who killed his wife and nearly killed his son.”
Malcolm’s eyes flared. He didn’t like the reminder, apparently, though why the truth should hurt, Avery had no idea.
“The woman I killed was not the sweet woman I married.” Malcolm sat down in a chair directly across from Avery. “But then, you know all about that. My son no doubt told you about his horrible upbringing,” Malcolm sneered.
