by Anne Russo
Adam floundered, unsure. “I’m not near drunk enough for this,” he sighed.
Ian flashed a crooked half-smile, a casual gesture that made Adam’s knees weak. “Well, let’s get another drink and see where the night leads.” Ian agreed as he guided Adam back to the bar, hand resting low on his back.
Once at the bar, he surprised Adam, handed him a martini, and announced he needed to leave. “I’ll be back soon. Wait here,” Ian explained before disappearing into the crowd.
Alone, Adam sulked while cheerful couples twirled each other around the dance floor. Adam swallowed the rest of his martini in two large gulps and wasted no time procuring a third.
Afterward, retreating to an unoccupied corner to ruminate in peace. Adam was surprised when after several minutes of sulking he detected someone else, stepping in close.
“You look as bored as I feel.”
Adam turned, startled to discover a striking blonde woman in her mid-thirties, in a black cocktail dress.
“I’m Chloe,” she introduced, bright red lips curving over shiny white as she offered her hand.
“Jason Suffield,” he returned, shaking it.
“Are you with someone?” Chloe asked, sipping on the cosmopolitan she carried.
“I’m not sure,” Adam answered. “I’ve misplaced my date, or rather, he misplaced me.”
Adam caught the eyebrow that shot up at his date’s genderization, but she made a quick recovery. “Well, he must be a real brute to leave someone as devastating as you to your own devices. Anyone could snatch you up.”
Adam blushed at the compliment, changing the subject. “Are you here with your husband?” Adam gestured to the massive ring on her finger.
Chloe frowned, nary a wrinkle on her near flawless face. “It seems I’ve been misplaced as well,” she admitted. “I need another. You?”
“Absolutely. “
An hour and a half and several martinis later, Ian found Adam and Chloe, a drink away from being drunk. It had been a while since Adam had enjoyed someone’s company so much. He even enjoyed the way she flirted by running her manicured fingernails over his hand. Her eyes were a chilling white blue he found alluring.
He’d forgotten Ian’s existence until an ominous shadow fell over him. Adam turned in his seat to find him beside him, glaring.
Chloe broke the tension by surveying Ian with an appreciative eye. “You must be Jason’s phantom date.”
“Will Mason,” Ian answered, demeanor changing as he shook her hand.
“Chloe Delgado. I have to confess I thought you might be a figment of dear Jason’s colorful imagination.”
“It’s quite colorful, isn’t it?” Ian returned, studying Adam’s face intensely. “I suppose I ought to thank you for keeping my date company.”
He rested his hand on the back of Adam’s neck, tightening his grip, making Adam wince. “Forgive me. I ran into a few associates though I’m glad to see you had fun without me.”
“Yeah, well, you just left me,” Adam protested as Ian hauled him off his stool. Adam’s legs buckled, attempting to stand, a sign he’d exceeded his limit.
Chloe smiled. “We might have been overserved,” she mused playfully.
“Yes, I can see that,” Ian replied, holding Adam steady with one arm while reaching for his wallet with the other. “Thank you again, but we need to be leaving.”
Chloe stopped him. “Oh, no. My treat,” she insisted, rising to press a quick kiss to Adam’s cheek. Leaving behind another warm cloud of musky perfume as she stepped back. “You be good, Jason Suffield. Don’t let this one give you too much trouble,” she added, making eye contact with Ian.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Ian’s tone dripped with disapproval as he led an unsteady, sulky Adam from the room.
* * * *
Ian hadn’t spoken a single word to him since they had left the party. Adam sulked, drunk, and disappointed from the passenger seat as Ian drove. One hand on the wheel, the other draped out the open window blasting frigid air. Adam shivered, striving to get warm, determined to suffer in silence. He’d freeze to death before he asked Ian to roll up his window.
“Why did you bring me, anyway?”
Ian threw him a sideways glance before focusing his attention back on the road. Adam caught the way his jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Are you ignoring me?”
“You’re drunk.”
“Your point?”
Ian ignored the question, redirecting the conversation instead. “Tell me about Chloe Delgado.”
“Why? Why the hell do you care about her?” Adam stopped, stunned as realization struck. “She’s a target of yours?”
“Ours,” Ian answered.
“Why would anyone want her dead?” Adam questioned, not at all put off by Ian’s one sentence answers.
Ian sighed before he continued, as if not sure what might set Adam off again. “Not dead, not yet anyhow,” he clarified. “Let’s just say she has a lot of not so gracious friends in the business.”
“What business is that?”
“Money,” Ian answered without missing a beat.
Adam let out a loud dramatic sigh, resting his head against his elbow. “So, I was bait,” Adam muttered, nose wrinkled with distaste. “Why couldn’t you just tell me that?”
“Because it had to be natural, believable, although I counted on you being sober enough to recall tonight’s events.”
“She complained about her husband. I complained about you.” Adam detected the slight rise of a dark eyebrow from the corner of his eye, letting him know he had Ian’s focus.
“I’m sure you put on quite the performance. Good thing, I’ll hear it for myself.”
Ian removed something about a dime’s size from his lapel without taking his eyes off the highway.
“Wait, you had me recorded this whole time?”
Ian shrugged, sliding the device into his pocket. “Sorry, doctor. If it helps, I also planted one on Ms. Delgado while we said our goodbyes.”
Adam protested but stopped himself. “You know what? Never mind. I’m not in the least bit surprised. Now can you please do me a fucking favor and roll up your goddamn window before I freeze to death?”
Ian did so and also turned up the heat. They sat in silence as Adam stewed, and Ian ignored him, eyes trained on the road, hands as steady as ever.
Each lost in their respective thoughts.
* * * *
They didn’t arrive back at the estate until near two in the morning. Besides, the odd dozen guards circling the grounds, the mansion remained quiet. Together, they rode the elevator down to the apartment.
“You were making that same face the first time I saw you,” Ian remarked, once the doors closed shut behind them.
Adam startled; surprised Ian was speaking to him since up until now he’d ignored him. “You mean when you put a gun to my head?” Adam griped, still upset.
Ian snickered in return. “No, from before—the elevator.”
It took Adam’s intoxicated brain a second to process and relive the memory. His stomach somersaulted, recalling the blatant way Ian had checked him out, studying him much the same way he did now, eyes focused and direct. The intensity of his gaze was so blinding, Adam was forced to turn away.
“You looked as if you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“Well, it was a shitty night that hasn’t quite ended yet,” Adam grumbled.
Ian cracked an honest to God smile in response, taken Adam aback by the switch in his temperament. “Let me least make tonight up to you. Have a drink with me?” Ian stepped forward, crowding his space—instant shivers racing up Adam’s spine from his nearness. He stood too close now, close enough where Adam had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“Tempting, but I’m sure I’m still drunk.”
“What’s one more?” Ian mused as he took Adam’s hand, rubbing his knuckles.
That touch a
lone made Adam’s knees weak, and he hated himself for it. Why couldn’t he breathe when they were this close? Adam opened his mouth to argue only for the opening elevator doors to interrupt him.
“Just one. In honor of the tux, if nothing else.” Ian stepped off and extended his hand.
Adam took a tentative step forward and accepted the gesture, following him through the hallway to the dim lit living room. Not a single soul in sight. Ian released his hand as he headed over to the bar. Adam drew in the scene from the entryway as Ian hit a light switch. The electric fireplace roared to life, casting a seductive glow over the apartment.
“Vodka, all right?”
“Yes,” Adam replied, though hesitantly.
Adam wasn’t sure what to expect from Ian next, and being drunk only made deciphering the answer harder. Adam was considering the implications of both the setting and the drink when Ian came back to his side and handed him a glass.
“Come sit with me. We should talk.”
Adam hesitated. “Is my virtue still safe?”
The corners of Ian’s mouth lifted. “As safe as it ever was.”
The answer did little to settle Adam’s nerves, but he followed him to the love seat and sat.
“You can relax. All I want right now is a chance to know you better,” Ian explained as he sipped his drink.
Adam choked, taken aback. “Funny considering you haven’t been receptive to me before tonight. Why the interest in me now?”
“Maybe I wanted to be sure.” Ian’s ever watchful eyes were probing, searching. Adam tried to hold his stare but couldn’t. He busied himself, gulping another sip, coughing as the alcohol burned.
“Of what?” Adam asked, curious.
“If you were someone worth taking an interest in.”
Adam’s head swirled with what Ian meant: a trainee, a brother, or something else altogether. He searched Ian’s eyes, but found nothing. Ian sat there looking composed, one leg balanced on his knee, and his arm strung relaxed over the sofa’s back, in the fireplace’s soft orange glow. In that suit, he was one of the most striking men Adam had ever seen. And Adam was drawn to him in ways never experienced before with anyone, man or woman. No matter how close, he needed to be closer, like the pull of two opposite magnets.
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“The man you wanted to dance with—tell me about him,” Ian responded, taking Adam aback by the question’s directness.
“How’d you know I was thinking of someone in particular?” Adam questioned, cautious, face burning.
“Call it a hunch.”
“Nothing, no one,” Adam answered before gulping down more of his drink.
“Hmm,” Ian mused. “You’re usually a better liar.”
Adam studied Ian’s face, wondering if he meant it as a tease or if he was hoping to obtain a rise out of him. Either way, Adam refused to rise to the bait.
“Fine, my freshman year roommate. I wouldn’t call it serious, but it meant something at least for a year. Anyway, I met someone else, a woman, and we never spoke again.”
“And never anyone since?”
Adam blinked, unsure. “What do you mean?”
Ian took another casual sip of his drink, directing his question to the bottom of his glass. “Another man. Was he the only one who’s captured your attention? Or have there been others?”
He lifted his gaze to Adam’s own. Adam was dumbfounded, desperate to gauge the reason for this newest round of questioning. Adam couldn’t get a read on Ian’s intentions. However, the intrigued spark in his eyes told a different story, one that sent Adam’s heart and mind racing, hesitant to continue. The copious amounts of alcohol made deciphering difficult.
“There have been others.” His imagination spun into overdrive. A hot flush broke across his skin at the confession. Was Ian inching closer with each passing second? His hand nearer to his own? The walls, the air far too heavy for his liking. A hot flush broke across his skin at the confession.
“Well, you’re certainly a lot more interesting than one would assume at first glance.”
“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” Adam responded, far too intoxicated for this conversation’s direction.
Far too drunk, period. Adam tried to gather his thoughts as the world tilted, vision tunneling in and out. Something was wrong. He tried to tell Ian, who sat there, fading in and out, hazy around the edges.
“Ian?” Adam tried to get his attention, but the words came out garbled and senseless. “My drink—”
Ian moved to take the glass before it had a chance to tumble from his hand, and stood. Adam sank back into the sofa, unable to move. Consciousness sliding farther and farther out of reach. Ian leaned over with flickers of guilt in his eyes. He brushed Adam’s hair back and told him to sleep. And sleep he did and without dreams.
Chapter 6
The pain hit an instant before awareness did—a slow, pounding ache spreading across his skull. Adam struggled to move his head, far too heavy to lift. He gagged as the unpleasant taste of bile burned, causing him to sputter and cough. In desperate need of water, his throat bone dry with thirst. Adam tried to search within his awakening memory for what had transpired. And for a blissful instant, assumed he was waking up with one hell of a nightmare hangover.
Adam dragged his eyes open, testing out limbs that declined to cooperate, unable to move a muscle. Horrified, he came awake with a frightful start. His body snapped forward, and he was astonished to find himself handcuffed to a chair bolted to the floor, still dressed in his tux. He jerked against his constraints, crying out as sharp metal bit into his skin, making him bleed.
“Better save your strength.”
Adam’s attention flew in the voice’s direction, located somewhere in the room’s dark. There Ian stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, studying him with hooded, unreadable eyes.
The room they were in was little more than a windowless cell, stripped of furnishings, save the chair—the entire place from floor to ceiling stark, featureless and gray.
“You lying piece of shit! What the hell is this?” Adam continued tugging against restraints that refused to budge. In despair, he slumped forward, groaning in helpless frustration at the exertion.
Ian shook his head in warning. “Don’t do that. I’m serious. You need to save your strength.”
“For what? What are you planning on doing to me!?” Adam shouted, hysteria taking control. “Let me go right now!”
Ian stepped closer, close enough to rest his hands over Adam’s thighs, pressing him into his seat, his stare unrelenting as he met with Adam’s hostile, defiant glare and refused to budge.
“I want you to listen and listen well. You’re the only one keeping you here.”
Adam jerked away. But Ian held his eye until the seriousness of his words registered, his hold tightening.
“What are you saying? Is this—this a test?” Adam stuttered in dawning horror.
Ian ignored the question, continuing, patiently. “I hope you were paying attention when we discussed restraints.” Ian pushed off him, straightening to his full height, towering over Adam like a looming shadow.
Adam shuddered. “No. God, no, Ian. You can’t be serious.”
He didn’t want to be alone in this dank hell hole for hours. Maybe a day or two. Indeed, no longer than that? A thousand and one questions ran through his terrified mind in a matter of seconds. Each one filled him with further dread.
Ian remained calm, too calm, as he lifted his forearms to expose the mangled, puckered lines of intersecting scars. The marks from where the jagged metal had once torn and ripped open his flesh.
“You’ve seen these before,” he stated as if discussing the day’s events. “Now you know how I got them, how I earned them. It’s your turn to do the same.”
Adam’s color drained to a shade beyond white, resigned to his defeat as realization set in, and hope fled.
“It won’t be easy,” Ian continued, fa
r too consoling for Adam’s liking. “It will hurt more than you’re imagining, but it’s necessary. Trust me, you either do this, or I’ll save you the trouble and end you right now.”
“I—Ian, I can’t do this, I can’t,” Adam protested, hoping to make one last effort to reason with him.
“You don’t have a choice.” Ian turned to leave, ending the conversation. He stopped at the exit, flicking off the lights and plunging the room into total darkness.
“Good luck,” Ian added before the door closed shut behind him.
* * * *
Ian rechecked his watch for the millionth time. Whole lifetimes ticking away with each breath exhaled, the steady thrum of guilt itching along his spine. An emotion he was careful to skirt around, desperate not to poke at it or examine the feeling too closely.
He focused on Adam, locked in the other room, drugged, and bewildered. Make or break time. And despite his initial misgivings, Ian was far from ready to part with him, a sentiment shared by the majority of the group, who’d welcomed Adam into their fold as if he’d always belonged. Thus, Ian wasn’t the least bit surprised when by hour twelve, Mei came downstairs seeking answers.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest.
“Do I have a choice?” he grumbled, turning back to the locked and bolted door in front of him. Imagining how Adam was, how terrified and overwhelmed he’d be by the task before him. Though not yet frightened enough to maim himself for life.
“Do you?” she countered. “Have a choice, or are you being a dick for funsies?”
“Stay out of it, Mei,” he snapped, turning to face her.
“No,” she fired back, eyes blazing.
Their fire brought back his first memory of her. Ian had never seen anything like her, a rough and tumble tomboy with flawless cheekbones, standing all five foot two. Mei had taken out a man twice her size with a single shot to the jaw. Ian watched, impressed as she stepped over the guy as if he were little more than a petty nuisance. Right away, he decided that she was for him and not one day since did he regret his decision. It’d been her fearlessness he admired most. A fearlessness he admired now, even when she dared question him.
