by Anne Russo
“Please, Adam, we need to talk.” A stray breeze came and went, smelling of early spring, blowing her bangs, disarming him with how earnest she seemed.
“About?”
“Ian.” She patted the spot he’d vacated.
Adam sighed, not wanting to discuss Ian in the slightest, but he sat anyway. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I understand why you’d think what Ian did was to be malicious. But, there’s more to it than that.”
“He lied to my face and tortured me for three days. I don’t care to know what you’d consider malicious.”
She laughed. “I can see why Ian likes you. And, he does, like you. As much as he likes anyone, that is.”
Adam bit back a sarcastic snort. “Hard to believe.”
“You like him too.”
Adam’s eyes widened, cheeks burning. “Care to explain what you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Only that you shouldn’t keep running from him.”
“Funny, considering all he does is push me away.”
“So what?” She gave a crooked grin. “Push back.”
“And what will that do?”
Mei patted his knee as she stood. “I don’t know. You’re stuck here, regardless. You might want to make the best of it.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him.
“Honestly, you’re both just too damn stubborn to see you have more in common than not. Anyway, just think about it, will you?”
Point made. Mei offered another encouraging pat before departing, leaving Adam behind to mull over her words, unsettled.
Chapter 7
Later that evening, Adam knocked on Ian’s door. Ian answered, sighing, looking displeased by the interruption.
“What do you want?”
Adam opened his mouth but lost his words, distracted by discovering Ian shirtless in front of him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen enough of Ian’s body to know that the man kept himself in impeccable shape. Yet the scars Ian carried were revealed to him close up. A gruesome collection of the many near misses Ian experienced. It humbled Adam, seeing the visual proof of the life Ian had led.
“Is there something you want?” Ian repeated, leaning against the door frame, his irritation obvious.
“I wanted to talk to you for a minute, but I can leave if you’re, uh, busy—” Adam turned to leave, but Ian stopped him.
“No, fine, come in,” he insisted, with a drawn out sigh as he held the door open. He swiped a black tank top off the bed and slid it on over his head, covering up.
Adam stepped inside, taking in Ian’s sparsely furnished room. Devoid of any intimate touches save for the piles upon piles of books that filled every corner. Every available surface was covered in books, from the cramped desk to the bedside table’s neat pile. There were several bookshelves bowed with the weight of rows upon rows of thick stacks. Adam glanced over at Ian, arms crossed over his chest, staring at his feet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ian didn’t care for other people in his personal space.
Still, it drew Adam’s curiosity. Those overflowing bookcases. A cursory peek showed that Ian had a wide variety of interests. There were many massive biographies and several enormous history books among slim volumes of philosophy and poetry and many classic novels.
Everything arranged in no discernable order. It struck Adam, the utter loneliness of Ian’s life. A life where books were all he had received to explore his knowledge and interest in the world. Adam’s heart hurt for him. He had to steel his resolve, reminding himself of Ian’s capacity for cruelty.
“I’m exhausted,” Ian interjected, startling him from his reverie. “Can this wait until morning?”
Adam shifted away from the bookshelf and toward Ian, for the first time noticing how his usual straight posture slumped in defeat. Adam tried to gather his thoughts, but words failed him. He drew a deep inhale, trying again.
“Why me?” Adam asked, lifting his bandaged arms out for Ian, wincing from the slight movement. It pushed him on, his voice steadier. “Why me, Ian?”
“Why you what?” Ian responded, making no secret of his irritation.
Adam refused to let his ill manner stop him from pursuing the matter. Adam turned his arms over and lifted his eyes to meet Ian’s own, making his message plain. “None of the others have these,” he noted how Ian’s jaw clenched in warning, but he continued undeterred. “Only you and I. Why is that?”
Ian released a lungful of air. The room walls were closing in as if they were circling the other without moving from their fixed spots.
“You needed it.”
Adam frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get,” Ian answered, harshly enough to make Adam step back.
The air crackled, static and hot. Ian shivered; he looked desperate to have Adam anywhere but near him. Ian headed for the door. As dismissive an action as any, but Adam ignored the not so subtle hint. He demanded answers. Ian had mutilated him, tortured him for a reason, and Adam wasn’t moving until Ian explained. After six months of lies at worst and half-truths at best, he deserved at least that much. Ian was going to have to throw him out. And judging by the tense and stony way Ian glared at him, tossing him out on his ass remained a distinct possibility.
“I’m not leaving until you answer me.”
Ian exhaled, rolling his eyes. He pushed the door closed with the tip of his boot. His shoulders slumped in defeat. The gesture was so lonely and desolate that Adam’s animosity abated.
Ian took his time approaching. “I could make you leave,” he challenged, and any threat made by a man like Ian ought to have caused Adam to turn heel and run.
Instead, Adam stood his ground. Things had changed since they had left him handcuffed to a chair. Ready to rip himself apart to get free. The fear he grasped, the power it held when fed, and he didn’t fear Ian, he pitied him.
“You won’t.”
They were at an impasse. Adam glanced around Ian’s room, wondering if Ian’s secrets rested in the thousands of pages before him. A clue to help make sense of the real Ian and not the mask he showed the rest of the world. So much of Ian confounded him, intrigued and repulsed him in equal measure.
Ian moved closer, careful as he ran a finger over the bandages. His touch was so gentle the caress made every hair on Adam’s body stand up in response. His legs heavy, rooted to the floor, were shockingly aware of his heartbeat’s quickening from Ian’s mere proximity.
“I inherited most of these.”
“Huh?” Adam startled when Ian broke the silence.
“The books. I sort of wound up with them after Rhys died.” Ian paused as if only now aware he was touching him far more intimately than he meant to. He coughed, putting a few feet of much needed distance between them.
“Have you read them all?”
“Most of them,” Ian admitted. “Well, at first, Rhys forced me. But now, I still read them searching for something, answers, I guess.”
“Answers to what?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes it’s like I have my answer, just not the question.”
“Life in a nutshell. Answers and no questions.”
“Perhaps it’s better to stay blind,” Ian shuddered as if someone had walked over his grave.
“That’s ridiculous, or you’d have gotten rid of them by now.”
Ian chuckled, sounding amused. “You’re right. The books kept me out of some trouble, at least—Rhys’s way of pushing me to become a more well-rounded person. I mean, he used to say he’d make me a better man than him, even if it killed us both.”
“What a lovely sentiment. Was the handcuff trick his idea? Torture to build character? Well, did it work? Are you a better man than him?”
Ian blinked, taken aback by the comment. “No, not yet. But, you’re right, Rhys gave me that same test the day I turned eighteen. During the five years prior, I spent every day pushing myself to be that man in his eyes
—”
“Hold on. Five years? Are you telling me you started doing this at thirteen?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ, Ian. Do you’ve any idea how insane that sounds?”
Ian’s jaw tensed. “You’re getting off track. What I’m saying is that regardless, he still saw some weakness left in me. How afraid I still was of the pain, death, darkness itself. It was a rough lesson, but necessary.”
“You believe that, don’t you? That you were helping me. Like Rhys helped you.”
Ian cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s key you understand the pain for what it represents. That suffering is the one thing that stands between you and death. Once you accept that, you welcome it, depend on it. The pain isn’t the enemy. It’s when it stops that you need to worry.”
“Ah, so you want me alive?”
Ian’s brow furrowed. “My responsibility is to keep everyone here alive.”
“Yes, but they want to be here. I don’t. Hell, you don’t want me here either.”
“You’re right. I didn’t want you here, no. You aren’t like them, but I’ve seen indications of what you could be if you let yourself.”
“And what is that?”
“Strong,” Ian admitted, before adding, “tough.”
Adam scoffed, taken aback by the praise. “I’m none of those things.”
“You are,” Ian insisted.
Adam searched his eyes, unsure if he were placating him or not. “It’d take more than a three day stint tied to a chair. I’d have to let you teach me everything you know.”
“Everything?”
The question sent a shudder up Adam’s spine, one he tried in vain to repress. The quiet implication behind one single word.
Adam flushed, glancing away before turning back. “Yes,” he conceded, voice breaking. “Everything.”
“You’ve no clue what you’re asking.”
“I don’t care. I don’t have anyone else I can trust.”
“And you want to trust me?” Ian questioned with a half-laugh, one that sounded choked, bitter. “After what happened?”
Adam shrugged, still searching for answers. “I have little choice. Do I?”
* * * *
Ian joined Adam, where he stood. Despite Katherine’s warning to keep his distance, reaching for him instead.
Ian was startled to find his hand cupped around that ridiculous, gorgeous face. A lazy thumb dragged over the curve of his jawline. Ian stood frozen. Staggered Adam was letting him touch him, he kept expecting him to move away. Instead, Adam only stood there, waiting. Their gazes met and held, time stilled. In that moment of suspension, something shifted. Ian surged forward until their bodies were mere inches apart.
“What are we doing?” Adam murmured in the space left between as he wet his lips, eyes wide, more inquisitive than alarmed.
Ian’s heart cracked open at the sight, that earnestness, even after what he’d endured at his hands no less. Ian swallowed back the taste of his bitterness. Katherine’s words sharp and stern, lingering there in the back of his mind. He could see it now, the traces, the faint ghostly image of Rhys stamped there. Rhys, whose memory only reminded him of his failures, his inability to live up to his expectations. Ian’s hand slid away. Adam’s brow furrowed, perplexed by the swift change in Ian’s demeanor. Eyebrows knitted to a point as he searched Ian’s stony face for answers.
“Ian?”
Ian dragged his attention toward him, clearing his throat. “Nothing,” he answered, struggling to control the tremor in his voice. “We’re not doing anything.”
Adam frowned. He took a cautious step, two to where Ian had retreated, hoping physical distance was enough to keep him at bay. But Adam followed him.
“So that’s it,” Adam persisted. “We’re done with this conversation now? Because you say so?
Ian folded his arms over his chest, a useless barrier as Adam took another step toward him but paused as if catching the underlying warning in Ian’s expression.
Adam sighed, glancing at the carpet, and when he looked up, the light in his eyes had dimmed with disappointment. Ian’s heart clenched and unclenched. The unwelcome sensation grew as Adam approached, leaving Ian nowhere to run.
The heat between them was as exhilarating and as it was draining. Ian wanted to run away while simultaneously pulling him close. Left floundering and lost in the bitterness of Adam’s questions. His guilt over his part in the answer, his complicity a slow and terrible burn.
Ian held out a hand to stop him. “You should go. It’s late, and we’re both tired.”
Adam opened his mouth to argue, but instead of pursuing the matter, he nodded once and headed for the door. Ian let out a quiet sigh of relief, relief that shattered when Adam paused and turned to face him. There were deep worry lines around his eyes as he screwed up his nerve to ask.
“Did Katherine say something?”
Ian startled, unable to answer, taken aback by Adam’s awareness.
Adam nodded, pushing a hand through his ruffled hair, smiling, but the smile didn’t match the wretched look on his face. “Right. Well, then. Good night, Ian,” he said, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
* * * *
Over the next few days, there was a flurry of activity. Ian had taken Adam’s words to heart as Adam’s training sped up in earnest. During the day, Adam followed each request to the letter. At night, grateful to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, exhausted. Adam figured the busier, the better since he didn’t have time to dwell, and besides, his arms were still healing. Slower than he liked, and even the act of lifting them was excruciating—a struggle to fight through the discomfort. Still, he forged ahead. Adam remained determined that neither Mei nor anyone would be able to report back to Ian that he complained.
Speaking of Ian, Adam’s kept drifting back to that near kiss, dwelling on it more and more. It’d be one thing to turn his fate over to Ian. Not that he had much choice in the matter. But extending that choice to something more personal and physical made Adam uneasy. Still, Ian’s attraction was one thing. Ian could even want him and despise him as a person. Most days, Ian acted as if he did, a point he made apparent by disappearing and leaving Mei and the others in charge of his training.
The word around the mansion was that Ian was closing in on a target he’d been pursuing for over a year. One that kept eluding his grasp. Michael Grady. A big time drug smuggler and ruthless enforcer, Grady had people in all five boroughs working for him throughout his vast criminal enterprise. He sustained his fearsome reputation by being brutal in his methods and notorious for dispatching his enemies in a variety of heinous and inventive ways. Many wound up in pieces spread over the tristate area.
Adam was in the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich when Mei strolled into the room. He mumbled a hello while shoving half his lunch into his mouth. He was ravenous after spending six hours letting Kalifa beat him black and blue.
“I thought our date was for one?” He swallowed around a mouthful, checking the time; he’d promised to meet Mei for a run after lunch.
“Sorry, handsome, not today. Come with me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re fine,” she soothed as she tried to assuage his worries. “Family meeting.”
Adam followed, the rest of the group trickling in from various locations. He took a seat and kept his eye out for Ian, who appeared with Hector and Kalifa in tow. Ian didn’t waste any time, forging straight ahead once he had everyone’s attention.
“Promising intel came in on Grady. Since this may be an opportunity we won’t get again, we need to work fast.” He gestured to Mei, who had Vince and Regan seated to her left and right. “You three are with me.”
Next, he turned to Adam. “Adam, you’ll stay here with Kalifa and Hector. What they say goes until I return. Is that understood?”
Adam opened his mouth to protest, but Ian cut him off before getting a word out.
“I’m not debating you. I’m telling you. E
veryone else, two hours.”
The room erupted in a flurry. When Ian gave orders, everyone else jumped. Everyone but Adam still seething over the casual way Ian dismissed him.
“Can I speak to you for a moment?” Adam asked, breaking through the commotion.
Ian checked that they were alone first before nodding, looking reluctant at the prospect. “You have thirty seconds. What is it?”
“I want to come with you guys.”
Ian exhaled a shaky breath before responding. “You’re staying right here.”
“I can help. I want to help.”
“You’re not ready for this. Now quit arguing with me and do what I tell you.”
“How do you know unless you take me?”
“I don’t have time for this,” Ian muttered, pushing past him. “If you want to get yourself killed, fine, but not on my watch.”
“You can’t ignore me forever,” Adam called after him.
In response, Ian paused mid-step. Adam waited for him to turn back, yell at him, deny his words, offer something even if it was a cruel insult. Instead, Ian stiffened his shoulders and hurried from the room. As if determined to do just that.
* * * *
They had been out here the better part of a day, stuck on this rooftop. No sign of another living soul. Let alone Grady. Regan, on the opposite building’s rooftop, confirmed the same was correct at the back entrance.
“Maybe we have faulty intel,” Mei mused from Ian’s side.
Ian paused in the middle of his aimless pacing to find Mei, eyeing him with a curious expression.
“We’ll come back,” Mei offered.
Ian shook off the suggestion. “No, I’m not leaving until I at least know where he went.” He glanced over at the empty building before turning his attention back to Mei. “I’m going in.”
“Are you serious? You’ve no idea what you’re walking into,” Mei protested, attempting to reason with him.
Ian ignored the comment, sprinting for the stairs as Mei bolted after, blocking his escape.
“Just tell me why the sudden death wish,” Mei insisted.
Ian reared as if she had struck him. “What the hell does that mean?”
