Jack: Grime and Punishment: The Brothers Grime, book 1

by Maxfield, Z. A.

  “Ryan Halloran!” Jack’s voice thundered over the stretch of ground between them. Ryan had reached his car and had a hand on the door latch.

  He turned with a frown on his face.

  “So. I’ll call you, okay?” asked Jack feebly.

  Ryan gave an indelicate snort before he got in his car and slammed the door shut. Jack watched Ryan’s sleek little hybrid drive away.

  Gabe’s new ride pulled up next to the curb where Jack stood. The window on the shiny black beast caught the light like the glint in a predator’s eye. It rolled down as Jack heard the door unlock.

  “That was real smooth, Jack,” Gabe leaned over to tell him. “It’s a wonder you’re not happily married by now.”

  “I told you. It’s complicated.” Jack opened door and climbed back into Gabe’s car. After he seat-belted himself in, he took out his phone and dialed Ryan’s number.

  “Don’t tell me. Are you calling him again?”

  “Yes,” Jack said tightly.

  “Stalker. You’ve either lost your mind or become the most annoying guy ever. Why don’t you wait a week or so? Give the man a break.”

  “He doesn’t need a break. He needs a reason to believe I like him for who he is, not who he resembles.”

  “How much clearer can you make things? What if he’s just not that into you?”

  “Oh, please.” Jack ignored that possibility. “Obviously I just haven’t said the magic words yet.”

  Gabe tried to take Jack’s phone, but Jack clung to it like a limpet. “You’re going to end up on the wrong side of a restraining order.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Just wait.” Gabe pulled into an empty parking space where they could talk. “You don’t do this, Jack. This isn’t you. Where is all this relationship shit coming from?”

  “I don’t know.” Jack finally let go of his phone. Gabe gave it cursory look, thumbing through his call logs. Jack felt embarrassment creep over him. Taken at face value, the number of times he’d called Ryan probably looked excessive.

  “Holy cow.” Gabe checked out Jack’s unanswered text messages. “You really like this Ryan guy that much?”

  “No.” Jack shook his head, and then nodded. “Yeah. Well. I don’t know, do I? We’ve only known each other for a couple days.”

  “So what is all this? Why the hell can’t you let this go?”

  “I had fun with Ryan, Gabe.” Jack unclenched his fists and rubbed his palms over his thighs. “Real fun. Even though every time I looked at him, I remembered all the reasons why I shouldn’t get involved and all the reasons I can’t trust people.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Gabe frowned at him. “Then why—”

  “It made me realize all the ways Nick marked me—not just physically, but all over everything I am. I haven’t felt right, haven’t felt trust, haven’t believed in anything at all since he fucked me over. I think cleaning up that last mess Nick made helped me pull my head out.”

  Gabe peered right into Jack’s eyes. “So. You feel like you’re healing, finally.”

  “Maybe that. Or maybe not. It doesn’t matter, because I’m moving on.”

  “And Ryan made you see all that.”

  “I like who I am when I’m with Ryan.” Jack held his hand out for his phone. “It doesn’t have to mean more than that. I only want the opportunity to find out.”

  “All right.” Gabe handed Jack his phone. “But seriously. If you don’t hear back from him in a couple days, cut your losses, all right? We’ll go out, get drunk, get laid, and forget all about both Nick and Ryan. All right?”

  “It’s a promise.”

  Jack pressed the Call button and waited for Ryan’s voice mail. “Ryan, this is Jack. You ran off before I had the chance to tell you I like you. I want you to go out with me. It has nothing to do with Nick and everything to do with how much fun I have when we’re together. The problem is, I don’t think I’m a lost cause after all. I think I’m well and truly not lost, and if you want to know what it feels like to go out with a guy like that, I’ll be right here. Waiting. As long as it takes.”

  Jack hung up.

  Gabe glanced over at him and back to the road. “That was good,” he said grudgingly.

  Jack shrugged. “It’s funny how easy it is to say what you mean when it’s true.”

  Chapter 20

  By Wednesday, Jack had pretty much lost hope he’d hear from Ryan again. That was the way all the big drama in his life played out. Sometimes he had a breakthrough moment, and where there should have been cheering and a ticker-tape parade, there was only the eternal, endless ticktock of his mother’s ancient analog clocks.

  For some reason, he’d heard nothing from Skippy either, which meant Tasha still roamed free on Jack’s kitchen tiles. She twined around his legs as he opened a can from a freshly purchased supply of cat food. He was her human. The transformation was complete.

  “Skippy’s not answering my texts, Tash. What do you suppose that means? I know he’s been at work.”

  Before Tasha tucked into her grub, she gave Jack a look that said, Skippy, who?

  “He’ll show up tomorrow for sure, because it’s payday. Then he’ll probably collect you.”

  I’m gonna miss you like you were my very own vibrating, foot-warming font of wisdom.

  Tasha’s gray-blue tail waved like a flag.

  A knock on Jack’s front door interrupted his thoughts, and he went to answer. For whatever reason, he wasn’t surprised to find Dave standing there, looking damn uncomfortable. Gabe probably put him up to coming over with an apology.

  “Hey.” Jack opened the door so Dave could enter.

  “Hi.” Dave stepped in. He wasn’t the kind of guy to wring his hands, but the way he kept them in his back pockets, the way he seemed to make a study of the lettering on Jack’s T-shirt, said he was probably feeling like an asshole.

  Jack let him stew.

  “I, uh”—Dave wrapped one hand around the back of his neck—“felt like I ought to come by here and apologize.”

  Jack nodded. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a jealous thing, or… You know. Me and Gabe figured telling Ryan about you and Nick would be a sort of intervention.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And…” Dave swallowed hard. “Fuck it, Jack. Maybe I should have done things differently.”

  Jack toed a spot on the floor where he’d found a hair ball earlier in the day. “You’re probably right.”

  “Anyway. I’m sorry.” Dave finally glanced up, meeting Jack’s gaze. “You want to go get a drink or something?”

  “I—”

  “I don’t mean…a sex thing.”

  Jack took pity on him. “Maybe you can come in and have a drink here. Watch a game?”

  “Yeah.” Dave’s smile looked relieved. “Yeah. Okay. What’s on?”

  “I was getting ready to find something.”

  “All right.” Dave checked his watch. “It’s dinnertime. Should I order pizza?”

  “That would be awesome. I didn’t even shop today, except for cat food. We could invite Gabe and Eddie over, if they’re free. Play a game of cards later?”

  “Perfect.” Dave smiled happily at him.

  “You get pizza; I’ll call the guys.”

  The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Familiarly. Going through the motions, playing cards, drinking, eating pizza and wings, seemed so normal. No one talked about work. No one brought up the past or the pain in it. Even though they were all aware Jack was changing inside, no one asked him about his plans for the future.

  Even Jack wasn’t sure what he planned to do after he said good night to his three best friends.

  Jack only knew how glad he was to have good friends.

  He could build the rest of the life he wanted from a solid place like that.

  * * *

  At around two a.m., Jack’s phone rang. He grappled for it in the dark, dry-mouthed and fuzzy-headed. The number was local but unfamiliar. “Mas
terson.”

  “Hey.” Ryan’s voice.

  “Hey.” Jack sat up.

  “I have a trauma sch-scene I need cleaned up-p.” Ryan talked too loud and slurred his words. Jack could hear ice clink in a glass. Music and talking in the background. “Guy hurled himself onto a bottle of Grey Goose. ’S a fucking mess, man. I need a cleanup on aisle— Hey. What aisle is this?”

  Rust flaked off Jack’s heart as it started beating again. Interested, Tasha crawled over to curl up in the crook of his arm. “How big a team will you need?”

  “Just one guy with a cane and an inscrutable gray cat should do it.”

  “Cat’s borrowed.” Jack stroked the sleek fur between Tasha’s ears.

  “You’ve still got her, though? Cause the purring…that’s gotta be in the contract. We’re gonna need a guy with a cat and a cane, or a cat with a cane and a guy. How much for an awkward, uncoordinated, fuzzy, and purring meow-nage of pure comfort right about now?”

  “Who you calling fuzzy?” Jack smiled into the cat’s reflective glowing eyes. “I’m fucked-up too. I can’t drive like this.”

  “I see a tragic pattern forming.”

  “You are the patron saint of lost causes, after all.”

  “I work for a hospital named after the patron saint of lost causes,” Ryan corrected him. “But I’ve decided to take a few days off. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “You know what? I own my own company, and I can tell everyone to fuck off and die if I want. Especially after today.”

  “I sh-smell road trip.” Ryan nearly choked with laughter. “Vdara in Vegas? It’s a nonsmoking hotel attached to Bellagio. With a spa.”

  “I think—”

  “Aw, man. Don’t thiiiiiink,” Ryan admonished. “Just this once. Don’t think. Let’s just—”

  “Get a cab. I’ll call the airport. We’ll have to fly out of LAX, because SNA is closed.”

  “I don’t have clothes.”

  “I’ll throw enough into a duffel for both of us to get there. We can buy whatever else we need once we—”

  “Christ. When you don’t think, you really do it right.” Jack heard Ryan’s happy laughter. “How about I just come over to sleep, and we drive to Vegas in the morning.”

  “You could do that. By then Skippy will have picked up Tasha, so I won’t have to figure out how to make sure she gets fed.”

  “You’d have just done it, though—gone, without giving it a second’s thought.”

  “With you? Yeah. Hell yeah.”

  Silence. Maybe too much silence?

  Jack gripped the phone. “Are you still there, Ryan?”

  “Won’t I remind you of bad things every day?” Ryan asked.

  “Nah. You remind me of me. How I used to be when I could still imagine good things for myself.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You remind me of when I used to go on dates and make mixtapes. You remind me of when I could still play.” Jack swallowed. “I won’t deny I like how you look. I have a type, and Nick was it, ergo…you, my Irish-by-way-of-Viking-marauders friend, are it as well. But what you remind me of is…better days.”

  “That’s good to know—” Ryan’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I’m going to like reminding you of better days.”

  “I’m going to Vegas, Ryan. I’m going to see a Cirque show and gamble away a whole roll of nickels. I’m going to order irreverent adolescent comedies to watch from bed. I’m going to eat cheese puffs until the sheets turn orange. What do you say?” Jack hoped he’d say yes. “Are you in?”

  “Will we make long, slow, serious love during the commercials?”

  “If you think that’s possible, I’m willing to give it a try. You come too.”

  A long pause. “You said it again.”

  “Yeah. I have a confession to make,” Jack whispered.

  Ryan laughed softly. “Another one?”

  “I’ve known that was a poem all along.”

  Epilogue

  An arm wrapped around Jack’s chest. Considering the first rays of morning light were slanting through the window, having an arm creep around him and a thick cock nudge at his ass was new.

  And oh, so good.

  Silken, lube-slicked fingers found his hole, and he grunted when they slipped inside. Lips nuzzled at his neck.

  Jack rasped out his first words of the morning. “Ah, God. That feels so good.”

  “You like to get fucked?”

  “Yeah.” Jack sighed. “Love it. It’s hard on the body, but…”

  “Maybe we could rig you up a swing in here. Less bending and twisting. Easier on the knees.”

  “Is that my PT talking or my—” Jack pressed his face into the pillow before he could say it.

  “Your what?”

  A particularly fortuitous graze of Ryan’s fingers made it impossible for Jack to think just then. “Boyfriend.”

  “Is that what I am? Am I your boyfriend?”

  “You want to be?”

  Ryan pushed Jack’s leg forward a little, his good leg, the right one, and the blunt head of Ryan’s cock entered Jack’s ass. “Yes. I want to be your boyfriend.”

  “Ah…yeah…whatever. Boyfriend.”

  “Tell me if I put too much pressure on your hips.”

  Ryan, you are clearly not engaged enough. Jack reached back and pulled Ryan closer. “C’mon, Ryan. I’m not going to break.”

  “Uhn…God.” Ryan bit down on Jack’s shoulder and pulled his hips in. Jack let him go as he pushed against Ryan with everything he had. He needed as much of Ryan’s cock as he could get, and he tightened his muscles to squeeze him, even though his lower back protested a little.

  Ryan’s tongue came out to soothe Jack’s bitten shoulder. He nosed beneath Jack’s ear while he lipped Jack’s neck. All the while the flat of his hand strummed Jack’s belly like Jack was an instrument Ryan was mastering, and he’d found a whole new way to nuance his performance.

  Ryan was fast becoming a virtuoso. In fact, he was an overnight goddamned sensation.

  Ryan’s hand covered the casual grip Jack had on his cock, lacing their fingers together. When Ryan’s rhythm quickened, it forced Jack’s cock through their entwined hands. Fresh floods of precum slicked Jack up when Ryan found the perfect angle, and then it was bliss, bliss, bliss.

  A sob of pure relief fell from Jack’s lips when the telltale tightening of his body signaled his point of no return. He let himself go, and Ryan took him over, holding him while he spasmed in Ryan’s arms.

  Right then, Jack had a sudden memory of what it was like to carry the immense weight of his gear. Back at the academy, he’d had to run up flight after flight of stairs as fast as he could, carrying everything until his lungs burned like fire, until his heart felt like it was going to explode.

  Reaching the top meant piercing through all his limitations. He felt like he could drop everything and fly into the sky, into the stars. That day, there had been nothing that couldn’t be his if he’d wanted it badly enough.

  Later, after Jack’s heart rate slowed to a mere gallop, he lay quietly with Ryan’s body curved like a big spoon against his back. Jack reached behind him to pull Ryan’s face alongside his so he could rub their bristly cheeks together. If Ryan felt the wetness of Jack’s tears, he didn’t mention it.

  Jack reached for comfort, and Ryan gave it until he deftly turned it into tickling and more foreplay. Ryan declared he was going to monogram Jack’s back with bite marks, and Jack let him because it was so goddamn good to feel Ryan smile against his skin.

  “Stop,” Jack said into his pillow. Ryan hovered over his back, panting hot breaths on his skin. “Were you serious about Vegas?”

  “Sure.” Ryan licked a trail from the hollow between Jack’s shoulder blades up to his hairline, giving Jack chills.

  Jack’s whole body drew up tight. “Cut. It. Out.”

  “Oh, all right.” A loud smacking noise accompanied one last kiss. Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell
something?”

  “What, like something burning?” Jack rolled out of bed and reached for his sleep pants before Ryan could get a hand on him to stop him. Despite his physical limitations, he was heading for the bedroom door before Ryan even had a chance to swipe himself clean.

  “Wait.” Ryan reached for his own sleep pants. “It’s coffee I smell.”

  Alarmed, Jack followed his nose into the kitchen. He found Skippy, Gabe, and Dave sitting at his kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand.

  Jack slapped his hand over his heart when it seemed like it was going to burst from his chest. “What the ever-loving fuck is going on here?”

  Skippy raised his hand like he was in school. “I let myself in ’cause it’s payday. I came to see how you did with Tasha.”

  The little traitor was twined around Skippy’s feet, purring. The least she could do was meow so Jack would know people were in his house getting comfortable, drinking his coffee. “Some superspy cat you turned out to be, Natasha Badinov.”

  Skippy smiled at that. “Maybe she’s a double agent?”

  “And what the hell, Gabe?”

  Gabe shrugged. “Dave and Eddie’s cars were here.”

  “And I need to apologize to Ryan.” Dave glanced up at the ceiling. “I guess.”

  Ryan sauntered into the kitchen with his usual smile in place. He looked sleep-tossed and sexy. Freshly kissed.

  “For what?” Ryan asked.

  Four pairs of eyes—Jack included his own because Ryan wasn’t someone he could easily take his eyes off—gaped at Ryan.

  Ryan turned after he’d poured his coffee. “What?”

  Dave was the first to speak. “I’m sorry I was an ass.”

  “Okay,” said Ryan.

  That was it. For a while no one spoke.

  Dave looked over at Jack. “We good?”

  “We’re good.” Jack wanted his own cup of coffee, but if he turned his back to get it, they’d see the bite marks still throbbing on his skin. “Me and Ryan are going to Vegas for a few days.”

  “Hey, I went to Vegas last weekend.” Skippy beamed at them. “I won a thousand dollars at the Hard Rock.”