I Spy a Dark Obsession

by Jo Davis

  Michael nodded, motioning to Kelly with his gun. Inside, a light was on, but there was no movement. The two of them positioned themselves on the other side of the door, and Michael held up a hand, starting the count on three. Two. One.

  It took two solid kicks to break in the door, and then he was in, Blaze and four more agents trailing right after them. Nothing but an empty room greeted them, bed made, the place neat as a pin. The only evidence that anyone had been there was a white sheet of folded paper lying on top of the cheap desk. Michael stalked over, saw his name printed on the outside, whipped it open, and began to read.

  You’re always one step behind, aren’t you, Ross? Did you honestly think I would be politely waiting here when Tio failed to return? I hope he killed your Bastian, and made him suffer before he pulled the trigger. If not, he’ll die yet, screaming in agony—and so will you.

  Crushing the paper in his hand, he stood fighting the overwhelming urge to destroy everything in sight. But that wouldn’t help find the bastard, and it wouldn’t make Bastian recover faster.

  “Michael?” Blaze ventured.

  “It’s a taunt, of course. The one useful thing to glean from it is he doesn’t know for sure whether Tio was successful in killing Bastian, and we’re going to keep it that way. I want a tight lid kept on that information, at least for now.”

  Blaze looked thoughtful. “That’s just good common sense.”

  “Which means Bastian is going to be bound to the estate for a while, even after he recovers. No going out, period.”

  Blaze rolled his eyes. “And he’s going to love that.”

  “He doesn’t have a choice.”

  After the other men had left the small room, Blaze clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get him, Michael,” Blaze said with absolute conviction.

  “Yes. And when we do? He’s going to regret the day he fucked with me and my family.”

  That’s how he viewed Katrina, Bastian, and all his agents, he realized. His family. To love and protect.

  God have mercy on you, Robert. Because that’s His job.

  Not mine.

  Awareness returned by slow degrees.

  Strange silence, punctuated by soft beeping. Weird smells.

  Then he realized he was a person. Alive. So there should be a body attached to his floating brain, right? He tried to wiggle something. Anything. With no results for the longest time. He wanted to cry out, but his mouth refused to work. Where was everyone? Had he been abandoned?

  Or worse . . . was he dead? Was this the afterlife? Was he doomed to have only a consciousness drifting aimlessly in space, unable to cry out? No. He couldn’t bear that. Give him heaven or hell, but not this nothingness.

  “Bastian?”

  Frantic, he tried to find the voice. Where are you? he shouted, but just in his mind. Or so he thought.

  “Easy. I’m here. You’re okay.”

  No, he wasn’t. If he was, he’d be able to—

  A touch, just there. On his arm. Arm? And a gentle hand stroking his hair. So good.

  The touches seemed to spark his nerve endings, and a tiny thread of light awakened his body from his head to his toes. I’m not dead! God, what’s wrong with me?

  With great effort, he concentrated on forming a question. “Wh-what . . .”

  “It’s me, Katrina. You’re at the compound, honey. In the hospital. Do you remember getting shot? Can you open your eyes?”

  He worked at opening his eyes. Remembering could come later, when his body was functioning better. His lids were heavy, but after a few moments, he found himself wincing at bright light, squinting to relieve the pain in his head. To focus.

  “Head hurts,” he informed her. Was that where he had been shot?

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m afraid that’s only the beginning.” A soft hand caressed his face. “Can you see me?”

  Clouds of dark red hair swam in his vision. A beautiful face came into focus. A face dominated by worried blue eyes.

  “Katrina.”

  “Yes.” The blue eyes crinkled in a smile.

  “Don’t . . . remember.”

  “You will—don’t worry. You had surgery and you’re on good drugs.”

  “Tired.”

  “Then sleep. You’re okay now.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  He must’ve slept, because the next thing he knew, he awoke for real, fully aware, with a vague recollection of Katrina being there and talking to him in soothing tones. Had he dreamed her presence out of wishful thinking?

  One thing he hadn’t been dreaming, then or now, was the throbbing agony in his head, torso, and thigh. Three spots of pounding misery, shouting the news to the rest of his body that something awful as fuck had happened. Car wreck? Bar brawl?

  No, wait. Something about Cory.

  He’d been with Cory. In a motel room.

  Shot. Bastian had been shot, and ran. What happened? It was all a jumble in his mind.

  With great effort, he opened his eyes and waited as his surroundings came into focus. Hospital room. Probably at the compound. His gaze strayed to his bedside, where a familiar man was sprawled in a chair, snoring lightly. Bastian had never beheld a more welcome sight.

  “M-Michael.” Jesus, his throat sounded like he’d gargled with asphalt. “Michael?”

  Dark lashes fluttered open, and the man’s eyes widened as he bolted upright. “Thank God you’re awake. How do you feel?” His friend scooted his chair closer, laid a hand on Bastian’s arm.

  “Chewed up and spit out,” he managed. “Hurts.”

  Michael’s expression softened. “I know it does, buddy. I can give you a hit of morphine if you’d like.”

  “Please.”

  The other man picked up a device and punched a button on it. In seconds, Bastian felt the stuff flow through his veins, wrapping him in a nice layer of cotton. With the receding of the pain, the memories returned.

  “Tio,” he gasped. “He was going to kill me.”

  “That’s one asshole who won’t hurt anyone ever again,” Michael growled.

  “He pointed his gun at me, and I heard a gunshot. I thought I was dead.”

  “That was me blowing his head off. And you’re going to be fine.”

  “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I owe you.”

  “Cut that shit out. If I had protected you better, he couldn’t have gotten to you. That’s a mistake I won’t repeat.”

  Bastian started to shake his head and instantly regretted the movement. After the bed stopped spinning, he said, “You can’t protect me. You won’t always be around, and—”

  “Listen to me. I’m going to do a hell of a lot better job because when McKay springs you, you’re coming home with me.”

  “I—what?” He blinked at Michael in confusion.

  “I’m moving you to the estate. I’ve already taken the liberty of moving most of your clothes, and the other stuff you can sort later.”

  His heart stuttered, joy and trepidation surging through him at once. With a dash of irritation joining the party. “Wait. I didn’t agree to this.”

  “Yes, you did, the second I saw you bleeding out and beaten half to death,” he said, voice catching with emotion. “When I realized I could lose you and I knew real, honest-to-God fear for the first time in my life. When I finally understood that you own part of my heart and if I did lose you, I’d never recover.”

  Stunned, Bastian stared at the man who meant more to him than any other and was so afraid he was misunderstanding. Making more out of Michael’s words than his friend intended. Strong fingers enclosed his own, and he looked down at them, wondering if the morphine was tripping him out.

  “I think . . . you’re going to have to spell it out.”

  Michael nodded, expression earnest. “Okay. First, I’m so sorry from the depths of my soul that I hurt you. But I was scared of the fact that I was capable not only of wanting a man sexually, but of having real feelings for him.”

>   “Any man?”

  “No. Just you. I set out to prove what a big stud I am with the ladies, thinking my thing for you was a strange curiosity that would wear off. But that’s the thing about love—it won’t be denied and it doesn’t care about gender.”

  “I—You love me?” he croaked.

  “Yes, dammit! Shit, I suck at this.” He sighed.

  Bastian couldn’t help but smile a little. “You’re doing all right.”

  “There’s something else, though. Or someone else, I should say.”

  “Katrina.” Closing his eyes, he waited for the ax to drop. “Of course, if you two have feelings for each other, it would be the easier choice for you.”

  “What if I don’t have to choose? What if none of us did?”

  That got his attention again. Fired his imagination. He opened his eyes and studied Michael, wondering how many more surprises the man would bestow. “Meaning we all try to make it work together? Katrina mentioned the possibility, but I never thought you’d go for it.”

  “Me, either, but we were both wrong.” Enthusiasm lit his voice. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about the other day, when you all but threw me out. Not that I blamed you.”

  Well, hell. If he’d just heard the man out—but that was in the past. “And?”

  “I know Katrina has feelings for you, and that you two have been getting close. I know that you fucked her in her office.”

  He couldn’t help but flinch. “Should I apologize?”

  “No. She loves you, just as I do. She’s been here, right at your side, for most of the past twenty-four hours. I had to make her go home.”

  They both loved him. He tried to wrap his mind around it. Slowly, happiness began to bloom. “And where’s home for her?”

  “At the estate.” He held Bastian’s gaze.

  All at once, Bastian remembered. “She asked me not to give up on the three of us. But when I asked her who she’d pick if she had to decide between you and me, she couldn’t answer.”

  “Because she couldn’t choose. She told me after. It’s both of us or neither.”

  “I feel the same way,” he said. “Once, I could’ve chosen between you and her, but not anymore. Somehow, she worked her way into my heart and stayed there.”

  “Mine, too.” Michael paused. “What about Cory?”

  “What about him?”

  “You kept seeing that twink,” Michael pointed out, a little sad. “You fucked him even though it wasn’t necessary to go that far for the op, and you kept him around.”

  “I was still raw and I thought I needed to get over you. I figured Katrina was just wishing for a relationship between us all that couldn’t happen. Can you blame me?”

  “No. There’s no point in hashing over that. Just tell me you’re going to stop seeing him and I’ll be happy. And don’t forget the dumbass almost got you killed.”

  “I’m not going to see him anymore, but I did like him.” Michael curled his lip, and Bastian reveled in the man’s unguarded moment of sheer jealousy. Nothing on earth had ever made him feel higher than that single outward sign of possessiveness.

  Definitely not the morphine.

  “How is Cory?” he asked in sudden alarm. “He got away, right?”

  “Yeah. He’s staying in one of the extra living quarters until we get Dietz.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Enough about the twink.”

  “Okay.”

  In spite of all the happy revelations, he yawned. Damn, he was scared he’d wake up later and realize he’d dreamed this conversation.

  “Go to sleep, buddy. You’ve earned the rest.”

  “Michael?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I love you.”

  “I know,” he said gruffly. “Sleep.”

  Bastian smiled and let exhaustion pull him under.

  Katrina walked into Bastian’s hospital room on the third morning following his shooting. His face immediately brightened on seeing her, and her pulse did a funny tango. The man was a jade-eyed, golden-haired god sporting an engaging grin that never failed to make her feel cherished.

  “Hey, beautiful! Is McKay letting me out of here?”

  “Soon. Probably this afternoon.” Leaning over, she gave him a slow, lingering kiss and then took a seat by the bed. “And only because we promised to make you take it easy at home.”

  “I don’t care, as long as I’m out of here. I know I can’t get in yet, but I want to sit by the pool. And drink a beer,” he said, practically drooling.

  “Not until you’re off the pain meds.”

  “Okay, I’m officially off.”

  She laughed. “Doesn’t work that way, champ. If you don’t take your pill, you’ll be crying in that beer in a few hours.”

  “Damn,” he pouted. He squirmed a little, plucking at the sheet on his lap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just uncomfortable.”

  “Why, do you need to use the bathroom?” The catheter had come out yesterday, and he had to use crutches to go anywhere. He still needed help getting on his feet, and the action caused his leg a lot of pain.

  “No.” Two red spots appeared on his cheeks.

  “Are you going to make me play guessing games? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m having a slight problem if you must know. Jesus, is nothing sacred?”

  “What kind of—Oh.” Noting the rigid outline under the sheet, she smiled. “I can help you with that, you know.”

  “How? We’re in a hospital.”

  “A private one, owned by Michael. What’s McKay going to do—throw us out?”

  “Yeah, but . . . what if a nurse walks in?”

  “She’ll walk back out in a hurry, I suppose.” She made a face. “If it’s the same one from yesterday, it’ll be the most exciting thing that’s happened to her all year.”

  His eyes rounded, and she could tell he was getting on board with the idea. “You’re serious.”

  “Very. Here, let Nurse Brandt make an assessment of your condition.” Tugging the sheet from his grasp, she pulled it down and folded it over his knees. The thin gown did nothing to hide the erection making a tent at his groin. Lifting the material, she exposed his rosy cock, the tip weeping tiny pearls. He smelled manly but clean and soapy, and she knew he must’ve had a sponge bath.

  Grasping the base, she bent and licked the droplets, eliciting a swift groan from him. “You’re my captive, you know that?” Another lick. “You can’t go anywhere or do anything to stop me from taking what I want. And make no mistake, I’ve been wanting to taste you again, badly.”

  “Yes.” His eyes rolled in pleasure.

  “Does this turn you on? Knowing we could be caught?”

  “Fuck, yes! Suck me.” He tried to thrust his hips, but winced in pain.

  “No, let me do the work,” she scolded. “Can’t have you aggravating those injuries.”

  She suckled the bulbous head first, tonguing the sensitive slit, catching more drops. She began to take him deeper, making him wet and slippery. Pumped him some at the base as she sucked, driving him insane. Then she swallowed him to the root and manipulated his balls, relishing the velvety sac rolling in her fingers. Loving his moans of pleasure.

  She knew he was close when his balls tightened and his breath came in sharper bursts. He buried a hand in her hair and urged her on, moving his hips as much as he could despite her telling him to be still.

  “Close, baby,” he panted. “Christ, yes! So good.”

  Laving and sucking, she bobbed up and down on him faster, pulled harder. Apparently he liked it a shade rough, because he stiffened and gave a couple of seconds’ warning.

  “Coming!”

  His cock jerked in her mouth and she drank the hot, salty-sweet cum down, not wanting to miss a drop. She continued to work him, bringing him down. Then she licked him clean, released his softening shaft, and replaced his gown.

  “Better?” She grinned at him
and licked her lips.

  “I think you sucked my brains out through my dick.” His head flopped back on the pillows. “Kinda disappointed we didn’t get caught, though.”

  “I knew it! You’re a thrill seeker.”

  “And maybe a bit of an exhibitionist.”

  “There’s always next time,” she suggested. “We can make certain we’re seen, if you want.”

  He looked intrigued. “And who would we let see us? Not Simon or Mrs. Beasley, because eeww.”

  “What about Michael’s head of security at the estate. What’s his name?”

  “John. Yeah, he’s hot—and kinky, I’ve heard.” He said the last on a teasing note.

  “Honestly, does Michael surround himself with any other type than hot and kinky? Besides Simon and Mrs. B.”

  Bastian closed his eyes, and a comfortable silence descended. He was prone to drop off to sleep and would until he regained his strength. She didn’t mind. In fact, she loved sitting with him, keeping him company. In a few minutes, however, he opened his eyes.

  “Can I ask you a question?” He did sound tired, but he was fighting it.

  “Sure.”

  “How is it that you show such a cool, classy exterior and secretly have the soul of a sensualist? Where does that come from?”

  “You mean the soul of a wanton slut?” she countered.

  His lips turned up. “Was trying to be nice.”

  “Don’t knock yourself out on my account.” This was good between them, she decided. There was something about Bastian that made her feel as though she’d known him much longer than she had. They’d been working together for a while now, but lots of people shared a work environment without getting close. But once she and Bastian had really begun to interact on a personal level, the connection had been there, ready and waiting to be nurtured.

  He was still looking at her, waiting for an answer. Watching his reaction, she said, “I have three parents.”

  “You mean your folks divorced and one is a stepparent?” His brows furrowed.

  It was always fun to see people figure out the truth. “No, I mean that I have three parents. One mother and two fathers. Really spiced up those PTA meetings, I can tell you.”