Give and Take (Ties That Bind Book 1)

by Claire Cullen

  Sam’s free hand caught his before he’d even got halfway, gently pulling his hand away and holding it between them.

  “Nice try, Drew. If you don’t want to talk, we won’t talk.”

  “I was thinking there were more fun things we could do.”

  Sam’s warm steady gaze held his, his firm grip on Drew’s hand not letting up.

  “Oh, there are. But not if it’s just a smokescreen to stop me looking deeper. Fooling around with someone who won’t tell me the first real thing about themselves, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

  He held Drew’s hand in his for a moment longer, powerful fingers tense against Drew’s skin. When he released him, Drew stayed frozen, hand in midair, feeling the loss of Sam’s touch.

  Chapter Seven

  The next week was almost a letdown considering the drama of the previous. He went back to work, still healing. Neither of his employers were pleased at the idea of him serving customers with a black eye, but when he told them what happened, they were understanding. Sandra, the manager at the diner, let him switch to washing dishes for the week. Alan, at the bar, had joked he added character to the establishment and gave some well-meant advice about staying safe in the city. He walked home the longer route, along the main streets, and he didn’t encounter his attackers again. That, more than anything, told him it was just a random occurrence.

  He and Sam were back to running into each other at odd hours, but now they made a point of stopping to talk and sharing a meal now and then. Matt called over once during the week but then seemed to disappear again.

  It was Friday afternoon when Sandra called him into the back. She didn’t beat around the bush.

  “I’m sorry, Drew. It isn’t working out. Here’s your paycheck for all your hours worked this week.”

  She handed it to him in an envelope with a nervous smile.

  “I… I see. I mean, I know I didn’t get off to a great start coming in all bruised up my second week.”

  “No, no,” she said, “that wasn’t—” She stopped herself, pursing her lips. “It didn’t come from me, Drew. It came from the owner. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks for giving me a chance, Sandra.”

  He didn’t linger, grabbing his jacket, and setting off home. As soon as he opened the door, he knew he wasn’t alone. Sam was working a shift so the presence of someone in the apartment had him on edge, one hand on his cell phone, the other on the apartment door, ready to take off if he was right, if it was Russell—

  “Hey.” Sam stuck his head around the corner, giving him a puzzled stare. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

  He wandered over to the couch, his back to Drew, so he didn’t see Drew’s shoulders sag or how his hands shook as he shut the door.

  “You’re home early.”

  Sam didn’t reply, and it was enough to draw Drew across the room to where the other man sat. He was clued in quickly, with the can of beer in Sam’s hand and the two empty cans on the coffee table. So far, he hadn’t seen Sam drink more than one at a time and never when he had work the next day.

  Circling around, he sat down on the couch beside him.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Is everyone okay?” He knew the risks that came with the kind of work Sam did.

  Sam seemed surprised at the question. “Yeah, the team’s okay. A little rattled, but okay.”

  “But it was a hard call?” If no one was hurt, then either it was something they’d seen or something they’d been forced to do.

  Sam ran a hand across his face. “In more ways than one. But we did our job and people are safer for it.”

  And in the end, that was what mattered. At least, so everyone said. They probably weren’t counting the cost for people like Sam.

  “Is there anything I can do?” It didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it.

  Sam gestured to the beer in his hand. “Just trying to take my mind off it.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Hell, no,” Sam replied, setting the can down on the coffee table. “Tell me something about you, Drew. Something that’s real, that means something to you.”

  Sam turned to him, meeting his eyes, and not looking away. What had the other man said, the last day they’d spoken like this? Something about making a connection.

  He stayed silent so long, Sam turned away, reaching for his beer again and in desperation Drew blurted out something he shouldn’t have.

  “I haven’t gambled since they day I left home five years ago.”

  It was stupid but Sam’s opinion meant something to him. He didn’t want him to think he was just some addict, stuck in a never-ending spiral.

  “Logan said—”

  “I told him I was in trouble. He assumed the rest, and I didn’t correct him. Better the devil he knew about than the one he didn’t.”

  “You were protecting him?”

  “I guess.” That wasn’t really what he wanted to talk about.

  “Care to tell me what you’re protecting him from?”

  He shook his head, looking down at his hands.

  “Here, you want to finish this?” Sam held out his beer. Drew took it and swallowed a mouthful, grateful for the reprieve.

  “So why’d you stop gambling?”

  “I think the better question is why I started.” He took another sip of beer, savoring the taste of the warm liquid on his tongue.

  “With things at home, I was miserable. I couldn’t win, not with my dad. Logan was already overseas, serving his country, and nothing I could do was right. The games, the gambling, was something I could win, something I was good at. Except when I wasn’t. Logan came home on leave and bailed me out. Dad found out, kicked up a fuss, threatened to throw me out on my ear. Only relented when I dropped out of school and got a job. But no school meant no chance of college. Dad was mollified, but he wanted me to enlist like Logan. He kept upping the pressure, and I was reaching breaking point.”

  “And Logan?”

  “Deployed. Fighting for our freedom.” He wasn’t being facetious. He was damn proud of Logan and everything he’d done. But he could see the irony in his brother fighting for the country’s freedom while he became progressively more trapped in their family home.

  “How old were you when you left?”

  “Nineteen. I realized if I didn’t get out then, I never would.”

  “And you’re twenty-four now. Five years of odd jobs?” Sam asked quietly, his eyes on the space between them and not Drew. Damn it, he knew, or he guessed at least.

  “That’s a whole other story.”

  “Alright, I won’t push.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes and Drew could see Sam’s thoughts were returning to his day and whatever bad thing that had happened. He didn’t want Sam going back down that path but he didn’t know how to keep him from it without spilling secrets he wasn’t willing to divulge.

  Setting down the can, he kicked off his shoes and drew his legs up under him, turning so he was facing the other man.

  “I’d suggest a game of spin the bottle, but there’s only two of us and cans don’t spin nearly as well.”

  Sam twisted so he was facing him, one knee bent and his hand tucked under it.

  “I think we’re a little old for games, don’t you?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Drew replied, leaning forward, bracing himself with one hand pressed between them. He stopped inches from Sam’s face, leaving it up to him to make the next move.

  Sam’s hand found his cheek, fingers ghosting across his skin.

  “You’re almost healed,” he murmured, tracing a thumb across Drew’s lip. Drew let his eyes close, just letting himself feel. Sam’s hand tipped his head up, then his lips were on Drew’s, gentle at first, as if sounding him out, then urgent, needy, his hand slipping behind Drew’s head to urge him closer. Drew parted his lips, giving way to Sam’s tongue as it pushed against his.

 
; Sam pulled back with a groan, resting his forehead against Drew’s. “I don’t sleep around,” he insisted.

  Drew pressed his mouth to Sam’s ear. “This isn’t sleeping around, it’s kissing. Just kissing.”

  He pressed his lips against the soft skin in front of Sam’s ear, just brushing the light stubble on Sam’s cheek. Sam’s hand slipped lower to cup the back of his neck, his palm hot against Drew’s cool skin. Drew took that as agreement, dragging kiss after kiss across Sam’s face until they were lip to lip again.

  “Just kissing,” Sam murmured, before his mouth found Drew’s again, insistent, wanting. Then Sam’s arms were around him, moving lower, shifting both their positions until Drew was on his back on the couch, Sam above him, their bodies pressed together just as surely as their lips.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam woke, head fuzzy, his body heavy with the warm weight on top of him. He went from asleep to alert in a matter of seconds at the murmur of a voice a little too close for comfort. He relaxed when he realized it was Drew, laying on top of him and shifting restlessly. His voice grew louder. “No, no…”

  Sam tried to settle him, hands stroking along his arms.

  Drew jerked awake with a shout, struggling to push away from him. “Russ, stop, please.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. It’s Sam, it’s just me,” he said, tightening his hold on Drew, whose struggles had him falling towards the floor.

  “What?” Drew asked, glancing around like he had no clue where he was or what was going on. “Where… Russ?”

  Peering down at Sam, there was no sense of recognition in his eyes, not at first.

  “No, Drew, it’s Sam. It’s okay. You fell asleep, that’s all. You were sleeping, and you had a dream.”

  The younger man’s whole body shuddered against Sam, before going limp and sinking down against him, his face pressed to the curve of Sam’s shoulder. When another full body shiver hit him, Sam set cautious hands on his back, trying again to soothe and settle him.

  “Shh, it’s fine, you’re okay. You just came out of a pretty deep sleep, that’s all.”

  Was it? There was such fear in Drew’s voice as he woke. He didn’t lift his head and Sam could feel puffs of warm air from Drew’s breath, a little too fast and a little too shallow. His body shivered harder. Whatever the dream had been, it had really spooked him.

  Sam’s hands, which were running slowly up and down Drew’s back, didn’t seem to have the desired effect, so he changed tack, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him tightly.

  “I’ve got you, okay?”

  “Okay,” Drew mumbled back, and some of the tension leeched from his body. “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” he said, taking the chance to ask a question. “Are you running from someone, Drew? Is that what all this is about?”

  Drew went still, the room silent except for each whisper of breath between them.

  “Yeah,” he finally murmured. “I had to get away.”

  The pieces were falling into place, Drew’s shifting story finally getting somewhere close to the truth.

  “This really isn’t about gambling then. It’s something more personal. You were in a relationship?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s why you couldn’t tell Logan the truth.” It was all starting to make sense. He felt bad for taking advantage of Drew’s confused state but if that was what was going on, he needed to know more.

  “Those bruises, the ones you got before you arrived. Was that him?”

  Drew seemed a little more awake now, his body tensing against Sam at the question. He wasn’t sure he was going to get an answer, worried he’d pushed too hard, too soon.

  “Yeah,” Drew croaked, parroting his words back. “That was him.”

  “And the assault last week. Did he do that? Did he track you down?” That was the cop part of his brain getting the priorities straight. Assess the immediate danger.

  “No. I told you. Three guys. Strangers.” Drew seemed disgruntled at the question.

  “You also told me that was over a gambling debt, which, if what you’ve said since is true, it wasn’t.”

  Drew pushed up on his arms, meeting Sam’s eyes for a moment. “You were pushing me to report it. I thought if I told you I’d been gambling, you’d leave it alone.”

  He settled his head back down on Sam’s chest. “I didn’t want to lie. I’m sorry.”

  “If you didn’t want to lie, then why did you?” He was a little mystified. Drew’s story still wasn’t adding up.

  “I’d only been here a week, I didn’t want all that trouble.”

  Sam didn’t see how lying about it was any less trouble, but he let it go, hearing how defensive Drew was getting.

  Twisting his wrist to see his watch, he groaned. “I have to get up now, unless I want to be late. Are you working today? It’s still early, you should go back to bed and get some sleep.”

  Drew huffed against him. “The diner let me go yesterday. I think the black eye and split lip after only a week was too much for them.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’m gonna wait a day or two till the bruising starts to fade and go job hunting again.”

  His fingers trailed along Sam’s collar bone. “I should probably let you get up, huh?”

  “That might be an idea,” Sam replied, squeezing Drew’s arm gently. “Thanks for keeping me company last night.”

  He’d needed that, much more than he’d needed another beer or three, which was the only way his evening was going until Drew showed up.

  “Anytime. You make a very comfortable pillow,” Drew joked, pushing himself up and off Sam to stand on the floor next to the couch.

  Sam felt a momentary pang of loss as Drew moved away, taking in the other man’s ruffled appearance, from his rumpled shirt to his hair standing up on end. As if reading his thoughts, Drew combed fingers through his hair.

  Despite his disheveled appearance, Sam had a near irresistible urge to kiss him, to feel Drew’s lips yield under his, to run his own hands through that messy hair. Shaking off his distraction, he got to his feet, his back protesting the night spent on the couch.

  “I’ll see you this evening, okay? We should talk more, if you’re up for that.”

  Drew shrugged, shuffling backward a step. “Might depend on the topic of conversation.”

  “Hey, look, you’re here. You did what you had to do and got out. That’s the hardest part. Most people in bad relationships never get that far.”

  That earned him an awkward smile. It would have to do.

  Drew felt bad and he wasn’t sure why. Sure, he hadn’t told Sam the full story, but he hadn’t planned on telling him any of it. Logan wasn’t the only person he needed to protect now.

  He didn’t let himself spend the morning moping around feeling sorry for himself. Instead, he went to the nearby library and copied another bunch of résumés, handing them out anywhere he thought they might be looking for staff. Unlike his first week, where he’d hung around to talk to the managers in person, this time he just dropped them in and left, keeping a note of the places that took them. In a few days’ time, when he didn’t look so bad, he’d call in and speak with them. Unless they called him first. A man could dream, couldn’t he?

  He dropped his fifth into an upmarket bistro that seemed to do a brisk breakfast service then went next door to a deli. He was just leaving again when the waitress from the bistro ran out after him, calling.

  “Manager wants to see you,” she said, gesturing him back inside.

  The manager, a man in his fifties named Harry, looked him up and down. “You got a record?” he asked.

  “No,” Drew replied.

  “And the eye?”

  “Mugged on my way home last week.”

  “Damn city’s a death trap at night,” Harry replied. “My barista quit this morning, no notice. Says here you know your way around a coffee machine?” He tapped Drew’s résumé.

/>   “I worked for six months in a place that did specialty coffees. It was a few years ago, but I still remember the important stuff.”

  “I’ll give you a week's trial if you can start today. You work seven-thirty to three-thirty. Two thirty-minute breaks at quiet times. I pay a dollar above minimum wage.” He paused, waiting for Drew’s reply.

  “Sounds great,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand. “I’m ready right now.”

  “Good. That’s the kind of work ethic I like. I’ll show you around.”

  He returned home that evening smelling of coffee, with a bag of pastries that had gone uneaten and a small bag of coffee beans that were almost expired.

  He had a few hours to himself in the apartment, so he did some cleaning and some thinking. Sam’s reaction to learning the truth about him hadn’t been what he’d expected. Drew being gay didn’t bother him, understandably. Nor the fact that he’d run from a relationship. But he hadn’t bought Drew’s excuse for why he hadn’t reported the assault. And Sam was like a dog with a bone, he wasn’t going to leave it. How much did Drew want to tell him? How much was safe? Cops knew crimes when they heard about them, so the second he started mentioning details about Russell and what Drew knew about him, he was going to want to act. But how would Drew ever be safe or keep the people around him safe, if he went up against Russ? No, there were some things he had to keep to himself and the truth about Russell was one of them.

  Chapter Nine

  Sam returned home to an empty apartment. There was a plate of pastries, a bag of coffee beans, and a note on the kitchen counter.

  ‘Got a new job! Celebrate for me!’

  He brewed himself a cup of the coffee and sat down with one of the pastries, enjoying the few minutes of quiet. His team were going over to Warren’s place to watch the game and he needed to be there. No, he wanted to be there. Sure, he was tired, but they all were.

  Checking his phone, he blew out a breath of frustration. Matt had stopped answering his messages again. It was fine. He’d call by his place on the way to Warren’s. The guys wouldn’t mind if he was a little late.