by Zoey Marcel
“What? Don’t you think the guy’s gonna pretend to go along with it or get up and leave when he sees me with a recorder in his face?”
“Well, obviously you’re not gonna stick it in his fricking face, are you? Think, man. You’ll be sitting in a booth near ours, and you’ll stick the video camera in the fake plants and tape the lying bastard’s response to seeing my handsome mug instead of the bimbo he was hoping for. Then I’ll prove to that lady fool that she’s wrong and I’m right.”
“As outrageous as this is, I think I’m down with it.”
“Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be? We’re gonna have the time of our lives exposing these freaks. Now all we’ve got to do is pick ourselves a sugar daddy.”
Sean leaned in closer, scooting his chair nearer to Brighton’s. “He looks rather young for this site.”
“Well, they’re not all old. Oh my God.”
Brighton’s mouth fell open when he caught sight of one man’s profile. The guy had dark-brown dreadlocks and he looked quite foxy with them. His tan skin overlaid sleek, well-defined muscles, and his unique features said he had some other nationality in him, probably of an island descent.
He had a brown mustache and chinstrap that matched the hair on his head, and he appeared to be in his early or midthirties.
His hazel eyes were hypnotic, their sharp slant and the severe arch of his brows making him look sinister, but in a smoking kind of way, like a sharp-dressed gangster from the 1920s and ’30s.
“It says he lives in South Dakota. That’s interesting,” Brighton said as nonchalantly as he could.
“He looks intriguing,” Sean remarked. “Sexy, too.”
“He looks evil.” Brighton sat there, willing his cock to lie down. It stirred a little in his pants the longer he stared at the mesmerizing picture. “I doubt he really looks like that, all exotic and bad boy–like and ripped and—”
“Hot?”
“He’s not bad-looking. Please, if he actually looked like that he wouldn’t be on this site.” Brighton stretched his fingers before clicking rapidly on the keyboard. “He wants to play dirty. Well, he’s in for a surprise. I’ll be his sugar baby.”
Sean grinned. “You messaging him?”
“Oh yeah, this guy’s mine.”
* * * *
Heller Enos finished getting ready. He and his younger brother, Kale, had bought a house in McKenna Downs recently. It was a modest two bedroom with a decent-sized fenced yard. They still had some boxes left to unpack, but things were coming along and it was starting to feel like home.
“I have a new message from someone,” Kale told him from where he sat at the computer desk.
“Oh yeah? Is it a hot, wholesome blonde like we talked about?” Heller asked.
“There’s no picture.”
“I wouldn’t waste time with those ones.”
“Her interests match up with what we’re looking for. I’m talking with her now.”
“Tell her to put up a picture. I’m not wasting time with trolls or creeps.”
He heard Kale typing away on the keyboard.
“She says she’s uploading one now of her face.”
“Let me know when it’s up.”
A minute or so later Kale called for him. Heller went over and peered at the computer screen. A beautiful blonde with brown eyes and the perfect blend of sex appeal and innocence stared back at him from the picture.
“Damn. That’s her!” Heller said with excitement. “You remember that girl I drove to the airport years ago, said she was moving to Chicago? I kept telling you how gorgeous and great she was? That’s her.”
Kale smiled. “Your memory of faces is remarkable. She’s stunning.”
“Keep chatting with her. When she feels comfortable, get her to meet with you. I saw her years later in a club in Chicago before, too. I told her to go home and quit fucking up her life, said she was worth more than that. I wonder if that’s the reason she moved back here.”
“I think you give yourself more credit than is warranted to you,” Kale quipped while typing back to the other person online.
Heller smirked. “I’m gonna head out and pick up a membership form for you at that BDSM club here in town. I’d offer to return it for you when you’re done, but they do background checks. You’ll have to go in person.”
“I will, but not right now. Her name is Danielle.”
“Why the hell is she typing in all caps and using a dozen damned exclamation points?”
Kale smiled slowly. “I believe she’s excited.”
Heller cracked a lopsided grin and shook his head. “She’s breathtaking, and she seemed sweet from what I gathered of her. We’ll excuse the hyper typing.”
“I’ll see you when you get back.”
“I won’t be long.”
He’d arranged to come into Leather & Lace when it was closed and meet with Shane Huntington, one of the owners. It was near sunset when he got to the club. The door was unlocked for him.
He heard a guy’s voice and halted dead in his tracks. He’d know that voice even if he were in a coma. It was Heath Brodie, his former best friend, the only man he’d ever loved…and his motherfucking worst enemy.
“How is Carsten?” Shane asked.
“Married,” Heath said curtly.
Heller’s fists clenched. Apparently Heath was still a little bitch. He crept over and saw Heath signing some paperwork. He had a short blonde woman with him. She had a divine ass, but mostly his nemesis had his attention.
Shane’s lips thinned in a phony smile. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you,” Heath returned.
The woman nudged him.
“All set,” Shane told him, collecting their paperwork. “We’ll just do a background check on you guys and then you’ll be good to go.”
The couple thanked him and then turned to leave.
Heller strode forward, blocking bastard Heath’s way.
“Watch where you’re going, you stupid—”
“Heath!” the dame scolded him.
Heller stared down at him coldly.
Heath blinked like he realized he’d just messed with someone who had several inches on him and Hulk arms to boot.
“I didn’t see you there,” Heath mumbled as he took his woman by the arm.
The guy didn’t recognize him. Not surprising since it had been a decade and Heller’s head hadn’t been bald back then. He’d shaved it to look more badass. That, along with the tattoos, worked well. Plus he had facial hair now.
Heath and the woman left.
“Heath Brodie?” Heller asked, turning to Shane.
Shane nodded, rolling his eyes a little. “The cheerful cuss is back.”
“Good. It’s been years since I’ve seen him. I figured I’d walk back into his life and shake things up.”
“You mean revenge?”
“Absolutely. The son of a bitch deserves it.”
“You gonna steal his woman?”
Heller grinned as he looked down at the membership forms. “I could, but I have something a little more sadistic in mind. I figured I’d give him a taste of his own medicine. Stealing his woman is not a bad idea, though. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Chapter Ten
Aiden Friel sat at the bar in Leather & Lace, drinking scotch from a tumbler. The BDSM club he co-owned with Shane Huntington was vacant since it was daytime. The solitude was empty like a vacuum, with the calming tranquility of a deep slumber. It was solace and silent torment at once.
He heard footsteps and knew who it was without even looking. Shane’s youngest brother, Justin Huntington, liked to sing sometimes, only more often than not he ended up singing the part of the instruments in the songs rather than the actual lyrics. This time he was evidently mimicking the rhythmic beat of drums. As if his off-key attempt at singing wasn’t enough, he frequently employed dance moves that made Elaine Benes from Seinfeld look like a professional ballroom dancer.
&nb
sp; Glancing over his shoulder, Aiden saw him dancing in the hall, flailing his head like he was at a rock concert. He highly doubted the boy even knew he was there. When Justin’s eyes opened from his psychotic little ritual that was somehow endearing, he nearly swallowed his tongue in a loud gasp that met with a mortified cry.
“Geez! Boss!” Justin grinned sheepishly and looked everywhere but at him, gesturing with his hands like crazy and talking a mile a minute. “Shane gave me his key so I could come in here to get my paycheck. I figured I’d do it today instead of waiting until next time I worked. Money, you know.”
Aiden smiled at the little guy rabbiting on.
“Not that money is everything,” Justin said quickly with a wave of his hands in front of him. “It’s just food is good.” He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go. Okay? Okay.”
“While you’re here you can stock the bar.” Aiden nodded at the wall. “The crates are over there.”
“Okay.” Justin got to it, seeming uncomfortable with the awkward silence.
Aiden found it relaxing. Some of the inner turmoil dissipated with the younger man near. At times Justin’s constant gobbing was amusing. Other times it was annoying, but regardless of his hyperactive mouth, his presence had a calming effect on him.
Justin was twenty-three and about Sean’s height with a similar slender build. He had the prettiest hazel eyes and a radiant white smile that was infectious. His young-sounding voice had a sassy edge to it that was deeply appealing, and his physique, while not as broad and defined as Aiden’s, was still toned and fit.
His dark-brown hair was bleached blond at the spiky top, frosted, whatever the fuck it was called. Aiden would have preferred him natural, but for jumping onto the mindless bandwagon of pop culture cattle, he had to admit the guy wore the teenage cliché look rather well.
“What are you doing here?” Justin asked.
“Is my presence disturbing you?”
“No, sir. It’s great. I mean, it’s okay.” He looked away and got back to work.
Quare little fella. He’s a fine thing.
“Is your drink delicious?”
Aiden set his glass on the bar and pushed it toward him. “Try it.”
Justin picked it up. “What is it?”
“Scotch.”
“Oo! The most macho drink of all. The test of manliness. Impressive.” He knocked it back and then made a face and spat it out onto the floor, gagging.
Aiden chuckled and took the tumbler back. “I think you just failed.”
“Oh God! It’s like liquid masochism.” Justin coughed and rinsed his mouth out with water.
Aiden grinned. “It’s an acquired taste. Drink something else if you like.”
“Really? Sweet.” He poured himself a beer. “Thanks.”
Aiden nodded and stared off into nothingness again.
“Not to be nosy or anything, but are you okay?”
“Why is that?”
“You have your brooding-man face on. Not that you have a happy face.” Justin frowned, backpedaling. “I mean, maybe you do outside of work. It’s just here you’re all ‘Grr. I’m a badass. Come here. I’ll step on you. Grr.’”
Aiden just looked at him, smiling when Justin turned pink and busied his mouth with his drink. “You talk too much.”
“I really do, but it makes for a strong jaw and an agile tongue.”
The words sent an unexpected rush of heat through Aiden. “Is that how you pitch y’rself to the girls?”
Justin laughed nervously, blushing and then downing more beer. He was especially adorable when he was nervous. He seemed particularly nervous whenever he was around Aiden. Possibly the fear of getting fired for an infraction.
“Is that what’s bothering you? Some woman is too thick to see how much you like her?”
Aiden scoffed and took another swallow of liquor before answering. “It’s not a woman.”
“Oh.” Justin’s eyes widened and his cheeks rouged with another dusting of pink. “Oh.”
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I was just thinking about my boy.”
“Yeah, you were.”
Aiden shot an irritated look up at him. “My son.”
“Oh.” Justin dragged the word out slowly like the light had just come on upstairs. He frowned. “You have a son?”
“Mhm.”
“How old is he?”
Aiden set his glass on the bar, adjusting to the smoky burn in his throat as the liquid slid down. “Nineteen.”
“Seriously? I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not.”
“Um, girlfriend then?”
Did he imagine Justin’s disappointment?
Aiden tapped his finger on the outside of his glass, gazing off into space again. “It’s just me and my kids.”
Justin’s eyes bugged out. “You made a bunch of babies?”
Aiden’s lips swiveled to the side in a lazy smile. “I didn’t. It’s just him and his sister. She’s seven.”
“Oh wow.” Justin stood there awkwardly for a minute. “Good for you, man. That’s great.”
“They deserve better.”
“Aw, I bet you’re a great dad.” Justin leaned over the bar with an encouraging smile.
Aiden snorted. “Right, that’s why my son would rather spend his weekend with the preacher he lives with than with his aul’ man.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
He took another gulp and then set his glass down, taste buds burning with velvety fire and smoky peat. “It is. He said they were going to Deadwood to watch the steer show.”
“Oh my God, man-cows!” Justin was beaming. “Sorry. I just love anything bovine. Go ahead.”
Aiden smirked, shook his head once with a brief “all right then” arch of his brows before saying anything more. “I’m sure they went there, but I went by Brodie’s house the other day to spend some time with my son and he wasn’t there. A neighbor said when Brodie left with him over the weekend they had camping gear with them. My son never mentioned that.”
“Are you worried they’re gonna…you know?”
Aiden threw him a warning look. “My son’s not gay. The preacher sure isn’t.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
They were quiet for a minute.
“Are you worried he thinks of the preacher as more of dad than you?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s a better example anyway, even if he is a Baptist.”
Justin quirked his features and scrunched his nose in a way that captured Aiden’s attention. “What’s wrong with Baptists?”
“I raised my kids Catholic.”
“Oh, so you’re Catholic, huh, except for today?”
Aiden snickered while drinking, coughing a little. “I, em…” He cleared his throat. “I was raised that way. Somewhere along the way, I acquired a few vices.”
Justin cracked a smile, and Aiden’s breath caught because of it. He averted his eyes back into the dismal vacuum of nothingness.
“I wonder that he didn’t tell me about the camping part of the weekend.”
“Maybe he didn’t want you to feel like second best as a dad. Nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with a mentor or a close friend. He was probably just thinking of your feelings.”
Aiden made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat. He resumed the blank stare that blurred the room, though that could have been the alcohol talking.
“There’s nothing in this world to make you feel like a bigger failure than being a parent. When you’re alone, you can hide the darkness inside you, fight it, embrace it even.” He glanced down at his half-full glass of liquor and ice. Generally he drank scotch without it, but the summer heat called for the addition of ice. “When you have kids, you hafta hide the darkness, even if it’s a part of you. Pretending isn’t the worst part. Neither is knowin’ you can never change, that the one thing you hate the most is the only thing you can’t control.”
<
br /> Through his blurry stare into space he caught Justin’s confused expression in his peripheral vision.
“That’s the worst part before you have kids,” Aiden said quietly. “After you have them and they get older, the fear of losin’ to your demons becomes second only to the nightmare of realizing that you passed on that same darkness to one of your kids, maybe to both of them.”
He lowered his gaze to his glass, fondling the frosty exterior, pitch softening after the resigned exhale.
“You try to destroy it in its infancy, thinking if you can just control it, fix him, he’ll be the man you weren’t. Years pass and it looks like you finally had a fuckin’ victory for once in your life, but deep inside…” Aiden gestured with his hand, shaking his head and lips pursing. “There’s this nagging little voice that keeps sayin’ ‘You failed. He’s just like you. He’s gonna get hurt bad. Maybe even do the hurting.’ Bad blood runs through my veins. It’s inside him…because of me.”
“What did you do that was so bad?”
He swallowed down the soreness in his throat, a pain he hadn’t felt in ages. His vision got hazy. Staggering guilt encircled him like a lagoon.
“I failed their mother. If I fail with my kids, nothing else I do matters.”
A chill rippled through him when Justin reached across the bar and touched his forearm.
“I don’t really know what the heck you’re talking about, but I’m sure you haven’t failed with your kids. Your son loves you, and your daughter is still young enough to teach. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Aiden came back from the dark tunnel of agonizing memories. “I shouldn’t be tellin’ you all this. Fuckin’ scotch.”
“It’s okay.” Justin gave his forearm a squeeze that sent a current of electric heat straight to his groin.
Aiden clutched his glass, knuckles whitening and heart racing. The boy’s hand was small, warm, his fingers slender, coated with tiny beads of condensation from his frosty glass. His skin was smooth and soft, like he either moisturized or hadn’t ever had to put in a hard day’s work in his young life.
If the painstaking attention he took with his gelled, spiky hair was anything to go by, his skincare regimen was probably as thorough.
