by Evelyn Drake
Michael reveled in the feel of Steve’s body moving on top of him as Steve’s muscles shifted and bunched. “You okay?” Michael finally asked when Steve let him have some air. He trailed his hand down to Steve’s ass to emphasize the meaning of his question .
Steve blushed, and Michael melted, unable to keep the smile from his lips .
“A little sore,” Steve shrugged, as if he could wave it off as nothing .
“Just a little?” Michael teased .
Steve coughed as if to hide some of his embarrassment, but he was smiling too. “A lot,” he finally whispered. “I can feel my heartbeat in my ass and it still feels like you’re inside of me.” His expression sobered. “I can still feel you,” he whispered and then kissed Michael’s lips. “And I like it .”
Michael saw a fleeting expression cross Steve’s face. “What ?”
Steve shook his head as if there was nothing .
“Uh uh. You tell me what that was,” Michael ordered .
Steve shifted uncomfortably on top of him, as if dealing with emotions was harder than anything physical. “I thought I would be the top,” he finally said, his voice barely loud enough for his lover’s ear. “Whenever I thought of you, I thought of me inside of you. Not the other way around. It... it had never even occurred to me that it would be the other way around .”
“Disappointed?”
“No.... Happy.” Steve took a deep breath, and Michael could feel Steve’s heart beating against his own. “This—having you inside of me—it’s so much more than I ever knew it could be. I...” His eyes filled with unshed tears and his face reddened .
“Shhh,” Michael said, kissing Steve’s eyes. He felt himself melt to the man further as he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight .
“I don’t want to lose this .”
Michael felt Steve’s tears on his neck. Closing his eyes, he held Steve tighter as if doing so would mean he really could protect the first love he’d ever had. He had loved others, but he’d never been loved back .
He rolled Steve onto his back and took his face into his hands, wiping away the tears from the outer corners of Steve’s eyes. “Some day we’re going to lie just like this, with me on top of you and with nothing between us. I’m going to make love to you—slow. I’m going to make love to you because I’ll love you and I’ll want you to feel it and know it with every part of you .”
“But not yet?” Steve asked, his voice almost making no sound .
“I’m getting there,” Michael answered, kissing Steve’s lips. And, he knew it to be the truth if he wasn’t already there .
* * *
I n the kitchen, Steve spread the contents of the refrigerator over the countertop as Michael sat at a bar stool on the other side. That Steve had opted to stand rather than sit wasn’t lost on Michael, and Michael hid his smile at how Steve’s ass must have been feeling. To go from virgin to well used in two days had to have been challenging. Michael had had him again in the shower, as Steve moaned his anguished pleasure against the tile wall. Yet, Michael’s eyes still travelled Steve’s body now as he re-imagined him naked .
“Stop it,” Steve said with a blush and a laugh, averting his gaze to a bundle of grapes .
“Can’t help it. It’s that sweet ass of yours. I can’t stop thinking about how good it feels to be inside of you. Think you can take me again, right now, bent over the counter ?”
Steve’s grin grew and his blush deepened as he shook his head no .
He’s so cute! He can’t even look me in the eye .
Michael thought about getting on his knees to suck him off, and was about to get up to do just that when Steve cleared his throat. Refocusing on Steve’s face instead of the long lines of his delicious body beneath their now-dried clothes, Michael saw that Steve’s smile had faded .
Steve slid a cell phone across the counter. “Call .”
Michael’s stomach knotted. He knew this moment was coming. They’d talked about a strategy for moving forward as they’d waited for their clothes to finish in the dryer. He was to set up a meeting with the Family, one where he was supposed to hand himself over. It was a distraction to give them more time .
Michael had given it a lot of thought, and he’d come to some conclusions that he didn’t dare give voice to. Taking the phone, he nodded his head without looking at Steve. Betrayal was a terrible feeling, especially when it was with someone he might have been able to love .
He tapped in the number he knew by memory. Steve had dug the phone out of the home owner’s pocket, and Michael wondered at what kind of karma would come with using the phone for their own gains .
Putting it on speaker, the sound of ringing filled the kitchen as the two men in it barely dared to breathe .
“Hello?”
Michael had never known anyone other than Chandler who could sound both petulant and welcoming at the same time. Yet, with a lilt of southern charm, the deadly mob boss managed it .
“It’s me.” The words were hard to get out, but he managed .
“Michael? Michael! It’s so good to hear you! How are you? Are you coming home yet? Tell me you’re coming home. I miss you !”
Michael felt sick. The man had a viper’s soul but thought he was a loving master. He sounded so willing to embrace his wayward son .
“Yes, I’m coming home.” Michael felt as if he were trying to talk with gravel in his mouth. “Is my family okay? Is Sigmund with you ?”
Steve shot him a look that warned that he should stay on the script they’d discussed .
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty head about that,” Chandler said, and Michael was acutely aware that his question hadn’t been answered. He felt like cursing and bashing the phone against the wall, but instead he took a deep breath .
“Papa, can I come home ?”
A heavy sigh from the other end was Michael’s only answer for several long heartbeats. “Is that boy with you?” Chandler’s petulance warped into unmasked jealously. Steve’s face lost all expression as the color drained away .
“Papa, what boy?” Michael asked, his gaze fixed on Steve .
Chandler sighed again, this time resigned and dismissive. The man could communicate with his sighs alone, Michael mused .
“Never mind about it. You just come in. The arboretum. You will be there at four.” It was not a question or a suggestion, and Chandler did not even ask about Michael’s location and whether he would be able to get there in time .
“Yes, Papa,” Michael answered, knowing the response expected of him .
The call clicked off .
Steve paced the kitchen. “They know about me. The Family and Operations are in communications. They’re talking .”
“You mean a mole ?”
Steve stopped. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think they’re still working this operation together. It’s just that, Operations has never shared information with a client before. It’s always been one-way communication in the past once a job has begun. If Chandler knows about me, that means someone’s talking to him. This isn’t right .”
“Well, does it even matter at this point. I mean, that’s not where we’re going.” Michael dropped his gaze to the assortment of cold roast, cheeses, and fruit he no longer had an appetite for .
“You’re right.” Steve walked back around the counter. “You okay ?”
Michael didn’t dare lift his gaze to meet Steve’s in case something gave him away .
“Mmmhmm,” he said, filling his mouth with a slice of Colby cheese .
There wasn’t a lot of talking after that as they filled their bellies and then got ready to go. They walked out into the enormous garage that housed luxury and sports cars and even a motorcycle that looked as if it belonged on a speedway .
“I forgot something,” Michael said, turning around. Steve stepped past but by the time he had his hand on the door’s handle, Michael had his gun pulled out of the back of his jeans. Holding its nose in his hand, he whipp
ed the handle up to clip the back of Steve’s head near the base of his neck .
Steve crumpled, out cold .
Bending over him, Michael checked his breathing and stroked his face before stealing a single kiss. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, dragging him into a position that would be less likely to hurt him as he lay unconscious. He searched his pockets to find the stone. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as he stepped over his motionless form and slipped through the door beyond .
For Michael, the most important objective in his life was saving his sister. Steve’s most important objective was to save Michael. The objectives had a strong chance of clashing .
I can’t let him get in the way. Not again. Time was running out .
With the roar of an engine, Michael was gone, leaving Steve behind less than two minutes later. He abandoned the only man who had ever loved him .
15
Michael
“W hat have I done?” Michael asked himself for the hundredth time, but this time he was asking it from his parked—stolen—car outside the main gates of Washington’s upstate arboretum. Closing his eyes, he pictured Steve laying unconscious on the floor. He imagined him waking up, and then he imagined him mad as hell .
“What have I done,” he said to himself again, but even as he opened his eyes, his mind still saw the image of Steve, this time racing toward him in an attempt to stop him from doing what he was about to do .
The clock was ticking .
Starting the engine, Michael drove, creeping along the lane of overreaching trees bright with leaves of gold, orange, and red against near-black tree trunks. Michael didn’t know if he’d survive the next half hour, and his eyes drank in all the beauty around him .
“I’m going to miss this,” he mused, knowing that once dead, he might not even exist to miss anything. That made the moment all the more precious to him, knowing it existed within the now and possibly no other time. And then he thought of his sister, her laughter and smiling face, and he wondered if she still existed, too. It was the resolve his courage needed, and he drove on, pressing his foot harder on the gas .
Following the one-lane road, its curved path led him into an expansive parking area. At its end stood a giant, three-pronged dome made of glass and steel. The Glass House. Within it were some of the most prized and cultivated plants in the northern hemisphere. Around the parking lot stood nondescript men and a few women, all dressed in suits and looking very GI. All of them were dressed like the lady who had met with Steve that very morning—the one who had nearly begged Steve to kill him and be done with it .
“I’m not getting out of this alive,” Michael said, not even hearing the words of his own voice. His hand twitched as if there were a phone he could reach for, and he realized that it was because he yearned to say his goodbyes to Steve .
Closing his eyes, he saw the man’s bright smile and heard his laughter. He felt his gentle touch and the gasped pleasure of his voice. Opening his eyes, his body still buzzed with the want of Steve. It called to Steve .
“Oh fuck. I do not love him. No no no no. No.” Why does the best have to happen right at the end ?
A sadness bloomed within him at the realization of all he was about to lose. He felt like a man in the desert given water for the first time, only to know he tossed it away mistaking it for something else. The anguish was physical, and it sped his heart and scrambled his thoughts .
“Fuck.” Get it together. Keep it together .
He breathed in deep through his nose and blew it out through his mouth, closing his eyes. His heartbeat slowed and the prickle of sweat on his brow cooled. His body softened as his shoulders dropped by two inches. And finally, his hands released their white-knuckled grip of the steering wheel .
“I love you,” he whispered, this time said as a goodbye. There was no point in holding anything back. “Don’t give up .”
Steve was the one in the desert, Michael realized. “I’m his water, and I’m stealing it from him.” His heart broke for how much he was taking from the man. But his hand reached for the door anyway, and he stepped out of the metallic, blue-grey Aston Martin .
All around him were people dressed in dark grey suits tailor made to fit their forms and hide their guns. On him, he wore someone else’s clothes and they were too big for him .
He closed the door of the Aston Martin and gave one of the parking-lot henchmen an up-nod of his chin as he hiked the waist of his pants up higher. Hidden below the long hem of his oversized t-shirt was the huge stone that stood out from his thigh in a lewd way. But the surrounding gunmen standing around with their thumbs up their asses didn’t need to know that .
Putting one foot in front of the other, Michael went up the broad flight of concrete stairs that led to the arboretum’s huge glass doors. He didn’t bother to look to either side of himself, and he didn’t look behind. He stayed focused and walked forward with the confidence of a thousand men marching on a village .
I’ll have my delusions if I want them , he mused to himself with a small smile as he opened the door with a huge flourish as he walked in .
His smile faded when he looked down the path to the center of the dome to see Chandler standing next to a woman who dwarfed him by a solid four inches. Her hair was a short, muddy blonde, and her face was as beautiful as it was severe .
Chandler looked nervous to Michael’s eyes, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. He stood with his shoulders square, his feet parted and his hands crossed before him. But his eyes were worried and glanced to his side as soon as they registered Michael’s presence .
He’s not in charge, Michael realized with a start. The man who had been king and ruler of his universe for years was not in charge. That wasn’t the most surprising thing, though. What surprised Michael even more than seeing Papa not in charge was seeing him fully accepting not being in charge .
Sweat prickled Michael’s brow again. Papa had openly hoped Michael would share his bed, and that had helped Michael stay alive for years during power plays and back stabbings. The woman next to Papa had eyes dead with no hint of a soul within. They were flat, and he was sure she’d kill him as easily as Steve had killed the homeowner that morning .
No remorse. No feeling .
These people were Steve’s family. Understanding grew like a light on a dimmer, brighter and brighter .
We’re from night and day. His family is cool and controlled, mine is hot and unpredictable .
Michael let his mind drift through all the possible scenarios that could play out as he took his time walking down that path to Chandler. As he neared, the man who had ruled his life stepped forward with arms raised .
“Michael! You came home !”
“Well, not home just yet,” Michael said, glancing at their surroundings as he moved into Chandler’s embrace. The man smelled of musk, not unlike Steve—yet wrong, as if it was a scent that had soured. Belatedly, he remembered the stone in his front pocket and knew that Chandler had to be able to feel it .
As they pulled away, Chandler took Michael’s face in his hands. “My boy, you look good. Where is the one you’re with?” The question carried an edge to his voice .
“It’s just me, Papa. There’s only me. You took care of my sweetheart already, remember ?”
Chandler’s face pinched with disapproval of Michael’s careful rebuke for killing Travis only a couple days earlier .
“Where is Sigmund?” Michael asked, his eyes sweeping the area again. His returning gaze to Chandler caught a cold, cutting glint in the older man’s eyes, but it disappeared as fast as he saw it .
Chandler shrugged apologetically. “You know how Sigmund is. He goes where his nose points him. I haven’t seen him in days.” The word “days” sounded smarmy on Chandler’s tongue, and he wore a smile that was meant to be sympathetic, but Michael saw spiteful glee hidden within it .
Michael’s hands shot out to twist in Chandler’s shirt as his heart skipped beats erratically. Jerking Chandle
r to him, Michael lifted him to his toes. But the press of a barrel’s gun to his forehead gave pause to his desire to tear Chandler apart limb from limb .
“Put him down.” The words were spoken with lazy disinterest by the giant blonde .
“Tsk, tsk,” Chandler’s calming tone cut in. “We still want the stone, yes?” Chandler said, his eyes swiveling to the woman at the other end of the gun. “If we kill him, we won’t know what he’s done with it .”
Michael took it all in and processed it in a heartbeat. He didn’t know what Chandler’s motive was, but it worked in his favor. And right now, that was all Michael cared about .
“How long has Sigmund been gone?” Michael asked, his eyes locked with Chandler’s only an inch away .
Chandler shrugged in Michael’s hands. “He left ten seconds after you went over the wall. Where he went, I don’t know. I try not to ask him too many questions. I feel that it’s... better for my health .”
The huge dome began to twist as Michael’s world bent to a new reality. He’s with my family. He’s been there all along. A second later, the butt of the blonde’s gun clipped his head above his hairline in a hard, glancing blow, hard enough to cause Michael to release Chandler and stumble backward. Reaching a hand to his head, he withdrew fingers wet with blood .
“Monica, please...” Chandler implored as if speaking to a four year old tearing the wings off a fly .
Monica. Crazy Monica. The pieces were falling into place .
“Take him,” Monica said to no one in particular although three different people moved in response to the single command. “We’ll torture the stone’s location out of him .”
Michael stumbled another step back, but the slide of fingers into his hair balling into a tight fist stopped him cold. The nose of a gun pressed itself a half inch into his side. In front of him, Monica took a step forward and then stopped .
