Broken Compass

by Jo Raven

  “We should call again.”

  I hit redial, but we get the busy tone. I stare at the phone, then turn to West and find him glaring. “I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe they were closing.”

  “Yeah. Or the guy really thought we were pulling a prank. And tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “Damn.” I sigh. “What do we do now?”

  “Has Syd finished reading the journal? We should sit down and talk, pool what we know.”

  “Know. Ha.” I grunt. “We still got nothing. Fucking nothing.”

  My phone starts ringing. West answers it. “Hello?”

  “This is Zane Madden,” an unfamiliar voice says from the other end. “You called earlier and said it’s important. What do you want?”

  “Kash is gone. And you want info about him.” Zane sounds annoyed, or maybe just tired. “What makes you think I have it? How old is the guy?”

  “Nineteen, we think.”

  “You think.”

  Zane makes me nervous. He sounds dangerous, like the kind of guy who’d punch your lights out if you irritated him. “From what he said.”

  “How old are you then?”

  “Uh. I’m nineteen, too.” West says.

  “Same,” I mutter. “Almost twenty, though.”

  “You’re all kids. Fuck.” Zane sighs. “So what did this Kash say?”

  “You inked his tattoos,” I say.

  “So he was a customer here. Do you think I remember every fucking customer who passes through here?”

  Shit. “I dunno, man. He mentioned you. We’re trying to find him, in case something bad happened to him, that’s all.”

  Zane is silent for a moment. Then he grunts as if he’s just sat down. “What’s his full name?”

  “Kash Graham. Kasimir.”

  “That doesn’t ring a bell. Anything else? What tats did I do for him?”

  “A phoenix,” I say. “And a dragon.”

  “A dragon. No fucking way. Are you sure?” Suddenly he sounds alert and interested. “When did I ink him?”

  I glance at West who’s frowning. “At least four years ago?”

  “Kasimir. I’ll have to check my records.”

  “Okay. Thank you,” I say.

  “We’d appreciate that,” West adds. “We’re worried. We’ve asked everyone we could think of, looked everywhere. It’s been weeks. Months.”

  “I’ll call you back if I find something,” Zane says and hangs up.

  “There’s something…”

  “What?” West takes a swig from his beer and reaches for mine. “Want it or should I finish it for you?”

  “Be my guest.” I feel light-headed. Booze might not be a good idea. “I was just thinking.”

  “Careful. You don’t wanna strain anything.”

  “Asshole.” I close my eyes, the steady throb behind them intensifying. Halos are jumping around the room, making me dizzy. That name, though. The name in the article… “Vasiliev.”

  “What?”

  “Vasiliev. The guy who is now ruling the underground Chicago ring, in the article you showed me.”

  “What about him?”

  “There was a story about him… from a couple years back. I’m sure it was him, but…” I type in his name, my hands shaking. Bright streaks go through the room. “Damn.”

  “What’s the matter? Nate.”

  My head. My fucking head is killing me. I try to breathe through the vise tightening around my skull. “A boy,” I whisper. What the fuck triggered this migraine? I was fine earlier. “There was a boy.”

  “A boy? What are you talking about? Dammit, man, you don’t look so hot.”

  “Migraine,” I grind out.

  “Let’s get you to bed. Come on—”

  “No.” I push the laptop toward him. “Search. Vasiliev.”

  He pulls away from me and takes it, and there’s a beat of silence. And another.

  I crack an eye open. “Do I need to beg?”

  “Fuck you,” West mutters, but turns to the laptop and types into the search engine. “Here we go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is this stressing you?” He’s typing, the clacking on the keyboard setting my teeth on edge. “Looking for Kash?”

  “Of course it’s stressing me. I keep thinking…” I swallow hard. “What if someone has him, right? And all this time Kash was hoping we’ll find him and rescue him, and we’re here, shooting the shit and going in circles, having beers and not seeing the clues staring us right in the face?”

  He’s still typing. “I should get some painkillers in you before it gets too bad.”

  “Find the article, and I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

  He snorts. “You?”

  Right. “Just fucking do it, man.”

  I close my eyes again and it’s blessed silence for a few minutes. At some point he gets up and comes back. Nudges me. “Pills.”

  “Mother hen,” I grumble, but take them and the water he brought me gratefully. “Got anything?”

  “Yeah…” He sounds uncertain. “A boy, you said?”

  “Read it out.” I lean back. “What does it say?”

  “Andrei Vasiliev, owner of Casino Blue and other establishments, says he has legal custody of his nephew, son of the recently deceased Mikhail Vasiliev, known in street fighting cycles as the Hammer.” He pauses. “There’s no pic. But the boy’s name is Evgeny. Evgeny Vasiliev. Not Kasimir.”

  “It’s him,” I whisper. “That boy, it’s him.”

  The boy in Brussels. The rich uncle. The Vasilievs.

  I’d dreamed about him. That article, it’s been stuck in my mind for so long. Deep in my gut, I always knew it was him.

  “That’s an even bigger leap,” he mutters. “Boy’s called Evgeny. You did hear that, right?”

  “What do you wanna bet I’m right? Type it. Evgeny Kasimir Vasiliev.”

  “Fine.” More clacking on the keyboard. Man, my laptop is ancient. Then he says, voice strangled, “Holy fuck, Nate. Holy shit, I found him.”

  I sit up. “Tell me.”

  His eyes are wide, red spots on his cheeks, and he turns to tell me. But before he opens his mouth, the apartment door opens and Sydney walks in.

  “You guys still up?” She quirks a brow at us, and saunters up to the sofa. She’s like a pin-up model with her red hair piled high and that damn dress.

  I’m certainly up, although I feel like shit. My dick waves an enthusiastic salute.

  She comes to us and we move sideways to make space for her between us. She kicks off her shoes and crawls in our middle. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Nate thinks we’ve found out who Kash is.”

  “What? Are you serious?” She puts her arms around us, green eyes bright. “Tell me.”

  “That’s what I said.” I toss West a pointed look.

  “Okay.” He clears his throat, balancing my ancient laptop on his knees. “It’s only a passing reference to Evgeny Kasimir Vasiliev. It says that his uncle, Andrei, assured everyone the boy is in a boarding school in Brussels.”

  That motherfucker uncle.

  “You think this is him? Kash?” Sydney looks from me to West, brows drawn together. “What makes you think that? Is there a pic?”

  “No pics.”

  “But it fits,” I mutter. “The name. The dad dying.”

  Does it, though? Or am I trying too hard to make the puzzle pieces fit?

  “I thought his whole family was dead? Mom and sister and all?” Sydney leans in to read the article. “It doesn’t say anything about them here.”

  No, it doesn’t.

  “And even if you were right…” Sydney says. “What would we do?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  West

  Is Nate right? Is this Evgeny Kasimir Vasiliev the same person as Kash? There’s no picture of the boy, but there’s a picture of the uncle, Andrei, and I return to it over the next couple of days. There is something… Kash-like to him. He has the same cool g
ray eyes, the pale hair, the strong chin.

  Or maybe I see it because I wanna see it, and it’s not real.

  Life goes on, without Kash. It’s been more than two months now since he disappeared from our lives.

  It’s weird how much of a void he’s left behind. He was the newcomer, and yet he earned his place, put his stamp on us, marked us. We always turned to him for his opinion, his help. He was always there for us.

  I miss him, dammit. He’s a friend, and more. He turned out to be so much fucking more. If admitting it makes me a pussy, well then. I don’t give a fuck.

  But life does go on. I got a better-paying job at a burger joint, and sometimes work as a bouncer at a club. And I bought a car. It’s an old piece of scrap, but we can all use a ride from time to time, though I’d have to learn how to drive first. Jonathan refused to pay for any driving lessons for me when I asked, saying our money was tight.

  Getting the car was a good decision. Sydney sometimes drives to the college campus where she works, and I feel better knowing she’s not riding the bus or walking home alone.

  We get a large mattress and get rid of the bed in Nate’s bedroom so we can put the mattress on the carpet and sleep there. All three of us. Finally, we have space to stretch—and still we end up in a tangle of bodies by morning time.

  It’s great. Almost too good to be true, this new life, this calm that comes over me when I’m in bed with them. And the sex.

  Goddamn. The sex is off-the-charts hot. I get a boner randomly during the day thinking about it.

  If only Kash came back…

  But the days pass. Zane Madden hasn’t called, so I guess that was a dud all right. He’s right. Why would he remember a customer from years ago?

  Sydney still cries at night.

  She also still goes out with her friend Gigi almost every weekend, and both me and Nate are starting to wonder what is going on.

  So tonight as she passes by the sofa where Nate and I are sitting, checking a used-cars site, I grab her and pull her on my lap, even as she squeals.

  “Going out again?” I slip my hands around her hips and to the front to cup her tits through her dress.

  Her breath catches. “Yes.”

  “What are you and Gigi doing? Is she dragging you off to anything dangerous?”

  “No. Gigi wouldn’t do that, she’s a good girl.” Sydney bites her lip in that distracting way that makes me growl. “We just dance. There’s this boy she likes, though. He’s often there.”

  “So that’s why? You’re helping her catch this guy?”

  “Oh, she’s doing a fine job on her own.” Sydney wags her brows, making me grin. “It’s a good thing you didn’t meet Gigi before me. Girl is gorgeous.”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I tell her truthfully, and she turns to smile at me. “You’re perfect.”

  “You’re ours.” Nate leans in to bite her lightly on the neck, making her squirm. She moans when he slides his hand between her legs. “Say it.”

  “Oh God…” She writhes on top of my hard-on, and it’s all I can do not to take my dick out and push into her. I knead her breasts, and her head drops back. “I’ll be so late.”

  “Just let go, babe.” Nate turns and kisses me as he fucks her with his fingers. “Let go,” he whispers against my mouth, and I wonder if he’s telling that to himself more than to us.

  I pinch her nipples, so turned-on I could bust a nut, and she moans low and long as she comes undone.

  “Jesus,” I pant, my dick and balls aching. “Can’t you just… call your friend and tell her you’ll be another hour?”

  “Yeah. Tell her your boyfriends need to fuck you,” Nate hisses, pushing down on the bulge in his pants.

  Sydney sits up, face red, eyes dark. She swallows hard. “Sorry, boys. When I’m back I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Is that a promise?” I whisper and she smiles.

  “Syd… You sure there isn’t something else?” Nate asks, sobering. “What are you hiding from us?”

  I expect her to deny it, say she isn’t, but she doesn’t. “I’ll tell you after tonight. I promise.”

  A look of unease passes between Nate and me. “Tell us what, Syd?”

  But she’s already getting up. “I’ll be late. Heck, I’m late already.”

  Nate is surging to his feet, golden eyes flashing. “If it’s anything dangerous, Syd—”

  “No, it’s not, don’t worry.” She grins at us, gaze dancing with mischief. “I’ll be back before you know it, to play with you.”

  Fuck… Playing with Sydney is one of my favorite things in the whole world, but leaving us with questions, worried, and with a raging hard-on is downright cruel.

  This girl is out to kill us.

  “She’ll be fine,” Nate says after the apartment door shuts and Sydney is gone. “She’s careful.”

  “What the hell do you think this is all about?”

  “Other than helping her bestie?” He stands there, arms folded over his chest, staring at the door. “Dunno. Think it has something to do with Kash?”

  “At parties and bars?”

  He shrugs. “No clue, man. Anyway, gonna rub one off and head to bed.”

  Something about the way he says that has me staring after him. I mean, sure, we’ve kissed a couple of times, but we’ve never taken it to the next level, and I tell myself it’s not an invitation to watch, even less participate.

  Still, I find myself getting up and following him to the bedroom, curious and horny and not sure what the fuck I’m doing.

  But he’s not there. I hear the shower and push the door of the bathroom open.

  He’s in the shower stall, water beating down on him, a hand braced on the tiled wall, the other around his dick. Head bowed forward, dark hair streaming with the water over his face, mouth open, he’s jerking off, like he said he would.

  And I can’t look away. Maybe it’s the ache in my hard dick, the kiss he gave me earlier, the memory of Sydney rocking on top of me, her hard nipples under my palms.

  Then again there’s always been this pull between Nate and me—a mixture of affection and fascination.

  He turns his head slightly, quirks a crooked smirk at me. “Gonna watch or get in here?”

  “Nate…”

  “Suit yourself.” He’s jacking off harder now, big hand moving roughly over his dick. “We’re not cheating on Syd, man, if that’s your worry. We’re jerking off to thoughts of her.” He grunts, his cock twitching, his ass clenching. “Together.”

  I wasn’t really worried about that. I’m more worried about wanting to get closer to Nate, touch him. It’s not the same as with Syd, but it’s something, it’s there, and it won’t leave me in peace.

  Shucking off my sweats, I step under the spray with him. It’s a tight fit—but like his bed in the previous months, that’d never stop us.

  He turns his head, so that his cat-like eyes are looking straight at me and that sexy smirk is back. “Just in time. I’m close.”

  And hearing him say that does something to my insides. My balls tighten, my cock jumps and I groan, mimicking his pose, grabbing my dick and steadying myself with a hand on the wall.

  “We look like we’re about to race,” I say, grimacing as the need coils behind my balls, making my cock throb, swollen and heavy in my hand. “Shit.”

  “Maybe we are.” His hand is speeding up again, his face tightening. “Go for it.”

  And just as I think this is it, he straightens, pulling his hand off the wall and curling it around my neck. I think he’ll kiss me but he only tugs me closer, until I turn and face him. He grips my shoulder and thrusts against me, his cock sliding against my stomach with precum and water, my dick thrusting right beside it.

  It’s crazy, and hot. I gasp, glancing up at his face, and find his eyes half-closed, focused on our dicks and hands as we rut against each other.

  He’s controlling this, controlling how we stand, how we move. He’s not taking the choi
ce from me, or forcing me into anything, but it’s clear he needs to be in charge, and if that’s what he needs, he’s got it.

  And then he does kiss me, and I lose it. As his teeth scrape over my lips, we come all over each other’s chests. The pleasure wrecks me, pulsing through me like a deadly star, burning me and remaking me from scratch.

  What the hell are we doing?

  “We’re all in this together,” Nate whispers, and the fog in my mind clears.

  Because he’s right. This is what it is. We’re closing the circle. Or we’re trying to, though one of us is missing. I wonder if we’ll ever be complete without him.

  Looks like we don’t have a choice.

  “Hey, boys…” Sydney climbs on the bed between us at some point in the night. She molds herself to our naked bodies, all warm, bare flesh. “Touch me,” she whispers. “I missed you.”

  Her soft tits press against my back, and I turn and take her in my arms.

  “Hot damn, yeah. We should always sleep naked.”

  “Then we’d never get any sleep,” she whispers, and I chuckle, still half-asleep and getting hard as I map her curves with my hands and feel her rub against my dick.

  “Sleep is overrated,” Nate says, molding his body to Sydney’s back, his hands sliding over mine, cupping her tits. “When you can have sex, always have sex.”

  “Wise,” she murmurs, her voice catching on a moan. “I want you. God… both.”

  I reach down, between her smooth legs, and find her pussy hot and wet. It’s driving me crazy. “Nate, talk to us. She’s soaked and—”

  She kisses me, stopping my words, lifting a leg over mine so that my dick rubs against her folds. We both moan.

  “Damn, that’s fucking hot.” Nate is jacking off, his eyes where our bodies are moving together. “Shit.”

  Sydney pulls back, gives me a brilliant smile, then twists around and loops her arms around Nate, kissing him.

  There’s a second of stillness, and I hold my breath, afraid Nate won’t stand it, that he’ll panic.

  But he reaches up, grips her head and kisses her back, hard.