by Ts McKinney
Jagger frowned at him. “I don’t think they know. How would they?”
“Because you told them?” Landry couldn’t believe it. Had Jagger really not outed him to the rest of the guys?
“I didn’t tell them anything, Landry. I figured if you wanted them to know, you should be the one to tell them about it. I’ve just kept a close eye on you so I wouldn’t miss anything if it happened.”
“So nobody else knows? Just you and me?”
“Well, you and me and probably Sage. I think Sage definitely thinks something weird is going on. One minute you are Mr. Professional and the next minute you’re offering to give him a raise in your office. Dude seriously probably suspects something is off, but if we’re lucky, he may just think you’re totally nuts or have a split personality.”
“I love you, man. I seriously do. Thanks for not raising the nut-flag. If the rest of the guys suspected something, I wouldn’t be able to get the first thing done to get the club ready for opening. They can get a bit overprotective.”
“You think?” Jagger teased. “Your secret is safe with me unless I think the situation is getting dangerous. Fair enough?”
That was more than fair. Landry still couldn’t believe the gem he had in Jagger. “How did you learn to do that? Who taught you?” Landry asked quietly, wondering who’d been there for Jagger when none of the rest of them had—when Colton couldn’t have been there.
Jagger sent a so Jaggerish shrug in his direction. “Nobody, really. I studied up on it, read everything I could about panic attacks and how to deal with them. After that, it was just a matter of implementing what I’d read.”
“Uhhhhh…I don’t understand? Who helped you count? Who was your anchor?” Jagger’s eyes drifted downward, like they always would when he was ashamed of something, embarrassed or just didn’t know how to deal with certain situations. Shit.
“I would get to a mirror…and talk myself through it. After the first few times, after I realized what was happening, that’s when I started reading up on what it was and how to either prevent it or at least learn the steps to help me through it. Since I wasn’t willing to share my secrets with anybody else, I depended on myself.” Another shrug. “It was safest that way.” He gave another careless shrug. “I taught myself a lot of nonsense to try and help me deal with all my shit.” Laughing softly, he said, “I even taught myself Morse Code so I could tap out emergency messages during classes—telling me to calm myself down if I felt some sort of breakdown coming on.”
Morse Code? Fuck him seven ways to Sunday! Landry got physically sick to his stomach when he pictured Jagger, completely alone in the world, trying to count his way through a panic attack by looking into his own eyes in the mirror or tapping out emergency messages to himself while all the other students around him went on with their lives. It made him want to kill Jagger’s father and mother.
“What was your trigger?” Jagger asked. “Identify the trigger and conquer it.”
“The trigger?” Landry snorted. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m about to open my own business and if it fails, I lose everything to my name. Or maybe it’s that I’m horny because I haven’t been laid in twenty-seven days.” He glanced down at his watch. “And two hours and thirty-seven minutes.”
Jagger rolled his eyes heavenward and started shaking his head from side to side. “That’s not your trigger and you know it.”
“Maybe it’s because my business manager and accountant won’t let me spend an extra dime on anything without me submitting a ten page report on why I need it.” He teased.
Jagger’s eyes narrowed. “Well, since we are going to throw stones at each other,” he started with a smirk. “Maybe it’s because of a certain handsome, muscular Dom that may or may not have gotten under your skin at our breakfast together a few weeks ago.”
“Stop smirking,” Landry growled. “It’s very unattractive.”
Clutching his heart, Jagger answered, “That’s not a smirk! That’s my ‘I-know-what-you’re-going-through’ smile.’” He batted his eyelashes and then winked at Landry. “Remember telling me to be brave and give Colton a chance to prove his love? Do you remember making me hold your hand even when you knew it would terrify me? Remember how…”
“Save it, Wildcat!” Landry interrupted. “You were in love with Colton. That’s a big difference. I’m pretty sure I hate Brookes.” As soon as the words poured out of his mouth, Landry wished he could take them back because he distinctly remembered Colton telling him about how Jagger said he was pretty sure he didn’t even like him, much less love him. Shit, now he sounded even guiltier. “Just shut up about Brookes, okay?”
“No, not okay,” Jagger quickly countered. “If Brookes is the trigger then we have to identify and conquer. Those are the steps.”
Landry’s head crashed against the cushion of the couch. Shit, he’d forgotten the analytical way Jagger’s mind word. Rigghhttt. Identify the trigger and conquer it. If only it were that simple.
“That might be the normal steps but I believe we are both well aware of the fact that I’m abnormal, so that won’t work for me.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t approve Brookes’ paperwork, so we shouldn’t have to ever worry about him again. I seriously doubt he’ll darken our little island of fun again since he got rejected as a Dom for my club.” He laughed as he said it and desperately tried to convince both of them that he’d made the right decision, but he was pretty sure he was failing miserably at both attempts. Jericho Brookes serving as a Dom at his club would have put most BDSM club owners into immediate subspace. Not him. He didn’t like Brookes and he didn’t want to spend another second with him, even it would have meant immediate success to his new club. Nosireee, not worth it. He’d made the right decision.
The right decision might have been made, but it still smarted that Brookes hadn’t even responded to his rejection. There hadn’t been the first question or attempt to change his mind. Nothing. Poof, gone like a wisp of smoke.
It was for the best.
Why did it feel like shit, then?
“Yeah…uh…about that,” Jagger stammered nervously but the fear never quite reached his eyes. “There was a vote.”
Landry’s heart immediately started thundering wildly in his chest. Another panic attack? No, something so…different. Excitement? It couldn’t be.
It was.
“What have you done?” He tried to sound pissed. Hell, he was pissed. Wasn’t he?
“I told you it was a vote so I can’t be held solely responsible,” Jagger argued. “The guys voted and decided that Brookes got to stay—he was approved to join the club.”
Landry did a double-take. Sure, it was fake because he’d instantly known what the guys had done as soon as Jagger opened his mouth, but he did it anyway. He glared at Jagger and he’d be damned if shy boy didn’t grin even bigger. “I sent out the rejection letter myself,” Landry argued.
“No, you put the rejection in the out-going mail and acted like I was your secretary and told me to take it to the post office,” Jagger countered.
“So you just took it upon yourself to override my decision? My first big decision of the club? Seriously, Jagger?”
“No,” he answered dryly. “I told the guys about it. They called a special meeting. There was a vote. You lost. I ripped up the rejection and sent him an approval.” Jagger pulled his feet up on the couch. “That’s how it actually went down.” He glanced in Landry’s direction. “In my defense, I voted that the rejection remain intact and we follow your wishes.”
Landry looked up sharply. Jagger voted against allowing Brookes to join the club as a Dom? What did Jagger see that the rest of them missed? “Why did you vote against Brookes?”
“Because I was the last to vote and I knew my negative wouldn’t make any difference at all and if you got pissed and wanted to fire me, I could say that I voted against him joining the club.” Jagger let out a gush of air when he finished. “Don’t
fire me.”
“I can’t fire you, asshole. You’ve already renegotiated all of my supplier contracts and saved me thousands of dollars in the process. The employees absolutely love you. You’ve got a knack for numbers that makes you a geek on Star Wars’ level. And, most importantly, Colton wrote that I couldn’t fire you into your employee contract.”
Jagger’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Couldn’t fire me, eh? I didn’t know. If I had known, I might have pressed harder for that thinner toilet paper that would’ve saved us over seventy three cents a roll.” After enjoying himself for a few minutes, Jagger finally sobered. “Are you mad, Landry? You know the guys would never do anything to hurt you, right? They felt like it was best for the business…and for you.”
“That’s not for them to decide!” Landry snapped. He was mad. They had no right to pull that shit on him. “And you? I can’t believe you would do this behind my back. You saw how messed up Brookes made me act. You knew how rattled I was. Why would you go along with them if you knew what the risk might be to me?”
Several long seconds passed before Jagger answered. “Somebody once told me that I was dead, that my eyes were dead, until someone said Colton’s name. When I heard his name, they said life sparked in my eyes. I…I want that for you, Landry. I want to see that spark…again.”
Landry gulped. “Again?”
“You know it was there, Landry. You know what he did to you and how he made you feel. Hell, the fact that he made you actually feel anything spoke volumes. I saw it in your eyes and I want to see it again. You once told me that I deserved happiness. I didn’t want to believe it, but you kept pushing…kept saying it over and over until I started to believe it and was finally brave enough to take a risk with Colton. Let’s find that happiness for you.”
“I think I hate him,” Landry muttered quietly.
“I thought I hated Colton,” Jagger countered.
“He pisses me off.”
“Colton still pisses me off.”
Landry paused, hating himself for the next words he was going to speak, hating how weak they made him sound, wondering where they came from. Why now? Why after all this time?
“What if he doesn’t like me?” He went ahead and asked.
Jagger barked out a laugh. “He likes you, Landry. There’s no doubting that. All we need to do now is see if you like him. I think you do because you’ve definitely gone the extra mile to attract his attention.”
“What do you mean? Extra mile?” Landry felt confident he had not done anything at all to attract the Dom’s attention. Hell, he hadn’t even seen him since that breakfast clusterfuck.
“Dude, look in the mirror. Your hair is a lavender purple…just as pretty as cotton candy.”
Landry jumped up and went over to the mirror. He stared at his own reflection. This morning he’d thought he looked about as cute as a gay man living in Key West had the right to look. The lavender color was much better than the bleached white he’d been rocking only yesterday. He’d thought it made him look young and innocent. That any Dom in their right mind would want him, right? Shit, he looked like cotton candy. Had he done this on purpose? Shit. Shit. Shit. Why else would he dye his hair this color?
“Well, shit. I’ll change it again tonight,” he told Jagger, completely offended by his own blatant attempt to get a man’s attention that he wanted to hate. He wasn’t even sure if Brookes was still in town. That was a lie. He knew he was in town. He knew where he was staying. He knew about what time he went out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He knew Jericho Brookes was still here, doing whatever it was dominating Doms did in their spare time. He knew it because it was his place to know everything that happened on their tiny little island…not because he was interested.
“Change it only if you want. You need to learn to try and make you happy, not everybody else. Right? If you’re happy looking like a puff of cotton candy, rock that look. Do what makes you feel good.”
Landry continued to stand in front of the mirror, wondering if he could even remember what the real Landry looked like. He’d worked so hard for so long to be somebody else. Could he go back to the real deal? Could he actually try to be himself and would anybody like the real him? Would Brookes? Shit, he didn’t give a fuck what Brookes thought about his looks.
Correction. He didn’t want to give a fuck about what Brookes thought about his looks.
“I’m going back to my original color,” he finally stated. “I’m going back to just being Landry.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Jagger answered carefully. “What is the original color?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Landry joked. He suddenly felt as light as a butterfly. He was taking his first step to not hiding anymore. Oh hell, he feared many panic attacks were in his near future. Panic attacks. Sleepless nights. Dream dates with his hand in the shower.
“Dammit to hell, Landry. You know I’m not going to authorize two boxes of hair dye in the same month,” Jagger teased.
Well, at least Landry thought he was teasing. Okay, he was teasing to the extent that he would be going back over the books to find an extra eighteen dollars to cover the eighteen Landry was blowing on hair dye.
Now, for the bigger question—what exactly was his original hair color? How long had it been? There weren’t any pictures in existence. He was sure his family had burned each and every one as they’d condemned him to hell for being gay. Oh well, nobody would know if he got it wrong, nobody around here knew what he’d looked like as a scrawny teen living on the streets.
He was fairly sure it was brown. Dark brown. No, it was black.
Chapter 2
He sat behind his desk, tapping his fingers quietly against the solid cherry wood in a way he knew would be intimidating to the three men sitting in front of him. Intimidation—it was a game he enjoyed playing and excelled at. Of course, in his profession, he had little choice but to be the meanest son of a bitch in the game and intimidating people on all levels accompanied that title. His men were afraid of him and rightfully so. The possibility that he could have them all permanently removed off the face of this earth definitely existed and the odds of him doing it weren’t even low. He managed his business with an iron fist that often required he make the hard decisions.
Who was he fooling? They weren’t hard decisions for him. Having people killed was as easy as choosing in which restaurant he would eat his lunch. Easier perhaps. Lunch was an important meal. People could be replaced. There was always another man ready to step up and prove his loyalty.
He waited just a bit longer before addressing his men. His eyes drifted slowly between the three of them until they each squirmed in their seats. They were so fucking easy. No, they were soft. You didn’t get anywhere in this world being soft. If you wanted to succeed, you were hard…like him. He was surrounded by wealth. He pampered himself on every physical level possible. These men? They’d never have anything or amount to anything. They’d continue to work for him simply because they loved the power linked to them by his association, but before long they would piss him off and then simply…disappear.
“I trust you found my boys?” His calm voice finally broke the silence of the room. His fingers continued to tap and his eyes remained icy cold. “Give me good news, gentlemen.” His expression left little doubt that if they didn’t give him some it might very well be the last news they ever gave anyone.
“Well…uh…sir, we have good news, but we haven’t actually put our eyes on your boys yet.” He scrambled on when the boss’s eyes darkened with fury. “We are one hundred percent certain we know where the boys are. They’re at a place called Haven—it’s located in Marathon, Florida. It’s some kind of home for abused kids and parents.”
The need to break something, or someone, threatened to overwhelm him as he listened to their words. “Are you implying I abused my boys, Carl? Surely you wouldn’t be as…uneducated as that?”
“No! Of course not, sir! I would never. I just�
�I was just telling you what the place was.” His hand was shaking as he slid a folder across the desk toward his boss. “Here’s all the information we could gather on Haven and some surveillance shots that we took. We can’t get close enough to get any pictures of the residents, but we know they’re there.”
“Do you now?” He asked. His voice was heavy with sarcasm as he flipped through the file. This wasn’t what he wanted to see from his men. He wanted his boys back. He wanted to make them pay for their disobedience and then he wanted them back into the family…where they belonged. Haven? What the fuck was Haven and why the fuck would he care about it? He simply wanted his boys back, not an educational folder on a rescue shelter. He was about to fling the folder across the room and introduce his men to his favorite disappearing act when a face shot in the folder caught his immediate attention. He picked the picture up and studied it closely.
Excitement poured through his veins. His men would live to see another day. They’d done well. Not only had they probably located his boys but they’d found the devil that assisted in taking them away from him. He’d studied the video where his boys had been taken from him hundreds of times and he would never forget the face of the man responsible for taking what belonged to him. The video had been lower quality but this picture wasn’t. He could see him so clearly and he hated to admit he was impressed. The face in the picture was way too pretty for his own good but was probably, unfortunately, too old to earn him any money in his current business. He wasn’t too old for him, though. Oh, the things he could do to this young man to make him pay for taking his boys away.
The ways he could make him scream.
The ways to make him beg.
“His name?”
“Landry Evans. He lives in Key West and associates with the men who own Haven. He owns a BDSM club called Hemingway. We might not be able to get into Haven, but we sure as hell think this Landry kid can. Sir,” he added quickly.
“I trust you have a man on the inside?”
