Trust And Obey

by Ts McKinney

  “Of course, sir. We’ve got an insider and we’re ready to act with your approval. We feel confident we can easily take this Landry Evans and use him to force the owners of Haven to give up the boys. All we need is your green light, sir.”

  One of the other men, sensing that the boss was happy, finally gained enough balls to open his mouth and speak. “We can have the boys back by this time tomorrow, sir. Landry will be easy enough to take and from what we’ve been able to surmise, he’s very friendly with the owners. They’ll give the boys up in order to get their friend back.”

  “No.”

  Every eye in the room widened in disbelief…and fear. Poor idiots. They were terrified of him. He loved it. Power was such an aphrodisiac.

  “No?”

  “No…I think I’d like to play with them for a while. Perhaps I could have the boys back tomorrow, but wouldn’t it be so much more fun if I really made a statement? I want my boys back. I want Landry Evans, as well. I want them all to pay for taking what belonged to me,” he growled. He felt his cock growing and pushing against the expensive fabric of his suit. Bloodlust always did this to him. “I’ll be in touch later today with my plan. Have your inside man ready for action.”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter 3

  Landry stared at the reflection in the mirror and suddenly wished to hell that Jagger and Colton were spending the evening at his house. Riley was in his own bedroom, but Landry knew Kentucky probably wouldn’t be much help sorting him through a panic attack and he also knew Riley would blab to everybody. No, he was going to have to handle the impact his reflection in the mirror was making on his psyche all on his own.

  What in the hell had he been thinking? Go back to his original color? Go back to how he looked the last time he’d walked the streets as a kid, selling his body to anybody that would hand him cold hard cash…or food. The contacts he always wore to hide his green eyes were tucked away in the drawer and he hoped to hell he was brave enough to keep them there. He leaned in closer, studying each and every detail. There were a few more crinkles around his eyes, but not many. He still looked incredibly young for his age and he supposed that with the lifestyle he’d chosen, it was a good thing. His lips were full, fuller even than Jagger’s kissable pout, but he remembered how those lips had always gotten him in to trouble. His father had hated his ‘girl’ lips and made it a point to tell him about it every opportunity he had gotten…right before he’d punch him in the mouth or black his eye. His parents, diehard Republican Christians, hated him at an early age because they’d recognized he wasn’t as boyish as the rest of the boys. He didn’t like sports…but loved watching it because of all the hot guys.

  Folks say you choose to be gay and maybe some do, but it wasn’t the case with Landry. He’d known he liked boys lots more than girls at an early age. He’d tried to hide it, afraid of hell fire and damnation because he believed all the shit his parents shoveled his way, but then he’d finally realized it was something he couldn’t hide. A counselor at school told him to be honest with his parents. She’d said that while they might be disappointed, parents would always love their children.

  Fuck that shit.

  There hadn’t been one ounce of love in their eyes when they’d looked at him first with shock and then with pure disgust when he’d revealed his heart and soul to them. They’d tried praying it out of him—prayers heal everything, right? Apparently not. They’d tried beating it out of him. Shocker, that hadn’t worked either. They’d sent him away to a religious retreat where the big guns of prayer had been pulled on his gay ass—didn’t work either, but that was where he’d gotten laid for the first time. The prayers hadn’t worked for Alexander Fulton either and they’d found solace in each other’s arms. At fifteen, solace quickly turned to heavy petting and then something even better. When he was tossed out of the retreat for having unnatural sexual relations, he knew he couldn’t go back home. He’d run before his parents even had the chance to come pick him up and beat the shit out of him.

  Alexander, God bless that saintly boy, caused a huge distraction and he’d been able to escape through the woods. He’d gotten almost seventy bucks from Alexander, his one and only friend in the world, and headed straight to the bus station. Seventy bucks and a blow job to the man working the window earned him a one-way ticket to New York City—because that’s where all the runaways went, right?

  His excitement had been palpable as he’d quietly ridden mile after mile, taking him away from his rigid, unforgiving parents and toward freedom. Folks were friendly for the most part—offering him some of their leftover lunches which he’d greedily accepted and with each token of friendliness, he’d fooled himself into thinking being homeless wouldn’t be so bad after all. It’d been a three-day trip and by the time he’d arrived, he’d been arrogantly confident of his survival rate in the big city. Hell, look how well he’d done on his trip. Free food and people oohing and ahhing over his sweet looks the entire time. He’d foolishly thought he’d be able to cast a spell on every person he met and living on the streets was going to be a breeze for him.

  It wasn’t.

  It was nasty, cold, and lonely. It was dangerous. It was scarier than fuck. If he’d had the money, he would have called home and begged his parents to come rescue him. Thankfully, he hadn’t had the funds. On his third night, he’d finally managed to worm his way into a small group of other runaways. They weren’t exactly friendly, but they hadn’t tried to kill him when he stood close to them and listened to them talk, stealing some heat of warm bodies. He decided to take his victories where he could find them.

  It didn’t take a lot of listening to learn what the kids were doing to survive the streets, turning tricks. Suck a man’s cock. Let him fuck you. Sometimes, if they got lucky, the men would be quick and not rough. The kids explained they didn’t get lucky often, though. Landry was sick with fright the first time he’d stood on that street corner next to a tiny wisp of a girl named Felicia. What he and Alexander shared had been beautiful. So beautiful that for the longest, he’d fancied himself in love with the pretty boy with pale blond hair and dreamy blue eyes from Georgia. He didn’t want to sully that memory with some smelly, overweight dude but he didn’t really have a list of choices in front of him at the moment. There was one choice—fuck for food.

  So he’d done it. His legs were trembling when the man in the family van motioned for him to come closer. He hadn’t stunk exactly. He’d smelled like meatloaf. Like he’d just left the family table with his wife, two kids, and complimentary pooch. As the guy looked him up and down, Landry tried to play coy, just like his new friends had told him to do. He’d bit his bottom lip and looked up shyly at the guy. It had been painfully embarrassing until he’d seen the spark of life dance into the guy’s brown eyes when he’d done it. Fueled by that look, he’d allowed his tongue to dart out and lick his lips enticingly.

  The guy asked him to get into the van. Landry asked for the money up front, like he’d been told to do, and climbed in. They’d driven around for a couple of blocks until the man found an empty parking lot. After that, they climbed into the back of the family van and the guy fucked him in between his daughter’s princess backpack and his son’s soccer bag. He’d whispered that his name was Mark but in his head, Landry called him Alex. He’d told Landry how beautiful he was. He’d licked his lips and told him he had the sexiest mouth in the world. He’d murmured words of love that Landry was sure he didn’t mean but they kindled his heart anyway. When they’d finished, he’d helped Landry clean up and then took him back to the block and waved goodbye.

  It was that night that Landry fell in love…with fucking.

  It was a power trip. Men loved him. They worshipped his body. They didn’t condemn him or try to beat and punch him. If they got rough, it was just sexual and Landry reveled in that, too. They would be so proud of his willingness to let them do whatever they wanted. Yeah, he’d become addicted to sex…or at least to the things that accompanied it
. At the time, he’d just thought he enjoyed fucking. Now, after therapy, he knew he was trying to find somebody to love him. He’d mistaken sex for love. Blah, blah, blah. What guy didn’t, right?

  He squinted into the mirror again. He looked just like that scared little boy again. Wide green eyes with long lashes stared back at him. Inky black hair that needed a cut…but wouldn’t get one anytime soon, hung just below his chin. So very different than the looks he’d been sporting since escaping the streets of New York. He’d gone from blonde, to tawny, to all the pastel shades he could dream up, then to the white blonde, and finally to the lavender Jagger teased him about. None of those people had really been Landry. Hell, did the real Landry still exist?

  Who was the real Landry and did he even want to be found?

  ****

  Brookes leaned his hip against the railing of his hotel balcony as he talked into his cell. His eyes kept scanning the tourists walking the streets as he looked for anybody that looked vaguely familiar. He’d been on the island for a little over a month but he’d only run into Colton twice, Jagger once, and Landry zero times. To say he was disappointed would be an incredible understatement.

  He’d been spying on the kid for the best part of thirty days but it’d been from afar. He didn’t want to spook the beauty and send him scampering into hiding before he was able to fulfill his duty to his boss. Spread across his bed was a folder of information on Haven and Landry. There were pictures but not one damn one of them did the club owner justice…and the pictures were beautiful.

  He stepped back into the room and reached down to adjust the bulge between his legs. It was a habit he’d grown accustomed to ever since he’d first laid eyes on Landry Evans. From the other side of the phone, his boss was droning on and on about his mission but he’d quit listening well over seven minutes ago. He knew what his job was and didn’t need to be reminded of it each and every damn time they were on the phone together. He rolled his eyes when the boss man started all over again with the plan. Knowing this call wasn’t going to end any time soon, he started stripping his clothes away. Out of respect, he’d try to hold off jacking off to a picture of Landry while he was on the phone with the man that was paying for this entire mission but if he didn’t wind down soon, he was going to literally have to take matters into his own hands. Thoughts of Landry, pictures of Landry, and listening to his boss saying Landry’s name over and over again had his cock hard and leaking.

  Fuck, he had it bad for his latest mark. Nothing good could come from that, he suspected. He was breaking the number one rule of his job. Don’t ever let it get personal. Go in, do your job, and disappear. It should’ve been easy, it always was before. This time, however, he’d found himself lost in the “story” of Landry Evans. His history was tragic and Brookes had a hard time imagining the boy living on the streets, selling his beautiful body to every fucking pathetic piece of crap that paid him for it. He knew how at only fifteen years of age, he’d escaped from a religious retreat that was intent on getting the gay out of him—one way or another. That boy, Brookes was certain, had been brave and idealistic. He was also sure it hadn’t taken the streets long to destroy those characteristics. The pictures he’d taken of Landry did very little to hide the sadness that lingered in his slanted eyes. The lips, puffy and sexier than hell, were usually forming a sultry smile, but those eyes were still sad.

  As his eyes slid across the room and landed on a picture of Landry signing for a shipment of club furniture, he realized this job was going to be so very different than all the ones before it. Landry had captured his attention and was making him want things he had no business wanting.

  Question was, when it all came down to the final scene, would he be able to hand Landry over to his boss and walk away?

  Chapter 4

  “You excited?” Colton asked Landry for what felt like the hundredth time in only a few minutes. His friends were gathered around to try and settle his nerves on opening night but they were failing miserably. If anything, they were making the anxious feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach even worse. They’d spent the morning together with a catered buffet at Rory’s house, watching Riley and Rory bicker over just about every damned thing, and then spent a couple more hours at the pool relaxing. After that, they’d parted ways to get ready for the evening and then met back at the club five full hours before opening time. Well, it wasn’t the official opening night for Hemingway, but more of an invitation only to the movers and shakers of the BDSM world. He planned to officially open next week. Now he just sat at the bar getting more and more nervous with each and every passing moment. Colton, bless his heart, was not helping.

  “Yes, I’m still as excited and nervous as I was two minutes ago when you asked for the fortieth time,” he answered dryly. “Shouldn’t you be in Jagger’s office bending him over his desk and fucking all that sass out of him? His boldness has gotten out of control since falling in love with your sorry ass. Get back there and show him who’s boss.”

  Sage snickered softly but kept wiping at his empty glasses and checking and then rechecking his inventory. He also had a cheat sheet of mixology and would study that every few minutes. The poor kid was even more nervous than he was and that was saying a hell of a lot. Was it because he didn’t trust his bartending skills or was it from the shit show of Landry hitting on him he’d been forced to endure three days ago. Landry hung his head, still humiliated and ashamed of his behavior with the poor kid. He’d apologized more times than Jagger yelled at him for overspending on unnecessary, frivolous nonsense. Sage acted like he was fine, but Landry still worried. Wouldn’t it be sweet to have a sexual harassment charge against him before he even opened shop? He’d acted like such a fucktard and the sad part was he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was finished. The darkness was still creeping in and threatening to destroy the happiness he’d worked so hard to build. He desperately hoped that tonight would help vanquish the haunting pain. If he could just find the right Dom—someone to help ease him into subspace. In subspace, he wouldn’t have to worry about his past, present, or future. Fuck, he wanted it so bad. He wanted to just once be able to focus solely on him and his master—not remember all the men he’d slept with over the years. It was pathetic, but every damned time he tried to have sex, all those men would come back to haunt him and to remind him of what he was.

  Fuck, he needed his ass blistered to a bright red and then fucked even harder.

  “He locked me out,” Colton answered with a wounded puppy look on his handsome face. “He says I’m too distracting and he has work to do.”

  “Were you keeping him from his work?” The grin on Colton’s face told Landry he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d been bothering Jagger or at least trying to. Jagger, when working with numbers related to money, was hard to distract.

  “I was trying to bend him over the desk and fuck him,” Colton answered honestly. “That’s not too distracting, is it? I told him he could keep the computer open right in front of him as long as he kept his ass open for me.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine so,” Landry teased dryly. Moving around to the other side of the bar, he pulled out a ring of keys, selected one, and handed it to Colton. “If all I had to do to get rid of you was give you the key to Jagger’s office, I would have done it an hour ago.” He glanced down at his watch. “He’s due for a break anyway—distraction time!”

  Colton jerked the keys and moved so fast that Landry just then realized what Colton’s superpower was. It was loving Jagger. He also knew Jagger wouldn’t mind him handing over the key. Jagger had joked about locking Colton out of his office several times and promised to pay for the door when Colton knocked it off the hinges to get to him. If there was anybody in this lonely world that would appreciate saving door hinge expenses by handing Colton the key, it would be Jagger.

  A wave of loneliness swept over him. Perhaps he was due a break too? He could lock himself into his office and have a pity party for one. Yeah, that would be fu
n.

  “Do I get a key to your office as well?” A deep voice intruded on his pity party planning. Beside him he heard Sage give out a little squeak of alarm. He knew that voice, knew the beautiful, muscled body that accompanied it. His mind battled furiously with his body for several long seconds…before his mind lost. His body turned in the direction of the sexier than fuck voice.

  Shit. He was even hotter than Landry remembered. He consisted of nothing but hard muscles and alpha Dom attitude that Landry’s submissive body couldn’t help but respond to. The tattoos were covered with the sleeves of a soft linen shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the gorgeous chest beneath it…and everything to make it look damned fine. A pair of expensive slacks covered legs bulging with muscles and Landry instantly hated those pants—how dare they cover up something so incredibly sexy. The hair, almost as dark as his, was a bit longer…a bit wilder. His eyes, those fucking beautiful gray eyes, looked at him with the exact same hunger that was there the first time they’d met. They also twinkled with a naughty mischief that didn’t usually accompany any Dom that Landry had worked with in the past. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as good as the legend made him out to be?

  Doubtful. He looked damned good.

  “Most certainly not,” Landry snapped. “What are you doing here? We don’t open for another two hours.” See? He sounded perfectly normal. Didn’t he? No, he sounded like a breathless whore after a full night of fucking.

  “I like the hair, cotton candy,” Brookes remarked in that gravelly voice Landry had secretly been fantasizing about for weeks on end. “What made you decide to go au naturel for opening night? I love it, by the way. Very sexy. Edgy.”

  The words of praise from Brookes sent rippling waves of warm arousal over Landry, so he quickly squashed it down and struck out with his only weapon. His mouth. “Fuck off, Brookes. Why are you here?” Shit, why hadn’t he told him to quit calling him cotton candy? “And stop calling me that. I’m a grown man, asshole.” There, much better.