Dangerous

by RGAlexander

  “Of course it’s worth it. We already dealt with his doubts. He knows I love him. He knows I’m committed.”

  Brady scoffed. “I know he’s gotten you to open up more than anyone else ever has, but you always hold something back. Like the fact that you’ve wanted to propose since you moved in.”

  Owen stared at him in telling silence.

  “I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve been too afraid to ask because you can’t drag him to the altar the way you strong-armed your way into his pants and his house. He actually has to say yes to more than a shared pet and that is scaring the shit out of you. That’s why you’ve been pissed every time his phone rings. Why I knew it was time to pack up this morning. You want to pop the question.”

  Owen was evasive. “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome, I just thought… I don’t want to mess this up. If I’m doing it, it has to be right. And I need to have his undivided attention.”

  “Well, then take him to some romantic getaway where none of our relatives or his friends from the convention can get ahold of him. He’ll say yes. He would’ve said yes a year ago.” Brady paused and pounded the bar for emphasis. “But if you’re serious, be serious. You’re a Finn. We go all in or not at all. Don’t use this bullshit label excuse anymore, because honestly? It sounds like you’re keeping one foot out the door. Also, cool it with the jealous fishwife routine. You want to remind him of all the reasons he can’t live without you, not send him running in the other direction.”

  “He won’t be able to run.” The smile on his cousin’s face was disturbing. “Or answer his damn phone. I have a set of handcuffs and a paddle I can use that will make him agree to anything. Eventually.”

  The crowd at the bar cheered raucously and the camera focused on Brady’s grimace before he reached for yet another drink of rum.

  The woman in the tiara patted him on the shoulder, a wad of cash in her hand. “I always knew Cupid was a kinky redhead.”

  “I’m not kinky.”

  “Whatever. Now that you’ve solved his problem I have one that needs fixing. My friends hired a dancer for my birthday, but he didn’t show up and Seamus refuses to show me his shameless side. Take it off, Red. Take it all off!”

  The screen froze after that and Brady closed his eyes in humiliation. “So that really happened. I suppose it’s lucky I don’t have a lease and my passport’s still good. I can be out of the country by tomorrow.”

  Ken laughed and set his phone down. “Relax, Cupid. It only had a couple of views before I scrubbed it and closed that idiot’s account. He won’t be uploading anything for a while. Neither will his cats. I did save a copy for myself since I missed seeing it in person by mere minutes.”

  And that was why he’d been drinking so heavily. He remembered—Ken had sent him a text message a few minutes before his cousin arrived, telling him to stay at the pub because they needed to talk. Had they had a conversation? Was there a video of that too?

  Ken nudged his shoulder with his own. “No need to be embarrassed, Finn. That was an Academy-worthy speech, and long overdue. Owen can’t stay in his bubble forever. You could be the spokesperson for the LGBT community. The new slogan would be ‘Admit you’re gay, everyone else knows anyway.’”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Seriously, you’re a surprisingly eloquent drunk. And a talented stripper.”

  His throat closed in panic. “Tanaka, I swear—”

  “Kidding,” Ken interrupted, laying a hand on Brady’s biceps. “I’m kidding. I couldn’t resist. But you can. Even when I offered to pay every tab at the bar and people were chanting your name in their bid for free beer, you wouldn’t agree to stripping in public.”

  “Thank God for that.” Brady realized abruptly that his head had stopped pounding. “And thank you for pulling that video down. I don’t think I would’ve been welcome back for the holidays if anyone in the family had seen it. Seamus and Owen still might ban me for life after that performance.” What had he been thinking?

  Ken was caressing his arm now, a comforting, almost absent gesture that sent a blast of focused heat down his spine and straight to his cock. It was making it hard for Brady to breathe, but he couldn’t force himself to move away.

  “Seamus won’t admit it,” Ken said, “but he got a kick out of you reading the riot act to Owen. His twin might be a stuffy politician, but our bartender has a wild side. He’s just too busy being Super Dad to let it out.”

  Brady grinned wryly. “Stephen isn’t that stuffy.”

  “I am well aware.” Ken’s voice was a seduction. “I’ve seen Tasha in action at the club for years, and for weeks I’ve been seeing her glowing newlywed smile and their PDAs in the paper. No true vanilla could keep up with that sassy switch and make her as happy as he does.”

  Brady tensed in reaction and Ken’s hand fell away. “I don’t think I’m recovered enough to think about what my cousin can or can’t keep up with. And you know I had my fill of BDSM buzz words at Burke’s kinky party of the damned. I wanted to bleach my brain for weeks to forget it all—including the fact that vanilla refers to something other than a cool, delicious flavor of ice cream.”

  “You wanted to forget everything?”

  Brady looked down at his hands. Not everything, but he wasn’t recovered enough to think about that either.

  It had been a strange experience. Playing Senator Stephen Finn’s bodyguard for the federal investigation into Burke’s illegal activities was a little too eye-opening for Brady’s peace of mind. At least the sight of naked men voluntarily being strapped to crosses and women wagging their furry tails as they drank from a dish on the floor had shocked him out of his own head. He would be grateful if he could stop cringing every time he thought about it.

  Kink was not his scene.

  It was, however, Ken’s. Seeing him at Burke’s house, watching the way everyone looked to him for approval and how expertly he worked those ropes, had made it clear he was in his element.

  It had also gotten Brady so hard he’d had to walk away more than once to recover his composure. The one time he couldn’t, Ken had kissed him, and it had been better than the best sex he’d ever had—which was sad when he let himself think about it.

  But not even the intense chemistry between them would get Brady to date a man who considered pain and bondage a form of foreplay. Being tied up wasn’t sexy; it was a training exercise in surviving interrogation and torture.

  Brady still had no idea what had happened after his pub speech. A smart man wouldn’t ask. A smart man would find his clothes and leave as fast as his hangover would let him.

  Brady clearly wasn’t that smart.

  He turned his head to stare into golden eyes that were far too close for comfort. “Why am I here, Tanaka? Tell me the truth.”

  Ken’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “Truth? You’re here because Seamus is an easy mark, so the room behind the pub—the room Jen stayed in until she went back to college—is occupied for the next two weeks. Knowing him, it’s probably another damsel in distress. Let’s just hope she doesn’t have a child in need of adopting. Seamus already has a full house.”

  He vaguely recalled it now. Seamus felt so guilty for not being able to help Brady right away that he’d offered him a drink on the house. And then another.

  “Since you couldn’t crash there, you had to start thinking about other options. You told me about your situation and I offered you a place to stay in exchange for your services.”

  And Brady had agreed? To live with Ken? He’d actually thought that was a good idea? Talk about impaired decision-making skills.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Brady gathered the sheet and stood up, away from temptation. “I have options. A few of them include couches I can sleep on free of charge until I find a place of my own.”

  Ken stood as he did, his arms crossed over his bare chest, drawing Brady’s gaze to the silver cross that hung from an overlong chain around his neck. Had he seen that before? He didn’t thin
k so.

  “I know about your options, Finn. Five brothers and a father who’d all be willing to let you stay with them as long as you started acting like yourself again and rejoined the police force. As long as you told exciting war stories while pretending your years in the military hadn’t changed you.”

  “Wow.” Brady ran his free hand through his hair, clutching the sheet with the other. “I do talk a lot when I’m drunk. And you were nice enough to give me a ride anyway. Sorry about that.”

  Ken’s expression was intimate. “I’m not. Last night was unforgettable. For some of us. And I was already planning on asking for your help. We make a good team.”

  That was true enough. They’d toppled the corrupt Burke and the complicit local paper that was a part of his media empire. They’d also saved Seamus from losing Little Sean and gotten Tasha and Stephen back together, though Brady knew that most of it was Ken’s doing. He was just the muscle who did good legwork. Tanaka had been the brain.

  “So…you want me for a job? That’s why I spent the night? You and I—we didn’t…”

  Ken’s eyes sparkled with humor. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking.”

  He strode up to Brady and gripped a handful of sheet in both hands and twisted so it tightened around his hips. He could feel the heat from Ken’s body wrapping around him just as tightly. Holding him captive. “You don’t remember the things you admitted to? The things you offered? Nothing?”

  Brady swallowed hard. Hell. “No.”

  Ken whistled, drawing Brady’s attention to his pursed lips. “Too bad. What you said made it nearly impossible for me not to pick up where we left off the last time I saw you. And when you asked me to help take off your clothes—”

  “Damn it, Tanaka.” Brady grabbed one of Ken’s wrists in rough warning. “Don’t dick around.”

  Bad choice of words. Ken’s bringing up the last time they saw each other only made his current state of arousal harder to ignore.

  Ken on his knees, sucking your cock.

  Brady’s fingers flexed in memory and Ken bit his lip. “Mmm, I do love that strong grip of yours. Brings back memories. You know, if you weren’t so disgusted by kink I might think we shared an interest in noncon, but sadly, you are as vanilla as a gay Irish Marine can be.”

  Brady dropped his wrist a little too quickly. “What the hell is noncon?”

  Refusing to release him, Ken gave him the kind of smile Lucifer must have worn the moment before he fell. “Consensual non-consent, Finn. A little game where one of us pretends to resist while the other forces us to take it. To love it.” He licked his lips and Brady suppressed another shiver of awareness. “Shame, really. You’re big enough to be a challenge and I have a thing for muscle-bound gingers who talk too much when they drink.”

  Damn. “Tanaka—”

  “Yes, I know, I know. That one party scarred you for life and the subject is off the table forever. For the record, you slept alone last night. I was on the couch in case you needed me, but I’ll sleep in the bed in my office if you decide to stay.”

  That was the answer he’d been waiting for. Ken had slept on the couch. They hadn’t given in to desire and ripped each other’s clothes off. Why was Brady disappointed?

  “Here’s the plan, Finn. You’re going to take a shower and think about what you want to do. Stay with me and help someone that no one else can, or go home and deal with your family’s expectations. Either way, your duffel is at the foot of the bed and there’s a clean towel and packaged toothbrush for you in the bathroom.”

  Ken released him and took a step back. “I’ll have breakfast waiting when you’re done and we can talk about what you’ve decided.”

  Brady let the dictatorial tone slide as he thought about his options. Home or Tanaka. Judgmental concern or dangerous temptation. He could always take door number three, he knew. Just leave. Go somewhere with the money he’d inherited from his mother and start again. Alone.

  Shower. Right now he just wanted a shower. “I appreciate it. This. All the trouble you’re going to.”

  Ken turned away and his long black braid swung with the motion, striking Brady’s side. “Don’t thank me again, Finn. Just say yes.”

  He wanted to. He studied Tanaka’s tattooed back with hungry eyes and wanted to agree to anything he asked. The strength of his desire scared him. It had from the moment they met.

  Without his self-control he’d have nothing. That was why, if he were a smart man, he would say no to the job and get the hell out of there. Being around Ken Tanaka made him unpredictable. Tempted him to let go and give in.

  He swore under his breath and headed toward the shower. Last night proved he wasn’t that bright. One evening of drinking was all it had taken to alienate family, nearly embarrass them all online and go home with the one man he most wanted to avoid.

  He was never drinking again.

  Chapter Two

  “Tanaka?” Brady walked out of the bedroom buttoning his jeans, his black shirt thrown over his shoulder. “Am I dreaming, or do I smell bacon?”

  He was starving. Whatever was in that nasty swamp remedy, it had done the trick. If he hadn’t watched the video with his own eyes, Brady could almost convince himself he’d never gotten drunk at all.

  He saw a covered plate with a Post-it note beside it. Taking an office call then grabbing a shower for myself. Eat.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Brady saw the carafe of orange juice and poured some in a large glass with ice before carrying it and his plate to the living room. He’d been here before, though he’d spent most of his time across the hall in Tanaka’s office—basically a studio apartment filled with computer towers, monitors and the kind of surveillance equipment that would make any super spy envious.

  Ken didn’t just own a downtown loft in a refurbished three-story warehouse—he owned and lived in the entire building. The first time Brady followed him here and saw his living space, he’d wondered aloud if the Scottish-Japanese technophile wanted to be Batman.

  “You already have the lair, the finances and the right equipment,” he’d said.

  “Why do you ask? Do you have a fetish for rich men in masks?” Ken asked, smiling that angelic smile.

  “I don’t have fetishes,” Brady responded quickly. “But he isn’t my type. He’s got a cave full of baggage and relies on toys instead of natural talent. Give me Superman any day.”

  Tanaka’s expression had changed, a flash of irritation mixed with hunger. “He’s got plenty of natural talent,” he’d muttered before changing the conversation back to the Finn family’s Burke problem.

  Sitting on the leather couch, Brady set his glass on the coffee table and dug into his vegetable omelet and crisp bacon while studying the loft with fresh eyes. It was big enough to fit a car inside and still have room for a party. So much open space for one man, though the way it was laid out created the feel of several rooms without the use of hallways or closed doors.

  The man who hacked into other people’s private lives obviously didn’t feel the need for his own privacy—either that or his decorator was one of those Peeping Toms from the club. There wasn’t even a door to his bathroom, just frosted glass blocks forming a partition between it and the living room.

  That had given Brady pause…until he’d experienced the shower itself. It seemed to be made with his six-foot-five height and wide frame in mind. A rain showerhead sprouted from the ceiling, rather than the wall-mounted type that usually hit him squarely in the chest, and there was plenty of room to turn around. By the time he’d finished, he was considering staying and doing the job for the shower alone.

  And that bed… Brady was not a small man, but he’d only taken up half the space on a mattress that was exactly firm enough and covered with sheets that felt like fluffy damn clouds. The mattress and the frame had to be custom made, since for the first time in his life his feet didn’t hang off the end. Call him Goldilocks, but that bed was just right.

  He c
ould only imagine what Ken needed with a bed like that. Orgies came to mind. Kinky, BDSM free-for-alls with plenty of lube and restraints to go around. His cock twitched at the thought of Ken and lube, and Brady frowned down at his empty plate, wishing he hadn’t eaten so fast. The food had been delicious and eating would distract him from thinking about sex.

  Why did Tanaka have to be so damn perfect at everything? Cool computer genius, athletic martial artist, super sleuth, master chef and—according to Tasha and Owen—king of all things rope related. But those two had no idea where his true talents lay.

  Brady exhaled and set down his plate so he could adjust himself through the snug denim as he thought about Ken’s wickedly skilled mouth. He’d had his first taste of that skill at Burke’s. They’d caught each other in the act, both snooping around somewhere they didn’t belong. Brady had set out to test Tanaka, to make sure he wouldn’t run to Burke to tell him the senator’s body man was in his private office. Faster than he’d expected, the casual interrogation had become intimate and laced with sexual innuendo. Before he knew it he was leaning against the desk and Ken was devastating him with his mouth, undoing his pants and leaving Brady too stunned to respond.

  It still shocked him when he thought about it. How he’d been drawn to him like a magnet to metal from minute one. Tasha interrupted them just in time and he had to be grateful. One more taste of those talented lips and taunting tongue and Brady would have had Ken Tanaka right there on the floor, without knowing or caring that they were both on the same side. Both working for the feds to trip up their host.

  He’d tried to steer clear after that, shaken by his own behavior, and then everything had gone to hell. Tasha ran away and Stephen lost it, and all Brady wanted to do, all he could think about doing for weeks, was fixing it. Luckily, Ken had the same idea.

  A few months later the two men were being hailed as conquering heroes at the reunited couple’s wedding reception. Brady hadn’t wanted the attention but Ken had loved it, spending the evening pressing up against Brady each time someone wanted a picture. When the photographer asked for a shot of Ken and Brady with the bride and groom on the dock, Brady had seen Ken whispering in the grinning Tasha’s ear. A few minutes later all three men were in the lake and Tasha had gotten her favorite snapshot of the wedding. She’d actually had it framed and placed on her fireplace mantle.