by Elle Keaton
“No Parker, keep going,” Seth quipped.
They both laughed out loud, a wholesome sound that reverberated across the yard. Something he hadn’t heard much. Sacha was mildly irritated, but also flattered that Seth was curious enough to pump Parker for information.
“Seeing as the information I get is secondhand because he cut me off for years, I can’t guarantee any of it is still correct.”
Human trafficking cases and witness relocation were low on the list of subjects Sacha cared to chat about.
“So, Parker, the time has come for you to ’fess up. What has you fleeing the East Coast, giving Mae-Lin enough of a sob story that she told you where I was? What’s going on with you and that roommate of yours?”
Parker shifted in his seat. Running his hand through his disheveled blond hair, making it stand on end, he took a deep breath. Sacha braced himself.
“Quit stalling. And don’t even think about leaving anything out,” he snapped. “If we’re going to figure whatever this is out, I need all the facts. What hornet’s nest have you disturbed this time?”
“Okay, so, I left Zeke, kind of.” Parker’s voice was quiet.
“Kind of?” He sent up a quick prayer for patience. “You either did or didn’t. Pregnant, not pregnant.”
Parker squinted at him. “You know we can’t do that, right?”
“Quit trying to avoid the subject. Which is you right now, and why you’re here.”
“I got tired of Zeke’s bullshit, ghosting me when it wasn’t convenient to have a boyfriend. Then when he was lonely, or what the fuck ever, he acknowledged I existed.”
There was more to that part of the story, but it could wait.
“It was stupid, I know, but I was fed up. All my friends spent so much time warning me and then saying ‘I told you so,’ acting like they knew everything and never messed up.” He sniffed, and Sacha wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tight. “Sometimes, you know, you don’t need that kind of response, you need someone to say, ‘Hey, that’s fucked up, let’s get drunk and plot his death.’ Not really, you know; imaginary.” He twisted to look at Sacha.
“Yeah, I know. Keep going.” Parker snuggled into him.
“So I packed my shit, but the only place I could think of to stay was his boat. I borrowed the keys. I was only going to stay there a night. Two at the most. I needed to think about stuff.”
“What is a cop doing with a boat?” Cop salaries were not that good.
“I don’t know. He’s had it as long as I’ve known him. He said something about family,” he said bitterly. Regardless of Parker’s front, he was still smarting from what had happened between himself and Zeke. “Anyway, I was asleep on the boat. I didn’t bother having lights on—I wasn’t supposed to be there, right? I dropped my stuff and went to bed.”
Sacha hadn’t been paying much attention to the news, but even he’d caught the coverage of a huge marina fire in Florida. He’d been at the gym, maybe, and the newscaster kept talking about the millions of dollars in luxury yachts that had been lost. Some dot-com guy had his second boat stored there, and it had gone up like a Roman candle.
“Please tell me you were not sleeping on a boat berthed at that marina in Melbourne that burned to the fucking waterline a while back.” Sacha had a headache, and his brother hadn’t even been in Skagit an hour.
Parker hunched further inward and whispered, “Uh. Yeah. Can’t do that.”
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. The footage from the fire had been horrifying. The fire had been huge, with flames reaching thirty feet and higher into the inky darkness of a Florida night. Fuck, he could have lost Parker forever and this cringe-worthy moment might never have happened. He thanked whatever deity he needed to for his little brother still being alive.
Seth broke the silence. “Anybody else for another beer? I know I need one.”
“Bring out the whole pack. I’m going to need more than one. Please,” Parker asked.
Seth disappeared inside, taking their dinner plates with him. Sacha heard the fridge open and him rummaging around. Silence settled over the backyard like a blanket. He heard the fridge door shut and Seth’s footsteps fading further into the house.
“So, Seth, huh?” Parker nudged Sacha with his knee.
“Do not try to redirect.”
“I’m not; I’m glad for you. I’ve always thought you were lonely. He seems like a nice guy. Different from the macho Marshal types.”
The things Parker got him to talk about. Probably why he’d avoided him for so long.
“Have you always been into guys? Or both? Any women?” Parker tilted his head. Trust Parker to go for the jugular.
“A couple. No one worth changing my life for.”
They could hear Seth doing something in the kitchen again, pouring chips into a bowl, maybe.
“No one cares anymore. Not really,” Parker said into the darkness.
“I know.” It was Sacha’s turn to rub his hands on his face, wanting this conversation to be over but needing it so badly. “It’s hard.”
Parker snickered. “In all seriousness, it’s not that hard. You make everything harder than it should be. He likes you; kiss him already and see where it goes. I don’t think he’ll punch you for it.”
“You’ve always been out, Parker.”
“Yeah, not by choice,” he muttered.
“True, but I was never out; it was much easier for me to hide. And I’m learning it’s a hard habit to break.”
No way was Sacha going to tell him what they had already done, that Sacha’s world had already changed for the better. He hoped. It was hard to change a lifetime of ingrained hiding and subversion. Probably it was partially his personality, but almost everything he’d experienced in life added to his innate need for self-protection. Until Seth, there’d been no reason to try.
“What’d I miss?” Seth had a six-pack in one hand, a plate with some cut-up cheese and apples in the other. “Just a sec, lemme grab the crackers.” Sacha watched as he climbed the three steps into the kitchen.
“Jesus, if you don’t do something you’re going to explode. Maybe I should kiss him for you?” Sacha whipped around to glare at Parker; fucker had a knowing smirk on his face. “I bet I could make it good for him, even though he’s not my type.”
Seth returned, plopping crackers on the small side table and handing beers around before sitting back in his lounge chair. He stretched out his long legs and looked expectantly at Sacha and Parker, eyebrows raised. Grinning, Parker chuckled, and Sacha groaned inwardly, sending up another prayer for patience. “Shut it, kid,” he grumbled.
Parker picked up where he’d left off. Although there wasn’t much more to the story, unfortunately it was the important part.
He’d been asleep when he smelled the smoke, and awoke confused and disoriented but alert enough to know he needed to get out of there. When he heard terrifying pops and crackles getting closer and smoke began to pour into the cabin area, he cut his losses and ran as fast as he could. He’d barely managed to escape with his backpack and the clothes he was wearing.
The marina went up fast, because nothing burns like boats with tanks full of fuel as an accelerant. The fire burned so hot engines couldn’t get close, and even the fireboat was restricted. Parker ran and didn’t look back. The next day, when the fire was all over the news, he learned there had been a body floating amongst the burned-out fiberglass shells of the yachts… a body that was apparently connected with the de Vega crime family. It was a good thing Parker had never been struck by lightning; he would absolutely be one of those people it hit twice.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it!” he protested, seeming to know the path along which Sacha’s mind had wandered.
“Zeke seemed pissed and worried, apparently. Mae-Lin talked to him when you didn’t call her.” Sacha waited a beat to see if Parker would realize what he’d forgotten.
“Fucking fuck, I missed her birthday.”
“I alr
eady got her the shoes; you’re going to have to fork out for the bag.”
Sacha noted Parker’s lack of reaction to the fact that his ex-boyfriend still seemed to have some kind of emotional investment. He wondered if Parker really understood what it was like to be an out gay cop. Every day worrying and wondering if, when push came to shove, the people you needed most would have your back. If instead they would help put you six feet under. There were places he’d heard weren’t so bad, but Sacha himself couldn’t have done that. He could relate to Zeke, and that’s why he’d never pursued anyone before. It wouldn’t have been fair.
“Busted. Anyway, he had no idea where you had gone. Why come here?”
“It’s far away from the East Coast,” Parker mumbled. “I need time to think, I guess, get away from everything.”
“I get that, I do, but does everything have to be so fucking dramatic with you? Couldn’t you have had an adult discussion with Zeke? Instead, as usual, you react and get yourself involved in a fucking arson and probable murder—and then you flee the scene so you look like you have something to hide. And, by the way, although I am shocked that Mae didn’t say anything, I retired, so if you need help getting out of a jam it’s going to be a little harder.”
“You retired?” Parker squeaked. “I mean, that’s great.”
Seth piped up, “We could call Adam, see if he can find something out.”
He’d been so quiet Sacha had mostly put him out of his mind.
Sacha narrowed his eyes, a slippery half-thought trying to make itself known. “Adam?” There was only one Adam in town Sacha knew, but it was a relatively common name.
“Adam Klay, Micah’s boyfriend. My half-brother. He’s not a Marshal, he’s a Fed.”
“Fuuuuuck.” Adam fucking Klay. Right. Because of course Seth was Adam’s half-brother. The two men did look similar, now that he knew. He should have known; fate liked her little jokes.
“Parker…” Sacha looked over at one of the few people he considered family. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”
Parker cast a tragic glance at him. “I dunno. I’m sorry I’m useless. Everything I do ends up in a big clusterfuck.” He sniffed. “I’m tired of feeling like nothing matters, like I’m inconsequential, with nothing anybody wants.”
This was the Parker who really scared Sacha. He could handle the dog rescuer, signing on to be a summer nanny only to discover the parents were swingers and tried to include him in their fun and games, or the accidental accountant for the mob… but a defeated, scared, hopeless Parker, that’s the one who always got him in trouble. People looked at Parker—slight, cute boyish looks, blond hair usually cut in a kind of party-boy style, and thought he was simple, easy.
“The first thing we have to do is reach out to some people and see what the authorities aren’t telling the media. We need someone to talk to your boyfriend—”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
Sacha waved a hand. “Whatever. I’ll make some phone calls… and yeah, I should probably reach out to Klay.” He ran his hand through his short hair, tugging on it painfully. “Fuck. First, Parker, I need some answers.”
Sixteen
Seth
“Where have you been since the fire?” Sacha’s focus on Parker was intense, laser sharp. Seth wouldn’t last under that hard stare—or maybe he would; it was pretty hot.
Parker winced, his blond eyebrows coming together in a V. “I didn’t know there was a security camera at the marina. I was trying to save my life, not play ‘Unnamed Male Character, first to die in Bond movie.’ With all the fire trucks and other responders arriving on the scene it was chaos, and I managed to slip out. I freaked out because… you know…”
Sacha nodded.
“Yeah, so.” He paused to take a gulp of his beer. “When I saw on the news that a body had been discovered, I didn’t know what to do. I’m not a cop. After I finished freaking out, I went and took out as much cash as I could. Then I holed up at a motel for a while.”
Sacha snorted. “Only you would become an accountant, inadvertently find your first job with a firm fixing the books for a company claiming to be a nonprofit, and end up being a whistle-blower at the ripe age of twenty-five.”
“Really?” Seth looked back and forth between the two of them.
Parker answered, “Yeah, really, mad skills. Kind of why I’m not an accountant anymore and have a thing for cops, I guess. What else did Zeke have to say?”
Whatever Parker claimed had motivated him to leave his boyfriend, he wasn’t as done with this Zeke guy as he claimed. “You’ll have to talk to Mae,” Sacha taunted.
Parker grimaced.
“Anyway, I mostly laid low, waiting to see if the cops would catch the real criminals who did this and not some lowlife trespasser who’d been illegally staying on his ex-boyfriend’s boat.” He took another long gulp of his beer.
Night had fallen; the backyard was in complete darkness except for the light leaking onto the yard from the open kitchen door, but Seth didn’t need to see Parker’s expression to know he was lost and a little scared. Privately, Seth thought Parker should be more scared, but maybe it was the “Sacha effect.” “So, what are we going to do?” he asked.
Sacha narrowed his eyes. Seth felt a delightful shiver run down his spine. “Don’t you fucking dare. I take care of my own.”
“Dude, the lone cowboy thing is not going to fly. Seriously, call Adam.”
“Oh, wow. This is going to be awesome,” Parker breathed. “l want popcorn with my front-row seat.”
Seth chuckled. Parker was funny, and it was awesome to see Sacha flustered and protective.
“I can tell we’re going to get along.”
Sacha groaned, covering his face with his hands. Seth made eye contact with Parker, and they both snickered.
“Fine. I’ll call Adam, but for my own sanity I am waiting until tomorrow. I can’t handle any more of this crazy right now. For the rest of tonight we are pretending everything is normal.” He raised an eyebrow in Parker’s direction. “As normal as it can be, at any rate.”
Parker sputtered and muttered something about showing Sacha who was normal.
Taking pity on both of them, Seth handed Sacha another beer. At this rate someone was going to need to run to the store for more. Sacha snatched it from him, popped the cap, and guzzled half of it while Parker and Seth watched in silence. As he set the bottle down, a breeze finally mustered the strength to make itself felt, and the three of them sighed in relief. It wouldn’t be the heat that killed them tonight.
Relaxed Sacha was hilarious. He and Parker regaled Seth with stories from their childhood. Sacha steered clear of stories about being in the Marshals, but he did tell a couple pretty funny ones from when he’d been an MP.
“I was so green, not prepared for the on-base domestic calls. Most calls we got were for drunkenness or domestics. My favorite was when we stopped a woman for weaving all over the road. My partner leans in the window, ‘I need some ID, ma’am.’ She asks, ‘Which one?’ then opens her wallet and she has two different sets of military ID.” He snorted. “She was so drunk she forgot she was committing bigamy, married to a seaman and an airman. We laughed about that for months. Drunk driving and bigamy.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way.”
And so it went.
The weather broke later that night, or morning. Sometime around three a.m., before true light but long past midnight, clouds rolled in, blanketing the region and lowering the temperature significantly. With all the windows open, his house was freezing. Seth’d woken up shivering, the blankets on his bed long crumpled into a heap on his floor in favor of a single sheet. They’d all gone to sleep in separate beds, otherwise he would’ve wrapped himself around the warmth of Sacha’s body.
“Crud,” he muttered. He dragged himself up and searched groggily in the half-light for the sweatpants and T-shirt he’d taken off the night before. Stumbling out into the living room, he found Parker asleep,
huddled under a throw blanket.
Quietly, Seth made his way around the house shutting windows, trying to stay as asleep as possible. He turned from the last window, the one over the kitchen sink, and slammed into a hard chest. Before he could cry out, lips came down on his, swallowing the sound. Sacha’s tongue licked his lips, requesting entrance. Of course he could come in. He could come anywhere he wanted.
He welcomed Sacha’s invasion, their tongues dancing together and against each other. It was heady; Seth was having a hard time remembering to breathe.
“I missed you in my bed, next to me.”
Seth’s stomach clenched. The things Sacha said messed with his resolve to keep things casual.
“Yes. But my bed, not that thing you are sleeping on,” Seth whispered back.
“Whatever you want,” Sacha growled before pushing him up against the counter and trapping him there with his long arms.
“My bed,” Seth repeated.
Sacha manhandled him across the kitchen and down the tiny hallway into his bedroom. Seth could have sworn he heard a snigger from the living room but chose to pretend he didn’t. It was incredible how Sacha changed when they were in the privacy of the bedroom, self-assured and comfortable with what they were about to do.
They fucked and weren’t quiet about it.
Parker glared at them when they emerged several hours later.
“What?” Sacha asked, as if he hadn’t gotten Seth so wound up and turned on that by the time he came it was doubtful the entire neighborhood didn’t know he was getting laid. The man had a very inventive imagination, which he put to good use on Seth’s body. He tried hiding his smile, but Parker spotted it.
“I don’t even know you anymore, but seriously? I am not old enough for all of what I heard going on in there. And you could have told me you were, you know, sexing it up already.”
“Ear plugs, Parker. Ear plugs,” Sacha teased.
Parker grumbled something under his breath and pulled the blanket closer around him. His hair was sticking up all over the place; he looked like a cartoon character.
