by J. M. Dabney
“Come with me,” he ordered and grabbed the protesting man’s arm and hauled him toward the rear exit. The owner of the store just waved as he passed.
Yeah, everyone knew he wasn’t right, and it worked to his advantage.
He circled back around to his van, the man wasn’t protesting, but that might be the shock he could see in the stranger’s pretty eyes. Whatever worked, as long as it lasted until he got the stranger home.
He shoved the man into the vehicle and climbed over him to get to the driver’s seat. He calmly did a U-turn and pulled out, headed for the highway and home.
Was He Just Kidnapped?
The scenery flew by in a blur, Solomon Poe tried to remember the classes he took on self-defense. Did you open the door and tuck and roll? They said never let them take you to the second location. Oh my goodness, he was going to die. Either by breaking his neck when he threw himself from a moving vehicle or when the smiling man beside him got to wherever the stranger was taking him. He reached for the door handle and heard the lock click.
“Don’t think about it.”
That wasn’t creepy at all.
One minute he’d been looking at diet pills and protein bars, and the next he was trapped inside some strange man’s van. What if he pretended to faint or something? Would the guy pull the vehicle over to give him a chance to run? Then he groaned at the running part because he would hyperventilate after a few feet.
He jiggled his belly and sighed. He was going to die.
The van veered suddenly, and he almost fell between the seats. He braced his hands-on the hardest thigh he’d ever felt in his life. There was more muscle in that one leg than he had in his entire body. They pulled up to a warehouse. The metal exterior was rusted, and the windows shuttered. The man reached up and hit what looked like a garage door opener. Two massive doors creaked open, and then they drove slowly inside.
The interior was pitch black, and his eyes squinted as floodlights came on. He unlocked the door and clawed at the handle, he was out of the van within seconds and ran for the slowly closing doors. He knew once they locked he was trapped.
He mentally yelled yes as he slipped through the doors and instantly stopped in his tracks. He turned to find his shirt trapped in the closed doors. He ripped his bow tie loose and was just working loose the buttons on his bright yellow shirt when a shadow crossed over him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
What did he think he was doing? What kind of stupid— He sighed as he looked down at himself. His paisley bow tie lay dusty and rumpled on the ground, and his shirt opened to expose his pale, hairless chest. This was how he was going to die.
The guy seemed so calm and collected. Of course he was, the man was going to kill him and hide his body, and no one would look for him. No one who’d worry until the smell of his decomposing body alerted them to his presence.
“You're not answering me.”
The big guy blinked his eyes, the thick fringe of his lashes caressed his broad cheekbones. The man looked almost innocent, well as innocent as a suspected sociopathic serial killer could.
“I'm trying or was trying to escape.”
“Oh. I did this shit all wrong.”
The guy dug a phone out of his back pocket and seemed to hit speed dial. Was he calling his partner? Oh shit, he was going to be killed by two crazy people now.
“Lily, I think I did something wrong.”
The sweet feminine voice coming over the speaker reassured him for a minute until what she said registered.
“When all else fails, a shovel and lye, son.”
“No, lightning struck, or more like five rapid to the gut. Made me feel like I needed to puke.”
Wasn't that…attractive?
“Oh, oh, I'm so happy, who's your person? It's not a cop, is it? I can only handle one cop son-in-law.”
Person? Son-in-law? What was going on?
“Um, I may have kidnapped him without realizing it?”
May have kidnapped? This was a kidnapping, buddy.
“Kidnapping, that's so romantic!”
Romantic, romantic, was the woman, hell, this appeared to be the crazy man's mother.
“Who did our son kidnap?”
There was another one, but this voice was calmer and whiskey smooth and sounded a bit bored.
“Lightning struck, made him feel like he wanted to puke.”
“Congratulations, son, bring your person for Sunday dinner to meet everyone.”
Were these people not understanding the concept of kidnapping?
“I don't think he likes me very much.”
Oh no, he would not feel remorse by being assaulted by huge, sad eyes that may appear slightly watery.
“Of course he does, Harmon, he just needs to get to know you. You didn't take him home, did you? Your place was a fucking disaster when I brought you your trees the other day.”
“I cleaned, Lily.”
“I don't see why you don't let me hire you a cleaning person…they have some great nude options. I could get you a man and woman team.”
“I don't need strangers in my place. I gotta talk to him, I'll call you—”
“Call if you need bail money, we set you up a fund. We love you, Harmon.”
“Love y'all too, bye.” The man disconnected the call and raised his hand to rub the back of his neck and worried the ring through his bottom lip. “You're gonna make me beg and apologize, ain't ya?”
As soon as Harmon finished the question, the doors started to open, and he almost fell, but strong hands steadied him, then the man stepped back.
“You kidnapped me.” He momentarily felt stupid for stating the obvious, but he had to admit he was frazzled.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“Apparently.” He was feeling bitchy, and his super cute kidnapper pouting made him feel guilty for it.
“I’m sorry,” Harmon mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I’m sorry, okay, there I said it.”
“You know apologies work better when you actually sound remorseful.”
“I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m Harmon Little, but everyone just calls me Little.”
There wasn’t anything little about the man in front of him. The man was so big that it cast him in shadow. Introductions should make him worried, didn’t that mean imminent death because he knew the man’s name and description?
“Solomon Poe.”
A broad smile pulled at the corners of Harmon’s wide mouth. “Pretty name. You’re wearing my favorite color.”
The man seemed to reach for him before he clenched his fists and shoved his hands behind his back.
“Can you take me back to my car now?”
Little hesitated long enough for him to start worrying.
“I might have to call someone else to take you.”
“Why?”
“I fucked up a job. I got made, and they’ll be looking for me.”
“Will they—”
“No, they didn’t see you, but they definitely…Linus is going to be so pissed. They’ll put my baby on the roof again. Do you know how much of a bitch it is to get a van off a roof? Fucking nightmare and that’s after I can find it.”
He’d wonder if he was drugged, maybe he was hallucinating from hunger. There was no appropriate food in his fridge, so he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Maybe it’s dehydration? His personal trainer pushed him every evening until his muscles screamed in pain. The guy was probably in the running for Sadist of the Year. He’d gotten home from working out and had fallen into bed hungry and exhausted. He was tired of being the pudgy guy no man wanted. He had six months before his thirtieth birthday, and he was going to be rocking six-pack abs if it killed him—it was going to kill him.
At the thought he realized his shirt was unbuttoned, he started to pick up his tie, but Harmon got to it first. He was uncomfortable with the way Harmon just watched him. He f
elt like a science project. The man rubbed the silky fabric of his tie between his thick, blunt fingers. He observed the way Harmon licked his lips, and he backed up into the pitch-black warehouse.
Opposite way, idiot, he scolded.
“I’ll call you a ride.” Harmon’s words rushed past his lips, and he charged around him.
He was dizzy, one minute the man snatched him from a grocery store aisle, trapped him in a warehouse, and suddenly seemed like he couldn’t get away fast enough. He pivoted on his toes and jogged to keep up. Once again spotlights came on and extinguished with their progression. He wondered if the man was scared of the dark or just paranoid, he would bet his last dollar it was paranoia.
A workspace with at least ten monitors and two overflowing trash cans of energy drinks set off to the side, and he approached as he kept an eye on Harmon’s broad back. Harmon spun a large, worn desk chair and motioned for him to sit.
“Your mother seems…interesting.”
“Not my mother, best friend.”
Harmon punched a button on a landline phone and stood back with his arms crossed over his chest. His tie was crushed in Harmon’s hand, but he thought better of asking for it back.
Best friend? She seemed more dementedly maternal than friend-like, but he didn’t argue.
“Your fucking ass is in trouble.” A gravelly and exceptionally scary voice filled the space.
“Don’t start, dude, it wasn’t my—”
“Little, it’s never your fault…the boss was called away from his men.”
“Shit.”
A masculine yet soft giggle sounded, broken by an obscene moan. Oh no, they couldn’t be doing—a high-pitched squeal sealed it. They were.
“Man, could you get your man off your dick for a minute while we talk.”
“Not happening, my boy is staying right where he is.”
There was a whispered, I didn’t tell you to stop, boy.
This wasn’t happening.
“I need you to transport a package for me.”
“What about having my husband on my dick are you not getting?”
“Well, pound one out and do me this favor. You know you ain’t happy if Fielding ain’t limping.”
“Give me an hour.”
“Are you sure it won’t be two?”
“I’ll make sure he’s good and ready—”
Harmon thankfully disconnected the call before the man could finish whatever statement he was about to make.
“Sorry about that, newlyweds, and,” Harmon cleared his throat, “Liv’s a bit…possessive.”
“Okay.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I guess, do you have more than…energy drinks?”
“Oh shit, I don’t know.” Harmon wrung his large hands, then grinned. “Apple juice!”
He was grabbed again, and the light show restarted, this time they walked into what looked to be the living area. No walls, no shadows, but this time Harmon turned on lamps beside a raggedy couch. Boxes upon boxes of snacks, bags of chips, there wasn’t a non-processed food anywhere in the kitchen area.
Still holding his hand, Harmon opened the refrigerator, one whole shelf strained under the weight of cans of heart attack, along with the drawers at the bottom. The other shelf contained bottles of apple juice. Harmon didn’t have food in there at all.
“I’m not going to run,” he said as he tried to free his hand.
“Oh, sorry.”
Harmon dropped his hand like it burned him.
He took the bottle of juice Harmon handed him.
“Can I have my tie back?”
“I don’t know where it is.”
His brows drew together as he watched Harmon shove the fabric deeper into his pocket. Harmon strode quickly to the couch and plopped down. He cringed at the crack of wood as it sounded like something broke.
“You can have my chair.”
Harmon looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. He assumed this was a bachelor pad. He’d never been to another man’s house before; he didn’t even have male friends. To be honest, he didn’t have friends at all. The closest he came to having one would be Grace. She owned a local thrift store, but they didn’t hang out beyond the time it took him to shop.
He walked toward the recliner, turned and perched on the edge of the seat. The silence was thick, and Harmon sat there with his fingers linked, tapping his thumbs together. The man looked everywhere but at him. For someone who’d kidnapped him and wanted his company so much, Harmon was quiet and awkward.
“What is it you do for a living?”
“I work for a security company.”
“Security guard?”
“No, electronic surveillance and sometimes bodyguard. Every so often one of my boss’ husbands, Hunter, and me break security systems to test designs.”
“Oh, sounds interesting. What does breaking security systems entail?”
“Some breaking and entering, Hunter deals with the computer part, and I’m more hands on. It’s fun, and the money isn’t bad.”
Harmon’s evident uneasiness at talking about himself caused his curiosity to intensify. The man was an enigma, in charge and then pulling back to the point of shutting down.
“What about the surveillance?”
“Planting bugs, cameras, following people, spending lots of time in my van taking pictures.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not a stalker!”
He jumped, and Harmon’s mortification amused him. Harmon’s eyes were wide and rounded. Okay, the big guy was kind of cute. This was the weirdest day of his life. He scooted farther back and relaxed into the thick cushions. He leaned his head on his raised palm to wait for the strange man to come pick him up.
The thought that he had to wait for a man to finish having sex with his husband to come pick him up caused him to shake his head. He sighed heavily and the adrenaline of the last hour rushed away, he yawned and fought sleep, but it pulled at him.
His head fell to the side, and his eyes popped open, the sight in front of him had him nearly swallowing his tongue. Dark brown skin shined with sweat, and loose work-out pants threatened to fall off slim hips. Massive fists wrapped in white tape brutally connected with a heavy bag. Bulky muscles shifted beneath smooth, tattooed skin. The man was absolutely physically perfect. Harmon shifted to expose rounded pecs with a spattering of black hair. His stomach wasn’t cut, but he had that deep V that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. He’d never been that close to those perfect indentions before.
He screamed as it sounded like someone was trying to take the door out.
“Liv, knock it the fuck off, he’s sleeping, shit, was sleeping, asshole.” Harmon hurried off mumbling curses.
He shot up from the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face, and then he attempted to smooth his wrinkled clothes. Checked to make sure he hadn’t drooled. Harmon was approaching with a man that made even Harmon look small behind him. The first thing he noticed was the scars that covered almost all the exposed skin on the man’s right side.
“This the package?”
“Yes, he just needs to go back to his car.”
“And why is he here?”
“I might have borrowed him.”
“Borrowed, is that code for retrieval missions, which ends with a life sentence for kidnapping?”
“Possibly.”
The man groaned and scrubbed a broad hand over his face. “What are we going to do with you, Little?”
“I didn’t mean to do it. Lily told me lightning strikes, and I grabbed him.”
The new man loudly cursed and shook his head.
“What have we talked about when it comes to Lily? No advice when you two are high as fuck.”
“We hadn’t had that much to smoke.”
“Whatever, I didn’t know the package was a person. I brought my bike.”
It was all too weird, the situation, people, he wanted to go home and forget this day happened. Somet
hing about that thought made him frown. As weird as Harmon was, the man was awkward and strangely sweet.
“He can have my helmet.”
Harmon ran off and left him with the stranger.
“I’m Solomon.”
“Livingston, everyone calls me Liv.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You going to press charges?”
“What happens if I’m thinking about it?” He wasn’t. Despite the kidnapping and weirdness, Harmon seemed harmless.
“You might not make it back to your vehicle.”
“Liv, knock it off.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Here,” Harmon said and handed him the helmet. “It might be a little big for you, but it should work to get you home. I’m…I’m sorry and if you—”
“It’s fine. We’ll just call it one of those surreal days and forget it ever happened, okay?”
The man deflated and dropped his chin, then turned his face away.
“Come on, my boy is at home waiting for me.”
He didn’t want any more details, so he rushed to catch up with Liv and walked out into the dying late afternoon light. He turned to look over his shoulder, but the doors creaked shut and blocked his view.
“If I were you, forget this day ever fucking happened. Leave Little alone. He ain’t for you, little man.”
He didn’t know why that hurt, but it did, and he followed Liv’s instructions on how to ride behind him. He gave the warehouse one more longing look and held on tight as Liv pulled off in a raining of gravel and dust.
When Would He Learn Appropriate Behavior?
Inappropriate laughter threatened to escape, and he prepared to get fired. First, the unexpected kidnapping of a stranger. He still didn’t know how the hell they were able to get his van on the roof, but they succeeded and he’d spent a fortune for the crane—again. He’d returned to the grocery store several times. Yet he hadn’t spotted the bow tie wearing cutie. Getting with Poe was a lost cause, but that didn’t help his disappointment. He decided on a distraction. The rest of the team didn’t fall for his pranks. Raul and Pure were easy marks.
He’d spent all day attempting to lure the two men to the lower level of Trenton Security where they had the gun range and weapons lockers and cages. He didn’t feel guilty about it either. Raul had focused his attention on Pure’s ass. A quick shove from behind and he had both men locked up.
