Blown Away (Whispering Winds: 1)

by Havan Fellows

  Unfortunately, no matter how much Rowen's body enjoyed the man he held captive against the pine tree, that smile irked something inside him. He applied more pressure on the blade, but twisted it a bit so the flat end was now pushing into the man, not the sharp point.

  "Either. So why are you here?"

  "I thought that was obvious. I'm following you."

  Honesty.

  "Okay, but the question remains the same."

  "I'm a friend of Finn's."

  Rowen snorted. "That's a gimme. Now, tell me something I don't know."

  The man leaned his head in next to Rowen's and whispered, "Hello, Rowen, my name is Mick, and your choice of introductions is damn sexy."

  Rowen jerked away, not sure if the action was from the intoxicating scent that radiated off Mick, or the words that rushed all his blood south. He couldn't even remember the last time he had an immediate reaction like this to someone.

  His confusion morphed into anger, and there was only one person to focus it on. "Are you insane? I had a blade to your femoral artery. You whisper that into the wrong ear and you'd be bleeding out as we speak."

  "Yet, here I am, no more knife nudging my hard-on. Anyway, I thought you were the insane one, climbing trees to deadly heights without safety nets."

  Rowen sheathed the knife quickly, wondering if the man was attempting humor with him. Of course, if he was, did it matter? He shook off the thoughts and realized he needed to continue on if he'd make it to this mysterious tin roof and back before morning broke.

  "You can't put safety nets in the trees." With that last bit of wisdom tossed at the idiot, Rowen continued his trek into the woods.

  He checked his compass to make sure he stuck to the right course. A couple hundred more feet, and he couldn't ignore the obvious anymore.

  "Now, why are you still following me?" He didn't bother turning around this time.

  Mick's laughter grated on his nerves. "We've got to work on our witty repartee."

  "No, we don't."

  "So, why are you heading out into the middle of the forest at night? Do you have a death wish?"

  Rowen shook his head sadly. "That's the problem with people, they are afraid of the unknown. Most of the wildlife in these forests won't bother you unless you provoke it"—he eyed Mick over his shoulder—"so you'd clearly be dead by now. But the average man would do fine."

  "Good thing I have you to protect me."

  Rowen closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten, wondering if a man screamed in the woods with the only one to hear him the one that caused it…did it really happen?

  ***

  "Come on. You've got to talk to me eventually."

  "No, I don't."

  Mick bore holes into his companion's back, thankful he wasn't eyeing that face still. If Mick thought Rowen was mesmerizing at a distance with a window separating them, that didn't even compare with full on Rowen all up in Mick's face. His hazel eyes sparked green when Mick fucked with him and irritated him—that was fun—but the long hair he saw flowing freely through the window earlier today seemed to be non-existent now, until the enigma of a man turned a certain angle and Mick spotted a braid escaping his thick beanie inside his hoodie. Mick almost lost it right then, wanting to wrap that braid around his cock and feel the soft silkiness of hair glide up and down his sensitive skin.

  Mick shook his thoughts back to the here and now and began to second-guess his wise decision to follow Rowen into the woods—well, wise when he didn't think it through completely. Now…eh not so much. But by the time he realized his error, there was no way he'd make it back to Finn's on his own.

  "Do you even know where we're walking to?"

  The snort Rowen gave didn't appease anything inside of Mick. "Do you?"

  "Well, no, that's why I'm asking you. Unlike some people, I don't just climb down a tree and decide to prance around the woods during the night."

  "Yet, here you are."

  Rowen threw Mick's words back at him with amazing accuracy. Confirming what he already suspected, that despite all the weird habits Rowen might have, there was a sharpened brain to go along with them.

  "Watch your step," his companion of few words warned Mick right before the toe of Mick's boot hooked something on the ground.

  Mick carefully stopped and stepped over what appeared to be a large root from a tree that was hidden on the ground coated white from the latest snowfall. He damn sure hoped that Rowen knew where they were going, because it seemed like they’d passed the same trees at least four times in the last hour, or at least that was what he'd guess if there was any evidence on the ground that they had.

  "And since here I am, we might as well make the most of it and get to know each other. Because I've gotta be honest with you, no matter how much I want to turn back right now, I don't see that as a possibility unless you personally walk me to Finn's."

  "No."

  "No to which one? No to getting to know each other…um…sorry to point this out but we already are; or no to walking me back to Finn's, didn't really expect you to do that. But I must admit that yo—"

  "Listen, Mick."

  Rowen spun around in the snow without losing his balance and invaded Mick's personal space, not that Mick was complaining about that.

  His voice was low but no less threatening. "I'm sorry that you decided to latch on to me for your personal amusement. Unfortunately, I happen to be preoccupied. So either tempt fate a second time and head back that way"—his arm cut through the air and pointed to their left—"or stay with me and keep your mouth shut. You know, so the wild animals don't realize we're here."

  Did Rowen wink at him with that last sentence? It was probably more of a blink, but Mick would take what he could get.

  "I'll tell you what. You let me take you to dinner tomorrow night, and I promise to be quiet the rest of our stroll."

  "Boy, are you barking up the wrong tree."

  Okay, that had him frozen in his spot more than the snow and ice ever would. He hadn't imagined Rowen's interest nudging his leg earlier before he pulled away from Mick.

  "So, what team do you bat for?" Maybe if he forced Rowen to face the question head on.

  The man never stopped his forward movement. "My hand."

  "Your…but…" Mick sputtered over those two words. "You've got to have sex with actual people at some time in your life."

  "Oh yeah, because everyone needs sex in their life? My life needs order and protection. I need to be in complete control of everything around me. I learned a long time ago that if you add another person—a man—to the mix, you lose that control. I'll stick to my hand, thank you."

  "Ah ha! So I wasn't barking up the wrong tree." He leaned in to shoulder bump Rowen, but the man dodged the friendly gesture and it took all Mick's equilibrium and flailing arms not to fall on his ass.

  "Yeah, you were, if you think I'll ever get in a car with you and drive somewhere. That will never happen."

  "Okay, fair enough, what about I cook dinner for you at your cabin?"

  "No one enters my cabin."

  "You could come to Finn's cabin. I could cook for you there."

  Mick slammed into an immovable mountain that, in turn, slapped a hand over his mouth. Mick was tempted to start yelling at the oaf who’d taken them on this wild goose chase into the woods when he heard it.

  At first, it was just mumblings, nothing that would put anyone's neck hair on end—well, anyone who wasn't Rowen—but the fact that the hushed whispers took place during the dark of night in the middle of no man's land… Yeah, Mick was prepared to think this wasn't the norm and maybe he should keep his damn mouth shut.

  Then Rowen wrapped his arms around Mick, sidestepping and swinging them around five feet, he hurried them behind a thick cluster of trees. Mick only had a split second to think of how good it felt before two lugheads appeared and started walking right for them.

  Freaking out a bit, Mick looked toward the ground, knowing that if one of the intruders so much as
glanced down they were had. Amazingly enough, their footprints weren't visible anymore. The ground was disturbed, that was obvious, but staring at it, Mick himself couldn't outline their tracks. He looked over his shoulder at Rowen—damn, was he good.

  Chapter Three

  Rowe kept his hand over the nuisance's mouth while holding his body in close. He wasn't sure either was necessary, but he continued to grasp the man. When the threats walked closer, he took out his knife once more and sized up the situation. If Mick stayed out of his way and with the element of surprise…this could be over before it even began.

  "Mmmm mmmm." It was a low murmuring. Mick attempted to be quiet.

  "Shhh," he breathed in the man's ear.

  Mick ungracefully turned in his arms and barely whispered, "You can't kill them."

  One of the strangers turned to the other one and his voice bubbled over with pure excitement. "This is just the beginning, Chad."

  Rowe bit his lip when he realized he could hear the men's words clearer, meaning they were now in earshot and all verbal communication had to stop. So when it looked like Mick was about to talk again, Rowen slammed his mouth down on the other man's.

  He didn't intend for it to be anything other than a silencing tactic, his mouth on Mick's while his eyes stayed on the threat. Then Mick's mouth softened and the men walked out of his line of sight. Next, two engines revved, and Mick's mouth opened, his tongue poking at Rowen's lips, trying to pry them open.

  He's bad for you.

  Pushing the voice away, Rowen opened to Mick's insistent tongue and sucked it into his mouth. When the rumbling of the engine was swallowed by the distance between them, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to escape into the long lost pleasure of a simple kiss.

  He'll betray you.

  Not even the voice could overpower the sensations Mick sparked in him, the shudder that started at his feet and worked its way up every single nerve ending.

  Why did he think you'd kill them? What kind of man are you?

  Rowen shoved Mick away while trying to steady his erratic breathing. Needing some distance between them, he turned and headed the way the men came from.

  He did a quick walk around the greenhouse to make sure a lookout wasn't stationed somewhere hidden and waiting. He didn't find a lookout but two very distinct snowmobile tracks. Not able to delay any longer, he headed for the door.

  Mick caught up to him as he reached for the handle. It was one of those do-it-yourself deals, he could tell from the snap paneling. Of course, one look at the tin roof proved that this DIY project was a little too much for the guys who put it together, if you considered the shoddy addition of the tin roof—obviously not a part of the original package. Which was almost sad, this one seemed to be a top of the line version, sturdy and roomy.

  "Damn, they planted some serious money into this, I'd bet. How the hell did you know this was out here?"

  "I saw the roof."

  "Yeah, about that, can I just get a what the fuck?" Mick stepped back and looked at the roof.

  Rowen mimicked him, tilting his head and taking in the shitty work of installing the roof to the greenhouse. "I think it was meant to block out the lights. The damn things are a fucking beacon to everyone that this atrocity of a building is here in my woods where it doesn't belong. These men obviously aren't pros."

  Mick nodded. "Okay, that's an understatement. And holy shit, is that?" He stuck his nose to the glass and peered inside the greenhouse.

  "Yes, pot."

  "That's ingenious! Who'd think to come out here in the middle of nowhere chancing snow and blizzards for some cannabis?"

  Rowen shook his head as he opened the door and ushered his awed companion inside. The temperature instantly rose at least a couple dozen degrees. "If it survived being grown in these cold temps in a piss poor excuse for a greenhouse."

  His glasses fogged up from the rush of warm humid air as they entered the building, so he wiped them on the corner of his coat.

  Mick closed the door for him. "It feels good in here, you should have one of these in your backyard. Put a Jacuzzi in it and have your own sauna."

  "No." He made his way to the back of the greenhouse. His knowledge about growing marijuana was limited, but he knew that there had to be electricity going to the heat lamps all around.

  "Well, damn, these don't even have buds on them yet."

  Still shaking his head, Rowe ignored Mick's babblings as he found the generator and flipped open his pocket screwdriver.

  "Um…I don't see anything that needs a screwdriver on that thing." Mick leaned over him and peered at the gas-powered generator.

  A fantasy image of Mick’s chest pressing into Rowe’s back, forcing him on all fours and waiting, flashed through Rowen’s mind causing his breath to hitch.

  Nodding in agreement, afraid to speak after that thought, he twirled the screwdriver in his hand and started stabbing the metal of the generator.

  "Whoa, shit! That's not gonna explode or anything, is it?"

  The lights didn't even flicker before turning dark for good. "Hmm, guess that's a no."

  "You weren't sure before you started cavemanning on the damn thing?" The incredulousness in Mick's voice caused Rowen to smile.

  He stood and reached into his bag for his Mini-Maglite. Outside, they wouldn't need it because it was a clear night with the moon, but in here, under the makeshift covering, it was pitch-dark.

  "Okay, time to head back."

  "Huh? That's it? You come and play caveman and leave? Do they have folk stories about you? Are you the real Bigfoot?"

  Rowen rolled his eyes. "I'm going home, you can stay if you'd like."

  "Are you offering to take me home, Rowen? Because the way you dumped me after that kiss, I thought that maybe you didn't like me."

  "I don't."

  Mick crowded into Rowen’s space, causing every muscle to freeze up to keep him from flinching away.

  "Are you sure, Rowen? Because I think I should call your bluff. What do you think, Rowen? Are you bluffing? Should I go all-in?"

  When most people pronounced his name it just irritated Rowen, it meant attention he wasn't interested in receiving or giving. When this nuisance whispered it on the wind…it seemed to appease something in him.

  But not enough to lose his focus.

  "Why did you tell me not to kill those men?"

  Baffled by either the quick topic change or the direct question, Mick shook his head before focusing his eyes on Rowen again.

  "No reason, just felt you pull out your knife and figured to err is human, to behead someone takes a damn big knife."

  Evasive.

  Rowen stepped away from Mick and walked the long way around to the door. "Are you coming?"

  "Apparently not, unless you want to lend one of those amazing hands of yours over to me?" Mick approached him with a stalkerish smile.

  "Sure." He firmly planted his hand on the small of Mick’s back and pushed him out of the steadily cooling greenhouse. He was happy the man didn't land flat on his face, but a part of him might've hoped…

  "Well, that was awesome." Mick spun around and glared at him.

  "Good, can we go now?"

  "But the pot…in there…" Mick pointed to the structure behind Rowen as if Rowe didn't know what was in it.

  "Yes, and soon it will be worthless. I'll phone in an anonymous tip and it will be shut down for good, this was just for my peace of mind." Because god knows Rowen wouldn't have gotten much sleep if he hadn't investigated the tin roof he'd seen.

  "Don't you want just one plant for yourself? Come on, you're probably all sorts of fun when you're stoned."

  Rowen blinked at Mick. "You want me high? Wow, the almost two-hour trek up here did nothing for your common sense skills."

  "Ehh, okay, no pot for you. What about alcohol? Do you get all wild when you get drunk?"

  Rowen envisioned one of those kid's cartoons with the big bulldog walking along and the tiny pup bouncing next to him t
alking fast and excitedly. He glanced over to Mick. Damn, that little pup never looked this good. Figuring the guy had to get tired sooner or later and take a break from his insistent yammering, Rowen tuned him out and continued home. If the man followed, all the better, if he didn't…

  Hanging his head and shaking it slightly, Rowen looked back at Mick who smiled at him like nothing strange or out of the ordinary had happened today.

  Damn, if he didn't follow, Rowen would come back and get him. There was no doubt in his mind he wouldn’t allow any harm to befall this annoying man.

  He sighed. "No drugs, no alcohol, limited amounts of caffeine, and no fizzy drinks."

  "Fizzy drinks? I could use some caffeine right now, not that these freezing ass temps aren't doing a helluva job keeping me awake."

  "No carbonated beverages, they erode the calcium from your teeth."

  They walked a ways farther until Rowen came across a spot that had a stump and rock that looked like a good sitting area. He chose the higher stump to rest on.

  "Huh? What's happening now?"

  Rowen took his backpack off and unzipped it enough to get his thermos out. "You said you wanted caffeine?"

  "Okay, talk about a late reaction. That was like thirty minutes ago."

  Nodding in agreement, he handed the filled cap over to Mick. "Yes, but we were still too close to the greenhouse to stop for a snack."

  Mick held the cup in his hands like it was the finest form of ambrosia available. "You have snacks also? Oh god, tell me you really do have snacks in there."

  "You have your choice of peanuts, granola bar, beef jerky, and…" Rowen shuffled some items out of his way and tilted the backpack toward him. "Oh yeah, I have a Kit Kat bar also. You don't get that, that's mine."

  Mick smirked as he eyed the candy bar that Rowen pulled out of his backpack. He sipped the hot beverage in his cup, then immediately spit it out to the left. "What the fuck is this?"