Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  He cut Rory off with a kiss that was just a simple press of lips; no need to delve further just yet. “You don’t have to apologize, babe. I understand. The detective is very enticing, in a John Wayne sort of way.” They both laughed. “I love you Rory, so very much, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve never looked at Rand and thought about something more with him. He’s brash, sexy, and confident, as well as infuriating and obstinate. Maybe I should be jealous, but that would be very hypocritical, don’t you think? As much as it pains me, the man has gotten under my skin, Rory. I don’t know what to do with that. I mean, how can I do anything about it and still keep you?”

  “Why does it have to be one or the other, Shan?” Rory stared up at him, waiting for an answer. There was no teasing in his tone, no animosity or disdain. There was, however, a slight tinge of fear in his lover’s eyes. “Shouldn’t we define who we are, what we want, and who we want to be? And obviously the attraction between the three of us is mutual. You’ve said as much, and Rand outright admitted it.”

  Reminding himself to breathe in and out slowly so that he didn’t hyperventilate, Shannon took the time to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. Rory didn’t rush him or pepper him with questions; he lay quietly, stroking Shannon’s leg with his fingers. Just the man’s touch grounded him, and he welcomed the quiet reprieve. Could they? Hell, should they? What if it didn’t work? What if Rory got a taste for Rand and vice versa and they decided to make a go of it without him? Dozens of thoughts and questions ran through his head, one question blinking like a neon sign lighting up the darkness. Why not try? For every negative thought or question, there was an equally positive query. They could. And if the three of them were in agreement, they most definitely should. Anything worth having was worth fighting for, worth the risk. Shannon thought back to the conversation he’d had with Taylor about this very topic, about considering opening his and Rory’s relationship to include Rand as well.

  “I’m scared too, Shan, worried what could happen if this blows up in our faces. But me being brutally honest with you too, I feel a pull when he’s around—like a magnet, I gravitate toward him. I love you too, babe, and I don’t want to lose you, so if you say no it’s no. There is no halfway here, Shan. It’s all or nothing.” Sweat dotting his brow, Rory was starting to show signs of exhaustion.

  Turning, he stretched his long legs out next to Rory’s, curling up beside him, both men sighing like a couple of old contented house cats. “Okay.” Funny how one little word could completely change your life in an instant.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Rand

  Collapsing onto his bed, Rand stared up at the ceiling, praying for the first time in a long time. His heart ached, and it was his own damn fault. Rushing into Shannon’s apartment, seeing Tuan with a knife to his throat scared the living shit out of him. When the man realized he was surrounded, he released Shannon and took a step back. Rand grabbed him, twisting the knife away, and handing it to Connie to bag. Thinking back on that night, Rand could see more clearly now, and if he’d been in his right mind then, Rory might not have gotten shot. He’d been distracted by the small smear of blood on Shannon’s neck and the wrecked kitchen, broken dishes and glass littering the floor, and he took his eyes off the suspect. Only for a second, but it was enough time for Tuan to jerk one hand free and pull a gun.

  “Jesus, you fucking idiot!” Rand berated himself, smacking his head with the palm of his hand a couple of times. Exhausted from worry and lack of sleep, he didn’t bother getting undressed, just toed his shoes off and scooted up the bed till he could reach the pillows. Leaving Shannon alone with Rory had been difficult, but he needed sleep. None of them had slept more than a few hours at a stretch over the past week. Hell, the first night, Rand didn’t sleep at all. The image of Rory’s body jerking back, the man’s eyes wide, a smattering of blood spreading out along the stretch of the white cotton shirt he was wearing—that shit was on a constant replay in Rand’s mind. Of course, the lack of sleep afforded him lots of time to not only consider which circle of hell he’d wind up in when he died…but to finally define his feelings for both men.

  His cell rang, but he ignored it. A few seconds passed, and it rang again. Digging the phone from his pocket, he pressed Talk without even looking at the caller ID. “Yes, Claire,” he groaned.

  “Hey, I’m at the hospital. Shannon said you went home for the night—everything okay?”

  No… “Yes.”

  “Bullshit! I can hear it your tone, big brother. I’m on the way.” She hung up before he could protest. Twenty minutes later, Claire let herself into his apartment with the spare key, a bottle of Fireball in one hand and a bag of tacos in the other.

  Two tacos and several ill-advised shots later, Rand was finally loose enough to talk. His sister sat and listened, and he had to admit it took some of the weight off his shoulders to purge the shit he’d been keeping bottled up inside. “So…you’re in love with both of them?” Claire asked.

  He shook his head. “No, Sis. Not yet. But given the time and the opportunity, I could be.”

  “Then why the fuck are you here crying in your shot glass? You should be at the hospital with them.” She said the words like they were the most obvious choice, and he was an idiot for thinking otherwise.

  Sighing he slid forward, stretching his long legs out and letting his head rest on the back of the chair. “Haven’t you been listening, Sis? First, I made a move on Rory, knowing he belonged to Shannon. Then I fucked up and didn’t do my job, so Rory got shot, twice. And don’t forget the cherry on top of my humble pie: Shannon walking in on me sitting on the side of the hospital bed holding Rory’s hand and apologizing to him for the aforementioned indiscretions. How could I do that to him Claire, to either of them? I know how bad it hurts to be cheated on. Technically we didn’t cheat, but the line is pretty goddamned thin.” He paused briefly, pulling a couple of deep breaths into his aching lungs.

  “Shannon flinches if I move the wrong way when I’m around him, and Rory…well, he’s gonna hate me as soon as he’s awake for more than five minutes and hears I’m the reason he’s in that damn bed to begin with.” God, he was drained. “I’ve gotta go sleep, Sis. I think my body is shutting down.” He stood and stumbled toward his bedroom. Claire said something about a misunderstanding, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything aside from putting one foot in front of the other until he was close enough for the mattress to catch his body as he fell forward, out before his head hit the pillow.

  ***

  Bleary eyed, he crawled out of bed the following morning, stiff as a board. He’d slept hard and long—damn near twelve hours—and needed coffee and a five-mile run. Settling for coffee and a hot shower, Rand was out the door to drive back to the hospital thirty minutes later.

  Claire was there when he arrived, sitting in Connie’s lap, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls. Shannon was pacing the room, and Rory was gone. “Where’s Rory?”

  Shannon turned when he heard Rand, smiled and walked over to him. “Hey, I was starting to think you might not come back.” Long arms wrapped around him, blond hair tickling his nose when Shannon laid his head on his chest.

  “They took him down for X-rays or something.” Claire spoke, and it took him a second to put her response with his question. The lean body pressed up against him made him lose all conscious thought.

  Shannon looked rested and was dressed in clean clothes, his hair combed off his face. He tucked the younger man’s head under his chin, inhaling the scent of lavender and mint he’d come to associate with the perky blond. “Why would you think I’d abandon you, either of you?” he whispered, refusing to release his hold on Shannon, even when he tried to pull away.

  Leaning back, Shannon looked up at him. He was smiling, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that Rand didn’t care for. “I was worried when you weren’t here this morning. And as the hours ticked by, you still didn’t come back. I thought…” Rand fought the urge to grasp
Shannon’s chin when he ducked his head. “We need to talk, all three of us, but I know that this isn’t the time or place. I heard you, Rand, last night. I heard every word you said as well as the words you didn’t say.” Shannon released his hold on him, his hands pressing to Rand’s chest gingerly, not really trying to push him away. “I’m not making any promises or declarations, Rand, but obviously you and I feel something more for each other than just friendship. And from what I learned last night, the infatuation is mutual between you and Rory as well. And you’re right. Life is too short, and I think the three of us need to try and define our emotions instead of being pigheaded fools.”

  “Ha!” Claire shouted.

  “Shuddup!” Rand glared at his sister, growling at Connie, her hand planted firmly on Claire’s ass. “Do you two have to do that here? Show some respect. There are people dying somewhere in this hospital.” Both women fell into fits of laughter and Shannon giggled, gently shoving him away.

  “What’s so funny?” Everyone fell silent, turning to the door. An orderly that looked to be about twelve years old and maybe a hundred pounds was pushing Rory’s wheelchair, the wounded man sagging to one side, favoring his wounded shoulder. His tone was ragged, sounding like he’d been gargling rocks for breakfast. Not wanting to overstep, Rand stayed put when the orderly slid his arms around Rory to try and help him back into the bed. Shannon sniffled, eyes imploring when he looked over.

  “Let me help.” He moved quickly, grabbing the wheelchair and pulling it around, lifting Rory easily with one arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees. Their eyes met as Rand lowered him to the bed, the appreciation evident without words being spoken.

  Shannon filled a small plastic cup with water, holding the straw to Rory’s mouth and he gulped it down. “Con, can you two give us a minute?” Rory’s partner nodded. She stood and took Claire’s hand, and the two of them followed the orderly out and closed the door.

  Rory tried to sit up, to no avail, so Shannon grabbed a pillow. Nodding for Rand to lift Rory, he slid it under Rory’s head, both of them jerking away when the wounded man hissed in pain. “S’okay, just…give me a minute.” A few deep breaths and a cup of water later, some of the color returned to Rory’s face. “I heard you, both of you, last night. I was stuck somewhere between consciousness and sleep, so I couldn’t join your conversation, but I was listening. When did we talk, Rand?” Rory looked up at him; those fucking green eyes that had reeled him in from the start held so much hope.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, smiling and shaking his head. “I needed to tell you that I was sorry for mauling you that night in the hotel, and it was easier to do it while you were unconscious, sorry.” He shrugged, not really sorry at all, not one damn bit.

  “Yeah, right.” Rory quickly responded, no heat to his words. When he reached for Rand’s hand, then Shannon’s, it was surprising. “Shannon and I talked last night, and we’re in agreement that whatever this is, the connection that has drawn the three of us together? It should be explored.”

  Smiling almost shyly, Shannon reached for his hand. They were connected for the first time, the three of them. And as tenuous as it was, it was still a bond, an unspoken understanding. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he fought the urge to grab the ugly hospital gown Rory was wearing and jerk his mouth close for a kiss. The need to taste him warred with the desire to feel Shannon in his arms again, the touches before void of the heat and promise that came with the fondness he felt for the younger man.

  They both stared at him expectantly. Wait, was he supposed to say something? “Okay.” Rory and Shannon visibly relaxed with just one little word. Seriously, did he get swooped up in a tornado last night and dropped off in a fairy-tale land? And who would be the witch? The first name that popped into his head was Rory’s, and he couldn’t help it; he cracked up.

  “What…” Rory looked at him like he’d lost his mind as did Shannon. “What’s so funny?”

  It took him a minute to compose himself, wiping his moist eyes. “Okay, don’t get pissed, but this whole conversation is very surreal. So, I’m asking myself, ‘Who are these people?’ in a very Wizard of Oz sort of way. And I’m thinking, who the hell would the house fall on? Not Connie or Claire but maybe…” It didn’t take long for Shannon to catch on and start laughing hysterically. Brow pinched, lips pursed, Rory glared at him. “Sorry, but you have to admit, it’s the damn truth.” Rand smiled down at him. Rory valiantly tried to fight back a smirk, swatting at Rand with what little strength he had.

  What surprised him the most was how easily the conversation flowed, the connection drawing them together already established. But he had to get the guilt off his chest, the poison seeping into the wound inflicted the night Rory had been shot. “Listen, I need to talk about the shooting, get some things off my chest or I’ll drive myself crazy.” Shannon opened his mouth to speak, edging back when Rand held up a hand to stop him. “Just, please, let me get this out, and then you two can dissect it and come at me.”

  “Come, at you?” The hint of sarcasm in Shannon’s tone wasn’t lost on him.

  Rory patted his hand. “Let him speak. It’s obviously bothering him, Shan.”

  Jesus, I have to get this right. This could be a make-it-or-break-it conversation, Davis! Rand gave himself a mental smackdown.

  “When I walked into your apartment and saw his hands on you, a knife at your throat, Shan, my fucking heart stopped beating for a minute. My sole focus was on getting you away from him at any cost. So when he lowered the knife and stepped away, I thought, ‘Damn, that was easy.’ But if I’d been actually thinking, I would have realized that all I was doing was playing the game Tuan Nguyen put in play when he got on that fucking plane in Washington.” He was pacing now, running trembling fingers over his head. Just the memory of the shooting made him nauseous again. “I wasn’t focused, at least not on Tuan, not like I should have been. I should have patted him down immediately, disarmed him, and cuffed him. Had I done my fucking job, you wouldn’t be in this goddamn hospital bed. It’s my fault, all of it. I was so distracted and, and…” Heart racing, Rand bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

  Shannon was there, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his cheek, lifting him up. “You finished?” Exhausted and spent, Rand simply nodded. “Good.” Shannon took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, squinting at him. “My turn.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Shannon

  “First. If you ever say, ‘Come at me’ again—trust me, I will and you won’t like it.” Flashbacks of sitting in the corner in the locker room in junior high, watching the jocks knuckle-punch each other on the shoulder among other juvenile antics while chanting, “Come at me, bro!” were images Shannon did not want to associate with Rand.

  “Second, what Tuan did is not your fault, so don’t saddle yourself with that shit, okay?”

  Eyes full of sorrow, Rand opened his mouth, probably to argue with him, but Shannon wasn’t having it. Stepping closer, their bodies now connected for the first time, he kissed the detective. Time seemed to slow down as he enjoyed every sensation he was feeling. Rand’s lips were soft but firm; his arms slid around Shannon’s waist, pulling him close enough that he could feel Rand’s heart pounding in his chest. The man smelled amazing—hints of citrus and musk with the slight aroma of frankincense. Hands wrapping around Rand’s shoulders, fingers trailing over warm skin till they were connected at the nape of his neck, Shannon moaned, the sound becoming a soft gasp when Rand slid his tongue into his mouth. Lord but the man tasted amazing, like oranges and mint, his tongue mapping out every inch of Shannon’s mouth.

  “Wow.” Rory sounded like he was out of breath.

  With herculean effort, he managed to pull free from Rand, turning to look at Rory. For a brief moment, Shannon thought Rory might be upset or angry, which would be valid emotions given the circumstances. What he saw in the gorgeous green eyes that had pulled h
im into Rory Landers’s orbit all those months ago was nothing but pure, unadulterated lust. Skin flushed, the raven-haired beauty licked his lips, and Shannon could feel Rand’s body tremble beside him. Taking Rand by the elbow, he led him over to the bed. Lowering the side, he motioned for Rand to sit beside Rory. “I missed your first kiss. This time, I’ve got a front row seat.” Shannon encouraged them with a wave of his hand.

  Again, the kiss was soft and gentle—at first. Thankfully, the top of the hospital bed was already fully lifted, so Rory had something soft to brace himself on, because Rand devoured him. Fingers fisted in Rory’s long, black hair, Rand licked, sucked and bit the man’s lips as they both groaned and gasped. Rory held tight to Rand’s shirt with the hand of his uninjured arm. Cheeks flushed, breathing labored, the machine he was hooked up to was beeping faster with each passing second. The door to the room flew open, and a petite nurse rushed in, skidding to a stop just inside the room, eyes wide. Rory and Rand were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t even notice. “Uhmmmmmm.” She cleared her throat, loudly.

  Glassy-eyed and breathless, Rand sat back, apologizing. “I’ll just come back, then.” She backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Resting his head on the stack of pillows, Rory closed his eyes and took a few deep, even breaths, the monitors slowing to a more sedated rhythm. “Wow is right.” Shannon sighed. “That was…” He paused, trying to find the right word.

  “Intense,” Rand offered.

  Nodding, Rory sat up. “Well, I think we can all agree that the chemistry is definitely not an issue.” Shannon and Rand agreed. There was a song—he couldn’t remember who sang it or the title, but the line “When a tornado meets a volcano” rang very true to what he’d just witnessed.