Their Bounty (Dark Gay Harem Contemporary Romance) (Four Mercenaries Book 1)

by K. A. Merikan

  Could this really become his life? His position within the group remained uncertain, and the strange four-way relationship was still fresh, but Clover knew he fit in with the guys well, and maybe in a year’s time Drake would get over his conspiracy theories and give Clover a chance? He’d never lived on the right side of the law, so their job wasn’t an issue. They hadn’t yet talked about more distant future, but could staying be on the cards?

  Clover’s dreams were interrupted by a curse, and he looked up when Tank slowed his motorcycle. They were in the lead of the little cavalcade and the first to spot two large trees blocking the mountain road.

  “Uh-oh,” Clover muttered once they stopped altogether. The slopes didn’t leave enough space to drive around the blockage. They wouldn’t go through without towing the trunks away.

  Tank slid off the bike and approached the tree, followed by Boar, who drove up second. This road didn’t seem to be used much, but Clover couldn’t remember a storm strong enough to fell trees, passing through the area. The weather had been pristine. Not to mention that it was a strange coincidence that both the trees have fallen in the same spot. He walked up to Tank, breathing in the fresh scent of moss and damp leaves, but the sudden tension in his Daddy’s shoulders made him stop.

  “Tank?” he whispered, but it was Boar, who glanced his way without moving otherwise.

  “Get in the back of the van. Slowly.”

  Clover went from annoyed by the situation to tense within a split second. So much for laying low at the Steel Horde MC’s clubhouse. He nodded, but his legs were lead when he backed away to his designated hideout. All of a sudden, the soft murmur of leaves wasn’t soothing but as sinister as gun cocking in an empty house.

  He stifled a yelp when Drake’s smoke-scented fingers closed on his mouth, but the guy pushed him into the back of the van and closed the doors without a word.

  It suddenly became so still Clover could hear his own heart beating.

  What was happening?

  A bang had him screaming, and he dropped to the yoga mat, too afraid of bullets that could find their way inside through the metal walls of the vehicle. The inside of the van was an oven, and he broke out in sweat, finding it hard to breathe.

  “Tank! We haven’t killed y’all yet out of professional courtesy. Give up the boy, and you can go!” someone yelled outside, and it was a cue for Clover to hyperventilate.

  He couldn’t see a thing. He could’ve, got to his knees and tried looking through the windshield, but he’d seen enough movies featuring ambushes to know that would get him a first class ticket to Hell. In a situation so convenient, the enemy was stationed above, so they could take out Tank’s crew one after another with precise shots. They likely had advantage in numbers too, and if Tank and the guys wanted to keep Clover, they’d have to take a giant risk.

  He was afraid something horrible could happen, and he’d be dragged out of his hiding spot, forced to watch the men who’d become so important to him dead or still bleeding out.

  “He’s ours!” Tank bellowed. “Get your own bounty!”

  “The price is high enough for all of us to quit working for a long time. Let’s just split the prize!” the unknown person yelled.

  Another stranger laughed. “We’ve seen the vid from the clubhouse. Looked like you were having fun, but you can get another boy toy for that kind of cash!”

  Clover’s eyes went wide. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Of course. But there was no room for shame when his life was on the line.

  Tank’s voice was strong and steady still. “We are not letting you steal our bounty.”

  The second man, whose voice Clover had heard so far answered quickly. “Don’t be an idiot. We’ve shared some good times, but those are the rules of the game. You are outnumbered two to one, so be sensible. Maybe we could negotiate for cash. Nobody here needs to get hurt.”

  “You know me, and you’re asking to take my money? We’ll kill every last one of you fuckers!” Tank yelled, and the realization that Tank was talking about him in terms of a reward hit Clover like a bullet from the gun that went off somewhere outside.

  Even as the first shot deafened him, he couldn’t get Tank’s words out of his head. So Tank would be willing to take money for his life despite all they’ve been through together.

  Of course he would.

  Like Jerry had.

  Like Troy cheating on Clover after declaring his undying love.

  How could Clover have remained naive after experiencing so much betrayal in his life? Time and time again, he fell for the same fucking tricks. Maybe because he believed himself smarter than he actually was and overestimated his capacity for seeing through bullshit. One day, this flaw might lead him to his death, but not yet.

  He inched toward the front of the van, breathing in the scent of smoke that always clung to Drake. His head throbbed with heat, ears ringing from gunshots, but he’d be the surviving cockroach even if this scarred him for life.

  Chapter 15 – Drake

  Drake was in his element. After a short exchange with Pyro, who provided cover, Drake had made his way uphill and moved through the forest like a human-sized machete. Fast and sharp, he reached the first of the hidden assailants so silently the man hadn’t known what had hit him when Drake slit his throat. The instant surge of power fueled Drake’s movements and propelled him toward his next target, even though the enemy might’ve already been aware that there was a wolf on the prowl.

  This was where Drake excelled. He wasn’t a master of human interactions, but he sure as hell knew where to cut tendons, and where to hit to cause most damage. He also held one crucial asset most people didn’t.

  He was willing to throw his life on the line every single time.

  If he died… that would be that. Nothing to do about it. No reason to shed tears. He’d lived a good life in those past seven years since meeting Tank, and if that was all he was given, he would leave this world without regret.

  The people he fought always cared too much to make the split second decisions which could leave them in a world of pain but save their life. Drake’s death wouldn’t have been optimal for Tank, but he’d get over it. All the guys would eventually cope with the loss.

  The man he’d earlier spotted a bit farther away was nowhere to be seen now, but the rain of bullets in the ravine below made it impossible to hear anyone moving nearby. Drake’s brain worked in overdrive, and the tiniest movement to his side was the signal he needed.

  The man wore military clothes, with a camo mask as well, but Drake still got him in the throat. The bastard gurgled, sending a spatter of bullets Drake’s way on his dying breath. A sharp pain tore at the side of his arm, but he was fine. Just a flesh wound.

  He stayed low, collecting his dagger from the body that still shook, clinging to life. Once the artery was uncorked, Drake’s adversary died after briefly becoming a fountain of blood.

  Drake lowered his body when an explosion went off nearby, causing the ground to shake. He sucked in the scent of undergrowth and gathered some dirt in his hands as he watched out for any debris that might hit him. Pyro must have used his grenades, but while Drake trusted his companions’ skills, he still shifted to the edge of the hill, searching for familiar silhouettes. The air was rife with screams and bullets, but Tank and Boar were methodically moving toward their weakened opponents, ready to take them down on sight. Several bodies already lay scattered, and if the number they’d been told earlier was correct, there were only three to four people left to eliminate.

  No one messed with them and lived to tell the tale.

  Drake frowned when movement caught his attention on the other side of the scene, and he focused on it like a hawk about to descend on his juicy prey. His blood ran cold when he recognized the pale figure sneaking out of the van where nobody else could see him, but he remained hidden behind a bush, torn between sinking his claws into Clover, and staying to aid his friends. The shootout was almost over, and when he looked toward Tank again, he cau
ght him putting a bullet into a fallen enemy’s head to ensure he was dead. The guys were fine.

  Unaware that he was being watched, Clover dove into the trees, climbing the slope like a fox on the run from a pack of hunting dogs. When he reached the top of the ravine and took off at full speed, away from the battle fought over his sorry ass, Drake made his decision and followed.

  He’d told Tank so many times that the little rat would betray them, and the moment to prove it has finally come. The boy’s sob story meant nothing to Drake, but he didn’t want Clover dead, or raped and murdered, either. But what he wanted even less was for Clover to reveal safe house locations, or run his mouth about Riggs’s death, were he captured by the police or enemies. People who traded in human lives had no conscience, or limits to their cruelty, and might want to go after their crew, even just as a don’t-fuck-with-us.

  His shoes were soft, and made barely any sound when he sped to catch up with the boy. Tracking Clover in the woods was easy enough, since he wore a white T-shirt and pale jeans, and was like a beam of light among all the muted colors. Easy prey. Like a child who didn’t understand it was no longer safe.

  The cool air heated up the moment Drake sucked it in, stalking behind trees, invisible to the boy who didn’t know his way around, beyond city limits. It wouldn’t be long now until the white gazelle needed a break. That was when the coyote would strike.

  He couldn’t even imagine what Clover was thinking. They were in Idaho, far away from the nearest town, and he wasn’t even following the road, but heading deep into the mountains. He could get lost and eaten by a bear. He could starve to death or poison himself with some inedible berries, once hunger struck. And he was moving away from a stream of fresh water which would have kept him going, and given him a sense of direction.

  Clover looked back every now and then, his pale face pink with the effort. The ungrateful little shit wouldn’t be causing them any more trouble than he already had. There would be no forgiveness for lies, which Tank for some reason decided to ignore so far, just because they were spewed by such pretty lips.

  He had friends in New York, then he didn’t.

  He’d been abducted on a trip, then it turned out a shady friend sold him off.

  For all they knew, the whole orphan thing could be yet more bullshit.

  Clover might be a sexpot and the hottest twink Drake had ever met, but he was still not worthy of trust, and in their line of work, that was an unforgivable trait.

  He froze when Clover stopped in a small clearing between tall trees. The boy bent over, resting his hands on his knees, as if this short run completely robbed him of breath. Ridiculous.

  Drake snuck up behind him, feeling guilty over ogling the pert ass in tight jeans even now, but no one needed to know what went on in his head. He’d teach the kid a lesson pronto, and hide no details from the rest of the crew. He briefly thought of the disappointment they’d all face, but sickly branches needed to be cut.

  He kicked the back of Clover’s knee, and when the boy fell over with a yelp, he grabbed the slender wrist and cuffed it. Clover didn't even know what had hit him when Drake pulled back the other hand and closed the other cuff around it.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Clover stilled with his back under Drake’s knee, motionless on the leaf-covered ground.

  He already knew his grand escape was over.

  “I asked you a question.” Drake said, keeping his fingertips where the cold metal met flushed white skin.

  He loved cuffs, even if this twink was now in bondage for the worst reasons. Drake didn’t like being touched by people, but restraints made it much more bearable. He would take his pleasure where he could.

  Instead of answering right away, Clover writhed under him like a dying fish. He screamed and grabbed at Drake’s T-shirt with those pretty pink fingers, so cute in his helplessness that Drake enjoyed pushing him right back down into the grass more than he should have.

  “Get off me! Get off!”

  “No. You’re coming with me, so that all the guys can see what a little rat you are. Just taking off on them when it’s convenient. Not that it was a smart move out here,” Drake said, looking around the forest. Despite Clover’s pathetic fitness level, he’d gotten far enough from the road that no one would hear him shout. And even if they were closer than it seemed, the presence of hills would mute sound efficiently enough.

  “I will not be sold! I am done with this!” Clover thrashed with surprising strength, and Drake leaned back, curious what the boy would do if he believed he’d managed to push him off.

  Clover got to his knees in haste and bolted.

  So maybe it was indulgent, but watching him run with the cuffs on, already out of breath, was teasing the side of Drake’s predator instincts he didn’t usually express.

  Drake let him have those few seconds of advantage, but then jumped into action, chasing his prey as if his life depended on sinking his teeth into that tender meat. His legs were longer. He was healthier, stronger, so taking the boy down again was child’s play. Drake pushed him face-down into the moss and sat on his tight ass, for that short moment allowing himself to fantasize about there being no pants to keep them apart.

  “Sell you? What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, annoyed and aroused when each upward push of Clover’s hips caressed his groin.

  “Tank wants to sell me! He said it himself! I’m done being stupid!” Clover sniffed as if crying could help his cause now. The struggling became less frantic, and soon turned into shudders. “He used me and now he’ll also collect the money for me. Just like Jerry! I trusted him and he-he…” Clover sucked in air in fast, deep gasps, hyperventilating so intensely he couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Drake’s brain came to a halt, battling over the concept of Tank ever selling an innocent person to anyone. Tank’s towering presence often made Drake feel alert, no matter how long they’d been friends, but he’d been the one person to give Drake a hand and pull him out of the hell his life had been before their fateful meeting.

  Revulsion was so intense it left a bitter taste on Drake’s tongue.

  “Are you stupid? It was a fucking diversion.” Drake exploded, personally offended by the very idea that any of them would participate in such dirty trade. They were criminals, but they also had rules.

  Clover strained his neck to look over his shoulder. The whites of his eyes had a pink tint from the crying, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore and just watched Drake from behind the messy waves of hair. It was hard to imagine something so annoying could also be so beautiful—like the prettiest white Persian kitten that also scratched the couch to death.

  “H-how do you know?”

  The question itself was beyond disgusting. “We put traffickers six feet under, not work with them. Out of everyone, you’re the only one who keeps mentioning trades, because you have no skills to help yourself. You’re like a mouse in a house full of cats, and you hope that if you play nicely, a couple of those cats will choose to keep you as their pet.” Drake slid his fingers into the white hair and pushed Clover’s head down. “Well guess what? Once Tank finds out about this little escapade of yours, he’ll finally see you for what you are, and we’ll drop you off at the nearest gas station like we should have weeks ago.”

  Clover didn’t need to know that playing with little white mice was exactly what Drake wanted to do.

  “How am I supposed to know who to trust?” Clover sobbed, not even trying to wiggle free from under Drake anymore. “I’m scared, okay? I thought Jerry was my friend, and he sold me off to Riggs like it was nothing. Someone wants me for my looks, and I have no way to hide. You don’t understand what I’ve been through!”

  The forest air felt sour in Drake’s lungs, and he twisted his hand in Clover’s hair, struggling for breath after getting punched in the gut by thoughtless words.

  “No. It’s you who doesn’t know anything.”

  It had been years, but there were nights when Drake’s
past loomed dangerously close, hiding under the bed and reaching out for him with hands so strong he could do nothing but stay still. He lifted himself up and spun the little bastard around, digging his fingertips into his jaw hard enough to make his point. “You’ve led a life of freedom until now. Maybe not a happy one, but still free. You’ve only been captured for a day, and nobody laid a hand on you. Meanwhile, people, even little children go through that underground meat grinder every single day. They’re never seen again, because there are ways to make them disappear forever, okay?

  “So you were afraid that someone’s gonna trap you? Use you however they wanted? One person? Many people? Well, it didn’t happen. You were plucked into safety without having to even move your little finger,” Drake shouted before letting go of Clover when his piercing blue gaze wouldn’t turn away and met Drake’s.

  “You know nothing. And you’re selfish. You didn’t even hesitate and ran from the people who saved you when you got the chance,” Drake whispered, looking into the trees as he struggled for breath. Some of his memories were vague, almost as if his brain didn’t want to keep them on record, but that made moments like this, when he tried to reach in only to meet a wall, more terrifying.

  And he shouldn’t be terrified, since it was already over. It had ended years ago, yet here he was, furious that no one had saved him. That even when Tank had reached out with a helping hand, he didn’t just sweep Drake off his feet and hand him a cup of cocoa. By the time they’d met, the worst had been behind Drake. But where Tank protected Clover from the world, cushioned him and coddled, for Drake he’d had a gun and lessons in how to save himself.

  And Drake wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, so why was he so fucking angry with the stupid boy who had no idea how lucky he was?