Thirds: Inked 2

by SE Jakes

  Aleks had heard a similar sentiment from Vann, but Vann had both enlisted—and left—for a very specific purpose. Why a man with Brogan's money and connections would? Aleks needed to find out.

  "Why'd you sign up in the first place? Legacy?" Aleks asked him.

  Brogan hadn't been sure that Aleks wouldn't bolt post-shower, or even post-dinner, but he seemed content to pad around the apartment. Prowling, really…and asking questions. Far more than he'd asked during their date. "No. I'm the first in my family to serve. They weren't very happy when I enlisted."

  He could still clearly remember the disapproval he'd faced when he'd told his aunt and uncle he was seriously considering the Army instead of college. There was, of course, the pressure from his uncle and Harry to go to the 'right' college, the 'right' frat, to make the connections that would help him dive right into the cutthroat big business world post-graduation. But he'd wanted out—wanted to see the world but not in the way Harry was planning on. No, Brogan wanted to get his hands dirty. Wanted to pull his weight. Wanted to forget he was a rich kid from a rich family and prove himself, rebuild from the ground up.

  The military had been helpful in that regard, and more than a little humbling.

  "Special Forces just seems…unnecessary," his uncle had said in his early attempts to be diplomatic. "Military service is honorable. But the company needs you back, not wallowing around playing soldier."

  Brogan had wanted to bite out, "I'm not playing," but he'd done what he'd learned in the military: smiled and nodded…and then did what he wanted to at the first opportunity that it wouldn't harm himself or anyone else.

  And then he'd gone into Rangers training.

  "That must've been tough, not having their approval." Aleks looked at him with an expression Brogan couldn't quite place, but he swore there was some approval of his own in there.

  "I came to the realization that I couldn't live the life someone else wanted for me, family business or not. I had to figure out who I was, what I wanted. And trust me, college and the family business would've been the easy road. Ranger training was no walk in the park." None of it had been, but he wouldn't trade a second of it.

  "I've got a good friend who served. Said it was exactly what he'd needed." Aleks's eyes were somewhere far away for a brief second. "So why did you get out?"

  Brogan took a breath and decided to be completely honest. "Because Harry was mismanaging the charities my parents worked so hard to put into place. I couldn't be all over the world, unable to gain access to the company. I learned what I needed to in the military. I gave to it and it gave me exactly what I needed. I took those lessons and I apply them daily to the world around me and my business," Brogan said.

  "Would've been easier to stay in, yes?" Aleks said finally.

  "Much," Brogan admitted hollowly. "But I've always been a realist at heart."

  Brogan believed in what he'd said about the military—he'd spoken the words from a place of fierce pride and independence, and Aleks could see the struggle he'd faced.

  It was interesting, and important to Aleks to know that Brogan had evidence that his cousin wasn't an honorable man. Still, it was a far cry from believing Harry mismanaged charitable funds to being told that he owned and operated a fighting ring that kidnapped and killed. "So you came back and fixed the charities. But you're doing real estate too."

  "Right. I manage the charities and oversee the businesses with Harry, although he's more day to day on that front along with my uncle. It leaves me time for real estate. I fell into it with an impulse buy and realized I enjoyed it."

  "Obviously you're good at it."

  Brogan nodded. "I've got a knack—and I like the thrill of the deal."

  "You like control," Aleks muttered and Brogan laughed.

  "I can't argue with you. But yes, there's something about owning a place, knowing it's yours, that you can't beat. Because then you have control over it—your own home." Brogan paused. "You're renting, right?"

  Aleks rolled his eyes. "Right."

  "You should buy your place. Buy a place."

  "Thanks, Dad, but—"

  Brogan was on him, pushing his back into the couch cushions and lying half on him. "Funny—it seemed like you were looking for a daddy."

  Brogan said it wryly but Aleks couldn't argue that he'd hit the damned nail on the head. He liked Brogan's strength. It soothed him. He could relax into the sex, knowing he wasn't going to accidentally break Brogan.

  But Aleks was getting too comfortable with Brogan.

  You don't have to tell him you killed Harry. He doesn't ever have to know.

  Right. Keeping that big of a secret from someone you lo—

  Fuck. He'd just freaked himself the fuck out. On several levels.

  Chapter Seven

  Weeks passed. Aleks fell into a semi-regular routine of seeing Brogan a couple of times a week—usually after telling himself that he was going to end it before it got any further.

  But it kept moving, like a goddamned shark.

  Now, Brogan was on a business trip for a week, so Aleks had time to collect his thoughts undistracted. He would use it wisely.

  He’d had met a lot of characters along the way to becoming a sought-after tattoo artist. Although he had to stay under the radar and give up some more public opportunities, for obvious reasons, it also gave him access to some of the more "creative" types.

  And when he met these various creative types, be they computer thieves, pickpockets, mafia drones and the like, Aleks made sure he learned from them. If nothing else, he made sure to trade favors so he could call on one of them if needed.

  Right now, he'd have to rely on what he'd learned about hacking. Calling someone in to check out Harry's bank account transfers would mean there was someone else Aleks would have to watch out for.

  First, he bounced the IP address all across the globe. Impossible to trace, even with Harry's massive resources.

  He connected with Harry's cell phone and computer, plus GPS. Somewhere, he'd find a list of names of boys who would soon find family members or loved ones kidnapped.

  He also found what he'd been hoping to—a trail created to make it look as though Brogan was hiding something in a shell company. It was the only property linked to anything suspicious, and Aleks wondered if Harry was covering his tracks and making it look as though Brogan was investing in the illegal fighting ring?

  It made sense. If Brogan caught on to Harry's illegal fighting ring activities, Harry would blackmail him into not going to the police. Brogan would be indicting both of them.

  "Dammit." Aleks sat back, his head ready to explode. He was late to work, so he closed down the computer and walked there to try to clear his head.

  It only made things worse. He needed someone on the inside for this…and it couldn't be him. Couldn't be Vann. Who the fuck did he know who was crazy enough to go undercover and work for a psycho…

  Con called, "Morning, sunshine," when Aleks walked into Inked.

  "Right. A psycho for a psycho," Aleks muttered.

  Con frowned. "You're looking crazy. Which means you're up to something no good. And I want in."

  "I could use your help," Aleks admitted, thankful they were the only two in the shop at the moment.

  Con pointed at him. "I told Quinn you were dangerous."

  Aleks didn't bother disputing that truth. Con was equally as dangerous, maybe on a whole other level, even. "I'd never ask. But it's not for profit."

  Con nodded. "Cancel your morning. When Becca gets here, let's head to the diner to talk. I never know what the hell Quinn wires to try to keep me out of trouble."

  Half an hour later, Con's eyes were murderous as Aleks laid out the story. It was the first time he'd ever told it, and he could feel Con's anger. He was surprised everyone within fifty feet wasn't running from the palpable rage.

  "Tell me what you need me to do and how to pull it off," Con finally said through gritted teeth.

  "If something happened to you
—"

  "I can't live with myself knowing this shit. You can't either."

  "Quinn?"

  "I'll tell him. Afterward," Con added. "You wouldn't have come to me if you didn't think I could do it."

  Aleks stared at him. "A friend of mine will want to run a check on you. Will he find anything?"

  "Just my impeccable service record." Con sat back. "Look, I'm running black ops. Quinn knows a little bit. I'm just doing enough to stay in practice so I don't go goddamned nuts. But I've been buried by the best of them. I can get whatever cover you need me to."

  Relief coursed though Aleks. "I was supposed to do this alone but—"

  Con leaned forward. "You have friends, Aleks. All you needed to do was ask."

  Vann had told him the same thing. "Thanks."

  "What about Brogan?”

  “What about him?”

  Con rolled his eyes. “Aleks, come on. If he’s not involved, fuck, you’ve got to tell him what’s happening with his cousin. The Brogan that Quinn and I know is a damned good guy. I’m not saying that appearances can’t be deceiving, but at some point, if things continue with him the way they’ve been, you’re going to have to tell him about Harry. About you. I’m not seeing a way around that.”

  Neither does Vann. Aleks laughed harshly. "Yeah, I'll fill him in on all of this over dinner when he comes back from his trip. Maybe we'll catch a movie afterward. Christ, I really fucked up."

  "You’re falling for him. That fucks everyone up," Con reasoned quietly, saying out loud what Aleks had been refusing to admit to himself for the past month.

  And even though Aleks wanted to tell Con to go screw himself, that he didn't know what he was talking about, that Aleks wouldn't fall in love that easily, never mind with someone from Harry's family, he couldn't. Instead, he managed, "Vann did his job."

  "Yes, and you'll do yours. You couldn't control the circumstances." Con glanced around. "You don't know that you haven't been traced the whole time."

  Aleks couldn't even ask why him and not Vann. He knew why—he was the rich one, the one with the old-school Russian mob ties, and even though his money was safe, that didn't mean he was.

  "After Vann went on his spree, it kicked everyone into high alert," Con said. "Now, we just have to beat Harry at his own game."

  "I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

  Con snorted. "Dragged? Let's not get crazy."

  "Stop thinking about how you think you fucked up. Because that's not true. When it was the right time for Vann’s move, he made it. Your chess pieces are still on the board," Con told him fiercely.

  He looked at Con and yes, the guy knew what he was talking about. Harry might've upped the ante, but Aleks? He was built to win.

  Chapter Eight

  Aleks spent the next several days working and researching. Brogan was still in the UK for several more days, so Aleks had no distractions, no excuses.

  He hated that he found himself counting down the days until Brogan returned, that he looked forward to the man's texts the way he did.

  He'd looked up the accident that had killed Brogan's parents and noted with interest that at first the investigation focused on foul play. There was still some doubt as to what truly happened, but it appeared the Montgomery-Johnstones had begged for privacy to mourn. Brogan had been too young to demand further investigation.

  Aleks pressed on nightly, doing some private and protected searches on Brogan's family, the business and his real estate ventures. The latter were public information, and a few keystrokes listed the properties he'd owned.

  He'd done the same thing for Harry, even going so far as to cross-reference gyms in the area with Harry's holdings in shell companies. Harry owned two gyms well outside the city—one on the border of the next state, and neither were connected to his name at all.

  He'd been so busy looking out for Brogan and checking up on the shell companies Harry appeared to have set up in his name that he missed the most obvious of listings. And that night, the same night Brogan was due home, that listing caught Aleks's eye. He pushed his chair away from the desk, not wanting to see what he'd seen, not wanting to deal with what was on the screen.

  But he forced himself back to his seat and his eyes on the screen. The property listing sounded familiar. Even so, Aleks hesitated before he mapped the address…and used the street view option.

  He stared at the sign on the building. Iron Eagle Boxing. A boxing gym. And this wasn't a rental property. When he cross-referenced the name of the gym, the owner was Brogan Montgomery-Johnstone.

  Brogan owned a fucking boxing gym, just like the kinds guys were recruited from for illegal underground fighting.

  Brogan's gym. Not Harry's.

  Fuck. There was no way. Had Brogan been playing him this whole time?

  Had Aleks been allowing himself to wear blinders?

  After two days of ignoring Brogan's calls—because he knew he wouldn't be able to let go of the anger despite the fact that Aleks had found zero evidence connecting Brogan and his gym to the fights—there was a knock on his apartment door.

  Dammit.

  Aleks thought about not letting him in. But now was the time for serious recon. If Brogan was playing him? Aleks would be broken. But he'd come out of it alive.

  It was more than he could say for Brogan.

  Aleks looked pissed. It wasn't exactly the greeting Brogan had expected after not seeing him for a week, but then again, nothing good could come from Aleks ignoring his calls. He'd seen Aleks and his many moods over the past weeks—the guy was as mercurial as anything. It was one of the many reasons Brogan was attracted to him.

  Brogan decided a wide berth was necessary. He knew how to relax Aleks but he needed to get a read on exactly what was going on inside his head. "Did you just get off work?"

  Aleks glanced over Brogan's shoulder and then directly at Brogan. "Shitty day all around."

  Brogan leaned against the doorjamb since he still hadn't been invited inside. "Hungry?"

  "Not especially."

  "Do I need to get you naked?"

  "I need to work out."

  Brogan smiled. "I've got just the place."

  Aleks stared at him. "Didn't you just get off a plane?"

  "I slept. Plus it'll take me a few days to catch up from jet lag. Come on." He motioned with his head and Aleks nodded and walked away from the door to grab his keys and wallet and phone.

  Welcome back, Brogan. How was your trip?

  He sighed inwardly. What were you expecting, for Aleks to say how much he missed you?

  Well hell, anything would be nicer than the death glare he'd been on the receiving end of.

  Aleks got into Brogan's SUV and they drove across town in silence, save for the radio. He had a feeling Brogan was going to take him to X, so he'd been surprised when he'd noted that Brogan was taking him to his gym.

  What were the odds? Was Brogan somehow monitoring any searches on his gym and managed to trace it back to Aleks?

  When they pulled up to the gym, Brogan pointed. "We're going in there."

  "It's closed."

  "Unless you've got keys. Come on. This is a good place to work off some steam. After the board of directors meetings, I could use it." Brogan got out and Aleks followed him. "I was planning on coming here before I came to you, but I'm glad it worked out this way."

  Aleks couldn't add "me too" so he watched Brogan opening the locks. "You work out here?"

  "As often as I can." Brogan opened the door and held it open for Aleks to go in first. "It's my place."

  Aleks walked inside slowly, his entire body tense as fuck as he waited for the trap. "Funny, I took you more for the 'big buildings with your name on it' type."

  When Brogan didn't say anything, Aleks turned.

  "No, you didn't. So let's find out what the hell crawled in your ass so I can take it out and get in there instead." Brogan shut the door, locked it and flipped the lights on.

  Aleks started at the empty gym, unwi
lling to be relieved. Not yet. "Why a gym?"

  Brogan shrugged. "Lot of vets in the area with anger management and PTSD issues. Figured a reduced fee and a place to blow off steam in a place that didn't look like a therapist's office was a plus."

  Aleks nodded. "That's cool."

  "I don't get here as much as I'd like." Brogan pointed. "I've got extra shorts and shirts in the back. Brand-new stuff—let’s go change."

  Again, Aleks tensed but Brogan led the way…into a clean changing area stocked with towels and tape and gauze. He opened a few cabinets and pulled out clothes for both of them. They changed quickly, or at least Aleks did, wanting to avoid looking at Brogan naked and losing his resolve.

  So far, it appeared that Brogan's gym was on the up and up, despite the trail that said otherwise. Which meant that Harry might be setting Brogan up.

  And that pissed Aleks off. He took his frustrations out on the man in front of him, sparring, punching, ducking and weaving…but anger wasn't the best mood to fight in. He made mistakes—stupid ones that got him clipped more often than he'd like.

  On top of that, Brogan was good. A military man had to fight for his life. Granted, in a different way than Aleks had, but a fight for life was a fight for life. It added an edge to everything a man did, and that was certainly the case for both Brogan and himself. They were well matched.

  They didn't let each other off the hook easily. Their punches hurt each other. And neither man held back.

  And when one of Brogan's punches sent him reeling, Aleks retaliated by ripping his gloves off and pushing toward Brogan, who caught him by the biceps. They were both already breathing hard, slick with sweat.

  Aleks went to pull back but Brogan used an effective move—the military bastard—that took Aleks down and put him flat on his back on the mat.

  "Good thing you like this position, because you find yourself in it often enough with me," Brogan told him.

  "You fall for it every time," Aleks pointed out and Brogan laughed, then leaned in and bit Aleks's shoulder. "Yeah. Harder."