Dare to Hope

by Caitlin Ricci

  Samuel glared at the man in disgust. “Actually, I’m Chris’s friend, and you’re spot-on to say your lines are filthy. No, you are the filth.”

  Misha openly stared at him while Pavel shook his head.

  “You’re one of those faggots, aren’t you? What’s my son giving you in exchange for coming down here for him? Misha, I thought you knew better than to bring their kind here. I only tolerate the one, barely, because of his money. This one certainly doesn’t have that going for him. Now, both of you, out of my office. And Misha, don’t come back here without your brother.”

  Between one moment and the next, Samuel lost his temper. He saw the light, a red flash, and when he next looked around, he had Pavel pinned to the wall with his forearm on his Adam’s apple with no idea when he’d moved.

  “Listen, asshole. How your two sons managed to listen to the drivel from your conceited mouth their whole lives and not kill you is a mystery to me. Now you shut up, and I’ll speak.”

  When Pavel struggled to try to dislodge him, Samuel used his forefinger and thumb on a pressure point in the man’s neck. He stopped struggling immediately, and his eyes bulged, his face turning a sickly purple before Samuel let up on the grip of his fingers.

  “You can make this difficult or spare yourself heaps of pain or possible paralysis. Up to you.” Samuel waited for the barely there nod from the bastard before he continued.

  “Your son, Chris, quit today by his choice. If it is up to me, he will never set foot in this building again. Ever. And if you or your useless wife try to threaten him, persuade him, humiliate him, or use any of your slimy methods you employ, I will personally make sure you will never be able to walk again. I know of over a hundred ways to do that, and if they won’t suffice, the Maori tribe I come from are known for their very painful tactics of emasculation. Either way, you will lose.” Samuel glanced at the quiet Misha a few steps to his left. He had no color left in his face, but Samuel would deal with that later.

  “Help me…,” Pavel hissed out, his gaze going to Misha pleadingly.

  But Misha only shook his head. “What Sam just said, every last word of it, is something I’ve been wanting to say to you since I was thirteen. I’ve hated you most of my life, but luckily I had my mom to keep me away from you for the most part. I even had a plan and a gun I wanted to use on you, the first time I saw you spit on a gay man at a pride parade. I was thirteen, and I knew I was gay, and there was nothing I could do about it because I was so damn scared of you.”

  He took a deep breath. “Chris is so much braver, so much stronger, than I ever was. He had the guts to come out to you, and you’ve been calling him a faggot ever since. So no, Dad, I’m not going to stop Samuel. If he kills you right here, then at least Chris will be permanently free of you. Though for Chris, I’d rather he didn’t. Visiting Samuel in jail would scare him, and I don’t want to see him worry or hurt ever again. What is your problem, anyway? Chris only ever wanted to make you and his mom happy. That’s it. He’s like a puppy, only wanting to please everyone else. I’ve never once seen him do a single selfish thing. And you have the nerve to call him useless? And worthless? Like you’re some kind of a saint? Thank God I didn’t grow up with you over my head all the time. Maybe then I’d be just as screwed up as Chris.”

  Samuel removed his arm from Pavel’s throat but kept him in place by planting his hand over his sternum, hard.

  “Chris is more of a man than you will ever be. You use your status, money, and power to hurt and destroy other people. Instead of using all you have for good, you’ve become rotten from the inside out and lost both your children. What do you have to be so proud of? If Chris would have me, some day in the future, I would happily give him my name so your name could be wiped out in his lineage. Same-sex marriages are legal in my country, so there’s nothing you can do about it.” Samuel spat the last words out in disgust.

  Pavel coughed hoarsely. “You two sicken me. I no longer have sons, and neither of you are welcome near me again. You’ve been erased from my life. Don’t ever come to me asking for anything ever again.” He fixed his gaze on Samuel. “And as for you, I hope you wither and die from the filth that he is. You want him, he’s yours. I certainly will make no more claim to him if this is who he calls his friends. A violent savage and a man who wanted to kill his own father. You both have ten seconds to get out of my office before I start yelling for the police. Then we’ll see how long you last in prison after the judge hears about how you came in and attacked me, unprovoked, in my own office.”

  The old man didn’t see it coming, but Samuel had his testicles in a death grip in two seconds flat. Pavel coughed and gasped in pain.

  “Before you have time to yell for the cops, these two raisins will be stuffed down your throat and you’ll make no sound, because you’ll choke to death on your own balls. And I’ll tie your tubes into tiny bows for them to find. Just for the record, they won’t claim you, and I and Chris’s other savage friends from down south have our own fucking money, dickhead.”

  Samuel pushed away from the man but not before giving his sac an extra twist and then letting go. Pavel crumpled to the carpet and folded his legs like a girl as he mewled in pain.

  “You remember your own words. I’m a violent, savage man, so stay away from Chris, me, and my friends. I have contacts who would smile as they take you out and bury you in a desert where no one will ever find your remains.” Samuel shook with suppressed violent anger. “Misha, I’m done here, because if I look at his sorry ass any longer, I will break his neck. I’ll see you outside.” He opened the sandblasted glass door and let himself out into the hallway.

  Misha was silent until they were out of the building. “So, how long have you been wanting to do that?” Misha asked him with a shaky smile.

  Samuel’s adrenaline-infused blood still raced through his veins, and he concentrated on his breathing to calm him down. “Months.” He welcomed the cold blast of air as they stepped out of the building onto the pavement. So far he heard no sirens in the vicinity, so he guessed Pavel took his advice and decided against calling the cops on them.

  Misha tucked Chris’s things safely into the backseat, then got in the car, and Samuel was quick to follow him. “I’m glad you said what needed to be said. What I couldn’t. Family is…. Growing up with him, even though I didn’t spend a lot of time with him and my mom divorced him early, the one thing that stuck with me that he would always say is how important family is. But it’s not in the way that I think other people consider family to be. For Pavel, it seemed like family was all there was, like if you weren’t part of it, then there was nothing else for you out there. Whenever I’ve thought about going against him, I always get sick to my stomach and remember his words. I guess it took someone he had no power over to really put him in his place.”

  “My family has always been Kaden’s and Trent’s family, because my own birth parents loved partying and drugs more than their son,” Samuel said gruffly, his emotions in turmoil because he wanted to see Chris right then.

  Misha nodded but said nothing to what Samuel had revealed as he wound through the busy, snow-covered streets with ease. “Don’t tell Chris what you did. I don’t want him being worried about Pavel and wondering if he’s okay. Pavel doesn’t deserve that, and Chris doesn’t need it. He worries about everyone else too damn much as it is.”

  “What are we stopping for here?” Samuel asked as Misha pulled into a drive-through coffee shop.

  Misha looked over at him. “I need something sweet after all that. What would you like? My treat. I’m getting Chris something too.”

  “A cappuccino would be great, thanks.” He hadn’t had a cup since Bangkok, and he needed it to warm him up. Pavel’s harshness had left him cold to his bones.

  Misha quickly placed the order, adding a chai and a hot chocolate with peppermint. “The hot chocolate is for Chris. You ever want to get on his good side, that’s how you do it,” he said as he pushed the car forward.

&n
bsp; As they sat in the car together, Misha drummed his fingers on the top of the steering wheel, as if he was as anxious to get back to Chris as Samuel was. “Did you mean what you said about wanting to marry him? Because you know he doesn’t believe in marriage, right? He was, is, a divorce attorney. So if that’s really something you’re set on, you’ll likely be in for an uphill battle.”

  Samuel thought about it for a minute. “Maybe he would be opposed initially, but I believe once he’s far removed from his controlling parents and the superficial marriages he witnesses through his job, he may start believing in it again.”

  Misha paid for the drinks and handed Samuel his coffee before getting back on the road. “I hope so. I mean it. As far as a brother-in-law goes, you’d be a good choice for him. I’d like to see you two work out. Assuming he’s actually willing to speak to you, but I guess we’ll see in a minute or two. This is his apartment building.” Misha found a parking space in front then backed the car in.

  Samuel didn’t know if Chris would see him either, so he stayed quiet as he followed Misha, his heart starting to race the closer they got to Chris.

  Chapter Sixteen

  CHRIS HEARD the front door open and smiled, knowing Misha was the only one, aside from Bran, who had a key to his apartment. And Bran wouldn’t be coming to see him, not after their fight.

  “There’s pizza and Thai in the fridge. I couldn’t decide, so I got both delivered. Help yourself. I’ll be out in a second.” As soon as he figured out if the swimming briefs he’d found buried at the bottom of a drawer covered enough of his ass to wear them to the hot tub. With a shrug he figured they were good enough. He had trunks, but he felt like being slightly sexier than that. He’d have to order something in between soon, though, because his trunks were completely unsexy, and these were barely on the good side of obscene. Oh well, it wasn’t like anyone would really be looking when he was under the water.

  “Hey,” he said, coming out of his bedroom, his bare feet slapping on the polished hardwood floor that flowed throughout his apartment. “Come hang out in the hot tub with me, will you?” Chris asked him, then stopped cold as he came around the corner and saw Misha and Samuel standing in his kitchen. “Hi.” He shot a look to Misha. He had to have been behind this somehow. Chris was sure of it.

  “Change into something else. Right now,” Misha demanded.

  Okay, so maybe the briefs showed off a little more than he’d thought. But they looked damn good on him, and Misha didn’t get to tell him how to dress. Especially not when he’d apparently brought Samuel back with him. It was gratifying to feel Samuel’s gaze on him as he came forward, though, and even angry at him, Chris couldn’t deny the attraction he felt to him.

  “Did you get the picture from my office?” he asked Misha, ignoring his demand.

  Misha nodded and pushed a box toward him. Chris picked through the things his brother had grabbed for him and, once he’d found the picture of Bran and Kaden together, took it out and walked it over to its new place on his mantel.

  “Chris, you’re practically naked. Go put on some clothes,” Misha tried again. “And I’m not even going to tell you about your tattoo, which apparently you’re trying to show off. I should have been blessed with an ugly brother. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about you so damn much.”

  But he wasn’t having it. “I’m going to the hot tub in a bit. Now, Samuel, why are you in my kitchen? And, side note, is that peppermint I smell?” Misha pushed a drink across the counter toward him, and Chris was careful not to get too close to Samuel as he moved to take it from Misha. As soon as he had it in his hands, he jumped back just as quickly.

  Samuel stared at Chris when he shied away. What did the man expect—that he’d run back into his arms after what they had all said about him in Thames? Not likely. Misha’s phone rang, and he walked away to deal with it, taking his drink with him. Chris was left alone with Samuel, and he was at a loss for what to say.

  “In case it wasn’t clear, I was avoiding your texts,” Chris said, hating that he felt like retreating from Samuel when he was in his own home. He should not feel that cornered, that trapped somewhere that had always been safe to him. It still was, only Samuel was now standing in his kitchen and part of Chris never wanted him to leave. The other wanted to throw him out on his ass.

  Samuel swallowed some of his coffee before placing it on the bench. He stepped toward Chris, but when Chris retreated, he stopped. “Chris, I had hoped we’d have some time alone to talk, but I need to get this out. I’m sorry for what happened. Not necessarily what I said, because many of those things were true, but because I didn’t find a better way or opportunity to say them. We came at you all at once and pushed you away instead of supporting you. Bran is a mess. He tried to call you, minutes after you left, and Trent crapped on our heads for what we did to you. He’s left messages upon messages, but you never responded, and it’s driving him out of his mind with worry.”

  “I thought he’d just want to yell at me again,” Chris quietly admitted. Frowning, he took a good look at Samuel. “Here, sit down on the couch. You look ready to fall over. I’ll call him back, and if he’s as worried as you say and not being an ass, I’ll talk to him instead of just hanging up on him. Fair enough?”

  “That’s all I’m asking. Because Kaden told me he’s not even sleeping and eating properly. He feels horrible for threatening you like he did, because that’s all it was. Empty threats. Your friendship is far more important than this spat.”

  “With how hot Kaden is, I’m not surprised Bran isn’t getting a full night’s sleep. And I’m sure he’s getting plenty of liquid protein,” he joked, just as he would have with Bran. And instead of cheering him up, it only made him hurt. “I’m pissed at you, but I do understand what you were trying to do. I don’t like how you did it, but I get what you were thinking. Sit. I’ll call him.” He nodded as Samuel took a seat on his couch, looking ridiculously good on it, and went to where he’d left his phone on the counter. When he glanced back at Samuel, Chris found him watching him too, and he leaned over a little more to tease him as he dialed.

  “Hey. I’m glad you called. I missed you,” Bran said before the first ring had even finished.

  Chris tried not to think about how good it felt to be talking to him again. “First of all, I don’t forgive you. And I’m so fucking pissed at you right now. But I wanted to say hi, I love you, and I’ll see you in New Zealand in a bit. I need to do a favor for Misha.”

  For a long time, Bran didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  Chris closed his eyes and tried not to scream at Bran, but also not to cry on the phone with him either. Both of those could wait until he was back there. “You did, though. I need to go. I’ll see you later. Bye.” He hung up before Bran could say anything else and left his phone on the counter as he came back to sit on the couch near Samuel. “Happy now?” he asked Samuel, a little bitterly.

  “It wasn’t to make me happy. It was necessary for you two to know you’re okay. Knowing you have Bran means so much to you. You can have a go at me all you like, because I deserve it. Anything else you want to say?”

  Samuel sat back, and for the first time, Chris noticed the lines of exhaustion all over his face.

  There was plenty to say, but having Samuel that close to him, and for some reason not being on his lap, was more of an issue than how much he wanted to yell at Samuel for his stupidity back in New Zealand.

  “I’ll yell at you later. Promise. How long are you staying? I’d like you to stay here while you’re in Manhattan. You can sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch. You look like you need a nap, and you’re welcome to go take one.” He shrugged, done saying what he’d wanted to as he pulled one of his knees up to his chest. Smiling, he saw Samuel watch that movement and let his gaze roam over him, and Chris knew he had no intention of changing out of the briefs anytime soon.

  It was much more fun to know that Samuel wanted him, even though Chris had no in
tention of going back to the place they were at before they all ganged up on him. He needed time and space to figure out how he felt about what had happened once his anger went away. Right now it was still a burning, gaping hole in his gut that festered and bled each time he thought about Bran.

  He wasn’t as angry at Samuel, but he wasn’t ready to just say it was all okay and they could move on and try to be together again either. He’d been hurt, and he felt betrayed. More than that, though, it was hard for him to admit that he’d been wrong, which he was starting to understand. His father hadn’t been a good man, and Chris shouldn’t have blindly followed him along. He was ashamed of his own behavior and felt humiliated over the fact that everyone else had been able to see his father for who he was first.

  Chris had become so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized Samuel had drifted off to sleep. He looked strong and powerful even while resting, and Chris didn’t have the heart or the nerve to wake him as he got up from the couch as quietly as he could manage and went in search of Misha.

  He found his brother in the bedroom, which wasn’t strange since it was only a one-bedroom apartment and there was nowhere else to take a private call. “Hey,” Chris said, keeping his voice soft as he came into the bedroom. “Samuel fell asleep on the couch. Everything okay?” He wanted to ask Misha why he’d somehow orchestrated Samuel coming to Manhattan and what in the hell his point in doing so had been, but those questions died with the worry he could clearly see cutting into Misha’s face.

  Misha slowly shook his head, and they sat together on the edge of Chris’s bed. “I need to leave again, which I knew, but it seems we’re doing something pretty heavy this time around. I can’t give you details, so please don’t ask, but it’s important work.”

  “I’m sure it is. You wouldn’t put yourself in danger for anything less.” Chris knew his brother, and Misha wasn’t some thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie with no sense of self-preservation. What he was, though, was a man who did the right thing when it needed to be done, and Chris was okay with that. Sometimes a situation could be worked out with words, sometimes not. He worried about Misha, but he wasn’t about to wrap himself around one of Misha’s legs and beg him not to go. “Shoot the bad guys before they shoot you. I mean it. Don’t let the last thing you ever give to Trent be your dog tag. That’s too fucked up for words.”