by Avril Ashton
Took them.
Much like Seraphina had in Van’s final days in her company.
“Doesn’t matter how tough you are,” he whispered. “You get nailed into a fucking coffin and buried in someone’s backyard, left alone for days, and you break. You scream until you taste the blood from your raw throat. You beg until your voice gives out, and you claw until your fingers can no longer work. Even then you keep going, you don’t give up. You never—” The slurring got worse, and his fingers twitched to get at the pills in the hidden pocket of his jeans. If he could just get to them, toss them down, he’d be okay. He’d be steady. He’d have a few hours of nothing. Nothing was good. For him, with him, nothing was perfect. “You never give up.” Holding Israel’s gaze, he spoke the words he hadn’t bothered to give anyone else. “I gave up.”
“I’m sorry.” Israel’s deep voice rumbled in the space. “I’m sorry for what she did to you.”
Van stared at him. “Want to know what our father’s response was when I was finally hauled from that hellhole?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I wasn’t tough enough. He taught me better than that, so maybe I wasn’t cut out for the job.” He dropped back onto the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers. “He’d known who she was, and he’d known why she’d done what she did to me, and not once did he share.”
Israel shrugged. “Even before I knew he was my father, I’d always known he was a vile human being.”
Vile.
“I mean it,” Israel said. “I’m sorry for what you went through.”
I’m sorry. No one had said to him. Not ever. The overwhelming need to crawl into a closet, curl up into himself and weep took over, and he looked away.
“What did you want to forget?”
“Huh?” Van brought his attention back to Israel.
“You said you took the Seraphina job because you wanted to forget.” Israel motioned with his chin. “What did you want to forget?”
They were sharing, weren’t they? Doing that bonding shit? Except now, Van had to put the brakes on and move forward cautiously. Because brother or not, Israel Storm was still a stranger, a Jamaican. How would he react when he learned Van was married to a man? That he slept with men?
“Job before that one was…complicated.”
Israel lifted an eyebrow. “You do this a lot?” he asked. “Get drunk and high and shit?”
“Yes.” No bother denying it. “I just came from Coney Island where I was face to face with my husband who I hadn’t seen in seven years. He was a job. I was supposed to con him, use him, and discard him. Instead I fell for him, married him, and built a life and a family with him.” He didn’t miss Israel’s surprised blink. “And when he found out—when he found out, he ran from me, hid from me.” Although that never did work, because Van had known, he’d always known where Levi and Izek were. “He hates me. I love him. He wants me gone, and I just plain…want him. I also found out today he’d gone the past seven years not knowing if my name was really my name.” He looked away. “Because that’s how much I fucked him over, so the drunk and high thing will be happening on the regular.”
Israel watched him with a bemused expression, likely wondering what the fuck, huh?
When the silence got to be oppressive, Van said, “Yes. I fuck men. I married a man. I have a child with a man.” He shrugged. “That’s who I am.” He held Israel’s gaze, daring him to do something. Truth was, Van couldn’t do anything as hectic as swat a fly, but fuck, he wasn’t about to apologize for who he was.
He’d tried that with his father as a teenager. Didn’t take.
Israel’s mouth curved, and laughter flashed in his eyes. “Yo, Reg,” he called out to his friend. “Check me for a second?”
The friend returned, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare, cell phone at his ear. “Yeah, Pop. We’ll see you tomorrow. Aight, later.” He ended the call and shoved the phone into his back pocket as he glanced from Van to Israel. “Waddup?”
Van braced.
“This is Reggie Turner,” Israel addressed Van. “He’s my best friend and my partner in crime.”
“Los P,” Van blurted out. “You were with Castillo and them.” He remembered the face now.
Reggie nodded. “Yup.”
Van grunted. Couldn’t get away from those Los P fuckers.
“Reggie and I are also together,” Israel said calmly. “Yes, in that way. In every way.”
Van blinked. What? He lurched upright. “You’re gay?” Oh, this was too good. He imagined his father’s face.
“I’m attracted to both men and women.” Israel shrugged. “But I’m in a relationship with this man. I’m committed to this man.”
Well, fuck. “Our father went above and beyond to break up Levi and me.” Van barked a laugh. “His head will fucking explode when he finds out about you.”
“Now, there’s something to look forward to,” Reggie muttered. He turned to walk away, but Israel grabbed his wrist, halted his retreat.
“Stay.”
Van saw it then, when Israel gazed up at Reggie from the floor. Reggie stared down at him, and they were frozen like that for a second, hands connected, eyes, too. In tune with each other in a way that sent jealousy pulsing hot in Van’s chest. They used to be that couple, Levi and him. Speaking with glances and soft touches.
They used to be that.
“Yes, Reggie. Stay, and you can tell me all about Castillo fucking my husband.”
Reggie chuckled as he sat next to Israel on the floor. Side by side. Shoulders brushing. “Pablo’s not fucking Levi. They haven’t seen each other in years.”
Van snorted. “Uh huh. Sure.”
“Levi’s alive and well, isn’t he?” Reggie asked with a brow lifted. “All unharmed and shit?” When Van didn’t respond, Reggie nodded. “That’s your proof right there. Because if Pablo was getting up in Levi, your man would be dead. Shane would handle him.”
Van dared him to try. “Castillo’s a cold son of a bitch.” Cruel, too. “I put nothing past him.”
“Not that cold, if you’re still breathing,” Reggie pointed out. “You didn’t break cover to help Shane when York stabbed him and left him for dead on that meat hook.”
Reggie shook his head as he brought up Van’s undercover work that had him crossing paths with Juan Pablo Castillo. Van had been following Castillo from New York to Philly on the orders of gun dealer Jeffrey York when he’d witnessed Levi and Castillo together.
That was how he’d known his husband was alive and well.
Later when another agent inside York’s gang had been beaten and stabbed, Castillo had come in guns blazing to save him, shooting Van in the process. He’d expected to die as he stared up at Castillo from the floor. The last thing he’d anticipated was the flesh wound. He hadn’t known Shane Ruskin—undercover as Dev—was DEA. But even if he had known, there was no way Van could afford to break his own cover, so he’d done little to help the man when York had strung him up on a meat hook in his basement.
“I was there and I know firsthand how wrecked Pablo was. York is dead, but you’re still breathing, so…” Reggie smirked. “Not that cold.”
“That Dutch guy says your identity’s been compromised,” Israel spoke up. “You need something?”
Van cocked his head. “You offering your help?”
“I’m offering whatever you need.” Israel’s gaze didn’t waver. “I got you.”
He hadn’t come here for this. Shit, he’d had no expectations, except to meet the man Dutch claimed was his brother. His mind had rebelled at that, but he might have a brother. For real. A big brother at that, since Israel was five years older than Van’s thirty-five.
“Thanks. The threat’s been handled.” At least it would be, once he had that face to face with his father. Likely Levi was safe, but they couldn’t take any chances in the meantime. “But I appreciate it.” He struggled to his feet and staggered, almost falling to the floor on his face.
“Hey.
Woah.” Reggie jumped up then Israel was there, too. They held him steady, a hand on each shoulder.
“You good?” Israel asked.
Van chuckled. “Far from it.” The double vision was back, and sound reached his ears slow and distorted.
“Fuck.” Israel grabbed his face. “What did you take?”
“Bottle of Jack.” Van shrugged. The figures of the men next to him warped, stretching, wobbling. He blinked rapidly. “Few pills.” Usually they’d knock him out, but for whatever reason he was still aware. Not alert, but aware. Best he could do right now.
“Shit.” Reggie swore. “You trying to kill yourself?”
Van closed his eyes and swayed to the left when his knees buckled. “I can’t die,” he whispered. “I know. Tried twice.” He was unconscious before his body hit the floor.
* * * *
Israel Storm watched over the unconscious man on his couch with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Donovan Cintron had passed out in his arms.
His brother, the Fed.
Israel had wanted this meeting, but not like this. Never like this.
Reggie touched him, a steady and strong hand in the middle of his back. Holding him up. Israel spun away, walking through the kitchen and out into the backyard. The door banged shut behind as he stood there, in the middle of the space and stared up at the dark sky. The cold and dry winter air hit him hard and fast, rocking him.
Arms wrapped around him from behind. Reggie kissed his neck.
“He’s fucked up, Reg. Like Fucked. Up.”
“I know.”
“Ah mi bredda dat.” His brother. His family. And Israel’s mother was responsible for it all. She’d broken the guy inside that house, the one on Israel’s couch. She’d shredded him. One look into his eyesand Israel knew Donovan Cintron was a fucking shell of whatever he used to be. “She fucking destroyed him. My mother.” The words shook him, and Reggie’s hold got tighter. How was Israel supposed to build anything with Van with something like between them?
You look like her.
Every time his brother looked at Israel, he’d see the women who buried him alive. How were they supposed to be brothers like this?
“You’re blaming yourself.” Reggie pulled away and turned Israel so they could face each other. “Is.” Reggie clasped his face with both hands. “This isn’t on you. This isn’t your fault. Tell me you know this.” His eyes pleaded with Israel. “Say you know this.”
“Knowing it doesn’t make the guilt go away.” Didn’t Reggie understand? “How do I build on something like this, huh? How can I claim him as a sibling after what she did to him?”
Reggie’s gaze sharpened. “You want him, yeah? You want to claim him?”
Seraphina Cook wanted Israel. Or Colin, the name she’d given him at birth. She wanted him to be her son, wanted to build a relationship. But Israel didn’t trust her, and after staring into his brother’s eyes, he didn’t see how he ever could.
“She wants her son,” he whispered.
“And you want your brother.”
Reggie was his family. He claimed Reggie, loved Reggie, would die for Reggie. Their relationship took precedence over everything and everyone. Israel had been sure he’d want nothing else. He’d been sure meeting with Donovan Cintron would do nothing to change his mind.
“I want my brother.” He knew about fucked up parents and breaking, giving up. About blood and tears and hurting deeper than your bones. Now he knew that the drugged out man unconscious on his couch needed him, as much as Israel needed him.
“There’s your choice.” Reggie kissed him softly at the corner of his mouth. “It’s the right choice. The one I wanted you to make.”
Israel hauled Reggie close and buried his face in his lover’s neck. “Thank you.” He lifted his head and touched Reggie’s cheek. “I mean it. For everything.”
Reggie winked. “Always.”
Chapter Six
The phone rang in Levi’s lap, startling his eyes open. Not that he’d been sleeping. He was curled up on the couch downstairs, trying to block the sight of Donovan from his mind. Of course, it didn’t work. Because Donovan’s image was permanently etched behind Levi’s eyes, and the intense pain in his husband’s gaze?
Fucked him up.
The phone’s ringtone, extra loud in the quiet space jerked him upright, and he answered the blocked number with a grimace. “Hey.”
“How are you?”
He snorted. “Fucked, is what I am.”
“What is the matter?” The rough voice, torn and damaged, immediately went on alert. “Do you need me?”
If Levi said yes, his caller would come. No questions asked, despite the danger it would undoubtedly bring. He took comfort in that as he shook his head. “No. You’ve done enough.” The protection he gave that Levi could’ve sworn he didn’t need. “I-He’s here. Donovan. My husband is here.”
“Ah.” He understood, Levi’s caller. “Do you want him gone?”
“No!” Fuck, he knew gone for the man in his ear didn’t mean moved to another location. “I just—I can’t…” He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d slept at an awkward angle and now his neck was protesting. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Even though he hurt you?” The honest confusion in that tone brought a small smile to Levi’s face.
“Yes, even though he hurt me.”
“Our meeting, it is canceled, yes?”
They had plans to meet up soon, but with Donovan suddenly at his door, there was no way that could happen now. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It is all right.” His caller paused. “How is he, your son?”
“Still hating me for the abrupt move.” Levi closed his eyes. “I want this done,” he said softly. “I want us to be safe, so we can have a normal life. In one place.”
“With your husband?”
Levi’s eyes flew open. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You love him still.”
“Love without trust, that can’t work.”
“Sí.” The caller hesitated. “I must go. I will be gone for a while,” he said. “Something has come up. It needs my full attention.”
“Will you be safe?” Levi asked.
“No.” The rough chuckle in his ear held no mirth. “It is better that way, safety is an illusion for someone like me.”
Levi could just bet. And he knew better than to ask questions, but he did anyway. “Where will you be?”
“A man and I have some things to work out.”
Since it didn’t appear he’d be getting more than that, Levi heaved a sigh. “Just…be careful. Okay?”
“If there is anything you need, call the number I gave you. Leave a message. I will always check it.”
“All right.” But his caller was already gone, a low click severing their weekly phone calls. He put the phone down and took a deep breath.
A full day since he’d last seen Donovan. Levi had so many questions, but he still hadn’t recovered from yesterday. He still had to pinch himself to be sure he hadn’t dreamt Donovan appearing like a ghost to haunt his every thought. He hadn’t heard from him since then, but Levi knew the man he’d married, so he knew there was no way Donovan would disappear back into the shadows. He’d made his intentions pretty clear, he wanted his family back.
He wanted Levi back.
Levi wanted a full night’s sleep, and the threat over his head to go away. Thinking about Donovan wasn’t helping any of that. He also needed to hear his son’s voice.
He instructed his phone to dial Izek then sat back on the couch in the dark room, waiting as the phone rang.
“Dad.”
The tight knot in the middle of Levi’s chest eased a fraction. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Dunno, you called me.” Izek’s sullen tone hadn’t changed from the last time they’d spoken.
“I wanted to hear your voice.” He tilted his head and gazed up at the ceiling. “I miss you.”
“You’re safer over there, Izek. Please trust me on this. Okay? Please.”
“Safe from what? You won’t even tell me that.”
“You don’t—”
“I’m not a kid, Dad. I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”
Oh my God. “Don’t remind me.”
“Dad.” Izek’s exasperation twisted Levi’s lips into a smile.
“Is it really that bad over there?” he asked. “I mean, you’re on the beach, and you don’t have your old man over your shoulder, cramping your style.”
“I mean… It’s okay.” The anger and suspicion dropped from Izek’s voice reluctantly. “It’s gorgeous here.”
“Think of it as a vacation,” Levi told him quickly. “And you don’t get to share it with your dad, either.”
Izek got quiet.
“Izek?”
“You can tell me if something is wrong, Dad. I’m not a kid anymore. You can tell me stuff, you know.”
“I know that, but no matter how old you get I’ll still be your dad, and my job is to protect you. That is what I’m doing, I promise.”
“Whatever,” Izek grumbled.
“I love you. Enjoy your vacation.”
“You’ll be okay?”
No. “Yes.”
“Who will protect you while you’re protecting me?”
“Izek. That’s for me to worry about, okay? Not you. Never you.”
“Yeah, well. It goes both ways, you know. You worry about me, and I worry about you.”
“Izek?” A girl’s voice, soft with a lyrical accent, filtered through the phone. “Come watch me.” The demand was tempered with something that hinted too close to adoration.