by Avril Ashton
And their father was feeling it.
Hard.
“Just like I know you only claim Van as your son for the promo op, and even then they don’t know his name, do they? Otherwise they’d know who he truly is, they’d know about the husband and the kid, and how would that look to the conservatives and Special Interest groups with the long money, huh?”
“Somebody should let them know, don’t you think?” Van rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Let them know who you are?”
“Try it.” Mark tore his attention from Israel to refocus on Van. “Try it, and I’ll make sure to follow through on the promises I made to that man,” he spat.
Van had a sneaking suspicion that that man was Levi.
“And I’ll make sure you finally pay for taking my daughter from me,” Mark continued.
Everything in Van stopped. His father’s words iced him, but he cocked his head anyway even though that felt mechanical. “I took your daughter from you?” The words were falling, he felt his mouth moving, his tongue forming the words, but fuck if he could hear them over the roaring in his ears. “I took your daughter from you.” He lurched over the table, grabbing his father by the front of his wine-streaked shirt. “I took your daughter from you, you son of a bitch?”
The guards rushed him, yelling things he chose to ignore because, no. He wasn’t done. Just like that he was fucking lit with the anger and the pain all over again. And hate. Genuine, scary hate for this man who’d fathered him.
“You used us a bait, you fucker. Bait. You led that crazy bitch right to her. Your mistress. You led her right to Mel.” Somebody yanked him off the table and he fell backward, crashing over a chair and staggering before righting himself.
“You should have done your job, agent.” Mark brushed at his shirt, trying to fix it. “You were given a job, but you were too weak to follow through.”
“My job.” Van laughed. “You wanted your mistress dead and you used your son as bait. I had no idea who she was, but she knew me the instant I entered her organization. And she used me.” Fuck. Fuck. He was trembling, bathed in cold sweat as his father forced him back there. Back inside that house, inside that box with no air. No light. No life. “She hurt me to hurt you, only she had no way of knowing that you gave zero fucks about me. Or Mel.”
“Like you, your sister was too soft.” Mark made a disgusted sound. “I seriously doubt you’ve got any of my blood in you. You’re all Jacinta, soft and weak.” His gaze flicked to Israel who stood there, his face devoid of expression.
“You got her killed.” Van’s voice shook. “You got her killed and you still refuse to accept responsibility.”
“Because it’s your damn fault,” Mark yelled, arms flailing. “Your job was to kill Seraphina. Why couldn’t you just. Kill. Her?”
From the corner of his eyes, Van noticed Israel’s small flinch at the sound of his mother’s name.
“I failed.” That knowledge would never leave him, especially knowing what came after he was rescued from that box buried in Seraphina’s backyard. “I failed,” he whispered. “And when she couldn’t get me, or you, Seraphina went for Mel instead.”
Mel who had no idea what Van or their father did. Mel, with her penchant for bringing home stray cats and tossing money at beggars on the street. She had their mother’s pixie face and generosity, plus a genuine talent for making Van feel better.
“She terrorized her. She hurt her, your child. Your little girl. And you did nothing.” His heart broke all over again. “You blamed Mel for giving up.”
Israel came to him then, grabbed him by the shoulder. “Donovan.”
Van shook off his touch, holding their father’s gaze. “Mel’s death is on your head. And the next time you threaten me, I’m gonna make sure you live just long enough to regret it.” He walked away, wiping his face before he stepped out into the main dining area. At least the place was empty, that was a plus.
Pain reverberated with each step he took to his car.
Mel.
He’d never let her go. She didn’t deserve it, what their father and Seraphina did to her. She didn’t deserve it. Innocent. She was innocent. Trusting. He wanted to remember her like that, not the way he’d found when he’d rushed into her dorm room.
The rope around her neck. Body swinging from the light fixture. The bloodied words all over her walls.
Grief slammed into him steps from his car and he stumbled, bumped into a soft body.
He looked up.
Into Seraphina Cook’s eyes.
The scream left his throat before his knees hit the ground.
Chapter Fourteen
Careful what you wish for. The words were a chant in Israel’s head as he stared at the man who’d fathered him. Mark Dulles was tall, as tall as Israel’s six-feet-two frame. The gray looked good on him, made him appear distinguished. It was a toss-up between Mark and Seraphina as to who Israel got his skin coloring from. Both of his parents were of the darker shade of brown.
Careful what you wish for.
Donovan left the private room with wet cheeks, grief in every line of his body. Grief and pain. Not all of it could be placed at the foot of the man opposite Israel though.
Nah. His mother easily owned half.
“Well?” Mark motioned with one hand. “You may go.”
“Oh nah. We’re gonna get some things straight first.” Israel got real close to the other man. “Don’t threaten Donovan again. That goes for his family twice over. Start prepping your speech to drop out of the presidential race.”
Mark’s eyes flashed. They weren’t unfamiliar, those eyes. The reality of it cut him deep, but Israel swallowed the pain of that wound.
“It will be my personal mission to make sure you get what’s coming your way. To make sure you feel it, too.”
Mark shrugged. “You’re a glorified street side pharmacist.” His father smirked. “And I will always be…untouchable.”
Israel shot a hand out, fisting Mark’s shirt in the same spot Van had grabbed him earlier. “That right?” He grinned. “Or is it that nobody knew the sweet spot to bring you to your knees?” He winked. “I’ve got that magic touch, and like I said, you’re gonna feel it.” He pushed Mark away and released him, throwing both hands in the air when guns cocked behind him. “Donovan is off limits,” he said as he backed out the room, hands raised.
He didn’t take a breath until he stepped outside and the cold air hit his face. What a fucking mess. He needed to find Donovan, talk to him. Pulling his phone out, he walked to his car in the parking lot. A raw, hoarse sound jerked his head up.
He stopped in his tracks.
“You killed her! You killed her!”
Israel took off at a run, toward the voice that could only belong to Donovan. Except that voice was fucking ravaged, seared with horrific pain. He found his brother on the ground, curled into a ball.
Israel’s mother bent over him.
“No.” He must have yelled, because his throat was immediately on fire. He reached Donovan, and his mother looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Colin.”
“Don’t touch him.” He yanked her by the wrist, tugged her away. “Don’t touch him.” He dropped to his knees next to Donovan. “Van.” He grabbed the younger man by the shoulder. “Hey, it’s Israel.” Harsh tremors vibrated under his touch.
Donovan lifted his head, but his eyes were wild with terror, face pale as he shook. “She’s here.” His voice was thread, soft. Almost like a child whispering. “She’s here.” He jerked, tried to scramble away from Israel. “She killed Mel, and she’s here.”
“What did you do?” Israel stared up at Seraphina accusingly. “What did you do to him?”
She stood off to the side, like some dark angel half hidden by shadow. “I just said hello.”
Like Israel believed that for a fucking second. “Goddamn it, Seraphina.”
“I didn’t do anything to your brother,” she said calmly.
“Maybe not now,
but you’ve fucking destroyed him, haven’t you?” He turned back to Van who was fighting him, panting, face bathed in sweat that had dampened the dark blue shirt with the white dots he’d buttoned up to his neck. He fought Israel’s hold, inhumane sounds tearing from his throat as he sank deeper into wherever his mind had taken him.
“I can’t see,” Donovan moaned into Israel’s shoulder. “There’s no light. There’s no light. Mel?” He tightened his hold on Israel’s shoulder. “Mel, there’s no light. Mel, help me.”
“Van, it’s me.” Israel sat flat on the cold ground, his brother in his lap. “It’s Israel, you’re okay.”
“Ssh. She’s coming, Mel.” He started sobbing, low, heart-wrenching sobs. “Please. Please.”
His begging hit Israel in the chest, and he gathered Van close. He couldn’t imagine how they looked, one grown man cuddling another grown man in his lap like a baby. He didn’t care.
“I will protect you,” he whispered into Donovan’s ear. “You don’t have to be scared. She can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Colin—”
“Go the fuck away.” Israel didn’t even look at her, because Donovan’s head had snapped up, his eyes and mouth were open and he was clawing at his throat, body heaving as he gasped and flailed.
“Mel?” Van screamed. “Mel, don’t leave me. Please. Please. Stay for me.” His tears soaked Israel’s chest. “Mel.” Agony broke Van’s voice as he begged his sister not to die. “Stay for me, Mel.”
Israel picked his phone where he’d placed it on the ground and dialed Reggie. His vision blurred and he blinked a few times to clear it.
“Yeah.”
“Reg.” He didn’t bother hiding the emotion in his voice. “I lied.”
“What?”
“I didn’t go to meet X,” Israel confessed softly.
“Okay.” Reggie gave him the silence to explain.
“I came to see him instead, my father.”
Reggie stayed silent.
“Reg.”
“Okay.” But there were questions in that one word. Questions Israel would have to deal with later.
“I’m sorry, but I need you.”
“Where are you?”
Knowing someone meant they didn’t get to surprise you anymore, but not Reggie. He still surprised Israel. He gave his lover the address to where he was.
“Gimme fifteen.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank me later.” Reggie hung up, and Israel went back to comforting his brother. When his lover showed up seventeen minutes later, they hadn’t moved, but Van was out.
Israel glanced up when Reggie approached him, an apology on the tip of his tongue.
Reggie waved away his words. “Not now.”
Together they lifted Van and brought him to Reggie’s SUV, where they stretched him out in the back seat.
“Take him to our place,” Israel told Reggie. “I’m gonna leave my truck here and follow in his car.”
Reggie nodded and soon he was pulling out of the driveway, Israel following close behind in Van’s car. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed another number.
“What’s up?” Dima Zhirkhov asked in lieu of a greeting.
“I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
In a few words Israel told Dima what he needed, and his cousin’s husband declared it done before hanging up without a goodbye.
Forty minutes later Israel was at the house he shared with Reggie in Queens, staring down at his brother as he lay sprawled on the bed in the guest bedroom. Would he be okay?
He needed to be okay.
Israel needed his brother to be okay.
He felt Reggie’s presence, felt the questions his lover wasn’t going to ask. “They’re monsters, Reg. My mother. My father.” He swallowed, eyes burning as he watched the agony play across the sleeping Donovan’s face. “And I’m theirs. I’m their monster.”
* * * *
“Are you sure you’re okay with what’s happening?” Levi sat on the edge of Izek’s bed as his son stretched out with his back against the pillows, head bent as he texted his girlfriend. “It’s okay for you to not be, you know.”
“Dad, I’m good.” He didn’t look at Levi as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and grinned at whatever he read on the phone. “You and D-Two, I mean you guys are meant to be together.” He waved a hand. “Or something.”
Levi frowned. “What’s Dee-Two?” He grabbed Izek’s leg nearest him. “Hey, look at me for a second. Kylie can wait.”
Lifting his head, Izek sighed as he put the phone down next to him. “D-Two,” he stressed. “You know. D for Dad. Dad One.” He pointed a finger at Levi. “And Van’s D-Two.”
A grin split Levi’s face and he just stared at the kid.
“What?” Izek glanced around. “Quit staring already.”
But Levi couldn’t, because he adored that kid. When he stared at Izek, he saw himself, and he saw Gia. Izek was as tall as Levi, same slim build and dark brown hair that he let grow out past his nape, but he had Gia’s eyes, a clear liquid brown. His still-smooth face was a mash of Levi and Gia’s. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”
“Ugh.” Izek threw himself back onto the pillows dramatically. “Come on.”
“I’m just saying.” He smiled. “And your mother would be too.”
A soft and vulnerable expression crossed Izek’s face when he sat up. “Yeah?”
Had he thought otherwise? Levi rushed to reassure him. “Oh, yeah. She loved you so much.”
Izek swallowed. “Sometimes I dream about her. Or maybe it’s just me remembering. Dunno.” He shrugged and glanced away.”
Levi nodded. “She was always smiling, and doing that thing you do, biting on your bottom lip. You have so much of her mannerisms,” he said softly. “Whenever I find myself missing her I just look at you.”
“You loved her, right?”
“I did, yep.” Gia was his first girlfriend. First kiss, first sexual experience. “We had you, and we loved each other. Then she met somebody, and I met somebody.”
“Van?”
“Yeah, and you know all about the three of us.” He hadn’t wanted to hide who he was from his son, so while he didn’t go too deep into details, he did make time as Izek started showing interest in the opposite sex to tell him about his father’s own sexuality. About the three of them loving each other, Levi, Van and Gia.
“You’re not sad anymore,” Izek said quietly.
“What?”
“You were always so sad, and now you’re not.” Izek leaned forward and touched Levi just under his left eye. “Your eyes. That’s what I noticed first when you opened the door when I came back. Your eyes are happy.”
“I was sad because of what happened with Van. He hurt me. And also because I no longer had him.” Levi admitted, “That hurt me more.”
Izek nodded solemnly. “But he’s back, and you’re happy. That’s why I’m okay with what’s happening, Dad. Because you’re happy.”
“Thank you.” Levi got up from the bed before he started tearing up and making his son even more uncomfortable. “You can go back to texting Kylie.” He stopped midstride. “It better not be sexting.”
“Dad!”
He exited the bedroom with a chuckle, heart and steps lighter as he went back downstairs. They’d eaten their share of the pizza and left back a few slices for Van. Levi glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d gone to meet up with his father over an hour already. For some reason, Van meeting with his father didn’t sit right with Levi. Mark Dulles was a son of a bitch. And from everything Van told him, his relationship with his father was way past acrimonious.
As he put away the dishes in the kitchen, a knock came on the front door.
Levi froze.
The knock came again, so he put down the plate he held, and walked out to the door, taking out his phone. He dialed Van, but his phone went directly to voicemail.
Shit.
“Who
is it?” he called out.
“Levi? It’s Dima Zhirkhov. A friend sent me.”
Candy store guy? Gaze narrowed at the door, Levi spoke. “What friend?”
On the other side of the door, Dima muttered something that sounded like an expletive in Russian. “Dude, it’s bad enough I’ve been turned into errand boy. Just open the door before I shoot it down.”
Somebody else spoke, so Dima wasn’t alone.
Then Dima said, “Israel sent me. Israel Storm. Your man is his brother?”
Levi opened the door. Woah. Tall, muscled, tattooed and pierced speared him with an intense gaze and shoved a phone at him in greeting.
“Talk,” he barked.
Levi bristled, but put the cell phone to his ear anyway. “Hello?”
“Levi?”
“Yes.” He frowned at the deep voice with the Jamaican accent.
“This is Israel. Van needs you.”
Why the fuck didn’t they lead with that? “Where is he?”
“At my place in Queens. You can trust Dima and his men to bring you and Izek.”
“What’s wrong with Van?” Dread unfurled, cold and slimy, in Levi’s gut.
“I’ll explain when you get here.” Israel hung up, so Levi handed the phone back to Dima then tensed.
Dima had two men with him, and Levi hadn’t bothered to pay them any attention before now. One he gave just a cursory glance, but the other one. Oh, he knew that fucker.
“You!”
The man gave him a small smile.
Dima glanced from Levi to the dark-haired man. “You two know each other?”
“He had his hands down my husband’s pants.” Levi glared at the man.
“Ah.” Dima didn’t seem the least bit surprised. “Anton does that sometimes.”
“Husband, huh?” Anton grinned. He was good looking, but the fact that he’d kissed and fondled Van kinda canceled out his gorgeousness. “Maybe next time you two can stick around, play with me and my woman.”
Under different circumstances, like seven years earlier, Levi would be all over the images that flashed in his head of Van and him naked with Anton and his curvy wife. “Raincheck.” He moved to the bottom of the stairs and yelled for Izek, before focusing on Dima. “Take me to Van.”