by Zoey Marcel
After Diego left the bathroom, Greyson shivered with shock, cold, and confusion. He toweled off and then froze when he entered the bedroom and saw Diego lying on his bed on his side. Greyson felt a tightening in his belly when he saw the heated look in his best friend’s eyes that said this time he wouldn’t back down. Tonight he would sleep in Greyson’s bed with him.
The authoritative desire in Diego’s dark eyes said Greyson didn’t have a choice. Hot blood filled his penis when Diego drew back the covers and quietly ordered, “Get in bed with me.”
Something soft and responsive in Greyson’s chest said he didn’t have a choice because he’d already made it long ago. He got into bed with Diego and molded himself against the manly heat of the other man’s skin. They made out with slow, tender kisses in the dark after Diego turned the lamp off. Greyson nestled against his lover’s body as Diego rocked him gently and crooned to him in Spanish.
The pair drifted off to sleep together.
Greyson awoke from a restful slumber in the middle of the night and looked at his phone, curious as to the time. He noticed a text from a few minutes prior and opened it. His heartbeat nearly ceased and he felt the life drain out of him when he read it.
It’s me, bitch. Quit whatever you’re doing and come alone.
I’ll tell you where. I’d tell you to come unarmed, but we both
know you won’t. That’s fine. Let’s finish this. Bring anyone
and someone loses their life tonight. Probably someone you
love. I’ll be waiting for you, whore.
Terror, anger, and despair overwhelmed him, bringing back to mind a painful memory. One he hadn’t had a choice in making. He clutched the phone in a tight fist, trembling and fuming. Oh, they would finish this. By god, they would.
Chapter Nine
Greyson had to drive for well over an hour. His vile nemesis couldn’t have met him in McKenna Downs or at least stayed within the same county. No. The prick wanted to meet in Rapid City in the dead of night. He drove for miles across counties until the Great Plains faded into a memory behind him and the Black Hills welcomed him with dark, foreboding arms.
Calling the police would have saved him the trouble, but prison was too good for his enemy. The man needed to die.
Greyson parked and walked to the rendezvous the dick had indicated in a text message. He found the criminal standing around waiting for him in a secluded alley and without a weapon drawn. How convenient. Greyson pulled his gun out and closed in on the man. He’d have to get the other man to draw his weapon. He might want the monster dead, but he didn’t want to become one himself by shooting an unarmed man.
“Danny Finch?”
The asshole turned to face him. His face was a dead ringer to the man he hunted. It was him.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
Greyson cocked the hammer on his gun.
Danny threw up his hands in surrender. “Shit! What the hell are you doing with that thing?”
“You know damned well who I am.”
“I’m not sure I do. Are you Greyson?”
His patience was wearing thin. “Yes, it’s me, you son of bitch! You know what you did.”
The stupid bastard looked confused. “I didn’t do anything. What the hell, man? I don’t even know why he wanted me to wait here for you.”
“Cut the bullshit and look me in the eye.”
Danny did, looking afraid—something Greyson wouldn’t have expected coming from a man who’d been expecting him to come armed.
“Go for your gun.”
“What gun? I’m not armed.”
“Don’t play games with me, you worthless shit. You wanted to finish this. Now let’s finish it.”
A familiar voice spoke from behind him, sending a violent charge of fear tearing through Greyson. “You made it. About time.”
Greyson saw that the man approaching him was armed and an exact replica of Danny Finch save for the facial hair on this twin of his. “Who the hell are you?”
The stranger with the haunting face smiled. “That is the question.”
Greyson kept the gun pointed at Danny, who he guessed was probably the man’s twin brother. “If you come any closer, I’ll shoot him.”
“That don’t bother me none,” the evil twin said.
“What?” Danny sputtered. “We’re brothers.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” the man retorted.
Greyson jumped when the twin pulled the trigger, shooting his brother, Danny. His ears rang and Greyson turned to shoot the son of bitch who shot him first. The bullet hit or grazed Greyson’s arm. He couldn’t tell which. The area burned with agony and he dropped the gun in reflex.
The stranger struck him hard in the face so he fell over.
Danny, who had fallen when shot, reached for Greyson’s gun, but Danny’s twin kicked it out of the way. He had his own gun pointed at Greyson while he stood near Danny.
“Why the fuck did you shoot me?” Danny wanted to know.
“You slept with Melanie.”
A shot rang out, returning the ringing to Greyson’s ears. His head pounded from the impact of having been struck there and then banging it on the building when he landed. His arm felt wet and stiff like it was paralyzed with shock. He sat up and pressed the wound, trying to get his bearings and scoot away despite his dizziness and having had the wind knocked out of him.
A distant click that sounded like the hammer on a gun managed to break through the deafening rings. The stranger he knew was the tormentor from his past had the gun pointed at him as he knelt near him.
“Years ago I told you my name was Danny Finch, that way he’d get arrested for my crimes if they were ever found out. My real name is Saul Finch. I’m his brother and your worst nightmare, or maybe your darkest fantasy. God knows you’re a complicated man.”
The ringing grew dimmer and Greyson was better able to hear the man.
“You killed your own brother.”
“It happens. Did you ever do the nasty with that man you were in love with, or did I scar you too bad?”
Greyson fought for the air that had abandoned his lungs, trying to keep his face neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you don’t.” Saul pulled out a knife with lightning speed while keeping the handgun pointed at him. “I know you remember pleading with me for your life. I told you to give me one good reason why I should let you live.”
Greyson shuddered when the fiend ran the blade over his leg through his jeans without cutting him.
“You tried the usual crap people try to pull that doesn’t mean anything…until I made you tell me that you had feelings for someone.” Saul grinned, alternating between chilling Greyson with his cold eyes and watching the knife make its trek over his pants. “I knew it was a man. You were too responsive to what I did to you to be straight. That and you had that ‘save me from myself and my gay feelings’ vibe going on in those e-mails we exchanged. Such a sad, pathetic weakling.”
“I’m not gonna beg you for my life,” Greyson told him. “How do you know Melanie?”
Saul’s diabolical gaze looked more demon than human when he looked up at him. “I was her first boyfriend. Eleven years ago in L.A. outside the restaurant she worked at, remember that?”
Greyson’s mind raced and he became numb with shock when he recalled who Saul really was. He’d thought their first meeting had been a decade ago when Saul had tricked him into rendezvousing in person. A memory from a year prior to that date proved him wrong.
“You?”
“That’s right.” Strong hostility and god forbid arousal emanated from Saul. “You were so cocky with your badass swagger making eyes at Melanie and scoffing when I told you that someday I was gonna make you just like me. You were too fucking hot and unafraid. I had to have you, break you.”
Greyson couldn’t believe it. Melanie had been the waitress at the restaurant that day—the same gorgeous woman he couldn’t take his eyes off o
f and had wondered about periodically over the years.
Saul scraped the blade over his cheek without cutting him. “If you’re wondering how I found you online after that, I saw that piece of paper in your wallet—the one with that kinky social networking website and your username. It was too easy.”
Greyson shivered. One harmless vacation to Los Angeles with Diego over a decade ago and a fateful conversation with a blue-eyed waitress had shaped his entire destiny. It had been twilight when he met Saul outside the restaurant back then, so he hadn’t recognized him a year later in South Dakota. Greyson didn’t remember faces if he didn’t have to. He had too many damned things to keep track of as it was. He remembered what his family and closest friends looked like at least.
Saul had probably assumed the name Danny when they met again a year later to keep from triggering any memory of a prior meeting in Greyson.
A woman’s scream came from the end of the alley. He saw her run screaming for help.
Saul grinned. “I reckon that’s my cue to leave. But first.”
Greyson yelled out when Saul stabbed his thigh with the knife. Crippling pain exploded in his nerves as blood seeped from the injury.
“I told you I’d come back for you, whore. Let’s just hope I missed your femoral artery. I want you to live.” Saul’s low tone dropped an octave to an eerie hush. “I want you to lie in bed helplessly during your recovery, knowing that you put your fuck buddy’s life in danger. We’re not finished yet, bitch. I told you I would fuck you again and castrate you like we talked about.”
“There’s a difference between fantasy and reality, you son of a bitch,” Greyson ground out through his suffering.
“Not to me.”
Well, that explained a lot.
“I’m coming back for you.” Saul stood swiftly. “I’m gonna make all your twisted fantasies a reality and then I’m gonna kill you. You’ll love it. I promise.”
“I doubt that,” Greyson gritted out. His vision kept going in and out and it was getting harder to breathe.
Saul chuckled. “Oh, you will. I know how to make death erotic. Your death will be the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.”
A commotion came from the end of the alley and Saul took off, firing a couple rounds at whoever was coming. It sounded like he missed. Greyson hollered for help, afraid to move or pull the knife out for fear of nicking a vein or bleeding to death.
Aside from bloodthirsty thoughts toward his adversary, the only other thought in Greyson’s mind at the moment was a frantic concern that he might bleed out and never get the chance to tell Diego how he felt about him.
His thoughts turned to Melanie and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. She seemed different. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed her or wondered what it might be like to share her with Diego. He would never know. Protecting them was more important than caving to his deepest longings, but now he worried he might not be able to protect them from the monster after all.
* * * *
Diego sped all the way to Rapid City when he got the phone call from the hospital. Just what his best friend was doing in another county in the middle of the night was beyond him. The fact that Greyson had been stabbed made him sick, but he had a pretty good idea of what he’d been up to. That damned thrill-seeking of his or talisman for depression had to be the culprit. Paraphilia or catharsis, it didn’t matter. This needed to stop.
At the hospital Diego almost didn’t hear what the doctor or nurse or whoever it was speaking with him said. Something about a bullet having grazed Greyson’s arm and that he’d been stabbed in the leg.
“The knife didn’t go in very deep,” the gentleman said. “The doctor’s with him now.”
Harrowing memories shot through Diego’s mind. Years ago Greyson used to put himself in dangerous situations to experience the high of adrenaline or to distract himself from depression or something else. He’d go out late at night with an empty wallet sticking out of his jeans, encouraging robbers to take their best shot. When they attempted to take the money he didn’t have on him, he’d start a fistfight with them.
He’d started a barroom brawl a couple of times in the saloon. If the O’Neils weren’t related to the Huntingtons, Greyson probably would have been banned from Bull’s Ass Saloon.
Then there was the speeding, both in his truck and on his motorcycle.
Diego had stepped in years ago and informed Greyson that he was taking control of his paraphilia and his pleasure. He forbade Greyson to take his obsession into his own hands again and Greyson had agreed not to when he’d experienced Diego’s seemingly dangerous yet very controlled brand of thrills.
The few times Diego had tried to break Greyson of his psychotic habits, Greyson had taken matters into his own hands and risked his life for that adrenaline-pumping high again. He’d always forced Diego’s hand and gave him no choice but to resume their Dom/sub relationship. It was the only time Greyson would listen to him and view him as an authority figure rather than a ranch hand to order around.
The nurse or doctor or whatever he was brought him back from his encompassing thoughts. “The puncture wound cleaned up nicely. His stitches should be out in about ten days. Keep him off his feet as much as you can for a couple of days so he can rest. Let him walk around a little, though, so he doesn’t get a clot.”
Diego listened as best as he could, remembering all the games of Russian roulette that had scared the shit out of him before he’d started taking the bullet out when Greyson wasn’t looking.
The close calls with the burning building Greyson had insisted on being tied up in, and years earlier when Greyson had Diego shackle him in chains and lay him on the train tracks with the key. Greyson had fiddled with the lock as a train approached. Diego had held off as long as he could possibly stand before he ran over and pulled Greyson to safety. Greyson had been pissed at the intervention, but after Diego had stripped him naked and caned his ass at home the man had seen reason. Once the drugging high had passed, Greyson had thanked Diego for saving his life with sincerity in his eyes.
Always with the dangerous games, or the desire to feel a knife at his balls while threatened with castration and brought to orgasm. The list went on and on. Diego was done. He didn’t want to risk his lover’s life while they fucked. He wanted to take care of Greyson and make love to him.
“Did he say anything?” Diego asked.
“Yeah,” the man replied. “You’re Diego, right?”
“Yes.”
“He said to tell you that he loves you.”
Chapter Ten
Mellie shed her tears until the droplets of heartache ceased. Emmett and Hunter held her in their arms in the oversize sunk-in bathtub in the hotel room and crooned comforting words to her.
“I know I shouldn’t be crying over this. It’s stupid since this was my decision. I just missed out on so much. My little girl is almost a teenager, and I wasn’t there to hear her first words, or for her to walk to as she took her first steps. I missed her first day of school, her first crush, everything.”
Hunter squeezed her tighter and nuzzled her head as she snuggled closer to him and rested her face against his tearstained chest. “It’s not stupid to cry when you’re hurting, Mellie. Your sacrifice gave that little girl a good life and that couple a chance to experience the joys of raising a child—something they wouldn’t have gotten to experience without you.”
“Thanks. I know that’s why I had her. Well, for the other worthless couple, but at least somebody good got her. I just keep thinking it could have been me.”
Emmett cut in. “Actually it never would have been. The only reason you had that child in the first place was to give to a barren couple. You wouldn’t have gotten pregnant for yourself back then, nor gone back on your word to give her up even when you realized you wanted to keep her.”
Hunter heaved an annoyed sigh that made his chest rise and fall against her face. “Emmett, really?”
“Sorry.”
&n
bsp; “No, it’s okay. He’s right,” she agreed. “Katelyn was born to make a barren couple happy. I just had her for the wrong couple, but she ended up with the right one.”
Hunter kissed her head. “God knew what he was doing and let you see her again like you wanted to.”
Emmett snorted. “Hunter, I sincerely hope you’re not giving God credit for the results of a search engine and the intellect I inherited from our mother.”
Mellie kissed Emmett’s hand and then pulled his arm around her so they both held her. “Whatever it was, I’m grateful. I said a thank-you prayer just in case. Thank you again for looking for her, Emmett.”
“You’re welcome. We can always adopt, you know,” Emmett reminded her.
“He’s right, sweetness. We can adopt as many children as you want.”
“As many as you want, beautiful, but not more than two or three.”
She chortled. “Thanks, guys. Don’t worry. I was thinking one or two kids. Maybe a little boy from Africa and later on a little girl from China.”
“That would be wonderful,” Hunter murmured into her hair.
“Two is a good number,” Emmett agreed.
They held each other in a peaceful silence as they soaked in the tub of hot water.
Emmett’s thumb brushed gently over her left nipple a few times, making the nub tighten and rise.
“Are you comforting my breast, Emmett?” she teased with a little sniffle.
“I am. The nipple was down. I thought it best to lift it. I am benevolent, you know.”
Hunter snickered and she giggled.
“What? You don’t think I’m benevolent?” Emmett feigned offense.
“Sure, brother.”
Mellie turned to face him. “I think you’re sweet.”
“Don’t emasculate me,” he teased.
“And hot.”
“That’s better.”
She shared a kiss with Emmett that didn’t end innocently in the least. He deepened the slow kiss and enveloped her in his embrace. Hunter’s warm palms settled over her breasts, warming the nipples. The pads of his fingers felt prune-like from long exposure to water when they stimulated her nubs of flesh.