Out of the Darkness

by J. C. Owens

  “God isn’t listening, Jason. He knows you. He knows what you have done, and I think he will be looking elsewhere for worthy people to save today, hmm?” The Martinelli’s voice was soft and rich, almost gentle.

  A sob burst from his throat. He opened tear-wet eyes. “Please…”

  The knife flashed, and the other cheek opened.

  “Did my little niece plead with you as you took her from her home? As you took her father and delivered him to Marcello, knowing what would happen to him?” The voice was eerily calm.

  Jason shuddered. “It was a mistake, forgive me.”

  He raised one dark eyebrow, his eyes growing colder. “A mistake? Yes, it was, Jason. You betrayed me. You harmed my family.” He straightened up, flicking blood away before passing it to Raymond. The aide produced a cloth from his pocket and swept it across the blade with brisk efficiency before snapping it closed with a flick of his wrist. Enzo accepted the blade back, sitting down at the table and picking up his glass once more.

  He swirled the liquid, inhaling deeply. “You did well, Raymond. This vintage does great justice to the vintner.”

  Raymond nodded, corking the bottle with care. “I think I might order a few more bottles, if you approve.”

  Enzo took a sip, letting it linger upon his tongue for long moments before swallowing. “I very much approve.”

  “Trent,” he called then, and Jason began to fight his chains, crying out as the door opened and a large form limped through. His former captain. The man he had tried to kill when Kirith had been taken.

  Lips drew back from white teeth in a feral grin.

  “Hello, Jason. Long time no see. I’ve been waiting to talk to you.” Trent motioned with his left hand, and four other men strode into the room, all of them frighteningly familiar to Jason. “Remember us? The ones you tried to kill, the ones you betrayed? You killed seven of us that night; seven lives you owe us.”

  Trent looked over at Enzo, and the Martinelli nodded.

  Trent grinned. “It’s going to be a long night, Jason. Too bad you won’t see morning.”

  The men moved forward.

  Enzo glanced at Raymond, but his assistant shook his head when his boss gestured toward Jason. Watching would give him enough satisfaction it seemed. Enzo turned back, lips slowly curling into a terrifyingly satisfied smile.

  * * *

  Chase heaved a deep sigh, slamming the car door behind him as he struggled to hold all his books. His old Jetta looked like a country cousin parked amidst the Mercedes and Escalades, with Enzo’s Audi R8 sneering at it from its own place of honor near the front door.

  His heart raced a little at sight of the beautiful car.

  Enzo was home then.

  He had been gone some three weeks attending business somewhere in Florida, and Chase knew better than to question where or how long his guardian might be.

  Enzo was gentle with him, but he also demanded total respect and compliance in return, and the members of the household knew to keep any curiosity completely hidden. Their boss had no patience for mistakes or less than perfect work. Loyalty was paramount and not up for negotiation. The slightest hint otherwise was a fatal blunder.

  In return, the Martinelli knew every person on the estate, every member of their family, every minute detail of their lives, and he saw to it that they were cared for and protected with his name and his resources.

  The staff loved him and feared him in the same breath.

  Chase merely loved him.

  He had gone through too much in his young life to begin to fear the man who was his hero, his savior. His only fear was that one day his guardian would see him for the tainted soul he was and cast him out from his presence.

  That would be the end of days.

  He could not remember how old he had been when he first started living on the streets, when he had first sold his body. He had dim memories of a mother too far gone in drugs and alcohol to feed her child or to care what he did; it was a vague and surreal thing, as though she had never really existed at all. Amazingly, he had avoided the drugs, more out of the need to eat than any real intention, although he had seen far too much of what they did and where people ended up under their influence. He probably would have ended up just another drug statistic if Marcello had not found him and taken him for his entertainment. In some ways, he owed the man. In other ways, his mind was forever scarred by what he had undergone while in those cruel hands.

  He was drug-free, but a mental wreck.

  It was ironic that he now lived with the head of the Martinelli family, kings of the drug trade. If his acquaintances could see him now—living in the lap of luxury—they would think him the luckiest bastard who ever existed. It was like a fairy tale or a movie. The prostitute falling in love with a rich mobster.

  If only it was returned.

  He sighed a little wistfully, wending his way through the multitude of vehicles.

  If there were this many people here, then Enzo was probably caught up in meetings.

  Still, there was hope to see him at dinner. Enzo always liked to know how Chase’s day had gone, how his schooling was coming. He had insisted on him going to the local college to work on finishing high school courses so that he could choose a career.

  It had been made very plain indeed that he would not be joining the family in any illegal activities.

  Chase was touched that Enzo wanted to keep him from the seamier side of life, but it seemed a little late for that. Still, he would do anything to make the older man proud, and if going to college and making something of himself was the way, then he would do it gladly.

  He was proving to be more intelligent than he would have given himself credit for, and it was beginning to give him a modicum of confidence.

  Two years of psychological therapy had not hurt either.

  He was beginning to feel less like a ragged excuse for a soul and more like a person, one who had a chance in life now and should grasp it with both hands…and thank God and Enzo in the doing.

  The front door swung open at his approach. He sighed with relief and shifted the books in his arms. He did not have a hand to work with at the moment. Rafe, one of the younger bodyguards, cousin to a close friend of Sergei’s, grinned at him. He was only twenty-five, two years older than Chase and not as standoffish as the other guards. Chase smiled back. Rafe was beautiful. But he felt nothing when he looked at that perfect body. His heart was already taken. Hopelessly.

  Rafe grabbed half the books, pretending to groan under the weight.

  “You don’t need to work out, Chase. I never realized learning was so damn heavy.” He staggered along, some of the other nearby bodyguards rolling their eyes at his performance, especially Sergei, the head of security, whom Rafe lived to annoy.

  Chase chuckled. No matter how down he might get, Rafe knew exactly how to bring him out of it.

  Rafe was a friend. Possibly he wanted to be more than that, but Chase did not want him to be hurt, to realize he could only ever be second best.

  Rafe tossed the books down on the kitchen table, and the housekeeper, Ms. Granger, turned to look at him with patent disapproval that softened as soon as she saw Chase.

  Chase did not really understand why, but it seemed that he was a favorite with many of the staff. They looked after him, tried to keep his spirits up, and, in Ms. Granger’s case, fed him until he exploded.

  “I made you the chicken lasagna you like so much. Just ten more minutes.”

  She looked a little harassed today, and the sound of laughter beyond the double doors of the vast kitchen certainly explained why.

  He raised a brow. “That’s an awfully noisy meeting.”

  Ms. Granger frowned, casting a glance filled with loathing toward the ruckus.

  “She…” the single word spoke volumes, “planned a party for Mr. Martinelli. Ordered caterers, as though I cannot cook.”

  He clenched his fingers on the table edge, trying to keep his face neutral enough. The rest of t
he staff disliked Stacey as it was. He did not need to add fuel to the fire.

  “A party for what?”

  “Who knows? The stage of the moon perhaps?” Ms. Granger’s acid tongue gave an edge to the words. Rafe coughed, obviously hiding a laugh.

  Chase frowned at him. The last thing they needed was to set Ms. Granger on a rampage. People suffered for days after such an event, and usually it was Enzo who had to calm things down.

  “She’s just trying to—”

  “She is just trying to get a ring on her finger. I used to think Mr. Martinelli was too smart for such tactics, but lately, I don’t know.” Her disapproval was evident.

  Chase’s stomach clenched. His indrawn breath was shaky at best.

  “Where is he?” He was proud that the longing he felt was absent from those simple words.

  “In the pool.” Ms. Granger almost spit the words, and she turned back to the kitchen counter with dark dislike painted clearly in her expression.

  His eyebrows rose. “The pool? Enzo never has time to—”

  “Apparently he has time for her. Foolish man. I have half a mind to tell him…”

  Chase laid a hand on her arm, ever the peacemaker. “He’s been pretty tense these last few months. Maybe he just needs to unwind a little. This might be a good thing.”

  She hesitated, then half turned to him, looking up into his eyes with a searching gaze that saw things far too clearly for his peace of mind. Her anger seemed to drain away into something more weary and worn.

  She took a hand and reached up to tuck a strand of rebellious hair behind his ear. “He is looking for something that is right here.”

  He tilted his head questioningly, but she just patted his cheek and turned back to her work.

  “I just know that if she becomes mistress here, I am going elsewhere.” Her words were punctuated by the whack of the knife on the board, making even Rafe look somewhat nervous.

  Chase gave her a hug from the back, kissing her cheek.

  “He would never find such a talented cook as you, Ms. Granger. I would probably pine away for your food, and you would have to feel so guilty.”

  She tried not to smile, but smacked him lightly, thankfully with the hand that didn’t hold the knife.

  “Get on with you, boy. Pine away, indeed. Why don’t you go out and swim? It might be the only chance to actually encounter himself in the pool, and I know you enjoy the water.”

  He nodded obediently. Normally he would have avoided the party like the plague, since he hated elaborate get-togethers where the guests were drunk or high as kites. But right now, he missed Enzo terribly, not to mention this would be a rare chance to see him in swimming trunks.

  Fuel for jacking off for a long time to come.

  What magazine could possibly compare?

  Decision made, he sprinted out of the kitchen. If he did not hurry…

  He changed into his swimming trunks in record time, pulling a black T-shirt on as well, not wishing to go out amongst strangers half nude. He drew a deep breath as he went down the stairs silently in bare feet. It was going to be hard to face all these people, especially if a lot of them were men. He had come a long way since his experiences with Marcello, but his therapist had made it very clear that the mental scars would always be there. All he could do was try to understand himself and his reactions, to gain control. And he had, with a mixture of determination and strength he would never have thought he possessed. For the first time in his life, with Enzo looking after him, he had felt safe enough to try to understand himself, to feel like maybe he was worth trying for.

  He had a long way to go—he held no illusions of that—but he had come far already and Enzo had made it perfectly clear that that was something to be proud of.

  Chase had to believe him, right?

  He passed through the huge double doors that delineated the private areas of the family from the ornate parts of the villa that hosted outsiders. He blinked at the array of people before threading his way through their ranks. Most were standing, talking, and laughing, drinks in hand, the smell of marijuana heavy in the air.

  This close, he could see the dilated pupils of many of the guests, and he steered clear of those people, not wanting to incite any weird reactions from them. Obviously more than pot was being passed around. Most of them merely glanced at him, then away, seeing only a young man of no particular importance in their world. Chase was grateful and kept his gaze away from any specific person. Some men he recognized here, and their tempers were something to avoid.

  He could hear splashing from the pool before he could actually see it through the bodies standing in his way, and he caught Stacey’s high-pitched giggle that always made him grit his teeth. When he finally managed to get to the edge, he noticed the hungry looks on several of the nearby women as they watched someone in the water, and at least two men had the same expression.

  He could not blame them.

  Enzo sliced through the water with the same precise power that he displayed in everything he did. He was doing laps, but without true speed, merely a lazy stretching of muscles as his restlessness drove him to move.

  Chase drew a shivering breath into his lungs, eyes tracing every line of that beautiful body with a longing that made his chest ache.

  Enzo reached the end and dived, pushing off, the muscles of his legs clearly delineated for a moment before he began swimming again. He seemed oblivious to everyone around him, as though he were utterly alone. Even those guests who were in the water, floating lazily by the sides, were ignored.

  Chase shot a quick, guilty glance to the far side of the pool, where Stacey was holding court with admirers and friends, her perfect body artfully arranged on the chaise lounge. His lips twisted. Far be it for her actually to get wet. Stacey always seemed like one not to let anything ruin her perfect veneer or to participate in anything that might show her as anything approaching mortal.

  He returned his attention to Enzo, his heart quickening as he realized Enzo had changed course and was heading directly for him.

  He held his ground, hands twisting in the towel, wishing he could be cooler and calmer around the object of his affection.

  Enzo reached the side of the pool and raised one hand to rake back his thick, black hair, looking up at him with a slow smile that made Chase shiver with longing. That smile did the most amazing things to his stomach, making it tie in knots while his heart sped up.

  The smile itself was rare enough to be greatly treasured, and right now, it held a certain fondness, a slight opening for him that few received.

  It meant more to Chase than any amount of money. That this intensely private man had accepted him—let him into his inner circle—was heady indeed.

  Those dark eyes moved down his body, lingering on his shorts for moment. Before Chase could realize what was happening, Enzo lunged up and caught him around the waist, dragging him into the water.

  He barely had the forethought to suck in a breath before he struck the water’s surface.

  A certain madness overcame him, and he twisted like an eel out of Enzo’s hold before turning to drag the older man under the water with him.

  Enzo did not even seem to resist, and through the clear water of the pool, Chase saw the grin that denoted warfare.

  He lunged for the surface, gasping and sputtering, managing a few breaths before the Martinelli was on him again. They rolled like two otters, a playfulness in Enzo’s manner that few would have associated with him.

  Chase gave up the fight—well, it was give up or drown—laughing so hard he could scarcely breathe.

  “I give, geez, I give already!” He folded his arms over the edge of the pool, panting and coughing, wiping back his hair with one hand as he glared at Enzo. “My school marks are going to be useless if you kill me before I graduate.”

  Enzo laughed out loud, a rare event that made heads turn, as though everyone had not been watching them discretely anyway. Enzo Martinelli was not known to have a lighter sid
e. To see it displayed so blatantly would be fuel for gossip for a long time to come, no doubt.

  Enzo floated beside him, arms folded as Chase’s were, elbow to elbow on the ornate pool edge. He still grinned slightly; his deep brown eyes alight, and for once free of the shadows that denoted his darker nature.

  Chase tried not to focus on the drops of water that gleamed upon that dark Italian skin, trickled down that harsh, handsome face. He tried to push aside the need and want that had hardened his body in very inconvenient places. The Martinelli could never know that the pathetic little waif he had rescued was madly, completely in love with him. It would be the final humiliation for Chase.

  Such a powerful man, and so beautiful, had many panting after him. He did not need yet another person lusting for him. Their relationship had slowly molded into a friendship of sorts, a guardian/ward type of bond that meant more to him than anything else.

  Enzo cared. It may have started in necessity, not knowing quite what to do with Chase when he had rescued him, but it had ended in this, whatever this might be labeled. Enzo’s niece, Laura, might have started it all, with her refusal to let Chase out of her sight after their mutual imprisonment, but the Martinelli could have discreetly shuffled Chase off to a private treatment facility after Laura returned to her father, Kirith, and his lover, Landon. It would have been what most men would have done—a damaged young man on their hands, of no blood ties whatsoever.

  That Enzo had kept him had always confused Chase, but his idol had made it very plain that he was here for the long term, as long as he wished. There had been no doubts about that, no gray areas for him to worry about or build to epic proportions with his innate lack of self-worth.

  As long as he wished—forever sounded pretty damn good.

  His thoughts fled as Enzo hoisted himself with athletic ease from the pool, water sluicing down over that powerful form, shining with a silver tinge in the sun’s light. Chase had to force his jaw closed, fight back the drool that wanted to form.

  So damn beautiful…and so unattainable.

  Enzo offered a hand, and Chase reached up to grasp it, trying to imprint all these moments upon his mind’s eye so he could take them out later and examine each with the reverence it deserved.