by J. C. Owens
Chase flushed, looking down and pleating the edges of the bedcovers. “I don’t want power over him. I just want to love him. He needs love.” His embarrassment deepened. Who was he to say such things to Enzo’s security chief? Then again, it was Sergei who had brought up love in the first place. Who would have thought that the large man held such sensitivity and understanding beneath a harsh expression and large, scarred body? His words made it very evident how much he loved and respected Enzo. Chase had known them to be friends, but he had never suspected the depth of it.
“And that is why you will succeed where so many others have failed. You have brought what he has always needed. A selfless love…a true care of him.”
Chase allowed a faint grin to tug at his lips. “You could be on Oprah.”
Sergei snorted, folding his arms over his massive chest. His glare was softened by the smile lingering in his eyes.
“Cheeky little bastard, aren’t you? At least you’ll give Enzo a run for his money. Don’t let him ever cow you. He won’t respect you if you back down all the time.”
Chase grimaced. “I am not the best at standing up for myself. You know that.”
“You are strong in yourself, or you would not have survived all you have. He respects that, having watched you struggle. I am not suggesting you argue with him, but make your viewpoint known in your own way. He will listen, even if he does not always act on your words.”
Chase nodded seriously, biting his lower lip as he considered Sergei’s advice. It made sense, and he did not want to be nothing but a shadow in Enzo’s life. Enzo would forever label him as too young if he did. He had to find a way to make the Martinelli forget about the age difference.
To realize that, despite everything, they were meant to be together.
Sergei brought him food, soup and crackers, and he managed to get most of it down before he began to nod off. He frowned in annoyance at his exhaustion, but Sergei gave him a long lecture on how to recover from bullet wounds, and he must have fallen asleep in the middle of it.
He woke gradually, a smile spreading over his lips as he felt a beloved presence close by.
“Enzo,” he whispered, opening his eyes slowly, joy suffusing him at the closeness of his lover.
Enzo lay beside him, fully dressed, his head propped on one hand, his face serious and closed, eyes expressionless.
Chase ignored it all, leaning forward to lay a kiss upon those lips. For long moments, there was no response, and then Enzo laid him carefully back upon the pillows, and kissed him, soft and sweet, so at odds with his expression.
Chase hummed with pleasure, using his good arm to draw his lover closer. They kissed slowly, languorously, with nothing of haste or sex within it. The tenseness that made Enzo’s body stiff and resistant gradually faded, and Chase felt a glow of victory that he could distract his lover from what had occurred.
Enzo traced his long fingers over Chase’s features, a silent indication of what lay within his thoughts.
“I am fine, Enzo. Still here.” Chase did not even try to lighten the words, did not smile, or try to tease. This was too deep for that, Enzo too on edge.
“They will pay for what they have done.” Enzo’s whisper held dark promise.
Chase returned the touch, stroking Enzo’s lean cheek with his fingers and slowly sliding up into his thick hair. He pulled his lover closer once more, kissing Enzo’s face, mapping each feature with loving care, his heart swelling with the realization that he could do this now, could show his feelings with touch and taste.
Enzo allowed the familiarity, but his eyes did not soften, even if his body had relaxed. The darkness within was in full force, thankfully not directed at Chase himself.
Chase closed his eyes, shivering, burying his face against Enzo’s broad shoulder, as he was gently pulled into the safety of a full embrace.
He did not wish to think of what would come of this and the blood that would be shed in his name.
Chapter Eleven
It took a whole week before Chase felt well enough to rise from the bed. He woke to morning sun upon his cheek, the curtains to the balcony pulled back, and the doors wide open. He yawned and stretched, a smile slowly curving his lips. If the doors were open, then it could only mean Enzo was still here, a strange occurrence so late in the morning hours. He rose slowly, grimacing a bit at the pull on his shoulder, before padding to the balcony dressed in only light sleeping pants hanging low on his hips.
He blinked in the sunlight, lifting his face to its warmth with appreciation. If the shooting had done nothing else, it had made him aware of life, of the little things that made each moment wonderful.
He turned his head, taking in the sight of his lover with a small smile.
Enzo was sitting in his chair, bare-chested, bare feet up on a low stool, his laptop open across his thighs. A frown tilted his eyebrows, and it was some moments before he seemed to become aware of Chase’s presence, and looked up from his work.
Chase strolled closer, leaning to kiss those stern lips, pleased when they relaxed beneath his, returning the gesture.
Enzo raised his right hand, threading his fingers through Chase’s thick hair and teasingly rubbing the scalp with slow, almost sensuous movements.
He groaned ever so slightly, tilting his head like a cat.
Enzo broke the kiss, his gaze sweeping over his features, no doubt cataloging his health as he did so often these days. Chase huffed a breath of resignation, straightening up, regretting the loss of the blissful hand in his hair.
Enzo pulled a chair close, then gestured him into it.
He obeyed, relaxing into the softness with a sleepy groan of appreciation. Faintly he heard Enzo on the phone, ordering breakfast, but he simply reached out and snagged his lover’s free hand, entwining their fingers.
Enzo ended the call, placing the phone back on the table before turning his full attention upon Chase.
“You look much better this morning.” It was half a question.
“As long as I don’t move the shoulder much, you would hardly ever know I was shot.” Chase’s tone held a hint of teasing.
Enzo frowned, eyes darkening for a moment before he slid the laptop onto the table. He leaned forward and captured Chase’s lips once more with more force this time, leaving him humming with arousal by the time they were done.
He blinked rather dazedly, wondering why Enzo had stopped, only to blush furiously as he realized that there were others present, even as their breakfast was set upon the table with brisk efficiency.
He gave a small scowl in Enzo’s direction, as Enzo’s lips twitched with amusement at his embarrassment.
“Eat. Time enough for lust-filled sex later.”
Chase wanted to slide off the chair. He did not think he could be redder. How was it possible that after everything he had endured, this man had the power to make him flush like a teenager? His scowl deepened.
Enzo laughed, a bright clear sound in the morning air, and Chase could only watch, fascinated. God, he was in love with this man, even shame a distant thing if he could bring humor to his lover.
Dark eyes twinkled with rare amusement as Enzo brought Chase’s fingers to his lips in a quixotic gesture of fondness. “You are so easy to tease, my boy. It is almost too tempting.”
“I doubt you are restraining yourself,” he grumbled, though he was unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. The kitchen staff was leaving, much to his relief.
“Oh, it could be much, much worse. Ask Kirith sometime about how his big brother has tortured him over the years.”
Chase filed that information away for future study. He had a hard time imagining Enzo as a boy, with all the inclinations of youth. Had he ever been carefree, innocent? Or had his family, his father, taken that from him so early he had never got a chance to be a child at all? Chase wanted to snatch that child away, protect him from the future.
He blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Enzo leaned past him to grasp a larg
e mug of coffee. The Martinelli took a first sip, closing his eyes in deep appreciation and licking his lips as he finished.
Chase shook his head at his own fascination. Was it remotely healthy that he was feeling hot and bothered by such a simple thing? Boy, he had it bad.
Enzo shot him a look that was filled with far too much knowledge, pulling his hand free. “Eat. You are too thin as it is.”
Chase rolled his eyes, but sat forward, mouth beginning to water at the smell of fresh bacon and a perfectly turned omelet. All of a sudden he was ravenously hungry.
As usual, Enzo ate in fits and starts, perusing his laptop beside his plate with a frown of concentration, sometimes muttering under his breath in impatient Italian.
Chase finished first and sat back with a contented sigh of repletion, sipping his orange juice and enjoying the moment. Everything was peaceful, and he soaked in the sun after a week of being stuck in bed. The breeze was light on his face, rippling the surface of the lake below, and the soft cries of birds upon the water soothed his nerves. He reached out with his good arm, resting his fingers upon Enzo’s thigh with nothing of sexual intent, only the need to feel his lover linked with him.
“If you could, would you find a different way of living, something that would keep you safe for me?” Chase froze, unable to believe he had voiced that aloud.
Beside him, Enzo had stopped abruptly in his typing, and Chase could sense his stare upon him.
Oh dear God, what had he done?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to face his lover. “That was a stupid thing to say.”
“To speak from the heart is never foolish. If I were a better man, I could give you your wish.” Enzo’s tone held a bitterness, a certain degree of self-denigration.
Chase turned in the chair, drawing Enzo down for a kiss, stroking a lean cheek with loving fingers. “You give me so much. I am greedy for wanting anything else.”
Enzo watched him with weariness evident in his expression. “This is one of the concerns that I voiced before. You are so young. I want you to live life free of…” He paused, frowning.
“The family?” he questioned, an edge of dislike in his tone. “I hate what they did to you. I want more for you, want to love you until the end of time, not wait for a call that tells me you have been shot.” He raised his hand to his own shoulder, the imagery of such a thing happening to Enzo making him physically ill.
“The violence of the Martinelli line would have insured I would have led such a life sooner or later. I was never a good person, Chase, no matter your fantasies. I killed my first man at fourteen, tortured a man at sixteen. By your age, I was a seasoned assassin, and believe me, some of my targets did not deserve death.”
He took Enzo’s right hand and stroked his fingers over it. “But the drugs—why? Do you not see what it does?” This above all things bothered him.
Enzo drew back a little, quirking a brow. “Should I worry about those who choose to take substances harmful to themselves? I see no need to feel sympathy for stupidity.” He shrugged. “I supply what they want. I do not force them to take it. It is what my father did, what will be done long after my time.”
“Sometimes it is not so simple. I had a friend on the street. His mother was an addict. The moment he had the smallest trace of cocaine, he was too.”
Enzo sat back, expression cooling. “He made the choice to take that first hit. No other. You ask me to care for people. That is not in me. Don’t try to give me sentiments that don’t exist. People mean nothing to me.”
Chase felt his breathing hitch. He knew there was more to Enzo, but how to prove it to a man who had been born and bred to be exactly what he was? He had been taught to be without emotion, to foster nothing but brutal leadership. Violence nurtured a state of mind that held everyone not of his family to be enemy. Yet, he loved, whether he realized it or not. There was emotion within him, a sliver of humanity that had not been destroyed despite his father’s best efforts. If Chase could get him away from this influence, show him a world where everyone was not a potential threat, could there be hope that Enzo might possibly turn from violence, and find a different path?
It would take a miracle. And he was damned well going to find one. Enzo had saved him, dragged him from the depths, and given him new life. He would do anything to return the favor.
Enzo was worth fighting for.
A knock sounded upon the office door.
Enzo felt annoyance rise and gestured to Raymond to answer the door.
Sergei entered, expression grim, seating himself at a wave from Enzo, who was on the phone. Enzo listened intently, feeling tension rise, before hearing the words he had hoped for. He relaxed back into the leather chair. As if in concert, Raymond sighed, his body seeming to release its own tension. His aide had been party to the morning’s dealings and had been making calls of his own.
For now, he enjoyed the last moments of talking to his friend. “Sì. Good to know, my friend. As always, if you need help, Santos, you only have to call. Sì. Sì. Good then. Ciao.” Enzo placed the phone down, swiveling to face Sergei fully.
“Well, you look like a bundle of joy, my friend. What are we dealing with now?”
Sergei sighed. “Paolo was killed about an hour ago on the west side of the city. He and two of his bodyguards were ambushed leaving a restaurant. Shot. All three died instantly.”
Enzo stared at him for a long moment, then leaned back, fingers slowly curling over the front edge of the armrests. He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That was one less scheming uncle to contend with.
Sergei lifted his eyebrow. “There is something you are not telling me. You already knew, didn’t you?”
“I have just been speaking with Santos. He said that he found moles in the southern lines, trying to create suspicion between us. They do not know how close we are or how often we communicate. He says that he did some investigating, forced some people to talk. The plot traced back to Paolo.”
“So Santos ordered a hit on Paolo?” Sergei shook his head, confused.
It was unlike Santos to interfere on Enzo’s domain, but Enzo could see how Sergei could jump to such a conclusion. “No. My guess is Benito.”
“You knew that it was likely to be Paolo interfering in the south, so you offered Benito the leadership.” Sergei was testing out the words slowly.
Enzo nodded. “I could hardly kill one of my own, Sergei. That would make me my father, wouldn’t it?”
Sergei huffed out a laugh. “So you got Benito to turn on him. Slick.” He leaned back in the chair, expression relaxing. “Still, I had thought them closer than that. I have to confess to being a little bit surprised.”
“Honor among thieves? Come now, Sergei, have I not taught you better than that? Benito would kill his own son to become the Martinelli.” Enzo curled his lip at the thought of father sacrificing son. Even his own father had never turned on Enzo, mad though he had been.
“So this way, they do the work for you, true to their nature. Are you not worried that Paolo’s family will think this was you?” Raymond sounded skeptical.
“I simply put a bug in the right ear. The rumors lead back to Benito.”
“You clever bugger.” Sergei’s laugh held admiration. “All without putting any of us in the line of fire.”
“I do not waste wolves upon the elimination of mad dogs, my friend.”
“This could get ugly damn quickly.” Sergei’s voice had a grim tone about it. “To pit Paolo’s family against Benito’s. It could tear the family apart.”
Enzo said nothing. Didn’t need to.
Sergei nodded. “You have no intention of preventing this war, do you? What are you up to, my friend?”
“For years I have stood at the head of this family, stepping in to keep things calm, preventing the bloodshed they long for so much. I am unwilling to continue to do so.”
Sergei watched him in silence. Beside him, Raymond only nodded. Enzo was fully aware of what his a
ide thought of the Martinelli clan.
“You think I owe them loyalty?” Enzo’s laugh sounded bitter to his own ears. “Do you forget what they did to my brother? They would have killed him in revenge for shooting our father. And yet, secretly they reveled in Father’s demise, wanted his power, fought against my ascent to leadership. They used everything they could to topple me in the beginning, and it was only because of you and your men that I succeeded. The Martinellis are like a pack of feral dogs, just waiting for me to falter, to tear me down. I have spent most of my life protecting them, leading them, and now, I find myself resenting the waste.”
“Because of Chase.” Sergei’s tone held nothing but approval.
Enzo felt a warmth in his chest at his friend’s support.
“Chase wants more than I can give him at this moment. If it is at all possible, I want to be more for him. Better perhaps.” Enzo tilted his lips with grim humor. “I don’t really see how this will be possible, but…”
Sergei leaned forward, intensity in every line of his body.
“I am here, my friend. Whatever comes, I am here.”
Raymond’s hand on his shoulder seconded the statement.
Chase heard about the shooting later that day from Enzo, and he felt a chill run up his spine at the news. This could only lead to warfare amongst the family if Benito truly was the culprit.
Enzo seemed secure in that fact, and Chase could not understand his lack of response.
“Will you not have to look into this? Will they not blame you instead?” Concern for his lover was evident in his anxiety.
Enzo leaned forward to kiss him, where they sat at dinner in the huge banquet room of the house. The men and their significant others, whether male or female, came once a week to this room, where it was like a loud, noisy family. Chase loved it, loved the softness it brought to Enzo’s expression. This was the family Enzo deserved, not those who sought his death in a quest for power.