by J. C. Owens
“I have sent out some of my men to investigate, in clear sight. No one will be able to say I accepted this without action. Word on the street is already pointing to Benito though, as it did in your shooting.”
Chase froze in place. “It was Benito who had me shot? Your own uncle? Why?” True bewilderment filled his expression, and Enzo reached out to stroke his cheek, loving the innocence that still remained within the boy, the lack of malice.
“Because he hates me. Because he and the family begrudge me the smallest amount of happiness. And you are my happiness.”
The declaration fell straight to Chase’s soul. He had never thought Enzo would voice his emotions so freely, and in front of others. He could not speak for the wonder he felt.
Enzo’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “Do not ever think that I do not value you or treasure your presence. I am not good with flattery or fine words, but you are mine, Chase.” His dark eyes flared with possessiveness, making Chase shiver with need.
In that moment, Chase knew that he had received his dearest wish. Enzo wanted him truly, needed him even. Surely there could be no greater joy in this lifetime.
Yet fear niggled at the edges of his consciousness. If the Martinellis began rending each other, Enzo would clearly be one of their targets. He clutched Enzo’s hand more tightly and raised it to his lips, breathing a fervent prayer for protection over the tanned skin.
He caught Raymond’s eye over Enzo’s shoulder, and was surprised when the man nodded to him. The meaning was clear. Enzo would be protected at all costs.
Enzo strolled into the dining room, stooping to lay a kiss on Chase’s lips as he passed.
Ms. Granger noted his arrival and bustled about the kitchen readying lunch for them.
“How is the paperwork going? Did you need help?” Enzo pulled a chair to Chase’s side so he could view Chase’s handiwork more closely.
Chase ran a hand through his ruffled hair once more, leaning to give Enzo a kiss of greeting.
“I think I am finally done. Ms. Granger’s youngest son went to college two years ago, so she remembers some of the paperwork and how to do it. It really helped. If the course is harder than these damned forms, I am doomed.”
Enzo tsk-tsked at him. “You are a smart and strong-minded young man. You will do fine. I cannot help but be pleased you chose the local college.”
Chase snorted and looked at him askance. “As if I would leave you now? Please…” He rolled his eyes.
“The programs for architecture are more highly rated in Miami.” Enzo thanked Ms. Granger as she set coffee before him.
“You are more important. It is going to be hard enough to leave you during the week, much less not even see you. This will be fine, and besides, I have Kirith. He can teach me more when we go there on holiday than any school ever could.”
Enzo’s lips tilted at mention of his younger brother. “He is a genius in the field, or so I have been told. I will have to tease some of that ego down, next time we go.”
Chase signed the final paper, letting out a long sigh of relief. Shuffling them into a neat pile, he smiled as Ms. Granger placed breakfast in front of Enzo and then him. Reaching out, he pulled Ms. Granger in for a hug.
She swatted at him, flushed with pleasure, and disappeared back into the environs of the kitchen.
Chase ate for several minutes with gusto, finding himself absolutely famished, musing silently on Enzo’s words.
“When can we go see them? I miss them all, especially Kirith and Laura. And Landon, when he is not teasing me unmercifully, can be a lot of fun.”
Enzo growled ever so faintly, as he always did at mention of Landon’s name.
“That boy is a menace.”
Chase grinned, took a long drink of orange juice, and leaned in to give Enzo a citrus kiss. “You like him. You just don’t want to.”
Enzo refused to answer, focusing on the meal with rapt attention.
Chase laughed and nudged him. “Come on, admit it!”
Enzo scowled. “As long as he makes Kirith happy, I will tolerate him.”
Chase rolled his eyes, bolting down his food. “I have to go take the forms in this afternoon and talk to the counselor there. I should be back by supper.” Energy hummed through his veins, and he could scarcely stop himself from fidgeting. This was a big step in his life, something that would give him the independence he craved, while allowing him to remain at Enzo’s side. With luck and perseverance, he hoped to create a career that would earn him Enzo’s respect, and a way to stay home to be with his lover. If Kirith could do this, then so could he.
Enzo pulled him into a long kiss as he finished the meal, tongues winding about each other, sharing breath. It was hard to stand up afterward, and Chase could not resist bending down to capture another kiss. Enzo obliged, before giving him a smack upon the butt that made him yelp. Casting a reproachful glare at his lover, he rubbed his abused posterior.
“If I am going to be abused, I am not sure I want to rush back.”
Enzo’s eyes glinted. “I have paperwork and phone calls this afternoon, but nothing after that. I thought we could spend time in the pool.”
Chase’s mind immediately supplied some rather vivid fantasies of exactly what they could get up to and how many positions.
He shook his head and stepped back. “Stop that. How am I supposed to focus on school when you put images like that in my mind?”
Enzo rose to his feet, and drew Chase to him with one arm, bending to kiss along his neck, before biting softly, leaving a reddened mark. “Mine,” he growled. “Remember that, when you are there.”
“As if I could forget,” Chase replied somewhat breathlessly, leaning up for another kiss.
Enzo pulled back with a smile. “Go then. Think of cool water sliding along your skin.”
Chase groaned, snatching up the papers and fleeing, Enzo’s laughter making him smile.
Chapter Twelve
Enzo got off the phone to Santos with a feeling of satisfaction. His friend had definitely cleaned house, finding and removing a number of moles and tidying up several weak spots that had gone unnoticed. He had caught Santos up on events here and told him to keep an eye on Benito’s work to see if he had the skill to head Enzo’s southern connections.
He doubted it. With the Martinellis at each other’s throats, sooner or later, his uncle’s arrogance and bluster were going to get him killed, but it would not be by Enzo’s hand. That his death was a forgone conclusion pleased him. He had harmed Chase. But simply to kill the man was not enough. For him to kill himself through stupidity, with the understanding that he had failed, that was enough revenge. For once, Enzo’s hands would be clean.
The reason for his seeming patience was clear to him. To kill another in Chase’s name would be distasteful and distressing to his lover. Therefore, it would be done more illusively, with the same result.
He could be patient.
He glanced outside at the sunshine trying to lure him onto the balcony, before sighing, and turning back to his desk. He had too much to do if he was going to devote the evening to Chase.
A knock on the door was welcome distraction from work.
“Sì.”
Raymond poked his head in, looking anything but pleased.
“Ren is here. Wanting to speak to you. Should I send him away?”
His eyebrow rose. Everything had seemed fine at their last meeting at the restaurant. Ren had been disappointed, yes, but hardly broken hearted. Whatever could he want so soon after their amiable split?
“Let him in. A friend should not be ignored.”
Raymond expression tightened, but he nodded.
He sat back in his chair, stretching his back with a faint groan. Damn paperwork. It was one thing he would not miss if the family was to fall.
A faint knock on the doorframe made him look up.
Ren grinned at him and breezed into the room with his usual flair, sinking gracefully into the plush chair across from his
desk.
“Mio amico! I was passing by and could not resist stopping in. I saw Rafael yesterday!”
Enzo relaxed. Nothing serious then—no play on trying to get back in his bed. He should have trusted Ren more. His friend had never played games with him, had always been to the point. He might be somewhat scattered, but he had been a true friend through the years, even if they had not remained in each other’s pockets.
He smiled back, shaking his head.
“I have not seen Rafael in…ten years or so. What is the sneaky bastard up to?”
Ren gestured to the wine decanters on the sideboard. “Do you mind? I am parched. What can I get you?”
He sighed, looking at the amount of paperwork yet to be done. “Scotch. Neat. It might get me through this lot.”
Ren chuckled as he rose, took his time selecting a wine, and poured it out before turning to Enzo’s scotch.
“Rafael is the father of twins.”
Enzo stared, before leaning back, and laughing out loud. “Rafael? Good God, I would love to see him trying to juggle two babies. Boys? Girls?”
“One of each, I was told.” Ren finally turned back, a glass in each hand. He passed the scotch to Enzo and resumed his own seat, lounging back, and tasting the wine with an appreciative hum. He then held out the glass. “To our old friend and his new path of fatherhood.”
Enzo picked up his glass and returned the gesture.
“To Rafael!”
He took a drink, the potent scotch sliding down his throat smoothly, though with a faint aftertaste that made him frown. He was sure he had already tasted some of this particular bottle, but…
“So how is your new relationship holding up? I was very sorry to hear about the shooting. I should have phoned you.” Ren’s voice was a little stiff, but Enzo was pleased he was making the effort to be polite about Chase.
“He is a tough one. Sergei whined about being shot the last time, much more than Chase did now.” Enzo could not help but grin at the thought.
Ren arched an eyebrow, laughing. “Sergei? Whining? I find that hard to believe. The man is pure granite.”
“He has his cracks, believe me!” He swirled his scotch, leaning his head back against the chair and watching Ren with a smile.
Ren shook his head ruefully. “I will have to take your word for it.” He took another drink, savoring the fine wine. “So where is Chase anyway?”
“He is at the college today, handing in his forms and getting orientation.” He could not help the proud expression.
Ren nodded. “I would have thought he would go to a larger college.”
“He decided to stay here, at least in the short term.”
“Couldn’t leave you, hmm? Smart boy.” There was the faintest bite in the words, and Enzo tilted his head to regard his friend more closely.
“We discussed this before, my friend. Yet now you seem…”
“Regretful? Damn right.” Ren’s voice held more bitterness than Enzo would have expected. “You have always been mine. It is hard to give that up.”
He stared at him long moments, blinking. “We have never claimed each other. It was what made our friendship so solid. You would not have stood for possession any more than I would have. And we had spent a great deal of time apart before your return.”
Ren looked down, clenching his jaw. “A great mistake. One I plan to correct.”
He was puzzled by the intensity he was picking up from Ren. The man had always been moody and swift tempered, but this hard determination he was projecting was new. “It would please me greatly if we can keep our friendship intact. It is not as though I have that many close friends to squander. Time and circumstance have taken many of them from me.”
He sighed silently, feeling weariness creep up upon him. With everything that was happening right now, he did not need another burden.
Ren attempted a stiff smile. “Forgive me. I am low today.” He held out his glass again. “To our friendship and its continuation into old age.”
Enzo picked up his scotch, smiling back. “To friendship.” He took a stiff drink, needing something to give him strength. He had never been good at emotional speeches. When he went to set the glass down, his fingers shook and he almost spilled it, only Ren’s quick action saving the precious scotch from waste.
Ren came around the desk, concern on his face. “You are pale, mi amore. Are you feeling well?”
He looked at his fingers with shock. They trembled noticeably, and he was beginning to feel faint. What in hell?
“You have been working too hard, as usual. Let’s get you to the couch. Come.” Ren drew him up from the chair, bracing him when he swayed alarmingly.
The couch seemed a million miles away, and he had never been so grateful to sink into the soft leather, laying down full length with a feeling of utter relief. His senses were swimming completely now, and when he tried to speak to Ren, only a hoarse croak emerged. His body was both hot and cold at the same time, and it was hard to think straight.
Ren stroked his hair back, intense eyes staring into his own. “Sleep, my friend. You will feel better when you wake.”
Some instinct made Enzo fight against unconsciousness, no matter how it beckoned. Something was very, very wrong here. If he could just think…
The door opened, and Ren glanced up, relief in his expression. “You took your damned time. Did you get rid of his guards?”
“Done. Got Raymond to go downstairs. The helicopter will be here in ten.”
Enzo’s eyes widened at the familiar tone, disbelief beginning to get a foothold in his muddled senses.
No. This could not be happening.
“Help me carry him. Then you can do your worst.” Ren’s voice held cold malice. “Especially to the kid.”
Enzo half sat up, adrenaline clearing the weakness for a precious moment, disbelief fading into fury.
Ren turned to him, easily blocking the movement, effortlessly forcing Enzo back down onto the couch. He leaned in, a look of smug satisfaction and triumph written across his face.
“You are mine. Always have been. No kid is going to take that away from me.” He leaned in, traced his fingers over Enzo’s cheek, his eyes filled with honest emotion. “I have saved you, my love. They would have killed you, but I brokered a deal for us. By the time we reach our destination, it will all be over, and we can start anew, free of the family. You don’t understand right now, but…”
The shot was quiet enough, silenced down to a faint pop, but the effect was no less horrific. Ren’s head virtually disappeared, and Enzo gagged as blood and other matter sprayed his face. Ren’s lifeless body slumped to the floor in front of the couch, and Enzo managed to look up, meeting familiar eyes.
No.
“Stupid fucker. Actually thought we would let you go. But it was great he drugged you. Helped a lot.” The smile was cold and malicious. “But now you die. Not fast, not like him. The house is rigged to blow as soon as I leave. Not right here, just close enough to start a massive fire.”
He turned away, paused in the doorway to look back.
“Goodbye, Enzo.” He savored the name. “You have made me a very rich man with your death.” A light laugh, and he was gone.
Enzo struggled to sit, fury and betrayal giving him momentary strength.
He managed to get mostly vertical, panting. He tried to call out, but his voice was faint, wavering. Cursing weakly, he tried to push himself forward, get his legs under him, crawl if he had to. Where the fuck was everyone? Fear for their fate gave him fresh impetus, and he slid to the floor, forcing himself past the drugs.
The move saved his life. The blast was enormous, blowing out the west wall of the office, and throwing the massive bookshelf there halfway across the room, striking the back of the heavy couch, and pushing it forward with abrupt and painful force. Books rained down upon Enzo, half stunning him, and in the aftermath, he could only lay there, now pressed up against Ren’s body in a macabre imitation of their lovemaking.
He could hear flames now, licking softly at first, then gaining force, heat swirling over him.
Even turning his head took an effort of mammoth proportions, and his gaze fell upon the half-open door, beckoning.
There was no more strength to be had. His fingers clenched upon Ren’s silk shirt as he felt the first lick of flame upon his body, biting back a silent scream.
He whispered a prayer of thankfulness as the drugs took him first, and he faded into darkness, his last thoughts of his lover and what they could have had.
Chase hummed as he drove, fingers keeping a beat on the steering wheel as his radio blared. The orientation had gone well, and the people he would share the class with seemed interesting and pleasant enough. He was eager to start and could not help but laugh at himself. Before, college had seemed like a fateful chore, destined to take him from Enzo. Now… Now it held the key to his future beside his lover, not a burden but a true partner.
He turned into the street that led toward home, frowning as he noticed the number of cars and people. Newspeople…
His heart began to pound in a strange irregular rhythm as he came up the last hill, out of the trees, and saw Tanglewood spread before him, smoke filling the sky.
Flames.
The villa, the vast buildings—engulfed.
He slammed to a stop in the middle of the street, unable to go further past emergency vehicles and people. Wrenching the car door open, ignoring the stares of the gawkers, he flew down the street, pushing his way past people, uncaring of their curses.
His breath was caught in his chest, tight and immovable, a sob rising to his throat.
Police guarded the entranceway at the great stone gates, and one turned, reaching out to grab Chase.
He ducked and rolled over the hood of the nearest police car, uncaring of the shouts behind him. His feet pounded the concrete driveway. He could feel the heat now, rolling toward him, the fire trucks and their crews seeming to make no impact upon the inferno.
Up ahead, seated dejectedly upon the lawn in the huge circular driveway, sat several of Enzo’s men, blackened with soot. Medics knelt before some, treating burns.