Guns n' Boys: Swamp Blood (Book 3) (gay dark mafia erotic romance)

by K. A. Merikan

  “I’ve had this one guy a few times, and we’d fuck for like, five minutes, and then he’d complain about his boyfriend for the rest of the time we were together. And I wasn’t even the only guy he cheated on his boyfriend with.”

  Domenico stilled and looked back at Mark, unsure how that example made him feel. Seth wasn’t a cheater. “He went shopping.”

  And then fucking Dana chipped in, as if it were any of her business. “You don’t technically know that.”

  Domenico frowned at her. “Why wouldn’t I believe him?” he asked, even though now that the seed of Seth possibly lying had been planted, the roots were quickly growing all over Domenico’s heart.

  “Sorry,” Dana said, but there was no apology in her voice.

  “I probably wouldn’t cheat if I had a stud like Domenico at home.” Mark gave Dom a dreamy smile.

  Domenico scowled at him and pulled himself up. “I’m gonna call him. I want some juice,” he added when he noticed a twitch of Dana’s lips as he walked past her. The inside of the house seemed dark after spending time outside, but he easily navigated his way all the way to the bedroom and picked up the cell phone he had left on top of the bed. Seth should be in the town center right now, because he’d go to the nearest supermarket, not to the Walmart half an hour away. Dom dialed the number and put the phone against his ear.

  He waited while it rang, and all he got was voicemail. He dialed again and then waited for several minutes in the hope that Seth would call him back. It didn’t happen.

  Domenico bit his lip and looked at the little bedroom. Their few possessions were neatly stacked in the open wardrobe and the drawer where Seth stored all the underwear Dom didn’t get to see much anymore. Could it be that he’d met someone, and that was the reason behind him being so disinterested in sex?

  Dom didn’t want to think about it, but the idea had been planted, and it was screaming at him louder with each breath he took.

  “Dana? I’ll go into town. I’ll be back soon,” he said, picking up his gun from one of the drawers.

  “Are you getting the juice? Is Seth not answering? Can I come? I wanted some Cheetos, too!” Mark yelled from the backyard, and Domenico thumped his head against the wall.

  “As long as you shut up,” he growled and stormed outside, heading for the pickup, which seemed a much brighter red than before, especially against Dana’s banana yellow Chevy.

  “Yay!” Mark was on his feet seconds later, putting on a T-shirt on the way and stinking of teenage sweat.

  “Buy yourself some Old Spice, or something,” muttered Domenico, opening the windows as they both settled in their seats.

  Mark made a sad face at him. “I don’t have money for unnecessary stuff.”

  Domenico started the car and opened his wallet with his teeth. “I’ll give you some pocket money. You can’t be dirty while you live with us.”

  Mark’s lips parted in a wide grin, and Dom was sure his words were all Mark had waited for. The kid’s manipulation skills weren’t very stealthy. “Thanks. I’ll wash twice a day.”

  “Do that.” Domenico reached into his wallet and handed Mark a few bills, more than the kid had probably held in a long time. Domenico would make sure to watch what he’d do with the money. For the moment, Mark greedily tucked the bills into his pocket.

  “If you and Seth ever broke up, I’d be there for you, you know?” Mark said as if they’d known each other for more than a day.

  “You’re creepy.” Domenico pressed on the gas and rushed toward the town center. Where the fuck would Seth be? Come to think of it, his solitary shopping expeditions were usually quite long. And he’d come back tired. What if Dana and Mark were right? What if?

  When they reached the small supermarket in town, Domenico smiled at the motorbike parked in front of it, only to realize it wasn’t Seth’s. Similar, but not the same one. Seth wasn’t here. God only knew where he could be.

  When they drove out of the parking lot without stopping, Mark spoke.

  “Um… Weren’t we supposed to buy shit?”

  Domenico turned to look at him and squeezed his hands on the wheel. “He’s not there. We’ll find him first, and then you can go wherever the fuck you want!”

  Mark leaned back in the seat. “Jeez. It’s not like he’d vanish. Maybe he went to another store.”

  “Then look for his bike. You have a pair of healthy eyes, I assume. Earn your fucking keep.” Domenico breathed in a big gulp of air and drove toward a small general goods store two blocks away.

  Mark looked at him with a stupid grin and new recognition in his eyes. “I get it! You do think he could be cheating. Oh, my God! This is so exciting. It’s like this TV show when they find people with lovers. I always wanted to be, like, a detective. Drive around with a spy camera and that kind of shit.”

  “No, I don’t think he’s cheating. I’m just worried where he is, you fucking moron! This isn’t a game!” Domenico took a sharp turn next to the local museum, which consisted of a single room in someone’s spare space. A woman stepped away from the street and called after the car, but Dom ignored it and drove on, leaning forward over the steering wheel. His eyes were scanning both sides of the road, filtering every man and motorbike around.

  “There it is!” Mark yelped and pointed ahead, where Seth’s sport bike was parked next to a few Harleys.

  Domenico frowned as they passed the large compound that housed the local gym, among other things. It was Seth’s bike. What the fuck was he doing there of all places?

  Domenico drove too far, but with the street as empty as it was, he made a U-turn a few yards down the road, at the cost of grazing the pavement with an unpleasant screech of the tires, and rushed straight into the parking lot.

  Mark held on to his seat belt and only unbuckled it once Domenico stopped the car. “Maybe he’s buying Dana’s protein,” he suggested.

  Domenico froze and looked at him, noticing how shallow his breath was, even though he’d had his ass in the seat for the last five minutes. “Maybe,” he muttered and slid out of the car. “Let’s check if he’s choosing the right one.”

  Domenico didn’t have to see Mark to know he followed him out of the car, but it was something else that made his blood boil.

  Seth was there.

  Domenico could see him through the big front windows of the gym, stretched on a bench and lifting a barbell while a big tattooed guy with a black ponytail spotted him.

  Domenico’s smile faltered, and he rushed to the door, not wanting Seth to notice him. The powerful pulsing he sensed earlier in his veins was now spreading around his throat, like an ever-tightening noose. He walked past the door and then past the reception desk, straight for the halfway open door that should lead to the weight room. He peeked inside the small space decorated with spots made with dirty hands on the back wall.

  Seth’s right hand trembled while the left one remained steady, but he still managed to lift the fucking barbell. The spotter looked even more handsome from up close. His hair was gathered into a barely-long-enough-to-tie ponytail, and his stubble gave him the kind of rugged good looks that made him oddly similar to Seth himself. His thick arms were covered with tattoos that didn’t look like fancy artwork but ink found in gangs and prisons. Domenico found them appalling, and just watching the ugly, faded drawings near his lover’s skin nauseated him.

  The spotter’s smile, on the other hand, was friendly when he helped Seth put the weight away once Seth was done. “Good. You keep getting better. Your hand has a better grip now, doesn’t it?”

  Domenico slowly exhaled a bit of air, but then someone touched his shoulder, and he barely kept himself from punching them back. It was a young woman, dressed in a simple shirt with the logo that he’d seen outside, drawn on the side of the building.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  Domenico lowered his eyes. “No. I want to assess it all on my own.”

  Seth, the bastard, smiled back at the spotter, all red faced and with a
sweaty patch at the front of his shirt. “Yes, I can’t wait to lift more.”

  The spotter laughed. “That’s such a good attitude.”

  Domenico growled, staring at that beautiful body stretched out on the bench as Seth clearly flirted with the handsome stranger when all the attention he was giving Domenico was meager scraps. It all made more sense now. Did Seth start despising Domenico because he now knew they weren’t blood brothers, and it had been the taboo aspect of their relationship that had turned him on? Or was it just disappointment? Domenico let Seth get hurt. He hadn’t been able to stop Vincente from torturing him, even though he had promised. He had failed Seth.

  But that didn’t explain Seth going behind Domenico’s back.

  Dom opened the door and walked into the weight room, completely breathless. All he could hear was Seth’s soft laugh tickling his inner ear.

  “I’m far from your level,” Seth said in that lovely Sicilian accent Dom now wanted to choke out of him.

  The trainer laughed. “Maybe you need to come more often then.”

  Domenico grabbed the empty steel rod from a stand and walked straight through the room, which was empty at this time of day. But even if there were men training all around Seth, Dom would not wait. This could not wait.

  “Fuck off him,” he growled, walking straight at the spotter, whose gray eyes narrowed when he noticed Domenico.

  “I don’t know you. Is there a problem?”

  “Since when has this been going on?”

  Seth looked up at him like a deer in the headlights, and sat up so fast he hit his head on the barbell and fell back on the bench. “Dom? What? What are you doing here?” He rubbed his forehead and rolled off to sit on the edge of the bench. “Are you following me?”

  Domenico put the bar on his shoulders, and the cool metal felt so pleasant on his heated nape, he’d be grateful for it if it wasn’t for what he just discovered. His heart seemed to grow in his chest, pushing at his lungs and not letting him breathe anymore. It was about to burst like an overgrown soap bubble. “Are you buying Nutella?”

  The spotter stepped closer. “Hey, what is this about?”

  Seth pursed his lips and got up. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He put his hand on the spotter’s shoulder. He actually put his hand on the fucker.

  Domenico pulled the bar off his shoulder and put one end at the center of the spotter’s chest, pushing him back so hard the guy grabbed himself there and backed away, sinking lower and staring at Domenico, as if he just now recognized that he wasn’t dealing with a random crazy.

  “Since when has this been going on?” repeated Domenico, staring straight into Seth’s big brown lying eyes.

  Seth stood between him and the spotter. “This is none of your business. It’s private.”

  Domenico took a shallow breath, keeping Seth’s gaze as heat rose in his brain, scrambling it while Dom was still alive. “You lying piece of shit. You’re cheating on me?”

  The spotter blinked and stepped back.

  Seth frowned at him and pushed the bar away as if he was asking for Dom to use the piece of steel. “Are you out of your mind? Who gives you the right to stalk me?”

  Domenico knocked him aside and swung the bar toward the spotter. The guy had good enough reflexes to dodge, but Dom already knew the man would move and sharply kicked him straight in the unprotected ribs.

  The spotter hissed and fell back on the empty bench, rolling away just in time to evade the bar smashing into the floor where the guy’s leg had been a second ago. “What the fuck? I’m just his personal trainer!” he yelled loud enough to create an echo in the weight room.

  “Dom! No!” Seth yelled at him, and grabbed the steel rod in Dom’s hand. He was actually going as far as protecting the motherfucker instead of answering his goddamn questions. Dom could bet Seth was fucking the guy. No wonder he had no energy for his fiancé at home.

  Domenico pushed on the rod, hitting Seth just hard enough to put him out of breath. The stinging in his eyes was rapidly becoming stronger, as if someone had blown chili powder on his eyeballs. “You fucking liar! This explains every. Fucking. Thing,” hissed Domenico, charging at the trainer, who ducked behind the barbell Seth had used moments ago. Steel met with a power that sent the screeching sound all over the place, attacking Dom’s ears and making him even deafer to the world. All he could see was the deception in Seth’s pretty eyes when he said I’m still in pain, Dom. He imagined those big tattooed hands all over Seth as the guy fucked Dom’s fiancé in the locker room.

  “Stop it,” Seth yelled at him. “We’re supposed to be lying low!” he added in Italian and grabbed Dom from behind, pulling him back.

  Domenico hit him with his elbow, fueled by a fury greater than his body could contain. “I’m gonna rip your heart out!” he screamed, turning back to Seth. He grabbed the front of Seth’s wet shirt and pulled, wanting to look him straight in the eye.

  Seth held on to his own ribs with a gasp. “He’s not even gay, Dom! You had no right to come after me!” He didn’t shy away with his gaze, scowling at Dom. At least Dom felt there was honest feeling still left in the fucker.

  Dom could hardly speak loud enough with emotion bubbling up in his chest like a tidal wave. “You keep lying to me, you fucker. I’d do anything for you, and that’s how you pay me back? You won’t let me touch you for three fucking months, and somehow you lift weights?”

  That shut Seth up. He made this hurt, tender face, as if he were made of glass, but Dom was not about to treat him like porcelain anymore, since he was clearly fine. Seth opened his lips seconds later, but then yelped and pulled Dom forward so hard they toppled over.

  Domenico stopped breathing and pushed away the metal bar, just in time to have his hands free to prop himself over Seth. The clang of falling steel rang in his ears, but the swish behind him became even more prominent in Dom’s mind as the moving air touched his skin. He rolled off Seth and jumped forward, grabbing the trainer’s waist and throwing him over, along with the metal baseball bat the bastard held in his hand. He swung it toward Dom, his eyes wide with fury, but Domenico grabbed his forearm and bludgeoned the guy’s face with his elbow. It wouldn’t be so handsome anymore.

  There was a blunt sound when the trainer’s head met the floor, but Domenico had more to deal with, as another person ran into the room.

  “Get off my brother if you want to live!” yelled someone, and Dom could vaguely recognize the voice. “You motherfucker! How dare you show your hairy face here?” screamed the guy, putting Dom on high alert over Seth’s safety.

  “We were leaving!” Seth answered and pulled on the back of Dom’s tank top.

  Domenico gritted his teeth and looked back at him through the curtain of his unruly hair. “Are we? You fucking okay to talk now?” he growled, getting up from the trainer whom he had apparently knocked out. That hadn’t been the plan, but Dom wasn’t sorry.

  Seth bared his teeth. “I’m not doing this here!”

  “You stole my phone, you little fucker!” Dom looked over Seth’s shoulder and recognized the blond prick from yesterday, pulling at Mark’s arm. Dom hadn’t even known the kid had followed him inside.

  The chaos only amplified when Mark started squealing that he didn’t know anything about a phone. Seth crouched down next to Domenico, his face going from red to ghastly pale. “Did you kill him?” he asked, but Dom didn’t have the time to get agitated as the blond biker heard that. He let go of Mark, pushing the boy away so abruptly he fell to the floor.

  “Ryder?” The blond rushed their way. “Ryder! Talk to me, you fucker!”

  In the background, Mark scrambled off the floor and ran out of the gym like the chickenshit he was. Domenico hissed after him, but the moment he saw a glint of steel, he pushed Seth back and dove toward the biker, just in time to knock a gun out of his hand with a strategic hit. It clattered against the floor, and Domenico punched the biker under the nose, sending him to the floor.

  “You were c
heating on him just last night, so shut up, you fucking child molester!” he growled, picking up the fallen gun. He pulled the safety off and pressed the barrel against the biker’s forehead. “Don’t move, bitch,” hissed Domenico, staring into the pale blue eyes.

  Seth sat on the floor, gasping for air, but what Dom saw in the corner of his eye truly shocked him. Just behind the window, Mark drove off in their pickup. He couldn’t believe this shit.

  The blond biker stilled with his gaze flying between Domenico and the unconscious trainer. “Who the fuck are you? You said you weren’t from here. You were supposed to leave.” He was heaving. “Ryder?” he asked the unresponsive trainer again, more desperately.

  Domenico looked at the bulky body, which was slowly stirring back to life, and then glanced straight into the biker’s eyes. “If I wanted to kill him, I would have. Don’t be such a drama queen on me, because it’s fucking pissing me off.”

  Ryder groaned and put his hand over the place where Dom had hit him. He rolled to his side and slowly opened his eyes. It took him two seconds to realize something was off, as he suddenly rolled back and tried to rise to his knees, only to fall to the floor. “Fuck... Jed...”

  Seth slowly got up, looking around the gym with panic painted all over his face.

  Jed looked at Seth, probably sensing he’d be easier to approach. His breath was shallow, his cheeks red, as he spoke without ever moving his head away from the barrel of the gun. “This can all go away. Just tell him to put the gun down. Unless you two have a fucking death wish.”

  Domenico laughed. He was a panther taking out two dogs. They had no idea how out of their league they were. Only now, being in this fucked-up standoff, he realized just how much he’d missed the adrenaline rush. “You really think you can scare me, boy?”

  Jed squinted at him and hissed, despite the barrel against his forehead. “Try me. You gonna kill two people in the middle of town at noon?” He laughed, and there was a hint of crazy to it that Dom needed to watch out for. “Even if you do kill me, you’d be dead men walking wherever you go. The Coffin Nails pay their debts.”