Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08]

by Killer Thoughts

  He knew it was only a matter of time before Kerr attacked or Owen had to leave to address concerns in the financial world he’d been holding off. It felt surreal, being here with people who liked him. Even the Knoxes had thawed toward him, especially once Ian had given Reuben a few hints about how to woo Dolly from things he’d overheard her say. From the big smile on the guy’s face this morning and Dolly’s blush anytime she looked his way, Ian thought Reuben might have gotten lucky last night.

  Too bad Joe moved like a snail around Tim. To Ian and Owen’s surprise, Tim was shy when it came to dating. If Joe didn’t make a move, nothing would happen. But instead of letting Ian give Joe a few pointers, Owen had advised him to let them be. Reuben didn’t see Ian as a threat with Dolly. Joe might not take the advice so well. A smart suggestion, considering Ian would belt Joe in the mouth if he thought about telling Owen how to handle him.

  “Ian, could you come here for a minute?”

  He waved at Bev and grabbed half a sandwich. “Hold on, oh lord and master.” He’d been having a grand time at Owen’s expense, and Owen allowed him the jeers. Only because Ian performed so well in bed as his slave, according to Owen. The big tease. “Where are you?”

  “East wing,” sounded through the intercom on the wall.

  The place had enough space that sometimes Ian turned in the wrong direction. He moved down the hallway toward the glass-enclosed sunroom and stopped. The door before the sunroom was open, and Owen stood inside.

  “What do you think?” Owen asked.

  Ian stepped cautiously into the room. “About what?” He saw a table and an easel, brushes, paints, and a few pieces of Owen’s more expensive art on the walls that hadn’t been there yesterday.

  “This. Your office.”

  “My office?” Ian gaped as he moved around. The sun was just setting outside, and the picturesque view he had of the mountains was to-die-for amazing.

  “Well, not office exactly. There’s a computer desk I ordered, and the computer hasn’t come in yet. But I was thinking it could be a studio, you know. You like to paint, right?”

  Owen had his hands in his pockets and seemed a bit tense. Ian didn’t know what to say. This seemed like a lot of trouble to go through for a few weeks’ stay. But the light in here couldn’t have been better. He had the sudden urge to create.

  “You like it?” Owen asked again, frowning. “Because I could arrange something else. I just thought the light looked pretty good in here, and—”

  “I love it!” Ian let himself be dramatic and spun around with his arms wide, laughing. He noticed the tension leave Owen’s broad shoulders, and a gorgeous smile lit his face. “Just think of all the great paintings I can reproduce! I’ll be a millionaire, like you, in no time.”

  Owen shook his head. “Ian…”

  “Oh relax. Don’t get your panties in a twist, sunshine. I’m teasing. I think I might try my hand at landscapes, since I have such a terrific view.”

  “Maybe you could do one.” The pregnant pause sounded overly loud to Ian. “For our bedroom.”

  “Really?” Our bedroom? “You’d want to hang something of mine in there?”

  “An original, yes. Nothing copied.” Owen scowled. “And you need to tell Mannie Frankton that you’re withdrawing the Whistler he commissioned. That sucker’s mine.”

  “Wait. What?” How had Owen found out about that? Ian had mentioned the etching he might copy a week ago to Mannie, his black-market contact. But now, the way he and Owen had been getting along, he wanted to keep their interaction private. He wouldn’t feel right selling anything to Mannie, not behind Owen’s back, at least.

  “You have your sources. I have mine.” Owen winked at him, kissed him on the cheek, and sauntered out.

  Had to be Tim. Ian shook his head, moved by Owen’s generosity. Our bedroom. Jesus.

  It was getting harder to remind himself that Owen had been nice because of Kerr. Once that situation was remedied, he’d need to get back home to his things. His house. A place that meant a lot less to him, the more time he spent with his boyfriend.

  Ian warmed. He had a boyfriend. Maybe he and Owen could continue once this ended. They wouldn’t be as tight, of course, but hell, Owen had trusted him with personal secrets he didn’t share with anyone else. He liked Ian as a person. They could at least remain friends.

  Thoughts of the future without Owen depressed him, so Ian focused on his new studio. He didn’t like the paint color in here, so he decided he’d go with a creamy blue. No, green, a subtle jade over one wall to match Owen’s eyes… Better yet, a mural.

  He might not be staying forever, but he’d sure as hell give Owen something to remember when he was gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Owen knew the time would come when he and Ian would have to rejoin the real world again. Their week together had been ideal, and he’d been allowed to see the charming soul buried beneath the joking con man. Bev and Dolly had already given their subtle seals of approval.

  Reuben had hinted at expanding the outdoor space to include a private spa, since Ian had mentioned how much he liked to soak in the indoor one. Even Joe seemed to have thawed toward Owen’s little thief. Tim thought Ian walked on water. Instead of wanting a transfer after keeping an eye on him for a few days, Tim insisted on making sure of Ian’s continued safety.

  If not for the man’s less than subtle interest in Joe, Owen might have been jealous. It was as if Ian had brought life and love into his house. Reuben and Dolly were openly dating. Joe kept inching closer to Tim. And Bev cooked like a dream while testing recipes for her upcoming cookbook, eagerly awaiting the changes to the place she could see coming. Though she’d never met any of his past dates, she’d told Owen Ian was her favorite by far. Charming, handsome, and he had the good taste to fall in love with Owen.

  If only. Owen knew Ian felt more for him than lust. But how much more? He wanted badly to press Ian to stay, but he still worried about scaring the man away.

  And then there was Kerr to take care of.

  “Boss, you need to hear this,” Tim said quietly from just behind him.

  Owen turned and followed Tim to his office, where Joe stood with an angry expression. Caleb stood with him, having apparently returned a day early.

  “Caleb.”

  “Owen. Wish I’d brought better news.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, so that it stood on end.

  “I did some digging. You’re not going to like this.”

  “Hell. Tell me.”

  Caleb propped his hip against Owen’s desk. “Rumor has it Kerr put a hit on the admiral’s favorite cleanup specialist.” Meaning a hit on the Fixer.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish. But that means somehow an identity got blown.”

  They’d face that later. “Who’s got the hit?”

  Caleb shook his head. “Mickelson.”

  He snorted. “Ronald Mickelson?”

  Tim and Joe followed the conversation like spectators at a tennis match.

  “Who’s Mickelson? And who’s been targeted?” Joe asked. “I’m assuming you, Owen.”

  “Yeah, me. Targeted by a nut job who thinks he’s psychic.” He laughed, but when Caleb refused to join in, he sobered. “Tell me the rest.”

  “Well, the thing is, Mickelson went off the rails a while ago. He had no talent to speak of. Could barely squeeze a trigger. But then the PWP got their hands on him because he had a friend in a high place. Next thing you know, Mickelson’s a rogue pyro.”

  “Hold on.” Tim frowned. “You told us about the PWP. But are you saying this Mickelson character is after Owen, and he can control fire? Is that what you mean by pyro?”

  Caleb nodded.

  “So we take him out quick.” Joe made a gun with his hand and wiggled his thumb. “Bang.”

  “A great idea, if we could find him. But Kerr is deep, and we have no idea where he’s hiding. Owen, I’m worried that if we let this stand, Kerr is going to drag this
out for weeks, months. Hell, years. He wants to worry you, and having you fret about your sister and everyone here all the time is gonna wear thin. You need to take him out. Not wait.”

  To Owen’s surprise, Tim agreed. “Yes, sir. He’s right. Take the offensive.”

  Owen hadn’t wanted to share this yet. “I would, but a few days ago, he sent me an e-mail. He says if I even think about coming after him until he’s ready, he’ll start randomly killing people in town. Folks I might or might not know.”

  “You mean shoot up Bend’s residents?” Joe asked, incredulous.

  “Yes.” Owen sighed. “He’s a psychopath. He doesn’t care who he hurts as long as he’s happy.”

  “So throw down the gauntlet and kill the fucker,” Caleb insisted.

  “There’s a better way to ensure Kerr goes along with your plan,” Tim offered quietly.

  Everyone turned to watch him.

  “Give him something of yours, something valuable. Let him think he has the upper hand. Then take him down.”

  “Something valuable?”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Oh, right. Yeah, Owen. Someone you care about. That’s actually a solid plan.”

  Owen shook his head. “I’d never knowingly give a friend of mine to Kerr. And certainly not Heather or…oh hell, no.” Ian. So that’s who Tim had meant. Funny, because Owen had thought better of him.

  “Don’t look at me like that, sir,” Tim protested. “It was Ian’s idea, and a good one.”

  “What?”

  Ian, naturally, had to stick his head in at that moment. “Problem?”

  Owen glared at him with such violence, Ian took a step back. “You. Come with me.”

  “Oh hell. Take five, guys,” Caleb said with a groan.

  Owen dragged Ian with him down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. He needed privacy for this. After slamming the door behind them both and locking it, he turned to Ian. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

  “Since I’m not sure what you’re talking about, you’ll have to be more specific. Because whenever I’m in here with you, I’m normally thinking about fucking.”

  It took a lot to make Owen lose his temper, but thoughts of his precious thief in Kerr’s clutches made him see red.

  “Owen, relax, man.” Ian took another step back, and Owen pounced. He dragged Ian to him and kissed him with anger and passion, too confused to know which made more sense. Hunger overwhelmed him, as did fear.

  He drew back, panting. “You will not put yourself in harm’s way with Kerr. Promise me. He’ll kill you, Ian.”

  Ian moaned and slaked his mouth back over Owen’s. “But it’ll help you get rid of him.”

  “Not at your expense.” Owen needed to have him, to stake his claim. Spiraling out of control, he pushed Ian face-first against the door and yanked the man’s jeans open, then dragged them down his thighs. Unable to stop, he freed himself from his pants and spit on his hand, then rubbed his dick. “I can’t wait.”

  “Oh shit. You are so hot when you’re like this,” Ian moaned.

  Owen did his best to get slick, but he knew the taking would be rough. And he needed Ian to feel it. To feel him. Spitting some more, he lubed himself as best he was able and put his dick between Ian’s cheeks. He pushed, harder when Ian’s body resisted.

  “Does it hurt? Do you like this pain?” he rasped, turned on by the primitive possession yet hating himself for doing this. “Do you know how bad Kerr will hurt you?”

  “Fuck, Owen. Don’t stop. That is so good. Oh, it burns.” Ian moaned and rocked back against him, and then Owen was fucking him without cease.

  Climbing higher toward climax, fulfilling his own desire and to hell with Ian’s. But he couldn’t stop himself. He hammered harder in Ian’s tight ass and reached around to find his lover hard and hot and dripping wet.

  “You little slut.”

  “Oh God. Please. Yes, Owen. Yes.”

  Ian hissed as he came all over Owen’s hand, and Owen couldn’t stop. He made Ian beg him for more while he climaxed on a groan.

  The orgasm relieved and enraged him, because he hadn’t solved a fucking thing by acting like a possessive asshole. They stood there, Owen buried to the hilt in his lover while Ian gasped underneath him, pressed to the door.

  Owen hated to confess the truth like this, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I love you, Ian. No way in hell I’m going to let Kerr take you from me.” Still buried in his ass, he felt his lover tense and groaned at the gloving sensation still around his cock. “You mean too much to me.”

  Ian swore. “Hell. You had to go and say it, didn’t you?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “The truth is… Fuck. You don’t know the half of it.”

  Ian squirmed beneath him, but if anything, his actions aroused Owen anew.

  “Stop moving,” Owen warned. “I could too easily go again.”

  “What are you, inhuman?” Ian rasped. “Fine. I’ll say it just like this, with your rod buried up my ass.”

  Ian wiggled again, and Owen clamped his hands on his waist to hold him still.

  “I’ve been trying to deny it, but you caught me. I don’t want to leave. I like the room you gave me. I like Bev and Dolly and even Tim. I think this house is wonderful, but it’s the tight group that gives it that down-home charm. Tacky but true. And you’re such an asshole.”

  “Me?” Owen blinked at the dark head facing the wall, aware Ian refused to look at him. He also remained semihard inside him, unwilling to let go.

  “You made me fall in love with you, okay? And now I can’t steal from you or try to rob you, because it feels wrong. And that sucks, because that’s what I do. So you say you trust me.”

  “Oh, little thief, I do.” Owen felt tears burning behind his eyes, and he kissed Ian’s neck, so fucking happy to feel his boy trembling. This wasn’t some joke or a way to manipulate him. Not this. “You mean so much to me.”

  “Then prove it.”

  Ian gripped him tight again, clenching his ass.

  “Let me target him for you. I’ll sucker him in, con him into taking me. Then you find me and take him out. I know you can do it, Owen. Let me do this for you. If we’re going to be partners, you have to let me in.”

  Owen groaned and hugged Ian tighter. He started moving again, needing to fill his lover with himself all over again. “Ian, I can’t lose you. I just can’t.”

  “You won’t. Trust me, baby.” Ian paused. “Trust me the way I trust you.”

  After a moment, Owen caved. “You little shit. Fine.”

  Ian’s laugh turned into a groan as Owen reached for him again.

  “But first you owe me another orgasm. I want it all over the door this time. And you are in for a world of hurt if this goes south. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Owen swore when his cock hardened even more. “You owe me for this.”

  “I owe you everything, Owen. Because I’m yours.”

  “Yes, you are.” And then no more words were spoken, and the love flowed as free as their passion.

  * * * *

  “You do realize this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, right?” Jack asked as he stood with Owen and Caleb in a swanky penthouse in Portland. Except Jack wasn’t Jack, exactly. He looked like the spitting image of Heather, right down to the Stallbridge green eyes. Even the voice sounded the same. It was uncanny, and not a little bit freaky. And especially weird that only Owen knew Heather wasn’t Heather.

  Jack/Heather continued, “I mean, I understand you wanting to kill Ian. But there are easier ways to do it than inviting Kerr into your bedroom.”

  Owen glared at her—him. Hell. He did his best to keep Jack’s cover, because they all knew the penthouse had been bugged. That, and Jack didn’t tell just anyone that he could shift shapes. Talk about weird even on the psychic scale. “Just because you’re my sister doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. In ways you can’t imagine.”

  Caleb chuckled at the da
rk look Jack/Heather gave him. “He’s serious, honey. You have no idea what my boy can do.”

  “Your boy is a real Fixer. Yeah, I know,” Jack/Heather said smoothly. With a good deal of respect too.

  “Damn. Who the hell doesn’t know who you are?” Caleb bitched.

  “Relax. It’s my job to know things.”

  At Caleb’s surprised look, Jack/Heather smoothly amended, “Though my big brother doesn’t think I know what he’s done for our country, I do, and I’ve never told anyone.” Meaning Jack knew, but he’d never told Heather.

  They stared at each other in silence before Caleb broke the tension. “If you two are gonna kiss and cry, could you do it now? I have things to do.”

  “Fuck off, Caleb,” Owen said.

  Jack/Heather snorted. “Oh, and by the way, I’m supposed to tell you that Gavin isn’t happy you’re in town, but his boyfriend said to say thanks. And be glad that one is on your side, ’cause he scrambles brains like Bev scrambles eggs.”

  Good old Aiden Marshall.

  “Nice to know.” Caleb grinned. “So is your boyfriend’s special team here to help? DC is pretty impressed. The last two jobs his guys worked went off without a hitch.”

  Jack/Heather nodded. Owen knew Jack had begun doing select work he chose for the government, working closely with Admiral London, a man Owen greatly admired. “Yeah, well, as long as Lonnie is involved, Jack says he’s in. He’s the only government guy my wonderful fiancé will work for. Him or Alicia.” Admiral London’s wife, a woman not quite human.

  Owen knew a lot about things he wasn’t cleared to know, and he had no plans on sharing. Though he trusted Caleb, the less Caleb knew about certain things, the better off he’d be. Owen and Jack shared the same thought, apparently, for Heather/Jack’s lips quirked in a grin.

  Owen nodded. “Good old Alicia.”

  Caleb frowned. “Isn’t she—”

  Owen cut him off. “Could we please focus on the fact that my boyfriend is currently sitting on an island off the coast with Carl Kerr, who could be doing any manner of things to him?” “While a dozen men are infiltrating the penthouse as we speak? To include a crazy pyrokinetic, I might add?” he added telepathically.