by Nora Phoenix
Noah’s mouth dropped. What the hell? One look at a fiercely blushing Josh and Noah knew every word had been true. “Holy fuck, are you serious?” he managed. “You like that?”
Josh straightened, his hand searching for Connor’s. “Every second of it.”
The pride in his voice was unmistakable. Indy had been right then when he’d guessed Josh was a sub. Noah couldn’t even imagine doing that. It had been one thing to order Josh to come, but doing what the cop had described? Way out of his league. But man, was he happy for Josh he’d found someone to share that with.
“You’re wearing a cock cage?”
As if he needed more proof of the dynamic between Connor and Josh, Josh looked to Connor before answering that question, clearly asking for permission. Wow. Just wow. Connor nodded, and Josh unbuttoned his fly and dropped his pants and boxers, revealing his cock all wrapped up in a sturdy contraption. A cock cage. He was wearing an honest-to-God cock cage.
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
Josh smiled. “It’s a constant pressure that gets a little worse when I get hard, but I love it. We bought it yesterday, and I’ve been wearing it since.”
Noah shivered. “You’d better get to it, then. I’ll put on headphones with some music so I won’t hear anything.”
“You can listen in,” Josh said. “Connor doesn’t mind, do you, baby?”
There was a teasing tone that made Noah smile, realizing Josh was intentionally revealing a bit more than Connor would’ve wanted.
“Joshua!”
Yup, you could’ve seen that one coming.
“Strike one.”
Noah bit back a laugh, realizing those two both wanted to get to strike three. Good for them.
“Yes, Connor.”
“Get your ass upstairs, right now. When I come up, you had better be butt naked, on your knees, waiting for me, you hear me?”
“Yes, Connor.”
With a last cheeky look at Noah, Josh dashed upstairs.
Connor cleared his throat. “You okay with this?”
“Yeah. I could say I’d kill you if you hurt him, but that would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it? I can tell it’s what he needs, so yeah, we’re good. Did you tell him I won’t need him anymore? I know Indy told you of my decision.”
“No. I wanted to ask you to not say anything. Josh has decided he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore.”
Understanding dawned instantly. “You want him to tell me instead of the other way around.”
“It would save him the feeling of being rejected and empower him in making his own decisions.”
“No problem. Go upstairs, Connor. He needs you, and I’ll be fine here. I’ll catch a nap.”
Connor nodded, put a water bottle within reach for Noah as well as his pain meds and his cell. “Text us if you need anything. We’ll come.”
Oh, too easy to resist. “I’m sure you will.”
Connor rolled his eyes more perfectly than any teenager could have ever done and disappeared upstairs. Noah whipped off his shirt and with grunts of pain, managed to remove his sweatpants as well, leaving him in his boxers. He settled in on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. He really needed a nap. Fuck, he was still so weak and tired. And lonely. His heart was aching for Indy. He’d promised he’d come, so where was he?
Indy had switched cars again, in Nashville this time. He always chose airports because the sheer volume of people there would make people less observant. As a result, they’d be less likely to remember him. Or her, as was the case. He’d rented the car as Laura Downey, same as in Virginia, but he’d changed his appearance again at the first rest stop along the Interstate. The blue contacts were the same, but he tied his hair up under a Nike cap so it looked short. He’d bought loose Nike pants, high tops, and a hoodie. It made him look like a teen boy—nothing like the sleek, sophisticated woman who had visited Beaufort, or the buxom blonde with Winters. Hopefully, Moloney would be expecting a woman, not a teen boy.
He drove straight to the restaurant where the PI had reported him working. That woman had been a godsend. Indy had emailed Houdini, asking for a referral to a PI who did fast and completely anonymous work, preferably located in the south. Houdini had recommended a PI by the name of Jeanette Baker who was based in Atlanta. Within 48 hours, she’d given Indy exactly what he needed to nail these assholes. It had cost him—or Connor, more accurately—but it had been worth every penny.
Bella’s Burgers was a classic southern diner, nothing special. Indy studied it from a safe distance. It had the old-fashioned railcar appearance, with shiny silver plates nailed against the exterior, rounded corners, a lighted sign, and that whole sixties-vibe. According to the handprinted signs in the windows, they sold the best shakes south of the Mason-Dixon line and the best burgers in Memphis. Good to know.
Two men walked up the street toward the diner, passing Indy’s car. They glanced inside his car at him but immediately looked away again. Indy’s eyes narrowed. Both had short buzz cuts, fit builds. They walked ramrod straight, in the same cadence. They screamed former military. Had Moloney asked army buddies of his for help?
Their quick dismissal of Indy told him that if they were Moloney’s friends, they were looking for a woman. In that aspect, his disguise had worked. But how would he get close to Moloney to deliver his message?
He could forget about it, go home. Winters would do the right thing for certain, and it would surprise him if Beaufort still aimed to go through with the appeal after Indy’s rather graphic warning. But if that was the case, why had he alerted Moloney? No, he wasn’t fully convinced, yet.
Or he had changed his mind after the immediate threat had passed. People tended to do that, once the shock and adrenaline wore off. They’d start to reason, argue with themselves. Giving up the appeal meant going back to prison, and Beaufort clearly wasn’t attracted to that concept. Maybe he was hoping Moloney would be able to grab this woman, and either threaten her until she’d give up, or maybe even kill her. After all, men who were capable of brutally raping another soldier would have no qualms about using force against a woman. To be fair, she’d threatened them with quite the amount of violence as well.
The more he mulled it over, the more Indy was convinced Beaufort and Moloney were on some foolish mission to get their way, which was to stay out of prison. He had to make it clear he meant business, without fully executing his threat, because then they’d have nothing more to fear and would have no reason to do his bidding anymore. It was like what he had experienced with Eric. His biggest fear had always been what Duncan would do to him, but once he’d lived through that, had survived it, it was no longer a threat. Now he feared what Duncan would do to those he loved—and he hoped he’d never have to live through that.
The two men had gone inside, but a few minutes later one of them came outside again. He stood on the front steps of the diner, scanning the street in both directions. Oh, yes, he was definitely on the lookout. Jeez, could he be any more obvious? Indy resisted the urge to duck. That would only make him look suspicious. I need a plan B.
The man went back inside, and seconds later, Indy saw him sit down at a booth that gave him a good view of the street. Only in one direction, though, unless he constantly craned his head to look behind him, and it wasn’t in Indy’s direction. He was watching the front entrance, but nothing else. But where was the other guy?
Two minutes later, he had his answer. Guy number two stepped outside and walked off in the opposite direction to where Indy was sitting. He, too, was extremely obvious in the fact that he was watching his environment. Not a casual stroll, then, and definitely not taking off. No, he was on patrol. Indy would have to wait and see what he was up to.
As soon as he’d rounded the corner, Indy got out of his car. There was a cell phone shop right behind where he’d parked, and he ducked in there. It wouldn’t be a strange place for a teen to be, he reasoned. While pretending to compare the two latest Samsung phones, he watched
the patrol guy round the corner and come up the street again. To his credit, the man was constantly observing everything around him, but he was looking for something that didn’t exist anymore. He kept on walking, apparently prepared to keep circling the block on foot.
Next to the diner was a small alley, with an Indian restaurant on the other side. It was almost dinnertime, and things were getting busy. Indy pursed his lips. He would have no trouble getting into that alley unseen, but how would he get inside the diner?
Maybe I don’t have to. All he needed was for Moloney to come outside. But how? He needed to get into that alley first, get closer.
He waited till patrol guy had passed for the second time, then casually exited the cell phone shop, crossed the street and walked into the alley. The guy inside the diner hadn’t even turned his head. Indy hurried through the alley until he had reached the end where it broadened. Both restaurants had large dumpsters there with trash bags sticking half out. Indy ducked behind the dumpster of the Indian restaurant, wanting to make sure he couldn’t be spotted from the street.
He looked at the back of the diner. It had no windows, but it did have a door, and the Indian restaurant was the same. That had to be an emergency exit, probably for the kitchen staff since the kitchen had to be located in the back. He checked the roofs, the walls, and anything else where a camera could be hidden but didn’t see anything. It seemed they weren’t monitoring the back.
An idea popped into his head and he smiled. Moloney would be in the kitchen, being a dishwasher. He clearly was expecting trouble to walk in through the front door, not the emergency exit in the back. Big mistake.
He waited till patrol guy had passed again, then pushed the trash containers as quietly as he could farther into the alley. He put three side by side so they were blocking the alley. Someone had thrown a stack of paper placemats in the diner’s dumpster—presumably because they were replaced with newer ones. Indy grabbed a lighter from his backpack—he was like a fucking boy scout, so prepared—and put it in his pocket. Now all he had to do was wait. If patrol guy was any good, he’d notice the dumpsters and would come investigate.
It took him three rounds before he noticed, but when he did, he walked straight into the alley. Indy was counting on him not warning the others before he knew there was something to be concerned about. Hopefully, the guy inside the diner hadn’t seen his friend enter the alley. Indy hid behind another dumpster, one he hadn’t needed. Footsteps crunched on the asphalt. When they were close, he quietly stepped out.
The guy had his back turned toward him, studying the dumpsters.
“Surprise,” Indy said.
The guy whipped around, but Indy was faster. He jumped up, hand and leg in perfect coordination. The guy was down on the ground before he could even utter a sound. A solid kick to your carotid artery would do that.
Indy dragged him away. Damn, that guy was heavier than he looked. He needed to be far away for the next phase of the plan. Behind the dumpsters was a shed on the Indian side, and he dumped the guy there, then tied his arms and legs with tie wraps. For good measure, he took off the guy’s steel-toed shoes since some brainiac had made a YouTube video about escaping from tie wraps using your shoelaces that had promptly gone viral. Indy wasn’t taken any chances.
He duct-taped the guy’s mouth, made sure his breathing was okay. He’d come around in a minute or so, but that was fine. He wouldn’t be going anywhere. Time for phase two.
Indy crumpled the paper placemats, spread them out on top of each of the three dumpsters. He got out his lighter and lit them, one by one. Within seconds, each of the dumpsters had a nice fire going. Now all he had to do was make one phone call. He grabbed his phone, dialed the number.
“Bella’s Burgers, how may I help you?”
“There’s a fire in the alley next to the diner. I’m across the street, and I can see it. You need to pull the fire alarm, now!”
The flames were starting to spread inside the dumpsters, and heat was developing quickly. The fire department better hurry the fuck up. Indy pulled back behind the diner, hid behind stacks and stacks of empty crates. Seconds later, an ear-splitting shrieking noise started. The back door burst open, and three men stumbled out. He recognized Moloney right away from the PI’s pictures.
“Damn it, someone set the dumpsters on fire,” one of the other two guys shouted. “We need to get a fire extinguisher.”
He and his colleague ran back inside, but Moloney hesitated long enough for Indy to spring into action. He jumped Moloney from behind, put a chokehold on him and brought him to the ground. He’d have seconds at most. Moloney was too stunned to respond, and Indy dragged him behind the crates. He put another chokehold on his neck, brought his mouth to the guy’s ear.
“If you try and fight me off, I will kill you right now.” He wouldn’t, of course, but the guy didn’t need to know that. Hell, he even had qualms about using this much violence, especially since he was using jiujitsu techniques that were meant to be defensive, not offensive. Still, he had to believe that in the bigger picture, both justice and karma would be on his side.
“What the fuck is wrong with you guys? Was the warning to Beaufort not clear?”
No southern drawl this time. Instead, he did his best imitation of a New York-Italian “Are-you-talking-to-me” accent. He held Moloney’s eyes away from his face as much as he could, didn’t want to give him more to possibly identify him on.
“Use words, asshole. I can’t read your fucking mind.”
“I’m sorry, okay? We thought…” Moloney stopped, probably reconsidering.
The two cooks were running outside again, both of them holding a fire extinguisher. He had three minutes, at most, before the fire trucks would show up. It would be enough.
“You thought you could jump whoever was coming to warn you off, maybe prevent this whole shit from going down? No such luck, asshole. Did Beaufort tell you what we threatened him with?”
Once again, Moloney waited too long with answering, so Indy casually tightened his hold, making him gasp for breath.
“He said…you’d rape us.”
Indy loosened his hold. As much as he wanted to punish the guy, he didn’t want to actually kill him. “Tenfold, dipshit. Remember that. You two lowlifes raped Gordon until he bled, and we will do that tenfold to you. You will never, ever want to have sex for the rest of your life, you feel me?”
Moloney’s answer was barely audible, but his frozen body told Indy the message had been received. “Yes.”
“Did Beaufort tell you about the pictures?”
“What pictures?” Good, he was learning fast.
“Of Beaufort with his male whores. The guy is a bonafide faggot in case you missed it. Wanna know what we have on you?”
“No. Yes.”
Indy smiled. “Pretty sure your wife doesn’t know about your son, does she? The one with that blond tramp from Nashville? And the blond tramp doesn’t know about the wife, now does she? Also, you told them both you went to prison for theft, not rape.”
“Fuck, please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You will withdraw the appeal, or I swear to God, we will fuck up your life first, and then come after you. You’ve seen how easy it is for us to get to you. By the time we’re done, you’ll dream of being back in prison. Tell me you understand me.”
“I promise. God, please, I’ll do what you say.”
A sour smell permeated the air, and Indy crinkled his nose. What the fuck is that? He looked down. Holy fuck, Moloney had pissed himself. Revenge wasn’t sweet at all. It smelled like dirty urine.
“You have 24 hours. If I call the Army JAG Corps tomorrow and you haven’t withdrawn the appeal, your life is over, do you feel me?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Indy said, then tightened his hold until the guy passed out.
In the distance, sirens announced the impending arrival of the fire department. Time to get the fuck out of there. He peered around the crates. Bo
th cooks were still busy putting out the flames, getting help from their Indian counterparts. Good.
Indy got up, eyeballed the wall next to him, then jumped up and hoisted himself over. It was the back side of a coffee shop of some sorts, and he casually strolled through the connecting alley to the front. The guy who had been watching the street from the diner stood at the entrance to the alley between the diner and the Indian restaurant, clearly agitated because he couldn’t get to the back. He had his phone to his ear, was probably trying to call one or both of his friends.
Good luck with that. Indy slipped out into the street. He circled the block till he got back to his car. By now the fire department was arriving, two big trucks parking in front of the diner. He waited till the trucks had passed him, then drove off without a care in the world.
Three down.
17
Josh's heart broke for Noah. The day after Noah had come home, Indy still hadn’t shown up. Josh didn’t even want to consider the unthinkable, that Indy had decided not to come back. He’ll come back. He has to. He loves Noah too much. And he knows how much we love him.
Josh's chest constricted, and he pressed a fist against his heart. It felt egocentric, but he missed Indy, too. Horribly, if he was honest. He missed his sweet presence, Indy shadowing him when he was cooking, or the two of them cuddling on the couch. Without him, Josh felt incomplete somehow, like a part of him was missing.
What if Indy never…Fuck, no, stop it. Don’t let yourself go there. Indy will come back.
His phone dinged, mercifully yanking him out of his thoughts. Noah needed him upstairs. Connor had gone to his apartment to pick up more clothes and personal stuff, leaving Josh to take care of Noah. He’d been an easy patient so far, mostly sleeping and resting.
Connor had brought his TV over earlier so Noah would have something to watch and installed it in the guest bedroom where Noah had taken up residence. Noah had indicated Josh would be better off in the master bedroom, which was true since Josh slept better there. Anything unfamiliar threw him off his routine.