by SE Jakes
Marcus hung up and ran his hands through his hair. If Cole really wanted to leave, there wasn’t a lot he could do to stop it from happening…but Marcus had to impress upon Cole the life-threatening aspect of stalking.
Again.
And maybe get the stick out of his ass.
Maybe.
Chapter Nine
Paolo
Paolo heard Law’s cell phone ring in the kitchen. He was in the living room, trying to give Law a wide berth, since Law had been in a fucking terrible mood since they’d come home from Marcus’s place. He’d been muttering and pacing, and Styx had simply watched him as well.
Now, Styx came into the living room and said, “That’s Marcus calling him.”
“Things okay?”
“I think Cole told Marcus about his past,” Styx said.
Neither Styx nor Law had mentioned what Cole’s past was, but Paolo had a feeling he knew. Both men had horrible childhoods, and they seemed to pull in the same kind of lost boys they’d once been. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it threw off Law’s equilibrium something fierce.
By the time Law was hanging up with Marcus, Paolo and Styx had gone into the kitchen to be with him.
Law looked up at them, the laptop in front of him. “What’s up?”
“Figured maybe it’s time for bed,” Styx said.
Law shook his head. “Too much shit to do.”
Paolo’s heart sank—it was so rare for Law to turn them down…and whenever he did, it meant he was definitely in a bad place. “Come on, Law—Marcus and Cole are safe for now. You need to take time before you burn out.”
Law shot him a look, his jaw clenched tight.
“Yeah, he definitely needs it,” Styx murmured in a tone that always got Paolo hard—and usually Law as well, but, this time, Law just shot them an irritable look and repeated, “I’ve got shit to do.”
“Not tonight you don’t,” Styx told him.
Law slammed out of his seat. “I don’t need a fucking corrective every time you guys think I’m upset over something. I’m allowed to be fucking upset or pissed off or whatever it is, okay?”
Paolo took a step back at the anger radiating from Law. “You are. Of course you are.”
“Then leave me alone and leave me to it,” Law told them both through clenched teeth. He picked up his laptop and left the room, and Styx put his arm around Paolo. “Cole could be his brother.”
“Jason?” Paolo had never seen pictured of him—Law’s brother had been killed by their father when both were just teens.
“Looks just like him, based on the few pictures I’ve seen.”
Well, that obviously explained a hell of a lot—not exactly a great thing, but Law hadn’t protested them helping Cole—it was just bringing up memories that were already never far from the surface.
No matter how deep Law tried to bury them…it would never be deep enough, Paolo knew. And that hurt him as much as it did Law.
“That’s not going to last long,” Styx told him now.
“What? The anger?”
Styx nodded. “I give it an hour, tops.”
“And then what?”
“Then we go in.”
Law
When he heard Styx and Paolo move upstairs, Law went back into the kitchen. Next to the bedroom, which was his favorite room in the house for the most obvious of reasons, the kitchen was his close second. Because he had multiple exits, a good view of the front and backyards…and it doubled very nicely if they couldn’t make it to the bedroom.
He felt safest here, most especially when the safety he was used to feeling suddenly deserted him. And he’d been feeling more and more vulnerable the more he learned about Cole and his case.
He hadn’t been surprised when Marcus told him about Cole’s background. He hadn’t liked letting Marcus infer his own background hadn’t been much different than Cole’s, but sometimes that was the only way to make people understand that it didn’t matter where people came from. It only mattered where they were now…and in Law’s eyes, Cole had made the break from his past, whatever the reasons.
Then again, Law knew as well as anyone that it was impossible to cut ties completely.
He hated stalkers. One of his best friends, Damon, had been stalked for years by the man who’d raped him. Stalkers were goddamned bullies.
He found himself fisting his hands on his thighs. He’d hated pushing Styx and Paolo away, but it was all just too raw. And he hadn’t been ready. Which was, of course, the point. He’d never be ready…
“Hey.”
Law looked up to see Paolo in the doorway. He should’ve known, because Paolo never gave up. He was probably more stubborn than Law and Styx put together, and that was saying something. “Hey.”
Paolo brushed past his chair, making sure a lingering hand passed across the back of his neck before pulling a beer bottle from the fridge. He used the edge of the countertop to open the bottle top and then leaned against the counter.
“I know you and Styx are pissed.”
Paolo raised a brow. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Guilty conscience?”
Law sighed. “Just when I think I’ve put it all behind me for good, I realize no, I’ve just put it away. Because you guys know I don’t have to worry about it coming up. But then something like Cole’s case comes up and…” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t get to me. It’s not even similar.”
“It’s about having no control. And Law, you didn’t. Cole didn’t. Both of you were forced into bad situations.” Paolo sounded so reasonable. Reassuring. “It’s okay that it’s still there for you. I hate that I can’t take it from you, but remembering it…I get why it’ll always be there. But you’re not in that place anymore. And you have to use me or Styx—or both—to make it better.”
“Have to?”
“Unless you just want to wallow. But Styx isn’t going to let that happen for much longer.”
No, Styx would take Law over his lap at some point soon—because he knew Law needed it. Not for any other reason. And Law wanted it, but that would make the feelings come up harder and faster—he had to feel them before they went away. And that’s what he didn’t want to have to deal with, at all.
“What did Marcus have to say?”
“Nice change of topic,” Law said wryly. Paolo took a pull from his beer, his lips pursing around the long neck. Law’s cock hardened. Immediately. “Cole told Marcus about his past. Marcus didn’t know how the fuck to handle it.”
“But you told him.”
“I did, yeah.”
Paolo nodded and took another drink, then must’ve noticed the look in Law’s eyes. His brow furrowed, and then he looked at the bottle. And Law. And Law’s lap. “I take it you’re not interested in the beer.”
“Not especially.”
“I see.”
Law spread his thighs on the chair, the outline of his dick through his worn jeans making it more than obvious how turned-on he was.
Paolo took another drink as he walked over toward Law. Finally, he handed the beer over. Law took a long pull, but he never took his eyes off Paolo, especially when the man dropped to his knees. He swallowed the beer, put the bottle down as Paolo undid Law’s jeans.
“Paolo, I—”
Paolo put a finger to Law’s lips. “You don’t have to. Not with me. Not ever, okay? Now lift, babe.”
Law accommodated him, let Paolo push the jeans down, managing to free Law’s cock and balls but still completely trapping his legs in the denim. Law was about to mention that when Paolo deep-throated his cock, without warning, and Law grabbed the seat of the chair and groaned.
Closed his eyes. And then Styx, who’d come from fucking nowhere, was behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Not saying a word.
“Where’s the I told you so?” Law bit out.
“Never needed one before, babe,” Styx reminded him. “That’s not the way this works.”
Law nodded his agreement, barely able to breathe correctly. Paolo was holding his hips, not letting him move, and when Paolo finally did release him, it was only so Styx could position him, forcing him to stand, holding on to the counter.
Paolo moved in between Law and the cabinets, taking his cock in his mouth again, while Styx’s lubed cock entered Law. He cursed.
“So tight, baby,” Styx murmured as he pushed in farther.
God, yeah, Law felt that. Styx was big, and Law didn’t bottom often. But every time he did, he wondered why he didn’t more often, because it was incredible to be filled like this. And he was, with Styx brushing his prostate, making Law cry out. The sensation of Paolo’s mouth and Styx’s cock was too much for him, sending him over the edge in that way he’d needed so desperately. The way his lovers forced him to see he needed. When he came hard in Paolo’s mouth, he felt Paolo come against his legs and Styx, minutes later, throb inside of him. He half collapsed against the countertop and he let the two men he loved more than life itself take care of him for the rest of the night, forcing his mind away from the past and focusing it firmly on the present.
Chapter Ten
Marcus slept on and off, but by the time the sun rose, he was awake and making breakfast. Cole came down to the kitchen more growly than he’d been the night before.
Marcus figured that now wasn’t the right time to talk to him more about the men from his past. Instead, he watched Cole shovel in some eggs and coffee and then begin pacing. All that nervous energy and there was nowhere for him to burn it off.
Marcus didn’t have any cars or bikes for him to fix here, but he did have a gym. He’d converted two of the bedrooms, knocking down a wall, adding in punching bags and various other items used in boxing, since that was Marcus’s favorite workout. He’d stopped short of getting a ring, but he had mats on the floor to mimic an actual ring’s size.
It was obvious that Cole worked out. He wasn’t bulky, but he was strong and muscled.
“I’ve got a gym set up in one of the bedrooms,” Marcus offered, and saw Cole’s eyes light up. “It’s got more boxing stuff than anything but—”
“That’s perfect,” Cole said. He went upstairs to the guest bedroom and came out in shorts and a T-shirt with the arms cut out. He strolled past Marcus to the gym but didn’t close the door. Seconds later, loud music shook the house, the kind of earth-shattering heavy-metal, old-school rock that shot through Marcus’s body like a jolt of electricity.
Curiosity got the best of him, and he followed the pounding beat of the music like it was some kind of pied piper. Cole was hitting the small punching bag with an intensity—and a focus—it was pretty damn incredible. He must’ve gotten in a hundred hits per minute, lost in the motion, the repetition and probably the music as well. It made Marcus’s hands itch to join him, but if he were honest with himself it was more than that, more than wanting to box.
He’d been drawn to Cole from the start, and pushing him away wasn’t working. Would bringing him closer? Or would that just cause a whole other set of problems neither of them needed?
But Marcus was tired of questioning, of wanting what he couldn’t have. At this point, there was no real reason he couldn’t reach out to Cole.
Cole stopped punching the bag and turned. He didn’t look surprised to see Marcus, and Marcus wondered if he’d heard him over the beat of the music. He held up his gloves and jerked his head toward the makeshift ring, a question in his eyes. Marcus nodded and held up a finger. He went downstairs and changed into clothing similar to Cole’s and returned, taping his knuckles quickly and sliding on the boxing gloves.
Cole had gotten so deep in the zone that he hadn’t noticed Marcus’s approach. Nothing to do with the louder-than-hell music—that was how he always boxed, iPod or not.
The anger that coiled deep inside of him had moved to strike so many times over the past few days that it had exhausted itself. Now, there was only “feeling”…and it made him nervous, so he had to wear that down too.
He’d laid himself bare to Marcus, and Marcus, to be fair, had been called out for some of his past too. But Marcus hadn’t sold his ass for money, then had to admit it to the first guy he’d been attracted to in forever.
Inside his head, Cole cursed to the beat of his fist on the bag.
Fuck.
Punch.
Fuck.
Punch.
Fuck.
The rhythm got stronger, until he realized that Marcus was behind the large bag, holding it in place so Cole could get better hits in. “You realize I’m pretending this is your face, right?”
Marcus looked unimpressed. But he did move away from the bag and a little too close to Cole. Without warning, Cole turned and punched him, his glove catching Marcus on the side of his jaw.
It was more satisfying than he’d imagined. He dodged, bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Marcus to retaliate. Needing him to.
Marcus bared his teeth and started to move. He was light on his feet for such a big man. And together, they’d moved onto the mat while circling each other, a silent agreement that they were going to finish this fight, one way or another.
Jab.
Duck.
Punch.
Marcus was good, although Cole got in several shots. Marcus seemed caught between admiration and anger.
“Tell me what you’re pissed about,” Marcus demanded.
Last night, Cole had dreamed of the past, woken in the middle of the night, restless and worried. He was also tired and angry, and he’d paced the floor, trying not to look out the windows into the darkness. Paranoia was something he’d never had to deal with when he was selling his body. Most of his clients wanted desperately for him not to recognize or remember them. He’d never had anyone obsessed with him or anything—he’d had regular, steady clients, but he’d spent the money almost as soon as it came in. “I’m losing everything. My job…my income. I’ve got nothing.”
“Thought maybe you’d saved some money from your previous job.” Marcus was jabbing him verbally, purposely, forcing Cole to get it all out.
But even though Cole continued punching, he didn’t take the bait immediately. “Yeah, I spent it on reckless things like rent and food,” he said dryly.
“Plus a random road trip. Even so, maybe you weren’t very good then. Because you should’ve been making more.”
Cole stopped, incredulous. “So what, you’re my pimp now? You’re judging my performance? I wish I knew you then—you could’ve negotiated my contracts.”
“Better than you did.”
“Dude, seriously, keep pushing it.”
“I’m really worried.”
Cole rushed him, but he wasn’t that much of a match for Marcus. Marcus caught Cole as the man bear-hugged him, punching at his back. Marcus made a soft grunting sound and then hooked his leg around the back of Cole’s so they both went down hard on the soft mat.
Cole was about to tell him that this was not allowed in boxing, but one look at Marcus’s eyes, the feeling of his cock hard against Cole’s own, and he didn’t give a shit about fighting anymore.
Marcus rolled them, ending up on top of Cole. Kissing him. And before Cole knew what fucking way was up, he was kissing Marcus back.
Finally, he pulled away. “Son of a bitch—you goaded me into this.”
Marcus didn’t even look guilty. “You wouldn’t kiss me any other way.”
“For good reason.” But Cole was rubbing against him. “Hope you have condoms.”
“I do,” Marcus told him. “But I know you get tested regularly. That you’re clean.”
Cole froze and then his adrenaline surged. He bucked Marcus off him, jumped to his feet. “Fuck you—my medical history records are private.”
Marcus was on his feet
again too. Cole swung, but Marcus was ready, caught Cole’s fist in his palm and held it. Too long, because Cole caught the back of Marcus’s knee with his foot and, together, they went tumbling down hard because Marcus wouldn’t let go of him.
“Does it make you a big man, having me admit that I get tested a lot? That I always did? That I doubled up on condoms, refused a shitload of money to bareback? That I’m still going to be paranoid for the rest of my life, Marcus?” he hissed.
Marcus stared up at him. “You sold yourself for sex. Probably dropped out of high school, same old story about your parents not understanding you or hitting you or abandoning you. The usual bullshit. Rough trade. The lure of the customer, the easy money, was too much to resist.”
“You got that last chunk wrong.” Cole was sick to his stomach. He rolled off Marcus and went to walk away. He didn’t expect Marcus to tackle him, but he ended up flat on his back, Marcus on him. “Is this your idea of professionalism?”
“I give what I get, Cole. My job is to figure out what the fuck is going on with you.”
“What’s going on is you leaving me the fuck alone. Someone tried to kill me—or do you think I planted the bomb myself?”
“Definitely not.”
Marcus wasn’t the only one who could read people. “Just because you got fucked over and didn’t realize you were paying for it until it was too late doesn’t mean you get to project all your shit on me.”
Bingo. Marcus stilled. Blanched. Of course, Cole had gone too far—it’s what he did when pushed. And now he was trying to ensure that Marcus stayed as far from him as possible.
He was done hanging around with people who made him feel used. “Call Styx. Tell him thanks but I’m going to do this on my own.”
“I’m not officially working the case anymore.”
“Then get off me…and let me go,” Cole growled.
“I’m a client myself. Your case has tangled me up in it. You know that.”
“You can stay here and watch yourself.”
“Whatever former trick misses your cock put a bomb inside my apartment,” Marcus informed him. “So you aren’t going anywhere until we figure out who this could possibly be.”