Sins of the Father (Wilde Love Book 2)

by Sam Burns

  At that, Keegan let out a choked moan, and his eyes rolled shut. “‘M ready,” he managed to say with some difficulty. The look in his eyes when he opened them left no question as to his intent.

  “You’re not,” Jon whispered back. “It’ll hurt. Is that what you want?”

  Keegan’s eyes darkened, and he gave a shallow nod. “Yeah. Like it that way.”

  Jon nodded, slipped the condom on and slicked it with more lube, then positioned himself, nudging the head of his cock against Keegan’s ass. He made no complaint about it when Keegan’s eyes slipped closed again. The way his dark eyelashes brushed his cheeks was too pretty. They both held their breaths as Jon pushed in.

  It had obviously been a while for Keegan. He was tight, and he let out a whimper as Jon slid home. Jon froze in place. Keegan was breathing only shallowly, but he looked like he’d found nirvana. For that expression alone, the whole night was perfect.

  “Move?” Keegan breathed.

  Without question or hesitation, Jon complied. He started slowly, but when Keegan started meeting him thrust for thrust, he sped his movements. Keegan kept pace flawlessly. He wrapped one long leg around Jon’s hips, drawing him even deeper inside, and they both groaned at the increased contact.

  “Fuck, Jon—”

  Jon increased speed again. If Keegan was talking, he obviously wasn’t doing his job well enough. Keegan’s voice melted into a moan, and his head fell back against the pillows, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  “Come on,” Jon panted through his thrusts. “Need you to come for me, Keegan. You need help?”

  Keegan’s head tossed back and forth, but Jon wasn’t sure it was an intentional answer. It didn’t matter much, as on a sharp thrust, Keegan arched up, his body rigid. His cock jerked between them as he came all over his own stomach, groaning deep in his throat.

  It didn’t take much more for Jon to follow him over the edge; a handful of thrusts, and he was collapsing on top of Keegan’s spent form, panting.

  For the first time in his life, Jon ignored the rules of post-sex cleanup. He grabbed Keegan around the waist and rolled them both onto their sides, facing each other. Still overheated and sweaty as he was, he wasn’t ready to be away from Keegan. He drifted in a post-sex haze for a few moments, and even as sleep took him, his mind was on the man in his arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Keegan Really Hates Doctors

  Keegan passed the next few days in a fluffy cloud that couldn’t be penetrated by angry customers, terrible applications for the management position, or even meddling best friends who acted smug and self-satisfied every time he looked at them. He and Jon had a dinner date scheduled for Friday, and he refused to allow anything between to bother him.

  So when he woke Thursday morning with the conviction that something was wrong, he didn’t know what to think. He considered calling Jon, but since Keegan woke after ten most mornings, he’d already be at work. Brigit would too, but Keegan could call her at work without concern that her boss wouldn’t approve.

  He picked up his phone to make the call, and it rang. The caller ID said it was Mickey Martin, and a stone settled in Keegan’s stomach.

  “Yeah, Mick?” he answered.

  “It’s not an emergency,” Mickey said immediately in his usual no-nonsense tone, but his voice was low, almost a whisper. “He hasn’t collapsed. He’s not back in the hospital.”

  “But?”

  “But I think you need to come,” Mickey told him. “He hasn’t been getting better the way he should. I called a doctor in, but—”

  Keegan sighed. “Yeah, I get the picture. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  For once, Keegan opted against wearing a suit. He threw on his oldest jeans and a ridiculous “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt that he’d had since he was a teenager, then headed down to the garage.

  When he arrived at the house, Wilkes let him in without a word. The man seemed more tense than usual, and he walked stiffly. Keegan wondered how bad the situation in the house had to be, that the usually unflappable butler was affected.

  He didn’t have to wonder for long. He heard his father’s voice before he even made it halfway up the stairs.

  “. . . don’t know what the hell you were thinking bringing a quack like that into my home, but get rid of him!”

  Keegan blinked. His father was practically yelling at someone. There were stories in the family that Brendan Quinn was at his most dangerous when he was quiet, but that was at least partially because he wasn’t prone to losing his temper. He hardly ever raised his voice.

  The tirade broke off in a coughing fit, and just as Keegan opened the door, there was the sound of glass breaking against the wall next to where he stood. A puddle of water and shards of broken crystal lay on the wood floor a foot from Keegan, and he was happy he’d not come in a moment sooner.

  His father was still coughing, and he looked worse off than the last time Keegan had seen him. He glared at Keegan as he entered. “I suppose you’re here to agree with them?” he asked, his voice unrecognizably gruff.

  “What are we supposed to be agreeing about?” Keegan asked, keeping his voice as light as he could.

  Mickey was standing in one corner, trying to look unaffected. Keegan guessed he hadn’t told anyone that he’d called for help. Owen was beside the bed with a well-dressed, terrified man. Keegan thought Owen looked just like their father in that moment, glaring at the old man as though daring him to say something rude.

  “I’m not going back to the damned hospital,” his father told him. Keegan raised an eyebrow.

  “The hell you’re not!” Owen almost shouted. He wasn’t prone to raising his voice either, but Keegan supposed that if one of them was doing it, the other might as well follow suit. He wondered if they’d be bothered when they realized how alike they were. Owen took a deep breath, turned towards Keegan, and tried again. “Dad isn’t getting better, so we called a doctor. He thinks we should go back to the hospital, just to run some tests and make sure there’s nothing else wrong.”

  “We?” Dad rasped. “There’s no we, and I’m not going anywhere. I don’t even smoke.”

  Keegan looked at his father, cocking his head curiously. “So what?”

  Owen scowled and crossed his arms. “The doctor thinks—”

  “The doctor’s a damned fool!” his father announced, his words barely understandable.

  “—it might be cancer, and we should make sure,” Owen finished, glaring at the old man, and then at the doctor, who was still cowering. Poor guy sure hadn’t signed on to be yelled at by one Quinn and glared at by another.

  “Lemme make sure I’ve got this,” Keegan said. “Dad’s still sick after all those antibiotics, so you called a doctor. The doctor thinks we need more tests, and Dad’s yelling at him instead of going?”

  Brendan looked like he was trying to wind up for another tirade, but Keegan wasn’t sure his voice could handle a regular speaking volume, let alone yelling.

  “That’s exactly it,” Owen agreed.

  Keegan nodded. He turned to the doctor. “Thank you, we appreciate you coming out like this. Please send us the bill, and include something extra for your inconvenience.”

  Looking back at the old man, Keegan quirked an eyebrow. His father lifted his chin in defiance. Keegan thought of a five-year-old, but calling his father a child out loud was taking things a bit too far.

  “Mick,” Keegan said, turning toward his old friend. “Bring the car around, will you? Or get Alan to?”

  “Alan’s day off,” Owen muttered.

  Keegan nodded, and looked at Mickey again. Mickey nodded back, already on his way toward the door.

  His father sneered. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t bloody make me.”

  Keegan felt oddly detached from his body, but he knew he was smiling at his father. It reminded him of the feeling he used to get in dangerous situations, that strange mental distance from himself. “That’s funny, Dad.”

  Hi
s father’s eyes narrowed.

  “What’s funny?” Owen asked from somewhere to Keegan’s right.

  Keegan glanced at his little brother. “That he thinks I can’t make him. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

  Owen’s mouth fell open in shock, and Keegan distantly heard his father kicking up a fuss, but it wasn’t even hard to pick the old man up and sling him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It hurt, all that weight on his bad shoulder, but the old man wasn’t nearly as heavy as he should have been, and his struggling was far too weak. Even as an adult who was taller than his father, Keegan had never for a moment doubted that the old man could lay him out if he wanted to. More than anything, the lack of fight in him proved that something was wrong.

  He heard Owen call out that he’d be right down, and not to leave without him, so he assumed his brother would grab anything they needed for another day at the hospital.

  Mickey didn’t say anything as Keegan came out of the house. He pointedly didn’t look at Brendan, but when Keegan met his eye, he looked grateful. Sometimes, Keegan thought that Mick loved his father even more than he did. He carefully leaned over and deposited the old man into the back of the car.

  “If I’ve gotta knock your ass out so you don’t cause trouble when we admit you, Dad, I will,” he warned, reaching in to buckle his seat belt.

  His father stared up at him, mouth hanging open in shock.

  “The doctor thinks it might be cancer, goddammit.” Keegan stared into his father’s eyes, utterly unwilling to back down. “I don’t care if you think you’re immortal, you’re not. And if the doctor thinks it might be cancer, you damned well go to the hospital and get tested for it.”

  After a long pause, his father closed his mouth, pulled his legs into the car, and gave a small nod. He looked like he was still in shock. No surprise there. Keegan was too.

  Owen rushed out of the house, carrying a bag and what appeared to be an arsenal of electronic devices. He stared at Keegan as he crawled into the car next to their father, eyes wide.

  “Kid’s never seen you pissed off before,” Mickey murmured as he closed the car door with the two of them inside.

  Keegan considered that for a moment, and nodded. “I didn’t bring that shit home.”

  Mickey nodded back. “Of course you didn’t. Your father taught you better.” He opened the front passenger-side door and held it for Keegan, who turned to climb in.

  “Thank you, Mick.”

  Mickey gave him a sad smile. “Anytime, Key. You know I’ll always be here.”

  All Keegan could do was nod.

  #

  The hospital hadn’t changed in the week since their previous visit, but somehow it seemed more drab and miserable.

  Keegan sat in the same chair as before, staring at the wall. Owen had handed him an e-reader, but he hadn’t been able to focus well enough to read anything. It probably didn’t help that Owen favored hard science fiction. Keegan had never been a big fan of the genre.

  Owen paced the room, all excess energy and frustration. He kept glancing at Keegan like he wasn’t sure if he was angry with him, or impressed by him. It was a look he’d gotten many times over the years, but getting it from his little brother wasn’t making him feel better.

  Mickey sat next to Keegan, head bowed and shoulders tense.

  He sighed. “It’s gonna be okay, Mick.”

  Mickey turned to him, nodding, but he didn’t quite meet Keegan’s eyes.

  “I know you love him like he’s your own father,” Keegan said, laying a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “And I know you’ve been through this before. But I’m telling you, Mick, it’s gonna be okay.”

  “He,” Owen said from the middle of the room, making both of them turn their heads to look up at him. “He’s going to be okay. Not it.”

  Keegan looked his brother in the eye, but he didn’t agree. He didn’t know it was true anymore, and he wasn’t going to lie to Owen again.

  Mickey looked between them for a moment and sighed. “I’m sorry, you guys. I’m not trying to make trouble.”

  “You’re not making trouble, Mickey. You’re family. You’re allowed to be scared, and mad, and . . . hell, I don’t even know how I feel.” Keegan dropped his hand from Mickey’s shoulder and leaned his head back against the wall behind his chair, staring up at the tiled drop ceiling.

  “You both think he’s dying,” Owen said, his voice breaking on the last word, as though the effort to force it past his lips was too much. “You think it’s cancer, and you’re giving up on him.”

  “Hey now,” Mickey said, somehow sounding reassuring and annoyed at the same time. “Nobody’s giving up, O. Nobody. But I’ve been through this cancer thing before, and it’s bad. If that’s what it is, you gotta be ready for it. That chemo stuff, it’ll make him real sick.”

  Owen spun away. He wrapped his arms around himself and refused to look at them. Mickey looked like he wanted to go to him, but Keegan knew his little brother better than that. He put his hand back on Mick’s arm, catching his eye and shaking his head. Owen didn’t like people to see him cry, not even his brother. He doubted Mickey would be any different.

  “Mick’s right, Owen.” Keegan decided that the best reassurance in this case was preparing Owen for reality. “We’re not giving up, but we have to be ready for it. We’re not going to help him if we keep letting him pretend everything is fine. I should have put a stop to it last week.”

  Owen snorted, and though his shoulders continued to shake, it became apparent that instead of sobs, Owen was holding back laughter. “Seriously?” he asked after a minute, turning back to them, giving Keegan a disbelieving look. “I know you were all badass and scary this morning, but how often does anyone tell Dad what he’s allowed to pretend?”

  Mickey gave Keegan a look that said he agreed, and Keegan shrugged sheepishly. “I dunno. I just wish I’d tried harder. Maybe they’d have already figured it out, and he’d be getting treatment.”

  The amusement faded from Owen’s face, and he shook his head. “This isn’t on you, Key, none of it. If you were sick, you’d see a doctor. I may be scared we’ll lose him, but that doesn’t make the way this happened any less his fault.”

  Mickey’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d be the last person to ever say anything against Brendan Quinn, but without saying a word, his zipped lips and raised brows showed his agreement with Owen.

  Keegan nodded. “Okay. But you know, we don’t all have to sit here doing nothing. You should go to class, Owen. And Mick, I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

  “And you don’t?” Owen asked, looking dubious. “It’s not like I’m going to be able to focus on class anyway, with all this going on.”

  Conceding the point, Keegan inclined his head. He doubted he’d be able to focus on school stuff either. He hadn’t been any good in school, even under the best circumstances. There was a reason he’d skipped the whole college thing, and it wasn’t just that he’d been convinced he already had the only job he’d ever need.

  They sat there in silence for a while, each trying to reconcile his own issues with the situation.

  Keegan suspected that the whole thing had to be giving Mickey flashbacks to his mother wasting away of cancer. Owen hadn’t dealt with their mother’s death at all, he’d just grown up without one. All Keegan had known was that his mother went to the hospital, and his father came back with Owen instead. Neither of them had ever had to deal with a sick parent the way Mickey had.

  He sighed. “I don’t care if we can’t focus on other stuff, it’s stupid for us all to be sitting here waiting for something to happen. Mick, why don’t you take Owen somewhere and buy lunch? Or go to the library, or a bookstore, or something. This place sucks, and hanging out here sucks even more.”

  A passing nurse raised an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes.

  “Why do you have to be the one who stays?” Owen asked. At first, Keegan wanted to dismiss the question as childish or p
etulant, but then he realized what it really was. It was his little brother, being an adult.

  “Okay, Owen,” he answered, crossing his ankles and looking at his brother. “Why don’t we make a schedule? I’ll stay tonight, and you can take tomorrow.”

  Owen glanced behind himself as though checking to see if there was another Owen that Keegan might be talking to. Turning back, he nodded. “Okay. We can do that. But why can’t I stay tonight?”

  Keegan let a grin spread across his face. “Because I have a date tomorrow night, that’s why.”

  Mickey gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Your feeb?”

  He supposed he should have expected Mickey to know. His father had probably complained to him about Keegan’s taste in men.

  “His what? Who?” The look on Owen’s face went from confusion, to shock, to fascination, all in under a second. He turned to Keegan. “You’re dating a federal agent?”

  “Yes, and no I can’t get you recommended to the department or whatever,” Keegan told him. He didn’t know if it was true, but he didn’t want to ask. That sounded like a great way to make Jon a joke among his coworkers.

  Owen waved a hand to dispel the idea. “Forget about that. You’re dating? A federal agent? How did that even happen?”

  Keegan narrowed his eyes in Mickey’s direction, and found his old friend looking as intent on the answer as Owen. He ducked his head. “He was investigating Dad.” Before either of them could interrupt or get offended, he rushed to continue. “But he’s not anymore!”

  Mickey leaned back and looked at Keegan, tilting his head to the side. “He quit investigating the boss so he could date you?”

  “Wow,” Owen breathed. “You must have made a heck of an impression.”

  Keegan’s cheeks heated, but he smiled. “I dunno. But it’s, ah, kinda nice.”

  “Aww,” Mickey cooed, looking over at Owen. “If that ain’t the cutest, most disgusting thing ever, I don’t know what is. If you’re busy tomorrow, I can be here. I’ll just tell ‘em I’m Key.”