by SE Jakes
And he was. He used the key to open his cell door, realized they were in some kind of basement, and based on the cold, still very much in upstate New York. He stilled in the hallway, realized that Guthrie had to have video of him, and moving forward without waiting for the confrontation could be deadly.
The knife was inside the waistband of his boxer briefs, not easily seen but would be easily pulled. He wanted Guthrie to think he was barehanded, but he had no idea if he’d seen the objects drop from the window.
He waited, his stance tight, his body warmer now that his blood was flowing pure revenge. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he’d learned it over the past months. Guthrie had been an inadvertently good teacher.
Finally, he heard the slight creak of footsteps on the stairs. He held his breath and forced himself to stay still, until the shadow fell across his path.
“Ah, Shane, do you really think you can win this?” Guthrie shook his head sadly. He carried a knife, but he closed it and slid it inside his pocket.
He doesn’t even think you’re worth a weapon. “Come fight me,” he screamed, wanting Guthrie to think he was lost and over the edge.
Guthrie smiled. He was a perfect weapon, but Shane had something he didn’t. Shane had tucked the grief and revenge and hatred away. Now all he had was calm purpose. That was what he needed to get the edge.
It took everything he had not to lose it when Shane screamed. Because at that moment, Reed would’ve ripped his goddamned arms off to stop the man from calling trouble onto himself. He knew Keith would figure out where they were—Guthrie hadn’t taken them far at all. Reed would bet they were in one of the abandoned houses set for foreclosure. Most of the real estate agents and the banks didn’t even bother dealing with them until after first thaw.
Guthrie had had a couple of months to plan this.
His neck ached where the dart had hit. His head throbbed. But hell, he was more clearheaded than he’d been in his life.
He could move, but he didn’t. Because if Shane could save him, it might make up for more than he realized. So even though the claustrophobia threatened to drown him, he stayed as still as possible and let the man he’d grown to love fight for him, for Kyle, for all of them.
“How would he have known what Reed went through?” Keith demanded as he stared into the TV monitor in Shane’s cell. It was the window they could get closest too without setting off alarms. Prophet had disabled a wire or two in order to get them this far. “How does he get his intel?”
“That mission was classified.” Prophet’s eyes were stony, his demeanor way too calm, the way it always was whenever that particular mission was referenced.
Now, they waited, eyes on the fight and on Reed. Both men strained at the bit to go in and save Reed, but for Shane, they held off.
“If he fucks this up, I’ll kill him myself,” Prophet promised.
“He won’t.” Keith shifted between watching the box and watching Shane fight. He’d been right—Shane had been holding back during their sessions. Granted, he’d been recovering as well, but Keith would’ve recognized these moves instantly.
But Guthrie was no slouch, and this fight was well matched. Both men were staggering and more than a little bloody. To his credit, Shane had yet to use the knife. This was a knock-down, drag-out, bare-knuckles brawl. A fight to the death.
“We can’t let him kill Guthrie.”
“The fuck we can’t,” Prophet huffed. “Kill the bastard myself if I have to.”
“Just call your CIA contacts and let them know what’s happening.”
“Why?”
“Maybe Shane wants his old job back.”
Prophet shook his head as if to say why would anyone be that stupid, but he walked away and made a call. Keith remained rooted to the spot, ready to move if Shane needed him.
He was fighting for Kyle. For Reed. Most of all, he was fighting for himself—because he was whole again now, and no one would ever take that away from him.
Guthrie’s mouth was bleeding, but he still wore that grin, the one he’d always used when he was sparring. Shane would wipe it right off. He did a roundhouse kick that caught Guthrie behind his knee. Then, a hand to the back of the neck and he brought his knee up and heard the snap and the scream as he broke Guthrie’s nose.
Yeah, no more smiling now.
He backed up as Guthrie stumbled away. Before the man straightened, Shane ran for him, ramming his head into the man’s midsection, slamming him against the wall with a hard thud. As Guthrie began sliding down the wall, he grabbed the man’s hair and hit his head against the wall. Once, twice and Guthrie slumped into unconsciousness.
He yanked the knife out of its sheath and grabbed Guthrie by the hair on top of his head, exposing his neck. Killing him would be the eye for an eye, bring the greatest satisfaction, and for a long moment he almost didn’t stop himself.
He won’t suffer this way. And that’s what stopped Shane. Instead, he put the knife down, opened the door for Keith, who came around the corner. Shane didn’t wait; instead he opened the door of the second locked cell-like room and went to the box.
He undid the heavy lock and opened it, saying, “Reed, it’s me. You’re okay. We’re safe—Keith is here.”
Reed was staring straight ahead. It had obviously taken all of his strength and concentration not to panic, and he hadn’t.
Shane could tell, because the skin on the man’s wrists was intact. Reed stared up at him. Blinked a few times. And then he smiled. “You did good, kid,” he managed, his voice hoarse, and then Shane was helping him up and out of the box.
“You did too,” Shane told him. “And fuck, I wish you hadn’t had to.”
“Stop. I feel like I got a second chance. A way to get rid of the nightmares. And I think you did too.”
“Because of Keith.”
“He’s never going to let us live this down.”
“And we’re lucky as hell for it.”
When they walked back out of the room, Reed’s arms around Shane’s neck, they found Prophet holding Keith’s knife and Guthrie dead on the floor. There was something in Prophet’s eyes that made Shane not say a word, just allowed the man to come on the other side of Reed and bring them outside into Keith’s waiting truck.
Epilogue
Six months later
Shane stretched as he stood in the middle of the jet, not yet awake.
“Par for the course,” Keith mumbled as he glanced up at him. Shane blinked a few times and looked around to get his bearings.
Right—the jet. Executive Enterprises, LTD. The mission.
Keith. Reed.
He pulled the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders and grinned.
“Yeah, he’s back,” Reed said with a chuckle.
“How’re your ribs?” Keith asked.
Shane frowned, moved the blanket and tried to look at his side that was bruised up from the recent mission, ended up turning around in a circle like a dog chasing his tail. “Shit, you did that on purpose.”
Keith and Reed were laughing too hard to say anything.
“That’s not fair to do to a wounded man,” he protested.
“I’m going to do a lot more unfair things to you when we get home. Both of you,” Keith announced.
“Not if I do them to both of you first,” Shane echoed.
“I told you, he’s a bad influence,” Keith said, but he looked anything but unhappy, especially when Reed nodded enthusiastically. “Now sit down and buckle up. Gary’s prepping to land.”
He’d just returned from his first mission with both men. The feeling possessing him now was heady. It had been a relief to be in the field again, to show off his confidence.
A relief to be able to come back to the cabin with both men and call it home.
The CIA had offered him his old job, which meant he’d be going back to undercover work. When he’d refused, they’d given him a great pension as a shut-up gift. Guthrie was dead, because that’s how th
e CIA takes care of their own, Prophet said darkly. And even though Shane knew Prophet was right, Shane couldn’t figure out if Prophet thought that was a good thing or not.
All Shane knew was that somehow, Kyle had a hand in leading him down the right path to where he belonged.
About the Author
SE Jakes writes m/m romance. She believes in happy endings and fighting for what you want. You can find out more about her and her books at www.SEJakes.com. You can also:
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Look for these titles by SE Jakes
Now Available:
Men of Honor
Bound By Honor
Bound By Law
Ties That Bind
Bound By Danger
The danger that drew them together could send them over the edge…
Bound By Danger
© 2012 S.E. Jakes
Men of Honor, Book 4
Playing the role of enforcer in the Killers motorcycle club, all CIA operative Clint “Tomcat” Sommers has to do is make sure he has a body to show for his work. Thanks to his ability to move stealthily and easily between the two worlds, the CIA is damned close to making one of its biggest MC gang busts.
Two years undercover have taken their toll, but there’s no backing out now. Tomcat’s only reprieve from the pressure is fantasizing about the newest member of the gang.
Worry for his cousin’s involvement in the Killers drove Navy SEAL Jace Reynolds to agree to infiltrate the gang to do some short-term surveillance for the FBI. The deal: do the job, and his cousin gets witness protection. When he meets Tomcat, though, his fantasies kick into overdrive. Meeting men while on active duty is tough. Acting on his desires within the club could have deadly consequences.
Despite the risks, Tomcat’s and Jace’s off hours flare hotter than a full-throttle burnout. But the smoke is bound to attract unwanted attention. And when Tomcat suddenly disappears, the secrets both warriors keep could send one of them to the grave.
Warning: Contains two hot men undercover—and under the covers. Both with secrets under wraps that could cause everything to unravel in the deadliest way imaginable. If you’re inspired to try something new on a motorcycle, go for it. Just don’t blame the author for any pulled muscles.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Bound By Danger:
Jace couldn’t decide if this was the best thing he’d ever done or the stupidest, figured it was a draw and tried not to let his nerves show as Tomcat’s kisses became more demanding. And fuck it all, he really liked it, as he knew he would.
But just when he was ready to take off all his damned clothes, Tomcat’s phone rang, and he pulled away, grumbled and took the call while Jace watched him, trying to pull himself together.
Jace had known he was bisexual for a long time but hadn’t done more than kiss and get blowjobs from random men throughout the years. Once in the military, the guy-on-guy thing became harder, and instead of finding his satisfaction with women, he went into the fantasy-and-his-own-hand route for satisfaction. And that worked for a little while.
When his fantasies had gotten too big and insistent enough to pull him away from movies and his hand, he’d done some investigating and discovered this club that specialized in making fantasies come true. They linked Doms with one-time subs—all free and on the up-and-up—and everyone was screened for safety. And privacy. But he’d quickly realized that going out and cruising gay clubs in the area wasn’t an option now—he was too new and inexperienced, never mind active-duty military. And he really didn’t know if this was something best kept a fantasy.
But judging by how hard his dick was, this was exactly what he wanted, and he didn’t have to go to that club to find out.
No, he’d pretty much known it the minute he’d laid eyes Tomcat in the clubhouse bar. Jace had gone home that night and had his first wet dream since he was a preteen.
When he’d caught wind of the way things were going down at the MC tonight, he knew from the first that the former military man could be in trouble, and something in Jace’s gut told him the man was undercover. Maybe because he was as well, but for the FBI, not CIA. Tomcat wasn’t a Fed, and the man would be pissed as hell if he thought Jace was horning in on his territory. Being a part of this MC in any way, shape or form was practically a suicide attempt anyway.
He had the perfect in with his cousin Kenny, who’d always been too fucking dimwitted for his own good. The fact that Jace was active duty gave this chapter bragging rights. And the FBI had been counting on that, needed intel on the drug ring.
Jace’s motives had been selfish—the only way his cousin could leave the club was literally by dying. If Jace did his job right, Kenny would get witness protection. It wasn’t optimal, but otherwise the man would end up six feet under.
But now, Kenny and the MC and the Feds were the furthest thing from his mind, especially when Tomcat hung the phone up and, without a moment’s hesitation, grabbed him. Jace waited for him to kiss him, strip him, to do something, because his body was practically vibrating with need.
Tomcat just watched him for a long second, like he was reading his mind, then brushed a hand over Jace’s cheek. “You’ve done this before, right?” he asked as Jace tried to breathe. He managed to shake his head and wondered how much of a problem it was going to be for Tomcat. Because Jace refused to let it be any kind of problem for him.
“So exactly how much of a virgin are you?” Tomcat continued.
Jace gave him the cocked-eyebrow, self-assured look that told him he wasn’t worried that he’d never been with a guy for actual sex, even though the reality was that he was nervous as hell. “Enough of one. Why, you into that?”
“Yeah, I am, actually.”
Jace jolted as Tomcat’s hand cupped his cock, a hard finger pressed under his balls. “Really into that. Because there’s nothing like watching a virgin get fucked for the first time, and I like being the one doing the fucking.”
A sudden image of him pinned beneath Tomcat, spread and begging, made his dick leak. He might’ve shuddered a little as a contraction of pleasure shot through him, and Tomcat smirked—the look of a predator who knew he had his prey just where he wanted it.
“So what are you waiting for, then?” Jace managed anyway.
“I want you—trust me. But it’s not going to be painless.”
“Do I look like I have trouble handling a little pain?” Jace couldn’t help it—he reached for the man’s zipper, found that Tomcat liked to go commando. He pulled away to look down at the long, hard dick he’d started to stroke. And then slowly, he sank to his knees, because all he wanted to do was taste this man.
Tomcat grabbed his shoulders and attempted to draw him up, saying, “I have done this before, so why don’t you let me lead?”
But Jace couldn’t. Not yet. “Don’t stop me. Jesus, please don’t,” he heard himself murmur—hell, maybe he was even begging—and then Tomcat let out a rough groan and surrendered to Jace’s touch. His hand circled the hard cock; his mouth sought to taste the salty precome already leaking.
He closed his eyes and let his natural instincts take over. Held Tomcat’s hips and let the man wind a hand in his hair and lead him along as he took Tomcat’s cock as deeply as he could into his mouth.
Lights, lovers…action!
Came Upon a Midnight Clear
© 2012 Katie Porter
Born to old Virginia money, film producer Kyle Wakefield’s conservative upbringing kept him in the closet. Only once did he venture outside: for a tempestuous teenage affair with Nathan Carnes. When Nathan’s self-destructive streak landed him in prison, Kyle slammed the door on youthful hopes. Despite Hollywood successes, he still hides his true self.<
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He thought he’d moved on, until his production company hires Nathan and his Second Chances stunt crew to work on the London set of a big-budget action flick. Watching Nathan risk life and limb with fellow ex-cons looking for a fresh start makes it tough for Kyle to keep his desires hidden.
Thirteen years have passed since Nathan’s teenage self-doubt led him to sabotage any chance of a future with Kyle. He’s come a long way since then, but despite their explosive sexual chemistry, Kyle treats their attraction like a deep dark secret.
Their matched Hollywood ambitions and a pain-in-the-ass director make cooperation essential. As the London holiday season casts its spell, the two men find themselves on the verge of falling in love again—even as old secrets and pain keep them shackled. The only hope of unlocking their hearts is a Christmas miracle.
Warning: This book features a snowy London Christmas, sex on a pool table, a hot-and-dirty gay nightclub, and naughty references to candy canes.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Came Upon a Midnight Clear:
Kyle had wanted to let loose. That tight, pained place in his soul had needed it. Seeing Nate again… Remembering how free he’d once felt in the arms of the young man he’d loved…
Kyle was strangling on the precepts that kept his life ordered and successful.
Don’t let it show.
Don’t let anyone know.
And don’t get caught.
That last one was imperative. He hadn’t been a monk for the last ten years, but that meant stray hook-ups in the recesses of various cities. A guy had to protect his sanity. He’d stayed safe, got off, went home. Not exactly a stable emotional basis for accepting his homosexuality. Too much of it was cloaked in shadow and shame.
There, however, in a thumping underground club in the heart of SoHo, he could let it show, and everyone sure as hell knew he was queer.