by Avril Ashton
He got on his hands and knees and picked up the tube of lipstick from the floor where Tek had dropped it earlier. Then Quinn crawled over to Tek. “We share it,” he said softly. Tek’s eyes were closed and he popped first one then both eyes open to stare at Quinn. “All the pain and the anger. The hurt, We share that shit.” He picked up the left heel that had come off Tek’s foot and put it back on, and Tek’s gaze widened as he watched Quinn right his shoes and smooth the stockings. He grinned and straddled Tek’s legs, holding up the lipstick.
“I won’t promise to fix it, but I can and will promise to stand by you, with you, and fight for you.” He uncapped the lipstick. “And do you know why?”
Tek didn’t speak, but he didn’t move either as Quinn did a piss poor job of reapplying the lipstick to the other man’s lips. One swipe on the top.
“Tell me why?”
One swipe on the bottom.
“Because I am yours.” Tek parted his lips in a small O and Quinn did another pass, this time all the way around his lips.
“Long as you know who you belong to.” When he was finished, he bent and bumped Tek’s nose with his. “You are perfection. To me. Everything I could possibly want and need is here.” He touched Tek’s face. “With you.”
He started to lift off Tek, but his lover held him still with a hand at his nape. “You should know this by now, but in case you didn’t, let me tell you. You’ve got my heart. If there’s a question of my love, who it belongs to. Who owns it. You. My heart and my loyalties, they are with you.”
Quinn nodded. “I know,” he said against Tek’s forehead. “I know.”
Something went off. Took him a second to realize it was Tek’s phone.
“Sorry.” His lover grimaced. “That’s my father’s ring tone.”
“Go ahead.” Quinn got off, and Tek fumbled for his phone in his discarded jeans pocket.
“Hello?” He frowned. “Hello? Bá?” He stared at the phone then brought it back to his ear. “Hello?”
“Something wrong?”
Tek cursed and turned to him. “Don’t know. He’s not answering.”
“Do you think something’s wrong?” Quinn got to his feet and pulled on a pair of jeans.
“Dunno. I—” Tek sighed and removed the wig. “Do you mind if I go check on him? I’ll be back soon.”
“Of course.” Quinn hugged him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll be here.”
Tek stepped out of the dress and kicked off the heels as he picked his jeans up off the floor. “I won’t be long.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The parking lot was empty save for his father’s car. Tek exited his own vehicle and walked over to the doors of the market. The sign had been flipped to Sorry, We’re Closed. But the lights were on behind the locked doors.
He squinted and dialed his father’s phone again. A second later, he heard an answering ring coming from the back of the store.
Something dark and dreadful slithered over his skin. He took a deep breath, focused, and shot out the lock on the door. He strode straight through the store and to the back where his father’s office was located.
Quiet. Eerie stillness.
He crept down the hall on silent feet, senses on alert, his fingers tight on the hilt of his Glock.
His father’s office door was open. He sidled up against the wall and peeked in. The light on his desk was on, his chair facing away from the desk, but Tek made out the top of his head.
“Bá.” He rolled his eyes and stepped fully into the room. “I’ve been calling your phone.” He reached his father’s desk and walked around to face him.
Except that wouldn’t be happening. Not with the blood everywhere.
“Dad!” Tek crashed to his knees beside his father. He was making sounds, gurgling, struggling, fighting to live.
“No.” He grasped his father’s shoulders, hugged him close. His glasses were cracked, but still on his face. His skin color was almost fucking translucent.
“Xa—Xiao Ch—”
“Bá, please.” The tears streaming down his cheeks stunned Tek, and he stared at his father’s face for a second before realizing, he could see him.
His eyes.
Brown eyes, the whites quickly turning that color Tek had seen time and time again on the bodies he’d dropped, the men he’d killed.
“Bá, you’re leaving me.” He sobbed. “Please. Please don’t.”
“Jo—” His father’s lips barely moved. “Jonny. J-Jonny.”
“Don’t leave.” Tek shouted when his father’s head rolled back. He shook him. Shook him again. “Bá. Don’t. Don’t.”
But he did, he left. Decades Tek had waited to stare into his father’s eyes. Now the time had finally come. But not like this. Not like this.
He felt himself splinter, heard himself break. Like fine china smashing against smooth tiled floor, the sound. He buried his face in his father’s throat, disregarding the blood, arms around him as he rocked. The smell of him was the same it had been back when Tek had been that little boy who got a million and one hugs a day from his doting father.
He’d missed the eye contact and the affection, but until now he hadn’t known how much he missed that smell. How much he’d needed that smell. How much that smell used to make him happy. Used to bring him so much comfort.
He cried into his father’s chest, aware he’d lost more than this. More than what he held now in his aching arms. His father was dead.
Jonny.
Why would he want Tek’s father dead?
Tek lifted his head, using his arm to wipe his face. He took a breath and settled his father back in his chair. He removed the glasses, folding them before placing them atop the desk. Hair had fallen into his father’s face. Tek brushed them away then he sank down onto the floor.
He was cold. Freezing. Everything muted, moving slowly. He picked up his phone from the floor, taking in the blood on his fingers but hardly registering. He scrolled through his call logs, and tapped the number he was searching for.
He put the phone to his ear. Only then did his panting register. As if he’d been running.
“Mr. Ng.”
“I’m calling in my markers,” Tek told Agent Hutchins. “All of them. All the favors I’m owed. Now.”
“What do you need?”
“Two body bags and that cleanup crew I know you keep on call.” He gave Dutch the address to his father’s store and another one, Jonny’s place in SWATS a.k.a Southwest Atlanta. “Take your time on that second place.”
“Should I be worried?” Dutch asked.
Tek rose to his feet and stared down at his father’s lifeless body. “You?” Tek chuckled. “Nah.” He disconnected and touched his father’s cheek. Still so warm. Smooth.
Why?
“I’ve been missing you for so many years,” he whispered to the man before him. The man whose dead eyes he stared into. “Been trying, fighting, desperately for you to see me, Bá. For you to see me as your son again. For you to love me again.” The tears would not stop falling. “I never stopped needing you.” He snatched his hand away, fisted it and brought it to his mouth, biting his knuckles. “I will never stop needing you.”
He spun away, phone and gun in hand and walked out the building. His movements felt as if he were doing it under water. Slow. Restricted. Impossible. But he pushed himself, single-minded focus as he took the exit to get onto the highway. He needed to know why Jonny felt it was okay to violate the way he just did, knowing that shit was a suicide mission.
He’d be sure to give Jonny time enough to answer.
He cut the lights off on his Audi three houses down from the ranch style home Jonny rented and walked the rest of the way. He climbed through the neighbor’s yard and crept through the bushes at the back of the house before picking the lock on Jonny’s back door.
He knew the place was occupied since Jonny’s car was in the driveway. And then there was the low hum of words as someone spoke from inside.
Lights were on, but not in the room he now stood, tucked into the small of his back, arms free and loose at his sides. He walked through the house toward that light, and found Jonny on his couch talking on the phone, a beer at his feet, drops of blood on his jeans.
“Yeah, I got you, man. Trust me.” Jonny picked up the beer and swallowed a mouthful, his eyes darting this way and that. “You know me. I stay getting money and we’re about to be in it. I’m saying.” He nodded. “Aight then.” He hung up with a frustrated sigh and tossed the cell onto the couch. “Fucker.”
“Hey, Jonny.” Tek stepped out from where he’d been hiding. The other man jerked backward and before he could get to his feet, Tek remedied that with a bullet to his knee.
Alright, so he didn’t quite hit Jonny’s kneecap as intended but the bullet was still in his foot, so, a win was a win.
“Fuck.” Jonny’s beer crashed to the carpeted floor as he grabbed his left leg and doubled over, yelling. “What the fuck, man?”
“You killed my father.” Tek walked over and leaned over Jonny’s rocking body. “You disappoint me, Jonny. This death wish you got, that a new thing?”
“Oh God. Oh God.” The rank smell of Jonny’s fear was… not unfamiliar. “It wasn’t personal, man. It’s business. I need to make money.”
Tek grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. He smiled down into Jonny’s terrified eyes, so wide. “I’m here with my bare hands around your neck, Jonny. This is personal, wouldn’t you say?”
Jonny’s face went red, got brighter as he struggled, fingers coming up to claw at Tek’s hold. He scratched at Tek, fingernails leaving long, red marks. “Unng. Ung.”
“You’ve never seen me do this, Jonny. So you’re forgiven if you didn’t know how much I love it.” He pulled his knife, stuck it back into Jonny. Not too deep, because plans. Tek had ’em. He bent his head, whispered in Jonny’s ear. “Tell me why you killed my father.”
He dropped his hold and Jonny fell back against the couch, coughing, hacking rough coughs.
Tek licked his lips. “Talk, Jonny.”
“I was supposed to be in charge, not you! I’ve been there for years, dealing with his bullshit, and all of a sudden you marry some bitch and you get to take over? I earned that fucking spot, not you.” Tears ran down Jonny’s red face. “Why—why are you acting like you care that he’s dead? He hated you. All the time I’ve worked for him not once did I see him even look you in the face.” He laughed, Adam’s apple bobbing, highlighting Tek’s fingerprints around his neck. “He didn’t respect you. He showed more respect for those women we buy and sell than you, his own flesh and blood.”
Tek punched him in the face as blood roared in his head. Over and over. He punched and punched and he punched. Until his right arm hurt too much to lift. Until his knuckles were raw and bloodied and likely fucked beyond repair.
Until he had to squint to make out Jonny’s features.
Then he switched up arms, pulled the knife out from where he’d left it in Jonny’s side.
“I’m ambidextrous, Jonny. Most of my kills never get to see this, but for you, I go both ways.” He stabbed Jonny.
Blade in.
Pull out.
Blade in.
Fuck, it was like sex. Stick it in. Pull it out, and all that sticky, wet shit?
He lost himself in it, swimming in the coppery fog as Jonny bled all over him. He kept stabbing while Jonny fought him, legs kicking, arms flailing.
The sound Jonny made, the wet, gasping sounds. Tek bent over him, wiping the blood off Jonny’s face so he could stare into his eyes.
“Let this be a lesson, in the end it doesn’t matter what my father felt or didn’t feel for me.” He patted Jonny’s cheek. “All that will ever matter is what I feel for him. Don’t be assuming shit, Jonny.” He climbed off Jonny, knees protesting. Fuck, but he was not as young as he used to be. “That’s how you end here. Dead.”
But he wasn’t dead yet. He blinked up at Tek, making wheezing sounds.
“Mr. Ng.”
Tek lifted his head. The mirror mounted to the wall behind the couch caught his attention. He cocked his head, and watched. Stared really. The wild eyes. The blood all over that man’s face and neck. Even in his hair.
There was no recognizing the man in the mirror. He had Tek’s eyes. His hair.
“Mr. Ng.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Dutch stood in the doorway, all calm and composed.
Like Tek. He’d never felt so calm. Unless he was high. Was he high?
He held up a blood-soaked finger. “One minute.” He turned back to Jonny. “Later, Jonny.” Tek slit his throat. Nice and neat. Except for all the blood spurting. That could not be avoided.
He got to his feet, unsteady. Blinking at Dutch who watched him way too closely. “What?”
“Are you okay?” Dutch didn’t even glance behind Tek to see what he’d done. “What do you need?”
What did he need? His father? “Oblivion.” He walked past Dutch and out the house, onto the dark street. At the end of Jonny’s driveway he stood, aching arms at his sides. Oblivion. He knew just where to find it too.
He crammed everything inside down, down, down and made his way to the car. He couldn’t go to the Bluffs all dipped in blood.
Not a good look
He drove to his place. Parked in the back. Found he’d lost his keys, so he had to break into his own house. He stripped as he made his way through the house, getting into the shower with a quickness. Red swirled around his ankles, circling the drain. The sight of it jacked everything back up to the top, the pressure blowing the lid off and he found himself flat on his ass, huddled in the corner of his shower, crying.
Why couldn’t he have been enough?
Why had his father taken his love away?
Would he have been this person if he’d had his parents’ love? Would he love death so much if he’d had love and life?
His father was gone, and all the questions Tek had would never be paired with answers. They’d be all lonely. All alone. Like him.
Sugar.
Sugar. He was someone’s sugar. Someone loved him. Someone out there was making plans for him, for them. He wasn’t alone, not from the second he’d locked gazes with Quinn Storm. That man loved him. Trusted him.
And Tek…
Loved him right back. Trusted him right back. So he opened his eyes, blinked water from them. He staggered to his feet, wincing at the creak in his knees. Fuck that getting old shit.
He wanted oblivion. He wanted comfort. He needed to vent, to cry, to hurt. And there was only once place to get that. Only one man to provide that.
He got out of the shower and grabbed the phone, ignoring the towel as he made his way to the bedroom. He called Quinn, and his lover answered on the first ring.
“Sugar.”
The burn in his eyes had him freezing in the middle of the room, had him closing them as he took a breath. “My father was killed tonight.”
Quinn inhaled. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I—I want to forget.” The words wobbled. “I want to rant and rave and shout, and my first thought was the drugs. Finding them, losing myself in them.”
“Tek—”
“But there’s something so much fucking better.” He was sobbing. Why couldn’t he stop? “There’s something so much fucking better than the drugs. There’s you. There’s your arms, and your eyes, and your smile. The things you say and the things you don’t, so…” He blew out a breath. “I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” He heard the love in Quinn’s voice before he said it. “I love you, Xiao Chen.”
Tek stood in front of his closet, pushing the clothes aside to stare at the one dress he’d been brave enough to keep close. “I love you.” He ended the call and yanked the dress, plain, simple, black, from the hanger.
And he put it on. Along with the wig and the heels. And he faced himself
in the mirror. No smile on his face, but he was satisfied with what he saw. He was okay with what stared back at him. And his lover was so much more than okay with it, it blew Tek’s mind. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and walked out the house.
Into the path of a bullet.
The sting stunned him for a second so he stumbled on the bottom of the stairs, a couple feet from his driveway. He frowned, glanced down. No red, just the sticky wetness on the dress, right below his heart.
He lifted a hand, touched the spot as his knees buckled and he went down. Before his head connected with the ground, feet were at his eye level then closer, stomping him to unconsciousness.
****
He came back to himself quickly, knowing he wasn’t where he’d hoped to be when he walked out of his house. Knowing too, that he was hurt.
“You’re awake.”
He froze at the feminine voice, soft, and husky like smoke. He blinked up and saw only the ceiling, He was on a bed, something nice and comfortable. Arms and legs tied as though he was on a cross.
“Hello, Mr. Ng.”
He turned toward her whisper.
She was… stunning. An older woman, skin dark, her hair chopped off until only a shadow remained on her scalp. She was thick, gorgeous, captivating, and so familiar. Her face, her eyes.
“I have to apologize. My men weren’t supposed to hurt you.”
He knew her, but he asked the questions anyway. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Her teeth, big, even, so white they could be fakes, flashed when she smiled then straightened. “I’m Seraphina Cook.”
“Seraphina.” Tek licked his lips. “What do you want with me?”
She shrugged. “I need to see my son. You’re going to make that happen.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Quinn waited for Tek. One hour turned into two which turned into all night. He fell asleep on his couch, right under the window, his phone clasped in his hand, fully dressed. By hour one he’d known something was wrong.