by Avril Ashton
Elias licked his lips and met Quinn’s gaze. “That was Stavros. He has Tek.”
Quinn slumped against the doorway. Thank God. Thank God. “Let’s go get him.” He turned away and Elias grabbed his hand, holding him still.
“I don’t think you should come. It’s not—”
“Yeah. I’m coming.” He raced upstairs to put on his sneakers and stopped when his gun caught his eye. Tek had given it to him the night he disappeared. Quinn snatched it up and tucked it into his waistband. He didn’t know this Stavros guy, but he knew he wasn’t to be trusted.
Quinn was trusting no one when it came to Tek.
They rode in silence. All of them except Lucky who Elias refused to allow to follow them into danger. The house Stavros was staying in was about an hour away, tucked far from prying eyes. Quinn didn’t want to think about why that would be. When they arrived they got out and Elias knocked on the door.
A tall, gorgeous man opened the door, his expression serious. He took one look at Elias and waved them inside. The first thing Quinn spotted was Tek curled up on the couch. Stavros walked over to him and touched his hair then caressed his cheek with the back of one finger.
“Don’t touch him,” he snarled. He pushed his way forward and strode over.
“Quinn?” Tek’s head came up, eyes heavy with sleep and pain. “Quinn.” The joy in his eyes were… heart stopping.
“You must be Quinn.” Stavros smirked. “Heard about you.”
Quinn dropped to his knees and cupped Tek’s cheek. “Sugar. You worried me.”
“Long story.” Tek sighed. “Fucking long story, but I’m here. With you.”
Quinn pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
“He has a gunshot wound,” Stavros said above his head. “I’ll keep him with me until he’s healed up.”
“Hell no.” Quinn jumped to his feet. “Tek is coming home with me.”
“Is he?” Stavros turned an indulgent gaze to Quinn. “You think you have what he needs?”
“Stav—”
Quinn cut off Elias’ words. “I know about the agreement you and Tek had.” He sidled close to the Greek. “You can consider it terminated.”
Stavros laughed. “You’re so innocent, aren’t you? Tek can’t leave. We have a new bargain.”
“You can try to keep him.” Quinn knelt. “Sugar, let’s go home.”
Tek took his hand and got to his feet. He was filthy, the dress he wore bloodied. Grime on his face, a bandage over his chest and shoulder. His feet were bare, but Quinn spotted his heels nearby. He picked them up as Elias and Israel helped Tek walk to the door.
“Did you know he whispers in his sleep?”
Quinn froze at Stavros question. “What?” He faced the man and found him with a smirk on his face and a devious glint in his eye.
“All the years I’ve been fucking him, do you want to know whose name he whispers in his sleep?”
Israel released Tek and approached Stavros. “Shut your mouth before I do it for you.”
Stavros just grinned, ignoring Israel, gaze on Quinn. “Go ahead.” His gaze flicked to where Elias and Tek stood. “Ask me whose name he whispers when the needle pierces his skin and the drug hits his veins. Is it mine? Yours?”
Quinn smiled. “You sound jealous. Why? Because despite your best efforts, you can’t control him? Because despite the drugs, you can’t hold on to him?” He stepped into Stavros’ space. “I don’t care who you are, how many men you have at your beck and call, you fuck with Tek you fuck with me, and I will shoot you.”
Stavros threw his head back and laughed. “I like it. The substitute threatening me. Because you know you’re a substitute for what he could never have, yes?” He stared only at Elias right then.
Tek went up to Stavros. “Don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him. Because I know where your fucking bodies are buried and I’ll have way too much fun putting you in the ground right next to them.” He turned back to Quinn, wobbling on his feet. “My relationship is off limits.”
“You’re jealous.” Quinn peered into Stavros’ eyes. “All of them have someone who loves them, who’ll battle to the death for them. Can you say the same?” He shook his head. “I’m aware of where I stand with my man, and I have no worries.” He spun away and walked over to Elias, grasping Tek’s other hand.
Elias and Israel stayed behind in the house. Quinn didn’t know why and he didn’t care. Tek leaned heavily on him as they walked to the car.
Tek stumbled in his heels as he muttered, “Your name.”
“Huh?”
Tek leaned against the vehicle, the heavy rain plastering his hair to his forehead, making the makeup run down his face in dark streaks. “I whisper your name.”
“No.” Quinn shook his head. “I don’t need to know.” Because he didn’t. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Quinn.” Tek grabbed Quinn’s face with both hands, holding his gaze. His eyes were fierce, bright. Filled with wonder. “Your name, I whisper it,” he said, almost sounded bewildered. “I moan it. I-I taste it—you—in my sleep. I have since the very first day we met.”
Quinn laughed and kissed him. He meant to just brush his lips over Tek’s, but his lover opened under the touch, giving Quinn his tongue. Quinn sucked him down, pulled on him hard, moaning at his taste.
“Straight to my head,” he murmured. “You go straight to my head, sugar.”
“I’m yours,” Tek said softly. He cupped Quinn’s nape, shuddered against him. “All of me. Yours.”
“I know.” Quinn kissed his nose. “Because I am yours. Come.” He shifted away to link their fingers. “You can tell me what the hell happened when we get home.”
“I am home.” But Tek opened the vehicle door anyway. He glanced over his shoulder at Quinn. “Wherever you are is my home.”
Quinn kissed his nape, tasted his shivers. “I love you.”
****
Quinn squeezed the fingers he held in his grip. “Okay?”
Dark eyes flew to his and stayed as Tek nodded. They sat in the car, Tek behind the wheel, outside of the dry cleaners he and his mother owned. Mrs. Ng had been silent. Tek had to tell her about her husband’s death over the phone. She’d barely made a sound.
He’d had to tell her about her husband threatening to kill her and blackmailing Tek. She’d had nothing to say. Her son had offered to bring the body to New York for burial. She’d spoken up then, in rapid Mandarin that Tek had translated later.
No to the New York burial. No to her attending any funeral.
So Quinn had been the one at Tek’s side, along with Israel and Elias and their partners as Tony Ng had been cremated, his ashes scattered far and wide. Quinn had been the one to hold his lover as Tek fell apart, questioning himself and his existence because of the parents he’d been given. Quinn had been there through it all, hating those two people who’d tortured their son like the Ngs did.
Now, they were here. Because Tek wanted to introduce Quinn to his mother. Something Quinn would have never suggested. Tek wanted to do it, and he’d deny his man nothing. Which was why they were there and Quinn was once again questioning Tek’s well-being.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “We can just go straight to Israel’s place.” They had a meet up with all the guys who were having a get together for Xavier and Dima whose wedding was days away.
Quinn looked forward to it. To some happiness and laughter. After everything that went down recently, they were due some lighthearted shit.
Tek took a breath and blew it out. “Let’s do this.” He climbed out the car and Quinn followed closely behind him. He wore a neon-green tank top, and tight black jeans tucked into black ankle boots. He wore makeup, tastefully done, but Quinn didn’t care if he walked out the house fully beat, as Tek had put it. He simply wanted his lover to be who he was. To be comfortable in his skin and to meet his gaze in the mirror without flinching.
One step at a time, but Tek was slowly getting there, and Quin
n was right behind him, offering his support. Hell, he’d been the one to buy the shoes from the store next to their psychiatrist’s office. The surprise on Tek’s face had been priceless. They saw Colville separately and as a couple, and so far it seemed to be working.
Tek continued the smuggling business, something both of them hated with the fire of a thousand suns, but Tek wanted to get as many smugglers as possible locked up. So he worked with Renzo Vega and the FBI, and Quinn did his best to understand and be supportive. Hell, Tek backed him up when Quinn decided to put everything on hold to focus on getting his mental self together. Job hunting was on the back burner for now.
As they stepped into the dry cleaners, the woman behind the bullet proof glass lifted her head up and froze. Her face went blank.
Tek began speaking in Mandarin then gesturing to Quinn before he switched to English. “Quinn, this is my mother.”
He nodded at her. Her gaze flicked from Tek to Quinn and back.
“This is my partner, Quinn.”
She stared at Tek until the silence became oppressive. Then she faced Quinn. “Hello.”
She spoke. And it wasn’t angry or put out either. Tek grasped Quinn’s hand.
“Hello.”
She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, so Quinn gave her a smile in return.
“Do you need anything?” Tek asked her.
She shook her head. “All is good.”
“Are you—”
“Cross my heart promise.” And she bent her head, focusing on her paper, completely unaware of what she’d just given her son.
And Quinn.
****
They sat in the silence of a hot hotel room as the sun went down over Atlanta. Tek and Israel, Reggie outside the door, Elias in the parking lot.
Opposite Tek and Israel now?
Seraphina Cook.
She’d called his phone two nights ago, looking for Tek to make good on that promise he’d made. Lucky for her, he’d made sure to tell Israel to expect it. Though reluctant to be a part of this, his friend had agreed, if only to get it over with. But Tek knew Israel, he knew despite the denials and tough talk that the man next to him wanted to know.
Needed to know.
So he’d come.
And she’d been there waiting.
Three minutes and no one had spoken one word. Seraphina stared at Israel, almost star-struck. For his part, Israel sat knees apart, one hand on his thigh, the other elbow on the arm of the chair. He rubbed his chin with lazy strokes, a bored expression on his face.
“Colin.” Seraphina finally spoke, her one word soft but full. Filled with anger and anguish, tears and sorrow. None of which showed on her face.
“What?” Israel cocked his head slightly.
She leaned forward, her posture reaching for him when her hands remained in her lap. She didn’t look anything like the woman who’d been at war with the Feds, who was in hiding and on the run right now. In that moment she looked the way Tek always wanted his mother to look, the expression on her face one of haunted love.
“I named you Colin,” Seraphina said. “I named you when they put you in my arms for the very first time, your tiny legs kicking, arms flailing. Crying, defiant, glaring up at me with the eyes of the man I hated so much. I named you Colin, because I wanted you. And I loved you.”
Maybe because he knew Israel so well, or because they sat so close together, but Tek felt the impact as those words hit his friend dead center. He glanced to his right, watching as Israel’s face contorted, his throat working.
“I don’t want to hear this.” Israel jumped to his feet, and Seraphina did the same, reaching him in two strides, touching his shoulder. He jerked away.
“I wanted you.” Her voice broke. “I wanted my son. He took you, told them I didn’t want you. Told them to give you away. He took you from me.”
Tek stopped in his tracks. This shit just kept getting better, didn’t it? And more convoluted.
“Please.” She lifted her hand away from Israel then touched him again, tentative, gently stroking his shoulder. “Please, hear me out.”
Israel held himself still, face like granite, but his eyes were tumultuous. Obviously he didn’t want to hear what the woman who gave birth to him had to say, but he didn’t leave. He didn’t move. “Talk.”
“Christopher, my husband, found out about my affair with Mark Dulles. He insisted we go to Jamaica, and the night I gave birth to you, he stole you away. Told me he’d given you to someone who could give you a better life.”
Israel scoffed. “You know, the soap opera shit is played out. So you gave me away. That’s fine.” He shrugged. “Back then it would have mattered, but not now. I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him as he turned away. “I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed to feel loved, or comforted, or reassured that you belong to someone. To me.” She touched her chest. “You belonged to me, and not a day went by that I didn’t miss you.”
Israel grabbed the doorknob.
“Colin.” The tears in her eyes finally spilled down her cheeks. “Colin, I’m so sorry.” She slapped at the tears on her cheeks as she went to him. “Forgive me.”
Tek wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His heart shattered for himself, and for Israel and Seraphina. So much loss. So many wasted years. Seraphina didn’t touch Israel, but she stood at his back, a trembling hand held out to him.
A hand Israel didn’t see, because he had his head down.
“I hit the jackpot, didn’t I?” Israel swung around suddenly, causing Seraphina to stumble back a few steps. His eyes were red, expression pained. “I wished for a long time that I hadn’t been brought into this world. My example of what and who a woman should be was one who stole a baby and slaughtered her own family, did you know that?”
Seraphina nodded.
“I’m not over it, but I’ve managed to move on despite it, and now here you are, making me wish all over again.”
“I wanted you to know.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe I didn’t have to know. Maybe I was better off never knowing who you were.”
Not for the first time, Tek kicked himself for making that bargain with Seraphina. All he’d done was bring misery to his friend’s life. As quickly as his anger at Israel for ambushing Tek and Quinn in New York had come on, so it had disappeared. All forgiven, water under the bridge. At the end of the day, they were family. And Israel had been right there when Tek and Quinn needed him.
Now, Tek had to be there for his friend.
“Nothing you’ve done so far has shown me you’re any different than the woman who raised me,” Israel said hoarsely. “You shot and kidnapped my friend, and you almost killed my brother.”
Seraphina narrowed her gaze. “So you’re claiming Donovan—Mark’s son—as your brother?”
“We share the DNA, don’t we?” Israel rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, your conscience is clear. We met, you said your piece. We don’t ever have to see each other again.”
“I’m your mother. I will never stop worrying about you.”
A brittle laugh sounded as Israel turned away. “Good on you.” He opened the door and nodded at Reggie, who stood there, gaze curious. “Go after my family again, by blood and relation, and I’ll come at your neck.” He was in Reggie’s arms before the door closed behind him.
Tek dropped back into his chair. Seraphina remained standing in the middle of the room, staring at the door, tears glistening on her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For giving me this.” She met Tek’s gaze. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Dulles is about to announce his bid for the presidency, and he’ll be cleaning house. His image does not include a son from an affair or a mistress like me. He has deep pockets and a very long reach.”
Which explained why she seemed to scoff at the Feds, but hid from the senator.
“I won’t let him hurt our son
. No matter the cost.”
“Listen to Israel,” Tek told her. “Don’t make him have to go through what he went through before. It will destroy him.” He stood. “And I will destroy you.”
The four of them, Tek and Quinn, Israel and Reggie, spent the evening at Quinn’s house in relative quiet after Elias left to go home to his family. The day before, they’d attended Xavier and Dima’s wedding at their house in Scarsdale. Now the two were honeymooning at a secret location. Maybe it should have been weird to be there with his lover, watching Quinn’s ex get remarried. But he’d sat in the front row, wearing a dress.
Heels. Hair and nails on point.
His face made up.
With Quinn’s fingers all wrapped around his, tugging on him, squeezing him. And he hadn’t once felt weird, or stared at or ill at ease. He’d been happy. He’d glanced up to find Quinn’s gaze on him, his eyes shining.
His lover had been happy.
So there’d been no room for hard feelings. No room for regrets. Just enough space to celebrate two men getting hitched. He and Quinn had their own private celebration later, upstairs in one of the rooms in the Zhirkov-Storm mansion, his panties caught in the heel of one of his stilettos, the dress flipped up to expose his ass and lower back, and Quinn’s fist in his hair.
Happiness.
Now, he hugged Quinn to him as they stood in the kitchen, getting beers from the fridge. Reggie and Israel were shouting at the TV in the living room as they played some kind of video game.
“Mmm.” Quinn kissed him, mouth on Tek’s, hands in his hair.
Tek hugged him with a beer in each hand, opening for him, their tongues touching, flicking. He closed his eyes, taking it in, living in it. They kissed with Tek trapped between the counter and Quinn. Not that he wanted to escape.
Nah. He was where he was supposed to be. “I love you,” he murmured.
Quinn chuckled and nipped his lip. “Love you, sugar.”
His phone went off. He pulled away from Quinn reluctantly and snatched up the cell from the counter.
Dutch.
“Yeah.” He heard Israel’s phone ring in the next room.
“We got a problem.”