by Alex Kidwell
“That’s all I need.” Redford looked back up at Jed, cradling the muzzle and the collar in his hands. “I think this should be enough to keep you safe.”
A laugh at that, startled and rolling like the waves Redford had once read about in a book. “Oh, sweetheart.” Jed’s teeth flashed in a grin that was more bitter than cheerful, tired and weary and cocky as all hell. “Ain’t nothing or nobody in the world I need to be kept safe from. Fact is, most of the time? It’s the other way around.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Redford mumbled, standing up to take the chains from Jed. He wasn’t surprised when Jed gave him a look and batted his hand away.
“You won’t,” was the reply, short and cut off.
Redford would have liked to believe that, but since Jed didn’t believe that the full moon would turn him into an angry, vicious wolf, he was going to be cautious anyway. It was for the best. “You’ll need to shut Knievel in another room,” he added with a sigh.
“Oh, I see what this is,” Jed huffed as they walked back up the stairs. He firmly shut the door on the basement room. “A plot to see my ass get kicked by a cat. Because if you think she’s going to let me do anything even remotely like shutting her in a room, you obviously haven’t met her. That is what we’d need the cage for. Someplace for me to hide.”
Redford couldn’t help the slight laugh, little more than an amused exhale of breath, but what was more confusing was the simultaneous burn at the back of his eyes. More than anything, he didn’t want to hurt Jed. But how was he going to convince Jed that, tomorrow, he would be a very real and serious danger? What if Jed just thought he was a big, tame wolf and tried to let him go?
“Yes, that’s my big plan,” he said shakily, trying out a smile to conceal everything else he was feeling. They left the house, walking back to the car once Redford had made sure that the front door was locked. There was barely anything to steal in his house, but he wanted to be cautious anyway. “But just to be clear, once I get in these chains, you can’t let me out, okay?”
Rolling his eyes, Jed loaded the chains in the backseat of his car, holding open the passenger side door for Redford to get in. “I’ve done bondage before, babe. Don’t worry, we’ll set up a safe word and everything.”
Okay, clearly Jed was still not taking this seriously. Then again, other than a few glimpses, a handful of moments, it seemed he rarely cared to do so. Those eyes again, green and dark now, sneaking glances over at Redford. Was it worry turning them storm-tossed and quiet? Or something else entirely?
Now holding the muzzle and collar in his lap, Redford idly wondered what Jed had been talking about. “What do you mean by ‘safe word’?” Maybe it was something that would help?
A quick smirk flitted across Jed’s lips, and he settled further into his seat, strong fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. “Let’s say I tie you down,” he said casually, eyes on the road, hands at ten and two, everything a good driver should be doing. “And I’m fucking you so hard you can’t breathe. I’ve got you blindfolded and a cock ring on, and you’re just about ready to burst. A safe word is what we agree on beforehand, so when we get to the part where I’m so deep in you we can’t breathe for how good it is, if you’re scared or you’ve had too much, you say the word, and we stop.” He paused, then grinned slowly. “At least, that’s what I think it’s for. Never used one, myself.”
Redford stared. It was a good thing he wasn’t driving right then, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Jed, torn between complete confusion and that warm tug of arousal in his stomach again. Some of what Jed had just said made no sense—the “cock ring” part, for example. Redford didn’t know what that meant—but all of a sudden all he could think about was the image Jed had just set up.
So much for worrying about tomorrow. All of those thoughts had completely fled Redford’s mind.
“I. Um.” Redford was pretty sure his eyes couldn’t get any wider. He was also pretty sure he’d never been that quickly turned on. Ever. “While that sounds… like something I’d really like to do eventually, your safe word idea wouldn’t work tomorrow night.” Redford paused, fidgeting with the straps of the muzzle. “I—”
“You want to do that?” Jed interrupted him, white-knuckled, voice bottoming out into a rough staccato burst of sound. “And by ‘that’, you mean… what I just said?”
Redford’s thoughts went back to the alley again. It had been so new, that desperate arousal that he’d experienced. Yes, he really would like to experience that again. Jed had just looked so torn afterwards that Redford had assumed it hadn’t been a good idea. “Yes,” he murmured, the lilt at the end of the word making it sound more like a question. “I mean, I—I don’t know what a ‘cock ring’ is, and I don’t see the benefit of being blindfolded, but, yes.”
They’d been traveling at a nice, leisurely pace. Obeying rules of traffic, signaling at intersections, all of that. The second the word yes was in the air though, Jed floored it through a dubiously yellow—probably red—light, leaving tire marks in their wake. At one point, they turned a corner so sharply, Redford was quite sure they were only on two wheels.
The apartment came into view in record time, and Redford slowly relaxed his death grip on the sides of the seat. Jed had turned his head to grin at Redford, looking utterly pleased with himself and like he was halfway to taking off his pants before they’d even reached the garage, when the garbage truck made impact with the side of their Jeep.
It was silent, oddly enough. Just for that moment, for the actual moment of contact, it was utterly still. Then all the sound came rushing back, the crunch of metal, the sprinkling of glass in a graceful spray across their faces. Jed’s arm went out to brace Redford, body twisting, shielding him from the worst of things. Without taking his other hand off the wheel, Jed accelerated, urging the Jeep out of the spin and slamming his brakes to skid them in the opposite direction. They rocked back and forth as the car came to a halt, facing down the smashed-in nose of the truck that had hit them.
“Son of a bitch,” Jed murmured, sounding dazed, blood dripping from cuts across his forehead. He blinked it away though, staring at the other driver. The man didn’t look nearly as startled.
That probably had something to do with the rifle aimed out at them.
Chapter Eight
Jed
“SON of a bitch.” Slamming the Jeep into reverse, Jed skidded them backward, reaching behind him in the same motion to yank out the pistol he carried at the small of his back. Good thing his driver’s side window was gone. Saved him the trouble of having to roll the damn thing down. Leaning out, he started firing, grim and in control even as the Jeep lurched in reverse, winding drunkenly down the street.
The front left wheel was gone. Sparks were flying from where the rim was scraping along the concrete, but Jed just pushed the gas harder and bared his teeth as he sent another two bullets in through the advancing garbage truck’s windshield.
“Get down,” he barked at Redford, sparing half a glance in the rear view mirror. Shit. “Scratch that, get ready to jump out. Three. Two. Move your ass.” With a huge shove, he kicked Redford’s door open and unceremoniously dumped him out onto the pavement. Jamming his foot onto the gas with as much force as he had, he grinned manically at the driver. Fil had clearly sent them a welcome-home present. Jed had to return the favor; it was only polite.
Just before the Jeep impacted the gas pump, Jed jumped out, breath leaving him in a grunt as he rolled. With no time at all to feel the wrench in his shoulder, he was up and moving, running in the opposite direction.
The blast was a lovely thing. He stumbled a little when the edge of it lapped at his heels, but Jed managed to keep moving, only collapsing once he’d dragged Redford into an alley. “Always alleys with you,” he panted, sinking to the ground with a grimace. “I think you have a kink.”
“Was that—” Redford struggled to take a breath, cradling his arm. “Was that one of Fil’s men?”
“Nah,” Jed said, immediately turning his attention to Redford, running his hands along his arm. Goddamn it all, if Red was hurt, he was going to torture this Fil bastard nice and slow, just for the hell of it. “Old boyfriend. Real jealous type. Probably heard that I’m all over this new guy and couldn’t take it anymore.” Nothing seemed to be broken, though Red’s wrist was swollen. Sprained, probably. Which was the good side of bad, all told, and Jed figured their luck was holding for the moment.
Glancing down the alley, Jed bowed his head, both of them trying to catch their breath. Adrenaline was singing through his veins, wired higher than any caffeine rush could dream of. Any second now he’d feel the bruises and the bumps. For the moment, he just tried to gather his thoughts, thinking quickly. Yeah, blowing up half a block probably would get Fil’s attention. Along with half the cops in the county.
“Who’s the new guy?”
Jed looked back at Redford. There was the most adorable pucker between his eyebrows, confusion tugging the corners of his mouth downward. He’d obviously been pondering that for a while.
Without any real planning on his part, Jed’s lips curled up slowly, a genuinely amused smile easing some of the lines he carried on his face. “Oh, he’s real gorgeous. About six foot, brown hair that’s always in his eyes—which, by the way, I can’t decide if those are blue or gray; it’s a real puzzle. Nice arms, lickable abs, and this sexy scar right about… here.” Jed traced his fingers over the scar that started on the bridge of Redford’s nose, eyes caught on the pull of soft skin under his fingertip. “And when he smiles? Well, Red, all I can say is it’s kind of an addictive thing, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” For a moment, Redford clearly didn’t get it. If anything, he frowned a little, and Jed would swear that something like jealousy flickered across his face. Then he blinked and added, “Oh. Me?”
Jed tapped lightly on Red’s nose, feeling almost shy, if that didn’t beat Methuselah back to the grave. “Ding, ding, ding.” Wincing, he forced himself to stand, holding out a hand to help Redford up. “Come on. This place is going to be swarming in a minute. I want to be safe at home and not on any witness lists before then.” Redford used the offered hand to stand, neatly tucking himself in against Jed’s side.
“We lost the chains,” Redford sighed, curling his fingers around the muzzle and the collar that he still held. “We’ll need to find a hardware store.” Clearly in shock, he was not focusing at all on what had just happened. Or maybe he viewed the whole full moon thing as a whole lot more deadly than a homicidal garbage truck and their very own big bang.
“Sweetheart.” Jed stifled a sigh, glancing around them and hurrying them both down the alley. “We just blew up a gas station. Right now, all we need to do is get back to the apartment and lie low.” Whatever the werewolf thing was, Jed didn’t have time to go Dr. Phil about it right then. It was obviously some kind of cover for an abusive childhood. Where, under normal circumstances, Jed could think that without wanting to murder someone, that wasn’t the case with Redford. Jed wanted to find the bitch’s grave, dig her up, kill her again, and then bury her under six tons of shit. Whatever twisted breed Redford’s grandmother had been, hell was too good.
Right then, he needed to focus. Fil had just escalated things. Redford could have been hurt if that truck had been going faster, if the hired thug was a worse shot, if he’d hit Redford instead of his obvious intended target of Jed. Somehow though, Jed couldn’t shake the feeling it was a message. He needed to get out of the picture, or his ass would be garbage. Or… something. He wasn’t really a poetic soul; he just saw the straight line between meddling and death.
Too bad for Fil he was in too deep already.
Letting them into the apartment, Jed did a quick sweep before he would let go of Redford’s arm. Another search was done, this time with a bug detector, the beeps and whistles the only sound until he finished the circuit and collapsed, exhausted, onto the couch. God, he hurt. Every inch of him ached. Worse, he knew he couldn’t rest. Not yet.
After this though, he was definitely taking that vacation. Fishing and beer and forgetting all about bewitching, troubled men with their stormy sea eyes and intoxicating smiles.
Redford sank down to sit next to him on the couch, eyeing the cuts on his forehead. Déjà vu struck; once again Redford was holding a damp cloth, dabbing it gently against his face. “You keep getting hurt because of me,” he said, troubled.
“I keep getting hurt because that’s what I do,” Jed replied easily, reaching up to curl his hand around Redford’s, holding the cloth against his skin and letting his eyes slide shut. “And this was hardly the worst I’ve gotten. This is the job, babe. All I need is to still be standing at the end of the day and I’m happy.” There was an upset-sounding sigh from Redford, and then warmth against his side as the man curled up against him, cheek resting against his shoulder.
“I don’t like it when you get hurt,” Redford said lowly. He didn’t just mean because of car crashes and thugs with handlebar mustaches. They were back to that damn werewolf thing again.
Gritting his teeth, Jed decided to ignore it. That was a good plan, right? The ostrich philosophy. He’d bury his fucking head in the sand, and tomorrow night, when nothing happened, it would all blow over. For the moment, Redford’s wrist was sprained, and that was a much better thing to focus his attention on. Turning slightly, leg bent at the knee and lightly resting against Redford’s hip, Jed examined Redford’s wrist with infinite care. Hands that seemed to have been made for violence, for guns and bombs and punches, now caressed the swollen skin, gently exploring to make sure there were no broken bones.
“I’m going to wrap this for you,” he murmured. “Then we’ll ice it. You’ll be right as rain in a day or so.”
He only left Redford on the couch for a moment, but it seemed far too long without the warmth of him nearby, which was just a ridiculously silly thing to think. Jed tried to banish the ache away somewhere, lock it up and throw the key into some ocean, but when he sprawled himself back out next to the other man, it was still there. He was glad to touch him, even for something like this. What that meant, Jed really didn’t want to examine. A few quick, practiced movements and he had Red’s wrist wrapped snugly, the cold pack from the freezer held around it to keep the swelling down.
“How does that feel?”
“Better.” Redford smiled at him, and his whole stomach jumped up into his throat. “Thank you.”
“You should rest,” he urged quietly. “I’ll try to keep the laborious sounds of me thinking under control while you do.” He wanted to go over a few more things, maybe wake David from whatever sex stupor he was in and get some more info. If he was going to walk into the hornets’ nest tomorrow, he wanted more than just a fly swatter.
Much to Jed’s relief, Redford just curled up on the couch and let his eyes slide shut, tense lines on his face relaxing as he let himself drift. If there had been another discussion, Jed honestly didn’t know if he could handle it. Maybe it was a side effect of living a very solitary life, but he couldn’t imagine how people did this every day, shared decisions and had people that mattered. When Redford had said please, it was like some knot twisted its way into Jed’s gut, and he’d been powerless to do anything but move the moon and the sun for the guy’s pleasure.
Packing took some time. The point wasn’t to turn into a pack mule. The point was to be able to run and jump and fight and all that action hero shit while carrying a very literal arsenal on his back. He had to give up the grenade launcher, much to his disappointment, but he did get in some nice surprises for Fil and his friends. There were even a few things just with Grasio’s name on them. Call it a professional courtesy.
It’d been a couple of days since he’d gotten to sleep. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Jed sat at the table, glaring at the bullets he was sorting because they kept escaping his fingers, but he was fine. Even if his hands did feel like they were connected to his feet for all the good they we
re doing him. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, a surprising bloom of warmth, and Jed looked up to find Red standing there, eyebrow gently quirked upward.
“You should sleep,” Red pointed out quietly, not moving even when Jed dismissed him with a derisive huff of air.
“Sleep is for pussies. I’m just fine, princess. I’m going to get this stuff loaded and then arrange for us to have some new wheels, and then maybe I’ll go out and run a few miles, just because I’m that alert. Caffeine quakes at the sight of me, Red, let me tell you. My blood is too rich for it.” Okay, maybe he was babbling a little bit. And listing into Redford’s side. Damn it. “Maybe a quick nap,” he relented with a sigh, traitorous eyes trying desperately to close. “Twenty minutes. Power nap. Get the juices flowing.”
Redford just snorted, and Jed was vaguely aware of Redford’s hands closing around his upper arms, guiding him up out of the chair. He was being walked toward the bed, and Jed figured he’d just go with it. Just to make Redford feel better. He didn’t need sleep, obviously. He was a freight train. A big, manly freight train, that was what.
“Fucking freight train,” he mumbled, ducking out of his shirt and leaving his jeans behind in a puddle around his ankles, hindered by his boots’ foul plot to keep him clothed. “Manly fucking freight train, Fido. That’s me.” Collapsing face down on the bed, sprawled out and buried into a pillow, he tried for a cocky grin and wound up just making a half-asleep snort of sorts. “Know why?”