by Nicole Fox
I just kept shaking my head, my teeth grinding away.
“There's just not enough there,” Claire explained. “We send that to a judge for a warrant to search his holdings, or even to get just a wiretap, we'll get laughed right out. The US Attorney's office won't take less than a complete admission by Volkov. You knew that going in, Koen.”
“Goddammit!” Koen shouted, pounding his fist on the desk he was pulled up next to. He bit his knuckle violently, his eyes wild.
Koen had thrown his life away for me. But I'd thrown away the last chance I had to kill Aleksey.
Children around, or not, I could have just taken the shot. The Russian's motherfucker's bodyguards couldn't have done shit to stop me. It would have just been pop-pop, you're dead. I looked up at Agent McKesson and caught her staring at me. “What else can we do?” I asked. “I want this fucker, Claire.”
“We?” she asked, shaking her head before leaning forward. “We don't do anything, Jace. You guys are out of it, at least for a while. The other agents and I will see what else can be done, though.”
And, with that, we were out of the loop. Koen and I rode home together, our bodies as tense as our minds. If I only hadn't stuck my nose into this, we would have been fine. If Fed had gone along instead of me, Aleksey wouldn't have been the wiser in any way.
This was my fault.
I'd blown my chance.
We were out of it for good.
At least, though, I got to keep Koen. That by itself was almost enough to soothe any wound.
Koen's phone buzzed as we pulled into the garage. He pulled the phone out, showed me that it was Claire McKesson calling already, then answered. “Yeah?”
“What?” Koen asked, his voice sounding confused and distant. “Why? Why would they do that?”
Koen paused, listening to whatever it was she had to say.
“Alright,” he said, his face downcast. “We're on our way.”
“What's going on?” I asked as he turned the bike right back around and he went to start it up. “What's wrong, babe?”
“Grandpa Xaiver,” he said. “He's dead, baby.”
Chapter Thirty
Koen
I ran a hand down my face, pulling at my cheeks and dragging out my lower lip. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried, the last time I'd felt this much anguish and pain. My last living family member was gone, leaving a hole in my guts like I'd never imagined.
Gator had died just a few years ago. But, well, Gator had been an asshole. He wasn't half the father to me that Grandpa was. I don't even think I cried over Gator, to be honest. Maybe I did, once, when I was alone. But it was just a few tears shed after a bottle of Jack had worn my defenses down.
But now, as I stared down at the demolished face of my grandpa and simply nodded to identify him for the FBI, I realized what Jace had been feeling for all these weeks.
I turned around and walked back outside to rejoin Jace.
“You okay?” Jace asked as I came up to her. She threw her arms around my neck, hugging her small body against mine. It was a small comfort but, as I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer, it was better than I deserved.
After all, I'd just gotten my Grandpa killed. I felt the tears begin to build up behind my eyes, and blinked them away. I couldn't let anyone see me like this, even if it was over Xavier.
Business-like flats clicked on the sidewalk behind me. “Whoever killed him left a note,” Agent McKesson said to my back. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you're a dead man.”
I released Jace and turned around to face the FBI agent. “Can't you bring this fucker in on killing one of your own?” I asked. “I mean, I've seen guys get brought down for way less than this shit.”
“Those guys weren't connected the way Aleksey is, Koen,” Claire said, taking a step closer. “This is the biggest of the baddest, right here. We never told you this was going to be easy. Your grandfather knew it, too.”
“But,” Jace started as her hand reached down to find mine, “you've gotta be able to do something, Claire. I mean, shootings in parks, killing retired agents. What's next for this guy?”
The agent shook her head, her lips pursed tight, her brow furrowed. “We're working on it. Best we can do right now is put you two in Witpro, like we discussed. Clearly, this guy knows who you are, and he thinks you've got dirt on him.”
“Fine,” Jace said, squeezing my hand tightly. “If we've gotta go into hiding, I'm fine with that. We'll do whatever you need us to do.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, squeezing her hand right back as I nodded at the agent. “Whatever you need, Claire.”
“About that . . .” Claire began, then trailed off. “My biggest concern right now is that you two are going to stick out if you're together, no matter where we put you. And, believe me, Volkov's got people all over.”
She'd said “together” with emphasis. I started shaking my head already, not liking where this was going.
“Together?” Jace asked, practically reading my mind. “What the fuck, Claire?”
“If I put you both under, they're going to find you no problem. We can't hide you both, you're too obvious.”
“Claire,” I said, “we were supposed to go together. That was the only way we agreed to this.”
“Look,” the FBI agent said, her voice harsh as she dropped all the decorum I'd begun to expect, “this guy just sicced a biker gang on you in a public park, then killed your grandfather when they didn't get the job done. Do you really fucking think he's just going to let this blow over, like he'll fucking forget about you or some shit?”
“No,” I started, thinking about what I would have done in his shoes. I was going to say something else, but she was already continuing on, cutting me off.
“Men like this keep out of prison by tying up loose ends, Koen. And you two are some of the loosest goddamned ends I've ever seen.” Claire pointed back behind her at my grandpa's now empty house. “Now, do you want your girlfriend to end up like Xavier, but at the bottom of a bayou with her head cut off and her hands missing? Or do you want to keep your asses alive by doing what I say?”
I took a deep breath and looked down at Jace for her input. I squeezed her hand and she looked up at me, our eyes locking.
I thought I could see the hurt in her eyes, the pain at how fucked up this all was. We were supposed to be doing this so we could be together, away from our dark pasts. But where had that gotten us? Now, we were just running from it, but in different directions from one another.
# # #
Jace
This was all just too much. First my mom, then having to run. Follow that with hooking, Tomlin dying. Now, after I'd turned away from killing Aleksey and run into the arms of Koen, this shit happened.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't give him up, too. It was bad enough that I'd practically lost Benji already, and that we'd have to leave Fed behind when we ran.
But, to run separate, that was just the icing on this shit-cake life was feeding me.
“Come on,” Koen said, touching my face and squeezing my hand, “we've got to. I need you safe, and they think we'll be better off split up.”
“Fuck 'em,” I replied, smiling as I shrugged a little, trying to keep up a brave front.
Beneath that facade, though, my insides were crumbling like one of the old mausoleums outside New Orleans. All the death, all the mistakes we'd made. Death, at this point, would be an escape from the constant disappointments of life. I mean, what else did I have if Koen was taken from me, too?
“I can't lose you, too,” he whispered. “Not you and Grandpa, both.”
God, he really did love me. It took me a moment to let that sink in. He loved me, an ex-whore from bumfuck nowhere. And, now, he was getting taken away by Aleksey and the FBI, all because I showed up at the meet when I shouldn't have.
Something inside me almost broke at that moment, I think. Some little piece of me that had been strong enough to hold out against the w
orld all by itself. Because I'll be damned if I didn't love him right back, even if I couldn't get my mouth to shape the words.
Despite not being able to speak them, I felt them in my chest. A warm, soft glow that seemed to fill me up from the inside. There was a soft, whispering voice in my heart that told me his living was what mattered. That I'd be able to live my life as long as I knew he was out there still stomping the earth.
I smiled a little, wiped away a tear that threatened to run down my cheek. “Okay,” I choked out, my voice tight. I nodded again. “Okay, yeah. Let's do it.”
He turned back to Agent McKesson. “Alright,” he said, “we'll split up.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Koen
After what had happened with Grandpa, they wouldn't let me go home. Claire explained it was too dangerous, even to go for a moment. There were simply too many ways we could pick up a tail, or even have someone try to make a hit on us with an escort from an agent.
Instead, the FBI put us up in a motel that night, one way out in the boonies with a vibrating bed in every room. With its shitty paint job, dim lights, and ugly furniture, the place didn't exactly do much to improve my sense of well-being.
In the morning, Jace and I would be split up and sent our separate ways. Her to one side of the country, me to another, with no way of contacting the other. This was the way it had to be, McKesson explained. Otherwise, Aleksey and his people could find us.
Now, Jace and I lay naked beneath the covers in the dim light of the lamp, the cheap motel sheets scratching at our skin, but our bodies as warm and smooth as ever against each other. We didn't even bother turning the TV on to see if there was any news about Xavier. Even if there was, it wouldn't be the whole story. Who would run with that, anyways? The A/C blew cold, giving us some white noise for background. Other than that, we just kept to the silence of our own thoughts.
“I'm going to miss you,” I whispered to her in the dimness after a little while had passed.
“I'm going to miss you, too, babe,” she whispered back.
Neither of us, it seemed, wanted to disturb the quiet. Instead of speaking with our mouths, we let our bodies do the talking.
I leaned down, kissed her fully and warmly, her lips bittersweet and forlorn against mine.
We held one another as we kissed, our breathing heavy and resigned. Her small hands moved across my chest, her nails scratched down my arms and raked deep across my back like she was marking me.
I bit her neck, kissed her shoulders, sucked a pert nipple into my mouth.
She was so soft below my hands, so small, so frightened against the loneliness of the future.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, desperate it seemed as she pulled me back up to her lips.
This was it, we both knew without even saying a word. This was our last night together, even though we both knew we were meant to be each other's forever.
“Please, Koen,” she whispered, her hand encircling my manhood, “I just want you to love me tonight.”
# # #
Jace
My life hadn't been easy. First I had a single mother, then an abusive stepfather, then a life working the streets and making my money in bed. The last few weeks were the first time I'd ever been close to happy, or free to do with my time as I'd wanted. I hadn't had to worry about some John freaking out on me, or asking me to do something gross I wouldn't ever think of doing.
And now, as Koen's burning lips left trails of lust over my body, I realized how much I was losing with him leaving me.
“Just love me,” I whispered again, his warm hardness filling my hand like they nothing I'd ever experienced.
With our bodies still entwined like some modern piece of bizarre sculpture, he slid into me, his cock filling me like it was the only one in the world for me.
I cried out softly as I felt completed for the first time in forever. Every movement he made sent waves crashing through me, and I moved back against his body as we continued to kiss like these were the last kisses we'd ever exchange.
Because they were, and we knew it.
As wonderful as I felt right then, with my body shaking and shivering as we moved against one another between the sheets, I knew this was it. As his teeth flashed against my neck, lightly biting me again, as my nails scratched at his side, as his hard chest crushed my tits against me. I knew it was over.
This was the last we'd see each other.
I ground my hips against him, the razor-sharp pain blunting with the pleasure he was giving me.
With my arms tightly around him, holding him closer than I'd held anyone in my life, he began to speed up, his hips moving my whole body with each stroke. “Koen,” I half-whispered, half-groaned into his ear. “God, I love you,” I admitted finally after all our times in bed together.
He kissed me again and slid deeper inside. I cried out into his mouth, groaning as he continued those glorious rolls with his hips.
“I love you, too, Jace,” he whispered back.
“I'm cumming,” I whispered as my body tensed and shook beneath his. My eyes rolled back in my head, my mouth opened, and I groaned it out again. “Oh, God, Koen. I love you so much.”
We were still laying under the covers some time later. We were still pressed together, entwined like only two lovers can entwine.
The sadness had come back over me, again. It seemed sex could only push it so far when the loss was this huge and all-encompassing.
This was my last night with this man. This was my last night of relative happiness, and joy, and love. I didn't even have revenge to keep my fires alive, anymore.
There wasn't anything left for either of us. Certainly not me.
Finally, I drifted off to sleep. Dreams and fantasies filled my mind. Dreams of Koen and Xavier and Tomlin all getting to meet each other, of the five of us cooking out on the back deck at Xavier's house. I knew it would never happen, never in a billion years. But the moving images in my brain felt so real, so true, so possible. Which, in the end, only made them the more painful to experience.
I woke up the next morning with the tears still wet on my face.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Koen
I woke up at seven in the morning every day so I could come here, to this used car lot in middle-of-goddamn-nowhere Indiana, and try to move used cars. I'd been doing it for the last three months, ever since Jace and I had left New Orleans.
Wherever she was now, I just hoped she was having a better time of it than me.
Now, Billy Lyons was sitting here, asking me about whether or not he should ask out the new receptionist, see if she wanted to go grab a drink with him after work on Friday. And all I wanted to do was eat my burger, finish the next chapter of the book I was reading, and get back to work to finish out this day.
“Come on, Peter,” Billy said, slapping my shoulder with the back of his hand, “gimme some hints here, brother. Gimme some tips, or let me like, rub your head or something and get some of that lover-boy charm of yours.”
That was me. Peter O'Dwyer. Born in Washington, moved out here after high school. I'd been told by Claire McKesson to not make any friends, form any long-term attachments, or let anyone get too close, or too suspicious.
“Talk less about yourself, less about politics, or anything else,” she advised. “Your job is to stay insignificant. Eat most of your meals at home. Don't go to bars, don't get drunk.”
“So, don't have fun,” I suggested.
“Exactly. You're hiding in fear of your life, not going on vacation.”
I blinked slowly as I looked into Billy's eyes. “I got no idea what you're talking about, man. I haven't been laid in months.”
Billy rolled his eyes and guffawed an awful, braying laugh. “Ha, right, dude,” he said, braying again. “I've seen the way those MILFs look at you, dog, at the way they get their husband to even go for the clear coat.”
“That's because the clear coat protects your paint job, Billy.”
He
brayed out another laugh. “Right, man, right,” he said, slapping my upper arm again.
It's a funny thing when you're playing roles. If you act a certain way long enough, like really put your mind to becoming that thing, sometimes it sticks and you start to think it's not just a role. Maybe because it wasn't anymore.
I'd followed Claire's advice, had kept my own personality down. I listened more than I'd used to, kept my mouth shut twice as often as I ever had, and tried to just be all around more humble and not accept a single bit of credit.