by Cara Dee
Darius shook his head. “Nah.” The sheltered area was small enough, and the vegetation around them swayed in the wind as if trying to swallow the spot whole. A tree fern gave him a chuckle and convinced Gray when its branched stems whipped him softly in the face.
Gray huffed and pushed the greenery away, then got comfortable next to Darius, who offered his arm.
That drew a smile from the knucklehead, and he positioned his head on Darius’s shoulder.
“I’m actually not that tired,” Gray murmured.
Yet, when Darius yawned, it triggered one of Gray’s too.
“Automatic reaction!” he defended with a tired chuckle.
Darius grinned faintly and closed his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.
A blanket of temporary peace covered him, and it allowed him to relax and drift away. Gray was with him and, in the meantime, Ryan was in charge at the camp. The man Darius trusted more than anyone else in the world.
The low wash of the waves rolling in lulled him further away, away from worries, away from the sight of dead boys.
It reminded him of the moment he and Gray had shared on the yacht, fucking for comfort, for a brief break where they were somewhere else. Just the two of them.
It’d been unlike anything he’d experienced before. He’d never felt the need to…for lack of a better word, cope that way. He’d always managed to lock away his emotions for a time when he could afford to deal with them. However poorly he’d done it.
“We’ve missed Christmas, haven’t we?” Gray whispered.
Darius tightened his hold automatically and let out a long breath. “Technically, no. Today is Christmas Day.”
“Oh…”
There wasn’t anything to say. Not that Darius could think of. If he were home, the landscape would look a lot different. He’d get up early, look out the window and see snow, and he’d brew some coffee while he waited for the world to wake up. Family would call. Ma would send countless reminders not to be late for dinner, Willow would leave their family text chat because everyone was talking a mile a minute, Elise—who was always in charge of treats and baked goods—would double-check everyone’s requests, and Lias would butt in with something like, “The health freak probably wants an algae shot instead,” referring to Ethan. In turn, Ethan would threaten to have everyone’s memberships revoked at his gym.
Darius would sit there on his couch, sip his coffee, and watch the texts pop up.
This would’ve been his first Christmas in his new house…
Fuck, he could just envision the snowcapped mountains outside the window.
“My mom must be worried sick,” Gray mumbled.
Darius hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Willow will have found a way to reassure her some. I don’t know what she’s up to right now, but I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as good at risk assessment as she is without years of training. If she worried we couldn’t figure this out on our own, she would’ve forgone the plan and sent in the authorities by now.”
Tension eased up in Gray’s shoulders. “I understand. Do…do you really believe we’re going home?”
“Without an ounce of doubt, knucklehead. Won’t be long now.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Nine
“It’s time to wake up, Gray.”
“No…” The kid burrowed in good and proper, forehead to Darius’s chest, legs tangled. “How can you even know? How can you wake up?” He continued grumbling. “You haven’t gotten much sleep in days.”
Darius chuckled under his breath and brushed his fingers across Gray’s back. “I have a good internal clock, but—”
“Bullshit, that’s a myth.”
Darius let out a laugh. “It’s not. But what I was gonna say was, most of all, our feet were in the shade earlier.”
Gray grunted and detangled himself to sit up, and he squinted sleepily at the trees above. The sun stood high, painting Gray’s face with sunlight spots.
The sight tightened a vise around Darius’s chest. He remembered the pictures he’d seen of Gray. A happy, carefree college kid with an infectious grin. Often making faces or laughing. A young man with his whole life ahead of him.
He still had a whole life to look forward to, but he was going to come at it from another angle. Now he was facing uphill battles against an enemy that lived in his head. PTSD was a given. Flashbacks, nightmares, and high anxiety would haunt him for years to come. He’d lost weight and was decorated with scars. Most of them were faint and would disappear over time, but it didn’t matter. The deepest cuts were internal.
The protector in Darius roared to life at the same time as he wanted to kill anyone who’d hurt this young man.
“So…” Gray lowered his chin and scratched his scruffy cheek. “What do you want for Christmas?”
Give me your trauma.
Darius cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up. “I won’t say no to some more papaya if there is any left.”
Gray’s eyes lit up for one precious second. “You’re in luck, Dare.”
Darius smirked and looked away, pretending to check the horizon.
Would he ever figure out what it was with this kid? Why he was so dependent on Gray’s happiness? Why, of all the people he’d brought to safety over the years, this one stood out so much? Furthermore, would he ever find out why there seemed to be a direct link between Gray’s moods and his own? If Gray was angry, Darius looked for the one who’d pissed him off. If Gray was lost, the world turned into a dark place. Too dark even for Darius.
It made no sense whatsoever.
Gray unfolded the plastic wrap with leftover papaya and held it up.
“Thanks.” Darius took a few pieces and threw one into his mouth. The exotic flavor exploded on his tongue, and he chewed another one before he spoke again. “You eat the rest.”
“All right.”
Darius found himself watching Gray’s every move. How he put the fruit into his mouth, how his jaw moved when he chewed, how he reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then how he, with the next bite, licked the corner of his lips to catch a trickle of juice.
“Sand…frickin’ everywhere,” Gray muttered, wiping his hands on his thighs. Then he stared at his hands and grimaced. Maybe sensing the fine grains invisible to the eye.
“Use my jeans.” Darius planted his right leg closer, amused.
“I’ll wash them later.” Gray didn’t waste a second. He used the rougher fabric as a towel and seemed satisfied.
It brought him closer to Darius, who couldn’t for the life of him stop staring. Frustration built up rapidly. He didn’t know why, only that it ate him up. “Hey.” His voice came out thicker. Gray stopped what he was doing and looked up curiously, and that, right there…fuck. Darius’s gaze flickered between Gray’s eyes, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, barely there freckles, healing bruises and cuts, his mouth, back to his eyes. He got stuck there.
“What?” Gray’s eyes were fucking expressive today. Opposite of last night when the deep void had given Darius a hollow feeling in his stomach. Now he could see innocent interest, a pinch of nervousness, and confusion.
Darius wouldn’t break the gaze. Urgency joined the frustration, and he quit thinking. He leaned in, closed his eyes, and ghosted his mouth over Gray’s. Two, three brushes of their lips, followed by the slightest amount of pressure.
What the fuck are you doing?
He didn’t know, but he silenced the alarm and gently cupped Gray’s cheek.
Gray inhaled shakily, a tremor running through him. “Darius…?”
“I can stop,” he forced himself to reply. God knew he didn’t want to. It was about the only thing he was certain of.
Gray shook his head minutely and finally kissed him back, unsure but wanting. Needing. And Darius felt the relief crashing down around him. Tension he didn’t even know existed flew off his shoulders, and he deepened the kiss. He swept his
tongue into Gray’s mouth and earned himself a broken moan.
It didn’t take long before it was sensory overload. He weaved his fingers through Gray’s hair, and it was dry and soft from days of salty ocean breezes and sun. The kiss tasted of fruit and sleep.
Never breaking the kiss, Gray raised himself up on his knees and crawled onto Darius’s lap. Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck. Desire flared up the second Gray got settled, and Darius hugged the younger man to his body. Hands roaming the battered skin of Gray’s back. The kiss grew heated, and Gray seated right over Darius’s cock wasn’t exactly improving the situation. But he wouldn’t go that far. He wouldn’t. He’d stop it—he’d stop himself.
Gray was…a fucking intoxicating kisser. The sensual movements of his tongue flooded Darius with lust. And in that moment, there wasn’t a trace of worry. Why would there be? Gray was right here, and Darius finally had an outlet for his need to all but inhale the kid.
“Christ—fuck, Gray, careful,” he grunted as Gray rolled his hips. “We’re gonna be good.”
He didn’t wanna be good. He wanted to flip Gray over and let go of everything that held him back.
“Are-are you sure?” Gray panted and sucked on Darius’s bottom lip. At the same time, he pushed against his cock again. “I can make you feel better than good.”
“I have no doubt.” Darius took control, reluctantly. He palmed his knucklehead’s face and slowed down the kiss. “Easy, baby.”
Gray shuddered violently while Darius cursed himself. He shouldn’t have called Gray baby; where had that shit even come from? He was hardly known for being affectionate, yet with Gray, it was sweetheart this and now baby that. For chrissakes.
“I didn’t know you were a cocktease, Dare.”
Darius exhaled a laugh and stole another firm kiss. He didn’t wanna let Gray go—not one fucking bit. He felt lighter, despite physical needs still thundering inside of him.
The peace was still present.
Gray smiled and brushed his knuckle down Darius’s cheek. “You seem very protective of me.”
That was sobering. “I am. I…” can’t explain it. “It’s difficult having you out of my sight.”
Gray’s expression softened. “Ryan told me you take defeat personally.”
Jesus. Ryan talked too much when Darius wasn’t around. “When protection is my job, it’s hard not to. There’s no room for error.”
“That’s…impossible.”
Darius shrugged and cleared his throat. The haze of desire was lifting, and he was reminded of his responsibilities. They’d been gone for over four hours, he was sure. Ryan needed to get some more sleep before they built another campsite across the island, and before then, Darius had captives to interrogate. Problem was, he didn’t want the boys around for that. Maybe, if Ry was up for it, they could move out right away, and Darius could follow later.
“You’re tuning out,” Gray said with a wry smirk. “I’m beginning to learn how to read you, I think.”
Darius chuckled.
“I’m serious, though.” Gray returned to the blanket. It sucked. Having him closer was better. “No man is flawless. Well—” he winked “—you come pretty damn close.”
With a snort and a shake of his head, Darius kicked himself into gear and stood up. “You’re a flirt.” He adjusted his erection that was thankfully going down.
Gray didn’t miss it, his eyes following the movement. “So I’ve been told. Goddamn, Darius. Do we have to go back right now?”
The ego boost slipped over him like a warm glove, though he tried not to be obvious about it. He’d told Gray before how his honesty was new to him, and Darius had meant every word. In today’s society, fear of rejection held back genuine words that could make a man’s day. Gray, though, he spoke plainly and selflessly. He didn’t dish out a compliment to get one in return. He didn’t make his desires known only to safe bets. He had guts.
“Afraid so.” He extended a hand to Gray, who grabbed it with a sigh. There was a muttered “fine” too. It made Darius smile, and he couldn’t help but bring the kid close. “You’re getting under my skin, Gray Nolan.”
Gray blinked slowly, then lowered his face. Even then, the pink bleeding across his cheeks was impossible to miss. “I-I don’t know how to respond.”
Darius smirked and lifted the guy’s chin. “Say you’ll stick around.”
The flush grew even more pronounced, and it was fucking adorable. “Under your skin?”
Darius nodded once. “No matter what life throws at you when we get home, I’m only a call away.” He hadn’t meant for the gravity of the situation to shift so severely, and he could see Gray felt it too. Fuck, had he said too much? Had he gone too far by bringing up a time Gray barely believed would exist?
Gray swallowed unsteadily. “Do you mean that? I can come to you?”
It took everything not to rush out the words. “Of fucking course you can,” he settled for saying, and he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Gray’s forehead. “I’ll be there, knucklehead. Every step of the way.”
For as long as he’d want him there.
Ry insisted he wasn’t too tired, so they decided that he would take Cole and Niko and the most traumatized kids and begin the trek to the other side of the island. It wasn’t more than an hour’s walk, but it was tedious terrain and they’d be carrying as much gear as they could.
That left Darius with Gray, Fil, Lee, and two Mexican cartel members.
“You sure you don’t wanna go with them, Fil?” Darius asked.
Personality was a funny thing. He’d learned Fil and Lee were the same age at twenty—just a year younger than Gray—and Fil, having been held against his will for almost a year, had probably seen more suffering than Lee had. But because Fil carried himself younger, had a more innocent spirit, Darius couldn’t help but worry more. There was also more to protect. He didn’t wanna see yet another kid broken and shattered, and somehow, Fil had managed to hold on to his air of innocuous youth and fun attitude.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
On the other hand, Fil had said his main job during the voyages had been to be eye candy. He’d been good for business, Niko had filled in. Much like the hamburgers fast-food restaurants showed on billboards that didn’t come close to reality.
Perhaps he’d been shielded from the most vicious abuse.
Even so…
“Nah, I wanna help here.” He stood next to Lee, toes digging into the white, sandy beach, and furrowed his brow at the two shitheads. “They can’t get away, right?”
Darius shook his head and filled the mag to his gun. “Their hands and feet are tied together behind their backs.” Right now, the two Mexicans were on their knees some fifteen feet away, the blistering sun in their eyes, beads of sweat running down between open wounds.
“No, I mean…” Fil shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “Are they gonna make it out alive?”
Fuck no. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Lee, Fil!” Gray emerged from the jungle and their campsite with a plastic bag. “Can you guys get the last of the stuff into the lifeboat?”
Lee nodded and nudged Fil. “Let’s go. I don’t think we wanna see this.”
Wise choice.
Gray reached them. “I covered all the fire pits except for one. You can leave it there. And don’t touch the bag next to it. It’s Darius’s.”
“Okay.” Lee nodded again, and then they trailed up the beach toward the camp.
In the meantime, Darius gathered his pile of, uh, interrogation tools from the ground and carried it over to the two men. He wasn’t personally a fan of too many toys, but the anticipation was another thing. Fucking with their heads, that was where the real terror began. While he wasn’t gonna use the stakes, the splinters, or the rocks, they might think he would.
The restless fear grew tenfold when Darius dumped the supplies onto the sand in front of them.
“Here.” Gray sidled up next to Darius and extended the plast
ic bag.
“You followed my instructions?”
Gray nodded. “Promise.”
“Good.” Darius peered inside. Two guns, the ones they’d lifted off the fuckers, and leaves and a dozen fruits from the manchineel tree. They looked like little apples, often called that—beach apple, apple of death. Both he and Ryan had warned the boys about the fruits a few times when they were out looking for food.
“We thought you were with—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Darius told the left motherfucker. “What’re your names?”
The man to the left spoke again, urgency and desperation bleeding through every word. “Arturo, and I got a family, man. Two little girls—”
“That’s enough.” Darius raised a brow at the other guy.
He was trying a bit harder. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. “Carlos.”
Darius dipped his chin in acknowledgment and squatted down in front of them. “So, you and your men thought we were with the slave organization—”
Arturo interrupted. “You are not involved at all, man. I swear on my mother. This is between us and them. You can let us go—we only want what they owe us!”
Seventy-five bricks of coke, Darius bet. Well, good luck with that. It was resting on the bottom of the ocean.
This was good, though. The war between the cartel and the human trafficking ring had begun, giving the boys a much greater chance to live their lives in peace after this. They would stick to the story Darius and Ryan provided them with once they left. A short explanation, easy to remember, nothing to mix up when the authorities got involved and asked questions.
“It wasn’t just between you and them last night when you killed three innocent boys.” Darius reached into the plastic bag and grabbed a handful of the plum-sized apples. He placed one of them between his teeth, acting casual, acting like it wasn’t one of the deadliest fruits in the world. Then he stood up and grabbed his knife. “Anyway—” All right, that was impossible to say with the apple in his mouth. He took it out and extended one fruit to Carlos. “We’re gonna be here a while so I can get the answers I need. You should eat.”