by SE Jakes
But staying close to Law—without him—would be too hard.
“What’re you thinking?”
“I thought I’d lost you…in the restaurant, when I heard the shot…” Paulo trailed off and Law buried his head against his shoulder.
“Me too. Fuck.”
“Bastard,” Paulo blurted out. “I was worried, and you were getting off.”
Law didn’t deny it, and Paulo figured that his honesty in this case could only help things.
“So, is this stuff with Styx going to be about exorcizing your ghosts?” Paulo asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s about beginnings.” Law paused. “The Law/LC thing—for a long time, I couldn’t think of myself as Law. The memories it brought back, not just of Styx, but of Damon…what happened to him when we were younger.”
Paulo knew. A few months earlier, Law had been hurt by an attacker outside Crave who turned out to be someone from Damon and Law’s past, the man responsible for Damon’s gang rape at eighteen.
Law had already told him he felt completely responsible for what had happened, reiterated it now. “If I’d gone out with Damon…”
“Are you ever going to realize you can’t blame yourself for that? For anything that happened that night, especially Styx leaving?” Paulo shifted. “Why he did, that’s his thing. He did it to protect you.”
“Now you’re on his side?”
Law looked angry, but fuck it. Paulo was more so—he simply hid it better. “I’m on your side, Law. I’ve always been. And you’ve never been anything but completely honest with me. I’m not going to be the one who holds you back from Styx. You’d never forgive me for that—and I’d never have a shot in hell.”
“You’re not holding me back—I can make my own decisions. I’m in here with you, right?”
“We weren’t alone in here tonight. We’re still not. And the weird part is…I can understand. You alone…you rocked me, and I never thought that would happen. But you with Styx…”
Law smiled because he understood. “He’s something. Hard to resist. Always was.”
“You shouldn’t be. The bond between you—it’s physical, but it’s the way he treats you. He still goddamn loves you. Maybe that’s what makes it easier for me to defend him to you. I want to hate him, but I can’t.”
Law didn’t bother arguing with anything he said. “I think he feels the same way about you.”
“He thinks I’m an asshole.”
“He said you needed a spanking. I’m inclined to agree with him that you’re overdue,” Law said. For the first time since this started, Paulo felt cornered, and his dick told him he liked it.
“I thought you weren’t into all that BDSM shit,” Paulo said, well aware his voice sounded raw.
Law noticed. “Some of it’s useful. I’ve picked up some stuff living with a Dom all these years.”
Paulo wasn’t ready for this—for any of it—and he drew in a deep breath when the dizziness started. Was he having a panic attack?
He vaguely heard Law telling him to fucking breathe, was aware that Styx was there too, pushing his head between his legs until he felt better. Murmuring against his ear to just breathe, and even though he hadn’t known Styx long at all, he’d already come to associate the smell of peppermint with him. He stayed there for a while, with both men’s hands on his back and neck, rubbing, encouraging. He felt the drag of a wet washcloth on his skin, remembered he was still naked, elbows on his knees, head hanging and his dick half hard despite his nearly passing out.
Law and Styx sat so close to him, and he let that comfort him…which it strangely did. He could tell their touches apart, even though both men were gentle.
When he finally sat up straight, he felt like a fucking wimpy asshole, but neither man looked at him like that.
“I’m okay. Thanks.” He looked at Law and then Styx and realized that both were still touching him, Law with a hand on his thigh and Styx with the washcloth on the back of his neck.
Styx’s eyes traveled over his body and Paulo felt the blush rise in his cheeks. Hoped it was hidden by the flush covering his body from the goddamned panic attack. And when he met Styx’s eyes, he saw approval there…and he didn’t know why that was so fucking important, but it was.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Styx asked.
“I didn’t.” Paulo remembered the wine and a few appetizers at the restaurant and no lunch before that.
“I’ll go get him something.” Styx stood and handed Law a gun he took out of the back of his jeans. “Do you remember how to use that?”
“Fuck you,” Law told him, took the gun and watched Styx leave before turning back to Paulo. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
“Yeah, you did.” Paulo sank back into the bed. “And I never said I didn’t like it.”
Law didn’t know what to say to that, to anything that was happening, and so he pulled the covers up over Paulo’s naked body. He didn’t understand the electric current running between the three of them, chalked it up to danger and stress—because fucking was another form of adrenaline rush relief.
But there was something more there he wasn’t ready to unravel. Not tonight, anyway. “Sleep, man.”
Paulo nodded, muttered, “Don’t think I’ll be able to,” and then passed out as the last word was spoken. That made Law smile, and he rubbed the back of Paulo’s neck for a few minutes, watching him sleep.
About ten minutes later, Styx came in quietly, put the fast food bags on the table. “It’s the only thing open and close by.”
“He’s asleep.”
Styx looked over at Paulo, peacefully curled in the blankets. “You should wake him—make him eat something. We can’t risk him getting sick.”
“I told him…about you.”
Styx’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “I suppose you had no choice.”
“That’s about the only thing I have no choice in.”
“Not going there right now.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
“Yeah, I did,” Styx shot back. “I didn’t hear either of you ask me to leave.”
That was true. Knowing Styx was there, witnessing everything, made the entire experience off the charts when Law should’ve been pissed as hell.
“I was a part of it, whether I was there or not,” Styx added.
“That’s basically what Paulo said.” Law sat at the small table and Styx passed him a burger and fries before taking his own and sitting across from him. For a while, they ate in silence, taking in the enormity of all the situations.
Finally, Law crumpled the paper from his burger and looked at Styx. “Any action outside?”
“All quiet.”
“That’s good.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”
Styx just nodded with a world-weary look on his face that brought Law back to the first weeks they’d known each other—it was Styx’s universal look for, “You can ask and I’m sure it’s going to bug the shit out of me.”
Law didn’t care. “What’s your real name?”
His former lover’s face hardened and when he spoke, it was with an uncouched fierceness. “It’s Styx. That’s the one I chose—the only one I answer to.”
Law accepted that because a piece of paper with a name on it was just that. The fact that Styx had been forced back into that violence turned his stomach, so badly that he needed an outlet for the pain and anger.
How anyone could fuck up their kids so badly… Shit, why bother having them at all?
He knew Styx was good at his job with the CIA—knew what he’d been trained to do. Law, as a Delta, had learned to kill quickly and efficiently when necessary. The world of Special Ops and the alphabet agencies that surrounded them was full of men with murky pasts, shady presents and uncertain futures. Sometimes, it was too easy to fall into the trap of thinking you were the job.
Had that happened to Styx? He appeared the same—he’d always been serious and sarcastic but had always been able to drag Law o
ut of his shell.
“When your father was in prison, did you ever see him or talk to him?”
Styx shook his head. “I knew what I needed to. He wouldn’t have given a reason why because it was what he did…who he was. The fact that I didn’t turn out exactly like him… Well, there wouldn’t have been any love if I had.”
That was true but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I wish I could’ve been there for you. I wanted to.”
“I didn’t want you involved in that. I still don’t.”
“Case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big boy.”
Styx didn’t relent. “I don’t care—and this is my decision.”
So how could any kind of relationship grow under these circumstances? How had they?
Because they’d been young…clinging to each other.
But Law hadn’t been waiting for Styx for nothing…no, the man was the same underneath it all, and probably a lot more like Paulo than either man cared to admit, and that intrigued Law a hell of a lot.
Styx stood then. “I’ll let you grab some shut-eye.”
Both Law and Styx glanced over at Paulo, who was still out like a light.
“Sleeps like a baby.”
Law cocked a brow. “The only time I’d compare him to one. Otherwise…”
Styx let his eyes linger on the younger man. “Does he heal you?”
“He’s trying,” Law admitted as Styx turned his gaze back to him. “I was already halfway there with you.”
Chapter Five
Sleep had always been a joke, but there had been next to none for Styx that night. He’d left Law and Paulo’s room with Law’s words still echoing in his brain, closed the door between the rooms and jerked off in the shower quickly, the threat of danger never really leaving his mind.
He had no doubt the two men realized their lives were in jeopardy, but the complete and utter horror of the entire situation hadn’t hit home for them yet.
Styx had no doubt his father—or his father’s henchmen—had already ripped through Law’s apartment and Paulo’s as well. Their lives would never be the same unless he could eradicate his father and the group of men who worked under him.
Thus far, that had proved to be impossible. And so he remained on the bed, alone, coming up with several plans to present to Tomcat, because this could go so many different ways.
With all of them, Law would hate him, because it meant leaving again.
When the sun came up, Tomcat texted him that the safe house was all set, that he’d meet them there with the necessary supplies and to haul ass before the storm came. That a truck had been dropped off in the back lot for him, which Styx already had a key to.
March snow wasn’t unheard of in upstate New York, which was where they were now headed, but this had been one of the worst winters on record. So he knocked on the door and got Law and Paulo moving. Styx pulled the truck around for them and they picked up breakfast along the way.
All in all, it was an eight-hour drive that was mostly silent. Paulo crawled into the back to sleep, leaving Styx to wonder if Law had fucked him all night or if he’d slept through.
He’d bet sleep, though, because from what he’d witnessed, Paulo wasn’t quiet and damn, it had been something…and he should be jealous but he wasn’t, not really, and he wondered why.
He was intrigued by Paulo, by Law’s reaction to him and by his own.
But by the morning, the lust had dissipated and the heavy cloak of reality shrouded everything. This wasn’t about a single night of confessions and fights and sex… This had implications that could last each of them a lifetime, and the blame weighed on Styx heavily.
“We’re here,” Styx said quietly, and Law shook Paulo awake. He parked next to Tomcat’s truck and the men all got out and stretched.
“All clear?” Styx asked Tomcat, who nodded. Styx handed Law the keys and he and Paulo headed inside while Styx waited to talk with his partner.
In his truck, the man had clothes for all the men, plus food and other supplies, like gas for the truck and the generator. And shovels, because the snow was expected to come down like a motherfucker, land-locking them here for a couple of days. It would ensure no one could get to them…although Styx still had his doubts about that.
Tomcat caught a look at Styx’s bruised cheek, courtesy of Law last night. “Looks like you told him everything.”
Styx ignored him in favor of unpacking the boxes from the back.
They’d used this place before, but Styx had always been the one dropping people off here, and although he welcomed the time with Law, these weren’t the most ideal circumstances.
“They broke into Paulo’s apartment. Law’s too but not Damon’s,” Tomcat confirmed when Styx returned from his second trip into the house.
Styx cursed and punched the hood of the truck lightly a few times with the side of his closed fist.
“I checked the intel on Damon—he’s away for two weeks with Tanner James,” Tomcat continued.
The only bright spot in all of this. Law had mentioned their trip to Europe and Styx had asked Tomcat to run it, just to be sure.
“The cop’s good,” Tomcat said, and Styx narrowed his eyes. Because Tomcat never complimented anyone—and not like that. Especially not cops. “What? I’m stating a truth.”
“Forget it,” he muttered, didn’t want Paulo to be good at anything, but he was. Most obviously, he was good at making Law happy and how could Styx bitch about that? It was what he’d always wanted—Law to be happy.
“Hey, it could be a lot worse you were stuck with—you’ve got a detective and an ex-Delta.”
Styx just shook his head. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”
“For some men, maybe. But you’ve got two men and nothing to do but—”
“Not get killed?”
“You know I get the seriousness of the sitch, man, but you’ve been mooning over Law for a hell of a long time.”
“Helluva way to win him back.”
“How do you know you ever lost him?”
“You met Paulo, right? The good one?”
Tomcat shrugged. “Law looks like he can handle an angel and a devil.”
“You’re impossible.”
“We’re going to catch the fucker.” Tomcat could turn fierce in the space of an instant, and Styx knew his partner always had his back.
“I wish I could be as sure as you.”
“Happened once. No one’s that good for that long.”
“I want you to be right.”
“Take the next forty-eight to get your shit together. We’ll work the rest out after that.”
Tomcat was right. Leaving Law again right now would be stupid as hell. Styx knew he was literally down to his last chance and he’d be damned if he fucked it all up again.
“You’re safe here for now,” Tomcat said. “Besides, you said you wanted to take care of this part personally, let your friend know his options. Do that and then come back and we’ll get the bastard.”
Tomcat was right, reminded him as to why they’d tailed Law to the restaurant to begin with. Why Styx had spent the morning waiting for Law to exit Paulo’s wearing the same clothing as the night before, slightly askew.
When he’d first met Tomcat, Styx knew him as Clint. Clint Sommers, who was a year older than Styx was and who’d gotten into the CIA because they’d taken note of his computer hacking abilities. Turned out, he was also damned good at playing secret agent and especially undercover work. Despite his height, he could camouflage himself into just about any role—his current one as part of a motorcycle gang necessitated the name Tomcat, and he’d spend over a year undercover. But he refused to stop helping Styx once his father escaped, and so now he was working both jobs simultaneously.
Disappearing from a motorcycle gang here and there wasn’t too much of an issue, so he was lucky.
“I’m glad you’re in on this,” Styx told
him now.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
After Tomcat helped him bring in the last of the boxes, Styx walked him out and watched his truck take off—he wouldn’t go too far—someplace he could get a chopper to help Styx if need be. And then he stayed outside for a while, needing the space from the situation—wanted the fresh air to clear his head, to figure out what the hell he was going to present as options to the two men inside. After Tomcat’s truck disappeared, he walked the perimeter of the house, checking things out, and then spent a few minutes looking up at the gray sky.
But the memories were coming back to him too fast out here—worse than they had last night and all the nights before these past three months since he’d actually laid eyes on Law again.
Having no memories before the age of sixteen was frightening—a big, black hole he couldn’t dwell on without freaking out. And not much freaked him out. Being in the CIA since he’d turned himself in at twenty-one had really sucked most of that out of him.
But those first moments of remembering were like being born again—painful and necessary.
He’d been sixteen years old, and he’d woken up on a Central Park bench with blood on his shirt. Not a lot and it wasn’t his, but he shed it immediately, sat there and panicked because he didn’t know what the hell to do next. Didn’t know who he was, where he’d come from, and so he walked a few blocks bare-chested, despite the cold temperatures. Met up with a guy who wanted to party with him and ended up in Greg’s club purely by happenstance.
According to Greg, nothing was ever coincidence—it was all fate, and Styx had wanted to call that theory crap but he couldn’t.
Greg had brought him home—he’d wondered if something weird was going to happen, but he’d been too tired and scared to care. He’d showered and slept and no one bothered him—and when he woke, he stumbled on Law.
Jesus, that boy, nearly a man like Styx, hovering on that precipice, took his breath away. Blond, blue eyes, a wary, who-the-fuck-are-you look in his eyes.