Lost Souls

by AJ Lange

  She gasped when he finally lifted his head, her eyes burning with a hatred so deep she could feel it poisoning every cell in her body. “I’m going to kill you,” she said coldly.

  The man smiled, wiping his mouth gingerly. “Not if I kill you first.”

  Dom took the steaming mug of coffee from MaryBeth, hands trembling with exhaustion.

  “Easy, Dom,” she murmured, cupping her palm around his wrist to steady him. “Why don’t you go lie down in Bud’s office?”

  “I can’t,” he barked, then sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, MaryBeth,” he whispered.

  “Don’t apologize.” She squeezed his wrist and dropped her hand to her side. “You’re doing great. You might want to switch to decaf after this one though.”

  Dom nodded, dredging up some semblance of a smile for her; MaryBeth, who had been like a sister to him and Gavin and Matt, their entire lives. She had been their playmate, the fourth to his third wheel growing up, whenever Matt was with Gavin (which was always). Her mother Ellie had owned O’Malley’s, the favorite pub among the Parkville precinct police officers, for as long as Dom could remember. Her late husband Bill had been in the Marines with Angelo DeLuca, before Gavin had even been a glint in Angelo’s eye. The two families, along with Angelo’s best friend Bud Esposito, comprised the bulk of Dom’s childhood memories. Little Dominic Lorello, whose father ran away, he and his mother swept into the DeLuca fold. It was how it was done in the tightly knit community; they took care of their own.

  No one could have been more surprised than Dom when Bud and Ellie had eloped to Las Vegas a few years ago. Dom still struggled with the thought of his surrogate ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ getting it on. MaryBeth had taken it in stride, however, and laughed at Dom’s pinched expression during the first dinner they had all shared to celebrate the new couple’s nuptials.

  “Dom, you’re such a fucking prude.”

  “Shut up, MaryBeth,” Dom had grumbled, blushing.

  “They’re happy, asshole. Can’t you be happy for them? Jesus fucking Christ, it’s my mother, and I’m not half as tight-assed about it as you.” MaryBeth had punched him hard in the shoulder for emphasis.

  “Ow, Beth, Jesus.” Dom rubbed his shoulder, sighing. “I just,” he paused, a wistful expression on his face. “I always kind of thought Ellie was pining for your dad. Would love him forever.”

  “You’re such a girl,” MaryBeth scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

  “MaryBeth,” Ellie barked from across the room. “If I hear one more f-bomb out of your mouth at my wedding party, I’m going to kick your ass all the way to Sunday!”

  Marybeth grinned, waving her mother off.

  Dom took a second to appreciate Marybeth’s balls of steel in that moment. No one terrified Dom Lorello more than Ellie O’Malley on a rampage. Not even Angelo.

  “Anyway,” MaryBeth continued, but she dropped her voice a few degrees. “Of course mom will always love dad. You never forget your first love.” Her gaze dropped from Dom’s face, and Dom fleetingly remembered a dark summer midnight in his mama’s backyard, MaryBeth’s sweet cinnamon breath on his cheek. “But she loves Bud too. He’s been her best friend forever. That’s a good life, Dom.”

  “Yeah,” Dom said, his voice husky. He glanced at his fiancé Gina, standing across the room, arm looped through Antonia’s. His eyes met MaryBeth’s again and he opened his mouth but she interrupted before he could speak.

  “Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t make it impossible for me to continue in my duty as best friend.”

  Dom had chuckled and the moment passed.

  Marybeth had sighed then, in relief. “Now. On to more important things. Have you seen that batch of cadets they brought in last week? Holy shit, number four-one-nine is smoking hot.”

  Dom’s eyes followed MaryBeth now as she answered his desk phone, making notes on his day planner in her neat script, taking care of all the details of the cases he couldn’t focus on because of Gina. MaryBeth was still his best friend. And he loved her in that moment as much as he had ever loved anyone in his whole life.

  “Beth?”

  “Hmm?” She murmured, flipping through a file of photos they had confiscated from Matt’s storage unit, mechanical pencil gripped between her teeth.

  “I love you.”

  MaryBeth dropped the pencil with an exaggerated eye roll. “Seriously, Dom. Go lie down. Twenty minutes and I’ll come get you.”

  Dom huffed into his palm. “Okay, okay. Twenty minutes.”

  As it turned out, it was only ten. MaryBeth, white-faced and scared, appeared in the doorway of Bud’s office, a plain brown wrapper in her hand.

  Dom struggled to his feet, heart pounding. “What is it?”

  She passed the open envelope to him, a sheet of paper lying on top.

  It had a single long curl of golden hair fastened to it with a strip of clear tape.

  Which heart is the real one?

  Which eye the seer?

  Why is it in the infinite plan

  that you would be severed

  and rise from the dead

  like a gargoyle with two heads?

  “Call Gavin,” Dom managed, before sitting back down on the cot, lightheaded, sick with fear. “Call Gavin!”

  Gavin could feel his dread increase incrementally, the closer they came to the Kansas state line. It wouldn’t be long now, no more than forty minutes before they hit Kansas City.

  “Hang on, Gina,” he murmured. He chanced a glance at Matt, who had been sleeping for almost an hour. He was slumped against the passenger door, his head tucked into Gavin’s balled up jacket. Gavin would have to check the dressing soon; that is, if he could coerce Matt into stopping one more time before they reached Parkville.

  Gavin steeled his jaw. They could damn well sacrifice another ten minutes. Besides, he was still struggling to come up with a plan to get Matt safely removed from the chaos they were about to voluntarily walk into. He was by God not letting Matt anywhere near this bastard again.

  If he had to have Burke lock him up, he would. He would deal with Matt’s wrath when it was all over.

  The problem wasn’t that Gavin didn’t trust Matt. It was that Matt’s family had already proved themselves to be unquestionably evil and totally unpredictable. Above all else, Gavin needed to keep a clear head and laser-sharp focus, and he couldn’t do that when Matt was involved. He had made that mistake once, and it had cost him his whole world.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  Five Years Ago

  Gavin paced the living room impatiently; Matt was more than an hour late. It wasn’t a huge deal, they could always catch a later show or skip the movie altogether. But it had been a hectic few months, and Gavin felt like they had barely seen each other. They had been passing in the night, and sometimes not even then, for weeks.

  Matt was working on a new book, deep in the throes of the research process, and had been spending more and more time traveling to the St. Joseph Public Library a few counties over the Missouri state line. Gavin had been forced to cover multiple shifts since the city had decided to downsize the police department; he was back to covering routine patrols for the first time since becoming a homicide detective.

  When the key turned in the lock, Gavin turned, grumbling. “It’s about time—”

  He halted when he saw that Matt wasn’t alone.

  Matt’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Gavin,” he said warmly. “What are you doing home?” He stepped aside to allow the man with him to enter, before shutting the door behind him.

  Gavin eyed the handsome stranger warily. He was the same height as Matt, and roughly the same build. His skin was a deep, honeyed tan and his dark eyes and high cheekbones were indicative of Native American heritage. “We were going to dinner,” Gavin reminded him, voice clipped.

  Matt’s face fell. “Oh Christ, is it Friday? I forgot,” he smiled sheepishly. “Well, we can still go.” He turned
to the man at his side. “How about it, Montana? Would you like to go to dinner with us?”

  Montana was watching Gavin, so still Gavin couldn’t detect even his breath.

  Matt cleared his throat uneasily. “Oh. Um, Gavin, this is Montana Askuwheteau. He’s been a huge help in my research into the Potawatomi history of Kansas and Missouri. Montana, this is Gavin DeLuca, my roommate.”

  Gavin’s eyes flicked to Matt then. Roommate. He looked back to Montana and held out a hand. “Montana.”

  The man accepted the handshake, his grasp firm and warm in Gavin’s. “Mr. DeLuca.” His voice was smooth, and the dialect held something foreign; Gavin wondered what language had been his native tongue.

  Matt studied Gavin with a hard glint in his eyes. Gavin knew he was trying to send him a message, a rebuke for his lack of social grace, but Gavin didn’t give a shit. Matt had clearly forgotten it was their anniversary.

  Gavin was left feeling like an idiot. Might as well go for broke then. “We missed our reservation at Fogo de Chão. But we can go somewhere else.”

  Matt blanched. “Reservation,” he asked weakly. “Gav...”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Gavin said gruffly, turning away from the pair by the door. He hadn’t missed the way Montana had taken a step closer to Matt when he heard the uneasiness in Matt’s voice. “Another time.”

  “Let me put my things away,” Matt said, voice subdued. He gestured to the living room. “Montana, make yourself at home. I’ll be right back and then we can decide on dinner.”

  Gavin ground his teeth together. Sure, he was left to make nice with the stranger who seemed entirely too comfortable standing too fucking close to Gavin’s boyfriend. “So, Montana, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a media specialist at the St. Joe’s library,” he replied conversationally, walking to the bar that separated the living area from the kitchen. Gavin was currently behind it, retrieving glasses from the glass-front cabinet.

  Media specialist, Gavin thought. Of course you are. Probably a goddamn brainiac, just like Matt. Gavin envisioned the two men huddled together, dark heads close over a pile of dusty books in the basement of some godforsaken government building. “And what are you and Matt researching?”

  Gavin opened a second door and grabbed a bottle from the shelf. He poured himself a finger of whiskey in a glass tumbler and inclined it toward Montana, eyebrow raised.

  Montana shook his head, refusing the drink. “I don’t think I should say, without Matt’s permission.”

  Matt’s. Gavin threw back the whiskey in one swallow. “Okay,” he said evenly.

  Montana studied him with eyes so black Gavin couldn’t detect the pupil, not in the dim light of the overhead lamp. Montana leaned on top of the bar, bracing on one strong forearm. “Matt tells me you’re a cop,” he was saying, but Gavin’s ears were ringing. He had caught a whiff of the man’s cologne when his head dipped close and Gavin flinched; it was the same as his own.

  “Excuse me,” Gavin ground out, slamming the glass on top of the counter.

  He stalked into the bedroom, Matt’s bedroom, the one he still kept clothes in even though he almost always slept with Gavin. He slammed the door behind him.

  Matt turned, a freshly-pressed dress shirt partially in place. “Gavin,” he said, alarmed at the look on Gavin’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  But Gavin couldn’t speak.

  At the foot of the bed was a pile of strange clothes, neatly folded in place next to a duffle bag Gavin had never seen.

  Matt followed his gaze. “Gavin,” he began but stopped when Gavin held up a hand.

  “How long?” Gavin’s head was pounding nearly as fast and as hard as his heart. Once the image was planted, Matt’s mouth, his hands, his body, entwined with that of the handsome stranger in the room behind him, he couldn’t vanquish it.

  “It’s not what you think,” Matt said quietly, buttoning his shirt with calm fingers. “As usual, you’re jumping to your insanely jealous conclusions without the common courtesy of asking me first.”

  “I’m asking,” Gavin bit out, crossing the room in three long strides, gripping Matt’s biceps tight.

  “He needed a place to stay. It was only for a night.”

  Gavin paled. “He slept here?” His stomach dropped to his knees and his hands fell.

  “Gavin,” Matt pleaded, reaching for him.

  Gavin backed away.

  Matt clenched his fists and went back to coolly buttoning his shirt. Gavin kind of hated him for the control in his fingers. “Yes. He slept here last night. I,” Matt unzipped his fly, shoving his shirt inside. “I slept in your bed. Alone.”

  Gavin flinched; he had not been coming home at night much these days. Sometimes it was simpler to catch the too few hours left between shifts in the breakroom. “Not my fault, Matt.”

  Matt fastened his jeans and Gavin felt a perverse satisfaction that now he could see a fine tremble in his hands. “No, it’s not. It is what it is, right?”

  Gavin sucked in a breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Matt shrugged his shoulders into a jacket and stepped into Gavin’s personal space. “I guess it means if you wanted to be home, you’d be home.”

  Gavin pursed his lips, the accusation stinging. Of course he wanted to be home, he never wanted to be anywhere but with Matt. “And if you wanted to fuck the first handsome guy that came along, you’d fuck him? Let him sleep in my bed, shower in my bath?” He was sorry the instant the words left his mouth.

  Matt’s eyes hardened. “What makes you think he was the first?” He strode from the room.

  Gavin was still standing in Matt’s empty bedroom when the front door closed.

  He was halfway through the bottle of Jack Daniels when the doorbell rang. His heart leapt; maybe Matt had forgotten his key. When he pulled it open, the apology already falling from his lips, he was shocked to find a petite redhead staring up at him.

  “Nikki?”

  “Hey, Gavin,” Nikki said softly. “Is Matt here?” She twisted her hands together nervously.

  Gavin had rarely seen Matt’s sister since they had left home; hell, he had rarely seen her when they were growing up. She was several years younger and he had always had the feeling Isaiah didn’t allow her to socialize much.

  “Uh, no,” Gavin swayed unsteadily and had to lay a hand on the doorframe. “He’s out.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking quickly at her feet. “I’ll just, I’ll go then.” She turned to leave and Gavin grabbed for her arm.

  “No, wait.” He gentled his touch when she shrank away. “Come in. You can wait here. He won’t be gone long,” he lied. He had no idea if Matt would come back or not. Goddammn his vile temper. And goddamn Matt’s refusal to carry a cell phone. Gavin could be groveling right now, begging him to forgive his pigheadedness and stupidity. Please come home, Gavin thought miserably.

  He moved to let Nikki enter.

  “Do you want a drink?” He wrinkled his nose self-consciously when he realized it was plain he had been drinking straight from the bottle. “I do have glasses,” he joked.

  “Bottle’s fine with me if it’s fine with you,” Nikki murmured, looking up at him from under her lashes.

  Gavin blinked. Was she flirting? She was a pretty little thing, all big blue eyes and fiery hair, the colors more intense against the backdrop of her porcelain skin. He cleared his throat, feeling like a lecherous old man. This was Matt’s little sister. “Saves on dishes,” he said wryly, and she giggled.

  “Far be it from me to add to your chore list, Gavin,” she grinned, taking the bottle from his hand. She took a long swig and his eyes widened when she didn’t sputter or cough.

  “Well that was impressive,” he said grudgingly.

  She winked. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  They sat on the couch and watched Absolutely Fabulous reruns and ran through the rest of the whiskey and half a bottle of tequila before Gavin started to get bleary.<
br />
  The little redhead seemed as right as rain though, and it pricked something in his conscious. “Are you sure you’re swallowing?” He asked, groaning and holding his head when he tried to stand. “B’right back. Gotta pee.” He staggered into the hallway doorframe and she laughed.

  She appeared under his arm before he realized she had moved. “Let me help you, big guy.”

  “Um, no,” Gavin said, pushing her gently away. At least he thought he did. The room was starting to sway; or maybe that was his body. “I have parts you really shouldn’t be seeing.”

  “Gavin,” she admonished. “Don’t be silly. I’ve seen everything you could possibly have. I’m not a virgin.”

  Gavin struggled to remember where he was going and why Matt’s little sister had her fingers on his fly. “Nikki,” he mumbled, grabbing her wrists. “Stop.”

  Her lips were on his before he could react and his head spun. Her tongue was small and hot and it flicked between his lips in quick little strokes. He grimaced and shoved her aside. “Nikki,” he said, voice stronger. “I think you should leave.”

  “Do you, Gavin?” She crooned, her hands shoving up under his t-shirt. Her fingers were icy, harsh against his heated skin. Gavin’s vision began to blacken and he realized they were standing at the edge of his bed. “I think you should lie back and enjoy it.”

  It was the last thing Gavin remembered before he passed out.

  Matt stood at the curb, beside the open taxi door. “I’m sorry, Montana. I suppose this is partly my fault,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Not at all,” Montana said. He laid a hand tentatively at Matt’s waist. “You’re sure?”

  Matt stepped back and the hand fell away. He was sure. When it came to Gavin DeLuca, he had always been sure. “He may seem like an asshole, but he’s my asshole,” Matt joked before sobering. “And I love him. But thank you, for all of your help.”

  Montana nodded and gave a brief wave before climbing into the cab.