by Erin M. Leaf
Knox rolled his eyes. “You can be annoyed at his bullshit security later. Right now we’ve gotta move.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stay close to me.” Mick silently stepped into the light, zigzagging around the pool to the back of the building. Knox followed on his heels until they reached the rear door. The house was dark inside. Mick slipped out the keycard and tilted his head at Knox.
Knox nodded.
Mick tapped it against the security lock, and the light turned green. Knox pushed the door open and slipped inside, Mick on his heels. He looked around, but didn’t see anyone in the pool room. Plants crowded every available surface, turning the space into a jungle. He’d been in a real jungle a few times and it sucked. Recreating that kind of dense tropical crap indoors… Rich people were weird. He moved to the far door, then eased his head around the doorjamb. The kitchen was empty. He and Mick continued, clearing the first floor of the building.
“Where the fuck is he?” Mick asked, keeping his voice low. “Maybe your intel was bad.”
Knox looked at the door to the basement. “No. My info is good, but I think cockroaches run into their holes when someone shines a light on their party.” He tapped the door with the tip of his gun.
Mick frowned. “Fine. Let’s go down.”
Knox turned the knob. Light filtered up the broad steps. This wasn’t your ordinary basement, not that he’d expected it to be. More like a wine cellar, he thought, eyeing the hardwood stairs and rock walls. Mick slipped past him, heading down. Knox followed him, freezing when Mick grabbed a man’s arm just as they rounded a curve on the staircase.
“Where are they?” he asked, shoving the guard against the wall. His knife pressed into the man’s neck.
The guy swallowed hard. “Downstairs. Door on the right.”
Mick smiled grimly, then cut the man’s throat.
Knox helped him ease the body to the steps. “Messy.” Blood streaked the stones, soaking into the mortar between the rocks. That would be a bitch to clean up.
Mick shrugged. “Don’t care.” He wiped his knife on the man’s shirt.
Knox had nothing to add to that. He didn’t much care either, especially if the man had helped DiLorenzo hurt Aileen. “There might be more of them.”
“I hope so.” Mick headed down.
Knox followed him, vaguely aroused, but that was nothing new. Watching Mick work over the past half year had screwed with his customary indifference. Mick was very, very good at his job. Watching him cut down a professional guard so efficiently sparked something in Knox’s gut. Something he couldn’t ignore. I don’t have to chew it to death, though. Mick was hot. So what? He didn’t have to make it into anything more if he didn’t want to.
Mick stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs, holding up two fingers and then pointing. The dimly lit hallway stretched half the length of the house before opening into a wood-paneled wine tasting room. Two closed wooden doors with polished brass levers sat halfway down the space.
Knox tapped him on the arm and motioned that he wanted to go first. Mick nodded. Knox eased by, then immediately crouched down on the floor. Three men came out of nowhere, probably from a doorway he hadn’t seen tucked behind the stairs. That was the one direction Mick couldn’t check from his position. Instinctively, he shot one guy, and then the other before he realized the racket it would make. Fuck. Should’ve brought the silencer.
Mick rushed past, knifing a third guard in the stomach with short, sharp stabs. “Where is he?” he demanded harshly. He grabbed the man by his shirt and shoved him against the stair’s railing. Knox circled around them, hoping like hell there weren’t any more men hiding in the rooms behind closed doors. Breaking into DiLorenzo’s stronghold was dumb, and they both knew it, but the bastard had Aileen. They didn’t have a lot of options and even less time.
Mick growled, shaking the wounded guard. Blood bubbled from the man’s lips, but his eyes looked toward the open area at the end of the hall. Mick knifed him again and let him slump to the floor.
“My goodness, how dramatic. And messy. I should have expected that, I suppose, from the prodigal son. And you got here so quickly, too. I’ve only now arrived myself.”
Knox froze, turning toward the owner of the voice. An older man stood at the end of the hall, arm wrapped around Aileen’s neck. He pressed a gun against her cheek, hard enough to turn her skin white at the cheekbone. His black slacks and grey sweater didn’t do his overweight body any favors, and neither did the slicked back silver hair. He looked like a thug. A wealthy one, but everyone knew there were some things money couldn’t fix, and DiLorenzo’s aura of dissipation was one of them. Aileen’s bruised eyes matched the man’s clothing: bleak and dull. She stared at him and Mick pleadingly. She was gagged, and obviously freaked the fuck out, but the man’s piercing blue gaze was what held Knox captive.
Oh, fuck me, he thought, horrified. Mick’s face would probably look exactly like DiLorenzo’s in about forty years.
****
“Prodigal son? You’ve gone completely delusional, you sick bastard,” Mick said, flicking the blood off of his blade. He looked at his sister. Her hands were zip-tied in front of her body, tight enough to cut off her circulation. She had two black eyes and a cut lip from what he could see around the rag in her mouth. Rage uncoiled at the base of Mick’s spine. He wasn’t going to kill DiLorenzo fast, oh no. This motherfucker didn’t deserve a quick death. The bastard would pay for whatever he’d done to Aileen. “Let her go, DiLorenzo. She has nothing to do with our little game.”
“Game?” The older man laughed. “On the contrary, my wayward son. She has everything to do with this.”
“I’m not your son,” Mick said, stepping forward. What the hell is he getting at?
“Uh, uh. Not one step closer, my boy.” DiLorenzo shook Aileen like a rag doll. She struggled, trying to get away, but DiLorenzo casually hit her in the head with the butt of his pistol. Aileen swayed, clearly dazed. Blood trickled from a small wound at her temple.
Knox growled and raised his weapon, but Mick held out his arm, keeping the assassin behind him. DiLorenzo still held Aileen across his body. There was no way to guarantee a clean shot at this distance, no matter how impressive Knox’s skill was.
“Your guards are dead. So is your business.” Mick flipped his blade around his fingers idly. “You have nowhere to go.”
DiLorenzo laughed. “Defiant to the end, just like your mother. It’s a shame she died so precipitously, isn’t it? But then, she thought she could get away with leaving me.”
Oh, shit, Mick thought, as the meaning of the bastard’s words sank into his brain. This is bad. He knew my mother?
DiLorenzo sneered. “Thought she could hook up with another man. Give birth to someone else’s spawn.” He shook Aileen again. “She was wrong. Your mother was mine. And no one takes away what’s mine and lives to talk about it.” He snorted. “Your Aunt Judy figured that out too late. Thought she could fucking rat me out, the bitch.” His eyes went flat. “Dead people don’t talk.”
Mick’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade. “What the fuck are you babbling about?”
“Mick, I am your father,” DiLorenzo intoned with a deep voice, and then he cackled. “I’ve been waiting years to say that.” His smile slipped away. “Oh, wait. Didn’t your mother ever tell you about your real father? No? It certainly wasn’t that faggot she married after she ran away from me.”
Mick went perfectly still. “Are you insane?”
“Fuck,” Knox muttered.
Mick glanced at his lover. Knox was staring at DiLorenzo as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Your partner sees the truth, son,” DiLorenzo said, smirking.
No. He has to be bluffing, Mick thought. Nausea twisted in his gut. “My father died when I was a baby. Maybe you knew my mother, and maybe you didn’t. It doesn’t matter.”
DiLorenzo laughed again. “Ha! Such a liar, your mother.” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course, you turned out
quite well, even without my fatherly support. Best thief in North America. A chip off the old block, as they say. I’m proud of you, Micky.” His eyes glittered. “We’re going to have so much fun together, hmm?”
Mick lost it. If someone asked him later to describe what he felt in that moment, he’d never be able to explain the weird mix of rage and horror that gripped him. He rushed forward, intent on one thing only: he wanted to cut DiLorenzo into tiny, little, bloody pieces. Aileen screamed through the gag, eyes wide and terrified, and then a shot went off near his head. Mick ignored the ringing in his ears and grabbed his sister, shoving her behind him. Blood welled up from the hole in DiLorenzo’s head.
“Fuck!” Mick grabbed the bastard before he could fall. “Fucking liar!” Mick shook him hard, but the blue eyes had already gone blank. He threw the body away from him and pivoted on his heel, rage still pushing through his veins like heroin. “What the fuck did you do?” he yelled at Knox.
Knox was on the floor, cradling Aileen’s hands. He’d cut her zip-ties.
“Look at me!” Mick knew he was out of line, yelling at Knox like that, but he didn’t care. He stood there, gripping his knife like a fucking lunatic, but he couldn’t bring himself under control. The faint, static indifference he felt most of the time was gone, and in its place was a rage so vast he was drowning in it. His heart banged against his ribs as he sucked in air.
Knox looked up, eyes shadowed. “I wasn’t going to let you kill your own father, Mick.”
Mick clenched his teeth. “I wanted him to suffer.” He gestured with his blade. “That isn’t suffering.”
Knox gently worked the gag away from Aileen’s mouth, then massaged her jaw. “I know, Mick,” he murmured. “But he needed to be dead more than you needed revenge. And no one should have to kill their own parent.” He scooped a weeping Aileen into his lap and rocked her. “Shh. Shh, it’s okay. I got you, honey.”
Mick stared at his lover and his sister. His mind felt like a huge black hole. Every time he tried to calm down, the anger sucked everything he cared about into oblivion. He turned and threw the knife, staring as it hit the wall and stuck there, vibrating. “He’s not my dad.”
“No, he’s not.” Knox’s voice sounded so sure. “He’s not the guy who raised you, thank fucking Christ, but he is your biological father. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
Mick stared at the body. Maybe he is, but I don’t care. He sucked in a harsh breath, heart still pumping hard. Knox’s words didn’t matter. Mick wanted to hurt someone, but there was no one left alive he could slice open. Except myself. He pulled out his other knife and set the edge against his forearm, just above the leather sheath he wore strapped to his skin.
“Mick. Stop it.” Knox set Aileen on the floor and stood up.
Mick pushed the tip into his arm, savoring the bite. “Leave me alone, Knox.” He sliced down his arm, shuddering when the blood welled up. “Please take care of my sister.” He knew he wasn’t capable of helping her right now, not with this chaos in his head.
“Let the knife go.” Knox gripped his wrist and squeezed. The blade wavered. Sparks of pain shot through Mick’s arm. It was even better with Knox’s hand on the weapon than when he did it to himself. Mick shuddered as the anger slid into arousal.
“That’s perfect,” he whispered.
“Mick, stop it,” Knox said, low and calm.
Mick ignored him, concentrating on the blood. His blood. If DiLorenzo was his father, Mick deserved to suffer, too. Blood always breeds true, right? he mused, fuzzy on the details. “Like father, like son,” he muttered, swaying.
Knox grabbed his shoulder with his free hand, holding him steady. “DiLorenzo might have been your mom’s sperm donor, but he sure as shit wasn’t your father.” He squeezed Mick’s wrist harder.
Mick struggled as his fingers began to tingle unpleasantly. “Fuck! Let me go, Knox.” He didn’t want to cut his lover, not now. Maybe not ever again. His only other choice was to let go of the knife, and he didn’t want to do that either.
“Mick. This isn’t just about you.” Knox pressed his thumb into Mick’s pulse point.
Mick groaned, angry all over again, but Knox didn’t let go. He didn’t move away. Mick closed his eyes, imagining himself dying. No. That’s the easy way out of this. Before he could change his mind, he opened his fingers. The blade clattered to the floor. “I’m just like him. I like to hurt people.” The thought made him want to puke. It made him want to fuck. I’m really messed up.
“Everyone always said I took after my father, too. Doesn’t mean I’m him. Doesn’t mean you’re anything like that fucktard.” Knox put his hand over Mick’s cut. “You are who you want to be. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Knox’s clasp stung, but Mick didn’t pull away. His arousal had faded when the blade hit the floor, and now his arm just fucking hurt. “Shit.”
“Come on. Let it go.” Knox tugged on his wrist. “Your sister needs you.”
Mick licked dry lips, ignoring the sparks of pain Knox ground into his arm. “Aileen…” He glanced over at his sister. She was watching them, eyes wide. “Oh, hell.” I never wanted her to see this part of me.
“Let’s get out of here.” Knox let go of his arm. His palm came away bloody.
Mick swayed as the adrenaline abruptly drained out of his body. “Shit,” he muttered again. I’m so fucked.
Knox walked over to the wall and yanked out the knife. He walked back to Mick, picked up the blade that had fallen, and held them out. “Put ‘em away.”
Mick stared at Knox’s face. Three words, so simple, but they mean a hell of a lot more than what Knox is saying. He shook his head, but then he took the knives and slipped them into the sheaths at his wrists. He’d have to clean them later. He’d have to shower, and bandage up his arm, and hope to God that his sister forgave him for getting her involved in this disaster.
“Mick?” Aileen’s voice trembled. “Are you okay?”
She’s asking me if I’m okay? Jesus. He let out a breath and went to her. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He crouched down, putting a hand on her arm. She grabbed onto him and held on, clearly past her ability to deal with shit. “Did he hurt you?” He wanted to ask her if DiLorenzo had raped her, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud.
“No. His thugs hit me when they grabbed me, but left me alone after that. DiLorenzo just got here, right before you did. He didn’t have time to do anything, but I want to go home,” she whispered. “I want to go home right now. I was tied up the whole time, and I was really scared, but then you and Knox came. Mick—” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Shh. It’s okay. We’re going home, now. Here, stand up.” Mick hugged her tightly, then pulled her to her feet. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
She clung to him. “Promise?”
“Yeah. I promise.” Mick tucked her under his arm, not sure anymore if he was comforting her or himself. She felt familiar there, by his side. He’d been taking care of her for years, really, even though she’d lived with their aunt after their mother died. He was the one who made sure she was happy. He sent them money. And now… This time you fucked up big time. He rubbed his free hand over his face, pissed at himself all over again. His sister was an innocent.
“You know, I think I want to burn this place down,” Knox said thoughtfully, looking around at the mess. He had his hands on his hips, and the look on his face was of mild disgust, all out of whack for the massively fucked up situation they were in. “Best way to clean this shit up.” He frowned at DiLorenzo’s body as if contemplating a minor spill.
Knox’s tone and expression startled a laugh out of Mick. “The basement is made of stone, Knox. I don’t think it’s going to burn all that well.”
“There’s enough drywall and paneling to do some damage.” Knox shrugged. “And I can blow this up, easy. That’s even better than fire.” He glanced at the ceiling. “The beams there will collapse and
this will be nothing but rubble when I’m done with it.” He pointed to the heavy timbers above their heads.
Mick stared at him. “Are you being serious right now?”
Knox gave him a look.
“Huh. Yeah, okay,” Mick said, ushering Aileen toward the stairs. No sense in arguing with him. If Knox said he could do it, it would be done.
“I think burning it to the ground is a great idea,” Aileen said, voice still shaky.
Mick raised an eyebrow at Knox. “I know when I’ve been outvoted.”
“See? We all agree,” Knox said, hands on his hips. “I saw a gas stove upstairs. The line probably runs into the house down here somewhere.” He headed for the open space beyond the bodies.
“We need to do this quick,” Mick reminded him.
“It’ll only take a moment.” Knox disappeared around the corner.
Aileen shivered in his arms. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Mick asked, holding her closer.
“Was DiLorenzo your father?”
Mick sighed, stopping at the bottom step. “Maybe.”
His sister tightened her arm around his waist. “That sucks.”
It does, indeed, he thought, but he wasn’t about to admit that aloud. “It doesn’t matter even if he was. The only father I knew was the guy who gave Mom you.” He willed himself to believe what he said. If only therapy covered this kind of situation.
She smiled tremulously. “Good.”
Mick rubbed a hand down her arm. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
She shrugged, looking away. “What else is there? I knew you were a thief. I knew you had…” She paused, then took a deep breath. Her finger touched the wound on his arm. “I knew you had weird issues, but you never hurt me. And you’re my brother.” She turned her face into his shoulder. “I love you. Nothing else matters.” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I love you, too, sis.” His eyes burned. “I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”
She nodded. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself, either.”