Clover only realized what it was about when an explosion shook the ground under their feet and made the equipment rattle as if it was about to fall off the walls that were at risk of crumbling.
Tank hummed, and Clover could practically see him smile under the mask. “That would be Pyro. Stay here,” he said and switched off the light, drowning the shed in darkness.
Clover wanted to say something, grab Tank’s hand, but that would just prolong the agony of parting. Once they got out of there, he would double—no, triple the effort he put into training so that his men wouldn’t have to constantly watch his back. He would show Tank he was trustworthy and capable, too.
For now, he hugged the gun and kneeled to peek out through a tiny gap between the planks that made up the wall. The barking continued, getting more ferocious as more gunshots erupted in the distance.
Clover’s attention focused on the nearby wall. It was high, but there were no roofs looming behind it, which meant that the small door hidden behind a bush might lead out of the property. A way to freedom.
His flesh burned with the itch to check if it wasn’t open. Maybe he could have even shot the lock and left the danger zone, but the promise he’d made compelled him to wait. He tried to even out his breathing, playing a game where he tried to guess all the smells prevalent in the shed.
Lavender.
Grass.
Hay.
He watched a large spider attempt to repair its web, which had been damaged by the movement of the door.
He tried not to think too much about the bullets flying toward the only people in the world who’d ever given a damn about him. They were professionals. They knew what they were doing. His presence would put them in more danger.
So he waited.
Waited.
Until the dull sound of hurried footsteps made his body hair bristle. For a split second, he hoped it was one of the guys, but even before he spotted the hunched figure in the dark, he knew none of them moved so gingerly. Even Drake.
The person was much smaller too, and Clover noticed heels on her feet before moonlight illuminated her face when she passed the shed.
Diana.
Clover went rigid, instantly breaking out in sweat under Drake’s hoodie and gripping the gun tighter. Was no one following her? Did they even know she was here? If he only had a headset too, he could have informed Tank where their target was, but that wasn’t an option.
Clover bit his lip hard to not scream in frustration when he saw the monster of a woman open her dog’s cage and coo as if it were a baby.
The giant animal yapped with excitement, and while Clover couldn’t see the cage without leaning out of the shed, his hand itched on the firearm in his hand. Diana was about to run. The person Tank said needed to die if Clover was to remain safe was so close Clover could shoot both her and the dog at close range and be done with it forever. Without the means to call for backup, wouldn’t that be the logical choice to make? After all, every rule had exceptions, and if she did manage to get out of here, then he’d forever have to watch his back.
His palms sweated around the gun, but when a bark came from far too close, Clover fell on his ass, backing away from the door. No. He couldn’t do that. He promised he would wait. What if the guys had a plan, and Clover spooked her?
He needed to trust his men and their experience. No matter how much sense it seemingly made not to, he would follow the plan.
The shooting ceased, and in the void that was left, the clicking of Diana’s heels sounded like an onslaught of bullets about to reach him.
Clover’s throat tightened when the dog growled beyond the thin wooden door, and Clover clutched at the gun, ready to pull the trigger if she opened the shed. But only then. Only if his life was at risk and he needed to defend himself.
“What is it Mylo? Come on, we have to go,” Diana insisted, but she approached regardless, the clicking of her heels as ominous as the theme music of Jaws.
Where was a stray cat or mouse to distract her when it was needed?
Clover gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. Killing her, no matter how much of a psycho she was, wouldn’t be easy. Technically, it was, if he aimed right, but he’d never killed a person. Had never taken a life. What would it feel like? Would he even be able to make that choice when faced with another human being, even one as cruel as Diana?
He breathed loudly, unable to calm down, but he was ready to leave the life of an innocent behind if she entered.
Next thing he heard was a click, and then the door burst open, revealing Diana standing there like the goddess of death, one hand holding the collar of the German shepherd, the other—a gun. “Get out with your hands up, and I’ll consider killing you fast instead of letting my dog do the job. How dare you ruin my menagerie? Do you have any idea how many years of work I’ve dedicate—”
One shot was enough to silence her, but he wasn’t the one who’d pulled the trigger. Clover gasped when the side of her head burst, blood spilling where she fell with a dull thud. Her dog dashed to the side, barking like a demon spawn, but he only got a second longer than his mistress before a single bullet put him down.
Clover froze, afraid to as much as breathe as he stared at the bloody scene, but the soft voice coming from outside had him melting into a puddle.
“Clover? You can come out.”
Drake. It was Drake!
Clover scrambled to his feet and burst outside, stepping over the bleeding corpse in search of protection. Drake was a couple steps away from the shed when Clover spotted him, and they reunited in a movie-worthy hug that smelled like gunpowder and cigarettes. Drake, of course, had to spoil the dramatic mood by patting Clover’s bare ass.
“Might have to dress you like this more often.”
Clover pressed his face against Drake’s neck, unwilling to take in any more of the carnage. “It’s not funny! Is she really dead? Is Tank okay?”
Drake gave Clover’s hand a short squeeze and kneeled by the limp body. “She’s dead all right. Straight in the temple,” he said, pushing his hands into her pockets, only to produce a bundle of keys, which he presented to Clover. “Bingo.”
Clover’s gaze darted toward the menagerie. “But… what about the others?”
Drake rose, extending his hand for Clover’s. “We have our friend listening on to the police radio. They’ll be here in the next ten minutes. But we need to be gone by then.”
“But you’re sure the police are coming?”
Drake stroked Clover’s hair, already leading him through the garden. “Yes, the others will be helped. Tank’s okay, he’s waiting for us at the helicopter. Did they… hurt you?”
Clover stared up at Drake so intently he stumbled over some rock, but Drake held him up. Of course he did. “No. You came in time.”
He knew what Drake meant. He worried that despite them saving him, it was too late and Clover had been violated. Once more, Clover had been saved from even a day of what Drake had lived for years.
Drake stayed silent for a while but then pulled Clover close and kissed his head through the balaclava. He didn’t need to speak. Drake would always be there for him.
Maybe one day, Clover would be able to return the favor.
Epilogue – Tank
The sun was milder so late in the day, and its position in the sky no longer warranted the use of sunglasses. In the peace of their home in Oregon, away from prying eyes, Tank and his crew could spend their afternoon however they liked.
Pyro was making magic happen on the grill while Boar stood at his side with beer and a magazine they were both snorting at. Tank used the spare time before dinner to accommodate more time for exercise, and Drake? He seemed to have most fun of them all.
Clover stood on one leg, with the other hung parallel to the ground. It was bent in the knee, and the cuff on his ankle—attached to the boy’s long braid, which kept his back awkwardly bent. Drake had him tied to the branch above with a rope, which in turn forced Clover to either
stand on his toes or have the rope apply more pressure to his hair and raised leg. It was an impossible position, but Clover’s hard cock was shiny with pre-cum as he moaned through the ball-gag in his mouth.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Boar looked up from his magazine.
It wasn’t the first time he was asking. After over a year, he should know it took much more than that to break their slutty boy. A bit of bondage was hardly an issue.
Drake frowned at Boar, stroking Clover’s side. “Are you questioning my competence?”
“Just saying it looks a bit rough.”
Drake stroked Clover’s pale neck, pressing to him from the back. “What do you think? Is it too much?” He twisted Clover’s nipple and the boy uttered a strangled moan that had Tank dropping to the grass and pay closer attention to the play.
Pyro pointed to them with his beer. “See? He agrees.”
Drake chuckled, tugging at Clover’s erect cock. “He has a safety signal, and I don’t see him using it.”
Clover opened his eyes and lowered his heel to the ground, only to groan when the rope forced his spine and raised leg into a contorted position. Tank could swear Drake came up with ever-crueler ideas for bondage as time passed. Clover’s pale flesh was always a treat to watch, but when Clover shifted back to the original position and his reddened buttocks came into view, Tank’s enjoyment was colored by something more.
Satisfaction.
He’d been the one to make those two perfect mounds of flesh change color. It was a rule that Clover slept in Tank’s bed unless he’d asked for permission to stay with someone else. Last night, he’d been too lazy to come over and texted Tank instead, though judging by the regularity with which that happened, Tank suspected it was a conscious provocation on Clover’s part. The kind of spanking he got for such small transgressions was hardly cruel, and always ended in cuddles and sex.
Boar walked up to Clover with a napkin and wiped the drool dripping from Clover’s gagged mouth. “Isn’t it time to eat anyway?”
Pyro snorted and grabbed his own dick through jeans. “I sure have an appetizer for Clo before he may get some steak.”
“How about that, Clover?” Drake purred into the boy’s ear. “I bet that slutty mouth wants dick more than food. You’d just live on cum if you could, wouldn’t you?”
Clover mewled, but when he moved in the restraints, they only pulled on his hair again.
What a sight.
Tank wasn’t just thinking about Clover and his white hair and pristine skin. He made a pretty picture with Drake. Tank had known their brooding friend for seven years, and no one had managed to make the tiniest crack in his frosty exterior before Clover. He’d had a couple of bondage partners in the past, but he’d always been alert around them, and none of them had the courage (or audacity) to tease a man as dangerous as Drake either.
But Clover was pliant when it counted and sassy when it made sense. His presence encouraged Drake to experiment and made him feel less threatened by other people. Drake and Tank still weren't sexually compatible, but at least he no longer flinched when Tank stood too close. They now hugged, maybe not all the time, but tenderness was no longer completely rejected. Tank liked Drake in his own way and appreciated the possibility of kissing his head in the kitchen, or post-coital hugs—little things Drake hadn’t previously allowed.
So Tank relaxed and watched as Clover shivered in pleasure as Drake’s hand moved to cup his throat, leaning into his lover despite the discomfort of the bondage. Drake’s mouth twitched with a smile, and he very slowly licked Clover’s lips where they stretched around the rubber ball.
Tank was getting horny from the sight alone.
“The burgers are done,” Pyro announced, and placed the first patty on a plate, which Boar carried toward the tree. “Clover you need to try this.”
Drake stepped back and removed the gag from Clover’s lips. He was always very particular about the bondage and didn’t allow others to tinker with it in his scenes, but Tank supposed this was a family picnic of sorts.
“I’ll be setting you free soon.”
“Finally. My torment is over,” Clover said but grinned and winked at Tank. The boy was insatiable, and Tank loved him for it.
Boar gave him a peck on the lips and soon followed it with a piece of the meat, which he put to Clover’s lips on a flat palm, as if he were feeding a sugar cube to a horse.
Clover needed to eat a lot of protein, considering how adamant he was about keeping up with his training. He’d gained a lot of muscle definition this past year, and while Tank had at first believed his enthusiasm would eventually dampen, he seemed to enjoy the exercise.
And this was what worried Tank. At some point, Clover’s newly-developed combat skills would be put to the test, and he didn’t know how he felt about Clover facing danger with the intent to challenge it rather than flee.
Drake believed Clover was ready to join them for work, and Pyro had even organized a combat exercise, which Clover had passed with flying colors, but Tank was still doubtful about throwing his boy into shark-infested waters.
So he was good at simulated fights. Real-life violence wasn’t a game, and its consequences went far beyond the bruises and scratches Clover suffered during exercise.
And what if Clover couldn’t keep up with the rest of them?
What if he got injured?
It stressed Tank as much as Clover prodding Pyro for motorcycle driving lessons.
Tank went back to his push ups, desperate to get rid of the sudden tension in his body.
Boar was still feeding Clover as Drake took his time removing the rope from Clover’s body. The marks it left on the pale skin always made Drake want to fuck Clover that bit harder.
“Maybe we could go visit the Steel Horde for a while?” Pyro asked.
Boar snorted. “Itching for trouble?”
“Oh, come on, you must be getting a bit of cabin fever too. We haven’t gone anywhere in a while. Don’t we need to renew some contacts and shit?”
Tank swallowed, rising off the grass to join the others closer to the grill. “It’s been a while since we’ve taken on a job.”
His bank account was in healthy condition, but things could always change. He did itch for action, of course, but the fear of losing all he’d built always loomed somewhere beyond the horizon. Tank had learnt first-hand what it meant to have nothing, and one could never know where life took them. It was always a good idea to have spare capital.
The whole ‘human zoo’ monstrosity had long faded from the news, and no police came knocking at their door, so at least that was off Tank’s mind. He shuddered just thinking about the poor souls who’d been trapped by Diana. Their stories made quite the headline, and one of them had even written a book about their ordeal.
Drake gently massaged Clover’s wrist before pulling him close and squeezing his still-hard cock. “Can it not wait? We’ve got a shibari class in Seattle next week.”
Tank’s brain jarred at the indecent sight in front of him. The sun caressed Clover’s light skin as he arched against Drake, face serene with joy while Boar fed him another bit of the burger. He was joyful like a cute little puppy.
Tank supposed work could wait, but sooner or later, they needed to get back to business and the job he’d found sounded perfect.
Next week then.
Their Bounty - The end
Their Obsession
(Four Mercenaries #2)
--- Loved. Protected. Shattered. ---
Clover has found love with not one man, but four. He never imagined such a relationship could work, let alone that he’d be at the center of it, but a year later, his bond with the four mercenaries stronger than ever.
Each man in Clover’s life completes him in a whole different way. Where Drake teaches him shibari, Boar always showers him with cuddles. Where Tank is strict and protective, Pyro takes Clover on wild adventures.
To truly become a part of the mercenary crew, Clover chose to tra
in under the guidance of his men. He’s itching for action to prove to himself and to others that he can handle the toughest jobs.
But through violence and mayhem, Clover will be tried in ways he never wished for. Old enemies resurface, bonds are tested, and one wrong move can mean death.
*
THEIR BOUNTY is a dark gay harem contemporary romance, book 2 in the “Four Mercenaries” trilogy. The story contains scenes of explicit violence, offensive language, morally ambiguous characters and lots of scorching hot, emotional, explicit scenes.
POSSIBLE SPOILERS:
Themes: polyamory, mercenaries, bounty hunters, albinism, commitment issues, dark past, male bonding, human trafficking, size difference, danger, alpha male, found family, size difference, distrust, shared, victim and protector, revenge, organized crime
Length: ~70,000 words
Chapter 1 – Clover
“Open wide,” Clover said and picked up a sushi roll with chopsticks. He wasn’t proficient at it yet, since Drake had only taught him how to use them last month, but he was trying.
They’d left Seattle early in the morning so they could arrive home for lunch, but they’d both gotten too hungry on the way to resist a quick snack. Drake laughed as he chewed on his food, completely relaxed, as if Clover hadn’t helped him through violent night terrors just two days ago.
But maybe this was what Drake needed to be his happiest self? Beautiful woods around, country music blowing from the speakers, and no obligations to anyone but the pretty boy at his side.
“We can’t have too much. The guys’ll kill us.”
“I know, I know, I’ve heard Pyro’s got some serious barbeque plans, so I wanna stay hungry. Also…” Clover licked his lips and leaned over to kiss Drake’s cheek. “I don’t like to fuck on a full stomach, and I’m pretty sure the guys have missed me.”
Drake showed his teeth. “I bet they’ll enjoy all you’ve learnt on this trip,” he said and put his arm around Clover.
Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection Page 28