Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection

by K. A. Merikan

  And then there was Drake, who’d finally stopped running away. Tank didn’t harbor illusions that their lives could go back to normal, but that had to be dealt with and accepted. No one could change the past, so Tank could just hope for no more suicidal outbursts. Clover was Tank’s biggest ally in that department, and Tank had even seen them in small interactions that boded well for the future. Drake needed to heal, but he would eventually be back to his grumpy yet secretly affectionate self. Like a stray cat, he’d pretend to not care yet curl up in Tank’s lap when least expected.

  When the cabin emerged from between brown and red trees, it didn’t take long for Tank to spot his friends outside, and he relaxed.

  He parked his truck by the white van and approached the front of the building, already smelling the smoke and fresh burning wood. “Dining al fresco tonight?” he asked before Clover dashed into his arms.

  “We’re roasting brats over the fire!” Clover said with the excitement of a kid on his first scouting trip, not a twenty year old who’d been through more than he should have.

  “I’m starving.” Tank smiled and lifted Clover into his arms, squeezing him tightly.

  His boy wouldn’t appreciate what Tank was about to say, so it made sense to indulge him before the news had to be delivered. He carried Clover toward the fire pit by which the others sat, but he only got a better look at him as they approached the flames.

  “Your hair. Is it the light, or are you back to your natural color?”

  Clover kissed the side of Tank’s head, his blue eyes glowing. “You like it, Daddy?”

  “We took him shopping, and he decided he needed a hairdresser too,” Boar said and swallowed some of the painkillers he took to deal with all the pain in his recovering body.

  Clover’s cheeks went red, but he leaned closer to Tank, tilting his head so its bright color, much closer to the naturally pale hue than the dishwater blond he’d recently sported, shone in the glow of the fire.

  Clover was beautiful regardless, but the light hue complimented his skin so wonderfully Tank leaned in and kissed the top of his head. “It looks amazing,” he said, though what mattered to him more was the significance of Clover going back to the way he’d been before tragedy had struck. The fact that he no longer feared to show off his natural coloring meant he felt safer, more like himself.

  “I can’t hide who I am all my life,” Clover said when Tank put him down.

  And Tank didn’t want that either. After months of watching Clover regress to a young man scared of his own shadow, seeing him show such resilience made Tank all the more protective. He stroked the pretty, bright hair in awe, remembering just how much Clover had taken his breath away when they’d first met.

  “You won’t have to, I’ll make sure of that.”

  Clover laughed and slipped his hands into the pocket of Tank’s warm hoodie. “I have the best Daddy.”

  Tank hated that he’d have to spoil Clover’s playful mood, but that could still wait a while. “What else did you get?”

  Clover led him to the fire pit by the hand. “Marshmallows. Duh.”

  With Pyro looking as if he hadn’t had any sleep for the past two days and lounging on a large outdoor pillow, Drake seemed to have taken on the role of cook and perched a stick with three brats over the fire.

  “We got you the fat-free ones,” he said, smiling at Tank as he prepared more of the food for everyone.

  Tank groaned. “How many times do I have to say it’s carbs, not fat—never mind. Thank you anyway.”

  Clover pointed at Drake. “See? I told you!”

  Drake rolled his eyes. “Fine. You can add some mayo, dip them in lard or whatever,” he said and put some bread in a contraption made of metal before resting it by the fire.

  Tank snorted. “Thank you for making dinner, dear,” he teased, sitting with Clover on a blanket near Drake, where he could sense the intense heat of the buzzing flames.

  Drake sucked in air and glared at him like a dragon about to breathe fire. “I’ll make yours extra burning hot.”

  “He likes that too,” Clover said, cuddling up under Tank’s arm.

  It was as if the last months hadn’t even happened, and the relaxed atmosphere made Tank want to put off telling them what he’d achieved, because reality was too pleasant to spoil.

  “How are you ever gonna make a good husband if you don’t remember the little things?” Tank asked, gleefully watching Drake’s growing exasperation. It was a joy to have him around again, without the persistent gloom.

  “That’s right, Drake. Learn from the best,” Pyro said and patted Boar’s chest.

  Boar met Tank’s gaze over the fire, but his attention was soon back on Pyro, hand petting the bald side of his lover’s head.

  Pyro still wasn’t back in shape, but the persistent hunger and agitation was over, replaced by fatigue interlaced with brief outbursts. Tank hoped he’d be ready for action soon.

  “Maybe when I have a husband who deserves me remembering the little things,” Drake said, turning the stick carefully, so the heat could cook the other side of the brats.

  Boar whistled. “Buuurn, Tank!”

  Tank still snorted. “He loves me anyway.”

  Clover stroked Tank’s stomach with a menacing smile. “He is giving you sausage after all.”

  “Seriously?” Drake shook his head. “Sausage jokes? Is this how low we’ve fallen?”

  “It’s teenagehood all over again,” Pyro said, clearly back to the fond moments of fucking in bushes and creating drama out of nothing. Tank didn’t miss his teenage years.

  Tank settled his gaze on Drake in challenge, but his adversary refused to participate and focused on the toasted bread, as if it were the most interesting activity around.

  “When I was a teenager—” Clover started, but Pyro cut him off.

  “That was last year.”

  “I mean like fifteen, okay? I was so dying to lose my virginity, I offered it to my step-brother. As in, the son of my foster parents.” Clover wiggled his eyebrows, and Boar whistled again.

  “Is this the evening of truth, or something?”

  Pyro shushed him. “Wait! I wanna know what happened.”

  Clover shrugged. “I blew him, but then we got found, and I was kicked out. But he literally told his parents, he was ‘practicing for his future girlfriend’!”

  Pyro cackled, lazily stretching on the pillow. “I lost mine at a punk concert I snuck out to. And he lost his to me,” he said, sending a kiss to Boar, who rolled his eyes and bit into the dry, crispy bread.

  Drake shook his head. “Classy. Nobody needs to know any of this.”

  Tank hugged his naughty boy closer and kissed his head, savoring its texture and scent. “I do. Imagine this: I was a late bloomer and only gained a lot of confidence in the army. Had my first time when I came back home on leave. I was around twenty and met up with this one guy I knew from high school. Turned out he had a thing for uniforms. He wouldn’t give me the time of day at school, so I fucked him so hard he’d feel me for a week, and never let him on my dick again. Oh, guys… the eyes he’d make at me every time I passed through town…” Tank grinned at the memory, despite Pyro throwing a piece of bread at him.

  “Dog!”

  “Maybe you should wear a uniform for me someday?” Clover whispered, rubbing his soft mouth along the side of Tank’s neck.

  “Is that something we don’t know about you, Clo? A secret fetish?” Boar asked, accepting a plate of food from Drake. He seemed so peaceful in the warm light of the fire, tucked into a soft-looking pullover it was hard to believe he’d been through hell so recently.

  Clover snorted. “Hardly. By now you must know I love strong, toppy guys who can put me in my place.”

  A pleasant shiver ran down Tank’s back, and he stroked his boy’s hair. Clover couldn’t have been any more perfect for him. For each of them, really. He was the glue that strengthened the bonds of friendship already existing within their group, the piec
e of the puzzle that made them complete, even though their relationships with the boy were separate in nature, and varied. The bond Tank shared with Clover was different from the one Pyro had with the boy, different from Boar’s, different from Drake’s.

  No one had to go out looking for hook-ups, no one felt excluded, and the exhibitionistic nature of the sex they often shared only added spice to the relationship Tank had with his pretty boy.

  Tank’s gaze drifted above the white-blond head, to the lean form leaning toward the fire. The flames made light dance over Drake’s angular features and cast shadows that hugged the back of his body like armor. It was a secret Tank wouldn’t share with anyone, but while he enjoyed watching Pyro or Boar fuck Clover for the sight of their boy melting into a lusty mess, his feelings weren’t as straightforward when Drake was involved. He’d still act as if Clover remained his sole focus, but when those two were together, Tank’s attention often strayed to Drake’s flushed face and intense gaze. He wasn’t the twinky beauty Clover was, but handsome in this brooding way, with silky hair and eyes as dark as boiling tar.

  Drake had never been interested in him, so Tank stopped trying to get into his pants after a while, but Clover’s presence offered him an excuse for a physical closeness Drake seemed fine with. There had been the stolen touches and occasional kisses, and Earth-shattering threesomes, which had sometimes involved double penetration. He would’ve been lying if he claimed Drake’s dick rubbing against his in Clover’s tight ass wasn’t part of the appeal.

  Tank had missed Drake for all the reasons, but it was a relief to have him back as a friend, at least.

  Drake pushed the brats onto a plate and offered Tank the food, his face lit up by the warm glow of the fire as he leaned in. “Did you find out anything?”

  There it was. The question Tank had put off answering.

  He took a deep breath, but Clover looked up at him with his mouth full, and there was no avoiding it any longer.

  “On Tyrone’s phone, I found the number of a guy I used to know back in the army. I always thought he was an asshole, but we did get on just fine, so I met up with him today, pretending I’m desperate for a well-paying job, and asked him if there was anything he could hook me up with. Turns out my friend Ben not only knows Apollo but works for him. And there’s an opening for the right man.”

  Drake froze, and the plate in his hand trembled briefly until he put it down “No.”

  Clover’s gaze pierced Tank with even more intensity. He dug his fingers into Tank’s flesh, as if it were an attempt to keep him in place. “The guy’s a monster. You can’t do it. What if he finds out who you are?”

  Tank expected this reaction, so he squared his shoulders and exhaled. “That’s why we need to put him down.” His gaze darted to Boar and Pyro, who rose from his horizontal position and blinked at Tank.

  “Damn, that’s bold. What if they make you torture someone?”

  “I will take things as they come,” Tank said. “Ben told me they need to train someone up for a security job, so I doubt torture is included, but I’m sure some shit will go down. There’s always risk, but out of all of us, I am the only one Apollo doesn’t know. He’s seen Clover, Drake, and Boar, and one look at Pyro, and he’ll know by description that you were the one to cause mayhem at Boar’s last fight. Besides, Ben’s only offering the job to me, because he knows me, so he’ll vouch for me.” He bit into the brat and smiled at Drake, but the man wouldn’t even glance his way.

  Clover tightened the grip on Tank’s arm, and his pretty face remained tense. “You have to promise you’ll get out of there if things get too tough. How would you even kill him with all the bodyguards?” he asked, clearly realizing Tank’s idea made sense, even if he didn’t like it

  Tank shrugged. “I need to see how close I can get first. Then, we’ll see. Poison would be the safest way to go about it, I think.”

  “Maybe something that would look like death from natural causes?” Boar pondered. “To avoid another manhunt on our backs.”

  “Like what? Something that gives him a heart attack?” Pyro grumbled.

  Tank raised his eyebrows at Drake, who still watched the fire in silence. “I’ll call it lovejuice in my texts. See if you can acquire something like it. But it will probably be a while before I’m close enough to use it on him.”

  Drake rubbed his face. “Lovejuice? This isn’t a joke, Tank.”

  “You can call it the Spanish fly, or whatever. Let’s make it sound like some kind of aphrodisiac, so it’s not suspicious, if someone were to read my texts.”

  “Fine. I hope he dies in agony,” Drake snapped, crossing his arms on his chest.

  “You’re set on it, Tank” Boar said rather than asked, his hands closed on an empty glass.

  “I am,” Tank confirmed. He knew it was a lot to take in, but if he was to keep Clover safe, to keep all of them safe, risk couldn’t be avoided. “I’ll keep my head low. That’s a promise.”

  “How will we communicate?” Drake asked after a prolonged silence. His gaze shone with anger, but at least he was getting on board with the plan.

  “Through Cindy’s phone,” he said and took a small cell out of his pocket before handing it to Drake. “It’s registered to a woman, and we’ll flirt. Let’s use the code from the cemetery job three years ago.”

  Drake huffed, squeezing the device. “Only if you actually stick to it, not sext to me because you’re bored.”

  Clover shifted into Tank’s lap, hugging him tightly. “You can sext to me.” But Clover wasn’t laughing, just put his head on Tank’s shoulder with a sigh.

  So it was settled.

  Tank exhaled with relief and put his arm around Clover’s warm body. Drake cut the sausage for them, so Tank could easily feed both himself and the boy bite-sized pieces. They talked through some details and possibilities during the meal, but it was obvious that no detailed plans could be made before he was on the inside. So the conversation turned to mundane topics, and for once, Tank even allowed himself dessert, because, hell, how was he to know when he’d get to have s’mores with friends again?

  The atmosphere gradually got back to normal, but when Tank announced he’d be leaving around midnight, Clover let out the most heartbreaking “no” and held on to his hoodie as if it could have made him stay.

  “I know, but I can’t look like I’ve got better shit to do. From now on, I’ve got to be at Ben’s beck and call.”

  Clover wrapped his arms around Tank’s neck, drowning him in the scent of pine and smoke his hair had absorbed from the fire. Tank would have loved to stay in his boy’s arms and make love until morning, but there was only so much time if he was to make it to his appointment with Apollo’s chief of security at 10 a.m. sharp.

  “As long as you’re safe. Don’t rush it,” Drake said, pushing a cracker into his mouth as he watched the fire. Pyro previously looked as if he’d fallen asleep, but Clover’s raised voice must have woken him, because he peeked at Tank and nodded.

  “Yeah. Don’t take risks.”

  “Do what needs to be done,” Boar said, and the hard way he pinned Tank with his gaze communicated that he knew things he didn’t want to voice in Clover’s presence. But Tank was ready to push his own boundaries and rules to remain undetected—whatever got the job done and kept his boy safe,

  “Anyone else wanna tell me what not to do?” Tank didn’t want to think about any of this yet and pushed his nose into Clover’s soft, fragrant hair. “I’ll be all right, boy. You’ll see. And once I’m done, you’ll be free.”

  Clover took off his glasses, which made Tank’s stomach tingle pleasantly because it meant their kisses were about to become more intense. If there was something Tank craved before leaving, it was Clover’s soft lips.

  The boy’s slim fingers ran along Tank’s neck, and Tank had no doubt they’d help him forget the approaching danger.

  “Will you give me a kiss I’ll remember for as long as I’m gone?” he whispered, capturing the blu
e gaze, which flickered like the fire, only hotter, more intense than the flames.

  Clover nodded, choked up as if Tank was going off to war. “I know you have to do this, but I still hate it,” he said, and as he spoke, his lips rubbed against Tank’s stubble.

  Clover could be so stubborn, focused, even deadly, but turned gooey like that marshmallow between the crackers when in Tank’s arms. So delicious that Tank already wanted another serving of him.

  “I know. I know you do, baby boy. But I’ll be cautious, all cold and unfeeling, because I’ll leave the real me with you,” he said, brushing his lips against Clover’s ear as he gently guided him to lie on the blanket.

  Clover’s cheeks bloomed with a dark flush, as if they hadn’t had sex countless times. Even Pyro’s rude whistle followed by a slap to his shoulder wouldn’t stop Tank from delving into Clover’s plaint mouth. He would fight for his boy. He’d fight until he knew for certain Clover would never have to live in fear again.

  “I want to remember all of you,” he said and pulled the zipper of Clover’s hoodie down.

  Sprawled under him, Clover remained submissive, his big eyes watching Tank every step of the way. He always so beautifully tuned into what Tank craved. The others sat around the fire chatting, but the two of them were in their own little bubble.

  “This memory will have to last me ages, so it better be good,” Clover teased, despite the growing desperation in his kisses.

  All of this loveliness was Tank’s, and he wanted to feel the warmth of Clover’s adoration until the day he died.

  Clover’s top was off soon, revealing rosy skin that in the light of the fire had a warm, golden tint. Tank wanted to memorize every square inch of it, to bring back its touch, its taste, all the beauty spots, when he was alone somewhere beyond enemy lines. With his face buried in the warm crook of Clover’s neck, he pulled up his hoodie and let his bare skin rest against Clover’s, until their hearts thumped in the same rhythm.

  “Don’t catch a cold before you go,” Drake grumbled and, to Tank’s surprise, covered them with a blanket.