Never: A MM, Opposites Attract, Fairy Tale Retelling Romance (The Pennymaker Tales Book 4)

by Tara Lain

  “How do I know you’ll do what you say?”

  “At the moment, you’re in no position to argue, now are you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then.”

  “Why do you want him?”

  “Not something you need to know.”

  “Are you going to hurt Peter when you get him?” He swallowed and stared at Peter.

  “Oh my, no.” He laughed. “He’s going to make me a great deal of money. Find him fast if you want John back.” He hung up.

  Slowly, Wen clicked the phone.

  Peter looked sick. “Hooker?”

  “He has John and wants you.” Michaela started to cry, and Wen wrapped her in his arms. “He says you’ll make him a lot of money.”

  Peter screamed, “Fuck!” and slammed his hand against a cardboard box.

  Michaela hiccupped and said, “We need to call the police.”

  Wen looked at Peter. “Do you agree?”

  Peter frowned. “Hooker’s got a lot of influence, and he’s pretty ruthless.” He glanced up. “He’s a drug dealer.”

  Michaela cried harder.

  Wen said, “What does he want with you?”

  Peter stared at his still bare feet. “I’m guessing there’s a reward for information leading to my whereabouts. Isn’t that the way they phrase it?” He spit out the words.

  “Who wants you?”

  “My family.”

  “Well, for crap’s sake, let them know you’re alive so Hooker gets his money and we get John!”

  He sank back on the chaise. “It’s not that simple. My family wants me to come home. They own a big business and want me to run it.”

  Wen couldn’t close his mouth. “What the hell? Have they ever met you?”

  Peter looked up and flashed a frown. “Not so’s you’d notice. When I ran away, I was in military school.”

  Wen snorted. “But you’re an adult. They can’t force you to run their stupid business.”

  He drooped his head between his folded hands. “No, I suppose not. But they’ll hound me and follow me. They’ll never stop with the private detectives and spies once they know what I look like and how I live. I’ll never be free again.”

  Michaela wailed, “John isn’t free now!”

  Wen gazed at Peter. Giving Peter back to a demanding family was like capturing a fairy in a bottle. “No. We can’t ask Peter to wreck his whole life. We’ll find another way. If we can figure out how much the reward is, maybe I can borrow that money from the agency.”

  Peter raised his head. “Last I heard, it was over a hundred grand. It’s probably more now, especially if Hooker’s negotiating it. I can imagine him holding me in place of John and blackmailing my family for even more money.”

  “Shit. How rich is your family?”

  Peter just sighed.

  Michaela snuffled. “I think we should find that Mr. Pennymaker. He liked John and Peter. Maybe he’d help us figure out what to do. We have to get John back quick. He’s got to be so scared.” She wiped her cheeks.

  Wen shook his head. “We barely know him, plus I’ve got no idea how to get in touch with him. He just showed up at Neverland.”

  Peter said, “Don’t go there. I’m not sure what Hooker would do, but I don’t want to find out.”

  “Shit!” Wen’s turn to slam a wall, but it hurt like hell. “We’ve got to do something.”

  Wen froze at the sound of big feet on the steps. He tightened his hold on Michaela and turned. Samu rushed into the basement. “Hey.” He looked startled to see Wen, but he walked straight to Peter. “We gotta get you out of here, man. Hooker’s sent out an army of his drug-dealing minions to find you. Somebody talked to the taco guy, Eddie.”

  “Damn. I was worried when he saw us.”

  “Come on. Get your shit. I don’t know how long it will take for them to figure out where you were going.”

  “Hooker has John.”

  “What?”

  Wen said, “Hooker kidnapped John. He’s holding him to get Peter back.”

  Samu’s whole face collapsed in a grimace. “That’s evil, man, but these dudes can’t get ahold of Peter either. They’re bad news. He’s got to come with me, and we’ll figure out how to get John after.” Samu grabbed a backpack, a tote bag, and Peter’s arm, and just that fast, they disappeared up the steps.

  Michaela looked up at Wen. “They’re gone. We don’t have Peter. How will we get John back?” The tears flowed on their own down her face.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here, at least.” He helped her up the stairs, then opened the door into the lobby of the building. As they walked toward the front door from the basement, Wen stopped. Staring through the glass in the door was Mr. Pennymaker.

  Michaela must have seen him too, because she gasped.

  Wen ran to the door and ripped it open. “Oh my God, how did you know we were looking for you?”

  The little man, who resembled an elf even more than Peter, if that was possible, grinned. “I didn’t, my dear. I just came to see how you’re doing.”

  “We’re doing horribly. Hooker kidnapped John and is holding him for ransom.”

  “Oh my.” His slightly bushy brows descended over his dark eyes. “That’s very bad indeed.”

  Michaela said, “We thought you might give us some advice, sir.”

  “Hmm. Not my specialty, but let’s go to your apartment and talk away from—” He waved a hand. “—ears.”

  Once again, he ascended the steps like a Sherpa and then followed Peter and Michaela into the apartment.

  Michaela asked, “Would you like some iced tea?”

  “Yes, that would be lovely.” He unbuttoned his coat that resembled a safari jacket—if they came in orange—then sat on the couch and crossed his legs, showing off the most brilliant crocodile-patterned boots the world had ever seen. He turned to Wen, who settled in a chair. “So Hooker wants Peter.”

  “He wants the reward he’ll get from turning Peter over to his family.”

  Michaela brought glasses of tea to both of them, then settled on the floor beside Wen.

  “Hmm.” Pennymaker tapped his chin. “I suspect it’s more than a desire for the reward. I doubt he’ll simply give John back to you and hand over Peter to his parents, then walk away whistling a tune. For one thing, all of you know he did this. He’s going to have to maintain some level of leverage to assure he doesn’t go to prison.”

  Wen wiped a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh man, I didn’t think of that, but I can barely believe this whole thing is happening.”

  “Yes. Mr. Hooker is certainly pushing the boundaries of fantasy with his machinations.” He leaned back. “I suppose we can test our theory by offering Hooker the amount of the reward and seeing if he takes it.”

  “I can’t, sir. Peter says it’s over a hundred thousand dollars. I don’t make that in a year, and I’m pretty sure the agency won’t lend it to me.”

  “Nonsense, my boy, I’ll offer the money. Call back Hooker and let’s see how he reacts. Don’t tell him where the money is coming from.”

  “Why would you do that? You don’t know us at all. I’m deeply appreciative of the gesture, but it will take me years to pay you back.”

  “Nonsense. I have an investment in the future of you and Peter.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Make the call.”

  Wen gazed at Mr. Pennymaker for a minute. This whole thing was weird, but it was hard not to trust the man. Hell, whatever it takes! He took a breath and hit Reply on his recent call. The phone rang once.

  “Do you have Peter?” Hooker’s voice growled.

  “Uh, no. I haven’t found him. But I think I can get the reward. How much is it exactly?”

  “You can get the reward?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  There was a brief pause. “You idiot. I want Peter. Once I have him, you and I can talk about the reward for John.”

  “Hang on. You said if you get Peter, I get J
ohn.”

  He laughed. “Yes, but that’s before I knew you could get the money.”

  “You bastard!”

  “All day long. Get me Peter fast if you ever expect to see your brother again.”

  Wen hung up. “You were right, but now he wants Peter and the money.”

  Michaela grabbed Wen’s leg, and Mr. Pennymaker smiled tightly. “As I suspected. At least we can’t be disappointed when a villain proves to be a villain. It’s not confusing.”

  A knock on the door made Wen jump a foot. “Maybe it’s Peter come back.”

  Mr. P. shook his head. “Not likely.” He rose and walked to the door like he owned the place, looked through the peephole, and opened the door. “Ah, Murphy, I see you’ve brought company.”

  Wen rose, and Michaela stood beside him.

  Mr. Pennymaker’s driver Murphy walked in, dragging a scruffy-looking guy with bad teeth. “I found this dude trying to get in the building through a side window. And I found this in his pocket.” He held up a revolver by the handle.

  Wen stepped forward. “What the hell?”

  Mr. P. stared at the gun. “Hmm. One wonders if he has a permit.” He stepped back. “Do bring him in. I have some questions I want to ask him.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Samu blocked Peter from the rest of the subway passengers with his big body. His eyes never stopped moving.

  Peter whispered, “Where are we going?”

  “I know a guy who has an apartment down by the river. He said I could use it for a day or so since he’s out of town.”

  For seven more stops, they rode in tense silence; then the subway doors opened and Samu pulled Peter out onto the platform. He glanced around and started toward the exit at speed.

  Peter stopped, and Samu nearly pulled him off his feet with his forward motion. Peter shook his head. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Come on, Peter, what? I’m telling you, those dudes are mean, and Hooker’s paying them to find you. This isn’t a game.”

  “No. But neither is John’s life.” He looked up into Samu’s dark, deep eyes. “He wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault. I’m the only one who can fix it.”

  “I’m not letting you turn yourself over to Hooker. He’ll never let you go. He’ll try to wring money out of your family forever. And I’m serious, Peter. He could hurt you bad.”

  “I’m not going to Hooker.” He pulled the phone from his pocket and turned it on, then stared at it while it did its thing. A dull gray cloud drifted over his brain.

  Samu’s big hand covered his. “Come on, Peter. I’ll think of some way to get John out of there. You can’t do this.”

  Peter looked up at him. “I should let someone else do it?”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I always said, isn’t it?” He puffed his cheeks as he sighed. “What would John and Michaela do if Wen didn’t take care of them?”

  Samu bobbed his neck to the side. “Probably go into the system.”

  “What would I do if you didn’t protect me, Samu?”

  “Oh, come on. Anybody’d be happy to take my place. No big.”

  “Wrong. I’m like Gandhi, who said it took a lot of money from his friends to keep him in poverty. I say I’m this free spirit who doesn’t want obligation to anyone, but I let you and Tink and the Boys take care of me. I think it’s time I grew up.”

  Samu smiled softly. “But don’t you see? You give us hope.”

  “It’s false hope, buddy. Nobody ever discovered the fountain of youth.” He dialed the phone.

  After two rings, a familiar voice said, “Hello?” Wary and suspicious. Right. Nobody had that number.

  “It’s Alan.” Peter barely got the words out.

  His father breathed out long and slowly. “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At home.”

  “Come to the city, and I’ll meet you wherever you say, but do it fast because your fucking investigator has gotten a friend of mine in serious trouble, and I expect you to get him out of it.”

  “After two years, you’re laying down rules?” His father hated being told what to do. It ran in the family.

  “You’re offering a boatload of money to get me back. You want me? Tell me where or I’ll hang up and you’ll never find me for the rest of your life.”

  “We’ll meet you in two hours at my club. Just tell them who you are.”

  “Okay.” He clicked off. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and took Samu’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get ice cream.”

  Two hours later, he stood outside the Executive Club and stared at the discreet sign like the portal to Hades. He reached up and gave Samu a big hug. “Thank you, my friend, for everything. If you want a role model and hope for the future, just look in the mirror.” He dropped his arms. “Would you look in on Wen every now and then? He’s like you. A really good person.”

  Samu blinked hard and nodded.

  Peter walked to the door and rang the bell. When the voice answered, he gave them his name. “This is Alan Peter Wellington, here to see my father.” The door buzzed, and he walked into the world he’d so firmly rejected two years before.

  The host who met him almost controlled his shock at seeing Peter. Right, flame-red hair and glittery green T-shirts weren’t dress code in the Executive Club.

  “Uh, right this way, sir.”

  Peter followed him through the quiet, cushy, elegant halls, stopping members in their tracks as they passed, to a double door, which the guy opened, then stepped back. “Uh, your son, Mr. Wellington.”

  Peter walked in the door, and if the host had controlled his expression, Peter’s father didn’t. “My God. You’re some kind of fairy.”

  Peter dragged his feet to the couch by the fireplace in this private room and sat. “Yes, in every sense of the word.” A pitcher of iced tea sat on the coffee table beside an empty glass, so Peter filled it. His father stood there watching him, elegant in a gray suit that matched his prematurely gray hair.

  “But I’m glad we found you, Peter.” He cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

  Peter sipped his tea and glanced up at his father. “You wouldn’t have found me, except because of your investigator flipping your hundred thou around, the eleven-year-old brother of a friend of mine has been kidnapped.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “A really despicable person named Vadon Hooker kidnapped my friend’s brother to try to get him to turn me in. I need you to use whatever influence you have to get the boy back.”

  His father sat on the love seat opposite Peter. “I can call the police.”

  “I’m afraid this asshole will hurt John, and I don’t know where Hooker’s holding him.”

  His father spread his hands. “I don’t know what else I can do besides calling the police or the FBI, since it’s a kidnapping.”

  “Hell, I could do that on my own.”

  “Yes, but then, you’re you and I’m me.”

  Would that do it? Would throwing around the Wellington money get John faster and safer than Peter could do it? “Haven’t you got some kind of back channels?”

  “I hardly associate with that sort of person, Alan. And before we go any further, we need to discuss what you’re going to do for me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to come home and join the company so that you can be groomed to take over when I die.”

  “Is that imminent?”

  His father coughed. “I hope not, but I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Shit. You’ve got boards of directors and executives and employees coming out your ass. I’m an artist. Always have been. Not changing. I haven’t got the skills or the drive or, for that matter, the education to run the company. You know that.”

  His father sipped his iced tea but didn’t meet Peter’s eyes. “Once you get out of your fa
ntasyland and into the company, all that will change. You’ll love it, Alan. It’s exciting and challenging.”

  “For you. You don’t care one eyelash what I want. You never have.”

  His father sighed deeply, and it sounded like genuine sorrow. “Your great-grandfather started this company, your grandfather grew it and passed it to me. I’ve tried to live up to the tradition. You’re the only remaining Wellington, Alan. Do you honestly want your legacy to end up outside the family?”

  Shit. It made him want to vomit that a part of his heart understood what his father was saying. Two years before, those roots had looked like chains to him. Now, not as much. “I guess I don’t have any choice. I—”

  The door to the room burst open, and Peter’s head snapped to the right.

  His father leaped to his feet. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Wen ran into the room.

  If a centaur had entered, Peter couldn’t have been more stunned. “What the hell? How did you get here?”

  Wen grinned. “Mr. Pennymaker.”

  Peter’s father said, “Carstairs?”

  Wen walked to Peter and took his hands. “Quit this.”

  “What?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving John.”

  “By surrendering your freedom to your family? Giving up your choice? Giving up your art?”

  “It’s the responsible thing to do.” Peter compressed his lips, but he swam in those beautiful eyes he’d missed seeing. “I thought it’s what you’d want.”

  “Alan, who is this man?” Peter’s father stepped closer.

  Peter dragged his eyes from Wen’s face. “This is Wen, the friend I told you about whose brother has been kidnapped because of me.” He snapped his head around and lasered his father. “Because of you.”

  Wen shook his hands a little. “Right and we’re going to save him. But not this way. You’re Peter Panachek. We’ve got to rescue John your way.”

  The pulse in Peter’s neck throbbed so hard it must have shown. “How? We don’t know where he is.”

  Wen smiled. “We do now, but we’ve got to hurry before Hooker gets wind of our plans.” He dragged him a couple of feet. “Come on.”