Accidental Roots The Series Volume 1: an mm romantic suspense box set

by Elle Keaton

  Forty-Nine

  FORTY-EIGHT

  The agent who came over to make sure he wasn’t set on fire, abducted, or just plain shot point blank was Weir. Weir was not very happy about it. He tried to cover this up by being extra genial and trying to chat, but Micah told him to save it and went and shut himself in his bedroom.

  He showered again, and when he came back out, Weir had made himself at home in his dad’s study.

  “Is this seriously the same desktop your dad had? This thing is a dinosaur. But,” he tapped on the keys, and Micah realized the thing was powered up, “it’s like taking candy from a baby. I was breaking into these before puberty,” he said gleefully.

  Bemused, his bad mood down the drain with the shower, Micah responded, “It is. I haven’t changed a whole lot here. I guess you can tell.”

  “Sure can. What I want to know is, why has no one ever looked at this? Your dad was a DA. I just don’t understand.”

  “He—they all—died in a car accident. Not a—a hit or something.” Probably. Maybe. Probably not. The suspicion was banging around in his brain after the last couple of days. Weir had said something similar the other day. Micah had tried to set it aside, but he kept dragging it out of his mental lockbox and turning it over and over.

  “How do you know? Did anyone ever look? Or ask? I’ve seen that file, and the way it was investigated was appalling. And you want to know something else top secret?” Weir spit out “top secret” like it was a joke. “Our guy, Parks, was a rookie traffic officer called to the scene. He stayed with the investigation all the way until it was declared an accident. Coincidence? Maybe yes, maybe no, but his current affiliations say ‘no’ to me.”

  “Excuse me a moment.”

  Micah was in front of the toilet, vomiting up the stale croissant and black coffee he’d had with Adam at the motel. Weir was knocking on the bathroom door; luckily Micah’d had the sense to lock it. He stayed in the small room for a long time, leaning against the counter. They had all been gone for years; did it matter why they died? In the end he decided no, and while he hoped for justice, he refused to fall back into the hole he had been living in since their deaths.

  When Micah emerged from the bathroom, he found Adam in the living room eviscerating Weir. He had apparently come back just in time to witness the aftermath of Weir’s deductions.

  Micah’s family was gone. Nothing he could do would bring them back—not now, not years ago. It was truly time to move on. Leaning against the cold porcelain bowl had brought him to his senses.

  “Adam, stop. Weir did nothing wrong.”

  Both of them stared at him—had he grown horns or two heads while he was hiding in the bathroom? Adam regarded him warily before speaking. “He didn’t need to announce shit like that.”

  “I am so sorry.” Weir’s voice cut across Adam’s.

  Micah ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his neck. “I know you weren’t being malicious. I overreacted. Besides, I had already guessed as much.” He sighed and motioned for Adam to come to him. “You’re trying to protect me. I get that. I think people have been trying to protect me for too long. Brandon is the worst offender. I should never have stayed here in Skagit after the funeral. I let myself wallow. You woke me up.” Adam’s belt loops were handy; Micah used them to pull him closer.

  Weir sighed and started gathering his things. “This is the part where neither one of you needs me at all. I’m going to go hang out at the coffee place. Let me know when all the R-rated stuff is over with; I am definitely too young for that.”

  They heard the front door shut behind him.

  Micah bent down so he could lay his head on Adam’s shoulder and press his nose into the comforting crook of Adam’s neck to breathe him in. Adam smelled like the outdoors, a bit of wood smoke, and probably his deodorant. It was intoxicating. “I need you to let me be your equal.”

  He felt Adam stiffen.

  Micah felt himself heating up with a monster blush. He pulled away and made his way to the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder, “I meant just quit trying to fix everything or protect me all the time, okay? I’m a big kid.”

  He was a big kid who felt overwhelmingly stupid. From Adam’s reaction, it was possible he did not feel the same about Micah, even after the conversation at the ER. He shut his eyes to regain his emotional balance before Adam could bolt. The fridge seemed like a good place to go. He opened the door, looking at nothing, just letting the cold air waft out. Maybe a cheese omelet would be good. Cheese was always good.

  Adam grabbed his hips, pulling him back. His breath huffed against Micah’s neck.

  “I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you made a seriously wrong assumption.” He turned Micah to face him, his expression serious. “I’m a guy, Micah. A guy who has lived his adult life alone up until now. The only person I’ve shared my feelings with is myself. I’ve never had anyone. Yeah, I’ve fucked guys, but I’ve never been with someone I felt comfortable enough to talk to. You are a strong man who brings me to my knees. And I mean that quite literally.” He grinned wolfishly. “Coming back here, to Skagit, after so many years . . . all I expected was to put some ghosts to rest. Instead, I found you. I found you, I found Ed and Sara and that fucker Buck who nearly got you killed—”

  “He saved my life,” Micah interjected.

  “Yeah, I guess. But out of all those living people I have found here, you are the one who is the most amazing to me. You are already my equal.”

  Adam’s mouth came down on his with a ferocity Micah fed off. Nothing about the kiss was gentle. Micah wasn’t, either; he was hard and fierce. He needed to show Adam, to have him know Micah was strong, too.

  When they came up for air, Micah’s arms were tight around Adam.

  “This has happened so fast,” Micah said. “My mom used to tell me that when she met my dad, she knew he could be the one for her. They dated for a while but kept it pretty cool because my grandparents, my mom’s, were super-religious and made things hard for them. But she said she knew. I asked my dad about it once.” He shook his head. “I must have been such an annoying child. He said he’d seen her on campus for a while but been afraid to talk to her. She was loud and always with a group of friends. He finally followed her to class one day and pretended he was taking that class, too, so he could sit next to her and get to know her. I told him I thought that was probably stalking, and he laughed. He not only met his future wife, he sat in on a pre-law seminar and ended up becoming a lawyer.” He found himself smiling at the memory.

  Adam dragged him to the couch. That couch had seen more use in the past weeks than in the past decade. Micah was thinking he should have it bronzed. “You need to lighten up on Weir, too,” he said.

  “Yeah?” Adam was smiling, though.

  “Yes. I think he’s a nice guy. He didn’t mean to upset me.”

  “I guess. We just have a history.” Adam leaned into Micah. What they were doing now had nothing to do with sex. “Mohammad assigned him as my partner a while back, but—”

  “You haven’t been a partner kind of person? I bet you have a reputation as a hard-ass. A real ball-breaker, huh?”

  “Not wrong. I worked hard to earn that rep. Now I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure?”

  “Not sure it was the right way. I was all about results.”

  “Did you get results?”

  “Yeah. The highest consistent success rate on my team.”

  “You brought closure to a lot of people? Talked for victims who couldn’t anymore, that’s what you said.”

  Adam shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Then it was the right way. I wish someone had worked like you have for my family.”

  “I don’t know if I want to do it that way anymore. I think I might need to change something up.”

  “That’s okay, too. Because maybe it’s someone else’s turn. Right?”

  They sat like that, not talking any
more, just leaning into each other, for several hours. When Micah’s stomach growled, Adam laughed and they got up and went into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. Adam’s cell rang and he ignored it. Then Micah’s rang, so Adam looked at his missed call with resignation.

  “I’ve got to take this; it’s Mohammad.”

  He didn’t say anything when he got back, but he also didn’t look grim, so Micah took that as a win. Around midnight, after sandwiches and a couple beers, they fell into Micah’s bed curled around each other, the most natural thing in the world. Micah felt a bubble of happiness well up, and he drifted off with a smile on his face.

  The stupid sun was streaming in the bedroom window, hitting him directly in the face. All he wanted to do was snuggle back into the warm blankets. He could hear a faint clicking and knew Adam was somewhere close by. Finally he could not deny reality anymore and opened his eyes. Adam was sitting at the desk Micah had set up in his bedroom, nothing on but sleep pants and a pair of reading glasses. Who knew they could be so sexy? Adam must have felt Micah’s gaze; his gorgeous brown eyes met Micah’s with explicit invitation.

  “You want breakfast first?” Adam stretched his back, and Micah wanted to lick him from the sexy dark hair surrounding his navel to where his nipples peaked. Micah’s cock, already half-mast because he wasn’t dead, filled further, pushing against the fabric of the stupid pants he was wearing.

  “No way. I can’t believe we fell asleep last night; what a waste.”

  “Oh, you say the sweetest things.” Adam laughed.

  “Get over here, Clark Gable, and fuck me senseless.” Micah pulled his flannel pants off and threw the sheet aside. He stroked himself while watching Adam strip and come to the bed. He never got tired of seeing him naked. His broad chest, narrow waist, an ass Micah could bounce a quarter off. A swell of pride hit him that this beautiful man had somehow chosen him.

  “What are you thinking?” Adam asked. “It had better be about how you are going to prep your ass for my dick, and not some other bullshit.”

  “Now who’s being sweet?” Wow, that turned him on. The lube in his bedside drawer hadn’t expired yet—thank you, silicone gods—and the cool gel, slick against his fingers and then pressing against his hole, intoxicated him. Adam stood next to the bed and stroked himself. His penis, nice and thick but not porn-star long, jutted out proudly from its nest of dark hair. Micah rolled onto his stomach so he could reach himself better.

  “Oh shit, baby, let me do that,” Adam whispered.

  Fifty

  FORTY-NINE

  Mohammad Azaya had come and gone, a whirlwind of ruthless efficiency, concentrated energy, and dazzling intellect. He came, he saw, he took most of the team with him when he left. The only member of Adam’s team still in Skagit—apart from Adam, of course —was Weir.

  The guy was all sharp suits, like the rest of the team (though Micah had to imagine that part for Adam), but his suit scarcely hid the remnants of a surfer dude. Weir’s blond hair was probably not short enough to pass inspection, and he had five-o’clock shadow every time Micah saw him. The guy could easily have been a model, except for the fact that he appeared to be a computer genius. Micah figured that was what made him a fed and not a beach bum.

  The consensus was that Matveev and his cronies had left the Skagit area for the time being. Their cabins and various homes were vacant. The auto-repair shop had a hand-lettered sign on the door proclaiming it closed for the time being.

  Adam insisted Mohammad had left Weir behind to punish him—Adam, not Weir. Micah wasn’t so sure; with the way Weir warily watched him, Micah figured it was Weir feeling punished.

  The three of them were in the Booking Room. Micah and Adam were waiting for Ed and Buck. Weir was sulking over a drip coffee the size of Manhattan. The motel room where he’d been stuck after everyone else left was “lifted directly from the set of The Shining.” The man looked tired.

  The list on the table in front of Adam was what he had left to take care of. Ed and Buck were going to help with that. Gerald’s house was finally empty. The salvage company had come and taken everything that wasn’t nailed down. Ed was going to spend some significant time with hammer and nails before Adam had cleaners come in

  The yard was Buck’s. Micah had made Adam promise he wouldn’t yell at the guy any more for the wild car escape. After all, the Duke sustained some pretty horrific damage in the process of saving Micah’s life. Buck was bringing his flatbed and taking the rest of the big things from the yard. A couple refrigerators, sinks, and random scrap metal.

  “How old was your dad?” Micah asked out of the blue.

  “Huh? Early eighties, maybe mid.”

  Ed and Buck came in, and while they were all shuffling around so they fit at the table, Micah asked Ed the same question. Ed chuckled and ran his hand over his scruffy beard, thinking.

  “Gerald was funny about his age. He was older than he looked. I think he was closer to ninety than eighty. When I first met him, he said he was in his thirties. That was in 1970. But things he said over the years made me recalculate. I think he was about ten years older. Didn’t really matter, because we all behaved like jackasses anyway.”

  Adam did not seem surprised by that. “He was born at a time when it was a lot easier to fake stuff like that, for sure.”

  “But why?” Micah asked. He’d been just asking a question, and now there was another mystery.

  “Vanity? He always had a girl hanging on. Even when I was in high school, there would be women. Not at the house like when I was young,” Ed looked embarrassed, and Adam continued, “but they would call or, God forbid, stop me at the grocery store—or, one time, at the gym—and ‘check in’ on him. It was horrifying.”

  “I just think it’s weird,” Micah said.

  The house and property would be finished in the next few days. On closer examination, only one of the cars was fully salvageable. Buck was ecstatic to rebuild it. He kept repeating, “I won’t let you down, man.” Micah knew nothing about cars, but he’d looked the Pontiac up on the internet and it would be a beauty when it was finished; they all would.

  Weir hadn’t added anything to their conversation. He was still hunched over, sulking into his coffee. At the mention of Adam’s dad, he’d perked up.

  Ed was watching Adam, his head cocked to the side as if he was thinking. “Did Gerald ever tell you anything about his life?”

  “Not that I remember. I mean, obviously, I know things from being around him. But no, he never told me much. I know—I thought,” he corrected himself, “that he grew up in California and came up here in the 1950s. He was always going on about being blue-collar. Like it mattered. I never met my grandparents, on either side. And until recently I supposedly had no siblings.” He stopped for a minute, thinking. “Looking back, yeah, it was strange, but at the time I didn’t know any better.”

  The door jingled as someone pushed it open. Micah had his back to it, so he couldn’t see who came in. Ed and Adam both looked as if they had seen a ghost. Micah turned in his seat so he could see what—who—they were looking at.

  A tallish younger guy was standing just inside the door, squinting a bit as if his eyes were adjusting to the lights inside the Booking Room. He had long dark hair and dark eyes; he was rumpled, his jeans well-worn, his sweatshirt frayed at the wrists and neckline. His resemblance to Adam was undeniable, although his skin was lighter and his body leaner.

  “Well, shit,” Ed whispered.

  The sound carried to the front of the shop, and the man’s shoulders stiffened as he pivoted to look straight at their table. He had a wary expression and, even though he had been the one to enter the coffee shop, he looked like he’d been cornered. Wild, Micah thought; the stranger looked like a wild creature.

  They all stared at each other for long moments before Ed stood, motioning the man over. The piercing sound of steaming milk broke the uncomfortable silence, and the murmur of conversation began to rise again. Ed was shaking the ma
n’s hand. He still looked like he was about to bolt out the door but allowed Ed to drag him over to their table.

  “Adam, this is Seth Culver.”

  “Yeah, another one of the things my late father neglected to tell me,” Adam said bitterly.

  “What Adam means is, he’s really glad to meet you, Seth. He’s had a stressful few weeks, but he’ll come around,” Micah interjected.

  Adam pinned Micah with a death glare. “But, yeah.” He stood and stuck a hand out toward Seth. “I’m Adam; I guess we’re related.”

  Micah didn’t know what to do with himself. He started to get up and leave, but Adam’s warm hand was at the small of his back. “This is Micah, my . . .” Such a dork moment, but Adam looked up just as Micah looked down, emotion flickering through Adam’s eyes as he smiled. “My boyfriend.”

  “Yeah?” Micah smiled back at him.

  “Yeah.”

  Seth was ill at ease, and Micah didn’t think it was the gay thing. In fact, he got a vibe from Seth that made Micah almost 100 percent sure it wasn’t the gay that made him tense. But the guy had come fifteen hundred miles to meet a brother who until recently didn’t know he existed.

  Ed looked guilty. Micah wondered if this meeting had been staged. The last he knew, Adam hadn’t called Seth, as they had been distracted by everything. He wondered how Ed had gotten a hold of him.

  Weir watched the exchange in silence, but when Seth moved to sit down, he vacated his own chair, offering it up. “I’m going to grab another coffee.”

  “Jesus, Weir, you’re going to need an intervention soon,” Adam said.

  They all laughed a little too loudly and watched while Weir made his way to the counter.

  “Where?” Seth asked, his voice so quiet Micah had to strain to hear him.

  “No, W-E-I-R,” Adam responded. “His first name is Carroll, but don’t let him know I told you,” Adam said at full volume.

  “You are the biggest as—” Weir got out before Sara intervened with, “Children!”