The Long Way

by May Archer

  “Well, it seems to me that your associates negotiated without you, Senator Shaw,” Damon spat.

  Shaw pushed his lips together, and watched Cain trembling in Damon’s arms. His jaw firmed.

  “Cain. Tell me, yourself, son. Is that what happened?”

  Cain lifted his head, his eyes red and shattered. “You want to know what happened? You want to know? You found out Damon was alive at the fundraiser, you went after his sister and terrorized a preschooler.” He shook his head. “Damon and I moved Chelsea to a safe house, but you used me… used my phone… to track us. Your associates shot at us. And who the hell knows what’s happening to Chelsea and Molly!” He turned to Damon, panic in his gaze. “We need to get in touch with Eli,” he whispered. “We need to make sure they’re okay!”

  Damon gripped his shoulder tightly, trying to reassure him. But in truth, he was more than a little panicked himself. His sister. His niece. Fuck.

  “You’re wrong!” Shaw passed a trembling hand over his face. “You’re… you’re wrong. I didn’t know Damon was alive until the day after the fundraiser when I was informed by security. I didn’t know you were with him. I didn’t…” He wandered to the window, shaking his head. “I haven’t authorized anything involving Mr. Fitzpatrick’s sister and niece.”

  He turned to look at Cain and Damon. “I’m sure you don’t believe me. That’s fine. But it’s the truth. I didn’t know.”

  “You would have used them,” Damon said. “You just threatened them right here in front of us.”

  “Maybe… I don’t… Yes,” Shaw admitted. “To protect my family, to keep my son safe, yes I would. But I would never have authorized this.”

  “How much does your authorization mean?” Cain asked softly. He shook his head. “You think you have these monsters on a leash, like attack dogs you can use when you need them. But time and again, they show you that you are the one in chains. They manipulate you, they use you, they get you to do unspeakable things. What the fuck makes you think they give a shit what you authorize? What makes you think they give a shit about breaking your deal?”

  Shaw’s jaw hardened. “They know I have information on them. Names, dates, videos, records of financial transactions, and all the things Levi provided them. Adam can’t take me out.”

  “But he can sure as fuck threaten you,” Damon said in disgust. “They know exactly how to do that. How to make sure you stay their obedient little lapdog.” He looked the senator in the eye. “I am not taking this deal. I am not like you, not even a little. If I have to make hard choices to protect what’s essential, then you need to know, Cain is essential. I will protect him, and my sister and niece, and my brother.”

  Damon moved his hands forward, used his thumbs to lift Cain’s chin so he could stare into Cain’s eyes. So blue, so fucking lost. “I am not Jesse,” he said again. “I am not going to let him manipulate me. Cain, for God’s sake, tell me you believe me.”

  “I do believe you.” It was that fast, that easy. “But Damon, Chelsea and Molly. You can’t just say…”

  “Right now, baby, I don’t believe for a second your father could protect them even if he wanted to. He couldn’t even protect you.” He met the senator’s stricken gaze. “Isn’t that right?”

  The senator’s jaw trembled. “Take the papers,” he whispered, nodding toward his desk, where he’d tossed them. “Get out of here now. I don’t know… I don’t know who might be coming later.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Damon hadn’t considered they’d be in immediate danger, and he should have. He should have, goddammit.

  “Take the papers and keep my son safe, Fitzpatrick.”

  “What about you?” Cain asked. “What about Mom and Cady?”

  “We’ll be fine. I have my bargaining chips. And you ought to know—” He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure how much to reveal, how much further he wanted to damn himself. “There was a time when they couldn’t track you. They wanted me to find out where you were, because your phone had somehow stopped transmitting. I was… I was concerned.”

  Cain looked at Damon. “When my phone died,” he said, shaking his head. “Must have been.” He sighed. “Thank you,” he told his father, and the senator nodded stiffly.

  Damon placed his hand around Cain’s waist and propelled him to the door, only pausing to take the papers from the desk. They’d have to grab their things, get to Eli’s house by nightfall to check on Chelsea and Molly, contact Drew and the Seavers to make plans…

  But Cain leaned into his side and wrapped his arm around Damon’s waist, reminding him that even though things had become exponentially more dangerous, he wasn’t alone anymore.

  And he knew exactly who he was fighting for.

  Cain paused as they reached the doorway, and turned to look at his father. The senator seemed smaller somehow. Just a man, outlined against the indomitable mountain in the distance, a giant stripped of his power.

  “I’m not staying silent,” Cain told him. “I won’t publicize any of the information we found in your files, and I won’t say anything about any of the other things you told us, but we’re going to clear Damon’s name.”

  Shaw nodded reluctantly. “I know you don’t believe me, Cain, but I do care about you. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. For our family. I would never have cut you off, not really. You’re my son.”

  Cain seemed to consider this for a second. His hand twitched at Damon’s waist, he took a shuddering breath, and shook his head slowly, sadly. “No. That’s the lie you tell yourself, but you’re wrong. You don’t care who you hurt. You don’t care who you manipulate. Everything you’ve done is to protect yourself, to protect your own name and your own power. That’s how this all started. And now I…No,” he stopped and gave Damon a hard nod. “We… are going to finish it.”

  ******

  “Can’t you drive faster?” Cain urged as Damon navigated the sharp turns up the mountain to Eli’s house. Their frantic calls to Eli’s satellite phone had gone unanswered - not surprising, since the man was unlikely to have it turned on unless he was using it.

  “Not if we want to survive the trip, babe.”

  As he had every five minutes for the last hour, Cain turned in his seat, glancing out the back window for any sign they were being followed. As Damon had tried to tell him numerous times already, he’d seen no signs of anyone behind them, and since they’d deliberately left Cain’s cell phone behind, he was confident there was no way to trace them either. The senator’s information said they’d never been traced to Eli’s house, and even if they had, Eli was more than capable of dealing with any unwanted guests.

  Still, Damon couldn’t fucking wait to get there and see for himself. He pressed his foot just a tiny bit harder on the gas.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He reached out a hand and squeezed Cain’s wrist.

  “But what if…”

  “No more what-ifs,” Damon said gently. “From now on, we deal with what is. Together.”

  Cain sat back in his seat, and Damon could feel the weight of his stare, even as he negotiated the last few turns before Eli’s house. “Yeah,” Cain breathed at length, and the words were like a vow. “Yeah, okay.”

  Damon glanced at him as they pulled through the closely-packed trees into Eli’s front yard. He slid the car into Park, then reached over and cupped the back of Cain’s neck. “Okay,” he repeated.

  The dogs’ barking cut off anything else they might have said, and a second later, Eli was greeting them, shotgun cradled in his arms.

  “You finished your business already?” he demanded, when Damon eased himself from the driver’s seat. Cain, hurried around the car and wrapped a bracing arm around Damon’s waist before Eli could offer assistance, and despite everything that had happened that day, Damon had to bite back a smile at the way Cain claimed him.

  He wrapped his own arm around Cain’s shoulders, claiming him right back.

  “Not finished,” Damon said, looking down at Cain.
“But we’ve got a good start.” He glanced up at Eli. “Everything quiet here?”

  “Yep. Quiet as it can be when there’s a little brown-eyed chatterbox around, anyway,” he said, rolling his eyes, but Damon could tell he wasn’t really annoyed at all. “Any reason it shouldn’t be?”

  “Maybe,” Cain said, taking another worried glance around the yard, but then he exhaled and pulled Damon more tightly against him. “Or maybe not.”

  Damon rubbed a soothing hand over Cain’s arm. The initial adrenaline rush was over, but he knew it would be a long time before either of them let their guards down again.

  “We’ll fill you in when we get inside,” Damon said.

  Damon could see that Eli’s own senses went on alert, feeding off Damon and Cain’s tension, but the man shrugged and stepped aside, ushering Damon and Cain ahead of him into the house.

  “Best get inside, then, boys. We’ve got a Thanksgiving dinner to eat!”

  Damn. Thanksgiving. With all that had happened that afternoon, all the dangers still lurking around them and the work still ahead of them, Damon had forgotten. But with Cain’s warm weight against his side, with Chelsea and Molly safe inside the house, Damon was well aware of just how much he had to be thankful for.

  Chapter 20

  Cain woke up when the misty gray dawn over the mountain had just started to turn a glowing pink, and he immediately turned over to stare at the man whose arm he was using as a pillow. He couldn’t help but grin.

  Damon was lying flat on his back in the middle of their borrowed bed at Eli’s house. His left arm was thrown out to the side, but his right leg and arm were tangled around Cain. Cain nuzzled closer, tucking his chilly hands beneath the human space heater beside him. Seemed Eli the Lonely Mountain Hermit didn’t believe in heat.

  Next door, Molly and Chelsea were tucked into the room they’d been sharing, and Cain let out a soft sigh at the knowledge that they were safe and, even better, happy in their new environment. They’d raced here from his parents’ cabin the day before, half expecting to find the road littered with gangsters and Eli under siege. Instead, they’d found everyone happily engaged in Thanksgiving preparations, with Molly making hand-print turkeys while Eli and Chelsea debated the merits of butternut squash versus pumpkin, for making pie.

  And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. Eli had taken one look at Cain and Damon, arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they walked up to the door, and grinned. “About fucking time,” he’d said, and he’d offered Cain a whiskey.

  Molly had adjusted to life at Eli’s house quickly, making friends with the ravening beasts, Ripper and Puck, and even wrapping grumpy, sarcastic Eli around her little finger. And she wasn’t the only one. If the vibes Cain had gotten from Chelsea last night were accurate, Eli might not be a lonely mountain hermit for long.

  Ironically, it would not be the strangest pairing to result from the nightmare that his father had created. He reserved that title for himself and the man sleeping next to him. On paper, they should never have worked - too dissimilar in age, interests, family, and finances. But in all the things that couldn’t be quantified, Cain had never met anyone more perfect for him, anyone who’d made him feel happier or safer.

  His eyes tracked the planes and hollows of Damon’s face. Asleep, Damon was a completely different sight to behold than when he was awake. His strong jaw was relaxed, the tiny laugh-lines by his eyes nearly invisible, the constant tension in his frame absent. Cain loved him when he was awake, but he could get used to seeing the formidable man at rest.

  Love. He tried the word out again in his mind, waiting for panic to set in. He’d always had the vague idea that if it happened to him, love would feel like an obligation, another conflicting loyalty pulling on his already-shredded conscience, but it wasn’t like that at all. There were no competing priorities in his mind as he looked at Damon this morning. Damon had superseded them all.

  “I should probably find it creepy that you’re watching me sleep,” Damon grumbled without opening his eyes. “But I don’t.”

  What? How had he known?

  “Wouldn’t you have been embarrassed if I hadn’t been? If I’d just been sleeping, or thinking about Richard Armitage from that BBC movie, and how hot he is? Or wondering what Eli is cooking for breakfast downstairs that smells like burnt sugar and coffee?” Cain demanded, but against his will, his fingers tracked over the rough growth of beard on Damon’s chin.

  “Nope. I’d be asleep,” Damon said mildly. He cracked his eyes open and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “You were thinking pretty loud.”

  Cain rolled his eyes. “And now we add mind reading to your impressive list of skills, Big Daddy!”

  The green-gold gaze softened, and Damon asked, “Bet I do know what you were thinking.”

  “Yeah, right. I was thinking about breakfast, and you know because you’re hungry, too,” Cain lied.

  “Nope. Bet me,” Damon said.

  “You’re starting to believe your own press.”

  Damon grinned widely. “So, bet me. I get three guesses to figure out what you’re thinking. Winner gets a forfeit.”

  “What forfeit?” Cain demanded.

  “Winner’s choice.”

  “That’s dangerous!”

  With a shrug, Damon taunted, “Not if you’re sure you’ll win.”

  Cain pursed his lips, considering. Winner’s choice could mean anything from various sex acts - which he was more than fine with - to a total cease and desist on using Cain’s new favorite nickname for Damon - which, curiously, he’d be disappointed to lose.

  And then his brain came all the way online and he realized, duh, there was no way Damon could win.

  “Deal,” Cain said smugly.

  “Okay. You were thinking about how much you love donuts.”

  “What? That’s stupid. No.”

  “Really? Because that’s what you claimed you were thinking of the first morning we were together, back at Cort’s apartment.”

  Oh. Fuck. So he had. He felt his cheeks burn. “Well, I’m not today.” Then he added a trifle smugly, “That’s one.”

  Damon’s smile grew even wider. “Okay, why don’t you think about it again. Concentrate. And I’ll see if I can catch it.”

  Cain shook his head against the pillow and laughed. “You need me to massage your temples while you’re at it?”

  “Nope. Messes with the energy flow. Just concentrate.”

  God, the man was silly. They were silly together. This was a side of Damon he wouldn’t have believed existed, but he loved it, loved that no matter how fucking complicated and dangerous and shitty the world outside was - Russian criminals dogging them, reporters contacting him - everything between them was easy as breathing and made him feel warm from the inside out.

  So, yeah, he concentrated. I love Damon, he thought. Love, love, love.

  “Whoa, that’s weird,” Damon said, eyes widening. “I’m still getting the image of donuts, but now there’s also bacon. Do you want donuts and bacon?”

  Cain’s stomach growled at the reminder of how badly he needed food and coffee, stat.

  “That’s a good guess,” Cain agreed. “But no. And that’s two. Wow. If you wanted me to fuck you again, you just had to say so, you know.”

  Damon laughed. “Is that what you’d use your forfeit on? Fucking me again?”

  Cain cleared his throat. “I… maybe.”

  Damon rolled closer to Cain, gripping his waist beneath the blanket, and Cain’s heart jumped into a staccato rhythm. “Spoiler,” he whispered. “You can fuck me any time you want.”

  Cain sucked in a sharp breath. “T-that’s good to know.”

  “Thought you might be interested in that,” Damon agreed with a wink.

  “Anytime, as in now?”

  “Well, not this very minute. We’re in the middle of something here. I have a contest to win first.”

  Cain sighed. “Damon, I either need bacon and donuts, or I need to fuck y
ou. Both, really, but I’ll take either.”

  “One more shot, come on.”

  “Fine.” Cain’s sigh could have parted the trees outside. “One more shot.”

  Damon watched him intently, his smile soft and sure, and once again, Cain felt himself concentrating, not because he thought it could help Damon, but because he couldn’t help it. I love you, you crazy man. I love you.

  “Got it!” Damon said.

  “I can’t wait to hear it!” Cain enthused, pushing the covers down so he could be one step closer to either food or fucking. “Does it involve maple syrup? Or lube? Oh! Or maple syrup as lube?” He shuddered. “That is maybe the worst thing anyone’s ever thought of. But if you’re into it…”

  “You love me,” Damon interrupted.

  “W-what?” Cain’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you get that?”

  “Are you denying it?”

  Cain licked his lips, suddenly unsure. Neither of them had said the words yet, and he didn’t want Damon to feel pressured to say them, not when he was still figuring out how he wanted his life to look now that his name was cleared, not when they still had so fucking much more work to do in bringing SILA to justice. He tried to read the look in Damon’s eyes, but it was the same look he always wore - warm, and loving, and… oh.

  Oh.

  “No,” Cain said more confidently. “I’m not denying it.”

  Damon’s smile was incandescent. “Ask me how I know,” he whispered.

  Cain bit his lip. “How did you know, Big Daddy?” he repeated, loving the way Damon’s eyes laughed into his.

  “Because I was laying here earlier watching you sleep,” he said. He trailed a finger down the tattoo on Cain’s arm. “And I was thinking the same thing. I love you, too.”

  “Yeah?” Cain’s chest was a little tight, and he wondered if it was possible to be crushed under the weight of your own happiness.

  “Yeah.” Damon’s index finger found a line of words and traced it. “I was thinking about this quote, too. That as awful as the ends are, they’re what make the beginnings possible.”