by Cara Dee
The guy grunted and struggled to stand on his toes, and he tried to look over at Red first. He was looking for support, but he wouldn’t get it from the woman whose priority was the buyers’ comfort.
“Are we clear?” Darius growled, and he slammed the guard against the cabinet once more. It was hard enough that Gray heard something moving, metal shifting on wood, on top of the cabinet. The crowbar.
No one else seemed to be paying any attention whatsoever to some random noise, but Darius threw the guy out of his way and aced the look of suspicion. He reached up and felt around the top, and Gray inched toward him to be of assistance.
“Is something wrong, dear?” Red asked. She stepped over the guy on the floor as if he weren’t even there.
“You can say that.” Darius’s searching revealed the black crowbar, and he raised a brow at Red. “What the hell is this?”
“I…” Red was genuinely baffled, to no one’s surprise.
“This can be used to kill someone.” Darius wasn’t fucking around with his anger tonight. His next target was Red, and together, they had everyone’s attention. And at Darius’s words, there was a murmur of agreement from the buyers. “What if one of the slaves had gotten his hands on it? Huh? And right here in the dungeon, to boot.”
As he advanced on Red, Gray sidestepped to get behind Darius. He stood ready when one of Darius’s hands appeared behind his back, and Gray quickly and discreetly took the plastic baggie with the thin wire. It was larger than he’d expected. But it did contain a long wire supposedly strong enough to choke someone, so in retrospect, he should’ve known the bag would’ve at least filled his palm.
Red had regained her composure, and she turned to address all her guests. “I assure you, gentlemen, we do not take this lightly. In fact, I’m going to have my men search through all common areas tonight.”
Gray slipped the baggie inside his boxer briefs while no one was looking, the plastic sticking to his thigh. Charlie’s buyer was one of the ones who had a wife on board, and he was particularly bothered by Darius’s discovery. He said he was going to retire for the evening and that he wouldn’t take part in any festivities until they could guarantee the safety of his wife.
There was so much Gray wanted to tell Charlie. The boy wept silently on their way out of the dungeon, and Gray fucking hated it. But, if Jonas had slipped the drugs into the right meals and drinks, Charlie would hopefully find some peace in the morning. According to Darius, the buyer’s wife was a voyeur, not an active participant, unlike that other one…and where was she?
Maybe it’d been Linus’s buyer who’d also had a female companion. It didn’t matter at this point. It was an us-against-them situation, and Gray wasn’t going to spare anyone.
He stood quietly behind Darius, as if seeking cover, while the others expressed their dismay at this turn of events. Gray found them all fucking ridiculous. It was as if they’d all been waiting for something to be less than perfect only so they’d have a reason to be upset. It was a goddamn crowbar, not a Molotov cocktail.
Considering Red’s promise to search the common areas for weapons, Darius and Gray had work to do. On the small aft deck on the second level, Darius took a relaxing dip in the Jacuzzi, leaving his suit jacket to be used as a new hiding spot. As per Darius’s instructions, Gray leaned against a wall where there was a small hatch to open. The inside wasn’t much bigger than a lunch box—or first aid kit, in this case. There was also a gun, and Gray stealthily took it before stashing it in Darius’s jacket.
The gun was heavier than he’d thought it would be. He’d never held one before.
He’d gone hunting a few times with his big brother, but they’d used rifles then.
“Are you sure the camera didn’t catch it?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure. Light’s too poor out here.” Darius walked up from the hot tub so they could continue.
In another common area, it was once again Darius who did the distracting. While Gray snatched two knives from underneath a cushy chair in a small seating area, Darius made arrangements with one of the guards. It was about Jonas. He was to be sent to their stateroom in a couple hours.
Gray rose from his position on the floor once he had the knives. He was keeping Darius’s suit jacket draped over his arm now, providing a good place to hide the weapons.
“You know the staff isn’t allowed to spend the night in the guests’ suites, yes?” the guard said.
“That’s fine,” Darius replied dismissively. “No one touches him until tomorrow at lunch, though. I might speak to Valerie about buying him.”
“Understood, sir. I’ll make sure they know.”
The top deck was the last spot, and Gray was fucking tired. Simultaneously, he was feeling better. Having something to do, accomplishing things, had always worked for him, and now it finally felt like they were on their way. They had dropped off three guns, seven knives, one wire, and three bottles of lighter fluid in their room, and they had an hour before Jonas was to arrive.
The deck was dark, aside from a few torches around the table and the underwater spotlights in the pool.
They weren’t alone, they quickly discovered. Philip, the British guy, was drinking wine and playing cards with Vanya and an off-duty guard. At least Gray guessed so, given the man’s casual clothes. All the others who worked security wore suits.
“What do we do now?” Gray whispered.
The breeze and the lulling wash of the waves forced him to repeat himself, and Darius gestured toward the loungers.
“We block their path instead,” he murmured. To explain what he meant, he pushed one chair to be in the way of the supply closet where Darius’s brother had hidden the lifeboat and another gun. “With the number of bitch fits I’ve had tonight, they won’t cross me.”
Gray’s mouth twitched.
A server arrived, reminding Gray how much they kept track of people here. He could see two cameras, conveniently located near the light sources. And didn’t that just suck. It would make it more difficult to get the lifeboat out. Even when it wasn’t inflated, it took up a lot more space than a damn gun.
“I think I’ll have a look at the menu, actually.” Darius sat down on the edge of the lounger and nodded at the menu tucked under the guy’s arm. “Pet, you can take off my shirt.”
“Yes, Sir Asshole.” The words were out before Gray knew it, and at first, he couldn’t believe it. The stuttered noise from the shocked server confirmed it, though, as did the dry look Darius sent him over his shoulder.
Gray pulled off a stiff, sheepish smile.
What did this mean? Was his humor returning? On a day where three young men had been brutally murdered, he was finding it appropriate to make jokes? Or had he finally lost his mind?
He furrowed his brow and worried his bottom lip as he put one knee on the lounger and began unbuttoning Darius’s shirt. The last thing he should do was go through all the states of mind that’d claimed him since his auction, but morbid curiosity took him there anyway. In the span of…what, less than three days…? He’d been in hysterics, he’d felt the suffocating weight of defeat, he’d ridden on waves of delusional power trips, he’d been crippled by grief, and he’d hated with every fiber of his being.
The server left with Darius’s order, and Gray eased back to await instructions.
Darius got comfortable with nothing but his dress pants on, and he held up an arm, a silent offering. Or order, Gray guessed.
It was weird. He lay down carefully and rested his head on Darius’s shoulder, and it was fucking weird. Darius slipped a hand down to hitch Gray’s leg over Darius’s thigh too, making it even weirder. They were getting comfortable, not like before. Not like when they sat on the other side of the pool earlier and they kissed. This was… Gray didn’t know how to put it.
“You can relax, you know,” Darius murmured.
Gray wasn’t sure he could. Like they weren’t playing, that was how it felt. He released a breath and tried to unclench. The
security on the yacht would probably be more reluctant to interrupt if Gray and Darius made it look all intimate or whatever.
“We’re just gonna lie here for an hour like this?” Gray tipped his head back to be able to make eye contact.
In the faint light from the pool, Darius’s eyes looked greener, with golden flecks near the center. His laugh lines and crow’s-feet were a little deeper. His day-old whiskers a bit sun-kissed.
“If only.” He palmed Gray’s cheek lightly, and his hazel gaze glinted with wry mirth. “I’m gonna have to freak you out in a few minutes by making it look like I’m fucking you.”
Gray blinked. Oh…kay. Right, yeah, they were slave and owner, and owners liked to screw their property on occasion. Except, Darius had gone from saying they would absolutely fuck to…maybe they could avoid it, and now it was “make it look.”
“All right.” Gray wasn’t the flirty, carefree guy he’d once been. The guy who’d jump Darius at the first opportunity. He wasn’t that dude anymore, and considering everything going on around them, it was downright sick to want it. No matter how small that part of his mind was.
He could erase the last time.
Gray flinched internally and closed his eyes. What was that fucker’s name, again…? Billy. No, Bob. Bob. Fucking gag. He’d made Gray feel absolutely worthless in a single night, and all he’d used were his hands and a glass bottle.
“If you don’t beg for more, I’m gonna fucking kill you. Your mom will find you just like this.”
Gray bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling.
Eleven
“Your order, sir.”
Darius shifted in the lounger. “Put it on the table. Thanks.” He rustled something. “Here.”
Gray reluctantly opened his eyes and was met by a soda and a packet of Junior Mints.
It was the strangest sight, in a way. Soda and chocolate were something you ate at home. It was too ordinary.
“Ask me something. Anything you want about me,” Darius said. “You get five questions.”
That didn’t exactly make this any less weird, though Gray was catching on. Darius was doing this to make Gray comfortable. Possibly to make him forget where they were for a moment.
Gray cleared his throat and sat up a bit, supporting himself on his elbow so he could take a sip of his soda. The tall glass glistened from the condensation, and the orange-flavored bubbles fizzled and made his nose tickle. He hadn’t had a soda in months.
“Why do you call me knucklehead?” He figured he could start off lightly.
Darius chuckled under his breath and took a swig of the beer he’d ordered. “I guess it just came to me when I read through your social media and listened to what your brothers said about you when I met them.”
It was a little unnerving that he knew so much about Gray.
Don’t make the other four questions about yourself then, moron.
Gray drank some more from his soda and licked his lips. “Do you have a nickname? Can I call you Dare or something?”
It was funny how quickly Darius’s expression flattened. “You definitely can’t call me Dare. Ryan and Ethan used to call me that when we were kids. I always hated it.”
Gray was gonna end up calling him Dare. “Okay, I have a follow-up question since you didn’t really answer.” He pushed forward before there was any silly protesting. “Are you the eldest?”
The questioned sobered Darius, and he nodded slowly. “I am now. Jake was two years older.” That was the brother who’d died in Afghanistan. “Then it’s me. Ryan and I are Irish twins, meaning we’re less than a year apart. Ethan. Then Pop let our mother rest for a decade or so before Lias came along.”
“And then they adopted your sisters after that,” Gray finished, taking another swallow of his Fanta. It was so fucking delicious. He’d never appreciated the divinity of soda the way he should have before. “How old are you? By the way, that’s also a follow-up.”
Darius snorted but let it slide. Probably for the last time. “I’m forty-three.”
Hot. It was something Gray shared with his best friend. He and Abel had always been drawn to older men.
“Family status?” It was a broad question that would hopefully give lots of answers, Gray thought cleverly to himself. “That includes kids, partners, the whole shebang.”
Darius smirked, then wrapped his lips around the tip of the bottle. Gray watched his Adam’s apple work with each swallow, and it wasn’t distracting at all.
“Ahh…” Darius set the bottle on the table. There was some other stuff there too. A paper bag, a bowl of peanuts. “No kids, no wife. I have an on-again-off-again relationship with a woman who works at my brother’s gym in the Valley. But I reckon that’s over and done with since she’s ready for the wholesome family life.”
And for some reason, he couldn’t give her that…? Gray chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating what to ask next. There were several items he wanted to bring up that probably weren’t important in the grand scheme of things. Like, was Darius straighter than an arrow or slightly…bent? Was he on Viagra right now? Did it bother him to be so close to Gray?
No, he could ask for something more meaningful. “Tell me three things most people don’t know about you?” He leaned over Darius to set the empty glass on the table. The box of Junior Mints went there too. For now.
Darius hummed and coaxed Gray into his arms again. “Let’s see… My parents split their time between Camassia and San Francisco these days, and when they’re not home, I sometimes head over to finish Pop’s list of things to do. He’s forgetful, and Ma’s pretty fucking demanding.” He chuckled quietly and tilted his head toward the sky. “It just keeps the peace.”
“Oh, wow… Who knew you’d be a pacifist?” Gray teased.
Darius scoffed. “Fuck pacifists. Cowards, the lot of ’em. They can sit around and sing kumbaya while others get the job done. Personally, I’d like to see how a bunch of hippies would manage when there are no diplomatic solutions. I’d get popcorn too.”
That was almost a rant. Gray filed it away for later, ’cause at some point he wanted to dig. Cradled by the peaceful moment, he relaxed further and focused fully on Darius. He soaked up the raw beauty of Darius’s features, the intoxicating masculinity, and the little imperfections that each had their own story.
It couldn’t be safe to feel so comforted merely by someone’s presence.
“I keep killing plants.”
Gray’s forehead creased, and he waited for Darius to look away from the sky.
“Now that I’ve got my new house, I wanna grow my own food.” Maybe it’d been intended to be a light topic, but the more Darius spoke, the more bothered he became. “It shouldn’t be that fucking hard to grow some tomatoes, but I managed to kill my last baby plant before I headed out to find you.”
Gray stifled his grin and placed a hand on Darius’s chest. “Baby plant? Are you referring to them as your children?”
He huffed in reply. “Get real, kid. No. I’m saying it wasn’t old. It’d just started sporting leaves.”
“Oh.” Gray did the math and couldn’t help but snicker. “Who grows vegetables in the winter? You’ll probably succeed better if you do it in the spring.”
“Why would that matter?” Darius frowned down at him. “You sow them indoors.”
“And at a certain age, they gotta be transplanted to the outdoors,” Gray replied with an easy smile. “My mom does this every year—around March, I think.”
“Huh. Did not know that.”
Gray let out a soft laugh and stretched out. The day was catching up with him, and he yawned. A salty wind breezed through, causing a shiver to run down his spine. It was the first time the Caribbean weather felt chilly.
Darius noticed and turned toward him. “They should come up here soon, unless they’re doing a more thorough search.”
“What if they haven’t come up before Jonas gets sent to the cabin?”
“I’ll think of something.
” Darius closed the last little distance so their bodies were aligned. “It’s gonna be a long night no matter what. I have to meet up with Valerie too.”
Gray made a face as he got comfortable, using Darius’s bicep as his pillow. “What’s the point of this stupid tour she’s gonna give you?”
“Depends who you ask. She’ll probably try to get laid. I want access to their surveillance system.”
Gray cleared his throat and drew a finger aimlessly over Darius’s pec. “I see.” He didn’t wanna talk about it anymore. He hadn’t asked his five questions yet anyway, and that was more important. Also, didn’t Darius have another random fact to confess?
A quiet chuckle rumbled from Darius, and Gray withdrew his hand and scowled, knowing he’d been caught. Been caught with what, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t fucking jealous. That was irrational and insane and impossible.
Maybe he was afraid. And just a bit territorial? Which wasn’t weird, he hoped. Darius was his way home.
“Look at me, knucklehead.” It was as if Darius knew Gray would do no such thing, ’cause he had to hook two fingers under Gray’s chin and lift his head. There was understanding and something burning hot swimming in Darius’s eyes. “I get it. I know what this kind of trauma does to your mind. It’s normal for a victim to latch on to the closest safe place.” He carefully cupped Gray’s jaw and pressed his lips to the corner of Gray’s mouth. “You okay with this?”
Gray had stopped breathing and couldn’t respond verbally, so he only nodded. He was more than okay with this. As their lips touched, something ignited in Gray. For a moment, he wanted to be normal. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t an act, and he wanted to pretend he wasn’t here.
“No one’s watching, though,” Gray whispered. “I don’t think those at the table give a damn.”
“Good,” Darius whispered back. “Then this part’s just for us.”
It made no sense; he made no sense, but Gray let it go and deepened the kiss. He teased the seam of Darius’s mouth with the tip of his tongue, and he breathed in the heady scent of the man’s cologne.