by Rhys Ford
The sincerity in West’s face was too painful to look at, and Angel shifted his gaze, unable to stand seeing himself reflected in his lover’s blue eyes.
“The funny thing about this is, I can’t do anything other than hope. Because you wouldn’t take anything from me to be here. You want the one thing that’s the hardest for me to give, Ange, and that’s myself. So I’m asking you to stay, just because I need you. Not because it’s a big house and there’s cool toys but because I’m here… and I need you.”
“Rome is beginning to depend on you, West. And I know you say you’ll be there for him even if we can’t do this thing right, but you’re asking a hell of a lot from me. That’s a hell of a lot of trust.”
“We have to trust each other. I’m not going to say it’ll be easy. We’re both wary bastards, and we’ve been bitten too many times to count, but we’ve both agreed this is worth reaching for.” West cupped Angel’s chin, drawing him back around to where West could see his face. “I talked to Marzo about you this afternoon, and as much as I hate to admit it, he brought up a good point.”
“Marzo usually does,” Angel drawled. “What’d he say?”
“That I’d known you were here. In Half Moon. But I was too damned scared to reach out to you.”
“Why didn’t you?” It was a good question, one he’d pondered a few times when he’d seen West’s name on the bottom of a letter sent by Harris Investments. “It would have been a hell of a lot easier for you to get a hold of me than me getting a hold of you. Even if the cops think otherwise.”
“Because I’m a coward.” West chuckled. “And sadly, Marzo didn’t disagree.”
“I don’t know about coward….”
“No, it was pretty much agreed on. I’m sorry for that too. I can’t take it back. I can’t change the past, but we can do something about the future,” he murmured. “So, how about this for a compromise? We start over, in a way. Sort of.”
Angel snorted. “Kind of too late for that, don’t you think? We’ve already had sex.”
“Sex is not off the table, but it’s not like we’ve moved into the same room to play house,” West pointed out. “What I’m suggesting is we spend time together. Like we’ve done before. Lay some groundwork for the pretty hot sex I’m sure we’ll have in the near future but definitely give ourselves something to build on.”
“And I’m supposed to stay here while we do that?”
“Yeah, you should. Because starting this week, the Moonrise Motel is going to be gutted and remodeled. I’ve got Agnes working on where to put people while the work’s being done, but in the meantime, Angel love, it would be easier on my nerves and ulcers if you just stayed here.” West sighed. “And when or if you decide to go back to that dump, it’s at least going to be decent. I can’t have people saying I let my lover live in a shit hole, especially if I’m the one who owns it.”
“DERRY…. GOD, if he weren’t already dead, I would strangle him.” West paced around the study, unable to sit. His ankle injury flared up a warning, a low, steady throb threatening to turn to pain, but he ignored it. Acid growled through his stomach, the stress in his nerves stoking the fires burning in his gut. “I can’t believe he’d do something like that. I just… can’t. How is Finance doing? Are they able to get into his files?”
The morning light was harsh, stabbing him in the eye as he turned toward the window. Lack of sleep plagued him, but the hours he’d spent talking to Angel were worth every imagined grain of sand in his eyes when he blinked. They’d fallen asleep on top of one another, sprawled out on the couch together for Rome to find when he thundered downstairs in search of food. Angel’s quick kiss after they’d been jolted awake made the teasing Rome kept up bearable.
“That kid is going to be the death of me,” West muttered.
“Pardon me?” Agnes asked over the phone.
“Sorry, Aggie,” he apologized. “I’m a bit distracted. What were you saying? About Finance? And are they cooperating with the cops?”
“Nothing concrete yet from Finance, and yes, everyone’s fully onboard. I’ve got IT partnered with one of the techs from the police department. They’re working on getting into his locked-down files. The police wanted his desktop, but everything is kept on the servers, so that would have done them no good. Legal stopped them from confiscating the network machines.” Agnes tapped at a keyboard, the tick-tick of her fingers hitting the keys coming over the phone line. “I’ve rescheduled all of your onscreen meetings for this week and dropped all of the hot items to your expedite folder, but there’s contracts that you’ll need to read and e-sign before the Marbles project can go forward.”
“What are we looking at, Aggie?” West stopped in front of the study’s window bank, numbly staring out onto the windswept landscape. The enormity of Derry’s betrayal was massive, and if he’d been hurt by the man’s murder, he was devastated by the carnage Derry appeared to have left behind. “Do we have a rough number, other than the one we already threw out there? How much? He was the goddamned CFO. He had access to everything. How far does this go?”
If he were in the office, West knew Agnes would be lowering her glasses, perching them on the tip of her pert nose so she could stare at him from across his desk. She’d been his right-hand person seemingly forever, driving his life forward each and every day. Grandmotherly one instant and a shark the next, he’d come to rely on her presence and sharp intelligence to balance out his often blind ambition. She saw things he missed, ferreting out shadows he hadn’t seen in the glare of his passions.
And somehow they’d both missed Derry’s stealthy bleeding off of Harris Investments.
“I can’t give you an exact number. You know that. We’ve only got that first estimate, but we’d have nothing if it hadn’t been for that bounced transaction on Tuesday after we’d locked down his accounts.” She spoke to someone in the office, a quiet, forceful directive he’d have given if West was there. “And before you say anything, there’s nothing you can do here except fret and drive people crazy. You’ve got other things to worry about—”
“What things?” he spat.
“Marzo told me about Mr. Daniels, West. I’d say he’s more important than anything else. Especially now.”
“Agnes, remind me to fire Marzo. Angel isn’t a part of this mess. Hell, after dealing with me for the past couple of days, I’m surprised he’s even talking to me.” West sat down hard on the couch, jostling his back. “What did Marzo tell you? Exactly.”
“That you’ve been running around like a chicken with his head cut off and not taking care of yourself. And that Mr. Daniels was someone you knew a long time ago. Really, you should have told me everything. I’m rather mad at you for trying to build those condos now. You are an idiot, West, and I say that with the utmost respect.” She sniffed loud enough for West to feel her disappointment across the miles between them. “Is he still there at your house? With his brother? Daniels. Not Marzo.”
“When he’s not working. Angel, I mean. The brother goes to school. He’s eleven. So yes, Angel is here. So is his brother. Marzo? He might not be after I hang up.”
“You’d be more lost without Marzo than you would be without me. Go spend the day doing something other than pacing and working. Well, do nothing but deal with those quick contract fixes and go spend some time with him,” she ordered gently. “Or if Mr. Daniels is busy right now, go talk to your brother. You have family there, West. Reach out to them.”
“And if I don’t?” he teased.
“Then I will skin you alive and roll you in salt.” Agnes snorted. “Trust me. You’ve pissed me off enough times. I have a long list of things I’d like to do with you, and none of them end well for you. I’ll call you tonight to check up on you. If something’s on fire, I’ll let you know.”
“If you find out that number—”
“You’ll be the first to know it,” she promised. “It’s not as bad as it could be.”
“A few million,” West reminded h
er. “Maybe as high as five, which we can probably recover. It’s not like we’ve been operating with it. It just… pisses me off, Aggie. I trusted that fucking bastard. I mourned him.”
“I am sorry. I know you are hurt, West, but it will get better.” Agnes sighed. “For right now, just take care of yourself. Whatever you and Mr. Daniels are doing, keep safe. Today is a day off. I’ll handle things.”
“I know you will.” He cleared his throat, then said, “Thank you for being here, Aggie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably something stupid.” She laughed. “Now, go find someone there to have coffee with you and let me get back to paying the bills. I’ll call you later.”
West disconnected the call and laid his earpiece on the low table. Turning, he arched an eyebrow at his twin standing in the study’s doorway, holding out one of the two mugs he carried in with him. West didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing himself in his brother, the echo of his face living an entirely different life.
“Oh good, coffee,” West drawled. “Like I haven’t been drinking gallons of that this week.”
“You’re welcome, jerk.” Lang straightened up. “Don’t know why I even try to be nice to you.”
Lang’s casual stance spoke of a man who’d found his place in life, a happy, content place filled with a growling, rough-mannered bookworm husband and a wild-hearted daughter. He’d envy Lang if he had any sense, and maybe he did a little bit, but it wasn’t anything he’d ever mention. Not unless he was prepared to hear Lang’s I-told-you-so for the rest of his life.
You’re going to hear it anyway, his heart whispered, because that’s what you want with Angel.
“How goes the embezzlement?” Having passed off one of the mugs to West, Lang settled on one of the love seats in the middle of the room. “Did Agnes have any updates?”
“Nothing substantial. The cops are trying to shut down the network so they can gain access, but that would turn us into a brick. Legal is working with them. Hopefully, we can keep everything on track while we shake this out.” West sipped at the coffee, making a face at its bitterness. “Did you forget the sugar?”
“Sorry, this one’s yours. I only take cream.” Lang exchanged the cups.
“There is something seriously wrong with you, brother.” He sat down across of Lang, thankful to get off his feet.
His ankle twinged, a pointed reminder he’d been abusing it. Rubbing at the elastic bandage wrapped around the strained joint, West hissed when he massaged a tender spot. There were threads of uncertainty winding through him, and the shakiness resonating through his bruised emotions left him off-balance. As always, Lang waited him out, drawing along the seconds with small sips of coffee and probing glances sharp enough to dig out anything West festered inside of him.
After a few minutes, West gave in and sighed. “I feel like… a fool, Lang.”
“Because of Derry?” Lang cocked his head. “Because of what he did to your company? Or is it something else?”
“The company… hell, we’ll recover from that. It’s just… I don’t know.” He rubbed at his face, then stared at his brother through his hands. “It feels like… I can’t even explain how it feels. I’m angry at him. For dying. For stealing from me. For… everything. So fucking angry.”
“He was like a brother to you,” Lang said, setting his cup down. “More than I’ve been, to be honest.”
“No, that’s not—”
“It’s true, West.” Lang cut him off, shaking his head. “You and I were always set against each other. It’s what Father did to amuse himself. Well, that and sleep with anything with boobs who’d have him. We were raised to be competition to one another. We were at each other’s throats before we even had teeth.”
“You refused.” West smirked. “You checked out of Father’s game long before I even knew he was playing one. I used to think I’d won. Took me a while to figure out you did and I was still dancing on his strings. Even after he died, I was still dancing away like the puppet he’d made me.”
“You’re a better businessman than I am.”
Lang’s soft protest was buried under West’s derisive laugh.
“Don’t disparage what you’ve done with the company. You’ve taken it places Father never could. I think you stopped playing his game long before you realize, West.”
“Still stupid enough to be taken in by Derry.” The burn returned to his belly, kicking up a searing flush into his throat. “Right under my nose, Lang. Right under my fucking nose. He looked into my face every single day and lied. Every single word he said to me was a lie. And I’m still torn apart because he’s dead. Because he… shit.”
“He was your brother, West. He was there for you when I wasn’t.”
“That’s not how it was—”
“It was, and it’s okay. He was in my place, as your brother because that’s what you needed. I used to resent him… before… but I saw how close you were. Now I’m fucking pissed off because I trusted him to be there for you.” Lang’s rumble dropped to a whisper. There was a wealth of pain in his voice, a tearing of his smooth growl. “I told myself you didn’t need me because you already had a brother. And I’m making this about me… about us… when you’ve got all this shit you’re dealing with, but I wanted you to know that I’m here, West. If you need me.”
“Is this where I call you Sir Didy?” West teased, sliding over to the love seat next to his brother. Nudging Lang over, he sat down, pressing into his twin. “You were never not my brother. We are finding our way. We’re different—”
“You’re an asshole, and everyone loves me,” Lang interjected.
“There’s that,” he agreed with a slow smile. The hurt in his heart remained, soiling the memories he had of Derry. “But I count in that everyone. I do love you, Lang. This past year… we’ve worked hard to be better with each other. I’ve always loved you, idiot. It’s just that now, I like you too.”
“I love you too. And I like you some of the time.” Lang bumped into him. “I was serious, you know. If you need anything….”
“Want to come be my CFO?” West chuckled at Lang’s horrified expression. “Okay, so that’s a no. What if you just be my brother and we go back to trying to learn what that means?”
“That I can do.” The smirk on Lang’s face was eerie, a mirror of West’s own sardonic grin. “How about if we start with Angel Daniels? I hear you two go back… way back.”
Fifteen
“I’D RATHER be home with West. Instead you drag both of us out here,” Rome snarled, kicking a loose pebble out of the way. “This is going to be boring.”
It was getting to be a common complaint, one Rome tossed out a lot over the past month whenever Angel dragged him away from the cliff house to interact with anyone other than West or Marzo. As always, Angel ignored his little brother’s sullen grumbles, pushing him forward into the crowd. Rome dug his heel in, then jerked forward, unable to hold his leg rigid when Angel tapped the back of his knee.
“Jerk,” Roman muttered, scowling at Angel from under his beanie. “Why do you need everyone to come to the farmers’ market with you? It’s Saturday!”
“Yeah, shut up,” Angel replied casually, smiling broadly at a woman frowning at him as she walked by. “Ma’am, if that’s your kid, you might want to stop him… um… her… from eating that.”
He’d learned to take criticism about his parenting skills with a grain of salt, especially when given to him by a woman who was handing their free-range toddler a kale smoothie in a plastic bottle while the child picked up a piece of chewed gum off the ground and popped it in their mouths. He eased around the woman, wincing slightly when West elbowed him in the ribs.
“Seriously, a farmers’ market?” West echoed behind Rome. “Are we going to have to churn our own butter? Milk the cow for the cream? What’s wrong with a grocery store? Food comes in nice, little clear plastic containers, all plump, pretty, and ready to eat.”
“You shut up
too.” Angel glared over his shoulder at West, but it was good to see him smile. He’d been somber since Derry’s death, punched in the gut first by the loss of his best friend, then the discovery of his betrayal. Shoving West and Rome out the front door to hunt for ingredients was a good call, and he enjoyed poking at them. “Pick up the pace. You two are my pack mules today. The sooner I get what I need, the sooner you guys can go burn your eyes out playing… I don’t even know what you’re playing. Something.”
“Katamari,” West supplied. “Old school. You need good hand-eye coordination—”
“And if you go too fast, it gets you sick and you puke,” Rome proclaimed proudly. “I hurled on West’s foot the first time I played.”
“He says that like it’s a badge of honor.” The man shuddered, lengthening his pace to catch up with Angel. “I will have you know, for relationship purposes, I have a sympathetic vomit response.”
“It was awesome.” Bouncing on his heels, Rome grinned up at Angel, walking backward through the crowd. “I only threw up Kool-Aid. He had corn.”
“I did not have corn. Don’t be disgusting.” West hooked his arm around Angel’s shoulder. “He’s trying to gross you out.”
“Great. Just… great. Now I’ve got two disgusting idiots to drag around the market instead of one.” Making a face at his brother, Angel twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around before you walk into people. I take it you two slackers let Marzo clean it all up.”
“It was either that, or we’d have tossed up our stomachs like starfish and died.” West leaned over and whispered, “And since we haven’t had any time… together… since that night almost a month ago. I thought maybe I would live to see another day.”
“Maybe you should grow up and clean up your own puke.” He pulled away, playfully giving West a light shove. “You know, like an adult. With his own company.”
“Died. I would have died.” West drew out his words. “Really. Believe me. It was horrible, and it’s something we should not talk about anymore unless you want a repeat performance. I can’t even think about it. Change of subject, why are we here? And at eight in the morning on a Saturday?”