The Manx Cat Guardians Boxed Set

by J P Sayle

  The loud groan he received from Nick had him flicking his nose in the air. “Hey, there have to be some perks on offer or he’d never agree. The last time I asked, he told me to get the bus. As if!”

  Raucous laughter filled the kitchen, everyone howling at Greg’s outraged face at the gall of Aaden even suggesting Greg put his precious arse on a bus.

  Nick was shooed to the door with instruction to get ready along with Brad and Joe. He felt a lightness to his step that hadn’t been there since Brody left. He pinched his brow, hoping he could keep the feeling, if only for tonight.

  Nick showered, taking his time to groom himself. He waxed and buffed his body with one thought in mind: to go out and find someone to take his mind off his problems. He dressed with the same purpose. The light-coloured trousers hugged his legs like a second skin and extenuated his firm, round butt. The rich chocolate-coloured long-sleeved top he picked clasped itself to his lean corded muscles and lay against his brown leather belt.

  He bent and slipped on his dark brown leather vans, enjoying the feel of the silky material of his top caressing his sensitive nipples. His breath stuttered as he stood. Pressing the material to his pecs, he let the sensations spread. Arousal snaked through his body, working its way down his torso. His eyes sparkled in the light reflecting off the glass window. He gave himself a satisfied smirk before twirling around and grabbing the battered brown leather jacket lying on the bed. He slipped the jacket over his shoulders. The soft worn leather fitted like a glove.

  He gave the room one final glance, making sure he’d forgotten nothing. Aaden’s Christmas gift of aftershave caught his eye. He grabbed it, spritzing before leaving the room in a cloud of scent. He walked out into the hall, shoving his wallet into his jacket pocket. His head fired around at the loud wolf whistle.

  “Don’t you scrub up well.”

  Nick smirked at Greg, not taking offence. Every time they’d gone out in the past, it had been more of an impromptu thing. This was totally different, as were his plans. Tonight he’d dressed to impress and hopefully get some action for his neglected arse.

  The only person you want anywhere near your arse ain’t here.

  The snarky voice that tried to dispel his happy mood was firmly ignored.

  He gave a twirl on the spot, showing off when Aaden came up the stairs. Deep creases forming between Aaden’s brows warned Nick that whatever Aaden was thinking, it wasn’t good. His suspicions were confirmed when Aaden spoke.

  “Why are you dressed like that? Those trousers are obscene. You can see… everything.”

  Nick smothered a chuckle when he heard the high octave of his voice as he continued. Now, he was sure, was not the right time to laugh in Aaden’s face while he acted like his mother hen, clucking over his chicks.

  “Oh, back down, big boy. You’re not his mother. It’s fucking hot, is why he’s dressed like that.” Greg punched Aaden’s shoulder, pushing him out of the way as he skipped to Nick.

  Nick couldn’t have put it better.

  He let his gaze travel over Greg, who it would seem had also made an effort. The deep cherry-red trousers had several buckles and straps strategically placed down the legs and matched the skinny ribbed top that clung to Greg’s tightly honed chest. The overall urban feel was trendy, but not over the top. The black laced boots left half undone added a nice flair along with the fitted black coat that finished midthigh.

  He stared at Aaden, waiting for him to notice what Greg was wearing. He felt the grin spread across his face when Aaden snorted in disbelief. His onyx eyes gleamed with what Nick thought might be outrage.

  The indignant snort would have been embarrassing if Aaden didn’t have more worrying things to focus on. His hands lifted in incredulity as he waved at Greg’s outfit. “Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that?” His harsh demand was met with a devilish twinkle, making the outrage course thick and fast through him. He’d never seen Greg look quite this hot before. All dolled up and smelling divine. His redheaded beauty shone brighter than a big arse diamond.

  Fuck me senseless, he is stunning.

  Aaden blocked his thoughts, quickly hoping Greg hadn’t heard them.

  “Why, out of course. I told you we were going to get our groove on. New Year was such a big fat let-down, so I decided we need to celebrate, me and my boys, in style.”

  Nick knew it was his fault, even if Greg didn’t come right out and say it. He’d fucked it for everyone moping around after Brody’s sudden departure. Resolved to fix that tonight, Nick would give Greg a night he wouldn’t forget.

  Well, that was if they could get Greg past Aaden. And right this minute, Nick wasn’t sure of their chances when Aaden’s angry glare intensified, pinning them both in place.

  Greg’s hips swayed as he sauntered up to Aaden. He read Aaden’s thoughts, tutting. Greg used their mind link and spoke firmly, “You can stop right there. I’m going out with the boys. You agreed. It’s all part of the plan, remember?”

  “That might be the case, but you didn’t say you were gonna get all dolled up like some fashion plate you see in a bloody magazine. I’m not letting you out of my sight dressed like that.”

  Greg moved into Aaden, giving him a sultry smile, licking his lips. “You’ll be rewarded when you come and get me later. I promise. I’ll do anything you want.” Greg bit his lip, hoping the triumph he felt wasn’t flashing across his face as Aaden uttered “anything” before sealing his mouth to Greg’s.

  Nick swayed to the bar, trying to remain upright. The last bucket of cocktail really kicked his arse from semi-drunk right into full inebriation. He offered a flirty grin to the bartender, or he hoped it was. Nick had had his doubts about finding any talent when Greg, Brad, and Joe had dragged him to Guys and Dolls, the only gay club on the island. The stairs leading up to the club were more suited to a derelict building. The threadbare carpet, warped wood, and wallpaper that was ripped and hanging down didn’t fill him with confidence that the inside would be much better. He’d been right. The tiny cramped club had ripped velvet seats situated around the wall next to the bar and along the wall of glass windows that looked out into the street. The rickety tables and chairs sitting in front of the bench seats had surely seen better days.

  The hardwood floor was sticky with residue which he hoped was from spilt alcohol and nothing more. The small square of dance floor in front of the decks playing music had him wonder how they could call this place a club. The two redeeming factors that Nick could see was the guy at the end of the bar washing glasses and the pole sitting on the edge of the dance floor near the door they’d come through.

  Nick squinted down at the menu in front of him, waiting for the bartender to come and serve him.

  What did the boys ask for?

  His hazy mind tried to recollect. There was only a choice of six cocktails to choose from, so how hard could it be to figure it out? The gimmick of using a sandcastle bucket had amused the hell out of him. Who would have thought to use a sandcastle bucket to put cocktails into? When he’d asked the question, Greg had snorted, pointing out that the owners had.

  He shook his head, realising too late that was not a good idea when the room spun. He quickly moved his gaze back to the menu hoping it would help. His mind drew a blank as to what he was supposed to be ordering. It shouldn’t be this hard to remember what the boys wanted. So why was he finding it more complicated than algebra? He tried to work it out, thinking it may be the third one down. He glanced under his lashes at the bartender whose name he couldn’t recall when he sauntered towards him.

  “Can I have four more of the number three?” He was convinced he’d managed to keep his voice from slurring when the guy turned, offering him a view of his firm backside in scruffy low-hanging jeans. The untucked black polo shirt hanging over the band of his jeans lifted as he stretched and reached for the top shelve to grab a bottle. The band of hairy flesh he could see became more appealing with each drink he consumed.

  His frie
nds had said to leave the guy alone, but he’d seen the interest in his eyes. Eyes similar to those of a certain someone they’d banned from conversation for the night. And if he couldn’t have him, then this guy would do for tonight. Nick let his eyes travel over the guy as he worked. His face wasn’t unattractive, and his body was in good shape. He wasn’t as tall as the men he usually went for, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  When he turned back to Nick, he offered up his brightest smile, paying for the drinks. He gave him a flirty wink, hiking the tray he made sure to let his hips sway seductively as he walked back to the table.

  He dropped the tray on the table, squealing in delight when the sounds of Sigma and Rita Ora “Coming Home” belted out of the speakers right next to their table. He yanked at Greg’s hand before he could overthink it. “Come on, you guys.” He pulled at his giggling friends, dragging them all onto the dance floor.

  Nick made a beeline straight to the empty dance pole he’d been eyeing all evening. He’d taken a few classes years ago finding it was fun for a while. Well, that was until they’d tried to get him to do some complicated moves giving him bruises from his arse to elbow. And that had been the end of his pole dancing career. With a few drinks on board, he eyed the pole, feeling brave.

  He lowered his lashes, checking out the bar, and felt emboldened when the bartender leant on the bar watching him. Nick let his hips pick up the beat of the music, swaying seductively. He let the song take over. He swung up onto the pole, twisting and turning. Clasping his thighs tightly, he bowed backwards and dropped his head, showing of his flexibility and his core strength. He pulled up, pirouetting around the pole using his arms to hold him as his legs floated and pointed out away from his body.

  The sweat slid down his back, slicking his top to his damp skin. His heart pounded in time to the base of the music. Not that he noticed as he worked the pole. He let the joy of doing something fun in front of his friends take hold. Their shouts of ‘more’ encouraged him to keep going as he panted breathlessly.

  He twirled, coming to a dead stop. The strength in his arms disappeared as he slid down the pole, doing his best to stand up on wobbly legs. The gleam of the lights above his head caught on an intense grey-green gaze of the man standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance.

  “Why now!” Nick panted breathlessly, his insides quivering.

  Brody slammed his office door with shaky hands. He paced back and forth across the carpet, his arms moving at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. “What the fuck have I done?”

  Surprised by hearing his voice in the empty office, he stalled in front of the door, his hand raised when the door suddenly burst open.

  He jumped back while Ellie charged into the room. His flushed cheeks and sour expression caused Brody to dive behind his desk. He knew that look all too well, and it never spelled out good news for him when it came to Ellie’s temper tantrums.

  “What I just heard in the corridor better be a fucking mistake, Mister, or I’m gonna…” Words failed Ellie. He slammed the door behind him, not wanting to put on a show for his colleagues or finding himself fired for unprofessional behaviour. And right now he was going to be anything but professional. In fact, he wanted to rip someone a new one, preferably the man currently hiding behind his desk.

  Ellie balled his hands on his hips, staring down the one person who’d supported him to make something of himself. The same person, if he’d heard correctly, about to take the one thing good thing in his life away from him. His stomach dropped when Brody’s eyes offered a silent apology confirming his fears.

  Brody raised his hands, not sure how successful he’d be at warding off the anger coming off Ellie in waves, or the hurt that was written over his face. He smiled apologetically. He’d never for a second considered the impact this would have on Ellie when he’d decided to throw away his career.

  Brody heaved a sigh. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. If you’ve heard that I’ve resigned, then no, it’s not a mistake. I would have talked to you. You know I would. But fuck me, this place is worse than any gossip show. Hell, I only talked about it about”—Brody checked his wristwatch—“Seven minutes ago. That must be even a record for you and the gossip mongers.”

  He offered a tentative smile, hoping his attempt at humour would lighten the thick oppressive atmosphere building between them. When Ellie threw a mutinous snarl at him, Brody turned down his mouth.

  “I’m sorry, okay. As I said, I would have discussed this with you if I’d had a bloody clue I was going to do it.” Brody shrugged his powerful shoulders out of his jacket, throwing it on the chair. His hands raked through his unruly hair. His frustration poured out as he stomped around the small office, ranting.

  “Do you think I intended to go into that meeting, leave, vomit all over the floor in the bathroom, and tend my resignation? Well, if you did, you knew more than me, Ellie.” Brody’s eye implored Ellie to understand. “I can’t stomach it anymore. I don’t want to take charge of yet another investigation, which will undoubtedly rip out my soul and stamp all over it. I can’t fucking do it anymore. No, that’s not it. I won’t do it anymore. I’m sorry I never gave any consideration to you, but I’ll help ensure you get someone who will understand how you…”

  “You can stop right there, mister. There is no fucker in this place that gets me the way that you do, and you know it. You leaving means I’ll have to go too. I have no other option.” Ellie’s lyrical voice rose to a wail, leaving Brody feeling like utter shite. He had no defence when Ellie crumpled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

  Brody ran round his desk, dropping to his haunches as he pulled Ellie into his lap. “Ah fuck. Please don’t cry. Listen, why don’t you come with me?” As the words left his mouth, Brody felt the rightness of the suggestion. Aaden’s text messages about setting up a consultancy business leapt into his mind, creating an idea.

  The sobs quieted when Brody rubbed at Ellie’s tense shoulders.

  “Listen, I mean it, come with me. Aaden has this idea about setting up a consultancy business. We’ve talked about it on and off for years. Only now it seems like the right time, with Aaden leaving the army and me now jobless.”

  He chuckled at Ellie’s sniffle as he wiped his nose on his striped sleeve before offering a hopeful grin to Brody. His watery eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope.

  “You mean it? You want me to come too?” Ellie tried hard to keep his hope in check, but the genuine smile spreading across Brody’s gorgeous face had him squirm.

  “Of course I did, you whalley. For some reason I kinda like having you around.” Brody flicked Ellie’s red nose before gently lowering him to his feet. He groaned as his knees cracked as he stood. He rubbed his hands down his thighs at the ache from crouching too long as Ellie offered him a beaming smile.

  Brody let the laughter out as Ellie went into full-on organiser mode. He watched and listened to Ellie while he reorganised his life. He tried to interrupt but gave up after the fifth attempt, letting him crack on. He walked back to his chair and sat. The feeling of panic that had made his neck itch reduced as he listened to Ellie sort through the things he needed to do.

  Now all I have to do was sort out my love life.

  Simple!

  One week later

  Brody walked through into the departure lounge at London City airport wondering where the hell the last week had gone. He rubbed at his neck and felt the knots under the warm skin. Digging his fingers into the bunched muscles, he tried to get them to release while glancing about the busy departure lounge, searching for an empty seat.

  He was hit by the heady scent of perfumes mixed with the smell of coffee. He strolled away from the strong scent and headed to a bank of seats placed furthest from the duty-free shop.

  He ignored the people scurrying around him. Removing his grey leather bomber jacket, he placed it over his black leather carry-on suitcase. He paused as he felt the vibration in his casual black linen trousers, and he rooted in his
pocket to take out his iPhone. A smile lit his eyes as he read the message from Aaden.

  Let me know when you’re about to take off and I’ll be at the airport to meet you, Bro.

  He typed a quick reply.

  Ok, just in departures now. Bro

  He lounged on the hard seat, hugging his broad shoulders in a bit to stop them from encroaching into the people sitting on either side of him. Brody tugged at the collar of his black-and-white-checked shirt as his mind worked through the list of things still left to do.

  A sense of satisfaction rose when he considered what they’d achieved over the last week.

  Brody knew in principle Aaden wanted to set up a business with him. But for him, it had been more of a pipe dream. Then last week happened, and Aaden suggested they seriously give it a go. Brody still couldn’t quite get his head around how everything was slotting together so fast. It felt his life had become a giant child’s jigsaw puzzle. The one used for children to learn their numbers or ABC where the pieces easily fit together to show the right order of things.

  Point in question, how receptive Aaden was to them employing an office manager before they’d obtained any work. He’d been a little perturbed when Aaden mentioned wanting Greg as their office manager initially. Martin and Stuart, Greg’s bosses, had strongly objected when Aaden had mentioned it in passing. Thankfully he’d given up on the idea and got on board with the idea of Ellie taking on the role. Once Aaden had read Ellie’s CV, it had been a forgone conclusion.

  Brody wasn’t sure he could’ve crushed Ellie’s big dreams of being an office manager. And he was grateful to Aaden he didn’t have to.

  Brody sucked his thumb between his teeth, thinking about the new contracts Aaden had faxed for his approval. He’d gawped at their options and had been pleased Aaden hadn’t seen his impersonation of a guppy fish, his lips flapping open.