2-Bound By Law (2 page)

“Right. I don’t have the clearance to be involved in any part of your life.” Never did. Never would. “Let fucking go of me.”

“You can’t leave now.”

“Then you’ll have to arrest me.”

With that, Styx reached up and yanked LC’s arms down and behind his back, and when the cuffs snicked on his wrists, he cursed bitterly. “Where’s Paulo?”

“Safe.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Are you two serious?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You’ve been spying on me for God knows how long.”

“I call it keeping you safe.”

“Get. The fuck. Off me.”

Styx didn’t listen. Never did, which was why the military hadn’t been for him. “You bottom for him?”

“I’m trying to figure out why the hell you would care if I did.”

“Guess I have my answer. And you know why.”

“Not anymore, Styx. Too much time’s passed.”

He felt Styx’s body stiffen, thought the man would release him. And then…

And then Styx’s hand went to his cock as he sucked on the back of LC’s neck along the spot—
that spot
—he’d discovered drove LC wild.

The only one who’d ever found it, and oh God, he was going to come in his fucking pants if Styx didn’t stop.

And Styx would not stop.

“Like that, baby?” Styx whispered after licking the spot where LC knew there’d be a red mark that would stay there for days, then used his tongue and teeth and hands, slipped into LC’s half unzipped jeans to work his magic.

“Fuck…please…don’t, Styx.” But he was saying
don’t
and meant
don’t stop
. And it was something he wanted—needed—too much to struggle more.

He’d always been a goddamned whore for this man—that would never change.

“Styx.” The name, moaned into the dark, and if the man called him by his nickname, he’d lose it in his pants.

A few minutes and then a husky whisper answered, “Yeah, come right now, Law.”

Law.

Law had no choice. His body always deferred to Styx’s wishes.
Always
.

Styx wiped the man’s stomach with some hastily grabbed napkins—he’d pulled Law’s shirt up before he came so at least there wasn’t a huge mess, and it had taken everything to not get on his knees and let Law come down his throat.

He threw the used napkins aside and fixed Law’s clothes as the man remained silent, his breathing calming from the riot it had been moments earlier, when he’d come and cried out Styx’s name.

God, he’d been dreaming about that for fucking ever.

“How long have you been checking up on me?” Law asked finally, his voice hoarse.

“Since the second I left your side.”

“Right, and that was your damned choice.” Law was furious. He slammed Styx off him and Styx hit the wall hard, and he tried to stumble forward.

Too late. Law had him pinned. Law, who had elite training and had gotten the handcuffs off like they’d been paper. Now, his body ground against Styx’s. “You’re a goddamned coward, running from me. From us.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me,” Law demanded. When Styx said nothing, Law brought his mouth on Styx’s in a punishing kiss meant to torment him with memories. His tongue forced itself into Styx’s mouth, his cock pressed against Styx’s as their groins ground together and finally, Styx brought his hand up to twist in Law’s hair, keeping him from breaking the kiss. He tasted like Styx and mint and God, he’d missed this more than he even knew.

This was why he’d stayed away completely. For him, Law was like a drug—addicting and intoxicating, and he was in so much trouble.

He didn’t care. Not when Law’s hand reached between them and unzipped Styx’s jeans so his hard cock slapped unfettered into Law’s hand.

Styx groaned against his mouth at the contact, felt Law smile and then his hand stroked his cock in a way that Styx remembered, played with his Prince Albert piercing in a way that made Styx want to scream and fuck him immediately.

Law had always been talented. Now, more so and Styx wanted nothing more than to let him take over completely, to admit everything to him and beg for forgiveness.

He was this close to doing so, especially when Law stroked harder and fast and Styx’s balls tightened and his orgasm loomed imminently.

“Fuck…Law.” He threw his head back as his hips bucked uncontrollably.

Law could always make him come like this, could always make him lose control…and love it. Styx wondered if Law felt the same or if the loss of control would make Law angry and retreat back into his shell once the orgasm faded and he regained his senses.

Law didn’t clean him or zip him, left Styx to do it himself and when he was done, the lights came up—Tomcat’s signal for the all-clear. For now, at least.

The man’s real name was Clint, but he hadn’t used that in the year and a half he’d been on the sting inside the motorcycle gang’s operation. Better that Styx and everyone else used the call sign. Better…and safer.

Law was staring at him, sizing him up. Goddamn, Law looked good. Rugged, sensual…age had done him well. “Law, you’ve got to let me explain.”

“I know what you want. You want control over me. You don’t want me, but you’ve made sure I can’t be with anyone else.” Law was furious, ten years of pent-up anger tearing into Styx’s soul.

He couldn’t admit to Law that he’d done it enough to himself. Oftentimes it made him seek escape in whiskey and men until he couldn’t see straight. And it never goddamned helped worth a damn.

He reached out to pull Law close, to admit something when they heard more shots. And Styx did grab Law, but only to stop him from running through the restaurant to check on his friend. “Wait—stop,” he told the man, and Law consented for a second as Styx called Tomcat.

Tomcat told him, “There’s another assassin—get the hell out of there.”

“It’s okay—everyone’s all right,” he lied to Law. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Law leveled him with a gaze, his voice as dangerous as Styx had ever heard when he stated, “Not without Paulo.”

When Paulo first heard the shots that rang out from the kitchen, he sprang into action. ID’d himself as a cop, told everyone in the restaurant to get down and stay down under tables or behind the bar and then he pulled his gun and snaked his way through the hallway toward the kitchen. Prayed that LC hadn’t gotten caught in the crossfire.

He remained flat against the wall, ready to check the bathroom for LC when he caught sight of a tall man coming down the corridor, toting a gun and flashing his badge. CIA. He motioned for Paulo to duck into the small break room to his right, and he did.

“What’s going on?” he asked the agent.

“We have it under control.”

“My friend was in the bathroom—”

The agent held up his finger and spoke into the mic on his wrist, then asked, “You Paulo?”

“Yes.”

“He’s all right. He knows you’re okay.” He put his arm down and extended his hand. “Call me Tomcat. Nice work keeping everyone calm out there.”

“Do you need me to call the precinct?”

“I’m sure they’re coming—right now, we’d prefer to keep this quiet.”

Yeah, that was how the feds did things, but Paulo couldn’t shake the feeling that the danger hadn’t passed. That Tomcat was actually shielding him from something.

Was this man protecting him? “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Tomcat simply grinned a little and murmured into the mic on his wrist again. The man was at least six foot-five, with dark hair, tattooed arms and a fierce-looking sawed-off shotgun. Looked like some kind of rogue agent. “You’re gonna stay with me anyway.”

Paulo didn’t answer, and the men remained silent for what seemed like a hell of a long time. Then more shots rang out and he and Tomcat immediately went guns up against either side of the door.

“I’m going—you stay,” Tomcat told him.

“Fuck that. What about all the people in the restaurant?”

“You’re my concern.”

Paulo nodded as if he conceded, because it was faster. Left the room a minute after Tomcat and went in the opposite direction toward the main part of the restaurant. He checked on the patrons, assuring them that he would protect them, making sure no one needed medical attention, because some of them looked like they were in shock.

And then he stilled, because it was too quiet and not at all like a typical aftermath. Whether or not Tomcat was after someone in the kitchen, there was more than one assailant here.

Paulo checked the windows of the restaurant—it was all quiet on the street front, but that wasn’t odd. It was a dead-end, out-of-the-way place and the restaurant was the only destination. The parking lot was in the back and there was only one front entrance from the street.

But there was another doorway to the right—no doubt to a back staircase. Paulo saw the knob turn and then a man came barreling out from where he’d been lying in wait.

And he was staring right at Paulo. Gunning for him.

Paulo didn’t wait to ask how long he’d been there, aimed and pulled the trigger twice, took the bastard down without hesitation.

He’d learned his lesson once, the hard way—hesitation cost you—and, if you were lucky, it was only your pride.

“It’s okay,” he told the patrons, went to the downed man with his gun still drawn, kicked the gun away from the body and knelt to take a pulse.

There was none. Paulo felt for his ID and pulled out a couple of photographs instead.

The first was a picture of him leaving the hospital, dated three months earlier, according to the back. The next showed LC in the hospital, sleeping in his bed, and a piece of paper had the name of the restaurant and the time of their reservation on it.

This had been an ordered hit.

The thought that he and LC were being targeted churned his stomach, and he continued to roust the dead man until Tomcat was hauling him to his feet and sirens sounded in the background.

“Jesus, but you don’t listen.”

Paulo jerked out of his grasp and checked his cell phone, pulled out the battery and found no bugs, but that didn’t matter—they could’ve triangulated the signal some other way. He turned it off just in case it was sending out a signal as Tomcat checked out the dead man on the floor.

“Please, help my husband.”

Paulo turned immediately to help the older gentleman who was having trouble breathing. The air smelled like gunpowder and was thick with fear, and Paulo got the man flat with his feet up as his wife gave him his heart meds under his tongue.

In a minute, the man’s color came back and Paulo allowed Tomcat to move him away.

“Where’s LC?” he demanded as Tomcat waved the paramedics in to help. Two men in suits—more obvious agents than Tomcat—came in behind them, presumably to smooth over the situation.

“You’re a pain in the goddamned ass,” Tomcat muttered to him as they walked toward the kitchen. Paulo saw the blood spatter but he wanted to see LC for himself and that was more important than investigating right at the moment.

“Listen, cop—”

“Detective.”

Tomcat stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Whatever. Look, this is a bad situation.”

“That guy was an assassin,” Paulo said, and Tomcat stared at him as Paulo shoved the pictures into his hands. “He was gunning for me before I’d even turned around. My picture was in his goddamned pocket. Mine and LC’s. So don’t goddamned bullshit me anymore.”

Tomcat put his hands up as if in surrender, told him, “I’m going to put you in the kitchen with your friend and another agent. Think you can stay put and stop being a hero long enough to get an explanation?”

Paulo stared at him, trying to determine if that was sarcasm, and saw nothing but respect in the man’s eyes. It might make things easier, but this was far from over.

After Law refused to leave, there were two more shots that practically had him clawing at the door. He’d even tried to take Styx’s gun to go out there but Styx held him back and listened on the mic as Tomcat kept him up to date.

Apparently, the cop was suddenly a hero—and completely fucked at the same time. He’d discovered the hit out on him and Law…the only thing he didn’t know was that Styx was the main target.

If Styx had his way, no one beyond him and Tomcat would ever know that part. But it was far too late to keep the secret that his father was also after Law, and Paulo now, by default. The only one he would keep was the fact that his father didn’t want him back into the fold this time—no, the man wanted him dead.

“Where’s Paulo? I want to see him,” Law demanded.

“Fine.” Styx gritted his teeth and muttered to Tomcat using the mic on his wrist. “Bring him in here.”

It only took a minute before Tomcat was ushering Paulo in, the towheaded man looking more handsome than Styx remembered.

Paulo looked more than pissed, glared at Styx as he went to Law who was barreling toward him too. “You all right?”

The complete concern on both their parts was impossible to miss and threatened to overwhelm him, and he almost turned away when Law tugged Paulo into his arms, murmured, “Jesus, I’m fine. Heard the shots.”

“Good.” Paulo looked over Law’s shoulder at Styx, his eyes held questions but he didn’t say anything else.

“Can we get out of here and go home?” Law turned to ask Styx.

“No.” Styx glanced at Tomcat who then slipped out of the room, no doubt to get the safe house directive in order, because what would happen next would not be pleasant for any of them. “These men are dangerous.”

“And they’re after us?” Law asked.

“They’re after you because of me. They followed me to your hospital room and they’ve been tailing you ever since,” Styx admitted.

“Why?” Law demanded, ignoring the part about the hospital visit, which made Styx’s gut tighten. What had he expected, Law to run into his arms with that admission?

“Because they know that the best way to get to me is through someone I love.”

Paulo stared between the two of them as he remained in Law’s arms—because Law was holding on to him tightly. “You’re the one who left him for years.”

“You’re the one who’ll leave before the year’s out, if your stay-in-one-place-for-two-years-or-less pattern holds. Or is Law the love of your life? The one who’ll make you stay, even if it means trouble?”