4-Bound By Danger (22 page)

“I thought I was allowed to have time to myself.”

“You know I’m not talking about that, so don’t even attempt to bullshit me. I told you to stay away from the MC. You said you would.”

“I couldn’t,” Jace said flatly.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“I don’t deal in what-ifs.”

“How very military of you,” Clint said dryly, looked at Jace’s bruised cheek closely. “I want to kill the men who did this to you with my bare hands.”

“It’s nothing,” he said in an attempt to cut off Clint’s concerns at the pass.

“I wish it was.”

“Clint, I get you’re worried—I really do. But I can handle my own shit.”

“So this happened because you were handling your own shit?”

“Actually, it happened because of Jack, since you want to know so damned badly.”

“Jack had something to do with this?” Clint asked, and Jace nodded. “You’re sure?”

“Considering he told me, yeah, I’m pretty damned sure.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“I almost took care of that myself, but it’s not worth it, Clint.”

“It is if he’s fucking with your life.”

“I can take care of shit myself.”

“I realize that, but I want to help you.”

“I didn’t need help.”

Clint sighed. “Why do you keep trying to push me away?”

Jace wanted to say he didn’t know, but he did. And he was tired of being sorry for things. So he didn’t say a word.

“Do you really not want me here?” Clint asked, his tone softer now.

“I need…time.”

“Not sex. I know. But you shouldn’t be alone, and I’m not leaving.” He moved away from Jace and went into the house with his bag. Came back out and grabbed groceries from his truck, and within ten minutes of him going inside, Jace smelled food cooking. And still, he stayed outside for another hour until the alcohol worked and the tension left his body.

“Eat, then sleep,” Clint told him when he brought him out a giant dish of stew and fresh bread. Clint didn’t stay out there with him, and when Jace came in, he noted that Clint had taken the second bedroom.

He didn’t know why that pissed him off, but it did. At the very least, Clint had respected his wishes in that small way, and Jace hadn’t wanted him to. Not right now, when he was calmer and hurting and wanting Clint to work his magic.

And that wasn’t fair to the man, either. He’d acted like an asshole, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Clint tracked him down.

He wasn’t big on apologies, but he had to do something. So he stood in the small hallway where he knew Clint could see him, and he stripped down, slowly. Knew Clint was watching him but didn’t make eye contact. Leaned against the wall and stroked his cock. He closed his eyes and let out a long, low moan, and he heard Clint’s breathing quicken.

“I need you,” he said finally, a whisper so low he wasn’t sure he’d even spoken out loud. But he didn’t need to open his eyes to feel Clint in front of him. The man’s hands slowly took his shoulders, pulled him close, stopping him from stroking long enough to put his hands around Clint’s back.

They stood there together in the quiet, his heart pounding against Clint’s, and he didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Clint didn’t seem to need to hear anything, just told Jace, “Put your hands above your head,” and when Jace complied, Clint left him there for a second and returned with lube. He began to stroke Jace’s ass as he moaned, and then he let go of Jace’s arms and warned, “You’d better hold on.”

Jace climbed the man, his arms and legs twined around him, and Clint entered him in one long stroke. The way he was positioned, his legs were spread so wide that the pain quickly turned to pleasure as Clint’s cock speared his prostate over and over and he was thrusting back as best he could, his moans uncontrollable.

He’d thought he wouldn’t be up for sex that night. But it seemed to be exactly what he needed to start healing.

No, you needed Clint.
And that was the bottom line. It scared him more than anything.

“I’m glad you tracked me down,” he said when they were done, after Clint carried him back into one of the bedrooms—it didn’t matter which one—and covered him.

“Always, baby. Because it’s what you want, even when you think you don’t.”

The man knew him well, and Jace wanted so badly to confess everything to him. But that would change everything between them.

Are you ever going to tell him?

No. Not if he could help it.

Something was still bothering Jace. Clint stroked his hair, and he waited semipatiently until Jace finally said, “You know, I harp on you all the time about not opening up to me, but I haven’t exactly been open with you all the time either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Probably because I hate talking about it. Maybe I think you’ll think less of me. So by not coming out and telling you, I’ve been covering my own six.”

“Nice armchair psychology,” Clint said. “While you share, will you let me clean some of those scrapes up?”

Jace sighed, fake-dramatic. “Fine.”

Clint got the supplies he needed, plus ice, and went to work while Jace sat patiently. Clint could tell that he wanted to open up but was unsure of where to begin.

“Did you grow up with Kenny?” he asked.

“Yeah. When my parents died, Kenny’s parents raised me. They were older when they had him, and so Kenny and I are all we have left.” Jace paused. “The weird thing is, we aren’t close—not the same interests or friends or ambitions, but I’d do anything for him.”

Clint wanted to tell Jace if that were true, he should be getting them both out of the MC, but he refrained. “You enlisted right out of high school?”

“Yeah, couldn’t wait. My grades sucked. I hated school, didn’t like it until I knew what I wanted to do, and then all the pieces fit.”

“You decided on the teams?”

“More like they picked me. I was headed into the pilot program. My CO tossed out a challenge and here I am. Never could resist a challenge.”

Clint felt a sense of unease settle in his gut. Was he just one more challenge in Jace’s life? If so, well, hell, he’d been more than halfway conquered.

But domesticated? He looked around, and fuck, next he’d be doing the kid’s laundry.

“What about you? Military in your family?” Jace was asking him.

“My grandfather,” Clint confirmed “My dad was in the CIA. I was used to being alone.”

“You’re an only child?”

“Yes.”

Jace looked at him strangely for a second, and Clint tensed, waited for the inevitable questions. Instead, Jace opened up his own floodgates. “My childhood sucked. Would’ve been worse if my mom hadn’t died of alcohol poisoning and my dad in a drunken wreck before I went to live with Kenny’s family,” Jace said roughly, hating to have to revisit this, and knowing it was necessary.

Clint was silent for a long moment, his hand still on Jace’s shoulder, and he knew the man was looking at the markings on his back in a different light. “I don’t want to make a big fucking deal about it,” he added.

“Some of these scars, then…” Clint trailed off as his fingers moved over puckered skin, but his tone of voice hadn’t changed any—there wasn’t pity—just questions.

“He was always careful to keep the bruises out of sight,” Jace explained.

His eyes met Clint’s, and he saw the anger, carefully controlled but right under the surface. This man would kill for him—save him—do anything for him if and when Jace asked, and maybe sometimes when he didn’t. It hadn’t become that clear, that simple, until that moment.

It panicked him more than it should have. Instead of focusing on why, he answered Clint’s unspoken question.

“I probably would’ve gotten to that point myself. I shot up enough that next year after he died. I always wonder if he would’ve kept fucking with me if I was bigger.”

“Bullies always think they’re bigger,” Clint said. “What the hell could you have done?”

“He found out I wasn’t his. My mom had an affair. He took it out on us, and she took it out on me.” His tears rose hotly to the surface, but he held them back. They didn’t deserve them—never had. “Childhood really sucked. But it evened out a little when I got to Kenny’s. His parents expected me to keep an eye on him, and I did.”

It was a perfect time to confess everything, but when Clint pulled him in for a kiss, he wanted that way more.

“You’re still upset. Talk to me, Jace. You want me to stop holding back, so you stop, too.”

Clint looked so earnest, and Jace wanted to just fuck the man—or be fucked. Wanted the talking to stop immediately.

“When I have shit to deal with—”

“You run. And by run, I mean avoid—like the hotel in Stan. After the SEALs were killed. This…”

Jace glared at him, but his mouth finally twisted into a wry grin. “Yeah, all right—I get it. So, what do you do when you have shit to deal with?”

“Chase me and find out.”

“I did, remember? That first night.”

“I recall inviting you in—taking you to the loft.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jace put his head against Clint’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have let you get hurt that night.”

“Why are you surprised when I feel the same?”

Jace shrugged. “I haven’t had too many people in my life who have. I figured, don’t get used to things. Makes it easier.”

“But you care about Kenny—won’t leave him behind.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not very street smart. Got involved with the Killers before I knew. I never would’ve let him join.”

Clint held him closer. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Jace really wasn’t sure at all. He’d blown the Feds off and would probably get his ass handed to him. But he hadn’t betrayed a single confidence of Clint’s. “Sometimes it’s all so hard. Sometimes, I just want easy.”

“You know as well as I do that the things worth having are those you fought the hardest for.”

“I fought battles because I refused to let anyone get bullied or hurt around me,” Jace said fiercely. “I probably did too much.”

“You can never do too much,” Clint said quietly.

“You were abused?”

“Not physically.”

“Sometimes, the other kind is worse,” Jace said. And then Clint sat there and told him about his father—his mother—a childhood that didn’t resemble a childhood at all. And just like that, everything they’d done to each other made sense, the way Clint didn’t think he could have a life outside the CIA, the way Jace ran when Clint was in danger of getting too close to him. The final pieces of the puzzle fit—and fit well. The walls were finally down, past laid out like scattered cards that needed to be put back into place, but it would be a new order. A stronger, better one.

Clint moved to dig in the pocket of his jacket, brought back a key. “I’ll give you the code too. I don’t spend a lot of time there because it’s not a home. I like staying at your place. It feels right.”

Jace stared at him, weighed his next words carefully. “Why don’t you move in with me, then?”

“Just like that? What happens when you need your space?” Clint’s voice was teasing but then he added, “I don’t want to crowd you, but I’d like to come home to you—or you to me.”

“I’d like that. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. I’m out of the MC.”

“You’re choice or the MC’s?”

“Both,” he admitted. “If I can’t convince Kenny to get out of state, which is looking less and less likely, there’s nothing more I can do. I’ve risked enough.”

“Yeah, you have,” Clint told him quietly. Jace took the key from him anyway, even though he wouldn’t be needing it.

He’d tell his handler that he was done in the morning and let the chips fall where they may. And then he’d tell Clint. But not now—he wasn’t ruining this.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rex was surprised to find Sawyer at his door. He’d been thinking about calling the boy, or going to his place, but instead he’d let them both go about their business like they were unaffected. The biggest lie he’d ever told himself, and he had to force himself to invite Sawyer in and stand in the living room instead of immediately dragging him up into the bedroom and never allowing him to leave again.

Sawyer shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “Why don’t you let me stay over?”

Rex looked into his eyes and admitted, “I have nightmares.”

Sawyer swallowed hard, like he hadn’t been sure at all of what Rex would say, and then he relaxed a little, even as Rex tensed up further. “Okay. Well, I think I can handle that.”

Rex snorted. “I can’t even handle them.”

“Maybe if someone’s with you when you sleep, they won’t come,” Sawyer said. “I’m guessing you never tried that.”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t want you to have to hear me wake up like that, all right? I can’t control them. I fucking hate them.”

“It’s because of what happened—your capture, right?”

“Yeah.” Rex shook his head. “I feel like I’ll never get it out of my head. I’ve got to make it stop fucking with me.”