Dangerous (2 page)

“Your mother has one,” Brady countered. “But even after the happiest year of your life—your words—you haven’t even considered it. Why?”

“No one has the right to stamp a label on me.”

Brady rolled his eyes. “So you were fine with the man-whore, sex addict and lady killer labels? Good with all the other names women called you after they realized you weren’t staying for breakfast or calling for a second date?”

The women in the pub booed playfully and Owen winced.

“The label isn’t the point, dumbass,” Brady continued. “But if you don’t want it? Stop earning it. Your house has thin walls, and I rarely sleep as it is. I know what happens in your room every night. Everyone in a three-mile radius knows.”

Several men in the bar groaned in protest, but Brady just raised his voice. “I’m not exaggerating. I spent months wondering how either of them could walk without crutches. At least they have good health insurance. Can’t say for sure that it covers their style of sexual acrobatics, but who knows?”

“Jealousy is an ugly emotion, cousin.” A muscle twitched along Owen’s jaw. Brady could see it clearly on the small screen. “Just because you’re living like a monk doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”

“Of course m’jealous,” Brady’s words were slurring, so he took another drink. “Anyone in this bar that says they’re not is lying. Do you think I’m a monk by choice? I’m not. I miss sex. You have
no idea
how much I miss sex. I’d gladly risk regular trips to the hospital for exhaustion if I could have what you and Jeremy have. But we’re not talking about my relationship issues; we’re talking about yours. And when it comes to that, you, my friend, are spoiled. You hit the boyfriend jackpot and you got used to having all his time and energy. But as soon as he wasn’t focused on you twenty-four hours a day you started acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not spoiled.”

“Really? Who was the guy frowning in all your brother’s wedding pictures because your boyfriend was Man of Honor and had to help the bride instead of dance with you all night?”

Owen pointed at Brady. “That’s not—”

“Who sat in his pajamas, eating pizza and pouting while I power-washed the dock and fixed the roof when Jeremy went to that convention last month and didn’t invite you?”

Owen was scowling. “You said you didn’t need help, and those comic book conventions are full of signature-starved deviants. I would be stupid
not
to worry about him going alone.” He looked at the stranger next to him. “It’s more complicated than he’s making it sound. I’m not jealous of—”

“Right. You’re not jealous,” Brady interrupted, on a roll. “Because you’re not gay and you two are just buddies. Buddies who fuck like it’s an Olympic sport you’re training to medal in. Who cuddle on the couch after work to watch a movie or slash your mutual Xbox enemies. Buddies who can’t resist saying, ‘I love you’ and stopping to kiss every five minutes. When you’re not holding hands and romping with your cute little dog by the lake.”

A woman wearing a birthday tiara leaned on her hand and sighed beside them. “That sounds like heaven or a Hallmark movie. If you don’t want your boyfriend, Blondie, I’ll take him off your hands. I love a good romp.”

“
I want him
.” Owen covered his face with one hand, swearing before he turned back to the bar. “You’re just trying to piss me off now.”

Seamus moved into the camera’s view. “Maybe you should give him a break, Brady.”

“He doesn’t need a break, he needs honesty. I’m actually trying to help.” Brady laid a hand on Owen’s shoulder and the image zoomed in. If he weren’t so humiliated, he would have been impressed with the picture and sound quality on that asshole’s smartphone.

“I get it, believe me,” video-Brady rambled on. “Sure, with the family and at that private club of yours it’s fine. But the same guys who praised you in the locker room for your football skills and lady-killer rep are avoiding you. You had one employee turn in his resignation when he found out. You stop yourself from kissing the man you love in public because you know people will stare. We can toast Ireland and the Supreme Court’s decision all night long—” The pub cheered at that before he continued. “But we’ll still have to wake up in the morning and know that people don’t change as fast as the laws, and someone at the next party you go to will be surprised you don’t act the way their favorite television show told them a gay man would.”

“Exactly.” Owen turned back to Brady, his own cheeks rosy with drink. “That’s it, that’s exactly it. It’s none of their fucking business, is it? I’m in love with
Jeremy
. He’s the only one I have to answer to. The only one that matters.”

“Then why did you follow me here instead of talking to him?”

“I can’t. Not about… I can’t.”

“You have to. Put yourself in his shoes for a minute. You won’t say you’re gay but you’re still in his bed. I’ve seen the way he reacts. I know it bugs him. He’s smart enough to know your kind of situation rarely turns out well. Loving him has made your life more difficult. He has to carry that, wondering each day if you’re going to look at him and decide it’s not worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it. We already dealt with his doubts. He
knows
I love him. He knows I’m committed.” 

Brady scoffed. “I know he’s gotten you to open up more than anyone else ever has, but you always hold something back. Like the fact that you’ve wanted to propose since you moved in.”

Owen stared at him in telling silence.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve been too afraid to ask because you can’t drag him to the altar the way you strong-armed your way into his pants and his house. He actually has to say yes to more than a shared pet and that is scaring the shit out of you. That’s why you’ve been pissed every time his phone rings. Why I knew it was time to pack up this morning. You want to pop the question.”

Owen was evasive. “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome, I just thought… I don’t want to mess this up. If I’m doing it, it has to be right. And I need to have his undivided attention.”

“Well, then take him to some romantic getaway where none of our relatives or his friends from the convention can get ahold of him. He’ll say yes. He would’ve said yes a year ago.” Brady paused and pounded the bar for emphasis. “But if you’re serious, be serious. You’re a Finn. We go all in or not at all. Don’t use this bullshit label excuse anymore, because honestly? It sounds like you’re keeping one foot out the door. Also, cool it with the jealous fishwife routine. You want to remind him of all the reasons he can’t live without you, not send him running in the other direction.”

“He won’t be able to run.” The smile on his cousin’s face was disturbing. “Or answer his damn phone. I have a set of handcuffs and a paddle I can use that will make him agree to anything. Eventually.”

The crowd at the bar cheered raucously and the camera focused on Brady’s grimace before he reached for yet another drink of rum.

The woman in the tiara patted him on the shoulder, a wad of cash in her hand. “I always knew Cupid was a kinky redhead.”

“I’m not kinky.”

“Whatever. Now that you’ve solved his problem I have one that needs fixing. My friends hired a dancer for my birthday, but he didn’t show up and Seamus refuses to show me his shameless side. Take it off, Red. Take it
all
off!”

The screen froze after that and Brady closed his eyes in humiliation. “So that really happened. I suppose it’s lucky I don’t have a lease and my passport’s still good. I can be out of the country by tomorrow.”

Ken laughed and set his phone down. “Relax, Cupid. It only had a couple of views before I scrubbed it and closed that idiot’s account. He won’t be uploading anything for a while. Neither will his cats. I did save a copy for myself since I missed seeing it in person by mere minutes.”

And
that
was why he’d been drinking so heavily. He remembered—Ken had sent him a text message a few minutes before his cousin arrived, telling him to stay at the pub because they needed to talk. Had they had a conversation? Was there a video of that too?

Ken nudged his shoulder with his own. “No need to be embarrassed, Finn. That was an Academy-worthy speech, and long overdue. Owen can’t stay in his bubble forever. You could be the spokesperson for the LGBT community. The new slogan would be ‘Admit you’re gay, everyone else knows anyway.’”

“Fuck you.”

“Seriously, you’re a surprisingly eloquent drunk. And a talented stripper.”

His throat closed in panic. “Tanaka, I swear—”

“Kidding,” Ken interrupted, laying a hand on Brady’s biceps. “I’m kidding. I couldn’t resist. But you can. Even when I offered to pay every tab at the bar and people were chanting your name in their bid for free beer, you wouldn’t agree to stripping in public.”

“Thank God for that.” Brady realized abruptly that his head had stopped pounding. “And thank you for pulling that video down. I don’t think I would’ve been welcome back for the holidays if anyone in the family had seen it. Seamus and Owen still might ban me for life after that performance.” What had he been thinking?

Ken was caressing his arm now, a comforting, almost absent gesture that sent a blast of focused heat down his spine and straight to his cock. It was making it hard for Brady to breathe, but he couldn’t force himself to move away.

“Seamus won’t admit it,” Ken said, “but he got a kick out of you reading the riot act to Owen. His twin might be a stuffy politician, but our bartender has a wild side. He’s just too busy being Super Dad to let it out.”

Brady grinned wryly. “Stephen isn’t that stuffy.”

“I am well aware.” Ken’s voice was a seduction. “I’ve seen Tasha in action at the club for years, and for weeks I’ve been seeing her glowing newlywed smile and their PDAs in the paper. No true vanilla could keep up with that sassy switch and make her as happy as he does.”

Brady tensed in reaction and Ken’s hand fell away. “I don’t think I’m recovered enough to think about what my cousin can or can’t keep up with. And you know I had my fill of BDSM buzz words at Burke’s kinky party of the damned. I wanted to bleach my brain for weeks to forget it all—including the fact that vanilla refers to something other than a cool, delicious flavor of ice cream.”

“You wanted to forget everything?”

Brady looked down at his hands. Not
everything
, but he wasn’t recovered enough to think about that either.

It had been a strange experience. Playing Senator Stephen Finn’s bodyguard for the federal investigation into Burke’s illegal activities was a little too eye-opening for Brady’s peace of mind. At least the sight of naked men voluntarily being strapped to crosses and women wagging their furry tails as they drank from a dish on the floor had shocked him out of his own head. He would be grateful if he could stop cringing every time he thought about it.

Kink was
not
his scene.

It was, however, Ken’s. Seeing him at Burke’s house, watching the way everyone looked to him for approval and how expertly he worked those ropes, had made it clear he was in his element.

It had also gotten Brady so hard he’d had to walk away more than once to recover his composure. The one time he couldn’t, Ken had kissed him, and it had been better than the best sex he’d ever had—which was sad when he let himself think about it.

But not even the intense chemistry between them would get Brady to date a man who considered pain and bondage a form of foreplay. Being tied up wasn’t sexy; it was a training exercise in surviving interrogation and torture.

Brady still had no idea what had happened after his pub speech. A smart man wouldn’t ask. A smart man would find his clothes and leave as fast as his hangover would let him.

Brady clearly wasn’t that smart.

He turned his head to stare into golden eyes that were far too close for comfort. “Why am I here, Tanaka? Tell me the truth.”

Ken’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “Truth? You’re here because Seamus is an easy mark, so the room behind the pub—the room Jen stayed in until she went back to college—is occupied for the next two weeks. Knowing him, it’s probably another damsel in distress. Let’s just hope she doesn’t have a child in need of adopting. Seamus already has a full house.”

He vaguely recalled it now. Seamus felt so guilty for not being able to help Brady right away that he’d offered him a drink on the house. And then another.

“Since you couldn’t crash there, you had to start thinking about other options. You told me about your situation and I offered you a place to stay in exchange for your services.”

And Brady had agreed? To
live
with Ken? He’d actually thought that was a good idea? Talk about impaired decision-making skills.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Brady gathered the sheet and stood up, away from temptation. “I have options. A few of them include couches I can sleep on free of charge until I find a place of my own.”

Ken stood as he did, his arms crossed over his bare chest, drawing Brady’s gaze to the silver cross that hung from an overlong chain around his neck. Had he seen that before? He didn’t think so.

“I know about your options, Finn. Five brothers and a father who’d all be willing to let you stay with them as long as you started acting like yourself again and rejoined the police force. As long as you told exciting war stories while pretending your years in the military hadn’t changed you.”

“Wow.” Brady ran his free hand through his hair, clutching the sheet with the other. “I
do
talk a lot when I’m drunk. And you were nice enough to give me a ride anyway. Sorry about that.”

Ken’s expression was intimate. “I’m not. Last night was unforgettable. For some of us. And I was already planning on asking for your help. We make a good team.”

That was true enough. They’d toppled the corrupt Burke and the complicit local paper that was a part of his media empire. They’d also saved Seamus from losing Little Sean and gotten Tasha and Stephen back together, though Brady knew that most of it was Ken’s doing. He was just the muscle who did good legwork. Tanaka had been the brain.