Finding Eden (4 page)

“I just…” Paul started, pulling his shirt out of Danny’s grasp and pushing it down self-consciously. “I didn’t feel like pretending. I didn’t wanna give him what he wanted…not this time.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny studied Paul in concern, feeling a near-desperate need to fix a situation there was no easy fix for. “What’d he want?”

“What every abuser wants,” Paul said with a mirthless laugh. “He wanted me to cry uncle. He needs the satisfaction of knowing he beat me. He lives off it.”

“He
did
beat you,” Danny said, his eyes wide as he gave Paul a pointed look. “Badly.”

“No, he didn’t,” Paul whispered, not sounding conceited. It was just a sadly stated fact. “He never beats me. I just let him think he does and this time I didn’t feel like playing along. I didn’t ask him to stop. I didn’t beg for mercy. I just took it silently until he and my brothers wore themselves out.”

“And he kicked you out,” Danny said, the realization dawning on him. “They know you’re stronger than them. It scared ’em.”

“What difference does it make? Evie’s gone.” Paul walked over and sat heavily on Danny’s bed. “I’m all alone in the world. I don’t know how to be normal without her.”

“And what am I?” Danny growled, his shoulders stiffening in hurt he couldn’t hide. “I coulda gone to New York,” he reminded Paul, feeling a bit too raw to care about how obvious he was being. “I don’t love fishing
that
much.”

Paul looked up at him, his bruised, swollen face still beautiful, his blue eyes clear and shining with a strange purity that shouldn’t exist in the gaze of a man who had lived a life as difficult as his. “Can I crash here for a few days?”

“Sure,” Danny said, forgetting his anger when he realized Paul needed him. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“I can help out, run the horses, do work on the ranch. I could help your father on construction sites. I’ll work for free and I’m gonna call the coach tomorrow and see if I can set up housing—”

“Paul Guy,” Danny snapped, cutting off his rambling. “You can stay here. You don’t have to work for it.”

“But I will,” Paul said instantly. “I don’t mind.”

“But you don’t have to.” He stepped into Paul’s personal space, reaching out to touch his shoulder in a gesture that was probably too gentle. He wasn’t surprised when Paul flinched from the touch, a look of embarrassment passing over his face as he looked away. That was probably the most heartbreaking thing Danny could imagine, someone as kindhearted as Paul not knowing how to accept something as simple as a concerned touch from a friend. Danny’s voice softened as he said, “We should get you cleaned up.”

“I’m okay,” Paul argued. “It looks worse than it is.”

“It wasn’t a question,” Danny barked, knowing Paul responded to orders as opposed to options. It was the military upbringing. It left its mark and Danny knew he had to work within it. “Get up.” He tightened his grip on Paul’s shoulder, tugging in an insistent gesture for him to stand. “We’ll get you cleaned up and then you can go to sleep.”

“Fine.” Paul stood, pulling his shirt over his head, not even wincing over the bruising that had to be excruciating. It looked as if he shouldn’t be able to move. “I really am sorry for putting you out.”

“You’re not putting me out.” Danny went to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and flipped on the light. “The joys of a codependent. We live to fix the perpetually broken. Ask my mother about it if you don’t believe me.”

“I’m not broken,” Paul said defensively.

Danny studied him as Paul walked into the bathroom, showing off a massive, beautifully muscled back covered in bruises and cigar burns. “You’re pretty broken, Paul Guy,” he sighed, knowing he needed more than the small tube of antibiotic ointment he had in his drawer. “I think I need to go to the store.”

“It’s fine,” Paul assured him as he unbuttoned his jeans in the careless manner of a man who had been playing football for most of his life. “Really, I just need a place to lay my head for a few days until I can get the housing situation worked out with the coach. I’m sure he can get me a dorm room.”

“Your coach is gonna freak if he sees you like this,” Danny said imploringly, dismayed to find his fingers were itching to fix the damage. “Please let me try and patch you up a little.”

Paul considered him for a moment, as if hearing some sort of whining desperation in Danny’s voice before he nodded. “Sure, fine, I’d appreciate it,” he said with a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Danny heaved a sigh of relief as he turned on the shower. He held his hand under the water, trying to get it to the right temperature. A part of him knew Paul was catering to him and his battered soul by agreeing to let Danny fuss over him, not the other way around. He may not have played along for his father, but he was playing along for him and Danny was too grateful and relieved to call him on it.

It really wasn’t his place to call Paul broken.

Between the two of them, Paul was more stable and together than Danny could ever hope to be.

Chapter Two

Two years later

“When are you gonna come to work for me full-time?”

“Never.” Danny snorted, tugging on his jeans. He made a point to look away from the bed. Now that Danny was sated, the occupant didn’t look as good as he had before their interlude. He never did. “I do have standards.”

“Bullshit.” Tony laughed at the notion. “The only standards you got is a hard-on for that pretty-boy football player you’re always hanging around with. You’d rather be broke than piss him off.”

“Pretty much,” Danny said, rather than denying it. “He’s the voice of my conscience and I’m probably better for it.”

“I think you oughta find a different voice for your conscience. My voice.”

“Right, that’s a great plan,” Danny said dryly as he sat on the bed, pulling on his socks and boots.

“My voice would make sure you were kept in the style you want to become accustomed to instead of being a love-sick, worthless bum who works for his father.”

Danny rolled his eyes, letting the insult go. “I’m not selling drugs to kids, asshole. I’d rather be a bum.”

Tony gave a snort of disbelief as he rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the bathroom in the large hotel room where they’d agreed to meet. One of the few benefits to fucking inside the mafia—fantastic accommodations for casual sex.

“Your pretty boy isn’t as innocent as you think he is,” Tony called from the bathroom over the sound of him taking a piss.

Danny pulled a face of disgust, hating Tony all of a sudden and, more so, hating himself for being there with him. Standards, like hell. If Danny had them he wouldn’t be fucking the spoiled, corrupt son of a major mafia boss. “Ton, I’m taking off. I got shit to do besides you.”

“You coming tomorrow?” Tony asked, walking out of the bathroom buck-fucking naked. His gaze ran over Danny leeringly. “I’ll pay you extra if you do.”

Danny grabbed his shirt, tugged it on, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “Don’t you have better muscle than me for your little pet projects? Can’t you borrow real thugs from your father?”

“No.” He laughed, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t let just anyone fuck me. It takes a scary son of a bitch to get me to take it up the ass.”

“You love taking it up the ass. You’d give it to anyone with a pulse,” Danny said bitterly. His wallet was decidedly empty, his bank account even more so considering it had been in the negative for the past week. With a sinking heart he realized he would rather kick the shit out of some of Tony’s less-than-honest employees than ask his father for a dime. “Are you sure they’re stealing from you?”

“Yes,” Tony said without hesitation “Arty’s got a boy on the inside, says they’re robbing me blind. I’m not asking you to kill ’em. I know that’s not your style. Just scare ’em a little. You’ll love it. They’re real soulless bastards.”

“Takes one to know one I guess,” Danny said, miserable with his life. “Whatever, fine, I’ll be there and the extra you plan on paying me better be currency.”

Tony grinned. “It’s currency in some countries.”

“I want cash,” Danny said, rather than taking the bait. “I consider fucking you a charity, not a benefit.”

Tony laughed again, sounding thoroughly amused. “You got a serious case of the crazy. You should kiss the ground I walk on for letting you fuck me.”

“I got news for you.” Danny leaned in closer to whisper to Tony, speaking slowly. “It’s not that great.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Tony shoved him, but Danny was nimble and didn’t lose his footing. He stood his ground, arching an eyebrow at Tony, who sulked in a rare show of petulance as he reached out and poked Danny’s chest sharply. “And I got news for
you
, smartass. That pretty boy you’re pining for, he ain’t that sweet. I saw him at one of Arty’s parties last week.”

“Fuck you,” Danny said in disbelief. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those parties.”

“Believe it, pal.” Tony’s smile turned dark and malicious, his petulance forgotten. “Your pretty boy’s into some seriously fucked-up shit. He was real popular on his knees, licking some nice, smooth pussy and—”

“Shut up,” Danny growled, reaching to the dresser and grabbing Tony’s gun. He cocked it without thinking and pointed it at him. “If I find out you’re fucking spreading rumors about him, you worthless—”

Tony laughed, a bone-chillingly manic sound as he leaned into Danny, forcing his forehead against the gun. “Do it, Carlow, I dare you. Kill me for spreading rumors about your one and only.”

“Fucked-up piece of shit.” Danny pulled the gun back, having the off-thought that he shouldn’t put his prints on a gun Tony was carrying around. Who knew what sort of crime he could end up framed for? He locked the safety and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. “I’m taking this.”

“It’s all yours,” Tony said nonchalantly, not the least bit unnerved by Danny’s outburst. “I really did see your boyfriend at Arty’s party. That wasn’t bullshit.”

Danny was good at reading people. He could hear the ring of truth in Tony’s voice. “You just thought you saw him. Paul’s not wearing dog collars and crawling around like the freaks at Arty’s parties. There is
no way
.”

Tony gave him a look that said he firmly believed Paul was doing both of those things. Obviously bored with the subject of Paul, his attention span short as always, he walked back to the bed and crawled onto it, rolling over and spreading his legs invitingly. He stroked himself, giving Danny a lecherous smile. “You sure you wanna leave?”

“Pretty sure,” Danny said, watching Tony despite his disgust with him at the moment. He tilted his head, enjoying the novelty of being a voyeur. “What the fuck were
you
doing at Arty’s party?”

“Looking for you.” His smile broadened. “I fuck you, so I gotta be twisted. Don’t look so surprised.”

“You wearing dog collars for some asshole, Ton?” Danny grinned at the notion. “Are you someone’s bitch?”

“I’ll be
your
bitch,” he taunted. “You want me to be your bitch?”

Danny laughed, unimpressed. “Been there, done that. I told you, I got shit to do.”

“You suck,” Tony said, suddenly sounding like the twenty-year-old he was.

Danny smirked as he turned to leave. “Sometimes.”

* * * * *

“Touchdown!”

Danny leaned against the fence, watching Paul run across the field behind the recreation center. He waved his hands around like an idiot while a whole pack of seven- and eight-year-old boys laughed and squealed after him. These were underprivileged kids. They needed programs like Pee Wee football to keep them off the streets and safe from assholes like Tony. It took a special breed of guy to make himself look that stupid in public just to amuse a few lonely kids.

Danny knew he chose well in having Paul be the voice of his conscience. He just needed to turn up the volume a little and stop doing jobs for bastards like Tony. What started as a casual hook-up in the dark corner of a gay club was the beginning of a downward spiral into organized crime that had been painfully easy to fall into. Danny was obviously too good of a lay for his own good, because Tony started hounding him for a second and third meeting. He was a decent-looking, enthusiastic bottom and Danny wasn’t overly concerned with the legalities of his lovers’ day jobs, considering he had never been exactly law-abiding himself.

The problems started when Danny’s lack of funds coincided with Tony’s need for someone to do his dirty work. Tony was crazy, but he wasn’t a fighter, and unfortunately Danny was. There was a reason Tony kept bugging him to work full-time and it wasn’t for Danny’s big cock. He was depressingly good at kicking the shit out of drug dealers.

While leaning there sulking over his life, Danny saw Paul spot him. Paul ran toward the fence, grinning like a fool, his face flushed and glimmering with sweat under the dying afternoon sunlight. Stopping in front of Danny, Paul took a spectacular dive into the grass when the kids caught up to him, going down hard enough to make Danny flinch from the sound of the thump. Grass wasn’t
that
soft.

“Say hi to Mr. Danny,” Paul said with a muffled
umph
when two of the boys jumped on his back.

“Let’s not,” Danny said with a look of distaste, admiring Paul for working with children, but being very glad he didn’t personally have to do it. “I thought you were done at seven.”

“Is it seven?” Paul asked, lifting his head to look at Danny. “Already?”

Danny gave him a wan smile. “Seven done past twenty minutes ago, Paul Guy. I have other things to do besides be your chauffeur.”

“Shoot.” Paul gave Danny a guilty look as he rolled over, forcing the two boys on his back to go tumbling into the grass. “Let’s get our equipment! Go, go, go!”

“Awww,” they whined in unison.

One boy cried out, “I don’t wanna go home.”

“Tomorrow, Tommy,” Paul said, pushing gently at Tommy’s back as he got to his feet. “I’ll be here. You’ll be here. We’ll work on tackles. That’s always fun.”

Danny rolled his eyes, turned his back on the field and lit a cigarette while he waited. He rubbed at his forehead with the fingers holding the cigarette, wishing he’d taken a shower before coming to get Paul. He felt dirty on a soul-deep level and it bothered him to be around Paul with Tony still all over him.