Fortune's Favor (A Power Up! Story) (4 page)

Nathan swallowed, the sound loud in the otherwise silent house.

Avery didn’t have to look down to see Nathan’s erection. His dilated pupils and quickened breath showed what Avery felt—bone-deep arousal. In toying with Nathan, he’d aroused himself all over again.

Shit
. He stepped back and winked. “Yep. Diane was a lucky, lucky girl. But hey, princess. I bet one day you’ll get your happily-ever-after with the boy of your dreams too. Too bad you’re not lucky enough to have me.”
Yet
, dangled in his mind. He stepped away while he was still able and turned around, deliberately giving Nathan his back.

He thought he heard Nathan groan.

“I’m going to scout out the house. I’m thinking one of the bedrooms upstairs, away from foot traffic and outside access, will make a good command center. I’ll let you know.” Avery walked away and had made it halfway up the steps before Nathan responded.

“You’re a total asshole, you know that?” he yelled. “No way I’d be unlucky enough in this lifetime to have you. Not in two lifetimes!”

“That’s a lot of protest, son,” Avery yelled back to be heard and laughed to himself when Nathan swore.

Gauntlet thrown. And accepted.

* * * *

Nathan stared at Avery that night, still pissed about Avery’s thoughtless comments earlier in the day. What kind of sexually repressed homophobe would spout shit about rimming and ass fucking to a gay man’s face? A man who wasn’t repressed or afraid of gays, apparently. It annoyed him all over again that he’d have to reclassify Avery. So much for thinking the guy had issues with sex. From what Avery had more than hinted, he liked fucking, and he especially liked ass play.

God, the images that called to mind were so wrong.

Nathan lusted after a straight guy with everything inside him, even knowing he’d get burned if he pursued him. How fucked up was that? He wanted to chalk up his weird desire and skewed emotions to the recent upheaval in his life, but he’d wanted Avery for far longer than that. At first Avery had been an attractive male. Eye candy. But as Nathan got to know him better, he’d become infatuated with the man. Seeing those unusual smiles, catching glimpses of the softer side Avery rarely showed his friends, taunted him to try to capture Avery’s attention.

I need to get laid. That’s all it is. A physical need
. He paused in reflection.
Yeah, right.

Hell, he had plenty of sex. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hug from someone he cared about. And not a friendly hug like those he shared with Ian or Kitty at work. But an affectionate caress from a lover instead of a quick handjob or blowjob in a bar.

Nathan reached for the last slice of pizza at the same time Avery did. Their hands touched, and he quickly pulled away, much to the amusement of Major Macho.

Avery raised his brow but said nothing, and Nathan internalized a groan. He had no idea why Avery’s arrogance turned him on so much.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?” Avery took a healthy bite of pizza and chewed, the powerful cords of his throat prominent. The navy cable-knit sweater he wore only added to his allure. The sweater clung to his chest while exposing his neck and the hint of his collarbone. Nathan wanted to eat him up.

Fuck. This is so wrong
. He shifted in his seat, hoping Avery wouldn’t notice his expanding crotch.

Then Avery had the nerve to offer him half of the last slice he’d claimed. Being nice, on top of being so damn sexy, was cheating big-time.

Nathan grudgingly accepted the piece and let out a breath. “So your room. You good?”

Avery shrugged. “It’s a room. About the same as yours.” Avery paused and studied Nathan. “You okay being here? I get the feeling growing up in this town wasn’t fun for you. That there’s more to your issues than your mom—uh, aunt’s—death.”

Nathan started. He’d been so consumed with Avery that he’d zoned out on being here, in this place. It all seemed so long ago, but though the memories had faded, they’d never truly left. The constant beatings, the mental abuse… He sometimes wondered how far his uncle might have gone if Nathan hadn’t made a stand. God knew, the punishments Malcolm had devised were anything but rational. He’d seemed to almost get off on the abuse.

“Nathan?” Avery’s soft voice pulled him back.

“You want to know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

It was the way he answered that made Nathan decide to tell him. Gone was the antagonistic, domineering ex-agent, and in his place, a caring, concerned Avery sat waiting. Yet another facet to the man that made him such an enigma.

“My uncle was a real bastard. From the time I lived here with him and my aunt until the day he died—supposedly died—he took great pleasure in screwing with me. Used to make fun of me and put me down all the time. But never in front of my aunt. He didn’t want her to know. In front of her, he was the doting dad. About two years after I came to live with them, he started beating me.”

Avery frowned. “Damn.”

“Yeah. He was a sick fuck.” He could still see Malcolm’s huge hand wrapped around the leather belt. Could feel it as it came down hard on his back. His uncle was so careful not to leave marks where they could be seen outside of his clothes. But Nathan had scars on his ass, the backs of his thighs, and the soles of his feet. And those were just physical. He dreaded facing the cellar and got cold sweats just thinking about it.

“So Jack filled me in some about your aunt,” Avery said. “After she left your uncle, you guys moved to California.”

“She left him because he was dead. Or so we thought.”

Avery didn’t blink, but Nathan could feel the man’s curiosity, and his support. “Sounds like maybe he deserved to die.”

“Better him than my aunt.”
My mother, who he finally tracked down and killed
. Nathan gritted his teeth.

“Time to finish the job, then.” Avery didn’t look too bothered at the thought of killing.

“You don’t have a problem with that?”

“I’m not a murderer, but I’m a firm believer in justice. Malcolm Dixon killed a woman you loved. From what you said, he almost killed her years ago. And beating on a kid, that’s just fucked up any way you look at it.”

“True.” Nathan felt lighter for having shared. Was it because he’d told the truth finally, or because he’d told Avery, and Avery was still on his side?

“The other thing we need to take a good, hard look at is Dixon’s past. The few files Jack has on him are sketchy, which leads me to believe your uncle is even more dangerous than we think.”

“Not sure that could be true. He’s a stone-cold killer.”

“One who has a weapon attracted to blood. Did you read the report on Espada de Sangre?”

Nathan cringed. “I did. The blade is supposedly cursed. Forged in the early 1800s in Spain, it found its way to America and has been used in the Civil War, the World Wars, and in bloody crime sprees all over the world.”

“It’s like the thing is a beacon for evil. How the hell did our client get his hands on it, I wonder?”

Nathan wondered too. “You know who this guy is we’re working for? Jack knows him, but I haven’t heard a thing about him.”

“All I know is that he has money and a warehouse of stolen goods we’re getting back for him one piece at a time. But Jack needs to look for more clients. You never put all your eggs in one basket if you’re smart.”

“Great advice. I can’t wait to be there when you share it with Jack.”

Avery grimaced. “I like my head where it is, thanks. Jack’s a decent boss, but he’s not great with people.”

“That’s Kitty’s job.” Their resident empath, Kitty kept the peace at the gym.

“And ours is to find this weapon.” Avery looked him in the eye. “We get the blade first. Then we deal with your uncle.”

“I’ll deal with him.”

“I said
we
. You’re too close to this. You’re hurting, and you’re distracted. He’ll kill you if you’re not careful.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Avery’s words stung, but Nathan conceded his point. “Fine. You’ll help me track him down, but I’m the one who’s going to end his time on this earth. A blade to the throat, a bullet to the brain. I don’t much care, as long as he’s dead.”

Avery stared at him.

“What?”

“You could do that? Just shoot him in cold blood?” He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.

“You don’t know Malcolm Dixon the way I do.” Nathan gave a bitter laugh. “No one ever gets the drop on him.
When
, not
if
, I kill him, it’ll be face-to-face in battle. Tell you what, though. To make you feel better, you can stand by in case I slip up. How does that sound?”

He fully expected Avery to agree with him, make some comment about Nathan’s failure to kill Malcolm the first time or poke fun at his ability to hold his own.

“I’ll back you up, Nathan. But I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Shocked and pleased, Nathan absently bit into the pizza Avery had given him and wondered what Aunt Danielle would have made of his partner. “My aunt would have liked you.”

Avery nodded. “You said she was a smart woman.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Are you ever not arrogant?”

“Nope. I’m in touch with myself and my strengths. I’m a likable guy. Not as charming as you, but I’m solid.”

Nathan turned the conversation in another direction. But while they argued about the coming football game on Sunday, he came to a decision long in the making. Before this case was through, he’d have Major Likable on his back and on his knees.
I promise.

And when Nathan made a promise, even to himself, he never went back on his word.

Chapter Three

Three days later, Avery lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. They’d made little headway talking to the neighbors. Most remembered Dixon as a pleasant if quiet man who was away as much as he’d been in town when he lived there. No one had seen him since. From what Jack had dug up on him, Dixon worked for the government in a contractual capacity, and his name had been flagged. So Jack was handing off the intel-gathering to a few friends who could pass undetected through official channels.

Just more bad news that Dixon would be a problem to handle. The blade being stolen was bad enough. The thing seemed to like sinking into human flesh, if the reports could be believed. Though Avery and his peers did things most people couldn’t fathom, an inanimate object acting as if it were alive was a hard concept to swallow.

He shifted in bed and linked his hands behind his head. He felt better today than he had yesterday. Though they were supposed to give the appearance of doing repairs, he’d actually fixed a set of stairs and patched some drywall to alleviate boredom. Hauling the equipment helped lessen the physical tension building as well, because he’d started to feel that familiar itch along the base of his spine, the one that told him if he didn’t start pushing his mind and body, he’d have problems. The daily runs weren’t doing it.

Though he didn’t regret joining the PWP, he did wish his withdrawal from the program hadn’t been so demanding. The drugs they’d given him while he’d been in had strengthened his abilities. He could now call on his prognostication, though he couldn’t predict what he’d see. Sometimes focusing on a particular object or person helped, and sometimes it didn’t. And what Avery saw always came to pass. He couldn’t change the future, or at least he hadn’t thus far, so he didn’t like looking there unless he needed to.

Fortunately his skills aided in his job. He normally caught glimpses of criminals, and depending upon the agent in question, he could often help their new cases. He’d seen a missing painting’s whereabouts not too long ago. Their agent had successfully brought it back intact and snagged himself a wife in the process.

He snorted. Wouldn’t that be a kicker? Major Avery Holton, psychic matchmaker? At the thought, he immediately imagined Nathan. The sandy-haired playboy seemed back to normal. Aggravating, appealing, and making a swath through the locals. He’d already had several women ask for his number, and he took great amusement and delight in telling Avery all about it.

Avery had matured past the point where boys kissed and told, and even at that young age, he’d never shared his personal life. He didn’t hide the fact that he liked men and women sexually, but he didn’t see the need to show it off either. Unlike Nathan, who had nothing better to do with this social life than parade an endless supply of pretty boys under Avery’s nose.

He scowled, remembering how each and every one of Nathan’s conquests had made him feel—annoyed, angry, possessive. The confusing need for Nathan made him want to go against his hard and fast rule of no fucking around with coworkers. Maybe if he’d gotten the man out of his system, he could react normally around him.

Then again, he and Nathan didn’t usually work together, not on PWP-type missions. The gym was different. Since he’d been put on the night shift, he and Nathan cleaned equipment, helped out gym-goers, and worked out themselves. Nathan had height and brawn but not a killer instinct. Oh, he boxed well enough, and he could wrestle with the best of them. But Avery instinctively knew best how to handle an opponent. With Nathan, he would muscle the big man down flat on his back. Then his fantasies intruded, and he’d see himself straddling Nathan’s face and shoving his cock in that warm, wet mouth.

Avery swore to himself and rolled onto his belly. His cock throbbed, and he wished he’d gotten off in the bars Nathan had frequented days ago. Maybe a handjob would have relieved this constant ache. For Nathan.

Avery groaned. He had a habit of being honest with himself. For months now, he’d been trying to convince himself to ignore the truth. He wanted Nathan more than was healthy. He still didn’t know if he liked the guy, but Jesus, he wanted to fuck that beautiful man. To feel Nathan’s firm ass glove his cock, to watch that talented mouth swallow him whole, suck on his balls, lick at his ass.

Without meaning to, he blanked out…into a vision.

“Dammit. Wake up.”

Still lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, Avery blinked into Nathan’s face. The low light in the hallway played over concerned green eyes and a mouth pinched with worry.