Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] (17 page)

“Something valuable?”

Joe’s eyes widened. “Oh, right. Yeah, Owen. Someone you care about. That’s actually a solid plan.”

Owen shook his head. “I’d never knowingly give a friend of mine to Kerr. And certainly not Heather or…oh
hell, no
.”
Ian
. So that’s who Tim had meant. Funny, because Owen had thought better of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, sir,” Tim protested. “It was Ian’s idea, and a good one.”

“
What
?”

Ian, naturally, had to stick his head in at that moment. “Problem?”

Owen glared at him with such violence, Ian took a step back. “You. Come with me.”

“Oh hell. Take five, guys,” Caleb said with a groan.

Owen dragged Ian with him down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. He needed privacy for this. After slamming the door behind them both and locking it, he turned to Ian. “What
the fuck
are you thinking?”

“Since I’m not sure what you’re talking about, you’ll have to be more specific. Because whenever I’m in here with you, I’m normally thinking about fucking.”

It took a lot to make Owen lose his temper, but thoughts of his precious thief in Kerr’s clutches made him see red.

“Owen, relax, man.” Ian took another step back, and Owen pounced. He dragged Ian to him and kissed him with anger and passion, too confused to know which made more sense. Hunger overwhelmed him, as did fear.

He drew back, panting. “You will
not
put yourself in harm’s way with Kerr. Promise me. He’ll kill you, Ian.”

Ian moaned and slaked his mouth back over Owen’s. “But it’ll help you get rid of him.”

“Not at your expense.” Owen needed to have him, to stake his claim. Spiraling out of control, he pushed Ian face-first against the door and yanked the man’s jeans open, then dragged them down his thighs. Unable to stop, he freed himself from his pants and spit on his hand, then rubbed his dick. “I can’t wait.”

“Oh shit. You are so hot when you’re like this,” Ian moaned.

Owen did his best to get slick, but he knew the taking would be rough. And he needed Ian to feel it. To feel
him
. Spitting some more, he lubed himself as best he was able and put his dick between Ian’s cheeks. He pushed, harder when Ian’s body resisted.

“Does it hurt? Do you like this pain?” he rasped, turned on by the primitive possession yet hating himself for doing this. “Do you know how bad Kerr will hurt you?”

“Fuck, Owen. Don’t stop. That is so good. Oh, it burns.” Ian moaned and rocked back against him, and then Owen was fucking him without cease.

Climbing higher toward climax, fulfilling his own desire and to hell with Ian’s. But he couldn’t stop himself. He hammered harder in Ian’s tight ass and reached around to find his lover hard and hot and dripping wet.

“You little slut.”

“Oh God. Please. Yes, Owen. Yes.”

Ian hissed as he came all over Owen’s hand, and Owen couldn’t stop. He made Ian beg him for more while he climaxed on a groan.

The orgasm relieved and enraged him, because he hadn’t solved a fucking thing by acting like a possessive asshole. They stood there, Owen buried to the hilt in his lover while Ian gasped underneath him, pressed to the door.

Owen hated to confess the truth like this, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I love you, Ian. No way in hell I’m going to let Kerr take you from me.” Still buried in his ass, he felt his lover tense and groaned at the gloving sensation still around his cock. “You mean too much to me.”

Ian swore. “Hell. You had to go and say it, didn’t you?”

“It’s the truth.”

“The truth is…
Fuck
. You don’t know the half of it.”

Ian squirmed beneath him, but if anything, his actions aroused Owen anew.

“Stop moving,” Owen warned. “I could too easily go again.”

“What are you, inhuman?” Ian rasped. “Fine. I’ll say it just like this, with your rod buried up my ass.”

Ian wiggled again, and Owen clamped his hands on his waist to hold him still.

“I’ve been trying to deny it, but you caught me. I don’t want to leave. I like the room you gave me. I like Bev and Dolly and even Tim. I think this house is wonderful, but it’s the tight group that gives it that down-home charm. Tacky but true. And you’re such an asshole.”

“Me?” Owen blinked at the dark head facing the wall, aware Ian refused to look at him. He also remained semihard inside him, unwilling to let go.

“You made me fall in love with you, okay? And now I can’t steal from you or try to rob you, because it feels wrong. And that sucks, because that’s what I do. So you say you trust me.”

“Oh, little thief, I do.” Owen felt tears burning behind his eyes, and he kissed Ian’s neck, so fucking happy to feel his boy trembling. This wasn’t some joke or a way to manipulate him. Not this. “You mean so much to me.”

“Then prove it.”

Ian gripped him tight again, clenching his ass.

“Let me target him for you. I’ll sucker him in, con him into taking me. Then you find me and take him out. I know you can do it, Owen. Let me do this for you. If we’re going to be partners, you have to let me in.”

Owen groaned and hugged Ian tighter. He started moving again, needing to fill his lover with himself all over again. “Ian, I can’t lose you. I just can’t.”

“You won’t. Trust me, baby.” Ian paused. “Trust me the way I trust you.”

After a moment, Owen caved. “You little shit. Fine.”

Ian’s laugh turned into a groan as Owen reached for him again.

“But first you owe me another orgasm. I want it all over the door this time. And you are in for a world of hurt if this goes south. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Owen swore when his cock hardened even more. “You owe me for this.”

“I owe you everything, Owen. Because I’m yours.”

“Yes, you are.” And then no more words were spoken, and the love flowed as free as their passion.

* * * *

“You do realize this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, right?” Jack asked as he stood with Owen and Caleb in a swanky penthouse in Portland. Except Jack wasn’t Jack, exactly. He looked like the spitting image of Heather, right down to the Stallbridge green eyes. Even the voice sounded the same. It was uncanny, and not a little bit freaky. And especially weird that only Owen knew Heather wasn’t Heather.

Jack/Heather continued, “I mean, I understand you wanting to kill Ian. But there are easier ways to do it than inviting Kerr into your bedroom.”

Owen glared at her—him. Hell. He did his best to keep Jack’s cover, because they all knew the penthouse had been bugged. That, and Jack didn’t tell just anyone that he could shift shapes. Talk about weird even on the psychic scale. “Just because you’re
my sister
doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you. In ways you can’t imagine.”

Caleb chuckled at the dark look Jack/Heather gave him. “He’s serious, honey. You have no idea what my boy can do.”

“Your boy is a real Fixer. Yeah, I know,” Jack/Heather said smoothly. With a good deal of respect too.

“Damn. Who the hell doesn’t know who you are?” Caleb bitched.

“Relax. It’s my job to know things.”

At Caleb’s surprised look, Jack/Heather smoothly amended, “Though my big brother doesn’t think I know what he’s done for our country, I do, and I’ve never told anyone.” Meaning Jack knew, but he’d never told Heather.

They stared at each other in silence before Caleb broke the tension. “If you two are gonna kiss and cry, could you do it now? I have things to do.”

“Fuck off, Caleb,” Owen said.

Jack/Heather snorted. “Oh, and by the way, I’m supposed to tell you that Gavin isn’t happy you’re in town, but his boyfriend said to say thanks. And be glad that one is on your side, ’cause he scrambles brains like Bev scrambles eggs.”

Good old Aiden Marshall.

“Nice to know.” Caleb grinned. “So is your boyfriend’s special team here to help? DC is pretty impressed. The last two jobs his guys worked went off without a hitch.”

Jack/Heather nodded. Owen knew Jack had begun doing select work he chose for the government, working closely with Admiral London, a man Owen greatly admired. “Yeah, well, as long as Lonnie is involved, Jack says he’s in. He’s the only government guy my wonderful fiancé will work for. Him or Alicia.” Admiral London’s wife, a woman not quite human.

Owen knew a lot about things he wasn’t cleared to know, and he had no plans on sharing. Though he trusted Caleb, the less Caleb knew about certain things, the better off he’d be. Owen and Jack shared the same thought, apparently, for Heather/Jack’s lips quirked in a grin.

Owen nodded. “Good old Alicia.”

Caleb frowned. “Isn’t she—”

Owen cut him off. “Could we
please
focus on the fact that my boyfriend is currently sitting on an island off the coast with Carl Kerr, who could be doing any manner of things to him?”
“While a dozen men are infiltrating the penthouse as we speak? To include a crazy pyrokinetic, I might add?”
he added telepathically.

Owen should have been more worried, but Caleb had assured him Ian was both annoying and healthy. Caleb kept in mental contact, constantly alerting Owen to any changes. This close, Owen could easily kill Kerr. If the bastard would show himself.

Earlier that morning, they’d staged their trip to Portland and had been deliberately separated so Kerr would find it easy to kidnap Ian. Meanwhile, the real Heather remained in Bend far away from Jack, secretly watched over by the PowerUp! team, while Jack, as Heather, pretended to be with Owen, where he could “keep an eye on her.” Personally, it all gave Owen a headache.

Yet it had worked. Ian had been kidnapped, and Owen, Caleb, and Jack/Heather waited in Owen’s penthouse for Kerr’s men to show. Kerr no doubt figured he could divide Owen’s attention by killing not only his lover, but his sister as well.

The smell of smoke filled the outside patio overlooking the Columbia River.

“Here we go,”
Owen telepathically said to Caleb. He nodded at Jack/Heather, who nodded back.

“I smell smoke. You two stay here while I check it out,” Caleb ordered and disappeared into the shadows.
“If I can take him out, let me. I need you able to focus once we lock on to Kerr.”

“Fine. But do it. I’m itching to act before this goes sour.”

“Relax. Ian is right now charming the pants off some dude named Neever. And…oh good. I think Kerr is finally showing himself. Ian said they entered the caretaker’s cottage on the island.”

Owen took a deep breath and let it out. Time to play his part. “Heather, honey, we need to get out of here. I smell smoke.”

Jack/Heather hugged his arm. “Owen, hurry. I smell it too. The penthouse is on fire!”

The lights went out. Before the explosion Owen had been waiting for, screams sounded. Cries of pain from men Caleb had gutted. Then all sound ceased. Owen had a gun by his side, ready to fire. He and Jack/Heather took cover behind a large couch directly inside the open patio doors. Then Jack/Heather left him to put a hurt on their adversaries. Though Owen couldn’t see what happened next, Caleb gave him a play-by-play, his night-vision goggles a good forethought.

“Yeah. Six of them are down. Jack’s guy Price is slamming them around like toy blocks. Ouch. Another went out.”
Keegan Price, Jack’s telekinetic and his cousin’s husband, could crush a car with a thought. Apparently skeletal systems and major organs were nothing compared to a ton of steel.

“Come on, motherfuckers. Put up a fight.” Price’s deep Texan drawl sounded from Owen’s direct right.

He felt movement by his side and stood, coming face-to-face with Mickelson. Uh-oh.

“Well, well. My old buddy, Owen Stallbridge. I heard you’d retired, man.” Mickelson smiled, and his eyes glowed as pinpoints of red flame danced in his hands.

Not good. Owen thought they’d already taken care of him. And then the heat started, and his flesh felt way, way too hot.

* * * *

Ian had no idea why the chatty guy next to him didn’t blow his own brains out. Annoying, yet easy to manage. Like so many others, he bought Ian’s queen-of-the-keep routine.

“Yeah, boss is going to drill you good,
boyfriend
.” The talkative Neever chuckled. “He likes ’em pretty. And while he’s doing you, you’ll be on a live feed, so Stallbridge can watch you raped to death. It’s ugly, sure, but the boss is a master at making the pain last.”

“Ew. Hello? Pretty man, sitting right here. No need for your boss to kill me. I can make him happy, I just know it.”

Neever snorted and dragged him from a limo into a sunny cottage on a private island off the coast.

Ian contained a huff. He would have been terrified if he hadn’t agreed to do this. And if he hadn’t had that idiot Dalton in his brain at all times.

“I heard that,”
Dalton answered in his mind.
“Now quit being afraid, princess. Your buddy Keegan is wiping up the place with a huge-ass body count. And Heather is kicking serious ass, but in a pretty way. Man, no wonder Keiser put a ring on her. Nice roundhouse.”

“What?”

“Just focus on what’s happening around you. Soon as you see Kerr, you ping me. Shout, yell, get my attention pronto. Owen will do the rest.”

Ian mentally nodded. As much as he didn’t want Owen to have to kill Kerr, he knew Owen needed the closure and Kerr had to go. So Ian would do what he had to do to help.
“You sure Owen’s okay? Dalton? Dalton?”

Great. The prick decided to go silent. Whatever.

Ian let Neever walk him into the cottage and took an immediate inventory. He cataloged the array of weapons stashed around what appeared to be a hunting cottage. Ian didn’t care to think about what they’d hunted out here. Knowing Kerr, probably people.

He followed Neever into a comfortable den. A huge sectional sofa in deep red was currently occupied by three young, naked men wearing collars affixed to chains on the floor. They lazed in wait, seeming not at all bothered by his presence.

“Stay.” Neever shook his finger at Ian before leaving him alone with the trio.