The Broken Triangle
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Loose Id Titles by Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
THE BROKEN TRIANGLE
Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
www.loose-id.com
The Broken Triangle
Copyright © July 2013 by Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eISBN 9781623003869
Editor: Serena Stokes
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
PO Box 809
San Francisco CA 94104-0809
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * *
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
Vin shrugged out of his jacket and winced as the collar caught his freshly pierced earlobe. He muttered some choice curse words under his breath and shoved his jacket into his locker, then swore some more in his mother’s native Mexican when one of his textbooks fell out onto the floor.
“Jesus, Parker, weren’t you born here? Can’t you swear in fucking English like the rest of us?”
The jeering note underlying the words robbed them of any humor. Not that they would’ve been funny said in a friendly tone.
Vin picked up the book, put it back in his locker, closed the door, then turned slowly, unwilling to back down but hoping by the time he’d tidied up, Gary Brookes would’ve moved on. The guy had the attention span of a toddler, after all, and the sulky pout to match when he was thwarted.
“Yeah, I was born here. Doesn’t mean I need to limit myself when it comes to expressing my emotions.”
“Huh?”
Vin bit back a sigh. “I can swear in two languages.”
And B comes after A, and two plus two is… Oh, never mind. That’s always going to be too advanced for you.
“That’s the fucking problem, dumbass.” Gary rolled his eyes and exchanged a weary look with the boy beside him, a sharp-featured suck-up with a gaze that never settled, making Vin want to glance over his shoulder to see what Jason was staring at. “How does someone this retarded get to go to school with the normal people?”
Vin was never going to make the honor roll. He was bright enough; he just wasn’t interested in following the instructions on every report card he’d ever gotten and applying himself to subjects that seemed pointless. Math appealed to him, its patterns and structure striking a chord, but one good grade wasn’t enough to pull up his average.
He wasn’t failing the way Gary was, though.
“English should be good enough for you,” Gary continued. “If it isn’t, you and your greaser family should slide back over the border,
comprende?
But I’m a nice guy. I don’t mind helping you out. Want some tutoring?”
Asshole. “Not really, and I’m late for class. See you around.” He tried to edge past Gary’s not inconsiderable bulk. It wasn’t easy. The muscles and large frame that had gotten Gary a place on the school football team, lost after he missed too many practices, allowed him to block Vin’s way.
“You’ve got time for this.” Gary slammed his hand against Vin’s shoulder, driving him into the unforgiving metal of his locker. “Repeat after me. I’m a stupid fucking Mex with stupid fucking hair and a gay-ass earring in my fucking ear.”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘stupid fucking ear’? You know what Mrs. McKulsky always says about keeping a consistent internal rhythm in a sentence.”
Gary grabbed Vin’s shoulders and forced him back against the locker again; Vin’s head ached from the impact and the echoing clang of metal. “Shut up!”
“Which is it?” Vin asked, and Gary, confused, paused.
“What?”
“You told me to repeat after you. Then you told me to shut up. Make up your mind.”
Vin knew he was asking for it. He might end up with a broken nose, but sometimes his mouth got the better of him. Gary raised a fist, and Vin’s eyes closed involuntarily as he waited for the blow.
It didn’t come. Instead, the hand pinning him to the lockers pulled away. Vin opened his eyes to see Gary being shoved—not hard, more like the kind of shove friends gave each other when they were horsing around—by Riley Wells.
Vin had dreamed about being the one to save Riley from danger, or hell, even a mildly awkward situation like not having enough cash to pay for his lunch. He was going to rethink the scenario next time. Being on the receiving end of a rescue wasn’t much fun. He was glad not to be bruised or bleeding, but this was humiliating.
Riley’s golden-boy good looks weren’t dimmed by his frown, but displeasure and the loss of his usual easy smile made him look older. “You trying to get suspended again, Gary? Because there’re easier ways.”
“I’m trying to beat some English into Parker’s thick skull.”
Riley’s gaze went to Vin, who jerked his chin up, meeting it squarely and ignoring his physical reaction to Riley standing this close. Hyped up on adrenaline and anger, it wasn’t easy. His face was flushed, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants. He wanted to do some grabbing of his own, but it was Riley—always, only Riley—he needed to touch.
He’d stopped calling it a crush a year ago. Crushes faded. Every day he fell deeper in love with Riley, a helpless adoration mixed with a more prosaic lust. Why Riley checked all the boxes for him, Vin didn’t know. At sixteen, self-analysis wasn’t high on his list of favorite things to do. Self-abuse, yes. He jerked off a lot—who didn’t?—though he felt vaguely guilty when he included Riley in his more lurid fantasies.
“Vin speaks English just fine,” Riley said, never looking away from Vin, his body angled, blocking Gary’s view of his victim. Out of sight, out of mind, with any luck.
The bell rang, and Riley gave Gary another friendly shove. Weird how he could combine the disapproval on his face with seeming like he wasn’t mad at Gary, which Vin thought he was.
“You’d better get out of here,” Riley told Gary. “You know Mrs. Billings checks all the hallways, and if she catches you, you’re in trouble.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m outta here.” Gary shifted to the side, glared at Vin like he was responsible for every bad thing that had ever happened to him in his life, and took off with his shadow Jason trailing behind him.
“You okay?” Riley asked.
Vin shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. I don’t think he’s clued in on the fact that I’m gay, so he only has me being half-Mexican to aim at.”
Riley scrunched up his nose. “Uh, he knows. You don’t go out of your way to hide it. Not that you should, but some people would, I guess. He might not like it, but he’s not gonna give you grief over that.”
The idea that Gary had standards of decency was as hard for Vin to wrap his head around as bacon cupcakes. It wasn’t like the guy batted for Vin’s team. Vin’s gaydar was rudimentary. He’d been hit on a couple of times and been oblivious until it’d been pointed out to him by one of his girlfriends. Even so, he was certain Gary was into girls and only girls.
“So what’s holding him back?”
“School policy, for one.” Their high school had a zero-tolerance rule in effect for bullying—not that it did much to stop people like Gary, who timed their attacks carefully—but the GSA at Weston High was militant, and Vin had never felt targeted because of his orientation. He knew from friends at other schools that he was lucky.
“Sure, but guys like him don’t think the rules apply to them.”
“No, but his sister’s out and proud, and she’d slap him silly if she found out he was hassling a kid for being gay.”
Vin shook his head, disgusted by the idea of someone giving him a hard time who had to know being different made for difficulties. “So he’s racist but not homophobic? Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”
“It shouldn’t. He’s a jerk, and he gets away with shit because he’s intimidating.” Riley raised his hand as if he wanted to touch Vin’s arm, but let it drop before any contact had been made. “I’ll talk to him. Tell him to back off. He’ll listen to me.”
“Why?” Vin asked bluntly.
Riley gave him a sunshine-bright smile that made Vin’s chest feel tight with longing. “He might be bigger than me, but I’ve known him since we were kids. I’ve got all the good dirt on him.”
“He wet his pants in kindergarten? Cried when his teddy bear’s ear got torn off?”
Riley’s grin got wider. “I’ll never tell—if he behaves. Hey, shouldn’t we be someplace else? Like in class?”
“Shit, yes.”
Vin turned to go but paused when Riley said softly, “Cool earring.”
He reached up to touch it, his heart hammering. He should say something. Push for more than the casual interactions they’d shared now and then, but Riley was already walking away. If he heard the croaked-out “Thanks” from Vin, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“Vin, can you give these to Shelly?” Dave held out a basket of fries as Vin walked by the kitchen door, and Vin took them automatically.
“Yeah, sure. Just this?” French fries on their own weren’t an uncommon request—people who came to the Square Peg were usually more interested in a snack to go along with a few drinks than an actual meal—but Vin didn’t want to deliver half an order.
“Uh-huh. Thanks. Busy night!” Dave stepped back into the kitchen, humming tunelessly the way he did when he was happy.
The smell of fried food was making Vin hungry. He was used to his new work schedule, but his meal schedule was another story. Some nights he didn’t have dinner until after last orders, his blood sugar so low that his hands would shake as he lifted the first bite to his mouth. That was an indication of the bar’s success since it’d reopened six weeks before, with Vin moving into Shane’s apartment above the bar to keep an eye on things. The renovations following the fire had gone as smoothly as anyone could’ve asked, but the months when it’d been closed had been hard on everyone. It was good to be back to normal.
