2-Bound By Law (8 page)

With all of them, Law would hate him, because it meant leaving again.

When the sun came up, Tomcat texted him that the safe house was all set, that he’d meet them there with the necessary supplies and to haul ass before the storm came. That a truck had been dropped off in the back lot for him, which Styx already had a key to.

March snow wasn’t unheard of in upstate New York, which was where they were now headed, but this had been one of the worst winters on record. So he knocked on the door and got Law and Paulo moving. Styx pulled the truck around for them and they picked up breakfast along the way.

All in all, it was an eight-hour drive that was mostly silent. Paulo crawled into the back to sleep, leaving Styx to wonder if Law had fucked him all night or if he’d slept through.

He’d bet sleep, though, because from what he’d witnessed, Paulo wasn’t quiet and damn, it had been something…and he should be jealous but he wasn’t, not really, and he wondered why.

He was intrigued by Paulo, by Law’s reaction to him and by his own.

But by the morning, the lust had dissipated and the heavy cloak of reality shrouded everything. This wasn’t about a single night of confessions and fights and sex… This had implications that could last each of them a lifetime, and the blame weighed on Styx heavily.

“We’re here,” Styx said quietly, and Law shook Paulo awake. He parked next to Tomcat’s truck and the men all got out and stretched.

“All clear?” Styx asked Tomcat, who nodded. Styx handed Law the keys and he and Paulo headed inside while Styx waited to talk with his partner.

In his truck, the man had clothes for all the men, plus food and other supplies, like gas for the truck and the generator. And shovels, because the snow was expected to come down like a motherfucker, land-locking them here for a couple of days. It would ensure no one could get to them…although Styx still had his doubts about that.

Tomcat caught a look at Styx’s bruised cheek, courtesy of Law last night. “Looks like you told him everything.”

Styx ignored him in favor of unpacking the boxes from the back.

They’d used this place before, but Styx had always been the one dropping people off here, and although he welcomed the time with Law, these weren’t the most ideal circumstances.

“They broke into Paulo’s apartment. Law’s too but not Damon’s,” Tomcat confirmed when Styx returned from his second trip into the house.

Styx cursed and punched the hood of the truck lightly a few times with the side of his closed fist.

“I checked the intel on Damon—he’s away for two weeks with Tanner James,” Tomcat continued.

The only bright spot in all of this. Law had mentioned their trip to Europe and Styx had asked Tomcat to run it, just to be sure.

“The cop’s good,” Tomcat said, and Styx narrowed his eyes. Because Tomcat never complimented anyone—and not like that. Especially not cops. “What? I’m stating a truth.”

“Forget it,” he muttered, didn’t want Paulo to be good at anything, but he was. Most obviously, he was good at making Law happy and how could Styx bitch about that? It was what he’d always wanted—Law to be happy.

“Hey, it could be a lot worse you were stuck with—you’ve got a detective and an ex-Delta.”

Styx just shook his head. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“For some men, maybe. But you’ve got two men and nothing to do but—”

“Not get killed?”

“You know I get the seriousness of the sitch, man, but you’ve been mooning over Law for a hell of a long time.”

“Helluva way to win him back.”

“How do you know you ever lost him?”

“You met Paulo, right? The good one?”

Tomcat shrugged. “Law looks like he can handle an angel and a devil.”

“You’re impossible.”

“We’re going to catch the fucker.” Tomcat could turn fierce in the space of an instant, and Styx knew his partner always had his back.

“I wish I could be as sure as you.”

“Happened once. No one’s that good for that long.”

“I want you to be right.”

“Take the next forty-eight to get your shit together. We’ll work the rest out after that.”

Tomcat was right. Leaving Law again right now would be stupid as hell. Styx knew he was literally down to his last chance and he’d be damned if he fucked it all up again.

“You’re safe here for now,” Tomcat said. “Besides, you said you wanted to take care of this part personally, let your friend know his options. Do that and then come back and we’ll get the bastard.”

Tomcat was right, reminded him as to why they’d tailed Law to the restaurant to begin with. Why Styx had spent the morning waiting for Law to exit Paulo’s wearing the same clothing as the night before, slightly askew.

When he’d first met Tomcat, Styx knew him as Clint. Clint Sommers, who was a year older than Styx was and who’d gotten into the CIA because they’d taken note of his computer hacking abilities. Turned out, he was also damned good at playing secret agent and especially undercover work. Despite his height, he could camouflage himself into just about any role—his current one as part of a motorcycle gang necessitated the name Tomcat, and he’d spend over a year undercover. But he refused to stop helping Styx once his father escaped, and so now he was working both jobs simultaneously.

Disappearing from a motorcycle gang here and there wasn’t too much of an issue, so he was lucky.

“I’m glad you’re in on this,” Styx told him now.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After Tomcat helped him bring in the last of the boxes, Styx walked him out and watched his truck take off—he wouldn’t go too far—someplace he could get a chopper to help Styx if need be. And then he stayed outside for a while, needing the space from the situation—wanted the fresh air to clear his head, to figure out what the hell he was going to present as options to the two men inside. After Tomcat’s truck disappeared, he walked the perimeter of the house, checking things out, and then spent a few minutes looking up at the gray sky.

But the memories were coming back to him too fast out here—worse than they had last night and all the nights before these past three months since he’d actually laid eyes on Law again.

Having no memories before the age of sixteen was frightening—a big, black hole he couldn’t dwell on without freaking out. And not much freaked him out. Being in the CIA since he’d turned himself in at twenty-one had really sucked most of that out of him.

But those first moments of remembering were like being born again—painful and necessary.

He’d been sixteen years old, and he’d woken up on a Central Park bench with blood on his shirt. Not a lot and it wasn’t his, but he shed it immediately, sat there and panicked because he didn’t know what the hell to do next. Didn’t know who he was, where he’d come from, and so he walked a few blocks bare-chested, despite the cold temperatures. Met up with a guy who wanted to party with him and ended up in Greg’s club purely by happenstance.

According to Greg, nothing was ever coincidence—it was all fate, and Styx had wanted to call that theory crap but he couldn’t.

Greg had brought him home—he’d wondered if something weird was going to happen, but he’d been too tired and scared to care. He’d showered and slept and no one bothered him—and when he woke, he stumbled on Law.

Jesus, that boy, nearly a man like Styx, hovering on that precipice, took his breath away. Blond, blue eyes, a wary, who-the-fuck-are-you look in his eyes.

Definitely love at first sight for him. For Law, too, even though it took the bastard a while to admit it.

He felt as nervous as he did that morning but he refused to put it off any longer—went back inside and began to unpack the boxes, dealing with the food first.

The house had three bedrooms and baths upstairs. Downstairs housed an eat-in kitchen and a good-sized living room and smaller den, all furnished courtesy of the CIA and actually better than most. But it wouldn’t be big enough for the three of them—he wasn’t sure any place would be big enough for that dynamic.

He shoved the last of the food in the fridge and turned to see Law and Paulo standing there. They’d been in the living room for a while, probably talking about what to say to him, as evidenced by the way Paulo started in immediately.

“How long are we here for?” he asked.

“A few days—through the snow.” He dug into his pocket and handed Paulo a throwaway phone Tomcat had packed, as promised. “Call your boss, get the time off. Don’t tell them what’s happening.”

Paulo nodded, took the phone and went into the next room while Styx continued to unpack. “There are clothes here for all of us. Sneakers and boots, too.”

Law didn’t say anything, continued to watch him carefully, but the wary truce from the night before was giving way.

Styx tried to ward it off at the pass. “What do you want me to say, man? I’m sorry. I’m sorry as hell—I stayed away for what seemed like forever to avoid this, Law. If I could take it back, I would.” Dammit, his voice broke and he turned away.

“What’s the plan? Tell us about witness protection and then you run free, trying to take down your father? Because that’s bullshit and it’ll just keep you running, the same way you’ve been. You’ll just be going in a different direction,” Law told him.

He should’ve known Law would be a step ahead of him—and completely fucking right. “It’s the best thing for you and Paulo.”

“Fuck you and your knowing what’s best for us,” Law spat.

“Cut him a break, Law.”

Paulo’s voice. He’d obviously caught most of the conversation, tossed Styx back the phone with a nod before Law turned to Paulo. “You know nothing about this.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve got a pretty good idea about what’s happening between you two.” Paulo’s eyes flashed. “He cares about you, and you’ve gotten really good at pushing people who care about you away.”

“Now you’re on his side?”

“It’s not his fault. Not really.”

Law sagged against the fridge, ran his hands through his hair. “Dammit, you don’t know.”

“I know you two have a connection. I know you grew up together. I know a hell of a lot more than you think.”

At Paulo’s words, Law stiffened, and Styx realized that the real battle had just begun.

Paulo couldn’t stand to watch the two men rip each other to shreds, not when they’d just ended up together again after all these years.

Styx was Law’s first love. After everything Paulo had discovered about Law, he knew that the man deserved all the happiness in the world.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Law asked, his voice dangerous, but Paulo never let that shit get to him. It might turn him on, but intimidate him? No goddamned way.

He started again, “After all you’ve been through…” but Law interrupted him abruptly.

“You’re not just talking about what happened at Crave, are you?”

Put-up or shut-up time. “No, I’m not. I know. About you.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

“Your medical records…from when you were younger.” Paulo glanced at Styx, whose expression had gone hard again and he wondered if both men were going to attempt to kick his ass for this.

“Aren’t there laws that keep you from invading my personal medical history—my CPS records?” Law demanded, and yes, Paulo had bypassed those quite nicely.

Yeah, this was bad. All he could do was nod.

“And you thought my past was your business?” Law continued.

“I still do.”

“Dammit, Paulo.” Law turned, stayed with his back to both him and Styx for a very long while and time was suspended, their relationship—what little there had been—hanging in the balance. The tension was palpable. But Paulo had always known he’d be the one to bring this up with Law. Law would never be the one to tell him that information, no matter how long they’d stay together.

“I’m sorry. I wanted you to tell me…but I knew you wouldn’t,” Paulo said finally.

“Right, because it was fucking private,” Law spat.

“I’m tired of secrets,” Paulo said. “I’m tired of keeping them—of having them kept from me.”

“So this is payback? Because you had this information long before I asked you about your past last night.”

“No, it’s about getting the goddamned truth out. I have to be able to trust both of you if my ass is on the line. I need to know every fucking thing.”

Styx was watching both of them quietly. He’d have to be a fool to get in the middle of this, and if Paulo learned anything after twenty-four hours with the man, he knew Styx was anything but.

Still, Paulo was surprised Styx didn’t grab him by the throat for pissing Law off, for spilling his private life out like that.

Then again, Styx was surprising Paulo in a lot of ways.

“You—” Law pointed to Paulo, “—and you.” This time, his attention turned to Styx. “Both of you and your secrets can go fuck yourselves. I’m done with this.”

“You can’t just walk out,” Paulo said.

“Watch me.” Law turned then, grabbed one of the guns off the kitchen table and left the house, slamming out the front door.

It was more to prove his point—he wasn’t going far in this storm, but still, “Get him,” Paulo told Styx.

“He’s too pissed.” Styx stared out the window, watching Law walk toward the back of the house. “Besides, we’re in the middle of bumblefuck—it’s one of the benefits.”

Paulo walked into the living room, slumped onto the couch, and Styx moved to the kitchen doorway. “I shouldn’t have pried into his records. Are you going to tell me what an asshole I am?”

Styx’s next words surprised the hell out of him. “No. Because I did the same thing.”

Chapter Six

Law couldn’t remember being more fucking furious with someone since…fuck, since Styx and his nosing around. Goddammit, the two assholes inside were perfect for one another. And they were welcome to each other, because Law didn’t want either of them.

Although that was a big fucking lie. He sat on the stone wall that ran the entire length of the back of the house and faced the woods, letting the first flakes of the storm float past him.

He’d always loved the snow—everything was quiet and calm and he could think. But today there would be too much time to do so, and his bones ached in anticipation of the storm.