Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] (13 page)

“What? What does that mean?”

“Well, what better way to get at someone’s vulnerabilities than take away that which matters most?”

Ian frowned. “Heather’s got Jack.”

“No, you.”

Ian scoffed. “Hey, I know I’m the flavor of the month. No need to rub it in with sarcasm.”

“Ian, Owen
never
brings anyone here. Even before I joined on, I knew that this place was off-limits for everyone not in his private circle. Ask the guys. You’re the first new person, other than Jack, Keegan, and James, to visit. And that’s only because the guys are with Heather or Rory, Owen’s relatives. Sorry, dude, you’re the real deal.” Tim leaned closer, his gaze serious. “Don’t fuck with him, because he’s not fucking with you.”

“Sure he is,” Ian tried to joke, but Tim shook his head.

“No. I watched him this past month, working next to you. He’s different with you, and you know it.”

“Bullshit. The man is Midas rich. He can have anyone he wants. I’m just entertainment while he’s slumming in Bend.” Ian waited for Tim to confirm the truth.

Instead, Tim surprised him by laughing. “Yeah, you keep thinking that. Tell you what, fifty bucks says you’re living here full-time by October.”

In a month and a half, Ian would be back in his condo overlooking the Deschutes River and dreaming of ways to scheme a path to his nest egg. Once he had enough, then he might decide to move on. Maybe. “Make it five hundred. Why not? Every little bit helps.”

They shook hands, and Ian tried to ignore Tim’s amusement. “Who knew you big guys were so funny?”

Tim chuckled. “Whatever, shorty. Come on. I need to get back inside, and that means you need to head in.” His smile faded. “I have to talk to Joe and Reuben about the boss.”

Ian didn’t argue, even though he’d prefer to sit outside. He decided to ready Owen’s room for his return, trying not to think about Owen’s injuries. Instead, he dwelled on how best to blow Owen’s mind with the games they’d play. Yeah. It would be all about
Owen’s
pleasure. And then once the bossy man regained his own two feet, the gloves would come off, and Ian would do his best to fleece his lover but good.

* * * *

Later that evening, the car pulled up, and Dolly, Bev, Joe, Reuben, Tim, and Ian waited anxiously by the large bay window in the living room.

When the door opened, Dalton exited the driver side. He didn’t look too beaten up. A few bruises, but no limps or disfigurement that Ian could see. Too bad about that. The guy could have used a swift kick in the ass. Then he helped Owen out of the car.

“Holy shit,” Reuben swore. “Er, I mean, shoot.” He cast a side look at Dolly and Bev.

Bev had tears in her eyes. “Oh my. I’ll go get his favorite sticky buns all warmed up for him.”

Dolly nodded. “I’ll check the room one more time. Ian, keep him busy for a few minutes, would you? I just want to make sure everything’s all tidied for him.”

“Sure, Dolly.”

Tim frowned. “He looks drugged. Why is Caleb not propping him up better?” Tim swore under his breath and hustled out of the living room and down the hall.

Ian heard the door open but forced himself to remain standing there, not wanting to appear too eager to see his lover—his boyfriend—again.

Joe and Reuben turned as one when Dalton preceded Tim, who was helping Owen into the living room.

“Hey, guys. We’re back,” Dalton announced. “I have some things to talk to you about. Didn’t want to go over it until we were in person.”

“No problem,” Reuben agreed. “Why don’t we get you something to eat while Joe heads back to security? I’ll fill you in,” he said to his brother.

“No. I want to talk to both of you together.” Dalton frowned. He saw Ian, and his frown lessened. “Hey, keep Mr. Nosy occupied, would you?”

“Right here, asshole,” Owen slurred from under Tim’s long arm.

“Yeah, I get that,” Dalton snorted. But his gaze said something else to Ian. He glared at Owen again. “Look, I don’t have time to hold your hand with this.”

“Hey, back off,” Ian growled. “He’s hurt.”

“You’d think so, with the way he’s limping and all,” Dalton drawled, “but he won’t stop issuing orders. I can handle the security with the Knoxes. Ian, if you could deal with Owen? Hey, Tim, put him in bed, would you?”

“Dick.” Owen yawned.

He looked bruised, tired, and incredibly appealing. Ian had never seen Owen appear anything less than perfect. Even first thing in the morning, he had a dewy-eyed sexuality that screamed “lovemaking at its finest.” Yet now he seemed vulnerable, and Ian finally felt on equal footing with the larger-than-life playboy.

“Yeah, Tim. Could you carry His Highness into the bedroom? I want to talk to you, Owen.” He tried to pretend to be a little mean, but inside he quavered.
God, the guy is half falling down, and I want him. I want to…hold him
. Too weird. Yet Ian felt the rightness of that closeness. A scary pattern that followed what his fellow PowerUp! team members seemed to feel for their significant others.

He wondered as he followed Tim and Owen to the master bedroom if that meant he was falling in love with Owen. “You might want to carry him up the stairs,” Ian suggested.

Tim immediately, carefully, lifted Owen into his arms.

“For God’s sake, Tim. You don’t have to carry me.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim continued to carry Owen up the stairs, his pace slow so as not to open the bandaged wound on Owen’s upper thigh.

Good man
. In Tim’s strong arms, Owen almost looked helpless. Almost. The glare he shot Ian over Tim’s shoulder indicated the man was far from powerless.

“Put him in bed, Tim,” Ian directed once they entered the room.

Dolly had put fresh flowers and silky sheets on the bed. The room smelled wonderfully like Owen’s scent, and Ian made a note to tell her how much Owen had appreciated her efforts.

“Tim, I’m fine,” Owen protested.

“Yes, sir.”

Tim continued to yes him to death while following Ian’s orders. Ian loved it. “Awesome. Can you shut the door on your way out?”

Tim nodded. He winked at Ian before nodding to Owen. “Good to have you back, sir.”

Owen blew out a frustrated breath, and Tim grinned. Then Tim turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Ian and Owen stared at each other in silence until Owen shook his head.

“Damn, you’re fine. Even when you’re bossing Tim around.”

Ian laughed, but inside he worried over the glazed look in Owen’s eyes. “Hey, you said I was in charge while you were gone. Everyone’s safe, the place is a fortress—a clean fortress, thanks to Dolly—and everything’s good.” He approached and carefully sat by Owen’s side. “How did things go?”

Owen frowned. He leaned against the pillows stacked behind him. “Okay.”

Ian had a million questions, but he wanted to ease Owen first. The man looked too tired for anything sexual, but perhaps Ian could help him relax. He moved some pillows out of the way and scooted behind Owen, so that Owen rested against him.

“What are you doing?” came out slurred.

Ian shushed him. “Shut up and relax.”

Owen chuckled, then moaned when Ian began massaging his stiff shoulders. Ian told him all that had happened in his absence, to include the various art pieces Ian planned to copy and sell that he’d found in Owen’s supposedly secure vault. Dolly and Reuben’s growing love, the attraction Tim fought having for Joe. Bev’s traitorous falling into Ian’s camp, because Ian was so much prettier than Owen.

All the while, he continued to work through the tight muscles in Owen’s shoulders and back. His neck, his scalp. Before long, Owen’s head lolled against Ian’s chest.

“Missed you,” Owen murmured before his breathing evened.

Ian slowly withdrew from his place and settled Owen down onto his pillows. He didn’t want to jostle him, so he found a blanket in the chest at the foot of the bed and covered his tired, sexy lover.

As he watched Owen’s lips part and his chest rise and fall in even motion, Ian’s own chest felt surprisingly tight. What would it be like to truly be here with Owen all the time? To be a real boyfriend, one who spent quality time with his lover, surrounded by
their
friends and
their
people? A family where it counted, spun off the love two men shared for each other?

When Owen frowned and shook his head, Ian joined him on the bed and stroked his hair. “Shh. It’s okay, Owen. I’m right here. Right here with you.”

Owen’s soft sigh made everything right in the world, and Ian wondered who was suckering whom. Because what sane person would believe a hot multimillionaire would ever fall for a con man from the wrong side of the tracks, one who was falling in love for the first time in his short but eventful life?

Chapter Nine

Owen woke to a warm body pressed against his. He shifted and stifled a curse.
Damn
. His leg hurt. But seeing thick lashes drawn in sleep, feeling the warmth of Ian pressed close to his side, made the pain worth it.

He stared down at the boyishly mischievous face, even in sleep, and smiled. The fear that DeSanta was still somehow with him faded as he studied Ian. From what he knew of his thief’s past—which wasn’t much—Ian Ryder was thirty-one years old. Born a Scorpio, with natural blue eyes and black hair, no discernible birthmarks, scars, or tattoos, and he had no surviving relatives. His mother had passed away a few years after his birth, and he’d never known his father.

The Social Security number he’d fed the government over a decade ago matched a boy of that description, but Owen knew better than to think Ian Ryder was actually Ian Ryder.

His little thief had over a dozen aliases, some he still used. He’d been a huge asset to the PowerUp! team since joining Jack’s group a year ago, but he’d never had his talents manipulated by the PWP. He’d been born with his gifts and had left the program with them intact. His supposed crimes had been manufactured by some unscrupulous people no longer in Washington—or alive—to verify their claims. But if there was one thing Owen knew about Ian, for all his shifty ways, he could be counted on to do the right thing. All those he’d allegedly stolen from had been dark, with pasts more criminal than anything Ian had ever done. Ian had a Robin Hood complex for sure.

Which made it vital that Owen get Ian to see him as more than his rich employer, but as a man, as his lover. A
boyfriend
, he thought with amusement. Their first month together, truly together, had been spent with Owen enduring Ian’s snipes and challenges, meeting the man each time. Now that their relationship had turned into something more meaningful—and yes, sexual—Owen was determined to make Ian see how wonderful life could be together. And not just as someone to buy him things, but because they complemented one another.

Ian was type A, always busy. Owen could relax. Ian needed attention, Owen had plenty to give. He was a one-man lover, and he liked that Ian was the same. Sure, Ian kept him on his toes. Trying to keep the thief out of trouble would be a full-time job, but Owen wanted it, badly. With Heather under Jack’s protection, Owen knew an emptiness, now that she no longer belonged at his side but by her fiancé’s. But with Ian, he didn’t feel so alone. With Ian he’d found someone he could love, who needed him more than he knew.

Ian blinked up at him on a yawn. Those eyes hazy with sleep brightened considerably when he saw Owen watching him.

“You look better.”

He felt better. Owen smiled. “So, have you been as big a pain as I’ve heard? Do I have to bribe Tim to stay on?”

Ian smirked, and Owen’s heart thumped painfully hard. He loved that look on his lover’s face, that smug innocence that shouldn’t have worked on him but did. Ian was a scammer, but such a handsome one. His bangs fell over one eye, and Owen pushed them back, absorbed with Ian’s silky skin.

“Tim is all mine now. You’ll notice he carried you at my order.”

Owen pretended sadness. “Then I guess I’ll have to let him go. If I can’t trust him, I—” Ian’s alarm nearly made him laugh out loud.

“No, no,” Ian refuted. “I was just kidding. Tim’s yours, seriously. He only does what he thinks is best for you. And since I’m your boyfriend—you know, the one taking care of you—he thought you’d be best with me. Here, resting in bed.”

“Resting, hmm? I don’t feel well rested.” Actually, he had to use the bathroom, but if he got out of bed and crumbled, he’d look less than imposing.

Ian glanced past him to the clock. “It’s nearly midnight. I guess we missed dinner.”

“You hungry?”

“No. You?”

Owen shook his head. Not hungry for food.

Ian decided for him. “You should eat. Come on, I’ll help you.” He leaned closer, then stopped. “First, a shower.”

“I, ah. I can wait.” Owen’s bladder needed to be seen to. Now. “You go on ahead and get us something from the kitchen. I’m sure Bev saved us leftovers. I’ll clean up.”

Ian snorted. “Yeah, right. You probably have to piss, and you look as weak as a baby. Come on, studly.”

Owen frowned. “What did I tell you about who’s in charge in bed?”

“I forget,
lover
.” Ian rolled out of bed and stood with his arms akimbo, smirking at him. “Why don’t you come remind me?”

When Owen just glared at him, unmoving, Ian shook his head. “See?” He crossed to help Owen up, and Owen swore because he needed Ian’s help.

“Just get me to the bathroom.”

Ian helped him into the bathroom and left him by the toilet.

“Get out.” Embarrassing.

“Oh fine. Don’t throw a hissy.” Ian held up his hands. “I’ll be out here. Yell when you’re done, or I’ll get Tim to help.” His eyes narrowed. “I mean it.”

Owen muttered under his breath about bossy subordinates, but inside he was ecstatic to know Ian
wanted
to help him. He might bluster and play about being in charge, but the concern in his gaze had been impossible to miss. After taking care of his most pressing need, Owen limped to the shower and turned it on. He’d grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste when Ian barged in once more.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me?” Ian huffed. He took off his clothes in a rush and stunned Owen into staring. “What?”