2-Bound By Law (5 page)

“It started the night Damon was attacked. He went out and you and I stayed home. When two in the morning rolled around and he hadn’t checked in, you went looking for him and I stayed home in case he called. Fuck, there are so many nights I wished I’d never stayed home to get that call.”

The voice on the other end of Styx’s phone was low and controlled…and it had made him go rigid with fear, although he hadn’t recognized it.

His body recognized it, even though his mind hadn’t.

“Boy, you need to get your ass home or the fag you’ve been fucking gets cut into little pieces.”

He swallowed. “I haven’t been fucking anyone.”

A short laugh had been followed by a thorough description of Law, including exactly what he’d been wearing when he’d left the house to find Damon an hour before.

“I’m coming.”

“Good.”

Something…someone was catching up to him, the blind fear was second only to the near-crippling anger. And so he’d packed his shit up and he’d left—his only thought was to keep Law safe.

Now, Law’s face paled and his jaw tightened as understanding dawned. “He’d been following us.”

“Yeah. He’d known where I was for a while—maybe the whole time I was at Greg’s. I never bothered to ask because it didn’t matter anymore. I was causing trouble for everyone, especially you, and so before I hung up, he gave me an address and instructions on what to do when I got there.”

The address was Upper East Side, a door-manned building. He’d slid past when a woman exited and the doorman was distracted by calling a cab for her, used the stairs and made it up to the sixth-floor apartment.

He didn’t know who the guy was or what he’d done—all he knew was that his father would make good on his promise to hurt Law, knew it deep in his bones. When the man answered the door, Styx pushed his way inside and beat the shit out of the guy. Forced him to give up his safe combination and then Styx cleaned out the money and left the apartment and the building and met his father in Central Park.

It had been like looking in a mirror—Styx knew what he’d age into, although his father didn’t appear to be older than forty, if that. He’d looked strangely relaxed as he’d stared at Styx and Styx fought the urge to ask him to fill in the blanks about his life and memories.

He decided that ignorance was bliss. “Until I contacted the police, who in turn got me hooked up with the FBI and finally the CIA, I had no idea my father was such a wanted man.”

“Who is he?”

“An assassin who freelances for most of the major mafias—mainly in the US but he’s done hits abroad as well. They’d been trying to catch him for years, but the CIA didn’t even know where he lived.”

“What did the CIA know about him?”

“His name. They never knew he’d had a son. There were no records of me anywhere—not until the other night. Before I saw the birth certificate, I didn’t know for sure he’d resurfaced or if I was truly his son. My memory’s still a total fucking blank. And I wasn’t about to ask the old man anything.” Styx laughed, but there was no humor behind it.

“What about your mother?”

“I never asked—he never said.” Styx stared at the wall instead of Law. “If she’s alive and she escaped from him, she’s better off staying away from me. If she knows what happened to me…”

Then who’d want to know her anyway?
“I look like him. He calls me kid.
Hey, kid, aren’t you gonna give your old man a hug
?” Styx shuddered. Law was the only man he could ever let his guard down around and he knew it would be okay. “I didn’t tell him I’d lost my memory—it didn’t matter. We never took a walk down memory lane. He just gave me jobs and I killed people. I don’t know if they were good or bad, but I do know that I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

“You did that for me, Styx. Jesus.”

“No,” he protested vehemently. “Don’t you try to take that on yourself. It was my choice. Nothing I did was your fault. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Always will.”

“Do you still have the dreams?” Law asked.

He did—the ones where he was running in the fog, surrounded by the blaring horns and then came the sounds of screams…

He always woke up when the screaming started. “I’ve tried everything—hypnosis, drugs, psychiatrists. I’ve taken advantage of everything the CIA had to offer and nothing.” He dragged his hand through his hair, frustrated at himself the way he always got when he thought about his lack of memory.

“Greg always said it had to have been a major trauma.”

“You lived through something God-awful, and you didn’t block out your entire memory.”

“I wanted to,” Law admitted. “So the CIA took you in because they thought you’d eventually remember.”

Styx nodded. “At first, I was simply a witness but then they trained me. I worked undercover for the CIA, continuing to play my father’s game for two months in order to gather more evidence. He was a wanted man, Law, and I knew a lot of his secrets after working with him. But then he disappeared completely—went off the grid and stopped contacting me. I thought it was over—that he’d gotten killed. But we never stopped looking for him.” Styx wanted to turn away but Law wouldn’t have allowed that.

Law always thought Styx was the strong one—he’d been so very wrong about that.

“He resurfaced after four years—the SAS clued us in and I knew he’d make contact. When he did, I was finally able to catch him. He went to prison, and for a while, I was free. Working for the CIA, trying to make up for everything my father did.”

“That’s why you visited me those few times.”

“I did, right after he went to jail. But even then, I was worried—he’s good, and I knew escape was inevitable. He bided his time in jail for ten years. He escaped three months ago and started following me. The CIA thinks he had help from another country’s agency. But the upshot is, he’s out. And he’s made contact with me. He gave me your address. Old and new.” He left out the part about the hit on him because that was something Law didn’t need to know yet, if ever. Law would assume that Styx’s father wanted him back in the family business, not dead.

Styx would have to leave Law and Paulo behind soon, because they were actually in more danger with him around than without.

But he couldn’t leave yet—he needed more time, and he refused to let his father rob him of this little piece of it, no matter how small or ill-timed.

Law cradled Styx’s face in his hands. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not. He’s never stopped tailing you in an attempt to find me.”

The thought that his father had been so close to Law made him so angry and scared at the same time.

“I can take care of myself. I know how to fight dirty.”

Styx pushed off the bed and stood. “If I hadn’t visited you…if I hadn’t been so stupid…”

“I wondered…I felt you there at the hospital, but blamed it on the meds and wishful thinking.”

“You didn’t seem all that surprised when I mentioned it earlier,” he said, and Law’s expression softened momentarily. “You’d called and I got worried.”

“It was only a matter of time before he did something to try to pull you back in,” Law said fiercely. “If he’s known where I was, he would’ve used me. Maybe this way it was better—we have a chance to stop him.”

“There is no
we
in this situation,” Styx told him. “I’m in charge of keeping you safe—this is an op, Law, not us against the world.”

“You do not get to do this to me again.”

“Damn right I do. This isn’t up for discussion.”

“Nothing’s changed, has it? Memories or no memories, you’re still the same selfish asshole you always were.”

“I did it for you.”

“No, you did it for you. You never gave me a choice when we were nineteen, and I’m damned well not giving you the opportunity to take it away again now.”

Law knew there was more to the story, but pushing Styx on such a potentially explosive topic wasn’t smart. He still had the amnesia. Triggering a memory under any circumstances was problematic, but under these, it could prove deadly.

“You don’t know what I did. What kind of guy I was. What if what you know is only what you think you know? I might not be who you think I am.”

Styx looked so troubled at his own words that Law could hardly stand it. “I know enough,” he told Styx fiercely.

“I’m dangerous.”

“So am I.”

Styx pushed away. “You and Paulo should hide. Away from me.”

“No.”

“I’m not giving you the choice.”

“I’m through letting you push me away for my own good. That’s just as dangerous and it’s obviously not working.” Styx was protecting him again—the fucking asshole.

“I’ve been ruining your life for ten years.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Law scoffed, the truth of that statement hitting him harder than it should, because although he’d never considered his pining for Styx something that ruined him, he’d definitely been pining. Hoping. Waiting, like a fucking girl.

Jesus Christ.

It had taken ten years—actually, sixteen if he counted when Styx originally left—to open himself up. “I wasn’t ready to settle down—the military wasn’t exactly conducive to that. And then I was running the club and got all the ass I needed,” Law continued.

All excuses he’d used on himself thousands of times, and no, Styx wasn’t buying them either.

“You needed to just let me go. I’m sure Damon told you so over the years.”

Damon had, constantly, and Law tried, but no one had ever really fit. Greg would’ve understood. Greg, who’d once told him that Styx reminded him of himself the most of the three boys.

“I was a goddamned mouthy know-it-all. Hid a lot of shit that way,” Greg told him.

“But you’re not like that now.”

“I’ve got no more shit to hide.”

Greg was also single during the time Law knew him. He never brought any guys back to the house—for him, that was off-limits. But he also never dated anyone seriously.

“What about a man for you?” Law asked him once and Greg smiled and told him, “There was someone. Once you’ve been with the best man…why bother to look for lightning to strike twice?”

For Law, Styx had been that elusive man—still was, but with Paulo, Law had managed to recapture parts of himself he’d thought he’d lost. Parts he’d figured would never be alive again.

But now, he had Styx back with his pierced dick, and Law remembered how it felt inside him, hitting his prostate, turning and rubbing, and holy Mother of God, he could still get hard in an instant thinking about it. That feeling had been the only reason that made him attempt to bottom again with a guy with a Prince Albert, but that had ended in disaster, because the sex hadn’t been nearly as good…and because Law had called out Styx’s name like a fucking amateur.

This too could end in disaster, for so many different reasons, the least of which being that he was so angry.

“I was getting everything together,” Law said as he pushed off the bed and stood, as did Styx. They started to circle one another as if gearing up for a fight.

“Ten years later,” Styx goaded, although he looked sad and Law didn’t care, lunged for him so their bodies slammed against the wall.

His was a red-hot anger built on years of waiting for and wanting something he couldn’t have. Styx got it—he knew Styx had wanted him, too, but to find out now that Styx was planning on controlling him in this situation the way he’d been controlling him for years was too much to bear.

“Law, calm the fuck down,” Styx warned, gave a soft grunt as Law’s fist connected with his gut.

Law could always fight—Delta Force had taught him just as much as the CIA had taught Styx. He pinned Styx as best he could, although the upper hand didn’t last long. The one with the most anger always lost and tonight, Law was that man.

Styx ended up with Law on his stomach under him, the way they’d ended up so many times before this. But it was hazy, fraught with too many memories of other men, of fucking and drinking too much, of combat and good times and bad.

Styx yanked Law’s shirt up roughly, ran his tongue down his spine, a hot line of fire that made Law squirm, even as Styx held him in place with a hand on the back of Law’s neck, his cheek pressed to the ground.

“I wreck you, Law. I hate that.”

“Do I wreck you? Do you stay up nights thinking about me? Remembering what it was like to fuck me into the mattress?” Because Law did.

“I want your pants down. I want to lick you—fuck you—do things to you that’ll make you walk funny for days,” Styx told him in a voice husky with want that Law remembered well.

Neither had been a virgin when they’d met but Styx had more experience. And while Law had been reluctant to bottom, with Styx he turned submissive immediately, allowing Styx his ass after he’d been stripped down and kissed like there was no tomorrow.

Law could still hear his words of surrender to Styx, whispered on that cold winter’s night a month after Styx moved into Greg’s house…
Fuck me now, Styx
…
can’t wait anymore.

And Styx had done just that. Law had craved him in the old days and apparently, his dick still did because Law nearly reached under his body to unbutton and unzip his own jeans. But then Styx flipped him onto his back and pinned his arms under his knees, straddled him, his jean-clad cock bulging. Styx moved his hands behind him to do the honors of Law’s jeans, freeing his cock, and Law cursed not wearing underwear tonight.

He’d figured none would be needed in his plans with Paulo.

Paulo.
Law bucked in an effort to shove Styx off him, even though he was completely torn about staying put.

“You didn’t complain when I got you off at the restaurant. But go ahead, you know you like it better when you resist,” Styx told him, and his voice was…gentle. Smooth.

“Don’t,” he begged hoarsely, although his dick was hard against Styx’s hand, and he held his breath, not sure which decision Styx would make.

But it was Paulo who did so by coming in quietly and clearing his throat to get their attention. Law imagined they were quite a sight, with him mostly undressed and Styx sitting on him, and their intent must’ve been obvious.