Foster Siblings 3: Brokedown Hearts (3 page)

“I know. Okay, I’ll shut up now. I’ll stop trying to push you into doing things a different way. I know you have your own style and that it works for you.” With a groan, Braden muttered, “You just make the rest of us look like slackers and slobs.”

Getting a glance at himself in a mirror, assessing the unforgiving nature of not only his physical appearance but also the hardness living in his eyes, Ben frowned. Thoughts of how he’d constantly had to hide many of his most aggressive sexual needs with this man—desires he’d mastered early in his life and kept buried and chained with every man he’d been with—assaulted Ben, and his gut clenched with sickness. “I think I’m just hardwired different. It must be in my genes.” He did have half his coldhearted father’s DNA in him, after all; those genes had to manifest in him somewhere.

“You made yourself who you are,” Braden replied without pause. “Nobody deserves the credit and accolades for the fine man you’ve become more than you.”

This time a caustic rumble rolled through Ben, one he could not suppress. “And now I’m going to hang up. Have Jonah call me. Bye.”

Without another word, Ben ended the call. He didn’t dare give Braden another chance to mention Ben’s history. Ben wasn’t in the mood to rehash foster homes and searches for birth parents. When they’d been knee-deep in a serious relationship, Ben hadn’t been able to give Braden more than the basics of his past. He hadn’t spilled a word of what he had eventually discovered via locating his birth father—the one good thing he’d gained in his life as a result of searching for his past halfway around the world—so he certainly wasn’t going to spill his soul now that they were only friends.

Catching another glimpse of himself in the mirror above his dresser, taking in the six-foot-five height, slashing cheekbones, and natural, muscular build that came from his father, as well as the bronze coloring and shiny black locks that came from his mother, Ben scowled again. He didn’t have parents, he reminded himself. He simply had DNA donors. The important stuff, the stuff that made him the man he’d become, had been built in him over the course of his career.

And right now, I have a new job. A place to focus my energy.

Adrenaline buzzed in Ben, feeding his desires and life force in a way he couldn’t ignore. He finished packing a bag, got any portable gear he could travel with together, and set everything by the front door.

He wanted to be ready to say yes and get started on this new gig the moment he took Jonah’s call.

* * * *

David wrapped his fingers around the motel room door handle and cringed as they twisted in something sticky. Swallowing past an urge to gag, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Next to him, Brittany shoved her sunglasses up into her auburn tresses and frowned as she stepped inside the dank room. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming back to stay with us? We love having you there. And this place…” She glanced from the room out to the run-down location of the motel, off the Interstate, just outside of town, and wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure this place will be good for you, David. I’m not even sure it’s safe.”

David’s immediate thought was that this room wasn’t as clean as his cell back in prison. Travis’s threat from two days ago still ran on a loop in his brain, though, impossible to ignore. “I’ll be fine. This is for the best.” Trying to convince himself as much as Brittany, he murmured, “I need to be on my own. I need to prove to myself that I can be and be okay.”

Reluctantly, it seemed, Brittany nodded. “I hate that it means you’re moving out, but I get it too. I know it was only a few days, but I’m going to miss you.” From her five-foot-three-inch vantage point, she looked up at David, her mouth in a twist. “Your mother doesn’t exactly love me, and I’m either tolerated or ignored by the rest of your family. It’s selfish of me, but I liked looking at you across the table and knowing you weren’t wishing someone else was sitting next to Travis.”

God, this little slip of a woman made David’s chest tighten painfully. “I still like you, Brit. This move isn’t a slap in the face to you or your hospitality. I promise.”

“I know,” she assured him quickly. “I’m just being a baby. I love Travis, so I don’t regret moving up here to be with him, but I miss having my family around me every day. You know?”

“Yeah.” David’s voice scratched, and his throat hurt unbearably. “I do.”

Her eyes going wide, Brittany slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” She spoke through her fingers. “That was stupid of me to say. Of course you know what it’s like to be separated.” She shoved her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “I’ll just slink away now. Pretend I wasn’t here.” Lifting her hand, she walked out of the room. “Bye.”

“Brit!” Without thought, David leaped and pulled the petite woman into a tight bear hug. Dipping down, he roughly whispered next to her ear, “Thank you. For everything. I really mean it.”

Brittany squeezed him in return. “Anytime.” Pulling away, she touched his cheek and offered a gentle smile. “We’ll talk soon. Okay?”

“Absolutely.” With a wave, David stepped backward into his room. “Bye.”

After walking the rest of the way to her car, Brittany waved once more, got in, and drove away.

Once again, David was alone.

With a deep breath in, he did an about-face and took in the motel room from corner to corner. The walls had probably started out a crisp white, but age—and likely cigarette smoke—had since turned them a dingy yellow. The carpet was so faded David could no longer tell if it once had a pattern; now it was something between dirty mauve and gray. The bed had a floral comforter done in shades of black, green, and pink, and a basic dark wood headboard had dozens of chips and scratches in it. An ancient television, microwave, and hot plate sat atop a dresser that looked at least forty years out of date. A small round table with two chairs was positioned in front of a window. The window only looked out to the parking lot and empty pool and another line of motel rooms, though, so it wasn’t as if David had a view. An opening at the back of the room led to an area with a sink and tiny bathroom with a shower/tub combo.

Nudging his bag out of the doorway with his foot, David forced himself to keep his head up and a scenario of doom and panic from his thoughts. He emphatically declared, “Home, sweet home,” and threw himself into one of the chairs at the table. Dust plumes immediately surrounded him, and David coughed and shot straight back to his feet.

This isn’t going to work
. Yet David knew he didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Figure out a way to make this place livable, and quit bitching about it
. First things on David’s list: find the closest bus stop, get to the nearest grocery or superstore, and buy a truckload of cleaning supplies. If he intended to live here, he needed to disinfect every inch of the place.

Time to put some of that prep work for the real world he’d learned in prison to good use. He had to grin and bear his circumstances. As a consequence of the choices he’d made years ago, this was his new life, and he was stuck with it whether he wanted it or not.

Turning back around, David swung open his room door but stopped dead the moment he looked up. Across the motel lot, a dark-haired man pulled a duffel out of the backseat of his car, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and David couldn’t breathe.
He’s so beautiful.

So big, the man had to be at least six feet five. His shoulders and chest were wide as a mountain; his hair was as rich a black as David had ever seen, and his bronzy, olive-ish-colored skin made David’s fingers itch with the urge to touch. Right where David stood, his chest started to pound, and his flesh became achy, as if begging for contact long denied it.

Unbidden, the image of this man grabbing David, backing him into the wall, and plundering his mouth with a kiss full of raw intent flooded David’s senses and awakened his body. His cock twitched, and his rear tunnel clenched and pulsed with life in a way it never had before. David gasped, and the man looked over, straight at David, and David bit his lip to stifle a whimper of desire.

The man dipped his head in David’s direction, offered something of a smile, and David bolted back into his room.

No. No
. David slammed the door, leaned back against it, and struggled to control his breathing.
Don’t feel anything; don’t feel anything; don’t feel anything
. David chanted the directive at himself over and over again, but he couldn’t erase from his mind that little nod and smile, or forget the way that in such a crappy moment of his life, such a small gesture of kindness had reached all the way inside him and touched his heart. It shouldn’t matter, but it had. Deeply.

This was not good.

* * * *

The next afternoon, Ben eased his car to a stop on the side of the street, in the heart of Coleman, across from a little Cuban eatery. He watched through the windshield as his “job” entered the small restaurant and walked to the counter. The full glass front allowed Ben to see inside, and he easily noted David talking to a server. With a quick exchange of words and a nod, the blond man—Ben’s assignment for the next few weeks at least—exited the establishment.

Ben almost started his car again, prepared to follow David to his next location. Rather than leave, David stalled in front of the restaurant. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he scanned the street in both directions once, twice, and a third time. He glanced down at his watch—twice—and then started assessing the cars on the road again.

I guess someone stood him up.

David remained on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, so Ben settled in and got comfortable. He knew how to shift his body and sink into a worn-down portion of the seat just right to make sitting bearable for hours if necessary. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d been hired to follow someone and report back to the client what he saw.

David Joseph Joyner
. Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes. How fortuitous that Ben had unknowingly checked into the same dive motel David had apparently decided to make his temporary home.
So much for his family helping him out
. Not that they were prizes in the family lottery. Ben wasn’t surprised the guy had ended up at the motel.

Having just come on this case so recently, Ben didn’t have anything close to a completed file on David yet, but he had enough to make an educated guess that David wouldn’t get family support, and he’d been right. A computer search, using programs that allowed him to go a bit deeper than a mere Internet search, but not as far as he could have if he’d been able to work on Skye’s payroll and use their resources, gave Ben the basics about David Joyner: thirty-four years of age, had earned a master’s degree in business, entrepreneurship, and technology but had returned to Coleman after graduating rather than use it in a bigger city.

Five years ago David had been married for six months but was now divorced. During that time period David had spiraled out of control. He’d been arrested and convicted for stalking and harassing Christian Sanchez, convicted for assaulting Jonah Roberts, convicted for unlawfully entering a private residence, convicted for possessing a stolen weapon.

In David’s final act of stalking Christian, he’d attempted suicide in front of his ex. When unsuccessful, David had slipped into a catatonic state. He’d then been remanded to a facility in Gainesville for eighteen months and had eventually pleaded guilty to all charges. He’d been granted time served for the eighteen months he’d been institutionalized, and after being declared fit, he’d been transferred up to the Panhandle to serve the remainder of his five years in a minimum-security prison.

And now he’s free and back in Coleman. And Jonah doesn’t like it or trust him one bit.

Considering that David’s family, specifically his parents, hadn’t even given their kid a pass on borrowing a family weapon—they’d told the cops that David had stolen the gun he’d used and wanted him charged for the crime—Ben had to wonder why the hell David had come back to Coleman in the first place. The guy’s siblings didn’t seem to claim David as one of their own any more than the parents did, so it didn’t appear to Ben like the smartest move for David to return to his small hometown. Thus Ben gave credence to Jonah’s concerns.

Still, as Ben studied David from his position, he couldn’t help but recall David’s shocked, almost frightened reaction to Ben’s merely holding eye contact and giving him a small nod of acknowledgment in the motel parking lot the other morning. Ben had been stunned to see David come out of that motel room, but he’d had the ability to cover that reaction, while David was an open book of frayed emotions. At the time, Ben had figured it best to act naturally, rather than look away or hope David hadn’t seen him. Ben wouldn’t be able to remain invisible anymore, but in truth, that might not be a bad thing. This was a small town, so living at the same motel would make keeping an eye on David a whole lot easier. From his vantage point across the parking lot of their motel rooms, he’d be able to figure out David’s schedule quickly and track him 24-7.

Across the street, David checked his watch again, chewed on the edge of his lower lip, and Ben couldn’t control the clench of empathy that took hold of his gut. He couldn’t let go of the thought that this guy was far too frightened to be a danger to anyone. To Ben, David seemed…scared and lost.
No
. Ben gnashed his teeth and glared at himself in the rearview mirror.
Don’t start thinking like that. Respect the information you’ve gathered about this man and trust that maybe Jonah and Braden know more about him than you do.

While in a holding pattern—because that was what his subject appeared to be in too—Ben reassessed more of what he knew about David so far. Ben had put a call in to the warden up in Pensacola; he’d been told by an assistant that the man would get back to him within twenty-four hours. He’d also made a call to the psychiatrist in charge of David’s recovery during his time locked away in the holding institution in Gainesville, but had been informed the doctor had just started six weeks of vacation. Ben had to chuckle at the timing.
Maybe someone forced him into some time off work too.