Saving Ren (Barretti Security Series, Book 3) (3 page)

“Consider the rest a tip,” Jagger said as he wrapped his hand around Declan’s upper arm. “Come on, Detective. Let’s take a ride.”

“Want a drink,” Declan muttered stubbornly but Jagger ignored him and easily dragged him off the barstool. Unfortunately Declan’s balance was off and he stumbled into Jagger, his wide chest brushing over Jagger’s in the process. The contact had Jagger cursing under his breath as his whole body lit up with desire and his first thought was that someone as big and strong as Declan would be able to withstand even the roughest fuck.

Jagger forced away the sudden image of Declan on his hands and knees and reached his arm around his waist to hold him upright. He doubted that someone as straight laced as Declan Hale would appreciate the direction his thoughts had taken. Jagger had an excellent gaydar and it wasn’t even pinging in the slightest as Declan leaned heavily against him.

“Text me when you get home,” Jagger called over his shoulder to Connor as he walked him towards the door. It swung open as he neared it.

“Sweetie, I told you your looks were gonna go someday, but even you can still do better than this,” Mags said with a hearty laugh as she held the door open for him and eyed Declan up and down. “He’s pretty though,” she said in appreciation. “Thought you liked ‘em a little scrawnier.”

“Funny,” Jagger muttered as he passed the large woman. Her burnt orange hair was in its usual braid and the tight top she was wearing showed her ample cleavage and thick waistline. No one would ever call Mags beautiful, or even pretty for that matter, but between her blunt personality and no-nonsense demeanor, she’d had her fair share of interest from the opposite sex. Little did they know that Mags only had eyes for the pretty little wife she kept stashed at home.

“How is he?” Mags asked as she glanced into the dark bar. Jagger didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“I think his leg’s bothering him,” Jagger said. “He needs to get off his feet.”

That was enough to get Mags moving. Jagger wasn’t even an afterthought as she hurried inside and he almost felt a little bit guilty for setting Connor in her sights. But he knew Connor would never admit to any discomfort and Mags was the only person he wouldn’t argue with.

“Gonna be sick,” he heard Declan mutter and Jagger managed to maneuver him away from the main part of the sidewalk and against the brick wall before he puked. When he was finally done, Declan swiped a sleeve over his mouth. “Tired,” he said softly. It didn’t make sense to Jagger but Declan’s words actually sounded more sad than drunk.

“I know,” Jagger answered as he maneuvered Declan to his car. He had no idea if Declan had driven here but he supposed it was good that Declan had picked Mags’ bar because Connor was practically a Nazi when it came to making sure patrons didn’t get behind the wheel if it seemed like they’d indulged even just a little too much. Even the unruliest of bar goers didn’t stand a chance when Connor offered the limited options of either a call to the local cab company or the police department.

Jagger got Declan settled into the front seat of his SUV and searched his pockets.

“Did you drive here, Detective?”

Declan’s gaze settled on him and a soft, almost serene smile split his lips. “Jagger,” he said and the sound of that husky voice skimmed over Jagger’s senses like the gentlest of caresses. “Funny name,” Declan said with a snort.

If the guy wasn’t so fucking hot when he got all soft and bleary, Jagger might have punched him. Even worse though, if he hadn’t just thrown up what seemed like a gallon’s worth of booze, Jagger would have done something far more stupid like run his tongue along the firm, glistening lips until they opened for him.

After several seconds, Jagger found what he was looking for in Declan’s jacket pocket. A quick look at his wallet gave Jagger the address he needed. There were a set of keys too and he compared the make on the key fob that was attached to the small, silver keyring to the cars parked along the street in front of the bar. There was no match but he supposed the man could have parked around the corner.

Declan had nodded off by the time Jagger got him buckled in and it took him only fifteen minutes to reach the city’s south side. The apartment building was extremely ordinary looking and less than what he would have expected for someone on a Detective’s salary to be living in. It wasn’t actually run-down or in a poor neighborhood – there was just nothing homey about it. No pretty landscaping, no nice balconies and patios. Just a faded brick building with a dozen or so units that looked exactly the same.

Jagger got out of the car and pulled Declan’s keys from his pocket. He found the key fob and pressed the lock button on it and was relieved when a plain, navy blue sedan at the end of the block lit up. So the man
had
had enough common sense not to drive. But it was also more proof that Declan’s plan had been to get shitfaced.

Jagger went around to the passenger side of his car and shook Declan awake. He grumbled a bit but didn’t fight Jagger as he hauled him to his feet and searched out the apartment number he’d seen on Declan’s license. He had to use his body to prop Declan up against the side of the door as he unlocked it and he bit back a groan when Declan’s hand grazed his waist as he tried to maintain his balance. God, he’d deserve a fucking medal after this was over.

It took several long, torturous seconds to get Declan into the apartment and the door locked behind them. His body felt like it was on fire from all the places Declan had been pressed up against him and he wondered if he’d done something wrong in a previous life to deserve the hell of lusting after a straight man. A straight, jackass of a man who was also a cop.

“Where’s your bedroom, Detective?” Jagger asked as he flipped on the lights. The place was clean but sparse. There weren’t any pictures on the walls and the furniture looked comfortable but basic. Nothing about the apartment gave him any hint into Declan’s life other than to say it was perfectly ordinary.

“Back there,” Declan said as he waved his arm half-heartedly towards the back hallway. The man’s bedroom wasn’t any better than the rest of the place and Jagger couldn’t help but wonder if he bought all his stuff from the same, low budget big box store. It wasn’t like Jagger was a connoisseur of fine living, but even he’d managed to pick out a few furnishings and decorative items that made his townhouse feel like it was his. And he’d only been living in the place for two weeks.

A sigh of relief went through Jagger as he deposited Declan’s weight onto the bed. He ignored the strange, empty feeling that overcame him at no longer having the other man’s body heat seeping through his own clothes and leaned down to pull Declan’s shoes off. He managed to get Declan’s jacket off too but that was as far as he was willing to go because putting his hands on Declan seemed like a bad idea. Touching his skin seemed like an even worse one.

Declan’s eyes drifted shut as he shifted his body in an effort to get more comfortable and Jagger took a moment to study the relaxed features of his face. When he forced himself to turn to go, he was surprised to feel a hand close over his. He glanced back at Declan and saw that his eyes were half-open though he was still clearly out of it.

“Tell Dom I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how else to keep him safe.”

Declan’s voice was so quiet that Jagger had to drop down next to the bed to hear him. “Who?”

Declan murmured a response but his words were unintelligible.

“Who did you have to keep safe, Declan?” Jagger asked. Nothing could have prepared Jagger for the one word that left Declan’s mouth on his next shallow exhale of breath.

“Ren.”

Chapter 2

The familiar mix of shame and desire coursed through Declan as he opened the motel room door. It had been nearly a month since the last time he’d needed this and he’d spent the entire day wishing that need away. But no amount of arrest reports or suspect interrogations had taken the edge off and he’d already been dialing the familiar number before he’d even exited the station.

His eyes instantly searched out the chair in the opposite corner of the room and he sighed in relief when his vision adjusted to the darkness and he was able to pick out the shadowy figure he’d been looking for. As the door closed, he engaged the deadbolt and then reached up to flip the security latch. The man didn’t speak or move as Declan removed his firearm and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed and there was no discernable reaction as he began to unbutton his shirt. It was exactly as it always was and the routine eased his nerves somewhat while his body hummed with excitement.

Instead of letting his shirt fall to the ground, Declan draped it over the end of the bed. His fingers went to his pants and it took only seconds to work them free and drop them to his ankles. His underwear followed though it took some maneuvering since his cock was like a steel pipe. But he didn’t kick the pants free – he simply leaned over and placed his hands on the mattress and waited. It wasn’t long before the figure rose and slowly walked around the bed, his long fingers reaching for the button on his slacks. He’d already removed his jacket, though he’d left his shirt on – Declan couldn’t remember a time that he’d actually taken it off and the fact that he didn’t was irrelevant. His chest wasn’t what Declan needed.

Once the man was out of his line of sight, Declan focused on the opposite wall. He hated the picture that hung there – he suspected it was supposed to be a painting of some perfect little seaside community with happy couples and families walking along the waterfront as boats bobbed in the calm waters of the harbor. The sunset was a sickening shade of rusty orange and washed out yellow and the blue sky couldn’t be bothered with even a single cloud. Completely ridiculous perfection.

The sound of a zipper being dragged down had Declan’s dick growing thicker and the sound of foil tearing had him sinking his teeth into his lower lip. He shouldn’t have waited so long to make the call. He shouldn’t have hoped that he could find some other way to ease the ache in his gut.

“How do you want it?”

“Hard,” Declan said in the moment before a finger pressed between his cheeks and cool lube chilled his heated skin. “Fast,” he added though it wasn’t something he needed to say. His partner always knew that fast accompanied hard. He could count on one hand the few times he’d wanted it any differently.

There was no warning as the man’s dick slipped between the globes of his ass and began breaching him. Declan bit back a hiss of discomfort as the crown sank into him and he bore down against the unyielding pressure. Pain went through him like a knife as the man shoved into the root but he gave Declan no time to adjust before pulling out and slamming in again. Declan forced his eyes open to search out the one part of the fucking painting he liked as his body tried to adjust to the ruthless invasion.

There was barely enough natural light seeping through the crack in the curtains for Declan to make out the young man at the far edge of the painting. His expression was blurry but it didn’t matter because he did what he always did and imagined laughing blue eyes, a wide smile and dark hair that was just a little too long on top.

The knot inside Declan’s belly began to unfurl as the pain in his ass started to recede and pleasure simmered along his nerve endings. Broad hands closed over his hips and dragged him back to meet every thrust and Declan wondered if the man’s stormy gray eyes were clouded over with lust. The only problem with his train of thought was that he knew for a fact that the man behind him had green eyes, not gray ones.

“Harder,” Declan snapped as an image he didn’t want began to filter through his mind. He tried to focus on the painting once more but the image of the young man wouldn’t stick. The only blue eyes he saw were the ones that looked up at him from the bed in a haze of pleasure as the warm body beneath his drew Declan in while another, heavier body forced Declan farther down. The hips snapping against Declan’s were accompanied by one heavily tattooed arm wrapping around his waist and the other coming down to rest on the bed next to them.
Them.

Declan shouted as his orgasm washed through him and he couldn’t stop the moans that escaped his lips every time the cock buried deep inside of him pulsed and throbbed. His own release dripped down his hand as he continued to stroke himself to match the aftershocks winding through him. The fingers digging into his hips eased and Declan closed his eyes as the still semi-hard shaft pulled free of his ass. Before the man had even stepped away from him, Declan felt the familiar cold seep through his body once more and as he watched the man head towards the bathroom, Declan closed his eyes in despair. He managed to lower himself so that he was sitting on the bed but not even his sore ass could ease the burning pain that was spreading throughout his entire body.

“Here.”

A washcloth was pressed into his hand. Declan wiped himself clean and dropped the washcloth on top of the thin bedspread before he stood to drag up his pants.

“You okay?”

The silky smooth voice sounded harsh to Declan’s ears and he wondered why. Maybe it was because they never spoke afterwards. Then again, they rarely spoke before or during either.

“Isn’t this against the rules?” Declan said quietly as he reached for his shirt. The man was somewhere behind him now, probably getting his own clothes back in order.

“You said someone else’s name this time,” the man replied, ignoring Declan’s question.

Declan was so thrown off by the comment that he actually turned around. His eyes had adjusted enough to the dim interior of the room that he could see the man tucking his shirt into his slacks.

“What?” Declan whispered in horror.

“Jagger,” the guy said. “All the other times it was Ren, but today it was Jagger.”

Jesus.

Declan sank back down on the bed. He knew the guy wasn’t offended that he’d said someone else’s name since neither of them were here for any other reason than sex, but he hadn’t even been aware he was doing it at all. Using Ren’s image was bad enough but to be calling out for him? And now Jagger? What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Zane…” Declan said.

“It’s like everything else, Declan. What happens in this room, stays in this room,” Zane said.

Declan didn’t look up when he felt Zane stop next to him. Between Zane’s revelation and his almost gentle tone, Declan was feeling raw and exposed.

“You were close today, Declan.”

Declan looked up at the tall man who stood less than three feet from him. It was still too dark to make out his face but Declan already knew what he’d see if the lights were on. Black hair, mossy green eyes, wide, strong jaw.

“Close to what?” Declan asked.

“Close to the point where what I can give you isn’t enough anymore. I’m not into hurting the guys I’m with so if that’s what you want…” Zane said. He didn’t finish the statement as he dragged on his jacket and left the room.

Declan closed his eyes as nausea rolled through him. How the hell could he explain that it hadn’t been about pain? At least not in the beginning when he and Zane had agreed upon this arrangement. But the other man was right – Declan was relying more and more on the pain to wipe away the reality that what they were doing wasn’t enough. Nothing Zane did would take away the aching, empty need that Declan was drowning in.

But maybe Zane was right and it was time to rethink the relationship, though the use of that word to describe what they had between them was a stretch. Even fuck buddies didn’t work since they rarely saw each other outside of this room. They were simply two guys who used each other to get off and the reasons they did so were their own. But apparently even Zane was starting to see through him. If Declan didn’t get his shit together soon, the world he’d spent his entire life building would come crashing down around him and people would realize he was a complete and utter fraud.

Feeling the need to get out of the suddenly too small room, Declan quickly buttoned up his shirt and reached for his gun. He was just tucking it into the holster when the alarm on his phone sounded. He froze for a second as the ringtone registered and then he snatched the phone out of his pocket. His heart leapt into his throat as the notification flashed across his screen and then he was rushing out of the room.

***

Declan was so distracted that he didn’t even register the sound of the passenger door on his car being opened and by the time he had his gun drawn and aimed, a powerful hand closed around his wrist.

“Put it away, Detective,” Jagger muttered. “Unless you want me to pull out my gun and we can compare whose is bigger,” he said dryly.

“Jesus Christ, Varos,” Declan snapped as he yanked his arm free. His adrenaline surged through his blood as he eased his finger off the trigger. “Are you fucking insane?” he bit out. His words barely cleared his mouth before Jagger’s huge hand wrapped around his throat and dragged him forward so only inches separated their mouths.

“You have one minute to explain who is in that God damn cabin, Detective,” Jagger snarled as he glanced through the windshield at the log cabin that sat in the clearing more than 500 yards away. The fact that a jet black vintage GTO sat parked in front of the sparsely lit structure had Declan guessing Jagger already had his answer. Add in that Jagger didn’t seem to be concerned about the gun still in Declan’s hand and Declan was certain Jagger already knew what was going on.

He managed to wrench free of the hold Jagger had on him and snapped, “Why waste time telling you something you already know?”

“Then tell me something I don’t,” Jagger responded. “Like why I shouldn’t call Vin and Dom right now and tell them how a guy they think of as family fucking stabbed them in the back.”

Declan shoved out of the car but left the door open so the noise of it being closed wouldn’t be heard through the open glade. Even though it was dark, Declan knew this place by heart and the surrounding mountains would act as an echo chamber for any and all sounds. And the last thing he wanted was for the occupant of the cabin to hear them.

Jagger got out too and Declan wasn’t surprised to see him mimic Declan’s move not to shut the car door. He strode around the car and got into Declan’s face once more and Declan wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or so their voices wouldn’t carry.

“How did you find me?” Declan asked. The road winding up the mountain wasn’t exactly teeming with traffic and he sure as hell would have noticed headlights behind him.

“Tracking device. I put it on your car after you said something about keeping Ren safe.”

Declan was so surprised that he couldn’t even find the words to respond.

“Short memory, Detective?” Jagger asked. When Declan didn’t answer, Jagger nodded knowingly. “Didn’t you wonder how you got home last night?”

Declan stiffed. His last memory had been staring at the row of bottles behind the bar in the little dive he’d found on the outskirts of downtown. He’d picked it because the chances of running into any people he knew were pretty slim considering how off the beaten path the establishment was and the cab ride home wouldn’t break the bank. But apparently there hadn’t even been a cab ride home like he’d thought after he’d woken up the next morning with one hell of a hangover.

“You drove me home?”

Jagger nodded.

“You go to that bar?” Declan grated out.

“Connor works there,” Jagger said.

A faint memory of the hot bartender flitted through his mind. He hadn’t seen Connor Talbot the day he’d interrogated Jagger so he hadn’t recognized him when he’d slid him a crisp hundred dollar bill.

“For a guy who’s supposedly smart enough to make detective, you sure do stupid shit. Getting shitfaced, hook-ups in flea-bag motels.”

Terror went through Declan at Jagger’s statement about the motel.

“Don’t worry, I don’t give a shit whose wife you’re fucking,” Jagger snapped.

Wife?
Had Jagger not seen Zane leaving the room?

“What I do give a fuck about is how you know where Ren Barretti is,” Jagger ground out.

The relief that Jagger hadn’t discovered his secret was nearly palpable but the use of Ren’s name brought Declan back to the present.

“It’s my cabin,” Declan said. “I gave Ren the key and the security code after the shooting,” Declan finally admitted and wasn’t surprised when Jagger grabbed him by the throat once more.

***

Jagger was so enraged that it was everything he could do not to wrap both his hands around Declan’s thick neck and squeeze. To think Vin and Dom Barretti had been torturing themselves for days wondering where their brother had disappeared to and this asshole had known all along – had lied to their faces.

“Explain,” he growled.

“After the D.A. signed off on the shooting as being justified, Ren wanted to leave. I tried to convince him to go back to his brothers but he wouldn’t even consider it. I knew it wasn’t safe for him out there on his own so I offered him use of the cabin. He said he’d think about it, but only if I promised not to come here…not to check on him. I agreed and gave him all the cash I had on me.”