More, page 32
“Yes! Those weren't easy decisions for me. You think being a man with my ambitions is easy?”
I took another step. My hands clenched, ached to lash out. I refrained. I was the better man. “But you did it. You stole from investors— people who live in this country you supposedly serve. And you threatened to hurt people, to hurt someone I care about.”
His face reddened and his jaw clenched. “I'll do more than hurt them. If you could have just done as I'd asked. If you could have only pretended to be a good son, then none of this would have happened. You have never worked for anything in your life. You have never committed to anything more than yourself. You go from man to man and do what feels good to you. You don't know about making difficult decisions and devoting yourself to anything.”
This wasn't just about getting me to do what he wanted. He was punishing me for who I was. I staggered backward and slumped into a chair. I stared at the floor, but I didn't see the Oriental rug for long. I saw a smiling dark-haired kid and bright green eyes filled with compassion. When I spoke again, a quiet, childlike voice slipped out. “You'll really kill them if I don't do what you want?”
“No.”
I lifted my head and stared at him. “Then your threats are empty, meaningless to me.”
“I won't kill them because if you don't agree to my terms right here, right now, you'll never leave this house.” The twisted grin that spread over his lips and the angry, wrinkled flesh around his eyes were not the look a father should ever give his son. He reached inside his suit jacket.
I'd seen the gun before, of course. Fifteen years earlier.
I was a different man then. He wouldn't get the frightened reaction he once did.
“Didn't you know we had a break-in tonight? While my son was visiting. The grieving father makes for a much better image than a perverted son who prostitutes himself at a sex club, selling himself for his own sick pleasure.”
A laugh escaped me. The sound pierced the silence left by my father's threat. Richard had been right. Why was that funny? The man fretted and cared like no one I ever knew, but that wasn't what caused the odd laughter. The entire situation was too damned unbelievable, and the realization my father thought murder was his ticket to the White House and that he'd rather kill me than see me live my own life caused the tension-relieving laughter to bubble up and out of my mouth.
He gripped an arm of the chair and rose, holding the gun steady. “Stop fucking laughing. Do you find this amusing?”
I shook my head. The laughter abated somewhat. “No, none of it's funny. If you kill me, what makes you think Richard and Matthew won't be able to convince the police of all you've done?”
The resulting grin painted the perfect picture of a madman. “The police chief and I have always had a good relationship when it came to protecting our citizens. He will not allow you or your depraved friends to destroy me with lies. There's no proof, nothing to connect me to anything. Why the hell would they believe a couple of disgusting men like them? I've seen what they've done to you. I have pictures. I've seen them fucking you on your goddamn dining room table, sucking your cock and licking your ass. They are perverts. They are not people anyone will ever listen to.”
Pictures? From inside our home? While I ignorantly went about falling for Matthew and Richard, my father had sent his man into our lives. And I had done nothing to stop it.
I'd heard the confession the FBI wanted, but I needed more. I rose from the chair, ignored the gun, and kept talking.
“Tell me about Danny Conner, Dad.”
His face paled. “How— ”
“I know all about your lover. I know you killed him.” I pulled the watch from my pocket and held out my hand. The watch sat on my flattened palm, shining and pristine despite its age. It felt heavy, as if the weight of my father's lies was tucked inside.
He shook his head, moving the gun from side to side with him, his eyes on the watch. “What?”
“You had his watch that night. You gave him the cocaine. Was there something in it?”
“No. I... I gave him his watch back because I couldn't keep it.”
“You put the coke in it!”
“Yes. But... I had to tell him it was over. I knew I'd break his heart. I wanted to ease his pain. I didn't want him to be lonely, to be sad. I-I didn't want to hurt him. Oh, God. But I did... I... ”
“Killed him.”
“No! I hurt him when I told him we had to end it. He was fine before then. He was high, but he was fine. He said he wanted some time alone. I left him in the bathroom and— I loved him. I didn't want him to die. I didn't want him to kill himself like that. I knew the moment I saw him on the floor that he'd done it to himself.”
A part of me hadn't wanted to admit the possibility existed that Conner had committed suicide. I'd never trust my father, but at that moment, I knew he was right. Whether he did it or not to hurt my father, Danny Conner had done the worst thing he could to his lover. He'd left him with a lifetime of guilt.
My father looked at the gun. He twisted his hand until the gun lay flat like the watch in my own hand. He stared at it as if he couldn't figure out how it had gotten there. “Oh, God. He'd hate me. He'd hate who I've become.”
I took a step toward him.
He shoved the barrel of the gun my way again. “Don't move!” His hand trembled. He jammed the gun in the air. “I cannot give up after everything I've done to get here. Don't you see that? I can't have lost everything for nothing.”
“But you have.” I gave up on the gun and looked at my father. “You can't control everything. You don't know everything.”
He glared at me and raised the gun higher. “What are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about how you'll never be president.” I took a step closer. “You'll never be anything ever again.” Another step. “Including my father.” Step. His finger twitched over the gun's trigger.
I removed the small listening device from behind my ear. I let the smile of victory tell him what I held.
“You aren't the only one with connections. My friend Walter owns this wonderful technology company. They create all sorts of gadgets, undetectable shit to pick up the smallest sounds. He has a few friends in the police force himself, as well as the FBI. Would you like to meet them?”
That was the prearranged signal to let the agents know I was ready on my end. If they'd gotten what they needed, it wouldn't take long. If I could keep him distracted long enough...
His nervous gaze darted around the room. The fingers holding the gun squeezed around the handle.
Please don't let them lose me like this.
I fixated on the gun's barrel. One more step.
My hand rose before I'd decided what to do. At an inch from the gun, I met his stare again. A swell of tears filled his eyes. Mine met a similar fate.
I covered the last fragment of space between my fingers and the gun in a slow creep. I gripped the barrel and lowered it.
My father let his hand move. If he'd wanted to, he could have fought me on it, kept the gun pointed at me. And of course, he could have fired.
The gun dropped lower and lower. His shoulders slumped, and the furious, determined look disappeared, replaced with a vacant one.
When he spoke, his voice was neutral and possessed no emotion. “The moment I saw you fucking that boy in your dorm room I changed. That's when I lost everything.”
“No. It was when you took away every ounce of love from yourself that you lost it all.”
He blinked. A lone tear fell to his lapel. “Danny.” The misery of that whispered name sounded all too familiar.
The FBI forced their way into the house from every possible angle. My father recoiled two steps before they were upon him. They collected the gun and wrapped handcuffs around his wrists. His head hung low as they read him his rights and hauled him toward the door. Two other officers escorted Barry Fowler out behind my father.
An agent talked to my mother in the hallway. She nodded as the man spoke, but she never looked away from me. Tears overflowed with each blink of her eyes. When the agent stopped speaking, he led her out of the house.
I stared at the open door.
Sweat clung to me everywhere. I felt dirty, grimy, sick. I wanted to go home, jump in the shower, and wash it all away. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep until morning.
Was I welcome?
A soft hand landed on my shoulder. Walter stood beside me.
“No matter what you were expecting, it isn't supposed to feel good to help get your own father arrested. But this isn't your fault. He has to live with the choices he made.”
“I guess we all do.”
“Move past this and live your life.” He gave me a slight shove toward the door. “Your men are waiting in an unmarked van down the street. I suggest you go to them. They were quite insufferable. The FBI let them listen in, and I think that made it worse.”
“They came?”
“They called me last night. I arranged it so they could be here.”
I cringed. Knowing they'd heard it all was a relief, but they'd heard my father's threat to kill me. I pictured three FBI agents holding Richard back from storming into the house.
I gave Walter a nod and made my way to the door. I stopped short of leaving. “Thank you. For everything.”
“I told you they'd be good for you.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah. But I'm your friend. I'll only be an ass in ways that won't hurt you. You can count on it.”
“I will.”
The rain had stopped, and the dark sky had lightened with the passing of the storm. A droplet of rainwater dripped onto my head. I glanced up. Another drop leaked from the gutter above my parents’ stoop and hit my forehead. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and descended the steps.
Several police cruisers and unmarked vehicles lined the street. Traffic was blocked off. News vans and camera crews were setting up. Police officers and FBI agents were filing around the yard, moving in and out of the house, searching for any evidence to substantiate my father's confession. Their work wouldn't be over any time soon.
But it all felt over for me. Finished.
I had shoveled the last bit of dirt over my relationship with my parents.
Chapter Forty
I spotted a van with dark windows a few houses down the street. Would Richard be as angry as he'd been in the FBI offices? Would he be able to forgive me for taking on my father?
The back door swung open, and Matthew and Richard leaped onto the sidewalk.
I stopped a few feet from them. Richard's green eyes held my stare.
We didn't move. We didn't speak.
I had done what I needed to, but I wanted nothing more than to go to him, to go home with them, to make love to them.
Matthew's gaze swung between us. I couldn't look at him. Even if I couldn't read Richard's expression, it would all be visible on Matthew's face. I'd see how they had spent the last two days— if they'd spent them talking or arguing, angry or afraid. I'd see how close I was to losing them.
Richard moved fast and grabbed a hold of me before I could take one step to meet him.
He crushed me against his chest. “I'm sorry.” His breath flowed through my hair with his words. “I never should've left. I'm an ass when I don't get what I want.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “You're just figuring this out?”
Matthew laughed. He stepped closer and slipped his arms around us. His dark eyes lit up, delight shining in them again.
Richard huffed. “I didn't really figure it out.”
“No?”
“Not on my own. Matthew's pretty smart. He explained a few things to me.”
I gave Matthew a kiss. “Thank you.”
“You two are the most stubborn men. If I wasn't here— ”
Richard cut him off with a kiss. “Don't even say that.” Then he planted a long, slow one on me. “Come on, Luke. Let's go home.”
I relaxed into their embrace, the fear, the anxiety, the anger washing away.
A car drove by, my mother watching us from the backseat. What was that look? Anger? Criticism? Sadness?
It didn't matter. I was where I needed to be, and Richard and Matthew had me, held between them.
Richard drove home from the FBI field office and broke every speed limit to get there. I sat in the front seat with his hand on my knee. Matthew hadn't bothered with the backseat. He'd climbed in front right after me. He kissed and petted me as Richard drove.
The FBI had kept us at their office for three hours to answer questions and give statements. And I wasn't finished yet. I'd have to return the next day for an interview with an agent from Washington. I didn't care. I was headed home with Richard and Matthew. It was more than I thought I'd have when the day started out.
When we got inside the house, Richard grabbed Matthew and me by the arms and led us upstairs to the bedroom. He pulled me tight against him. Our mouths connected in a scorching kiss. Our tongues wrestled as heat passed between us. I whimpered, the sound lost to his mouth.
“I need you,” he said. “To feel you. To love you both.”
“Oh God. Me too.” Matthew plastered himself to my back. He licked and nipped at the base of my neck. His hard cock pressed against my thigh. I rocked into his touch, my hips unable to remain still between them.
Richard tugged my shirt out of my pants and shoved it off. His strong hands stroked my chest. “Get undressed, Matthew.”
Matthew stepped away and began stripping.
Richard's lips traveled across my chest. He dipped his hand inside the front of my jeans, and his fingers moved over the tip of my cock, teasing me. I threw my head back and bucked toward his hand, wanting more, needing more. I threaded my hand through his blond hair as his mouth worked lower and lower.
Matthew's naked body returned behind me. He wound his arms around my waist. He ripped open my jeans and shoved them down past my hips. Richard dropped to his knees, and his lips replaced his hand over the head of my dick.
I gasped. “Oh God. I need this, need you both.”
“We're here for you,” Matthew whispered.
He worked my jeans off my body and kissed me, his tongue strong and constant in its affection. I shuddered, clutched, rocked into the touches. I needed them to show me I was still there with them.
Between Matthew's kisses and Richard's burning mouth, my body lost control fast. I gripped Richard's shoulders and my legs shook. I didn't want to come yet.
He stilled my hips and pulled off my cock. He kissed my balls and stood. “Get on the bed, Luke.”
I didn't want to let go, but I needed more of them. I rolled onto my back and enjoyed the vision before me. Matthew stood on his toes, leaning against Richard's naked, muscular frame. Their mouths were joined in a kiss. It was a sight I'd never tire of seeing.
When they parted, Richard spoke in Matthew's ear. Matthew closed his eyes and whispered back.
Richard took a step away, his legs a little unsteady, adoration shining in his eyes. He turned Matthew around and gave the smaller man a slight shove toward the bed. Matthew laughed and made his way to me.
“What did he tell you?” I asked when he was eye level with me, his body flat atop mine.
“He said... ” Matthew kissed me, the connection electric, intense. “I should love you forever.”
“Oh.” I lowered my gaze.
He put a hand on my chin and lifted my head. “I told him I'll love you both for the rest of my life.”
“Matthew.” I wrapped my arms around him and slid my hands down his back to the tight curve of his ass. His body drew closer. We touched at every point possible. “You saved me,” I said. “You know that? You and Richard. I'd still be lost if you hadn't picked me. When I saw you at the club that first night, the desire was strong. I wanted, needed, to be with you. I still feel that every time I see you.” He bit his bottom lip. I kissed him and swiped my tongue over the teeth marks. “Make love to me?”
“Yes.” His head dipped and he kissed my neck, his tongue laving my skin. “You were the first man at the club who let me top. Four years, and no one asked. I knew then you were special.”
I laid a hand on his cheek. “Kid, you're the one who's special. You and Richard. You let me in even when I tried to run away.”
A low chuckle rang out beside us. “I'm glad you haven't forgotten about me.”
“Like we could ever forget you.” I squeezed the back of Richard's neck and brought his mouth to mine. Full of passion and promise, the kiss solidified how much I could never forget him.
Matthew slid over Richard until he was pressing atop us both. We traded kisses and touches until I pulled away and asked Richard, “What do you want?”
“I want to feel you inside me, and I want Matthew to top us. Let him drive you into me.”
Matthew groaned and pushed his pelvis against us.
Richard leaned his forehead on mine. “I think he likes the idea.”
“It's a good idea,” I said, overcome, the ache in my chest not one of pain or loneliness but a reminder of what they meant to me.
Matthew laughed.
I stared up at him. “I don't think tops giggle.”
Richard shook his head. “No, they don't.”
Matthew laughed again. I bucked up under him. The move rubbed his balls on my thigh. He quieted his laugh and moaned, his head thrown back. Once I stilled under him, his look turned deliberate. “Get the lube, Richard.”
“Such a bossy top.” Richard gave Matthew a kiss and rolled to the nightstand.
“On your knees, Luke,” Matthew said.
“Oh God.” Hearing him take the lead in bed drove me crazy. My body shook as I scrambled onto my knees. He steadied me.
He licked my shoulder and moved lower and lower until his tongue dragged over the top of my crease.
I arched into the contact. “Please, Matthew. More. Need more of you.”
Richard settled beside me.
Matthew's tongue left my body. I whimpered, the sound desperate, on edge.
“On your knees, Richard.”
Richard didn't hesitate. He knelt beside me. “Kid, you're driving me crazy talking like that.”
