“You know damn well I could pay you.”
“I know. That’s why it’s an option, but it has a downside.”
“What’s that?”
“Your uncle, or whoever it is who set this up. The problem for you is that they want you dead, and the problem for me is that they’re a loose end. I don’t like loose ends. I don’t leave loose ends. Plus, they’ve kind of pissed me off today.”
“It’s my uncle, Asshole. I know it. He tolerates me, he gives me whatever I want and hardly ever complains, and you knowthattakes some doing. He’s been running the company since my dad got sick. He can’t do enough for us, but I know people and that man can’t stand me. He couldn’t stand my father either. He was jealous. He’s been biding his time. I know hate when I see it, even when it comes with a smile. I could see it in his eyes ever since I was a child.”
“Give me a sec and I’ll look into him.”
I head into the house and hit my laptop. Damon walks down to the bank of the lake and sits on one of the chairs out there, he doesn’t move except to pull on the shacket when he can’t stand the cold anymore. Now that I know what I’m looking for, it only takes me a couple of hours to find that he’s right. It’s his uncle, Peter Beckett, who wants him dead. He’s hidden his tracks well.
He’s good. I’ll give him that, but I’m better.
“You were right. It’s him.” I take a seat opposite him at the edge of the shore.
He fixes his eyes on me. His expression is calm and controlled, it gives me no indication of what he’s going to say next. “Don’t suppose you know anyone who’s in the business of, how did you put it,taking care,of something like this?”
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d think this is an option, but it does. His life has been pampered and cushy as fuck. It usually takes a lot more time, and several more doses of reality, for people to resort to exploring this option. He takes a cautious sip of his wine. It’s a decent Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. From Hawkes Bay. His favorite region. The best I could find in a pinch. It cost me seventy-five dollars. He squeezes his lips tightly and swallows hard, as if he’s suffering greatly by being exposed to such plonk. I shouldn’t find it amusing, or attractive, when he does it.
But I do.
“Hmph. I could rustle up a name or two, sure. The thing is, if you pay someone to take care of something like this, there’ll be a trail. There’s always a trail. For the rest of your life, no matter where you go or what you do, there’s always going to be someone who has something on you. Something big. Something that could destroy you.”
“What if that someone was you?” he says sweetly.
“And why would I do something like that for you?”
“I mean, there’s the small matter of reparation forkidnappingme. God, I’ve suffered so.” He places the back of his hand on his forehead and sighs dramatically. When he’s sure he has my undivided attention, he squirms in his seat, biting his bottom lip and looking faux contrite. Textbook flirting. I’m usually immune, but I’m not at the moment. “Plus,” his manner changes from sex to ice in a flash, “I know some terrible things about you, Asshole. Some big, bad, murder-y things.”
He squirms again, wriggling his hips very deliberately. It makes me think of his ass on the seat. A perfect peach, ripe and bright red, the last time I saw it.
Fuck, I lit him up good.
I loved it. I didn’t know if I would, I’ve thought about it before, but I’ve never been moved to try it. God knows if anyone in the world deserves it, it’s him. Turns out, I liked it. I fucking loved it. I spend so much time trying to hide and tame the monster inside me, it felt good to let it out. Especially like that. Especially on someone like Damon. Someone who looks straight into the eyes of a monster without flinching and seems to say, “I see your monster and I raise him a demon.”
I watch him move in his seat and wonder if he can still feel it. I wonder if his cheeks are still hot and pink. I wonder if his dick is hard like it was earlier. Mine is. Mine’s hard and thick just from sitting ten feet away from him. I can’t see his dick because of the shacket, and suddenly I miss it. Imissit. I miss the gray sweatpants that don’t hide a thing. I miss the easy access and I miss having my hand in his pants.
I glance at my watch. “It’s only been ten hours since I saved your life and you’re already resorting to blackmail.”
“I was unconscious for three of those hours, or I’d have done it much sooner.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
He smiles at me. A well-practiced smile. It’s perfect. Symmetrical. Big, shiny, rich boy teeth gleam. Seductive lips curl. The light of the moon bounces off cheekbones so high, someone’s bound to write a song about them someday, if they haven’t already. His eyes are like ice. Cold. Calculated.
Maybe it’s the morning I had, or the fact that his uncle truly has pissed me off. Maybe it’s the afternoon I had with him, or the fact I’ve been drinking. I’ve had one and half beers, so it shouldn’t be enough to alter me but maybe it has, because right now, I feel good and kind. Generous, even.
“Leave it with me. I’ll handle him.” He looks pleased and not in the least bit surprised. “You know what it means though; you don’t mention me or the kidnapping to anyone. Never. No part of it. If I go down for any of it, I’ll take you down with me.”
“Deal,” he says without giving the matter a second’s thought, as if it’s a joke.
“This is a big deal, Damon. I’m not an easy man to find. In fact, I’m almost impossible to find. The people who do find me are serious. Fucking serious. When they pay me, they know what they’re buying. They know what I am. They know what it means to cross me. Your uncle is dangerous. He’s dangerous to both of us. But we’re still talking about a human life. Dealing with it might not be as easy as you think it will be.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “You might struggle with it after it’s done. It’s on me though, okay? Me taking care of him is on me, not you.”
“What? You think I’ll feel guilty?”
His perfect smile fades. He gives me a real one instead. One that’s not for the cameras. One that isn’t perfectly symmetrical or anything resembling sweet. A real smile, meant only for me.
