Sacha

 

The trip out to the airport was uneventful. The other drivers seemed to sense Sacha’s heavy mood, slowing down and pulling to the right as he approached. Or it could have been the roar of his engine as he gunned it down the two-lane road behind the airport property.

The terminal was like every other small-town airport Sacha had ever visited. The exception was the 5’8” pissed-off man waiting for him at the curb outside baggage claim. Sacha didn’t have to get out of his truck to know Parker was out of sorts; he wore his moods like clothing. Sacha had no idea what he could have done to irritate him after so many years.

Leaning across the cab, he pushed the passenger door open. “Get in.”

Parker picked up his bag and tossed it into the truck bed before climbing inside. “Nice, the first words you bother to say to me in years aren’t ‘Hey, Parker, I missed you,’ it’s a grumbly ‘Get in.’”

Parker had more lines on his face; his hair was a little less blond, his body lankier than Sacha remembered. He still had the grace of an athlete, though, which was evident as he climbed into the truck.

“Damn, Sacha, why do you have to drive these monsters? They make me feel like a toy human,” Parker groused.

“How was your flight?”

“Horrible.” He pouted. “I had to sit next to someone who took their socks off, and their feet smelled like tuna fish.”

“Buckle your seat belt.” Sacha pulled away from the curb, sliding into the traffic leaving the airport.

The snick of the buckle engaging reached Sacha’s ears. “Yes, Mom.”

“Why are you here?”

“Do we have to talk about this now? I’m tired and hungry.” Not irritated, then; hangry.

“I’m staying with a friend; tell me now or tell the both of us.” Why he would threaten Parker with Seth made zero sense. It was like threatening Parker with a kitten.

“I can stay in a hotel.” Parker looked out the window instead of at Sacha, his shoulders now slumped and tense.

“Bullshit, Seth already made space available.”

Still looking out the passenger window, Parker asked, “Who’s Seth?”

The million-dollar question. He wasn’t sure how to answer it. Was he anything, yet? Did he need a label for what they were exploring? He settled on, “A guy I’m staying with while some work is being done on my building.” He immediately felt like shit for downplaying what was happening between the two of them. Even though he was practically a caveman, he knew it was more than nothing.

“Your building.” Parker paused and glanced over at Sacha. “A guy. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Fuck if he was going to talk about fucking anything. Parker could take his talk and shove it—

“I can tell when you’re thinking asshole thoughts inside your head.”

The rest of the drive from the airport to Seth’s house was made in complete silence. Sacha couldn’t see how this was going to go. Things with Parker historically went sideways.

Seth’s front door was still open when they arrived. What the fucking hell was with that? Was Seth really clueless that this neighborhood was not great? Creeps lived right up the street and would be perfectly happy to waltz in and fuck up his shit. He slammed the truck door, the sound ricocheting across the street, before stomping up to the house, ready to give Seth a piece of his mind. Parker trailed along behind, probably thinking Sacha had lost his marbles. Which he had.

He stopped short at the sight of Seth through the open door, causing Parker to smack into Sacha’s back.

“Jeez, give a guy some warning,” Parker groused.

Seth was in his tiny kitchen with the music player on, cutting vegetables or something while moving to the beat, dark hair pulled back out of his face in a sort of artful tangle. He’d showered and changed into a pair of thin cotton sweatpants, which clung to his butt as he danced.

Parker cleared his throat, looking around Sacha. “Like that, is it? I wondered. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“What?” Then, deciding denial would get him nowhere, he added, “Fuck off, Parker,” using his most threatening growly voice. Because, no, he had never actually come out to his foster brother. Between one thing and another, Sacha’s sexuality had never been up for discussion.

Seth heard them over the beat of his music, and he grinned as they walked in. The force of his smile was a velvet slap in the face. “Hi, I’m Seth. You must be Parker. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.” He walked forward to shake Parker’s hand. “Sacha, put his things in your room.” He turned back to Parker. “You need a shower? It’s not the best, but it does the job.”

Sacha pointedly ignored the raised eyebrows from Parker. Regardless of the years since they had seen each other, Parker knew that Sacha did not take direction very well. Or at all. Fuck that; he was trying. New fucking leaf or something. Picking up Parker’s bag from where he’d dropped it, Sacha stomped into the tiny bedroom.

Seth’d put on a ratty T-shirt while Sacha was following directions. Thank fuck. Bad enough Parker was here, with his knowing glances and mocking smile; he didn’t need Seth parading around half naked. Thankfully, Parker opted for a shower, giving Sacha a few more minutes to collect himself and prepare for the inquisition.

The already-small house was going to feel like a sardine can with the three of them here, and it was too fucking hot. Sacha didn’t know what was going to happen. Between the distraction known as Seth and whatever was going on with Parker, something was going to give. Collapse, more like.

“So, Parker?” Seth interrupted his wandering thoughts.

He quelled his irritation at Seth’s question. The man was, after all, generous enough to offer a place not only to Sacha but to his semi-estranged/deranged foster brother as well. “I haven’t had a chance to question him yet.” Like he was a suspect or something.

“Did you piss him off already? That was quick.”

Sacha grinned, because Seth did have his number. “Maybe. But he’s pretty good at pissing me off too. Always has been.”

“I imagine that’s not very hard.”

“Fuck off.” There was no heat behind his words, though. He leaned against the kitchen counter watching Seth work.

“See?” Seth returned to cutting veggies and sliding them onto skewers before laying them on a cooking sheet and brushing olive oil, or something, over each one. There were burger patties laid out as well. “Does Parker eat meat?”

“Hell, yeah,” said the man in question.

“Fuck’s sake, Parker, can you not?”

“What? And miss a chance to see you get all riled up? I haven’t taken that quick of a shower since you and Mae-Lin played the trick on me with the garter snake.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t bring that up again, we fucking apologized. We had no idea they actually bit. It’s not like it was poisonous.”

“You put a snake in the shower. While I was in it. You still owe me. And they are in fact poisonous.” Parker emphasized his point by jabbing his index finger against Sacha’s chest.

Seth had stopped prepping and was doubled over laughing. When he got himself under control, he chuckled, “This is going to be awesome.”

This was so not going to be awesome. And if Parker thought Sacha had forgotten he’d travelled across the country to include Sacha in his Big Drama, he had another think coming.

 

 

By mutual agreement they headed out to the backyard, where Seth had the grill going. Sacha ended up sitting between the other two men. Seth dragged over a wooden bench to use as a setting spot for their plates and beers. It was much more pleasant than inside the tiny house. With all the windows open to relieve the heat, Sacha was having to put aside some of his misgivings about the neighborhood. The family parking their car, for instance, was probably merely that: a family parking their car.

Parker had bulked up a little over the years. As a kid he’d been chubby, and then in high school, when the bullying began, he got way too skinny. He was wan under his tan, though, the lines on his face exaggerated as the sun began to set, and dark circles lurked under his eyes.

Tired or not, he looked like he took care of himself, which, Sacha supposed, he’d been doing for at least ten years. Sacha watched as Parker mowed through a huge burger and helping of vegetables while they enjoyed the slightly cooler evening temperature.

As if reading his mind, Parker remarked, “Is it always this hot here? I thought it was supposed to be cold and rainy.”

Sacha’s mouth was full. Seth answered, “This is my first summer here. I’m from Scottsdale. This winter was brutal. I’ve never been somewhere it rained every day for literally months. I’m not complaining about the heat.”

Swallowing, Sacha added, “Last couple summers have been pretty hot.” Seth’s sharp gaze jerked over to him, his eyes narrowing. Sacha replayed what he’d said. Ah. Fuck. “I was here on assignment,” he mumbled. He watched Seth tuck the information away and wondered when he would be on the receiving end of an interrogation.

“Assignment?” Seth prodded.

Parker put his plate down and leaned forward to peer around Sacha. “Yeah, the US Marshals. You know, like that old movie, The Fugitive.”

“You’re going to be a fugitive if you don’t shut your trap.” Sacha enjoyed Tommy Lee Jones, but that fucking movie drove him crazy. In fact, all cop shows drove him up a wall. When he watched TV he preferred stuff like House Hunters, but there was no way he was telling these two.

He’d been so careful, keeping his worlds separate. It occurred to him that that wasn’t going to be possible any longer. Maybe he didn’t care enough or have the energy to keep things in their tidy little cubbyholes. The reasons why he’d distanced himself from Parker were gone. The reasons why he hadn’t allowed himself the kind of relationship he yearned for, also gone. A gaping hole where he used to hide… was waiting to be filled.

“No Parker, keep going,” Seth quipped.

They both laughed out loud, a wholesome sound that reverberated across the yard. Something he hadn’t heard much. Sacha was mildly irritated, but also flattered that Seth was curious enough to pump Parker for information.

“Seeing as the information I get is secondhand because he cut me off for years, I can’t guarantee any of it is still correct.”

Human trafficking cases and witness relocation were low on the list of subjects Sacha cared to chat about.

“So, Parker, the time has come for you to ’fess up. What has you fleeing the East Coast, giving Mae-Lin enough of a sob story that she told you where I was? What’s going on with you and that roommate of yours?”

Parker shifted in his seat. Running his hand through his disheveled blond hair, making it stand on end, he took a deep breath. Sacha braced himself.

“Quit stalling. And don’t even think about leaving anything out,” he snapped. “If we’re going to figure whatever this is out, I need all the facts. What hornet’s nest have you disturbed this time?”

“Okay, so, I left Zeke, kind of.” Parker’s voice was quiet.

“Kind of?” He sent up a quick prayer for patience. “You either did or didn’t. Pregnant, not pregnant.”

Parker squinted at him. “You know we can’t do that, right?”

“Quit trying to avoid the subject. Which is you right now, and why you’re here.”

“I got tired of Zeke’s bullshit, ghosting me when it wasn’t convenient to have a boyfriend. Then when he was lonely, or what the fuck ever, he acknowledged I existed.”

There was more to that part of the story, but it could wait.

“It was stupid, I know, but I was fed up. All my friends spent so much time warning me and then saying ‘I told you so,’ acting like they knew everything and never messed up.” He sniffed, and Sacha wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tight. “Sometimes, you know, you don’t need that kind of response, you need someone to say, ‘Hey, that’s fucked up, let’s get drunk and plot his death.’ Not really, you know; imaginary.” He twisted to look at Sacha.

“Yeah, I know. Keep going.” Parker snuggled into him.

“So I packed my shit, but the only place I could think of to stay was his boat. I borrowed the keys. I was only going to stay there a night. Two at the most. I needed to think about stuff.”

“What is a cop doing with a boat?” Cop salaries were not that good.

“I don’t know. He’s had it as long as I’ve known him. He said something about family,” he said bitterly. Regardless of Parker’s front, he was still smarting from what had happened between himself and Zeke. “Anyway, I was asleep on the boat. I didn’t bother having lights on—I wasn’t supposed to be there, right? I dropped my stuff and went to bed.”

Sacha hadn’t been paying much attention to the news, but even he’d caught the coverage of a huge marina fire in Florida. He’d been at the gym, maybe, and the newscaster kept talking about the millions of dollars in luxury yachts that had been lost. Some dot-com guy had his second boat stored there, and it had gone up like a Roman candle.

“Please tell me you were not sleeping on a boat berthed at that marina in Melbourne that burned to the fucking waterline a while back.” Sacha had a headache, and his brother hadn’t even been in Skagit an hour.

Parker hunched further inward and whispered, “Uh. Yeah. Can’t do that.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. The footage from the fire had been horrifying. The fire had been huge, with flames reaching thirty feet and higher into the inky darkness of a Florida night. Fuck, he could have lost Parker forever and this cringe-worthy moment might never have happened. He thanked whatever deity he needed to for his little brother still being alive.

Seth broke the silence. “Anybody else for another beer? I know I need one.”

“Bring out the whole pack. I’m going to need more than one. Please,” Parker asked.

Seth disappeared inside, taking their dinner plates with him. Sacha heard the fridge open and him rummaging around. Silence settled over the backyard like a blanket. He heard the fridge door shut and Seth’s footsteps fading further into the house.

“So, Seth, huh?” Parker nudged Sacha with his knee.

“Do not try to redirect.”

“I’m not; I’m glad for you. I’ve always thought you were lonely. He seems like a nice guy. Different from the macho Marshal types.”

The things Parker got him to talk about. Probably why he’d avoided him for so long.

“Have you always been into guys? Or both? Any women?” Parker tilted his head. Trust Parker to go for the jugular.

“A couple. No one worth changing my life for.”

They could hear Seth doing something in the kitchen again, pouring chips into a bowl, maybe.

“No one cares anymore. Not really,” Parker said into the darkness.

“I know.” It was Sacha’s turn to rub his hands on his face, wanting this conversation to be over but needing it so badly. “It’s hard.”

Parker snickered. “In all seriousness, it’s not that hard. You make everything harder than it should be. He likes you; kiss him already and see where it goes. I don’t think he’ll punch you for it.”

“You’ve always been out, Parker.”

“Yeah, not by choice,” he muttered.

“True, but I was never out; it was much easier for me to hide. And I’m learning it’s a hard habit to break.”

No way was Sacha going to tell him what they had already done, that Sacha’s world had already changed for the better. He hoped. It was hard to change a lifetime of ingrained hiding and subversion. Probably it was partially his personality, but almost everything he’d experienced in life added to his innate need for self-protection. Until Seth, there’d been no reason to try.

“What’d I miss?” Seth had a six-pack in one hand, a plate with some cut-up cheese and apples in the other. “Just a sec, lemme grab the crackers.” Sacha watched as he climbed the three steps into the kitchen.

“Jesus, if you don’t do something you’re going to explode. Maybe I should kiss him for you?” Sacha whipped around to glare at Parker; fucker had a knowing smirk on his face. “I bet I could make it good for him, even though he’s not my type.”

Seth returned, plopping crackers on the small side table and handing beers around before sitting back in his lounge chair. He stretched out his long legs and looked expectantly at Sacha and Parker, eyebrows raised. Grinning, Parker chuckled, and Sacha groaned inwardly, sending up another prayer for patience. “Shut it, kid,” he grumbled.

Parker picked up where he’d left off. Although there wasn’t much more to the story, unfortunately it was the important part.

He’d been asleep when he smelled the smoke, and awoke confused and disoriented but alert enough to know he needed to get out of there. When he heard terrifying pops and crackles getting closer and smoke began to pour into the cabin area, he cut his losses and ran as fast as he could. He’d barely managed to escape with his backpack and the clothes he was wearing.

The marina went up fast, because nothing burns like boats with tanks full of fuel as an accelerant. The fire burned so hot engines couldn’t get close, and even the fireboat was restricted. Parker ran and didn’t look back. The next day, when the fire was all over the news, he learned there had been a body floating amongst the burned-out fiberglass shells of the yachts… a body that was apparently connected with the de Vega crime family. It was a good thing Parker had never been struck by lightning; he would absolutely be one of those people it hit twice.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it!” he protested, seeming to know the path along which Sacha’s mind had wandered.

“Zeke seemed pissed and worried, apparently. Mae-Lin talked to him when you didn’t call her.” Sacha waited a beat to see if Parker would realize what he’d forgotten.

“Fucking fuck, I missed her birthday.”

“I already got her the shoes; you’re going to have to fork out for the bag.”

Sacha noted Parker’s lack of reaction to the fact that his ex-boyfriend still seemed to have some kind of emotional investment. He wondered if Parker really understood what it was like to be an out gay cop. Every day worrying and wondering if, when push came to shove, the people you needed most would have your back. If instead they would help put you six feet under. There were places he’d heard weren’t so bad, but Sacha himself couldn’t have done that. He could relate to Zeke, and that’s why he’d never pursued anyone before. It wouldn’t have been fair.

“Busted. Anyway, he had no idea where you had gone. Why come here?”

“It’s far away from the East Coast,” Parker mumbled. “I need time to think, I guess, get away from everything.”

“I get that, I do, but does everything have to be so fucking dramatic with you? Couldn’t you have had an adult discussion with Zeke? Instead, as usual, you react and get yourself involved in a fucking arson and probable murder—and then you flee the scene so you look like you have something to hide. And, by the way, although I am shocked that Mae didn’t say anything, I retired, so if you need help getting out of a jam it’s going to be a little harder.”

“You retired?” Parker squeaked. “I mean, that’s great.”

Seth piped up, “We could call Adam, see if he can find something out.”

He’d been so quiet Sacha had mostly put him out of his mind.

Sacha narrowed his eyes, a slippery half-thought trying to make itself known. “Adam?” There was only one Adam in town Sacha knew, but it was a relatively common name.

“Adam Klay, Micah’s boyfriend. My half-brother. He’s not a Marshal, he’s a Fed.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Adam fucking Klay. Right. Because of course Seth was Adam’s half-brother. The two men did look similar, now that he knew. He should have known; fate liked her little jokes.

“Parker…” Sacha looked over at one of the few people he considered family. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

Parker cast a tragic glance at him. “I dunno. I’m sorry I’m useless. Everything I do ends up in a big clusterfuck.” He sniffed. “I’m tired of feeling like nothing matters, like I’m inconsequential, with nothing anybody wants.”

This was the Parker who really scared Sacha. He could handle the dog rescuer, signing on to be a summer nanny only to discover the parents were swingers and tried to include him in their fun and games, or the accidental accountant for the mob… but a defeated, scared, hopeless Parker, that’s the one who always got him in trouble. People looked at Parker—slight, cute boyish looks, blond hair usually cut in a kind of party-boy style, and thought he was simple, easy.

“The first thing we have to do is reach out to some people and see what the authorities aren’t telling the media. We need someone to talk to your boyfriend—”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

Sacha waved a hand. “Whatever. I’ll make some phone calls… and yeah, I should probably reach out to Klay.” He ran his hand through his short hair, tugging on it painfully. “Fuck. First, Parker, I need some answers.”