The moment Peter had walked into that bar and seen John sitting there, looking like the Fourth of July in the middle of winter, he’d felt the sting of those three long years without the beta compounded. The explosions of need and lust and hunger like he’d never known for another made it hard to think straight, while the world carried on around him like nothing had changed.

John hadn’t changed at all. He was still as charmingly scruffy and unassuming as ever. He still wore that dusty old beige trench coat over a suit he’d never bothered to get tailored. How many times had Peter lectured him about at least putting in an effort not to look like a private dick out of some cheesy film noir?

Not that anyone in the know would think a guy who looked like that actually did what he did, so maybe it was a good disguise, after all. Hiding in plain sight.

Peter found himself drawn toward the other man by a force beyond his control, the same force that had overcome him nearly five years earlier, when he’d first laid eyes on John within the crosshairs of his sniper rifle. He’d had a clean shot on the beta then, and ten-K wired into his bank account with the rest pending on him deciding to take it.

Instead, he’d climbed down off that rooftop, stowed his gear and stalked the man he was supposed to kill to some hipster coffee shop downtown. Back then, he hadn’t really had a plan and he still didn’t. He’d always known, even before he’d found out the beta’s name, that John was his and he had to do whatever it took to protect him, as hard as he insisted on making it to do that job.

Yes, Peter had always known he would do whatever it took to protect John, even if it meant staying out of his life for good.

That was the old plan, at least, and it had worked up until he’d received that call. A warning from an old friend that an even older one was being released from prison that week, and that five years of arts and crafts certainly hadn’t softened his resolve on going after Peter and the one man who could be used against him.

John didn’t know, of course. He still thought the client he’d caught Peter with all those years ago was his lover, and the Alpha let him, because as much pain as that lie had caused them both, it was nothing compared to the consequences the truth would bring.

John was a good man. He’d had enough trouble falling asleep in the arms of a man he thought worked as a glorified thug for hire. How the fuck was Peter supposed to tell him the truth about what he really did? That he earned his living by taking human lives and had since before he was old enough to drive?

He’d been doing it for so long that he’d never gotten the chance to start feeling guilty about it. He had his standards, but they were more a force of habit than a matter of morality. John had turned the black ice of his soul to sludge, made him feel shit a man like him had no business feeling and wasn’t equipped to handle. Keeping him at a distance was the only way Peter had known to keep him out of it and that was clearly a shit plan, so now, all he had was this.

A moment, a meeting, a second chance he didn’t deserve to convince the love of his life—a gift that wasn’t his to take, no matter how much his fingers itched to unwrap John right here, right now in front of every fucker at that bar—to let him do what he should have done from the beginning. To take John as far away from this shitty little town he’d run away to for God only knew what reason and disappear with him. From the life, from the States, from everything.

“Well?” John demanded, taking another sip of his beer. “You asked, I’m here. You could at least tell me why.”

“Right.” Peter cleared his throat. He hadn’t actually figured out how he was going to break the news to John that he had to leave behind everything he’d built in New York. Rehearsing the perfect line had never worked, since all it took was one look in the beta’s eyes for all his best-laid plans to go awry. “The truth is, I came here because you’re in danger.”

He laughed. “Of course I am.”

“I’m serious. There are things you don’t know, things about my past that have made things…complicated.”

“Uh-huh. Well, the things I do know about were pretty straightforward and you were never interested in sharing your past with me while we were together, so I’m not sure why you’d start now.”

“Just listen to me. Please, John.” He forced his voice to soften, to plead when it was so accustomed to commanding.

John frowned, but he stared thoughtfully into his mug and grunted a halfhearted acknowledgment.

“You think you know what happened three years ago, but you don’t,” Peter began, deciding to start with the lie that had driven them apart by his own design, since it had all unraveled from there. “That omega you found me with, she was a client, nothing more.”

“A client?” He scoffed. “I’ve seen a lot of low-life loan sharks, Pete, and they don’t tend to be pretty young omegas who wear pearls and cashmere sweaters. They also don’t tend to meet their henchmen in high-rise hotel rooms.”

Pete. God, it had been a long time since the beta had called him that, and it sounded good, even if there was venom on his lips. Peter decided he could survive a little poison if it meant getting to taste those lips one more time.

“I lied about my job. And the affair,” he admitted. He could see the disbelief in John’s rolling eyes and knew if he didn’t talk faster, he was gonna get half a mug of stale beer in his face while his second chance walked out that door. “She really was a client, but my work is a little more involved than shaking down scum that can’t pay their debt.” He glanced over his shoulder, realizing the bartender was too close for comfort. “Can we go somewhere a little more private to talk about this?”

“We talk about it here or nowhere. Take your pick.”

Peter set his jaw and breathed deep, which proved to be a mistake—John’s scent was as intoxicating as it ever had been. Supposedly, only the scent of an omega in heat had that effect on an Alpha, but John had always been the exception to everything else. Why should his scent be any different?

“There’s shit I still can’t say without putting you in danger. Shit you wouldn’t believe if I told you. All you need to know is that there’s an old friend of mine who’s getting out of prison on Friday and you’re the first person he’s gonna come after.”

“Me? What the hell would he want with me?”

Peter looked around again. The bar was getting crowded. “I can’t tell you. Not here.”

John watched him through narrowed eyes, finally muttering something Peter couldn’t make out under his breath. “I took a cab here, so you can give me a ride home. You’ve got about sixteen minutes to make your case.”

“Fair enough.” Peter stood, laying out enough cash to cover their drinks and a tip. John shot him a dirty look as he reached for his own wallet and tossed another bill on the counter out of spite.

So that’s where they were. Not as bad as he’d assumed, since John hadn’t punched him in the face the moment he’d showed up.

Once they were both inside the jet black muscle car Peter had recently finished remodeling, John scowled. “I see you’re still into putting enough money into junkers to buy a new sports car.”

Peter smirked, pulling out onto the road. “It’s a classic.”

“Just finish your little story about your old friend and why he’s any of my concern after you cheated on me.”

“I told you, I didn’t —“ Peter groaned, deciding to take it one step at a time. “Okay. For starters, I don’t work for the mob.” He hesitated. “Well, sometimes I do, but it’s not a full-time gig.” He glanced over at his passenger and realized he was losing him. “I’m a hitman, John.”

The beta stared blankly at him. “A hitman?”

“Yeah. You know, ‘wire the money into the account and you won’t have a stalker to worry about come Tuesday.’ That kind of thing.”

John snorted a laugh, turning to look out the window. Peter could see his face in the reflection as he shook his head. “If this is your attempt to explain away the affair, save it. I’d have more respect for you as a cheater.”

“That’s part of why I never told you. I knew what you’d think if you found out,” he muttered. He could feel John watching him and when he looked over, there was doubt in the beta’s eyes.

“You’re serious.”

Peter gave a brief nod, keeping his eyes on the road. He couldn’t bear to see John looking at him that way. The look on the beta’s face that night, when he’d been so convinced he’d walked in on the betrayal of their relationship, had been enough.

“Fuck, Peter. You kill people?”

“Bad people,” he added quickly. “People who won’t be missed.”

Or at least, that had become his standard once he’d started seeing John. He wished the only voice in his head that could be called a conscience didn’t belong to the beta, but it was probably the only thing that had kept him sane over the years without him.

“Still people,” he seethed. “You still kill people for money, and you never thought that was something you should mention when we were together?”

“The less you knew, the safer you were. Besides, I knew this is how you’d react.”

“How I’d react? I’d say I’m pretty fucking calm for someone who just found out he slept next to a murderer for hire for eighteen fucking months of his life.”

Peter winced. Whenever John’s voice got shrill like that, the Alpha knew he’d fucked up. “You have every right to be angry. To hate me. I just think you should hate me for the right reasons.”

John fell silent, but Peter knew his mind was going a mile a minute. He made connections fast, and as much as Peter hated knowing how dangerous his job was, he was damn good at it. The Alpha was a cut above the philandering husbands John usually spied on when it came to covering his tracks, but the beta had still managed to get the jump on him.

Peter had simply realized he was being followed by his boyfriend before John could realize the truth, that he wasn’t leaving in the middle of the night because of an affair but because of something that was much worse, if the look on the other man’s face was any indication. Setting people up and coming up with convincing alibis was just part of the job, and Peter was the best at what he did, but he’d never thought he would have to use that skillset against his own mate.

“That woman…who was she?” His voice was hollow, monotonous.

“Her name was Jenna, and she paid me to kill her husband. He was stalking her, trying to get custody of the kids based on a drinking habit she’d kicked ten years ago. He beat the shit out of her every weekend, and he was starting to take his anger out on their daughters, but he had rich parents and she couldn’t divorce him without losing everything, including the kids..”

“So you killed him and what, divvied up the insurance policy?”

Peter shrugged. “She knew my rate going in, I took deferred payment. The ones who can pay cover the ones who can’t.”

“And that makes you what, the Robin Hood of death? It’s okay to kill for money as long as you’re profiting off the death of scumbags?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Eighteen years, give or take.”

“Eighteen?” John’s eyes widened and Peter could tell he was doing the math. “Since you were fifteen years old? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” He decided not to admit to John that fifteen was just when he’d started getting paid for killing, not the age at which he’d taken his first life.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with any of this? Why are you telling me now when you were willing to let me walk away and think you’d been fucking someone else for the last three years?”

“Like I said, I thought I was keeping you safe. I have enemies, not just the guy who’s coming after you. It was naive at best for me to think I could have you without them using you to get to me. At worst, it was just selfish.”

John fell silent for a minute before asking, “And who is this guy?”

“His name is Lake Kristoff. He’s been in the life as long as I have, and there was a time when he was like a brother to me.”

“So why does he hate you? And why the hell would he think I matter enough to you to be fodder for his revenge?”

Peter chewed the inside of his lip, knowing he had to tread carefully with this bit. “Remember that coffee shop where we met for the first time?”

“Sure. Rosa’s. I had an overpriced scone and they got my coffee wrong,” he muttered, folding his arms. “It also happened to be the beginning of the biggest mistake of my life.”

Peter flinched. He knew he had that coming and then some. “That wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Creed DeLuca. Ring any bells?”

He frowned. “Sure. That asshole who was cheating on his wife with her brother. I heard karma took him out not long after that with an accident at one of his factories.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t too happy about you poking around his business. He took out a hit.”

John’s eyes went even wider. “Are you saying you were sent to kill me?”

“I’m saying I had the choice between killing you and killing him. I chose to give karma a hand.”

“Why?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because my life changed the moment I saw you through the coffee shop window from the rooftop across the street,” Peter murmured. “Lake saw it, too.”

“Don’t,” John gritted out. “Don’t say what I think you’re about to say, just because it’s been three years and you’re hungry for a stroll down memory lane.”

“I imprinted on you, Johnny. I know it’s rare, but it —“

“Stop the car.”

“Babe, come on, don’t be like this.”

“I said stop the fucking car!” he seethed in a guttural voice that probably would have intimidated anyone else, Alpha or not. As Peter pulled off on the side of the road, staring at the enraged man struggling to free himself from the belt in his passenger’s seat, he realized he was even more in love with John than he had been then.

Three years had changed everything, but it also hadn’t changed a damn thing.

The moment the beta managed to unbuckle himself in his rage, he flung the door open and got out. “Where are you going?” Peter called out the window. “It’s thirteen degrees out!”

John ignored him, stalking along the side of the road. Peter cursed under his breath and put his hazards on before getting out of the car. The last thing he needed was to get his ass pulled over. He hadn’t hadn’t gotten a spot on his record since he was a teenager, but this was supposed to be an in-and-out deal and he wasn’t eager to stay in upstate New York any longer than he had to. Most of his get-out-of-jail-free connections were in LA.

“Would you get back in the car?” He asked, quickly catching up with the irate beta.

“We’re five minutes away from my place, I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

Peter got in front of him to block his path. “Just get back in the car and let me take you home.”

“Fuck you.” He moved to the side, and when Peter blocked him a second time, he gave the Alpha a hard shove that accomplished little. John was strong, stronger than most betas. Peter would give him that, but when it came to holding his own against an Alpha who actually knew how to fight? He didn’t stand a chance. If reminding him of that was what it took to get some sense in his head, so be it.

“Doesn’t have to be like this, Jonny.”

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed. “Three years. Three fucking years, and you come back now to drop all this bullshit on me?”

“I’m sorry.” And he was. He’d been little else for those three long years, but even if it hadn’t been for Lake’s release from prison, he knew he would have given in eventually. One look at John was all it had taken to realize that he just didn’t have the kind of strength it would take to stay away from him forever, even if it was what was best for him. “I know I fucked up. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I’m just asking you to let me protect you.”

“How?”

“If I can find you, so can Lake. Let me take you somewhere safe until I can take care of it.”

“And by ‘take care of it,’ you mean kill him. The man you call a brother.”

“I said he was like my brother, once upon a time. That was before he crossed my mate.”

“Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth, his lip curling back in the sexiest snarl Peter had ever seen. “Don’t you dare use that word.”

Peter shrugged. “Fine, but it’s the truth.”

“Fuck your truth, and fuck you. I’m not going anywhere with you, and I’m not going to be part of your bullshit life.” He stalked over to the car and got in, slamming the door behind him. “When we get back to my place, I’m going to go inside and make sure you’re gone. If you’re not, I call the cops in five minutes.”

Peter sighed. Well, at least he was in the car.

He decided to keep his words few as John gave him directions to an apartment complex in a neighborhood Peter wasn’t at all thrilled about him living in, but he knew better than to comment on it right then.

John got out of the car and to Peter’s surprise, he turned around and leaned through the window. “For the record, you can tell your buddy Lake that if he’s got a problem with me, he can come find me when he gets out. I’m in the phonebook, that’ll make it real easy for him. In the meantime, you need to leave me the hell alone.”

And with that, he disappeared into the crumbling building and slammed the front door behind him.

For a second, Peter argued with himself over what to do. He could either force John to go with him now or take a more slow handed approach over the next few days, giving him time to cool off. He was still deciding when he saw John open the blinds in the upstairs window, holding a phone to his ear, and realized he hadn’t been bluffing about calling the police after all.

Peter pulled out of the lot with a heavy sigh and decided to find a place to stay for the night. There was always tomorrow.