6
The devil is in the details.
Killian rubbed the towel in his hair as he swiped his hand across the steam-fogged mirror in his bathroom. He stared at his reflection and frowned. He hated the sprinkling of gray hair that had gradually appeared over the last few years. He shrugged it off. He was in peak physical condition, regardless of his age. He had a few scars on his body, but nothing that would reveal his occupation. Except for the almost two-decade-old gunshot wound on his chest.
His mind wandered with the rhythmic rub of the towel against his scalp. Recalling that night, a few months after his father’s death, when he had accepted a contract for some asshole who was selling drugs on the street corner to kids. In the spirit of capitalism, the guy who had hired him was pissed the dealer was cutting into his market and wanted the guy gone. Killian wanted a drug dealer off the streets, especially one who took pride in hooking kids on his crap.
That contract was a win all around.
That night he had spotted his target.
That night he had a plan.
And that night, he had disregarded the man he had seen twice within a ten-minute span of time.
He glanced back at his reflection in the mirror, his mind returning to the present and the scar on his chest. A reminder of why he needed to train so hard and never disregard a single detail. Being careless gets you killed.
He pushed off the sink and hung the towel to dry. He walked into his bedroom and stepped into the closet, grabbing one of his shirts and suits. His mind raced through a million different arguments as he dressed. Maybe, instead of going to the restaurant, he should stay in tonight and grant Nick some space. Nick hadn’t said yes, but technically, he hadn’t said no. Sitting in a different area might be the answer. That way, he could stay close while still granting Nick some distance without forcing him to tend to his table. Leave the ball in Nick’s court. Let him be the one to take the initiative if he wanted to approach Killian.
Killian scoffed at himself. Who the hell was he kidding? He couldn’t sit back and watch Nick dish out smiles to other customers and not to him. And there was no way he could stay away.
Resigned, he walked out of his bedroom and into the living room. He flipped off the lights and grabbed his keys from the small table and headed toward the side entrance to the garage. He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and paused.
He sighed, still holding on to the doorknob. Finally retreating to the living room, he plopped himself on the couch. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. The keys jingled in his hand as he spun them around his index finger just as fast as the wheels in his head.
He should stay in, not push. After all, he had promised he wouldn’t. But the need to be around Nick, feel his calming presence, and see his smile…it was too much.
I wish I could say yes.
Killian closed his hand, catching the spinning keys in his hold.
He never hesitated with his thoughts or actions. And yet, there he was, refereeing a battle between desire and logic—a feud between his heart and mind.
Killian ducked his head and closed his eyes, letting a deep exhale ease the tension in his body. He could fight any man and win, his track record had proven that fact. But his training hadn’t prepared him for Nick, or this struggle.
He scoffed at his weakness and how it had clouded his reason.
Never disregard a single detail.
He wasn’t a fool. He hadn’t ever felt this way about another man. Ever. And that was a detail Killian refused to ignore. It was the most relevant detail. There was no struggle, battle, or war. The end game became clear. He wasn’t walking away or giving up. Strength and reliability were some of Killian’s strongest traits, but so was his relentless nature.
He hadn’t survived this long by giving up.
And he wasn’t giving up on Nick or this fire sparking between them.
═ ☼ ═
Nick shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled down the sidewalk. His boss had given him a later start time to his evening shifts for the week, a courtesy after managing the catering event and restaurant over the weekend. But the perk reduced his schedule to only a handful of nightly hours, giving him far too much time alone with his thoughts. He was anxious to get to work, hoping the distraction helped settle his mind.
As usual, he allowed himself plenty of time before his shift, wanting to enjoy the sights and sounds during his walking commute. It also gave him some time to change things up should anyone follow too closely. If the prickling at the back of his neck commanded his attention, he would casually glance over his shoulder or feign window shopping at one of the storefronts along the way. Life had taught him the importance of details. Both in good situations, and in bad ones.
And he had already learned how being in the wrong place at the wrong time could yield negative results.
Turning the corner, he casually glanced over his shoulder. Since the catering gig over the weekend, he hadn’t been able to shake the unease that someone had been watching him. He cut through the alley to his left, straying from his usual route.
Tonight seemed…different. Almost quiet. He didn’t take comfort in silence anymore.
You’re being paranoid.
He hunched his shoulders as his heartbeat sped, unable to shake the worry looming over him. He refused to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. He picked up his pace, briskly walking along the rear side of the businesses along the strip. The occasional glance over his shoulder giving him the needed confidence no one followed.
Weaving through the parked cars at the back of the neighboring businesses, he emerged through the narrow alleyway between buildings across the street from the restaurant. A tiny smile pulled his lips when he had reached his destination without any surprises.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he memorized the make, model, and color of each parked car as he waited to cross the street.
He glanced at the restaurant entrance. The smile faded and the muscles in his shoulders instantly tensed. He immediately retreated back into the narrow alleyway between the buildings from where he had emerged.
Nick flattened his body against the concrete wall as flush as possible, his chest heaving as he stared at the two figures talking to Vicky. One of them pulled something from his jacket and extended it toward her. A paper or photograph? He was too far to determine which. She shook her head, looking stressed, definitely shaken. He couldn’t blame her.
Fear slowly gripped his throat. The dark suits, thick bodies, and unmistakable bulges under the jackets… all familiar signs he couldn’t ignore. He pushed his head back against the concrete, closing his eyes and trying to fight the rising bile.
Shit.
He couldn’t run the risk. He immediately backtracked, speed-walking through the alley in the darkness, retracing his steps. He had to get back to his apartment. He hurriedly walked down the sidewalk, taking cover in the shadows where possible and changing up his usual path.
Reaching his apartment building a few minutes later, he climbed the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He glanced down the empty hallway then raced down to the door of his apartment. The shake in his hand slowed him down, trying and failing a few times to insert his key before finally unlocking his apartment.
He threw open his closet door, reaching the top shelf and grabbing his backpack. His go-bag containing cash and another semi-fake name to start over again. He’d probably have to update the photos, but at least they offered a starting point for a do-over. His stomach tightened as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He was so damn tired of running and looking over his shoulder.
He didn’t have time for the woe-is-me pettiness. He shook the melancholy thoughts from his mind and pulled a few items from his drawers, shoving them into the backpack. He zipped the bag and slung it over his shoulder, looking through the door’s peephole before racing out into the hallway and down the stairs. He exited through the rear entrance of his building and sped down the sidewalk, ducking into shadows whenever possible.
The weight of the backpack slowed his step the farther he walked.
Ian.
He didn’t want to leave.
He couldn’t leave.
He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on the strap over his shoulder. The thought of never seeing Ian again was a lead weight in his belly. And Nick didn’t want him to think his absence was a way of avoiding his advances. Nick reached up and desperately clutched the talisman under his shirt, rubbing the edge of the metal, seeking the comfort and stability it provided, begging for some guidance.
A sign.
Something.
Anything.
Nick headed back toward the restaurant. He’d wait out those men and find a way to leave Ian a message with either Tracey or Vicky. After the way Nick had pushed Ian away, he figured there was a chance it was a wasted effort. Ian didn’t strike him as the type of guy who would stay where he wasn’t wanted.
But he also didn’t strike Nick as a quitter.
There was something special between them, and Nick refused to have Ian think he had been unaffected by it. A note, a goodbye. A written, I would have said yes under different circumstances. It would come to him when his mind was clearer and his heart didn’t beat as if it were trying to rip through his chest.
And maybe…just maybe he’d be lucky enough and fate would send Ian to the restaurant tonight. That way, Nick could steal one more look at the man before leaving. He’d memorize every line and curve as best he could before disappearing again.
Nick blew out a shaky breath, fighting the emotions threatening to bubble to the surface as he found a good hiding spot in the alley between the buildings across the street from the restaurant. It gave him enough of a vantage point to see the entrance, and the streetlight that had been blown out for the last few months offered the cover of darkness he needed while waiting.
He scanned the parked cars, comparing them against his memory from thirty minutes ago. The only change, a black luxury sports sedan with dark-tinted windows had parked in the spot next to his hiding place. He guessed it was likely a new restaurant patron since it had obviously arrived after he had run back to his apartment.
There was a chance the henchmen were still inside, waiting. Unless they had parked down the street, out of sight. Either was a possibility.
Nick glanced at his wristwatch. He’d wait an hour. That should grant enough time for service should they have chosen to stay for dinner. Nick couldn’t risk a larger window of time. Waiting any length of time at this point was dangerous.
He’d busy himself in his hiding place, using that time to plan his next destination. He didn’t have a clue where he wanted to go but staying wasn’t an option if they had found his place of employment.
And if, for some reason, he didn’t get a chance to leave a message for Ian, he’d leave with an ache in his heart and know it wasn’t meant to be.
═ ☼ ═
Something was wrong.
Every hyperaware nerve in Killian’s body was on alert and ready to attack. He scanned the dining area filled with laughing families and smiling couples, assessing each person and determining their threat level. Vicky radiated tension as she led him to his seat, dropping the menu on the table with a nervous half smile and returning to her spot at the podium in the waiting area.
Killian opened the menu, using his peripheral vision to continue his assessment. The prickling traveling his skin served as a warning, one he knew better than to ignore.
Never disregard a single detail.
Two men sitting in the corner seemed out of place. They really needed to work on their blending-in skills. He focused on them, memorizing every trait.
Killian spotted Tracey walking toward him, her shoulders tense as her gaze slowly shifted to the same two men. She finally stood by his table and forced a smile.
“Hi, I’ll be your server this evening.”
He stared into her eyes, commanding her to remain focused on him. “Where’s Nick?” he asked, pitching his voice low.
“He never came in,” she responded almost in a whisper, her gaze casually shifting to the side. “They were looking for him. Well, not him. They were looking for Mr. DeMatto but Vicky said the picture they showed her was of Nick.”
Killian had done his research before his second visit to ensure the restaurant hadn’t been a cover for any shady business. Mr. DeMatto had owned the restaurant for years, as had his father before him, and all business remained aboveboard. “What did she tell them?”
“She said that wasn’t Mr. DeMatto.”
Smart response. Technically the truth so if these two guys could read a lie, they wouldn’t pick up on her tells. “The photo they showed her. Could she tell where it was taken or if it was recent?”
Tracey nodded and swallowed heavily. “She said he was wearing a tux. The same one he wore on Saturday when he had stopped by the restaurant to make a run for the catering event.” She fidgeted with the pen in her hand. “It’s not like him to be late. He never misses work. Something’s wrong.”
“Where’s Mr. DeMatto?”
“He’s in his office…at the back of the restaurant. He won’t come out until they leave.”
Fucking coward. Killian lowered his brow and clenched his teeth. “Let me guess.”
“It’s not what you think.” Tracey shook her head. “If Nick didn’t show, he believes there’s a reason. He’s worried if he comes out and says who he is, those men will leave. He’s trying to buy Nick some time.”
Killian cocked his head. Nick’s boss knew far more than he cared to reveal to his staff. But Killian wasn’t going to second-guess things. Mr. DeMatto’s motives were clear: protect Nick any way he could.
“I don’t even have a number or address for him. He keeps to himself outside of work.” Tracey was fidgeting far too much. He had to end this before she gave him away.
Killian folded his napkin and stood. It was a good thing Mr. DeMatto had kept the two guys in the restaurant. He didn’t have a way of getting a hold of Nick, but he could tail these two men and go from there. The two men kept glancing at their watches. They were getting antsy, so Killian assumed they wouldn’t hang around much longer. “Please don’t take personal offense to this, but I’ve lost my appetite.”
Tracey nodded, her gaze absently shifting to the side again. “If…” She hesitated, twisting the pen in her hand. “If you do know where Nick is, please tell him to be careful. He’s a good man.”
“That he is.” Killian nodded and turned to walk out of the restaurant, angling his body to hide his face from the men in the corner. Remaining unidentifiable to these two was imperative. Especially if they became his targets for hurting Nick.
Killian pushed out the door and looked both ways before crossing the street to his parked car. He scanned the other vehicles on the block, quickly comparing them to the memory of vehicles present when he had arrived. Nothing had changed since his arrival about fifteen minutes ago.
He gripped the driver side door handle and every hair on the back of his neck rose, alerting him. Reaching inside his jacket, he wrapped his fingers around the butt of one of his guns. He channeled his senses, hearing every tiny change of sound in the air. He slowly swept his periphery, capturing every subtle shift in the shadows.
A faint, barely audible inhale and exhale came from the alley next to his car.
Drawing his gun, he aimed it into the darkness as his eyes adjusted, hoping to catch sight of his target.
“Ian.”
Killian’s heartbeat spiked. Only one man called him by that name. He instantly aimed his gun upward and away from Nick, then tucked it back into the holster. He glanced over his shoulder back at the restaurant, making sure the men hadn’t walked out at that precise moment.
He returned his attention to the darkness of the alley, willing Nick to break through the shadows. A moment later, Nick stepped forward, the moonlight faintly accenting his features.
“Get in the car.” Killian pulled open the driver side door and slid in the seat. He started the engine and turned his head to the right, lowering the passenger window. “Do you trust me?” he asked when Nick hadn’t taken a step forward.
Nick nodded, looking between him and the restaurant entrance.
“Then get in the car.”
Nick chewed his bottom lip as he repeatedly glanced between the car and restaurant. Finally stepping forward and opening the door, Nick slid into the passenger seat, hefting a large backpack on his lap.
Killian grabbed the bag and placed it in the back behind the passenger seat. “Buckle up.” He raised the passenger window again and pressed the button to lock the doors, guarding his precious cargo. He pulled out of the parking spot and slowly drove down the street, making a note of the license plate of the only out-of-place car before working his way onto the highway. He’d check the plate and hope that would link back to the two guys in the restaurant and who they were.
“Ian, I shouldn’t be here.”
“With me or right outside the restaurant with those two guys looking for you?”
Nick leaned his head back in the seat and clutched at his chest. “Both. Either. I don’t know anymore.”
“You were about to run. Weren’t you?”
Nick opened his eyes and tilted his head toward Killian. “I…couldn’t.”
Killian switched his focus between the road and the man headlining his every dream and twisted fantasy for the last few months. The fear and worry screamed from his green eyes. But pushing through the panic, in his gaze there was a rebellious streak of determination fighting to break free.
Killian bit back the bubbling rage, trying to cage the preternatural fury begging to be unleashed to crush whatever and whoever dared hurt this man. Killian reached over to the glove box and withdrew a phone. “Call your boss. Tell him you’re fine but you won’t be coming back.”
Nick shook his head. “I can’t. They’ll trace—”
“It’s a burner. If you don’t make the call, they might go after him.”
Nick quickly grabbed the phone and dialed a number, but didn’t initiate the call. He held the phone to Killian. “Ask for Mr. DeMatto. Say you’re interested in discussing the catering for your daughter’s baby shower.”
So now he was old enough to merit grandfather status? That stung. “Why?” Killian glanced between the road and Nick.
“Vicky will answer the phone and her poker face sucks. She’ll recognize my voice. And if those guys are still there, she’ll get nervous.”
“And you don’t think she’ll recognize mine?”
“Not based on a thank-you or no said through a grunt.”
Killian lowered his brow, grumbling as he took the phone and hit send. He made a mental note, adding getting-bossed-around-by-Nick to his fantasy checklist. He played his part. Well, sort of. He chose to play the role of big brother for a nonexistent sibling’s upcoming nuptials. Definitely better than the alternative which just punctuated the age difference between him and Nick. “Who am I speaking with?” he asked when a male’s older voice came through the line.
“This is Mr. DeMatto. Who is this?”
Killian handed the phone back to Nick. He quieted as he heard the one-sided conversation, still able to make out the faint tinny sound of DeMatto’s replies and the worry in his tone.
“Yes, I’m safe. I promise.”
Killian’s pulse sped at the confidence in Nick’s tone.
“Thank you for everything.” Nick ended the call and set the phone in the cup holder at the center console. He leaned his head back and sighed. “You’re crazy.”
“That’s one of the rumors.” Killian glanced in his rearview mirror to ensure no one followed and switched lanes, exiting the highway and taking backroads for the rest of his commute.
“And just in case you’re wondering…” Nick waited for him to look his way. “Grandfather status doesn’t make you old.”
He grunted. Yeah, sure.
A weak smile touched Nick’s features. “I like the gray.”
It was a good thing he was sitting behind the wheel and focused on getting to their safe haven. Otherwise, he’d have a hard time fighting the supernatural urge to pounce on the man and prove just how virile he was.
Nick sighed. “You’ve just put yourself in danger because of me.”
“No. They have.”
Killian twisted his grip around the steering wheel, vowing to seek and destroy every man who dared hurt Nick or instill this level of fear in him. There was no turning back now. Nick hadn’t voiced the yes Killian craved, but there had been an unspoken surrender the moment he had stepped into the car. Regardless of how long it took to ensure his safety, there was no way Killian was ever letting him go.
═ ☼ ═
Exhaustion started to weigh on him.
Nick had no idea where they were, but he hadn’t seen a car follow for quite some time. He struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting the sleep trying to pull him in. Ian had driven south, but everything else was too dark to distinguish other than a small two-pump gas station they had passed about ten minutes earlier.
He looked out the window, trying to make out some of his surroundings with the barely there hint of moonlight. Houses…or structures, he wasn’t sure which, but there were large distances of land between them. It was obviously secluded. And had he been with any other person in that moment, he’d have been worried about meeting his maker at the hands of some serial killer. Instead, Nick felt safer than he had in the last two years. And that was simply because of the man quietly driving them to their destination.
A few minutes later, Ian slowed, turning onto a narrow, unpaved road. The car shifted from side to side and the tires crunched on the gravel as they continued along the dark and solitary drive.
“We’re here.” Ian turned into a driveway and made a wide turn around the house. He reached up to the rearview mirror and pressed a button, triggering the garage door to open.
“Where’s ‘here’?”
“My place.” Ian drove in and waited until the door closed behind them, securing them in the safety of the now sealed garage.
Nick stepped out of the car and opened the back door to grab his backpack. He slung it over his shoulder and followed Ian through the small door that opened to a narrow hallway leading into the living room area.
Ian tapped the dimmer switch on the wall, and the room slowly became brighter. Nick squinted when the brightness grew, marking how tired his eyes were. Ian adjusted the light, reducing the glow from the bulbs above. “Is that better?”
Nick nodded. “Sorry.”
“You’ve had a stressful night. It’ll catch up with you soon enough.” Ian took the heavy backpack from his shoulder, instantly relieving the burden on Nick’s limbs. “I’ll give you the full tour after you get some sleep. But this is the living room and there’s the kitchen,” he said, pointing to each.
The house wasn’t large, but it certainly wasn’t small. Nick imagined most people would assume Ian lived in some plush high-end mansion or penthouse somewhere with black, gray, and silver decor. Gated security, private entrances, and tall, big windows with even grander views.
After all, Ian wore designer suits, Italian shoes, and had a luxury car.
But in the last few months, Nick had paid attention.
Details.
Ian’s house in the boonies with a worn green couch and a beaten wood coffee table might seem odd to others, but to Nick, the mystery of the house suited Ian perfectly.
He followed Ian down the hallway, struggling to keep his eyes open.
“You can stay in the guest room.” Ian opened the door, encouraging Nick inside with a sweep of his hand.
The bedroom was large, far larger than he would have imagined considering the smaller living room. The room was functional and basic in its decor. One queen-size bed, dresser in the corner with a chair, and a small table at its side. He looked to his right at a door leading to an en-suite bathroom.
“You have your own bathroom,” Ian said in confirmation. “Sheets are clean. I just switched them out last week.” He set the backpack on the chair in the corner.
Does that mean he recently had a guest here? Nick sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of exhaustion. He was too tired to let the spike of jealousy take root. How was he going to do this all over again? He had spent the last two years hiding, looking over his shoulder, being careful. And yet, they had found him.
He stood by the bed, staring at the plush comforter, lost in thought. He didn’t know what he could have done differently. He was tired of running, tired of hiding. He was just…tired. He closed his eyes, sensing Ian’s presence behind him. In that moment, he didn’t need to hold his talisman for its comfort, the safety and warmth Ian offered far exceeded anything the cold metal provided.
“Say yes,” Ian whispered.
He fought the ripple of desire, sensing Ian taking a step closer. “I wish I could.”
“Then say it.”
The heat of Ian standing directly behind him pulsed in waves, beckoning him to lean back into the hard wall of muscle. “I’m a man with no future.”
“That’s my line.”
Nick cursed the hand fate had dealt him, wanting nothing more than to surrender to the desire coursing through him. “I come with a lot of history and a few problems. More than I can deal with and a hell of a lot more than what’s fair to throw on someone.”
“That’s still my line.”
A tiny smile pulled at Nick’s lips. For all of Ian’s intensity, there was also playfulness in the brooding man. And he suspected this was a side very few, if any, had a chance to witness. Nick turned, inhaling sharply when Ian stood barely an inch away. His pale blue eyes filled with enough need to make Nick’s heart slam against his chest. With the undeniable desire staring back at him, there was also immense restraint, evident in the way Ian remained firmly in place, without a single twitch or fidget. Nick could lean forward and easily rest his head on Ian’s shoulder, one of the benefits of being close in height. He could close his eyes and surrender to the heat and safety he’d find in those strong arms. But he wanted it all without that veil of control Ian always held solidly in place.
Nick took a deep breath, tearing his gaze away from that ice-blue intensity, hoping to settle his nerves. “Thank you,” he whispered, fighting for control of his own body and words. “For your help. For…tonight.” Against his better judgment, his gaze swept back up to the man’s eyes, unable to fight the pull connecting them in a mysterious way.
Ian stared back at him, something shifting in the depths of the pale blue. Understanding? Ian took a step back and visibly swallowed. He stopped for a moment, as if debating. He finally took another step back, then another until he stood on the threshold of the room. “If you need anything, my room’s next door.” He paused for a moment, as if letting the meaning behind his words sink in.
Nick nodded and held his breath until Ian closed the door behind him. Nick fell onto the bed as the strength evaporated from his body. He toed off his shoes and pulled the covers back, sliding between the sheets, not having the energy to undress.
Tucking his hand under the pillow and pushing his head into the soft material, he nestled into the bed, on his side, staring at the wall separating them.
He should just give in and enjoy the little time he was destined to have in this life. If they found him once, chances were, they’d find him again. Fate was funny that way. It seemed as if people were chess pieces in the game of life, and some master player moved the pieces toward their destiny.
There was comfort with Ian, and a sense of safety he hadn’t felt in so long it was almost foreign. He stared at the wall and reached up to wrap his fingers around his talisman.
Fate had spared him once before. Maybe she’d have mercy on him again.
He had survived another day.
But he couldn’t help wondering when the day would come when surviving would no longer be enough.