8
Magical talismans and pancakes.
I want my Bobo.
The gunshot didn’t make much noise. Nothing like the ones in the movies Mommy and Daddy watched at night when they thought he went to bed.
“You’re too young, Nico.” It was the same thing, over and over again, whenever he wanted to watch the movies with them. “Little boys don’t watch movies like that. They give you nightmares.”
Those movies were noisy, with lots of cool guns, cars, fires, and bombs blowing things up.
But these two men were quiet.
He didn’t think the quiet could be scary. But the quiet scared him more than seeing the blood on his uncle.
Nico rocked back and forth in the closet, trying to be careful with the sling on his arm. He peeked through the crack between the doors as the bigger man lowered the gun and hid it back inside his jacket, just like the bad men did in the movies. The big man stared at Nico’s dead uncle. Maybe he thought Uncle Rudy was faking it the way people did on Halloween to scare the kids so they didn’t get more candy. Nico screwed his eyes shut, wishing he had his teddy bear—Bobo always protected him.
But Bobo hadn’t survived the fire.
Neither had Mommy and Daddy.
The fire and bombs weren’t cool anymore after that.
A chill traveled his body when the big man spoke to the other one, his voice hard—not yelling, but in that same way that older boy from school talked, the one who used to beat up the other kids in the playground. Nico tucked himself away farther into the closet, hoping to hide in the shadows.
“Double-check the office. I’ll check the rest of the house,” the man said then left the room.
Nico’s body shook. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He had been hiding from his uncle and snuck into his office closet. He shouldn’t have gone into this room. He should have listened.
“Never go in there!” Uncle Rudy had yelled so loud that day that Nico’s ears had popped.
Mommy had always told him, “Never be a bad little boy. Bad boys get spanked.” She always said Karma would come and punish bad boys. Nico hadn’t ever met Karma and didn’t know if she was the principal from the new school he was supposed to go to or that grumpy old woman from their old neighborhood who lived in that big scary house, but he didn’t think there could be anyone worse than Karma.
Until he met his uncle for the first time when, a few weeks ago, he was sent to live with him.
Nico rocked himself, back and forth. He shouldn’t be here. He should have listened. Bad things happened in this room. And Uncle Rudy had already found all his other good hiding places. But he shouldn’t have broken one of his uncle’s rules. He was supposed to stay in the corner of the living room, where he slept at night on the bean bag chair. But his uncle had started yelling at him again. And after the yelling, Uncle Rudy would start throwing things and hitting him. Just like he had done before when he hurt his arm.
He moved his head from side to side, peeking through the crack between the doors, trying to get a better look. Nico’s heart beat faster as the other man opened each drawer, kneeling on the floor and checking under them for hiding places. Maybe he liked to play hide-and-go-seek too? He played “knock, knock” on the wood, then stopped and pulled out the drawer. He took out a piece of wood then pulled out a little book.
That was the best hiding place…ever. I wish I could hide in a small drawer.
The man put the drawer back in its place then slammed it shut with a whack.
Nico slapped his small hand over his mouth, trying to be quiet. The man raised his head and slowly stood. He looked at the closet door and waited.
He can see me.
Nico tried to be quiet but he started to cry. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking when the door opened and a flood of light filled the closet. He blinked up. All he could see was the man in shadows, without a face, and the light behind him.
He looked like he was glowing.
Nico’s mouth fell open and his body stopped shaking.
A dark angel.
Mommy said angels were real, but he hadn’t believed her.
The angel knelt in front of him. “Shhh,” he whispered. He reached out and pushed Nico farther back into the closet, closer to the back wall.
Nico jumped when a door slammed somewhere in the house. He didn’t know what the man was “checking” in the house, but if Uncle were still alive, he would be yelling at him.
The angel looked over his shoulder before turning back to him again. “What’s your name?”
“Nico,” he whispered.
“How old are you?”
Nico held up five fingers.
“How do you know that man?” the angel asked, pointing to his uncle in the chair.
“He’s my uncle. Uncle Rudy.”
The dark angel lowered his head and touched the strap of the sling on Nico’s arm. “Did he do this to you?”
Nico nodded. “He doesn’t like me very much. He says I’m a bad boy.”
“You’re not.” The angel turned his face up again.
Nico wished he could see him. But his angel had a shadow for a face.
“You don’t have to worry about him hurting you anymore.” He leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Can you keep a secret?”
Nico quickly nodded.
“You can’t tell anyone we were here. Okay?”
He nodded again. He could keep a secret. He knew plenty of them. “Am I getting punished? My uncle said I wasn’t supposed to be in here.” He held onto his arm in the sling. “I’m scared.” He tried not to cry, but Uncle’s punishments hurt.
“No one’s going to punish you. It’ll be our secret that you were here.” The angel dug his fingers under the collar of his own shirt and pulled his necklace off, sliding it over Nico’s small head. The necklace was cold against his neck and something heavy hung from it. The angel was close, but it was too dark to see much. He held something in his gloved hand. It must have been what was on the necklace because it felt lighter around his neck now.
“This will protect you,” the dark angel whispered. “It’s…magical. And it’ll keep you safe.”
Nico took it from the angel’s hand. He couldn’t see what it was, but it was really big and cold in his hand. Thick and heavy.
“You need to be strong and stay quiet. Okay?”
Nico nodded quickly.
His angel pulled a few of the shirts from the hangers as he kept looking over his shoulder.
One shirt, then another were placed over him as the angel reminded Nico to be quiet, not move, and not be scared.
Nico remembered what his mother had once told him, guardian angels come in different forms. His dark angel didn’t have wings and liked to give presents. Maybe he had other powers, so he didn’t need to fly. Hopefully his powers don’t disappear by giving me his necklace.
He buried Nico under a mountain of Uncle Rudy’s shirts before quietly closing the closet door again.
Nico screwed his eyes shut and held tightly to the heavy piece from the necklace, remembering every word his angel had spoken. He wished his eyes were covered too, but his guardian angel had told him he needed to know when it was safe to leave. So Nico needed to see, even though he didn’t want to. This will protect you. It’ll keep you safe. His hand was too small to wrap around the piece, but he tried. He pressed his thumb along the thick edge, rubbing it as if to call a genie who would grant him a wish.
I wish I was safe.
Nico peeked out of the crack between the closet doors when he heard a sound.
“Did you find it?” the big man asked, returning to the room, his voice harder, older than his angel’s.
Nico rubbed the magical piece again, trying to be strong and hoping to stay quiet. Hoping the piece granted him his wish.
His dark angel held up the small book he had found in the hiding place in the drawer.
“Good. Let’s go. Cleanup crew is on its way. They’re gonna torch the place.” The older man left the room, but his guardian angel stayed behind.
Nico moved his head from side to side, trying to get a better look out of the small opening between the closet doors, wondering what was happening.
His guardian angel stayed in the room, standing still. Waiting.
Why isn’t he moving?
“Let’s go!” The other man’s voice sounded far away, as if he were yelling from downstairs. The familiar sound of the front door slamming shut was quickly followed by the sound of a car engine turning on outside.
The dark angel walked to the closet and whispered through the crack in the door. “Nico, how high can you count?”
“Mommy taught me how to count to twenty.”
“Good. I want you to do that three times. Use your fingers each time you do so you don’t forget. Understand?”
“Count to twenty, three times. And I hold up a finger every time I finish so I don’t forget.”
“Good.” There was something soft about his voice, almost in that way Mommy would talk and smile at the same time. “When you finish, make sure the house is quiet. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” Nico whispered.
“Then I want you to sneak out through the back door, not the front. And I want you to run as fast as you can to one of your neighbors. Don’t stop running until you find a neighbor who will keep you safe. And don’t ever tell anyone you were here or what you saw. Can you remember all that?”
“Yes,” he said, rubbing the magical piece in his hand.
“Good. Start counting. One, two, three…” They counted together for a few more before his guardian angel ran out of the room.
Nico closed his eyes and continued counting in his head, making sure to time every number just right. When he finished counting the three times, he listened carefully. Once he was sure there wasn’t a single sound, he opened the closet door. He held the magical piece tightly in his hand as he walked around his uncle’s body, keeping his distance. He tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to stay as quiet as possible until finally sneaking out the back door and starting at a dead run in the dark night.
His heart pounded as he ran, holding the magical gift from his guardian angel tight in his hand while pressing the sling against his body. His throat burned with each breath as his short legs pushed through the night, running as fast as he could.
Nick jerked up in bed, his chest heaving with each breath as if he were still running through the dark night. He pressed his palm to his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart. He clutched his talisman through his sweat-drenched shirt, finally able to calm his rapid heartbeat.
He yanked off his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face and body. Oddly, this dream never scared him. Nothing like the nightmares that often stole his sleep. Magical or not, the talisman had spared him that night and had helped give him some sort of comfort through the years.
He held the talisman in the palm of his hand, just as he had done when he’d first received it. It looked smaller now. Funny how everything looked grander from a five-year-old’s perspective. He wrapped his fingers around the thick metal, sighing with the comfort that always came when he held it close as if it did, in fact, hold some magical powers. It had become his good luck charm over the years. The cool metal against his skin always soothed his mind and eased his spirit.
Years ago, he had learned it was made of titanium. It was different, unique in its design. He had wondered about its history, but he refused to research details and risk breaking a promise he had made that night. He would never reveal how he had gotten it, where he'd been, or who had given it to him. That was one secret he kept locked away in his mental vault and refused to ever voice. Regardless of design or composition, or whatever silly fantasy he had embellished in his mind from what had actually happened that night, this talisman was a reminder of a time when he had felt the welcoming comfort of a protective shroud.
When he needed to feel safe and protected.
It hung around his neck except during his surgical procedures back in Chicago. That night of the shooting, he had forgotten to put it back on before leaving the hospital.
Nick marveled at the way life played out.
He never forgot his talisman again.
He scrubbed his face with his hands and blew out a heavy breath, clearing his mind of any thoughts of that night. There was a faint click-clack sound coming from outside his room. Not enough to have woken him from his dream, but enough to pique his curiosity.
Sleep had evaded him for most of the night, but he had managed to get enough to feel more rested than usual. Between the last two years of stress and his life before—burning the midnight oil, double shifts, and the stress of wondering if he’d be taken away to another nondescript location—he couldn’t remember the last time anything more than a couple of hours sleep at any given time was even possible.
He took care of business in the bathroom and showered in record time. He ran his fingers through his towel-dried hair as he stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in a T-shirt and loose-fitting jogging pants, hearing the click-clack get a little louder to his left. He headed to the right toward the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee wafting in the air.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and smiled, staring at the perfectly folded sheets resting on the sofa’s armrest. Seemed Dex cleaned up after himself as well.
After they had settled in last night, they had finally had a normal conversation without quick comebacks or teasing. A running commentary about the accuracies of a television show representing the criminal underworld and the creative liberties Hollywood took depicting reality.
Well, normal conversation was up for dispute, but it was enough to reveal more hidden qualities between these two men.
The trust was evident as was Dex’s admiration for Ian. Dex had later confided how Ian had recruited him and rescued him from a dead-end job in forensics.
Literally.
Dex had laughed at his own pun.
Nick chuckled to himself as he sipped his coffee. Barring the dream, he hadn’t felt this relaxed in so long he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He could stay, but where exactly that entailed was the bigger question in his mind. Did staying mean he would remain in this house, never to leave the safety of these walls again? That wasn’t a life. It was a different type of prison. Definitely not one he aspired to live in. But the thought of leaving Ian pained his heart and weakened his defenses.
He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he had the answers to the million questions racing in his mind. Yesterday, in Ian’s arms, he knew that was exactly where he wanted to be. He just hadn’t figured out how to make that happen while keeping Ian and himself safe.
With enough rest and caffeine in his body to keep up with these two men, he rinsed out his cup and followed the click-clack sound through the house. He stopped at the doorway leading into the large exercise room. He had followed Ian there yesterday when the man had sought an outlet with the punching bag, but he hadn’t really taken the time to notice the various machines and equipment set up along the perimeter of the room. In the middle of the space, Ian and Dex dueled with two large sticks.
Nick leaned against the doorway, licking his lips as he watched the muscles flex in Ian’s arms and back. There wasn’t an inch of fat on the man’s body as each muscle bunched and stretched—the epitome of the lean, mean, fighting machine.
“Grip it tighter or you’ll hurt your wrist,” Ian said, blocking another strike.
“I’m trying to,” Dex said with a grunt. “But there’s this big, annoying jerk trying to kick my ass. Cut me some slack.” Another strike followed and another. Dex took a step back as he tried to block each hit, eventually cornering himself.
In a motion that was faster than anything Nick had ever seen, Ian crouched and swept the stick toward Dex’s feet, knocking him on his side and onto the mat.
“Dammit! How the hell do you always do that?” Dex rubbed the side of his head and scowled.
“How the hell do you always fall for that?”
Dex narrowed his eyes. “I’m the one with the puns.”
Ian shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve told you a million times, you need to pay attention to the shoulders and the shifts in body. Stop trying to think of what move you’re going to do next.” Ian extended a hand to his friend, lifting him off the floor.
“Well, it’s an unfair fight. Kicking ass runs in your bloodline.”
They both looked over toward Nick as if finally sensing his presence. It was obvious they felt safe in this house. A big grin spread across Dex’s face while a small smile tugged at the corner of Ian’s lips.
“How about a little match?” Dex asked. “We need to make sure you can defend yourself.”
Ian slowly turned toward his friend. “We?”
Dex stepped forward, ignoring Ian’s remark. “C’mon. I know I’m awesome but pretend I’m a bad guy.” He tightened his hands into fists and raised them to protect his face, egging Nick to join in.
Nick stepped into the room, pulling the string on his jogging pants to cinch the waist a little more.
If Dex wanted to play, then so be it. Nick hadn’t survived this long without learning a few skills.
═ ☼ ═
Killian refused to blink, riveted by the way Nick slowly paced a guarded distance from Dex—his green eyes assessing every inch of his opponent as his mind undeniably formulated a strategy on how to win.
Nick wasn’t fooling anyone with his prowl-like gait, circling Dex in a challenge. He had clearly learned a trick or two in his life, and it was evident the man's past held a few secrets.
I didn’t have a conventional upbringing.
No. Shit. Killian’s mouth parted, letting the breath slip in and out between his lips.
Dex stepped forward, swinging his fist and missing his target. Killian shook his head. The eager student was also very stubborn. He had told him a million times, never throw the first punch, mind-fuck your opponent.
Nick quickly jerked back, avoiding another potential strike.
“I have a feeling I’m going to get my ass kicked,” Dex said, huffing out a breath.
Meanwhile, Nick looked poised and in control.
Killian licked his lips. This was the side of Nick that called to him. The confident man with no fear in his eyes. The strong man with a wealth of resolve he stashed away under his polished demeanor.
“Are we play fighting or do you want me to actually hit you?” Nick asked, keeping a guarded distance with his arms relaxed at his side while Dex bounced on the balls of his feet like a boxer in a ring.
“Play fighting? Why don’t you just castrate me while you’re at it?”
“So you want to actually fight me?”
“You’re a doctor. You break me, you fix me.” Dex charged forward like a street thug, completely discarding any semblance to a boxer’s stance or textbook pose. Nick angled his body and took a single step in Dex’s path, elbowing Dex’s back with enough force to drop him to the mat. With a quick step back, he reverted to his guarded distance. Ready for the next contact.
“I think I got duped here.” Dex stood, opening his eyes wide and moving his head from side to side, shaking off the aftereffects of the strike. “I was trying to be nice.”
Killian chuckled. “That was a big mistake. Never underestimate your opponent.”
Nick glanced over to him, the confidence in his piercing green eyes was mesmerizing. A chill traveled Killian’s body, remembering the feel of Nick pressed against his chest and his fingers curled around his neck.
Dex lunged forward with the distraction. Nick raised his forearm and blocked a right punch, and then lowered his left arm to block an upper cut. He tightened his fist and jabbed a punch to Dex’s side, then slammed his open palm up Dex’s chin. He struck with another punch, then another until Dex managed to break free. Dex’s entire body heaved with the push of each breath, his eyes challenging, refusing to surrender to his opponent.
Killian slowly shook his head. The man was great at wiping a scene and not leaving a single speck behind, but he completely sucked at any sort of combat.
But his persistence was commendable.
Dex raced forward with a war cry just as Nick did a roundhouse kick and clocked Dex in the face, halting his momentum and knocking him to the ground, where he face-planted on the matted floor. Nick quickly mounted Dex’s back and wrapped his arm around his neck in a headlock.
“Uncle! Uncle!” Dex coughed, gripping Nick’s forearm around his neck while he tried to buck his body back against Nick to push him off.
Nick released him and instantly hopped to his feet, his body tight and his movements nimble.
Killian willed his body to remain calm, summoning every bit of control he felt begin slipping away. He focused on each inhale and exhale, finding a steady rhythm to cool the desire stirring his body.
“It’s a draw,” Dex said, coughing and rubbing his neck.
Killian held back a chuckle as Nick raised an eyebrow. “A draw?”
“Yeah, a draw. You wake up, all rested after sleeping in my bed, charged up, and ready to go. But I slept on his piece-of-shit couch then got up and fought a ninja with a stick for almost an hour.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Killian corrected.
“Whatever.” Dex waved them off. “I haven’t even eaten yet. I’m worn out. So yeah, it’s a draw.” He stood with a wince, gripping his midsection with one hand and rubbing the side of his face with the other.
Nick rolled his lips into his mouth as his body shuddered, holding back the laughter. He glanced over to Killian, the mirth in his expression contagious.
A swarm of butterflies invaded Killian’s stomach at that very moment. He turned toward his friend. “Why don’t you use my bathroom and grab a quick shower. Breakfast will be ready by the time you get out.”
“Will you make me animal pancakes? They always make me feel better.”
Nick was bent over, resting his hands on his thighs, his eyes screwed shut as if trying to hold back the laughter.
“Yes, and Nick will fix your booboos and make you all better. Now get out of here.”
Dex gave him a victorious, smug smile before finally heading out of the room.
Nick finally let the laughter escape. He faced Killian, the smile lingering. “How do you keep a straight face with him around?”
Killian shrugged. “I’ve worked with him for more than ten years. I guess I’m used to his antics.”
“He’s like your little brother, looking up to you.” Nick strolled over to him and cocked his head. “You do see that. Right?”
Killian cleared his throat, not sure if it was Nick’s proximity or his words. He had always wanted a brother. That could explain why he had taken Dex under his wing so many years ago. Or maybe it had been for more selfish reasons. He had barely hung on for so long, losing himself a little more each day. He sensed it happening but couldn’t stop it. His laser focus on survival had turned him into a shell of a man, isolated from the world. Until Dex and his crass nature jolted him back to life. His friend’s skills and knowledge kept him alive, but it was their symbiotic relationship that helped keep him grounded and human.
Killian stared into those green eyes, counting every tiny speck of gold and varying shades of jade. His mind might not have known he needed someone back then, but his soul had. Just as it knew now that protecting Nick was as imperative as taking his next breath. “You’re safe here. I hope you know that.”
Nick ducked his head and nodded. “I know. But for how long?”
“That’s up to you.”
Those green eyes were focused on him again, searching his features.
“You tossed and turned a lot last night.”
“I usually don’t sleep well.”
“Who’s Angel?”
An odd emotion flashed across Nick’s features before he turned away. He reached up and wrapped his hand around whatever hung from his neck hidden underneath his T-shirt. A habit Killian would ask him about one day. Nick’s silence triggered a surge of jealousy. He remembered listening to Nick, restless in bed, calling out this person’s name. Only then did he seem to settle into sleep.
Killian had promised he wouldn’t push. But dammit, he wanted to be the one who gave Nick peace. “You kicked Dex’s ass. Unconventional upbringing, huh?”
Nick glanced up, relief washing over his features with the subject change.
“Maybe…you’ll tell me about it. Someday,” he added the last, trying to keep his promise to not push.
“Kicking ass is in your bloodline? Maybe you’ll tell me about that. Someday,” Nick added, cocking his head.
Killian huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Touché.”
“Right now, I want some of those magical all-healing animal pancakes.”
Killian finally let the chuckle escape, wondering how Nick kept him both unbalanced yet more steady than usual. “Dex likes the monkeys and pigs. Which do you want?”
Nick bit his lip and looked away, a smile playing on his features.
“Say what you’re thinking.”
Nick glanced back at him, an unmistakable heat burning in his eyes as he sidled up to him, barely an inch away. “Lions and tigers are far more exciting,” he whispered next to his ear before brushing past him and out of the training room.
Killian closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. His pulse galloped, heating the blood racing through his veins. He’d take every teasing glance and touch he could steal. Anything and everything to braid more strength into the tether that bound them closer, hoping it was enough to keep Nick from leaving.
Every molecule in his body sparked to life
He wanted that elusive yes. Dammit, he needed it.
He had never felt more alive.
Leaning back against the wall, he willed his body to calm. He timed his breathing, hoping to steady the rhythm of his pulse. His efforts were pointless. Every thought of Nick kept spiking his pulse again.
Regardless of whatever Dex said or joked, Killian was still human. And he had officially discovered his weakness.
Nick.
He’d guard this man with every weapon at his disposal.
His life, if necessary.