The conference call with Kyger and Hale was odd for two reasons. The first being that Richard had demanded Chase sit in the room only two weeks after their fake-ass man-to-man discussion while touring the Farm. He’d assumed it would take longer for his father to start trusting him.
The second oddity was that Jasper was not present.
Just him and dear old Dad—the old Payne family connection. The worst part of that connection was Chase was almost positive that if anyone could reach in through his shield and get a handle on his vibes, it would be Richard. There was something different about the energy around his relatives, and it made him nervous. He’d spent the last few minutes holding himself still and concentrating on a memory of his childhood torture chamber when keeping his shield up had meant life or death.
Not that this wasn’t life or death. He’d been invited to the phone conference, but he still had no idea where he stood.
“This story is so convoluted it sounds like bullshit.”
A snicker popped out of Chase’s mouth before he could bite back on it. Richard cast him a baleful glare, and he spread his hands with a helpless smirk. No one ever talked to his father like that but him, so Michelle Hale was already his favorite person.
“What part of the story is confusing?” Richard asked, icicles hanging from his voice. “The part where my son turned on the Community after being brainwashed by Ex-Comm, the part where they invaded the Farm to abduct my wife, or the part where they tried to kill me?”
“Yeah, I got all that, Richard,” she said with an edge. “But what I’m wondering is how this all came to be. Why would Holden do this?”
“He’s been brainwashed by Ex-Comm.”
A loud sigh made it through the speaker, and that sound caused Richard to sit up straight. He tensed, hands balling up, and an expression of rage filled his face that Chase hadn’t seen in a long time. Since childhood, when Richard had treated his wife like a brainless doormat whenever she rejected his version of reality. Kind of like what Hale was doing now.
Chase was struck with an overwhelming desire to end the call before his father could go nuclear, but he stopped himself. Instead, he slumped further in the chair and made a big show of scowling at the phone.
“Richard, this Ex-Comm obsession of yours needs to stop.”
Oh shit, Hale was going in.
“Ever since Jessica relocated to the Farm, you’ve been fixated on this idea that everyone who slips away, drops membership, or whatever other thing, is banding together to turn against us all.” Hale’s headshake was almost visible through the phone. “You’re paranoid. And I know it’s likely because of the deaths and the disappearances that have been happening for the past few years—”
Chase sat up straight. “What?”
Richard frowned at him, and Hale paused. After a beat she said, “I didn’t think you would speak, Chase.”
“I didn’t have much to say until right then. I thought the shit that went down at Evo was an isolated incident.”
“On the contrary,” Kyger finally butted in, his voice nasal and impatient sounding. “We’ve had rashes of these incidents at various Community nodes in the tri-state area. It started several years ago and pops up every so often. So far, we haven’t figured out what’s happening or why, but the commonalities are that involved parties are exceptionally talented, troubled, and in or associated with the Community. So there was something to the theory that a member was involved.”
Chase looked at his father, unable to speak.
“My theory is that Ex-Comm is involved,” Richard lied stonily. “They’re abducting members of the Community and brainwashing them. Nothing else makes sense.”
Nothing else. Right.
Because it wasn’t entirely possible that Richard was sending out his flunkies like Will and Kyra to procure rare psys, some of whom were conveniently “troubled,” to the Farm. For research. It definitely didn’t seem likely that he’d planted Beck at Evolution to spot rare psys for him, and that he hadn’t anticipated her fucking eating them.
There was no way he was involved at all.
Bull. Shit.
It all clicked together so beautifully that Chase had to strain his face to raise an eyebrow and look like a smart-ass. He felt like throwing up.
“Yes, you’ve told us this theory before,” Kyger said after a long silence. “In any event, I imagine you want us to organize a group to find Holden and Jessica.”
“To find them all. It’s time we stop waiting for people to attack us.” Richard clenched his jaw, staring down at the phone, and added, “These people hate us, Lukas. Michelle. You have no idea what plot they have to expose the Community to the rest of the world. It’s completely within their power to destroy our discretion and everything we’ve built over the past few years. Whether you think I’m paranoid or not, the fact remains that we’ve accepted responsibility for the protection and care of thousands of vulnerable psychics. If some former members with a grudge ruin that, we will all be doomed.”
There was something about those words, regardless of how masked they were by his real intentions, that rang true for Chase. That fact was emphasized when he pressed his mental ear up against his father’s shield. Chase heard a resounding thought: They’ll kill us all.
People could say a lot of things about Richard Payne, but Chase had no doubt that his father believed what he said. As twisted as his ideas were, he genuinely thought he was doing what he had to do.
It was fucked up. Even more fucked up because a concern drifted back to Chase. Ever since he’d learned of the existence of Ex-Comm, he’d wondered what their intentions were. Their plans. They wanted to take down the Community, but how? And what would happen to the people who were in fact supported by it? What would happen if this little showdown resulted in more attention landing on them than they’d ever considered?
Chase had zero doubts that his father’s propaganda speech was accurate in at least one way: if the government knew about people like them, people like Chase, he’d end up in the same kind of research chamber as he’d been in as a child.
“What do you propose, Richard?” Hale asked.
“Members of our security task force headed by people I hand select will go after them, return Holden and Jessica to me, and then I’ll bring the rest here for questioning.”
“Questioning.” The word held weight, but Kyger didn’t follow up on his unspoken skepticism. “Do you have leads as to where they could be?”
“Yes,” Richard said, and Chase’s heart stopped. He had to hold himself very steady, and focus on the memory of that room to not give himself away. “I have reason to believe they’re in or around Poughkeepsie.”
“What is your reason for believing that?” Hale asked.
Richard’s eyes shifted to Chase and, in that moment, Chase knew his father was trying to penetrate his shield. Root around for any traces of the panic that had set his heart galloping, or the fear that made his stomach tighten into a thousand knots.
The first image that crashed into Chase’s mind was one of Nate being dragged through the Farm and into the silo. Of Jasper getting his hands on one of the infamous full-breed Black psychics . . .
Before Chase could stop himself, his mind sent out a frantic shout aimed at his brother—wherever he was. Richard didn’t look at him twice, and Chase inwardly sighed with relief. The Black family bond was freakishly strong if he could send a frantic directionless mental message without his father picking up on it.
“They managed to evade the guards,” Richard said finally. “But they were tracked far enough to get an idea of their general direction.”
“I see.” Hale didn’t sound thrilled with this development. Maybe she wasn’t as gung ho on the idea of chasing down rogue Comm members as Richard, or maybe she just wasn’t keen on anything he suggested or said. There was definite tension between them. “Fine. Assemble a team of people to investigate this and see whether Jessie truly did not leave of her own accord.”
Richard’s lip curled.
“Do you need anything from us?” Kyger asked.
“No. I’ll use my people here for this operation.”
Richard hung up but continued to glare at the phone. His face was etched into a cold mask of hatred and disgust that Chase could only imagine was aimed at Hale and her beautiful skepticism.
“I take it you two don’t exactly . . . get along,” he drawled.
“I fucked her and now she hates me.”
Richard smirked, and Chase tried not to let his snarl of disgust become too apparent.
“Sounds like the story of your life, Daddy-o. Must be bad at laying the pipe.”
The comment didn’t seem to register at first, but when it did, Richard’s face hardened again. His ability to take a joke was right up there with his ability to take criticism. Nonexistent.
“You’ll lead the search for your brothers,” Richard said, cutting back to the chase. “You, Will, and Kyra, and a couple others.”
“Why me?”
“Because something tells me you’ll be able to find Nate easier than anyone else. And something also tells me that they’ll hesitate to run from you. They won’t know you’re working with me.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m bringing Elijah.” Chase nodded toward the door as if Elijah were on the other side of it. “They’d never think he switched up on them, and he has a better face for a con. Also, I need to fuck at least twice a day, so I need to keep him handy.”
Again, Richard gave him one of those blank stares, but it slowly morphed into a douchebag of a smirk. If there was anything that could bring two similarly fucked-up psychics together, it was the comradery of being dudes who talked about banging bitches and whatnot. Chase wanted to punch himself in the face but wiggled his eyebrows instead.
“We’ll see. I don’t know if he’s ready.”
“He will be.” Chase rose to his feet and rolled his shoulders, cracking them. “Elijah was always one of us. They just managed to manipulate him after he watched your freak show of a spotter get one of his friends mauled and murdered, and then you dragged me off and kept me here for months to have the obedience tortured into me.”
For the first time, Richard didn’t deny that it had been torture. He just slipped his hands into his pockets and said, “So you blame his defection on me.”
“Pretty much, yeah. When you made it clear that you found the queer psys at Evolution to be expendable. You acted like they didn’t matter. Then when several of Elijah’s friends had vanished or died in a short period of time, you showed no real concern other than finding a scapegoat, and opened up the door for defection. He was primed for it by your dereliction.”
Richard nodded, his hazel eyes slit and face cast in seriousness. For a second it seemed like he would lash out at the criticism like he so often did, but then his mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile. A proud smile. The kind that had always been reserved for Holden, never for Chase.
“Every day you prove that I really did bet on the wrong horse all those years ago. You’ll make a good leader.”
“Leader,” Chase repeated. “Of what?”
“I won’t be around forever, Chase. You need to be ready to take my place.”
“What about the board?”
Richard shifted to look out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “They won’t be around forever either.”
He found Elijah sitting in the cottage surrounded by zombies.
Some of them had only a trace of cloudiness in their eyes, but others were in full-on just-had-my-brain-realigned mode complete with glazed eyes and vacant stares. There was no doubt in Chase’s mind that they were all medicated, which begged the question as to why he and Elijah were not.
Elijah. Who was sitting pretty in one of the stark-white sweat suits the staff provided all their detainees. Although, his pants seemed to be child sized. They were so tight that Chase’s gaze automatically strayed to the heavy curve displayed between Elijah’s thighs.
Getting to touch Elijah again had done nothing more than jumpstart Chase’s addiction for him. When he finally managed to look up again, he found Elijah’s big brown eyes trained on him. They were narrowed, and Elijah was biting the full swell of his lower lip. Fucking leave it to them to want to smash in the middle of a goddamn horror movie.
“Can I help you, Mr. Payne?”
Chase focused in on the dude, Kier, leading the meeting, therapy session, meeting of the minds, or whatever the hell it was supposed to be. Despite his calm voice and what was likely supposed to be a serene smile, his eyes were sharklike.
“Not really, but I’m gonna need my boy.” Chase jerked his chin at Elijah. “Time to put that ass to work.”
Kier’s brows drew down and there was a subtle curl of his mouth, but he just gave a curt nod. “I’ll see you this evening, Elijah.”
Elijah ignored him and zeroed in on Chase like an eagle. He crossed the room, face lit up but still carefully vacant as he pretended to be as medicated as the others, and went into lamprey-mode. Sliding his slender arms around Chase’s neck, standing on the tips of his toes, and drawing him into a slow kiss complete with a hum of pleasure. He’d probably meant for it to be a chaste show of devotion since he was supposed to be in beta kitten mode, but Chase couldn’t help the way his hands fisted in the back of Elijah’s shirt or the way he slanted his mouth to taste the inside of Elijah’s.
The rest of the room disappeared, and for a good ten seconds, there was nothing but Elijah’s tight body against his own, and the hungry sliding of their tongues. It felt so good to touch him again. And doing it out in the open where it made other people nice and uncomfortable made it even fucking better.
“Mr. Payne . . .”
Chase ripped away with a wild-eyed glare aimed at Kier. He snarled, breathing harder, and slid his hand down to grip one of Elijah’s round ass cheeks.
“You got a problem?”
Kier’s eyes flashed, but he shook his head. “We’re in the middle of a session.”
“Yeah, I see that.”
Chase gave Kier the mean stare down for a moment longer before turning away and dragging Elijah behind him. To his credit, Elijah ignored his likely natural impulse to kick the shit out of Chase for being so demanding. Instead, he gripped at his hand and trailed behind him like a puppy as Chase led him to his room.
All the other doors were still shut, but Chase caught a glimpse of Shelby at the far end of the hallway. She was pushing her cart into one of the rooms, but glanced over at them before going inside. Chase held her gaze for a beat before she entered the room. He had to find a way to have words with her. She’d been carefully distant for the past two weeks, not speaking much and not making a ton of eye contact, but it was time. Now that Elijah was back to full strength and his arm was mostly healed from the flesh wound, it was also time to start focusing on a plan.
Instead of figuring it out now, he burst into Elijah’s room, kicked the door shut behind him, and shoved the slighter man onto the bed.
“Get your fucking clothes off.”
Elijah’s lips parted, damp and pouty and so damn irresistible that Chase found himself drawing Elijah into another scorching kiss instead of allowing him to comply. With his fingers tangling in Elijah’s curly hair and Elijah moaning against him, Chase lost his ability to make any executive decisions beyond refamiliarizing himself with the body pressing against his.
He broke the kiss just long enough to rip off Elijah’s white sweatshirt, then pushed him back on the bed with his legs hanging off the side.
“Tell me you missed touching me,” Elijah whispered. “Please?”
“I just got you off yesterday.”
“But we haven’t had sex. Haven’t really fooled around except quick-and-dirty blowjobs or jerk-off sessions . . .”
It was clear Elijah was getting at something in particular, but Chase wanted no part of it right now. He was always too paranoid about someone bursting in while they were talking about something sensitive, which was the only reason he’d kept their interactions brief.
“Shut the fuck up and take your clothes off.”
Elijah paused, searching Chase’s face, and a flash of something crossed his own. His cupid-bow lips turned down and his jaw tightened, which automatically led to the tightening of Chase’s chest. How many times could he get away with protecting his own heart at the expense of Elijah’s before Elijah walked away for good?
Chase stalked toward Elijah, undoing his jeans, and didn’t stop walking until he was standing between Elijah’s spread thighs.
“I said to take your clothes off.”
Elijah closed his eyes. “You take them off.”
The words heated Chase’s blood and managed to further harden his cock. He yanked Elijah up, loving the gasp of anticipation that left his mouth at the roughness, and manhandled him until the smooth satiny stretch of his back was pressed against Chase’s tattooed chest.
Chase dropped his hands to Elijah’s white pants and jerked them down so violently that he heard the seams of the too-tight fabric rip. He’d wanted them off completely, but once his fingers grazed the protruding length of Elijah’s erection, Chase couldn’t bypass it. He yanked the band of Elijah’s briefs down and wrapped his fingers around that thick cock. The plan had been to squeeze it, just enjoy the heaviness of a dick in his hand, but it was impossible to leave it at that.
Chase tightened his grip and pumped Elijah with long, sure strokes, pressing his thumb against the slit that was increasingly damp.
“Oh . . .” Elijah tilted his head back against Chase’s shoulder, lips parted and eyes closed. “Fuck . . .”
Chase’s hips jolted against Elijah’s round ass and began a steady grinding motion. Elijah’s dick was dripping like a faucet by now, and Chase’s hand made a wet sound as he glided over the length.
“You hard up for a dick in you?” Chase rumbled in his ear. “I know you’re used to getting fucked on the regular.”
Elijah whimpered, but savaged his lower lip to muffle any other sound. Chase used his free hand to drag Elijah’s abused lip away from his teeth. He smoothed the pad of his thumb over it.
“Uh-uh. I want to hear every sound, baby,” Chase panted in his ear. “And you’re gonna moan like my good little slut, right?”
“I—” Elijah’s entire body shuddered as Chase pumped faster. “I . . .”
“Say it.”
“I’m gonna moan like a slut,” Elijah gasped. “For you.”
“That’s fucking right.” Chase jerked Elijah’s face sideways and crushed their lips together in a sloppy, hungry kiss. He ripped away only after it became necessary to suck in a deep breath. “I’m gonna fuck you raw.”
“Good,” Elijah guttered out. He sucked in another breath, then twisted his face to meet Chase’s eyes. “It’s not like I’ve been with anyone but you for over a year.”
Chase’s brows snapped together, and several questions formed in his mind. I thought you were fucking Holden? I thought you’d fucked around with Theo? I thought I was just there to use when you were bored . . .
“Stupid,” Elijah whispered. “You’re so stupid, Chase.”
Chase’s hand stilled. “What?”
“I can hear you. When you’re emotional, and we’re this close, I can always hear you. Like you’re talking to me, in my head, without realizing it. And . . .” Elijah pushed Chase’s hand away from his dick just enough to shift around so he was kneeling on the edge of the bed facing Chase. “And I fucking heard you when you visited me while I was in the silo.”
Chase lost a breath, his heart coming to an abrupt halt before slamming against his rib cage. “I don’t know what . . .”
Elijah shushed him with a brief kiss. “I heard what you said to me. And that’s the only thing that kept me sane.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chase said roughly. “And you shouldn’t be talking about it at all.”
“Fine. We can play it that way, but I want you to know.” Elijah kissed him again, harder this time. “That I know.”
Goddamn it. Whether Chase was stupid or not when it came to Elijah, there was no denying he was soft. Sloppy. He consistently let down his shields for this dark-eyed beauty with the tempting mouth and gorgeous ass. And it was time to put a stop to that.
“Shut your mouth and get on your back,” he rasped.
Elijah dimpled at him and eased himself backward, never breaking eye contact. “Whatever you say, Mr. Payne.”
Chase grabbed Elijah’s sweatpants and jerked them off, discarding them on the floor. “I say finger that hole and get it ready because I have no lube, but I’m still fucking you.”
Elijah braced the heels of his feet on the edge of the mattress and pulled one of his knees back. With his ass spread and hole exposed, he sucked on the digits of his free hand before reaching down to press them into his ass.
Chase’s body grew hotter, and his balls drew up tighter as he shed his clothes while watching Elijah finger himself into a trembling mess of curled toes and pre-come glistening at the head of his dick. He was flushed, sweating, and he looked like a fucking god. A god that Chase wanted to imprint with his touch.
He spat into his hand and smoothed it over his dick. “Pull both your knees back.”
Elijah complied, hamstrings flexing as he held his knees against his chest. “Go slow,” he whispered.
“I’ll do what I want.” Chase circled Elijah’s hole with the tip of his dick, resisting the urge to force his way in past that tight ring of muscle. “And you’ll let me, won’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know you’d never hurt me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
God fucking damn it, Chase loved him so much.
Elijah tilted his head back again, but it did nothing to cover his tiny smile, making it clear he’d heard that too.
Cursing himself, Chase pressed inward against Elijah’s tense body. It took two more applications of saliva and pre-come, and Elijah slowly stroking his dick, for his body to relax enough to accept Chase’s intrusion. Once Chase was fully seated, and Elijah stopped gasping for breath and digging his fingers into his thighs, all it took was one squeeze to prompt Chase into motion.
He slid in and out of Elijah with increasing speed and pressure until Elijah was releasing loud rhythmic cries. When Elijah’s body began to tremble again, his breath coming out in sharp huffs, Chase shoved him farther back on the bed and crouched before him. He held Elijah’s thighs open, gripping the underside of his knees, and fucked him deep enough for pre-come to continuously swell at Elijah’s tip.
The slapping sound of his body pounding against Elijah’s filled the room to combine with both of their increasing grunts, but it didn’t drown out a ping to Chase’s mental shield. First one, then two—his gift warning him of two people approaching his door.
Fucking faggots. Disgusting that he—
Why is this my job? Total bullshit . . .
Frick and Frack.
Chase smirked and picked up the rhythm, not devastating Elijah’s ass the way he would have if they’d had lube, but working his spot until Elijah was beside himself. Impaling himself on Chase’s dick and chanting a steady stream of “right there, fuck me there” that grew louder. It peaked as soon as the door opened.
“Please fuck me,” he wailed. “Chase, please make me come.”
Holy shit.
What the fuck—
His dick is . . .
He’s begging to be . . .
The crowd of voices filled Chase’s head as the twins looked on. He blocked them out but gave them a good show, grabbing a fistful of Elijah’s hair and leering down at his slit, dilated eyes. They flicked to the side just quickly enough for Chase to know Elijah was aware of their audience.
“Say it again,” he growled.
“I love you,” Elijah moaned. “I—” His body locked up, and he wrapped a hand around his shaft. “I’ll never leave . . . you.”
An urgent cry of devotion about the Community would have been better for this dick-you-out-till-you’re-loyal game, but this sounded better.
To draw it out, and make Frick and Frack suffer, Chase pulled out just to tap his dick against Elijah’s hole. It clenched up, wanting to suck Chase back in, which made him moan.
“Please don’t stop,” Elijah panted. “I need it.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Your dick. Fucking me. Making me yours. Please.”
Voices filled Chase’s head. First Kyra then Will.
Why is this my job?
Begging to be fucked. Filthy whore. God, I’d use him so good . . .
Chase slid back into Elijah and ruthlessly pounded him. Lost himself in it and the sound of Elijah’s loud wails, his begging. Will really liked the begging.
“Right there,” Elijah shouted again. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—”
Elijah pumped himself once and caused an eruption of pearly fluid all over his stomach. The clench around Chase’s dick briefly elevated him from his conscious mind to the blank space of utter bliss. He pulled out of Elijah just in time to add his semen to the growing wet spot on Elijah’s flat stomach.
Would lick it up . . .
Will was a freak. But even so, he said with disgust heavy in his tone: “You done?”
Chase exhaled and inhaled sharply, still looking down at Elijah.
Put on a show, baby. Gotta make it real. They know where Nate and Holden are.
For just a second, Elijah’s eyes took on a brief glow. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it type of sheen, but Chase saw it.
“You didn’t like watching?” Chase asked, voice in his typical slow drawl of sarcasm. “You sure as fuck stood there long enough to watch us both nut.”
Behind him there was the sound of someone starting forward but abruptly stopping with a slight shuffle of feet. Smirking, Chase untangled himself from Elijah and turned around while pulling up his jeans. He didn’t miss the way Kyra’s gaze briefly dipped to his softening cock before flicking over to Elijah’s thoroughly debauched form. At least someone could appreciate the sight of naked bodies and good fucking.
Will, on the other hand, was still looking at Chase like he wanted to break his neck. He’d flushed all the way down the high neck of his biker leathers. His nostrils flared when Chase finished fixing his jeans and patted Elijah’s knee.
“Get cleaned up.”
Elijah obediently rose, completely naked and still streaked with dampness, and smiled at them. “Hey, guys. Didn’t know we were gonna have—”
Fucking slut. Could fuck him so much better. Make him take my dick. Come in his ass. Keep him in my room. Tie him up and force—
Chase’s brows flew up before he could stop himself. He had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from killing Will. Especially because he could see what the freak was thinking. See what he wanted to do to Elijah. It was a nightmare.
Their eyes met, and Will went rigid. “Cover yourself, for fuck’s sake,” Will growled at Elijah.
Elijah laughed, ducking his head in faux bashfulness even as he stood there with his goods out for everyone to see. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about—”
“Just put your clothes on,” Will shouted.
Chase tensed, thinking this would be the moment when Elijah slipped and told Will to go fuck himself with a chainsaw, but it didn’t happen. Elijah just shrugged, grabbed his clothing, and used his underwear to mop up the semen splattered on his stomach and chest.
Chase couldn’t help but notice the way Will watched as Elijah shimmied back into those now-torn white pants. Fucking punk. He was going to find himself on the wrong side of Chase’s fist before this all was said and done.
“Did you come in here to say something or just to look at E’s dick?”
Will reddened again. Kyra sneered.
“Richard told us to meet with you,” she said with an air of the supremely uninterested. “To discuss the search.”
A vision hit like a lightning bolt, nearly splitting his head open with the intensity of its arrival. Him in one van, and Elijah in another.
He saw Kyra watching him in the back seat of a large SUV. And he felt his own urgency. Dread. He saw them turning off the Taconic to a heavily wooded road.
He saw himself stepping outside of the van . . . then nothing else. A void where there should have been the rest of the vision.
Chase blinked out of the vision as if he hadn’t just watched his last living moment, and forced a mocking smile at the twins.
“Well, then let’s get to it.”