Cochise entered the house and, as always, Stella was the first to greet him. She was growing, though slowly. He didn’t mind if she never grew any bigger than she was now. He slipped his jacket off, hung it up by the door, then scoop the kitten into his arms and walked into the kitchen.

Zoe was away on a gig, leaving behind a house full of men—but for Stella, who ruled the roost at all times. Kane was in the kitchen alone, preparing dinner. When Cochise entered, he left the stove and approached him. “She knows the sound of the car.” Kane stroked the kitten. “As soon as you pull up, she goes to the front door and waits for you.”

Cochise smiled small and put her down, and she immediately wound around the two men’s feet.

“What’s the damage?” Kane rubbed the Egyptian’s thick chest and held his eyes. “And don’t tell me there’s none.”

The damage. There was plenty. Most of it to Clint, but not all of it. “There’s a lot,” he murmured. “We saw a part of hell I never want to see again.”

Kane kissed him. “Then let me be your heaven tonight.”

Cochise stared into his eyes and Clint’s words hit home; we need the domestic lifestyle to keep us sane. “I won’t object.”

“Good.” Kane started to return to the stove when Cochise caught him and pulled him back. He cupped his face and kissed him with a surge of passion…and so much more.

“Thank you,” he whispered against Kane’s lips.

Kane trembled. “For what?”

Cochise slid his fingers through his hair. “For taking me in and making me a part of your family.” His words startled himself as well as Kane.

“You helped make us a family,” Kane said quietly. “We didn’t just take you in…you took us in, too.”

He’d started a line of conversation he wasn’t equipped to continue. Talking sentiment and emotions wasn’t his strong suit. “Where are the boys?” he mumbled.

“In Donald’s room, I think.” Kane drew back, suddenly subdued. “Donald’s been looking through the papers and online for an apartment. I wish he wouldn’t go.”

Cochise broke away and walked down the hall to Donald’s bedroom. The door was partially open, and Donald sat at his desk, a newspaper opened in front of him. John was stretched across his bed on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, a strained look on his face.

Knocking once, Cochise entered. John looked his way and Donald hardly had a chance to glance up when Cochise snatched the paper off his desk, wadded it into a ball, and threw it in the small wastebasket on the floor. “You’re not moving out,” he told the boy gruffly. “You’re a part of this family and you’re staying here. You got that?”

Donald stared at him in shock, blinked, and nodded.

On the bed, John pushed up on his elbows, as shocked as Donald. He looked at Cochise and the Egyptian gave him a slight nod. A slow smile slid across John’s face and the strain in his features vanished without a trace.

 

•♦•

 

The drive from the city out to their house occurred in virtual silence. Clint drove while Axel sat quietly in the passenger seat worrying about the cowboy. Clint was counting on him. He hadn’t said that in so many words but had stated previously that Axel was his safe haven—his escape from the hell he encountered in his world.

It was at moments like these that Axel wondered if he had enough to offer Clint. Nothing in his life had prepared him to be someone’s rock. Their refuge. He’d spent his entire life as a coward and a bully. Until that night in the apartment with Angel, he’d never stood up for anyone, always concerned about his own neck first and foremost. Until Clint, he’d believed he was worthless and useless and just an all-around total shit. What in his life equipped him to take care of a man like Clint?

You love him, that’s what.

Sometimes it didn’t feel like enough.

It was dusk, and Clint flipped on the headlights for safety more so than visible necessity. Axel turned his gaze on Clint’s face. The cowboy stared straight ahead, his jaw set, brow heavy. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, straining his knuckles as they whitened a bit.

When the “bad thing” that had happened, had happened to Axel…he’d known what to say to Clint. But what did he say now? What could anyone have said to him to make it better if the child had died in his arms? Was there anything?

Clint parked the car out front of their house. He said nothing as he climbed out the driver side. Axel opened the passenger door and exited the vehicle. Clint waited for him at the head of the path that led through their front yard up to the porch. Axel took his hand and Clint didn’t object as they walked into the house together.

It was warm inside, and Axel was glad he’d left the thermostat on; he didn’t want Clint coming home to a cold house, not today.

“Are you hungry?” Axel asked quietly. “I thawed out some steak. It wouldn’t take long to fry them up.”

Clint nodded, though he retained a distant, somewhat empty look in his eyes. “I’m going to shower,” he mumbled. “I can still smell the stink of the shithole on me.”

“All right,” Axel murmured. “I’ll start dinner while you shower.”

When Clint left the room, Axel took out the steaks. He wasn’t at all hungry and suspected Clint wasn’t either, but it occupied him for now and he needed that. Needed to feel like he was taking care of his cowboy, even if it was simply fixing him dinner.

Axel became lost in thought and lost track of time. The steaks were almost finished when he realized the shower was still running and Clint hadn’t returned. Clint never took this long to shower. Anything out of the ordinary tonight put Axel on edge. He moved the pan from the burner and went to the bedroom. The door of the adjoining bathroom was half open and Clint’s clothes lay in a heap on the floor by the sink cabinet, his boots out here next to the bed, his gun and knife on the nightstand.

Axel crossed the bedroom and entered the bathroom. The water continued to run, though no heat was coming from within the shower. The steam in the air was dissipating and the condensation trickled down the mirror. “Clint?” An irrational fear clutched Axel’s gut. He hesitated then opened the shower door. His heart sank heavily at the sight of the cowboy standing beneath the cold spray, hands flat against the wall as he rested on his arms, head hung down and shoulders slumped. Baby… Axel stepped into the shower fully dressed and reached around Clint, shutting off the water. “Come on, baby,” he whispered and led Clint out to the bedroom. He retrieved a thick, soft towel from the bathroom and dried the cowboy’s body then pulled back the blankets and sheet on the bed and had Clint lay down.

Clint’s skin was chilled, and Axel covered him with the warm blankets, kissed him and told him he would be right back. He returned to the kitchen and double-checked that the burner was off and covered the pan with the steaks to be reheated later.

When he came back to the bedroom, he paused in the doorway. Clint’s eyes were closed but there was an unevenness to his breathing that let Axel know he wasn’t asleep.

You’re his refuge…I’ve never seen him need anyone the way he needs you…just be there for him…

The bedroom shimmered, and he blinked. I’ve got you, baby…I’m never going to let go. And he wouldn’t. Not ever. He’d promised Clint that he wouldn’t let him slip away, that he would hold onto him…pull him back when he started to feel himself falling into that dark, empty abyss.

It was time to make good on the promise. It didn’t matter if he didn’t feel adequate or if he didn’t have all the answers…a promise was a promise.

 

•♦•

 

Keeping busy had distracted him from the pain. Torturing those motherfuckers had countered the anguish, given him purpose, made him feel like he was righting the wrong that had been done to the children.

Being at a state of rest brought it all back, made it worse. But his body was done. His mind was done. Even if there had been somewhere to go, something to do…he couldn’t have gone and done it. He felt like a prize-fighter down for the count, beaten by an unlikely opponent.

Eyes closed, he listened to Axel undress. His body instinctively responded with a rush of heat through his loins. He could be on his deathbed and the sound of Axel coming out of his clothes would get a reaction from him. When they’d arrived home, he’d thought he just wanted Axel to hold him tonight…no lovemaking, just cuddling. He was wrong, and he knew it when Axel slipped under the covers and his warm, naked body touched Clint’s chilled skin. His member came erect—an instant rod of steel between his legs—inciting an ache that wound around his balls and squeezed him to agony.

“Clint…” Axel flattened his palm on Clint’s chest and pressed his lips to his shoulder. “What can I do?”

The aching plea in his voice fueled the cowboy’s emotional and physical need. He broke from limbo and dragged Axel on top of him, situating his perfect ass against Clint’s stiff member.

Axel touched his face. “I wasn’t sure you wanted this tonight.”

“I do.” Clint swallowed hard and squeezed Axel’s hips. “I need this.” He hooked the back of Axel’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. “I want it.”

Axel stared into his eyes, his heart pouring out through his gaze. “I want what you want, baby.” He pressed his hands against Clint’s chest and pushed himself upright, his eyes never leaving his cowboy’s face. Clint wet himself with saliva and held his shaft in his fist while Axel pushed down on him. Both men shuddered and groaned. A gasp slipped from Axel and he grabbed Clint’s forearms as he released a deep moan.

Clint’s emotions ran wild with the physical ecstasy Axel conjured in him as he rotated his hips and rocked his ass. There was no doubt about it—his boy knew how to fuck.

“Uuhmm…” His head laying back, Axel bit his lower lip and dug his dull nails into Clint’s arms. His inner cave squeezed Clint’s cock and glided up and down the hard, throbbing rod. His head fell forward, and he seized Clint’s stare. “I’ve got you, baby…can you feel it?”

Clint quivered beneath him and lifted his hips, plunging deep into his tight heat. He nodded, understanding the true depth of Axel’s words. Axel had a hold of him in every way. And yes, he felt it…and it made him feel safe.

“That’s good.” Axel rolled his ass on the cowboy’s shaft, causing shivers to ripple across the surface of Clint’s skin. “I need you to feel it…to know it.”

Sliding his arms around Axel’s gyrating body, he leaned forward, engulfing the boy in his embrace. They fell into rhythm together and Axel hugged Clint’s head, sucking kisses from his lips as their passion heightened.

Clint sank onto his back again, bringing Axel down with him, their mouths locked, and bodies united as Clint bent his legs and dug his heels into the mattress, driving himself into Axel harder, faster, deeper.

“Uuhh…” Axel gasped through their kiss and gripped fists of Clint’s hair, shoving his mouth harder against the cowboy’s. Stiff whimpers welled in his throat with each powerful thrust of Clint’s hips as his body was rocked urgently back and forth on top of the cowboy. “Yes…baby…”

The effects of the traumatic day crashed down on Clint and he crushed Axel in his arms, flipped them over, and fucked him furiously.

“Yes!” Axel cried and clawed his back. “Let go, baby…let it go…fuck me—harder!”

Tears clogged Clint’s throat and his jaw clenched until his face ached—and he abandoned all control. His face shoved into Axel’s neck and he drove into him relentlessly, pounding his ass with all his strength. Axel clung to him, cries and gasps exploding out of him. The bed rattled and shook violently beneath them, beating against the wall.

Axel yelled out and gouged his fingers into Clint’s strained, sweaty muscles—and came, hard shots of cum pumping out of him. Clint fucked him harder, choking on his cries and grunts, assaulting Axel’s prostate, inciting another instant erection in the young man.

“Oh, my God…” Axel gasped when his muscles locked up moments later. “Oh fuck—I’m gonna cum again!”

Clint slammed in deep and ground down fiercely on his special gland until the boy was shouting and unloading another dose of creamy juice all over the both of them. Then he let loose again and fucked him in sheer desperation, exploding inside him. The orgasm ripped through Clint, seizing up his muscles, locking his throat tight as he clenched his jaw and pushed up inside Axel as deep as he could go, pumping him full.

The orgasm released him suddenly and a mangled cry burst out. His strength vanished, and he dropped down against Axel, panting heavily. Tears ran off his face onto Axel’s throat and he hugged the young man tightly.

Axel could hardly catch his breath. He ran trembling hands through Clint’s damp, heated strands. Tears cracked his voice as he kissed Clint’s ear. “Let it out, baby…I got you…always.”

 

•♦•

 

Vanessa went home shortly after Wil returned from the Morgan’s place. Frank had said he’d be working late, and Wil was glad to have some time to himself before his friend showed up. After putting Tad to bed, Wil went back to his son’s room thirty minutes later and found him fast asleep. He sat on the boy’s bed and just watched him sleep, thanking God that Tad was safe at home with him. Thanking God for the kids that had been saved…and praying for those still out there, caught up in their living hell.

He said a prayer for the cowboy and the pain he was suffering. And all his men who had walked through the bowels of hell these last couple days.

When Wil left his son’s room, he wiped tears from his face and went to the kitchen, fixed another cup of coffee then sat down at the table with the kids’ file and his laptop. His shoulders didn’t slump as heavily this evening as it had yesterday when the cowboy had first shown up at his house. The case he’d been suffering under then was solved—with a happy ending. Such cases rarely ended so well. Jeffrey Morgan was right; it was a Christmas miracle. There was no other explanation.

He opened the file and took out the list of names the cowboy had given him. Tomorrow he would put their names through the missing person system, but for tonight he would conduct a simple people search on the one parent whose full name he knew. Bryce Thorn; David Thorn’s father.

Wil brought up the website and typed in Thorn’s name. The flood of results came with the last name Thorn but only a select few with the first name Bryce. Wil weeded out some by age, others by ethnicity, until he was left with just three. Only one of them was in the state of New York. It was possible the man had moved out of state, but this seemed the first logical option to pursue. He glanced at the clock: 8:17. Not too late to call.

He left the table and paced the kitchen as he made the call from his cell. When he got the man’s answering machine, he hesitated; he’d hoped to talk to Thorn directly. He left a brief message and his cell number and asked the man to call him back as soon as possible, day or night.

Wil returned to the table and sat down, laying the phone aside. He closed the file and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it would be okay to take the rest of the night off. The kids were safe and being cared for. Before taking off, Vanessa had told him to leave his work for tomorrow and rest. She knew he’d been pushing himself on the Morgan case, and not getting nearly enough sleep or decent dietary consumption.

Maybe it would be smart to take her advice. He was tired and burned out. Just tuning everything out for the rest of the night sounded really good. He went to the living room and stretched out in his recliner and turned on the TV.

The next thing Wil knew, he was lost in a dream about Frank. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was a dream, he just did. They were at Wil’s house and Frank had come out to Wil…then confessed his feelings for him. The dream had a very realistic quality in that Frank nervously awaited Wil’s reaction. And as in real life, Wil was confused about what he truly felt for the man. In the dream, he experienced more of the tingles as Frank stared at him, a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes as he sipped a glass of scotch to calm his nerves.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Wil admitted.

Frank looked down at his glass. “I don’t expect you to feel the same for me,” he whispered. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect it when I know you’re not gay.”

“Well…” Wil chewed his lip and Frank looked up. “I’ve never actually tested it.” The dream took over and acted on its own, as Wil was certain that what he did next would not have taken place in reality. He crossed the kitchen and stood before Frank. “I lost interest in having sex with Sandy after Tad was born…maybe there was a reason for that.”

Frank took a bigger drink and swallowed with a hard gulp. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning…” Wil moved closer and stroked his thumb along the man’s jawline. “…why don’t you kiss me and see if revives my desires.”

Frank stared at him for a very long moment, then set his glass aside and grasped Wil’s shirt.  “I can do that,” he breathed shakily and kissed him before Wil could change his mind.

Heat shot through Wil’s body, surging straight to his crotch, reviving everything. Frank’s tongue slid into his mouth and Wil startled himself by moaning loudly and pushing into the kiss—andsucking Frank’s tongue. Frank pinned him against the counter with his body—his very aroused body—and groaned when Wil’s erection swelled. Frank dropped one hand and brushed his palm over Wil’s hard bulge; not invasively or crudely, but almost lovingly.

Frank’s tongue withdrew slowly from Wil’s mouth as Wil whimpered and tried to draw it back in. “I love you, Wil…”

Wil came awake with a small jolt and blinked, his heart beating erratically—and a prominent throb in his crotch. He swallowed thickly…and tasted liquor on his tongue. How…? He hadn’t been drinking…

“Evening, sleeping beauty.” Frank’s raspy voice reached him from the sofa. “Hope you don’t mind…I started without you.” The man kicked back on the sofa…and raised a glass scotch to his lips.

Wil stared at him, the flavor of the liquor lingering on his tongue.

The tingle came back, stronger than ever.