But…what? That hadn’t been the plan, had it? His brother wasn’t supposed to be here now.

Ryan was out of the helicopter, lowering himself to the yacht like he’d done it a million times before. Gray knew about his military background, so perhaps he had. He had the same badass fuck-off vibe that Darius had, and they were built similarly. Broad shoulders, muscular arms and thighs, solid frames, without looking too cut. It was strength that’d been built over years and years of service.

“You felt now was the time to bring in the cavalry? When we’re done?” Darius walked toward his brother, and he tucked his gun into his pants at the base of his spine.

Ryan landed with a thump and signaled something to the chopper. Then he wiped a hand over his mouth before it stretched into a grin. “Didn’t I just take care of three men for you? I’m pretty fucking sure I did.”

Gray stayed back with Cole, who looked confused.

“Darius’s brother,” Gray explained quietly. “He’s been helping out.”

“Oh.” Cole squinted into the sunlight as the helicopter left.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” Darius clapped Ryan on the cheek and pulled him in for a hug. “How did you know it was safe?”

“Squeezy got into the surveillance system, so she alerted me when everything went dark. You’ve also been way off course for the past hour. I’m guessing autopilot.” Ryan wrapped up the hug with a smack to the back of Darius’s head. “You can’t stick to a goddamn plan, can you?”

“Gray’s like Lias. He has to save the strays.” Darius rubbed the back of his head while Ryan glanced over at Gray with amusement in his eyes. They were bluer than Darius’s hazel ones.

“Good quality. Nice to see you alive, son,” Ryan said with a nod at Gray. “Your family’s waiting for you back in Miami.”

Mom…? Gray swallowed hard. The whole thing was bizarre. There was no way, was there? Like…was it over? Incomprehensible. Actually, he refused to believe it. Mom and his brothers existed in another world, one that was nothing like this hell. Here, people died. Here, Milo was shot in the head for no motherfucking reason other than Red wanting to show she was serious. Here, Linus was used for target practice before his body was lost in the ocean forever.

“Why are you here?” Darius refocused and grew serious.

Ryan followed suit. “There’s a storm brewing according to Squeezy, but we can talk about that later. The vessel secure yet?”

“I have to do a last check,” Darius answered. “Literal storm or figurative?”

“The latter, I’m afraid.” Ryan nodded at the pool. “There’s a kid hiding behind that stack of chairs, by the way. He didn’t look like a target to me.”

That had to be Owen, the guy from the staff.

“All right. You and I can round up the bodies and make sure it’s clear,” Darius said. They were heading over to where Gray and Cole stood like statues, and Darius addressed Gray next. “Knucklehead, you can bring everyone up here. Once Ry and I are done, there are wounds to dress.”

“Um, okay.”

* * *

An hour later, the upper deck was like a hospital. Jonas and a guy named Nikolaj from the staff were running between the loungers to take care of those who couldn’t cope as well. Whether they needed comfort and help to understand what was going on, or they had physical wounds that needed tending to, Jonas and Nikolaj were there.

Gray and the guys he’d been brought here with had ended up at the dining table instead, and it was Cole who still had the energy to take care of others. Gray had run out of steam after explaining the whole purpose of Darius being here and how everything had gone down.

Physical pain hit Gray in waves, in a way it hadn’t before. To anyone else, he probably looked relaxed in his seat, feet perched on the table, but on the inside, he was in fucking agony. He couldn’t move.

Charlie came first, though. He was across the table from Gray, and he had his forehead touching the table while Darius held him still so Ryan could remove the GPS chip. Charlie wept continuously, his trembling fingers digging into the linen cloth.

“They didn’t think this shit through,” Ryan muttered. Brow furrowed in concentration, scalpel slicing into the flesh of Charlie’s neck. “You wanna give it a try?”

Darius shook his head and gave Charlie’s shoulder a soft squeeze. “Your hand is steadier than mine.” He paused. “Charlie, you think you can hold still without me holding you? I need to get the bullet out of Gray’s leg before he loses too much blood.”

“I-I won’t m-move,” Charlie whimpered.

Gray averted his gaze to his lap and breathed through a thick rush of grief. It seemed every whimper was going to remind him of Milo and how he’d sounded. Fuck…he wasn’t supposed to be dead. And he’d been from Camassia too. He’d been almost the same age as Gray’s twin brothers. What if they’d gone to the same school? What if they’d been friends?

“Why didn’t you call the police?” There was a pause before people glanced at Cole, who’d asked the question. “You knew we were here when you boarded. You knew we could die.”

Darius cleared his throat and straightened after gathering some medical supplies off the table. “I didn’t know for sure that Gray was on this boat until I saw him. I couldn’t risk anything on an educated guess.”

It wasn’t the first question any of the guys had asked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Gray was torn between wanting to defend Darius and…well, doing nothing. Because in the end, he understood everyone was mindfucked and wanted to know. The months leading up to this voyage from hell had been bad enough, but they paled in comparison. Lives had been lost, hearts had been broken, spirits had been crushed.

It didn’t feel like it was truly over, either. The yacht had been searched, weapons had been collected, and the bodies of the vile creatures had been locked inside the dungeon. They were all dead, yet Gray was on pins and needles for the next blow.

He could tell there was something. He could see it in Darius’s calculating expression. And who could forget what Ryan had said about a storm brewing.

Darius rounded the table and pulled out a chair. He didn’t speak or make eye contact, working as if no one was around. He carefully shifted Gray’s feet off the table and his injured leg onto the chair, where he placed the medical supplies too. Gray had stripped off his sweats as instructed earlier, and he’d pulled up his boxer briefs a bit so they weren’t in the way.

“I’m afraid all I got is lidocaine and alcohol,” Darius told him. “What will it be?”

Gray lifted a shoulder and stared at the gunshot wound. It wasn’t bleeding as badly as it had, and other pains won out at the moment. Either way, he didn’t give a flying fuck. Everything was gonna hurt regardless.

Darius sighed and poured something onto a piece of cotton and began cleaning the area around the wound. Gray hissed at the sting but was more worried about the actual procedure of removing the bullet. Maybe he should think again on the alcohol…

“It doesn’t feel like everything’s over,” he said instead, keeping his voice down. “You have that look on your face. You’ve been different since you got back with your brother.”

Had they found something on the boat, or was Ryan’s news that shitty?

Darius flicked a glance at the guys around the table and decided to relocate the conversation. He told Gray to stand up and not put any pressure on his leg, after which Darius moved the two chairs closer to the aft railing. It gave them some privacy to talk, and Gray was relieved not to be treated like the others.

“I should’ve known Ry was gonna stay close,” Darius admitted. “More than that, I should’ve known our sister wasn’t gonna be able to stop digging.” He inspected the wound in Gray’s thigh with a frown of concentration, his fingers ghosting over the area he’d cleaned. “Long story short, it looks like my original plan to get you away would’ve been a bust anyway. Squeezy—that’s Willow, our sister—she found out these trips are for more than hosting auctions. They’re for drug trade too.”

Gray bit his lip to keep from screaming when Darius pressed a finger closer to the injury. “What—fuck… What does that mean? For us, I mean—Jesus fuck, Darius.” His leg felt like it was about to seize up in spasms, each little tic sending piercing fire through him.

“Well, if the organization meets with smugglers along this route and brings back drugs to the mainland, it means there’s at least one more player involved.” Darius slid his hand along the side of Gray’s thigh to…maybe deliver more pain? Holy shit, the alcohol sounded good right now. “This is where Ryan’s expertise comes in handy. He was always more for diplomacy and finesse than I was.”

“Was he some kind of peacemaker in the Marines?” Gray gritted his teeth and released a labored breath.

Darius chuckled. “No, he was a sniper.”

“I don’t think diplomacy means what you think it means.”

“You’d be surprised.” Darius’s mouth twisted up. “What I dealt with… Protection is messy and creates headlines. He was invisible. A target stops being interesting when you can’t figure out who eliminated it. Great for diplomacy.” He paused. “He’s thinking about your future, Gray. We have a chance to secure all your futures if we shift the blame onto someone else.”

“What fucking blame?” Gray panted, incredulous. “Last time I checked, we were the victims here.”

“The people who did this to you won’t see it that way, and I don’t think you want to spend the rest of your life worrying they might come back for you.”

Gray swallowed at that, and he was granted a break. Darius backed away to dig through the box of supplies.

“You can protect yourself from a slight risk,” Darius said. “If they have reason to believe we’re behind these killings, however, you can bank on them seeking revenge. And sooner or later, law enforcement will pull back their token protection.”

“Have I mentioned your bedside manner sucks?”

“Possibly, and it’s your shitty luck I’m no doctor.” Darius hummed, pulling out gauze and whatnot. “Look, knucklehead, we gotta do cleanup anyway. We’ve lost the war on drugs and human trafficking, but there are still battles to be won. So if we can make it look like this whole thing is a drug deal gone wrong, you will get away scot-free, and the organization behind this will have a new enemy to focus on.”

Even in the haze of mind-numbing hurt, Gray saw where Darius was coming from. And Ryan. They had seen more than Gray could ever imagine, and he wasn’t going to pretend to know better. The two brothers probably had reasons for not trusting the police to solve this.

“How do we do that?” Gray tried to take a calming breath.

“Willow found two locations, one less likely for smaller boats to pick up slave owners. Ryan’s already reset the course.”

Gray knew the last part, that Ryan had changed the boat’s direction or whatever. It was on autopilot and moving pretty slowly.

“In short, we remove any evidence that we did this,” Darius explained. “We set up the smugglers. We…we bury Valerie somewhere.”

“What?”

As Darius applied some cream onto a sterile pad, he slid Gray a quick, amused look. “You shot her over a dozen times, knucklehead. That’s not a quick bullet to the back of someone’s head. That’s a crime of passion.”

Gray sort of lost the plot. To add more confusion, Darius was dressing his wound, though he hadn’t removed the bullet, and it was getting to be too much. Gray broke out in a cold sweat from the pain.

Maybe Darius noticed, because he left the details out of things from then on. “You don’t have to worry, Gray. Ry and I will get you and the boys somewhere safe, and then we’ll take care of things.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell Gray was satisfied with that response, but it would have to do for now. He white-knuckled the armrests and clenched his jaw as Darius wrapped gauze around his thigh.

“The bullet,” Gray bit out.

“It’ll have to wait,” Darius replied. “If your femoral artery was hit, the bullet’s probably the only thing stopping you from bleeding out. I won’t risk that—and you don’t want me to play surgeon out here.”

Okay, good talk. “I think I’ll take that alcohol now,” Gray whimpered.

* * *

The sun was setting as a group of islands came into view. Gray had found a secluded spot at the bow of the yacht, the area shielded by the elevated sundeck behind him. He’d showered, had every cut and scrape cleaned or dressed, and he’d been given clothes.

He’d put on a new pair of sweats, but the T-shirt had felt too foreign. He hadn’t even tried it on.

With his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs, he took deep breaths and let the shivers run whenever a gust of wind blew through his damp hair. A part of him felt the sliver of freedom—that this was what freedom was. But the bigger part still couldn’t go there.

Some of the guys, mostly from the staff, were rejoicing and itching to reach out to their families. Ryan and Darius had been forced to cut off all communications with the mainland so they didn’t risk anything; they couldn’t know for certain who was listening. Not that this had tampered with the cautious excitement on board. Those guys had jumped into the pool instead and started rambling about home.

Home.

Another thing that felt foreign to Gray. And what was the point of thinking about going home when the danger wasn’t over? Someway, somehow, they were going to make it look like conflict had arisen between drug smugglers and an organization that dealt in human trafficking. They were going to hide a mountain of evidence, all while making sure the schedule was followed…? Which they’d already fucked up. They’d been off course for quite some time, and now they were blowing off the pickup spot in order to make it in time to the other location.

Gray groaned internally and slipped his fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends and willing the thoughts to slow down. Or maybe willing himself to get smarter. He hadn’t been the useful fighter he’d wanted to be. He felt fucking stupid. Weak, a mess, unable to help.

A few guys were preparing dinner. Wafts of spices and something grilled reached Gray when the crosswind was strong enough, and he couldn’t understand how there was any laughter. He’d even heard Cole’s chuckles a couple times. Or, perhaps a better question was, why wasn’t Gray with them? They’d all been given the same information by now. The others weren’t oblivious to the new plan and, yet, they were now hosting a fucking barbecue and laughing.

Not all of them. Some. Charlie, Owen, and Oscar had set up temporary camp at the bridge in the pilothouse with Ryan. A couple others had withdrawn to their own spots of seclusion. Not surprisingly, outdoors. It seemed no one wanted to be on the lower decks.

“We’re free, motherfuckers!” someone hollered. Not for the first time.

Gray tried to grasp the feeling. We’re free. Technically, we’re free. It’s over…except it wasn’t.

He growled in frustration and fisted his hair harder. Stupid fucking brain.

There was no closure. No specific point where they went from dead men walking to free. No sense of victory. Linus and Milo had died for nothing, Jackie was gone, the staff guys had taken hits too, and they’d all be fucked in the head for life.

“There you are.”

Gray tensed up for a second, until his mind recognized Darius’s presence. He sat down next to Gray and had a glass of OJ and a plate of food with him.

“You gotta eat, knucklehead.”

Gray unfolded his legs slowly and accepted the plate. The fresh bread, salad, and chicken looked good, but he had no appetite. Despite the echoing void in his stomach.

Darius dug out a pill bottle from the pocket of—shit, he was wearing jeans. That was new. Well-worn, faded blue jeans. “Your antibiotics. You can take two.”

Gray took them on autopilot, suddenly focused on more shit he hadn’t noticed. Darius had been injured too. There was a bandage around his non-tatted shoulder that stood out against his sun-kissed skin.

“You got hurt?” he mumbled.

Darius peered down at his shoulder, then gave a half-dismissive shake of his head. “Flesh wound. A bullet grazed me. Nothing to write home about.”

Guilt hit Gray hard, and his stomach churned. “I didn’t see it. I’m sorry.”

Darius sighed and draped his good arm around Gray. “While you recover from this, you have to lower your expectations and allow yourself to focus on you. Otherwise, you’ll go under. For chrissakes, you haven’t even begun to process all this.”

Recover from this… That was what Gray chose to go with. “I thought you said there’s no going back to normal.”

“Mm. Define normal.”

Gray rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Darius chuckled. “No, you won’t go back to who you were, Gray. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work through this. You’ll just be different. You’ll see things differently.” He cleared his throat and squinted at the islands ahead of them. “You’ll carry more.”

Gray stared at the islands too. They looked like paradise and were just close enough to make out sandy white beaches, the edge of a small jungle, and some cliffs. The closer they got, the brighter blue the water became. Around the islands, it appeared perfectly turquoise.

“I don’t feel free,” he admitted softly.

Darius drew him nearer and pressed a kiss to Gray’s temple. It was a weirdly affectionate gesture, but normal rules didn’t apply to them. Did they? No… They’d fucked. They’d kissed. They’d shared a bed. It’d been a game and a desperate need for comfort.

Hoping Darius felt something similar, Gray released a nervous breath and set down his plate. Then he eased away from the arm around him, only to hesitantly slip his hand into Darius’s instead. And the relief hit him like a wrecking ball when Darius gave his hand a squeeze and linked their fingers together. Nope, definitely no regular rules of social conduct here.

The next best thing had been when they’d had sex. It hadn’t been a matter of freedom or captivity. It’d just been Darius and him. Somewhere else.

“Hey, come here.” Darius scooted back a bit to be able to lean against the wall. “I have to get back to the bridge soon. We’re waiting for an update from Willow, but I think we both need this first.”

Need what? Confused, Gray followed with every intention of sitting next to Darius. But Darius had other plans. He adjusted their positions so Gray was between Darius’s legs.

“Do you have a fever?” Gray blurted out. Because it was one thing to hold hands for a minute. A whole other to…all but cuddle.

Scratch that, it literally became cuddling the second Darius chuckled and drew Gray flush with his body. Bizarre how easy it was to ignore physical hurt when emotional warmth dripped into him like molten syrup.

“I promise you you’re free, knucklehead.”

Something cracked inside Gray, and he swallowed hard. He also relaxed. He sank into Darius’s embrace and let out a shuddering breath. He couldn’t believe it fully, that he was free, but he could put his trust in this man.

“I owe you everything.” Gray’s voice came out thick.

Darius exhaled a laugh and pressed his lips to the top of Gray’s head. “One day, I’ll tell you why I get into these situations. Then you’ll know I’m the one who owes you.”

Yeah, that made no fucking sense whatsoever.

Gray didn’t push for an answer now, though. He dug up an ounce of humor instead. “I thought it was ’cause my stepdad pays well.”

Darius’s shoulders shook with silent amusement. “You didn’t buy that, huh?”

A small smile played on Gray’s lips as he turned carefully and rested his cheek on Darius’s chest. “No, not really.”

It wasn’t sex or freedom or blinding desire, but it was comfort. Gray got what he craved for a moment. He was able to close his eyes and take a deep breath without fearing for his life, and he could allow himself that sliver of hope again.

Right then and there, they were somewhere else.

Just you and me.