My heart starts to thump wildly in my ribcage. “Do you know which prisoners got out?”
He gives two unfamiliar names.
But the third turns my blood to ice.
James O’Casey.
Wendy’s father.
“We have to get out of here,” I growl as soon as the gossip mongering inmate has moved out of earshot. “Now.”
“I can’t do it,” Ruger breathes, gripping the shank in his shaking hand. “I can’t stab you.”
“Oy.” I grab the sides of his head, looking him hard in the eye. “Yes, you fucking can. You don’t have a choice. Wendy is in danger.”
“Wendy.” He says her name like a prayer.
“Remember, I have to stab you as well. You’re not the only one delivering a blow.”
Ruger shakes his head adamantly. “It’s not the same thing.”
I drop my hands from his head. “Why?”
“You’re not…you’re not made for violence like me.”
“Obviously not. I’m made to be sipping a pina colada on a beach in Barcelona.” That makes him laugh a little, but he goes right back to chewing the inside of his cheek, turning the shank over and over in his giant paw. “Come on now, next time we run a con, I’ll use the scar to glamorize myself as an international mercenary. Our target will eat it up.”
His brown eyes turn quizzical. “Are there going to be more con jobs, Klay?”
Wendy’s beautiful face materializes in my mind. Her sweet, husky voice fills my ears. The possibility that she’s in danger right now causes a drop of sweat to travel down my spine. As does the prospect of leaving her for any length of time to commit our usual frauds. “I don’t know, mate. I just know we have to reach her as soon as possible. We’ll figure out the rest once she’s safe. I can’t…think past that.” My heart climbs into my throat, urgency slithering through me like a serpent. “Now stab me.”
Ruger squeezes his eyes closed a moment. When they open, they’re cold and focused, like I’ve seen them before in many a physical altercation. This is my best friend, the killer. The violent offender. The bruiser who has been on the street since he turned twelve, left to fend for himself. His hand shoots out, catching me in the designated spot and I wheeze, dropping to my knees with a pained grunt. It’s drowned out by Ruger’s howl of anguish.
Chapter 4
Ruger
We stand in the shadows across the street from a modest house.
A light comes on inside and suddenly there is Wendy, framed in the window.
I lurch forward with a heaved sound, my entire body hardening at the sight of her. So soft and delicate in a nightshirt, her long, blonde hair loose around her shoulders.
“Steady, mate,” Klay murmurs, his voice thick with need, keeping me hidden in the darkness with a hand on my shoulder. “Thank God she’s safe. Now we have to keep her that way.” He takes a moment to let the relief settle. “Try and remember that we are two prison escapees showing up unannounced. Let’s try and not come on too much stronger than that.”
“I need to get inside of her again,” I growl, palming my straining cock through my stolen pants. “Soft. So soft and tiny around me.”
Klay is breathing harder now. Trying not to look at me.
He’s been doing that a lot lately.
I used to try and limit the amount of time I spent making direct eye contact with him, too. Doing so always made my briefs feel extra tight. Made them chafe me in embarrassing places. But I’ve given up the battle now. My best friend is royalty in my eyes. Extraordinary. He always has the plan. Always confident and smooth where I’m a bumbling idiot half the time. If I didn’t have him to guide me, I’d still be homeless and begging for food on the streets of Baltimore. I’d be lost. Klay is my compass, even if he’d like to be rid of me.
I wish I could give him what he wants, but I can’t.
Me and Klay met when we were twelve. I’d been kicked out by my single mother for eating too much, taking up too much space in an apartment filled to capacity with children. Klay had just run away to escape an abusive father, disappearing while they were on vacation in the States, hoping to get lost in the wilds of America. His dad never came looking for him—a fact that blows my mind to this day. Klay is everything a man could want in a son.
He’s quick witted. Funny.
Attractive.
A knot gets stuck in my throat and now I’m splitting a look between Wendy and Klay, the horrible throb between my legs making it hard to breathe. How can I thirst for two people, of different sexes, in the same way? I don’t know. I’m not sure it would be like this with anyone else. Just Klay and Wendy. During those too brief moments in our prison cell, I experienced a sense of belonging that I never knew enough to hope for.
If I don’t feel it again, I think I might die.
There’s a pinch in my gut when I notice Klay pressing a hand to the wound in his side.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” He shakes himself, drops his hand. “No, it’s fine. A mere scratch.” His blue eyes travel over to me, resting briefly on the shoulder bandage. For just a split second, they darken with distress, before it vanishes and he’s once again aloof. “And yours?”
I try not to make it obvious that my pulse is racing.
Klay is concerned about me.
“Fine,” I manage thickly, remembering how my come looked dripping down his diamond cut abs. Dammit. I fucked up. I went too far. Now I’m cursed with the memory of how good it felt to release on his unblemished skin. Just like I’m cursed with the memory of how tight and wet Wendy felt sitting on my dick. How her small tongue felt tickling mine, her little hips pumping hungrily in my lap. Jesus, between Klay and Wendy, the pike in my pants is never going to subside. I’m a downed power line, sparking and dancing on the sidewalk, in need of repair and they’re the only ones who can help me.
“I think it’s late enough now,” Klay says, scanning the neighborhood. “We’ve covered our tracks well, but we don’t know what’s being broadcast on the news. It could only be a matter of time before they connect us to Wendy. We weren’t exactly subtle last week about wanting her brought back.”
“I believe your exact words were, ‘get her back in this cell or I’ll gut you all like fish.’”
“Sounds about right,” Klay deadpans, his chest hollowing and expanding quickly while watching Wendy move through the lit-up house. “Damn it to hell, she’s beautiful. I wondered if I’d imagined how much she…affects me.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. There’s something about her presence that wraps around a man like magic. Being in the direct path of those eyes, her inquisitive attention, is so exhilarating, I can still feel it on my skin. In my veins. “You’ll take your turn first.”
He acknowledges my statement with a tilt of his lips. “The question is, will she want it?”
Confusion clouds my mind. “Of course she will. You’re…”
Klay turns and pins me with a look. “I’m what?”