Chapter 19

Not sure whatelse to do, I headed back to Swim Central and found Ethan. “Can we talk, Cap?”

Ethan picked up his coffee and led me into a room that smelled of disuse. “Used to be the changing area, going to rip out the plumbing and turn it into an equipment locker.”

I noticed hooks on the wall, low benches, the showers in the corner, but could already imagine it being a hub for Shadow Team.

“Did you talk to August?” Ethan sat on one of the benches. “I get the concerns about the guy.”

I took a moment before I answered. “It’s hard for him to see the bigger picture when he’s focused on revenge, but I also believe he’s more determined than ever to make things right.”

Ethan’s expression was somber. “I’ve seen too many good people turn into loose cannons out there, Ryder. Too many lives lost because someone couldn’t control their anger or pain.”

I understood the truth in Ethan’s words. “I get it. I’ve seen it too. But there’s something about August. He wants to protect Annie, to ensure she never has to go through what she did again. And he wants closure for himself. He’s not doing anything that we wouldn’t do.”

Ethan sighed; his gaze distant as he considered my words. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a weary kind of wisdom. “I get he’s trying to survive, and protect what matters to him, and we know that these gray situations often arise in complex, real-world scenarios where there are no simple or straightforward answers…”

“You sound like you swallowed an encyclopedia.”

Ethan dipped his chin. “Research.”

“There’s no black-and-white here. Amos is responsible for the hit, and maybe, that is what set him on this journey, but now…”

“He’s seen a lot. But sending him out into the field without some kind of psych clearance could put the rest of us in danger.” An understanding passed between us, born from years of experience and the weight of our shared past. In a world where the boundaries between right and wrong blurred, we knew that, sometimes, all we could do was hold on to our humanity and hope to make a difference in the lives of those we cared about.

“Then, we ask for volunteers. I’ll go. Just August and me if it comes to it.”

Ethan snorted a laugh. “So, I go to my team of heroic idiots and suggest they choose whether to run headlong into danger? Any guesses how many will say they’ll do it? All of them.” I couldn’t argue with that. “Including me. But I have a new responsibility to the team, to the new guys, to you and Luca, and to myself.”

“Then, don’t offer it to anyone else—August and I will go in with a two-man op?—”

“That’s not how this new team works.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew that I would have August’s back for whatever it took to get to Amos—I’d seen the way he’d stared when he’d shut that damn door on us. I owed him a takedown.

“One question,” Ethan murmured.

“Sure.”

“You’ve gotten close to August,” he began.

I met his gaze head-on. He’d seen the kiss and had to know that something had happened. After all, he’d hooked up with Josh after a skin job had gone wrong and look at them now. Passions flared in intense situations.

“As close as he’ll let me, which isn’t that close.”

“Do you trust him not to go off-book? Do you trust him to play his part in the team?”

“I’ll watch him every moment.”

Ethan sighed. “That wasn’t what I asked you.”

“I don’t have an answer.”

“I can’t put the team at risk on you saying you’ll watch him,” he said.

“I understand, but he’s a team player, a SEAL to the core, and he’s got a heart, Cap.”

Ethan was lost in thought for a moment. “I’ll work something up with Aria, ask for volunteers to go in alongside you and August.”

“Thank you.”

We stood and met in the middle, clasping hands before he pulled me into a bro hug. “Watch him,” was all Ethan said, and then, we separated, him back to Swim Central, and me to find August.

As I contemplated the decision to trust August, I did wonder for a moment if I was being led by my dick, seeing things in August that weren’t there, then placing the weight of an entire team’s safety on his judgment.

So how did I fix this feeling?

First off, I needed to track August down.

I found him on the walkway and stood close to him, inhaling the scent of the leather jacket he’d borrowed from someone, and the citrus of his shower gel. I wanted to hold hands, but it was stupid. Both of us watched Annie as she played tag with one of the other kids. Her laughter echoed in the air, and a faint smile tugged at my lips, but when I glanced at August, he was distracted, torn, and I wished I knew what to say. His hands were in fists, he was vibrating with tension, and every time it seemed she might look up at us, he moved out of sight. Eventually, she grew tired and settled on a sofa with a teddy bear, drifting into a peaceful slumber. Josh, along with his son, Ben, were down there with some other kids, and I knew Josh kept a protective eye on her.

“Annie is safe here,” he whispered, “all these people care for her.” Then, he turned to leave.

I couldn’t help but break the silence. “You doing okay?”

He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to find Amos.”

My gaze remained steady, and I voiced a question that had been lingering in my thoughts. “What’s your plan when you do find Amos?”

His jaw clenched. “What do you want me to say?”

I leaned against the wall. “What do you want to say?”

“More fucking questions,” he muttered, then scrubbed at his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know,” he admitted, frustration lacing his voice. “Amos took Annie, he had no reason to, which means he had to be responsible for killing James, which… look; I can’t let him continue to affect our lives. I have to confront him, for Annie’s sake, for the people he’s hurt, and for closure.”

I reached out a hand and waited for him to take it, only a little surprised when he grasped it and laced our fingers. August and I stood there in silence.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” I said.

He nodded, then tugged me closer for the gentlest of kisses. I wished for a moment that the world would fade away, that we could escape the shadows of our past, but reality had a way of holding on, and we had to confront it.

“I need…” he began.

I knew what he meant, and it was right to head back to my room. I squeezed his hand gently, signaling that it was time to go, then I turned and started walking, leading us through the corridors of the facility. August followed, our steps matching, tension so thick I could cut it with a knife.

As soon as my door shut, I crowded him against the door. He could take me down in seconds—I’d seen his moves—but I’d fight him for every inch.

“This could be more,” I said, leaving no room for discussion.

“Yes.”

“I’m negative, PrEP, condoms, vers, you?”

He blinked at me, as if getting that out of the way was something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“They ran tests here, always condoms, and I…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I need.”

I rested my forehead against August’s. There wasn’t anger there, no need for being out of control, and I tugged him to the bed.

Maybe August just needed to forget.

I let him go only so we could strip down to bare skin, and as soon as I could, I had him in my arms, easing him back until his knees hit the mattress, and then, it was game over as we tumbled backward. I want so much of him, greedy, caging him with my arms, not resting against his belly, deepening the kisses until we were both fighting for breath, leaving a lingering sweetness on my lips, a taste that made every kiss feel like a delicious indulgence. I focused on his neck, whispering random nonsense against his skin, falling to one side, and bringing him with me so he could decide how much pressure he wanted where it hurt. He arched his neck when I tugged at a nipple, his breathing shallow as he groaned, and I twisted the nub until he was humping the air, dropping himself so our cocks slid together.

Both of us gasped as I arched up into him and worried at the other nipple. “Fucking hot,” I muttered, cradling the back of his head, and tugging him down for another kiss, my other hand tracing patterns on his nipples and down his chest with its light dusting of hair. God, I needed more, and I scratched at his skin, taking his mouth, then biting his lower lip, soothing it with my tongue as he took my hands and pinned them above my head.

“You bit me,” he said, making it sound like a threat. He buried his face into my shoulder and sucked a mark there, his teeth worrying at the skin as we rutted.

“You taste good,” I defended. “Sex and fucking and jeeeezzz…” I whined the last when he held my hands in one of his and pulled and twisted my nipple the same as I’d done to him. They were hardwired to my cock, and I wanted his mouth there, sucking me down, or his hand—oh my god; I needed another kiss.

I was lost.

He shuffled back, one foot on the floor, releasing my hands. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

His growl made me even harder. I thought I was making him forget, but I couldn’t even recall my name. Then, he hunched over me, one hand for balance, determination in his eyes, and he ran his free hand from my nipple to my belly button, out to my hips, tracing the scar I’d gotten from a blade, and the one from a bullet fragment that had ricocheted off the wall I’d been behind. He leaned down and kissed each one, as if they mattered to him, and my cock bumped his face when he moved closer. I whined low in my throat, and he chuckled—he fucking snickered—then cupped my balls, smoothing his thumb over them.

“I want to taste everything,” he promised me.

I arched up again, the glide of my cock against his skin was overwhelming, and I pushed down the growing want to come on his face.

God, that would be good.

He lifted my cock, nuzzled my balls, then his clever mouth was on every part of me, fingers tapping my hole as he sucked and nibbled and sent me wild. His finger dipped inside, but then, he rolled off, and for a moment, I thought I’d broken him.

“Stuff,” he managed, his hand on his cock, slipping it from base to tip as I scrambled to the drawers next to my bed and yanked open the top one, pulling out lube and condoms. I don’t know how many I grabbed, but they were a rainbow of color on the pale bed covers.

“You’re vers,” he panted as he worked his cock, a thing of beauty—cut, flared, mine. “I want you in me, but I can’t. I don’t think I can…”

His operation, his pain. “Easily fixed,” I murmured, then handed him the lube and crouched over him, offering him my ass. “Get me ready.”

“Jesus, Ryder…”

He opened me up, tugged me back, kneading my ass, swiped his tongue from my balls to my hole, darting and sucking and licking, and fuck… it felt good. So good. He pressed lube inside, his finger crooking and brushing my prostate, and I cursed, then curled over like a damn pretzel, anything to get my mouth on his cock, which I worried and teased, then swallowed to the base.

“Turn… around…” he managed, “I want to see your face.”

I scrambled to obey, nearly kneeing him in the face, which could have been awkward if it hadn’t broken the tension and made us grin at each other like idiots. He edged back on the bed, but his feet were on the floor. I rolled on a condom, then slathered him with lube, pushing more in my loose ass, then with my knees spread, I clambered until I straddled his lap.

“More,” I demanded, even though it was me who lined up, circling his cock, holding it still as I pressed down. The burn was exquisite, it was everything, it was… him… and after initial resistance, I pushed out. He slid in an inch at a time, and I controlled it all, until balls-deep I was in his lap, kissing him, letting my body adjust as he cradled my face as if I were something perfect.

I shifted a little, experimentally, closing my eyes into a kiss as he groaned low in his throat, then I clasped his shoulders, holding myself steady.

I gasped into the kiss. “Open your eyes,” he pleaded.

I opened them, lost in his stormy gaze.

Then, I set a rhythm, rocking, rolling, up, down. He tried to follow me at first, but it was too much, and this wasn’t about pain, it was supposed to be him forgetting, it was supposed to be pleasure. I kissed his neck again, biting his corded muscles, and with every sharp nip, he shivered, and I was the most powerful thing in this fucking room, to have control over this strong man. I could break him apart, heal him one orgasm at a time, this was everything.

“Close,” he mumbled, warning me as I ground down on him, balancing myself on his shoulders, then tugging him to hold me close, upright.

The intimacy was more than I’d ever felt, his lips on my skin as he held me, and we rocked together. Then, he gasped against my lips and threw back his head, his muscles cording as I licked and sucked the marks I’d put there. He stiffened, his eyes wide, his mouth open when I stared up at him, and he was coming inside me, and it pushed me over the edge. I cursed and writhed, and he stilled me, holding me so close I couldn’t move, my cock trapped between us, as my orgasm tore from me and I called his name, seeking a kiss, desperate for more as August kissed me.

We were done. Finished. Complete and together.

“I’ve never felt…” he whispered.

“Me neither.”

“This could be something. Right?”

He eased out, and I tied off the condom and discarded it. Then, we fell down next to each other, both sticky with cum and holding hands.

The words hit me hard—I wanted to stop him from going for Amos, to tell him how much he meant to me, to rescue him. But the words remained stuck in my throat, a knot of fear and longing. I loved him, and I knew it. It was more than just friendship; attraction had become lust, then had evolved into something deeper, but I couldn’t give a name to it when we were about to walk headlong into fuck knows what. I’d already seen him shot, nearly dying, and there was so much more I wanted to do with him. “It could be everything.”

“What if I…” He stopped, then, and dipped his gaze.

“What if maybe this could be love one day?” I asked, and he shot up so fast I thought I’d end up on the floor.

I had this desperate need to have a future for him—with him—and somehow love had crept into my thoughts, in all the bits where we made each other smile, or connected over the little things. It was in the way he gripped me when he’d been buried inside me, his eyes wide, begging me for something, or the way we lay in a tangle of limbs, trusting. He’d nearly died. I’d watched him sleep by his bed. We’d seen each other, and then, the kisses, and more, and there it was.

Love.

He didn’t have to do the rest of his life alone. I would be there to help him connect with Annie, to show him that there was life beyond the things he carried with him. But when I thought to tell him that, I saw the hesitation in his expression, and the situation was so fucked up that the words refused to come out. I was someone who took action, and now I was paralyzed by the fear of losing him.

“Pretend I didn’t say that,” I said.

“No, I’m falling for you, too,” he offered, soft and gentle.

“You are?”

He smiled. “Isn’t that what you want to hear?”

Guilt gripped me. “Is that what you want to say?”

Then, he kissed me. “Yes. I’m falling for you, and your stupid reading, and the poking at me, and I can see some kind of something in the future maybe.” His eyes widened, and he stumbled away, covering his mouth.

“Sounds good to me.” I grabbed him for a real kiss, heated, a promise of this maybe turning into something real; then, I went for a washcloth and came back to find him spread out in the middle of my bed.

“That should be me,” he mumbled and yawned.

I waved it away, wiped him and myself, then snuggled up to him again. He wrapped an arm around me, holding me close, and I rested my head on his chest.

Our phones both vibrated and I reached for mine. “Wheels up in sixty,” I read out, passing his battered phone to him.

“Same,” he said, and I could see the relief in his expression. “We’re doing this together then?”

I pressed a kiss to his clavicle where a bruise was forming. I’d marked him, he was mine now.

“We’ll always do things together,” I reassured him. “Shower seems a good place to start.” He groaned, and with his hand pressed to his belly, he rolled up and scrubbed his other hand over his face. “If you think you’re up for it, I might blow you?” I encouraged.

He snorted a laugh. “You can try.”

So, I did.