10. Kai

TEN

Kai

I knocked on the door and Zach opened it immediately, as if he'd been waiting for me to arrive—which he probably had, given the 911 text that had pulled me out of deep sleep and sent me barreling to his place at speed. He'd moved into the place outside San Diego when Charlie had landed in his life, and it was telling that I got a place an hour away—sue me, I had nowhere better to live and at least that way I was close to my godson.

Well, not officially my godson, but as good as.

"Is C okay?" I snapped and pushed past Zach to find Charlie.

Zach grabbed me. "Charlie's fine."

I shrugged off his hold, and headed to the nursery, winding my way through the chaos that had gotten worse in the months since Zach had brought Charlie home with him.

"Gotta find my sugar!" I called and bypassed the mess to step inside the tiny second bedroom where there was no chaos at all. A crib was in one corner, a changing table next to it, and sleeping soundly was baby Charlie, his red hair sticking up in tufts.

"I only just got him down," Zach said from next to me.

I side-eyed the piles of paperwork on a small chair, recognizing the Sanctuary Shadow Team logo. "Did you read him mission reports again?"

"It works," Zach said and shrugged. "Heard your op went to shit," he added as he walked away from Charlie and the room, leaving me to pull the door nearly closed.

"Who told you that?"

He rolled his eyes at me. He might have taken a leave of absence, coming up three months now, but he was still looped in on existing operations.

"You know how it is," I replied, weaving in and out of boxes and the general detritus of the life Zach was letting build up around him. I'd gotten used to the chaos surrounding Zach. The center of this disarray was something new, though, a large board cluttered with photos, notes, and lines connecting various pieces of information; the old photo of his twin, along with a big pros and cons list.

"What's this?" I asked, and he sighed .

"A solution," he said, making no sense at all.

"Are you finally going to see your brother?"

I peered at the detailed network of intelligence on his twin, Jaxon, along with the list. On the list, the pros, was one word, dad . On the other side was a long list of items, starting with family and safety and ending with the words swing set and sandpit . Jaxon lived a stable life on a picturesque street in San Diego, running his own construction company. The very picture of the life Zach believed he could never have, but making lists about what he did and didn't have for Charlie was new.

" We are going to see him," he said with determination.

I checked his expression, total focus, and confidence. "You're what now?" The number of times that Zach had watched his twin from afar and suddenly we were going to visit. "Wait, you said ‘we'?"

"We're going to take Charlie to him, with a note, explaining the situation because my son needs a stable home."

"Which he has with you," I defended, and then wrinkled my nose at the mess. "Apart from you really need to clean some of this shit up."

"What?" He glanced around as if he couldn't see a thing, but then after the tragedy that had led to Charlie's mother's death, I knew damn well Zach bore the burden of what had happened with self-destructive guilt. It didn't matter how many times I pushed it was an accident, he had a million reasons he should have waited. Sometimes he blamed me for shooting the guards, other times he blamed himself for not thinking the whole situation through, other times he stared in the middle distance and never said a damn word even though I could see what he was thinking.

"The mess," I said again. "This isn't like you," I added.

He grimaced. "Charlie is going to live with Jax."

"That's bullshit, Zach," I couldn't help but counter. "You're his dad. You just need some help is all, and maybe a dog. Every kid needs a dog. Or a cat?"

Zach shook his head, a mixture of defiance and despair in his eyes. "I'm done with this, Kai. I'm not a dad. I don't know how to make a real family, hell I barely date enough to make a connection, let alone start a relationship. I spent too long in the system, and Jesus, I don't even know what a family is."

His words cut through the air, leaving a silence thick with unspoken emotions. It was clear Zach was giving up, but his reasoning felt more like an excuse than a justification.

"Maybe you don't have a conventional family, but you have me," I said, and wished I'd kept my mouth shut when he sneered and shook his head.

"Yeah, like Charlie needs your fucked-up mess around him."

"Shit, Zach?— "

"If you don't help me, then I'll go on my own."

"Zach—"

"I packed some bags for him, clothes, his medical records are inside, and I wrote a letter to Jax. It's for the best. What if I get hurt? What if I can never give this up? What if I'm not built to be the kind of dad he needs. I'm wrong inside…"

He paused, as if he was waiting for me to interrupt, but I wasn't sure what I could say that would make a difference, so I picked up one bag and peered inside. With all of Charlie's tiny sleep suits folded neatly, along with pacifiers, formula and diapers, it was clear this was for the long haul. Not to mention there were a couple of his soft toys, one of them was the stuffed elephant I'd bought him when I'd first gotten a shocked Zach home here.

"You're not wrong, this is wrong," I said.

"I have a job to do. Loose ends to tie up with Shadow Team. I can't work with you and care for a baby. He deserves more."

"Then don't work with me."

His expression shuttered then he placed a hand on my chest. "I need to."

"Please, think about this."

He dropped his hand, turned to the wall, his shoulders tight, then he rounded on me and shoved me back aggressively, but his eyes were bright with emotion .

"I can't be who Charlie needs. You don't care about anything anyway, so help me, or fuck off."

I shoved him away and brushed myself down. It hurt that he said I didn't care—I loved little Charlie, the baby, this tiny flicker of hope in an otherwise messed-up world. Sometimes, I imagined watching him grow up, seeing what kind of dad Zach would be, and maybe I could have been the fun uncle who showed him how to use his first gun or how to take a man down using his hands.

Okay, maybe the psychotic uncle, but hell, I could be fun too.

In what world? The one where Zach isn't imploding, and where I actually give a shit about anything outside my obsessive need to run into danger?

"We're a team," I said, although he didn't want to hear it.

In silence, he scooped Charlie from his crib, then sighed. "Please, just get the bags."

I picked up the two bags, and followed him as he hurried out to the car.

"You drive," he asked, or demanded… I couldn't tell. Again with me driving?

"Sure." We transferred the car seat from his car and then buckled Charlie in, and all too soon we were heading away from his house to the road where Jax lived. We pulled up down the road—a very normal road, with normal houses, and tidy normal hedges .

"Now what?" I prompted.

He checked his phone, nodded, and I saw a tracking app. "They're fifteen out, take Charlie, put him on the porch, then stay out of view and make sure Jax takes him in."

I wondered if Zach might crumble there and then, his expression dead, his jaw locked, but his eyes bright with emotion.

"Do you want to say goodbye?" I asked.

His eyes widened. "He won't know."

"But you will."

He shook his head, not watching me as I unstrapped the car seat and picked up the bags.

"Zach, think about this."

At last, he turned tortured eyes to mine. "I've done nothing else. I killed his mom. I can't be a family like this. I don't know how."

What could I say to that? Hell, I wouldn't know how to unpick everything, from abandonment issues to the guilt eating away at him. I wasn't an expert, but I loved Charlie, and I wanted him safe, and however selfish it was, I wanted Zach back with me, so instead I hooked the car seat over one arm and focused on now. "Last chance."

He stayed quiet.

" Last last chance," I said again.

"Please, just go."

I scouted the area, kept my ball cap low, staying away from any door cams, and working my way through gardens until I came to a hedge dense enough to hide me. One quick step and I had Charlie settled right outside the front door—still sleeping, his blue pacifier bobbing as he sucked. It wouldn't be long before he woke up.

"Hey, buddy, you won't remember this, but your daddy says he loves you, and he'll be back, okay? I'll keep him alive for you."

I kissed my fingertips, then pressed them to his forehead before hiding behind the bush.

I saw Jax arrive, talking to a big bear of a man with grey hair, chatting about something, and then both of them heading to the porch. Who was the other guy? Had Zach vetted him? Was he okay to be around Charlie?

Jax stopped in shock. Then the two men took Charlie inside, and when the front door opened a little later and the big man came out to get the bags, I darted out, startling him. He reacted instantly, dropping both bags, and bending his legs as if he was expecting me to jump him.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Is he agreeing to look after the kid?" I asked, and the big guy seemed confused.

"Who… what… Yeah, of course?—"

"He read the letter?"

"Yes, but?—"

I was gone before he could say anything else. Heading to the car where Zach now sat behind the wheel and had backed up. I climbed into the passenger seat, and we were gone before I'd even buckled in.

Zach was quiet, his knuckles white, but as we neared his house, he cursed under his breath, and froze after he'd parked and turned off the engine, gripping the steering wheel, his breathing shallow.

"Zach? Do you want to go back? We can?—"

"Stop!" Zach yanked at his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, bending at the waist, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. I unbuckled my belt, then grabbed the keys from the ignition before I followed him out, reaching for his shoulder to offer comfort or support or whatever the hell he needed. But he recoiled.

Tears streamed down his face unchecked, his attempts to stifle them proving futile. The pain and anguish were devastating, and his emotions were too raw to contain.

"Let's get you inside," I urged, fumbling for the key he'd given me, and trying not to stare at him as he broke into a million pieces. I could go back, get the kid, make Zach see that this was wrong for him—I just needed to get him inside. The door opened, and I yanked him inside, Zach was still crying, silent tears worse than the noisy sobs, and then I shut the door behind us, and now he could let everything out. Should I hug him? A normal person would offer a hug, right? I touched his shoulder again, but he wasn't startled and he didn't shove me away, so I pulled him in for a hug. He was a head taller than me, and he buried his face in my neck, shuddering with each breath.

I couldn't help but think we fit together so perfectly.

"You wanna go out and hit something? Someone? Go to the range?" I rubbed circles on his back, knowing that once we separated he'd hate that he let me see this side of him, and not wanting to move.

"Please," he muttered, and I eased him away.

His eyes were half closed, his face blotchy from the tears. I cradled his face, rubbed my thumbs under his eyes. We might not be the best of friends, but life had thrown us together as partners, and I was heartbroken that Charlie wasn't here, but it wasn't my place to grieve.

"Please what?" He wasn't making any sense, and I released my hold of him. "You want to hit something? Shoot something?"

"You," he said and then shoved me in the middle of my chest. I hadn't expected the shove, and I stumbled back, but righted myself in an instant. If he needed to hit me, let out his frustration and anger on me, then I'd take it.

I'd do anything for him.

Anything.

"You want to fight?" That was one way of handling the emotion.

His eyes glinted. "Sure. "

We circled each other, difficult with so much shit lying around, and when I dived for him, I was off-balance. He caught me and shoved me away, but there was no threat in his expression, no focus, his eyes remained bright with tears.

"You're not even trying," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Wouldn't want to hurt you," I said in an even tone.

We met in the middle, me able to pivot with my lower center of gravity, him with his extra height and weight, in a clash of limbs, but instead of pushing me away he gripped me and then shoved me down onto the sofa. He straddled my lap, taking me by surprise, and closed his hands around my throat.

I struggled to test the hold. "Is this a new move, big guy?" I deadpanned.

"You need to stop me," he snarled. We stared at each other, and fuck, I was getting hard. I wriggled to relieve the pressure. And his eyes…

His eyes were beautiful, sparking with need and temper.

"Fuck me," I demanded, and I could see all the emotions from anger to self-hatred to want. I saw the moment he pulled back, and I curled a hand into his shirt, holding him steady.

He pressed a hand over mine. "Kai…"

That wondering word was all I was going to get before he slammed his mouth against mine and I was scrabbling for purchase with the taste of blood on my tongue. The kiss was nothing like affection. It was a raw passion with no limit, and fuck, I was there for that.

He reared back. "Kai?" This time my name was a question as he released his chokehold and gripped my shoulders instead. Somehow in all of this he was asking for consent, and my cock was way too interested in the proceedings as I pulled him back to me for more kissing.

"God, yes," I snapped.

We tore our clothes off, threw them aside, scrambled and snarled and fought for control, but I knew what I wanted—him inside me. He found lube and a condom. Fuck knows where he kept it for it to be at hand, and he keened in desperation as he pulled at my jeans.

This was wild.

This was honest.

I kicked off boots, pushed denim and underwear to the floor, then turned to lean over the back of the sofa, ass up and wanting everything.

"You're so tight," he snarled as he prepped me, "and your cock…" He wasn't making any sense as he fed his cock into me and then gripped my hips, staying still before breaching me with something like care. Then, balls-deep, he stopped again.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as if he'd wanted to apologize for what he was doing.

"Don't you dare stop!" I ordered, trying to find skin so I could stop him from leaving. "Harder," I demanded, and after an abortive thrust, he did just that. Every push, every scratch, and snarl had me flying, groaning as his cock filled me, and I clawed at his back and groaned into heated kisses as blood pounded beneath my skin. "Fuck," I whined as he reached for my cock and circled it clumsily, a mess, nothing refined.

My orgasm hit hard, and I collapsed, but Zach followed me down. A couple more strokes, and he tensed and fucked into me, then he was out and rolling off me, crab-walking back until his ass hit the wall.

"Shit," he cursed. "Fuck. Shit."

"It's okay, we?—"

"You need to go."

What? Not even some talking? I should have known this would happen.

I'd known, and I didn't care. I'd wanted Zach since the first day I saw him, and now I got to cross animalistic sex with a brokenhearted man off my bucket list.

"One and done," I muttered and then grinned at him. "S'all good."

I yanked on my jeans, found my shirt, and forced my feet into my boots, tucking in the laces. Then I crouched in front of him, staring into his wide emerald eyes.

"Well, any time you want to blow off steam again… "

"No." His shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor as he processed my words. "This can never happen again," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, then he glanced up at me, that fierce determination back again. "Promise me you won't let me do this again."

I reached out and touched his shoulder, offering him what little comfort I could. "I get it," I said, my voice filled with regret. "I don't like it, but consent is sexy," I said and tapped the end of his nose. "It happened. It's okay. You needed that."

Then I left, and I didn't regret a single thing.

At least, not until I was back in my car heading home, tonguing a cut in my lip, and wondering what the fuck had just happened.

I saw his shattered heart—he hadn't been right since the moment he'd watched Kerry die. As his operational partner, it wasn't my job to fix him but to keep him alive.

For Charlie.

And absolutely no sex. Or kissing.

None.