Chapter 3

Three

Gable Brandeis

I ra’s in a mood, and from the dark glower Ridge throws my way, it looks as if my brother is, as well. It’s fine. By now, I’m so used to Ridge’s doom and gloom it barely registers. He’s been like this since the injury that forced him to retire from the police department we both worked for.

“Frustrated is fine. Grouchy is fine. At risk because of a temper tantrum is not fine.” The force in my command has Ira’s whole body moving before he even seems to realize it.

Not for the first time, I wonder if our target, the asset we’ve been hired by the University of Mariposa to protect, knows he’s a natural submissive. He obeys me so prettily, even when I can tell his mouth wants to argue.

“Come help me with dinner. I want to discuss an idea for how we can alleviate some of this pent-up frustration. For both of you.” I add the last bit so Ridge knows he’s not off the hook.

Since Ridge and I own the company and I make the schedule, we end up working most protection shifts together. When we opened the firm, I did it this way so I was always around in case Ridge’s injuries interfered with his duties, but it’s been years since his hip replacement locked up during a protection contract.

About eight years ago, my brother had been working in the financial crimes division as penance. Our captain had found out Ridge was scening with his daughter at the local kink club. Saying Captain Fisher had been pissed would be an understatement. Jonie may have been an adult, but she was still his precious innocent lamb as far as he was concerned. Fisher busted Ridge’s ass down to blue collar and fraud investigations as a punishment.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t have foreseen the permanent impact it would have. Ridge and his partner were headed to investigate a fraud report at the local credit union when a robbery in progress came through dispatch. Although it was an all hands on deck situation, Ridge and Jeff, his partner, had still gotten there first and spooked the getaway driver.

The two of them had both been mowed down by the robber’s accomplice when she tried speeding away. Jeff didn’t make it. Ridge survived, but with a shattered pelvis, his days of policing from anywhere but a desk were done and dusted.

“We didn’t talk about this,” Ridge grumbles.

There’s a reason for that. If he has a chance, my brother will shoot down this idea faster than I can finish explaining it. Not because it’s a bad idea, but because it entails a whole lot of things Ridge will think are impossible.

“We’re going to talk about it now. So come on; potatoes need peeling and veggies for salad need to be prepped. I’ve got the roast going already. Let’s go.”

I turn and head down the short hallway. They’ll follow me. Ridge because he wants to argue with me and Ira because he’s a good, obedient boy. In the open space of the kitchen, I gesture to the pile of salad vegetables on the kitchen table with a chopping board and knife already laid out.

“Ridge, the salad please.” I gesture to the chair, hoping he’ll follow my silent direction to sit down. He’s been pacing behind Ira since we came on duty this evening to relieve the daytime duo who stays with Ira while Ridge and I sleep during the day.

“Fine. Bossy fuck,” Ridge grumbles.

Ira follows him into the room, taking the seat in front of the pile of potatoes and waiting pot of salted water. I stop in the doorway, blocking the exit. There’s no way I’ll risk one or both of them storming out before I fully explain my plan. Since I thought of it, I’ve been working out the details for far too long to risk it.

“It’s been three months since Ira left this condo. Four months since he came under our protection,” I start out. The first month we were on the job the goal was to shelter in place with him, guarding his house with him in it.

“Aware,” Ridge grunts while rough-chopping bell peppers and pushing them into a neat pile at the side of the chopping board. Ira says nothing, just watches me with his soft brown eyes magnified by his glasses.

“We get breaks from here. From each other.” I gesture between Ridge and myself. “He doesn’t.”

“Again, aware.” The groove between his dark brows deepens as his suspicion grows.

“Not to be crass, but as far as I’m aware, you haven’t had a moment of privacy since we got here, Ira.” I phrase it almost as a question.

But I already know the answer. It may be a step too far to know as much as I do. Doesn’t matter. Something in Ira calls to me on a level no man ever has. I’ve known I was bi since my teens, even if I generally default to relationships with women. Still, there’s something about Ira, something sweet and unique, even through his brilliance and strength.

My interest and awareness of him goes well beyond what would be considered appropriate for a client. I could pretend that changes things, but it doesn’t. I haven’t had a real relationship since before Ridge got hurt, and while Ira is a client, he feels like more. He feels like mine.

The girlfriend I had when Ridge got injured left me because she felt neglected. No real loss, that one. Ridge is more than my brother. He’s my best friend and the only family I have left in the world. Nothing matters to me more than being there for him, and I have zero regrets about it.

“You know I haven’t.” Ira’s answer to my quasi-question draws my focus back to the conversation at hand.

“I’ve arranged a field trip. Tonight. Still in the building. And before you lose your shit, it’s secure.” I add the last bit for Ridge’s benefit.

My brother’s always played his cards close to his chest when it comes to his sex life, but I see the way he watches Ira. Like me, there’s care and affection in his eyes when he’s observing the younger guy. I don’t know if he feels as strongly about our client as I do, but I know he feels something. Whether he’ll take the opportunity I’ve created remains to be seen, though.

“How secure?” Ridge growls, even as Ira lights up like a kid at the holidays.

“Really?” Ira asks, hope lifting his voice from the droopy sadness of the last few days. When he filled out the protection detail survey, he marked his sexuality as being pansexual. Every time I see the light of excitement in his eyes, the memory of that little check-marked box rocks me.

Knowing everything there is to know about the assets we protect makes asking invasive questions like that necessary. It’s never mattered to me, but then, we’ve never had a client like Ira Gilliam, either.

“Secure enough we can keep Ira safe up there. And it’ll be exactly what he needs. What we all need.” I inject confidence in my voice, knowing they both have to trust me. Especially once I confess the arrangements I’ve made in secret. Ridge might blow his lid, but I’m positive this is the right move.

I take a deep breath to steel myself for any arguments he might make and brace myself for their doubts, ready to argue whatever it takes to make this happen.

“We’re going upstairs. Tonight. To Club Sin,” I tell them.