Authors: Sara York
Davis rested his elbows on the table and closed his eyes before dropping his head to his hands. One thought raced over the next, twisting and turning, colliding together until his brain felt overheated and ready to explode.
How had his parents done this? Why had they lied for so many years?
He looked up, staring at the man he’d known as his father. More questions flew through his mind and he discarded them one after another, unwilling to speak them out loud. But the questions kept pounding him, twisting his thoughts, making his brain ache. The need to know the truth grew, building like a mushroom cloud from the bomb dropped by Duff.
Ryan placed his hand on Davis’s back, and for a second he thought about rolling his shoulders, brushing off his lover, telling everyone to go to hell so he could storm out and suffered in seclusion. He didn’t need any of them, didn’t need anyone. He’d lived his life so far without anyone being close. Hell, after his mom’s death, even his dad wasn’t close and now he knew why. Duff wasn’t really his dad.
Davis’s gaze zeroed in on Duff’s. “Why? Why the fuck didn’t you ever tell me this before and why are you telling me now?”
Duff swiped his hand over his face and shook his head. “It’s been eating at me since you came back. I wanted to tell you so many times. Hell, when you were little, I kind of forgot how we’d gotten you. I shoved it from my mind because I loved you. Beth had carried our baby to term, but Sheila was so sickly, and there was something wrong with her. Then you were there, and Sheila was dead. You were going to die. Goddammit, you were going to die.” Duff wiped his hand down his face—his very pale face, and shook his head. Their gazes met again and he saw the pain. “Davis, they were desperate—you can’t imagine the despair in her eyes. Katina knew you would die. She knew they would kill you—torture you because Volikov
had done it to others. Her husband had been on the inside and knew what those men were capable of. You would have suffered and died.”
“Why did they think it was Volikov?” he asked.
Duff shook his head, his eyes narrowing even more as his brows knit together. “We were hiding in plain sight. It was dangerous. The only way to get information in and out was through the normal channels. At one point, I guess Volikov’s name had been used. We didn’t mean for anyone to die, not like that.”
“Is Volikov, I mean my parents—fuck, this is screwed up. Are they—”
“Brezhnev had them killed hours after we left. Our baby was made an example of. I saw photos. It was brutal. Had we left you with Katina, you would have suffered, and though it makes me so angry what they did to Sheila’s body, she was already gone and you were alive. Katina and Volikov had given so much and there wasn’t a way to save them, but we could save you.”
Davis closed his eyes again, trying to digest this indigestible hunk of information. It was all too much and he jumped up, heading for the door. No one tried to stop him. No one followed as he left the house and made his way to the horse corral. He climbed up on top of the rail, settling as he watched the horses prance around. The sun was low, almost behind the mountains. A chill filled the air, but he didn’t care. He almost wished it were colder, harsher, just so he would suffer more.
A few moments later, Ryan showed up and climbed up the corral fence, settling beside him. They were silent as they watched the horses meander. Ryan reached out and took Davis’s hand, weaving their fingers together. Neither of them spoke. The sun slid lower, leaving the landscape almost dark. Just before the sun disappeared, the sky turned a brilliant purple with pink and orange shoots of light splashing across the now dark blue, nearly black sky. It was amazing, and he knew he would never have seen any sunsets like this if Duff and Beth hadn’t of taken him away from Russia.
Ryan climbed down from the fence and held out his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Davis nodded and jumped down, pleased when Ryan took his hand again. They headed down a well-worn path that the vehicles drove to get out to the pastures. After they’d gone about three hundred yards, Ryan stopped and tugged him into a hug, holding on tight.
He clung to Ryan, feeling that if he didn’t he’d be flung off into space, unable to find any semblance of normal. They stayed like that for a long time, long enough for the sun to fully set and the moon to rise. A wolf howled in the distance, dogs yapped, and some other animals made noise. The sky was clear, which meant the temperature would drop fast. This time, the wind was bitterly cold when it blew off the mountains. Goose bumps rose on his shoulders and down his arms.
“I’m here beside you. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here to support you through this,” Ryan said.
Davis shook his head, pain filling him. “I don’t even know what
this
is.”
“Neither do I. I mean, you’ve been raised an American, but what if the wrong people found out. God, this could be a nightmare for everyone.”
“What do you mean?” Davis asked.
“It could start a war. Or you could be made a pawn of our government. What if some dickhead politician got it in his little-tiny mind to kick you out of the country? Immigration being the freaking hot button now, and you’re not really a legal citizen of the country, not technically. They would have a field day making you their pawn in some stupid political race. Someone would have an issue. Just think about it, what if some stupid, halfwit politician tried to make your life hell to set an example? You’ve been a CIA agent and now you’re here, working as an assassin. It would be a nightmare.”
“Fuck, I hadn’t even thought of that. I don’t know anything other than America. I’m a patriot. I love this country. To find out that I’m not really a citizen—hell, that I’m not really a Whitaker—that can’t be real.”
“You are who you are,” Ryan whispered.
Davis stepped back and shoved Ryan away. He saw the hurt in the other man’s eyes but he couldn’t stop the anger or the pain that lashed through him, leaving him desperate for answers. “What the fuck does that even mean? Really, I am who I am? Who the fuck am I?” His voice was harsh, splitting the night, silencing the animals around them. Slowly, he heard the horses shuffling their hooves, a coyote howled, things in the woods started to move again.
Ryan grabbed his arm, wrapping his fingers around Davis’s wrist. “You’re fucking strong. You don’t bend. You’re honest. There are so many good qualities that I see. When we were in Boston, running from that wild man, you didn’t just say fuck it and put everyone in harm’s way. You're a good man. I may not have known you that long, but I’ve seen the best of you in the worst situation imaginable. You are good.”
Davis drew in a slow breath, trying to believe the words Ryan said.
Am I good? Could I actually be good? What if I fail? What if I’m actually bad but just haven’t turned yet?
There were too many questions, and he had no answers. After a few deep breaths, he stepped closer to Ryan and placed his hand on Ryan’s waist. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I don’t know anything and I don’t know what to do.”
“Come back to the house and eat. We can watch TV or we can go to bed, but we can’t stay out here, it’s getting too cold.”
Davis nodded and followed Ryan to the house. The lights were on but no one was outside to meet them. When they reached the porch, Grant stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him.
“Davis, I don’t know what’s going on or how you’re going to handle this, but Duff’s health is failing. I know it’s not fair, and I know what happened was wrong. I’m not sure what you can do, though.”
Davis shook his head and took a seat on one of the porch chairs. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I mean, how… what would happen?”
“I wish I could tell you how to deal with this. I don’t have any idea how I would feel. Maybe there isn’t an answer. I wish I could tell you how to act, what to say, how to be, but I don’t know.” Grant took a seat beside him and placed his hand on Davis’s arm. “For now, I think it would be best if no one other than me, Marshal, Duff of course, you, and Ryan knows the truth.”
“Why, so Duff doesn’t have to deal with what he did?” Davis spit out as anger filled him anew.
“No, so you can have time to think without having to talk about it. None of the other guys have any idea what’s going on, and they won’t if we don’t tell them. Ryan can help you figure out what you want to do without involving other people’s opinions.”
“What do you think about all this?” Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t feel that he was overplaying the issue.
“If it were me learning that the man and woman who had raised me weren’t my parents, and they'd lied about it for years, I would be devastated. I don’t know if I could handle it, really. I’m not sure what I would do. I would be mad, hurt, and afraid. You have a good man in Ryan, so lean on him, but understand this—I don’t see you any differently. You’re still a man who can be trusted. We’ve done so many security checks on you, we know you very well, and I didn’t go soft on those background checks just because you’re Duff’s son—”
“I’m not his son, though.” Davis didn’t know what to think. He wished everything were simple again, but his life hadn’t been simple for a very long time.
“No, you’re not, not biologically, but we didn’t know that at the time. As far as we knew, you were Duff’s kid. So really, you’re not a risk as far as I’m concerned.”
Numbness settled over Davis. The thought of moving physically hurt him. How could anyone do what Duff had done? He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
“Let’s get you some food,” Ryan said.
He followed Ryan, not because he was hungry, but he needed something to occupy his mind. Food was placed in front of him and he took one bite after another until his plate was cleared. The atmosphere at the ranch was subdued, with most of the guys getting their food and taking it to another location, like the dining room or the movie room. After he'd finished eating, Ryan led him out of the kitchen to their room. Ryan’s touch was gentle as he pulled and tugged at Davis’s clothes, kissing his shoulder and neck, letting his hands graze over exposed flesh, bringing goose bumps to the surface.
Ryan led him into the bathroom and turned on the tub faucet, searching under the sink before pulling out a bottle. His warm smile was balm to Davis’s soul.
“A bubble bath will make you feel better,” Ryan said.
Davis tried for a smile but it fell flat. He stepped into the tub when Ryan told him to.
“Wait just a second. I’m going to get in, too,” Ryan said.
He stood still in the middle of the tub, the water almost to his knees. Once Ryan settled, Davis took a seat and lay back against Ryan’s chest. He let his eyelids drift closed as Ryan massaged his shoulders, arms, and chest. He wasn’t in the mood to have sex, and Ryan seemed to get that. When the water turned cool, Ryan helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in a huge towel, leading him to their bed. They snuggled under the covers, and Ryan held him close, kissing him every few minutes as Davis drifted off to sleep.
At four in the morning, Davis woke with a start, his mind buzzing with questions. He left the bed, pulling on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before heading to the kitchen. The light under the microwave was on, illuminating a small circle of the room. He poured a cup of coffee and turned, spying Duff sitting at the table. He stalled, anger and pain surfacing anew.
“I’ll leave, if you want,” Duff said.
“No. Everyone is asleep and now is as good a time as any to chat.”
Duff nodded and stood, turning on the oven before pulling a bag out of the freezer and placing a few muffins on a tray before popping them in to warm. He set a timer for eight minutes and sat down across from Davis. They were silent for a long while. Words seemed to fail him as he searched for something to say.
“You came to us when you were only a few weeks old,” Duff said.
“Did I cry for my mother? Did I miss her at all?”
The timer rang and Duff got up, pulling the food from the oven before sitting down across from Davis, shoving a muffin his way.
“Yes, but your mo—Beth was still nursing Sheila and it was easy to just nurse you. I think it helped. You grew used to us within the week.” Duff paused and shook his head. “It really was a difficult time. We were traveling by boat, then we got on another boat, and finally a train. The days were long for all of us, and honestly, I’m surprised we weren’t found out. In the end, we were on a plane to England then a British Navy vessel took us out into the ocean where we transferred to a United States Navy ship. You were as happy as any baby in those circumstances could be.”
He didn’t want to be filled with anger but he couldn’t let it all go. “Did you two ever think of telling me?”
Duff shook his head and stared into his mug, tilting the cup a little before meeting Davis’s gaze. “We couldn’t. We didn’t tell anyone the truth. Those of us who were over there at that time vowed never to speak of it. We told our handler at the CIA you were ours. They knew Beth was pregnant but no one stateside knew you were Volikov’s kid. We asked for an American birth certificate for you, and they gave it to us. We named you Davis because Volikov had called you David. We wanted it to be as close to your real name as possible. Things were different then, and no one questioned the birth certificate. As far as the officials in Virginia are concerned, you were born in Virginia and are a citizen of the United States.”