Vigilante 01 - Who Knows the Storm (18 page)

Mr. White sent Cade a huge spray of lilies with an apology—he would miss their weekly meeting but promised to make it up to him—and a reminder to give Sam the letter.

Shit. He’d completely forgotten the second letter with all the drama of getting Sam out of the police station.

After twenty minutes, Cade gave up. He tried to use his pass on the door, but it didn’t work. He tried the phone and got a “voice mail full” message.

Cade went upstairs and got into some warm clothes. He was headed up to deliver Sam’s letter.

T
HE
DAYLIGHT
made the trek a little easier. Cade didn’t worry as much about baby gangbangers and drug dealers. Of course he also didn’t linger, walking as fast as he could up to Ninety-First. The denizens of the neighborhood gave him the same treatment, though—out-and-out staring as he hurried to Nox and Sam’s home.

Nox answered the door in full scowl.

Then blinked when he saw Cade.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Cade tried false brightness, but it collapsed under the weight of his burdens. “I have another note for Sam, and, uh—I need your help.”

“I think I owe you at least one favor,” Nox said, opening the door a little bit wider.

They settled in the kitchen, Cade leaning against the counter as Nox poured them coffee. He spilled the story about Alec, worry permeating each word.

“Do you feel like Rachel might have something to do with it?” Nox asked, handing him the mug.

Cade frowned. “Rachel? Um—she’s a hard-ass at work, but I don’t think she’s capable of hurting someone.”

Nox’s expression flashed something dark. “How well do you know her?”

“Why are we talking about Rachel? Alec’s the one missing.” Cade tamped down his annoyance as he sipped his coffee. And tried not to react to the bitter taste.

“And she’s the one lying.”

The fierceness took Cade aback—he ducked around Nox and walked to look out the back window.

“Who did you think she was? When you saw her?” Cade asked.

Nox didn’t answer.

“I’ll get Sam so you can give him the letter.”

S
AM
OPENED
the envelope with Nox standing over his shoulder. Sam didn’t crack a smile or get excited like he had before—he barely gave Cade a second look as he stood there in his sweatshirt and jeans, hair a mess and glasses smudged.

He blinked down at the note and gasped.

“My mom’s name is Jennifer and, uh, my father’s name is Roy Grimes,” he whispered. Nox made a sound next to him—anger, maybe—and Sam’s face fell. “I mean….”

“Wow, that’s great, right. You have names,” Cade said, trying to navigate this heavy moment and feeling painfully out of his depth.

“Dad, can I… can I use the tablet for a little while?” he asked in a small voice, but Nox shook his head.

“You’re grounded. Go upstairs,” Nox said shortly.

“Dad.”

“Now.”

Sam gave Cade a sad look and disappeared up the stairs.

Nox started pacing as soon as the kid’s door slammed. “No fucking way,” he muttered. Then he stopped and glared at Cade. “No more notes.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I get this is stressful for you, but think about your kid, okay? He just wants to find out what happened to his folks.”

“His parents are dead,” Nox snapped. “Your friend Mr. White is fucking with him and… and….” He stopped, visibly reining himself in. “No more. Those names are a fucking lie and a trick. Do you understand me?”

Cade nodded. He’d seen this guy kick a drug dealer down the stairs, but that was nothing compared to the barely contained anger he was simmering with now. “Okay. No more notes.”

Nox exhaled. “You need to stay away from Rachel.”

“She’s my boss!”

“She’s not what she seems.”

“Great. I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Con Man,” Cade snapped. “I came up here because I thought you might want to help me find someone’s who’s missing—that’s your thing, right? Playing hero?”

“Not for the people making a buck off my city by turning tricks,” Nox spit out.

Cade’s gaze narrowed. “Fuck you.”

He got two steps away when Nox grabbed his arm. “Sorry—just stop. I don’t want you to leave.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

N
OX
FELT
like he was about to explode in a million pieces.

Mount Sinai’s building yielded almost three hundred boxes of Dead Bolt. He’d set the first floor ablaze the night before, just after another truck took off for the downtown location.

He set that on fire too.

It felt like every little dealer he’d kicked in the head over the past few years had joined together to make all his efforts worth exactly nothing.

Sam stayed in his room, furious and hurt by Nox’s actions, pulled away from his job—his only freedom—and denied access to the tablets or phones. Locked in his room like a child when Nox went out.

Cut off.

“It’s for your own good” fell on deaf ears.

How could he explain after all these years? He hadn’t needed an excuse for so many years—he’d filled the role of mother and father to Sam, raised him, and then one day the question came up.

Sam was seven. In a lesson from his online school, they were discussing family trees and Sam asked.

Who was his mother?

He could have answered then. He could have explained Sam was his brother. Explained their mother and father were dead, but then—Nox thought—he would have to say more.

Natalie and Carson Boyet were dead. So was their son Nox. The family was gone as far as everyone thought, and Nox—well, he had convinced himself it was the only way to stay safe.

So he spun a story for little Sam, a story that divorced him from the sad facts of his life. It seemed so much smarter—a way to stop the questions and tie it all up in a neat and loving bow.

Nox had found Sam and saved him and protected him. That part wasn’t a lie.

And now? It wasn’t Nox’s paranoia anymore. Like his mother had been right about the city falling into ruin, Nox’s fear of the outside world was becoming justified.

Jennifer and Roy Grimes.

Jesus.

Only one person knew about him. Only one person could have written that name for Sam to see. Mr. White was a front, and Rachel Moon was a lie.

Because Jenny was alive.

And now, this ballsy boy with the beautiful face and fierce determination wasn’t going to listen to his warnings either.

He held on to Cade’s arm, feeling it flex under his grip.

“I’m sorry for saying that. And I’ll see what I can find out about your friend,” he said slowly.

Cade relaxed slowly. Their bodies were curved close, like they had been at the Iron Butterfly that night…. Nox felt his body respond even as he fought to stay on track.

“Thank you.” Cade seemed to drift closer, then shook his head. “I should go.”

“Why don’t you stay a little while longer?”

Nox didn’t want to be alone.

Chapter Thirty

T
HEY
DRANK
tea in the kitchen, sitting on stools at the island, thighs touching. Cade kept meaning to pull away—this inexplicable attraction was mixed up in so many layers of lies; every conversation was a game because they didn’t trust one another—but he never did. He felt drunk with the desire, even knowing this was a client.

Although he was never actually a client, after all, was he?

“I need to go,” Cade said again, even as Nox ran his warm palm down his back.

“You have time.”

Cade leaned forward, lifting his ass slightly off the stool.

An offering Nox took as he slid his hand lower, pushing and pressing until Cade was bent over the counter, legs spread, Nox’s fingers notched between his thighs.

He felt stupidly easy, which was hilarious considering his line of work.

So hard it was starting to hurt, Cade tried to move—up, away,
something—
but Nox moved quicker, pushing the chair aside to crowd behind him. He leaned forward, lining up their bodies perfectly, rocking his hips forward.

“You’re gonna fuck me on your counter?” Cade asked, swallowing down a moan. “With your kid upstairs?”

“Or I could just push you down to the floor and stick my cock in your mouth until you shut up,” Nox whispered back, molding his hands down Cade’s chest in long, luxurious strokes until he reached his hips. He turned him around in the cage of his body so they were still perfectly aligned.

So they were doing this with masks firmly in place. It was probably safer that way, because Cade had gone about fifty steps past his rules into unchartered territory.

Cade licked his lips. Then he did it again when Nox’s expression darkened into something that gave him weak knees. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nox traced his finger around Cade’s lips.

Cade opened his mouth, catching Nox’s fingertip as he went around once again.

Nox smiled, another of those genuine ones Cade found so fucking fascinating—then slipped his finger farther into Cade’s mouth, watching his lips with those too-blue eyes.

Cade was good at this, he knew, puckering his lips around Nox’s finger with a tight seal and sucking him in. His eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated on the motion of his tongue, the drawing in and movement of the flesh in his mouth.

“Show-off,” Nox murmured.

Cade didn’t answer. He felt Nox’s dick against his, growing with every grind and pump of his hips. His eyes flickered open for a second as he opened wider, and he took two more of Nox’s fingers into his mouth. He rubbed his tongue over the undersides, tasting the tang of Nox’s skin.

Nox didn’t have to tell him he was good at this or that it was getting to him—the proof was in his ragged breaths, the way he was gripping Cade’s ass with his other hand like it was trying to get away.

Cade sucked harder.

Maybe he was an attention whore. He liked hearing Nox’s throaty growls, liked the vibrations of want fluttering through his body and filtering through to Cade’s chest.

He ran his tongue over the groove of each finger, twisting his head to take him deeper.

Cade let his mouth pop off with a dirty wet sound, looking up at Nox with heavy-lidded eyes.

Chapter Thirty-one

M
AYBE
IF
I let it happen this once, I’ll stop wanting it so badly
, Nox thought, knowing full well that was a bullshit lie he was feeding himself.

He reached down with his free hand, flipped the button of his jeans, and dragged the zipper down, sighing with relief as the pressure eased and his dick sprang free. “Cade,” he said hoarsely, licking his lips. Nox tucked his free hand at the back of Cade’s neck, caressing his Adam’s apple with his thumb.

Nox didn’t push—didn’t have to. Cade dropped to his knees without hesitation, breathing soft puffs of air on Nox’s dick.

“God, yes,” Nox murmured, cock jerking just from the way Cade slid between his legs. He thanked whatever deity listening that he had some kind of control. For the moment, anyway.

Cade didn’t go the seductive or the coy route; he opened his mouth and slid his slick tongue down the underside of Nox’s dick, dipping his mouth down as far as he could into Nox’s pants, then jerking back up and sucking the head between pursed lips.

The moan that Nox let out was dirty and too loud, but God, he’d never felt something so perfectly intimate in his life. A few times at the casinos, to keep up appearances. Furtive touches as a young teenager with Patrick all those years ago, when he was optimistic and still thought he might eventually fall in love.

Nothing compared to Cade sliding down to take him all the way, bumping the back of his throat, and oh—Nox grabbed the countertop with both hands as Cade kept swallowing, massaging his length in the wet heat of his mouth.

“Good… fuck, so good,” he gasped, fighting himself over whether he should keep his eyes open and take the risk of watching Cade destroy him as he bobbed and sucked his cock.

He’d wanted this since that first night at the Butterfly, and he was done fantasizing—done jerking off in the shower imagining that he had Cade on his knees in front of him and feeling like a dirty bastard for turning him into wank material.

Cade fluttered his eyelashes, hollowed his cheeks, and moaned deep in his throat, leaving Nox light-headed as he grabbed the back of Cade’s head.

The eyelash flutter alone just about made Nox go insane, rocking his hips forward, unable to keep still a second longer.

Nox held out as long as he could, pushing himself and Cade to the point where he was trembling and desperate, fingers getting tighter and tighter in Cade’s hair, if only to disguise just how much his hand was shaking. He gave no real warning, just a hard tug to Cade’s hair and a loud yell, head snapping back and hips snapping up as he came down his throat.

Cade carried the perfect whore routine down to the swallow, the held-back choke, the sensuous cleaning of Nox’s dick with his tongue. Nox loosened his grip on Cade’s hair, and he sighed as Cade slowly slid off his dick.

“Sure shut me up,” Cade muttered, dropping his hand to his own erection even as he looked up at Nox, lips shiny and damp. “Now come down here and get me off.”

Chapter Thirty-two

C
ADE
GOT
back twenty minutes before his shift started with an aching throat and a fever—he felt like he was going to walk into a goddamned wall.

His entire body throbbed, and Killian kept asking him if he was all right as he stripped down so he could get dressed.

He was fine.

No, really.

So what if the insides of his thighs were reddened from Nox’s beard, or his dick ached from a hand job that made him come so hard he bit his tongue. So what if there was a bite mark on his hip that he had to be careful not to touch or he’d probably come again.

Killian mentioned none of this, just stuffed him into a disturbingly tight pair of navy blue slacks and white button-down, open to display his chest. His dick lay half-hard, curved down his leg, manipulated and placed for maximum notice—Cade was shaking by the time Killian finished with him.