Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (9 page)

“I don’t want your position.”

He swallows the last of his drink, eyeing Patrick. “You’re stubborn. I appreciate that in an associate. Moral as well. That I could do without. But I suppose your morality is an attraction to my son, and I do want him to be happy. But do consider that the appearance of morality is all he really needs.”

Patrick says nothing. He’s never had the patience to be duplicitous and he isn’t going to start now.

“Let’s cut to the chase. I’ll make sure you return to Healing Regional immediately with full access to your patients and all privileges reinstated. All you have to do is a little work for me now and again.”

“You’ll accomplish reinstatement how?”

“By convincing Missy Hammond to call off her lawsuit.”

Patrick feels the trap closing around him. “And she’d listen to you because?”

“Because she listened to my advice to begin with. I’m the one who suggested she transfer her husband to Dr. Maxwell.”

Rage flares impotently, a white-hot flash that Patrick has to choke down. The nerve of this arrogant bastard to interfere with Patrick’s patient is staggering, yet to Tony it seems to be all a game. Patrick taps his glass, the condensation cold and slippery on his fingertips. “What did you gain from that?”

“Leverage.” Tony grins. “For this conversation, mainly. But when my ex-wife called confessing that you and Guglielmo were feigning your love match and begging for my help, everything took a juicier turn. Now I also get to look the part of the devoted father to Kimberly, which always gets her hot and bothered, and I’ve already set the ball rolling for convincing you to be of service.”

Patrick grips his glass so hard it makes his fingers ache, and he takes a cooling sip of club soda. “And what if Kimberly’s right? If we are feigning the love match?”

“That’s easy. If it secured my son’s happiness, I’d kill you.” He smiles almost kindly as Patrick’s gut shrivels. “But there’s no pretense is there? Except, perhaps, between the two of you.”

Staring at Tony, Patrick thinks of insanity and how it runs in families. He wonders how long Will’s mind can hold against genes and the influence of his environment.

“You shouldn’t waste your skills on that Hammond vegetable anyway. You’re better off letting Missy transfer him. Lee Maxwell will do his best to save him, fail, and relieve Missy of that burden, keeping your reputation untarnished.”

“Cold.”

“I hear the same about you.”

Patrick snorts in disbelief. If he was anywhere but Healing, South Dakota, he’d assume he was dreaming. This conversation is too surreal.

Tony lifts his drink in a small toast. “What do you say? Do you want to be back in the OR tomorrow?”

“What exactly is your price?”

“Agree to a little Medicare fraud here and a little pain-killer supplying there. Be my doctor on call. To start.”

“Slavery’s never suited me.”

“I understand your aversion to being under someone else’s control. Your father used you terribly as a kid. I’ve seen your CPS and foster care file.”

The white rage he’d tamped down before pushes up again. Sweat breaks out on his forehead and he clears his throat, trying to keep control. He takes a slow sip of his cool seltzer water to keep any fire from leaking into his voice. “You’re all about breaking laws, aren’t you?”

“Like I said, I knew everything about you before you even arrived in town with Guglielmo. I promise you’ll find me a kinder father than your own. I’ll provide perks you’d never dream of.”

“Let me guess, you’ll let me keep both my hands.”

“And so much more.”

“I’m sure you can find a more cooperative doctor to bully.”

Tony squeezes his shoulder and shakes him lightly. “I’m Italian. I like to keep business in the family.”

“The answer’s no.”

Tony smirks. “I thought it might be.” He swirls his scotch in the glass and studies it as it settles. “Your life and hands are safe, but you can enjoy your little lawsuit.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Your patients won’t.”

Patrick’s gut squirms. “You’re an asshole.”

“I get that a lot.” Tony tosses bills on the bar and stands, leaving the rest of his drink untouched. “Oh, and hey. I’ll be forgiving when you change your mind. I don’t turn my back on family.”

Patrick’s head whirs as Tony leaves. His fingers tap against the bar and he grabs Tony’s unfinished scotch, downing it in a few large gulps. As he hisses and slaps his leg at the burn, the twinky nurse he’d been admiring earlier sits in Tony’s abandoned seat.

“You okay, Dr. McCloud?”

“Just dandy.”

“In that case…” The young man smiles warmly up at him through his lashes. “Can I buy you another drink?”

Patrick doesn’t know the guy’s name and, despite how pretty his dark-fringed eyes are, he doesn’t want to. “No.” He stands and doesn’t spare another glance back.

Once in their room, Patrick heads to the bathroom and brushes his teeth and tongue. He doesn’t want his breath smelling like liquor when Will gets home. He needs Will’s presence like he needs air. Especially if he’s going to fight off the entirely too sane impulse to get the hell out of Healing and as far away from Mobster Daddy as he can.

He wants Will home now. With the calzones, and maybe rope. Hell yes.

Patrick isn’t going to tell Will about his ludicrous conversation with Tony until they’ve both gotten off, and not a minute before. He has a feeling Tony’s a libido killer for Will. Patrick can’t blame him.

Will loves giving blow jobs. It’s a skill he’s cultivated since his teen years, and though he didn’t get to practice much on Ryan, with Patrick he’s putting in plenty of time on his knees. Pride rushes in him like the pulse of blood in Patrick’s cock against his tongue: strong, steady, and surging—pulling him up into a place higher than he was before.

He glances up to see the effect of his work.

Patrick’s eyes are rolled back in his head, and his stomach tenses and releases in rhythm with Will’s sucks. His head rolls gently against the back of the sofa and he groans softly. His hands tighten in Will’s hair, and he pulls Will up and off his cock. Will grins at the slick
pop
and Patrick’s curse as he squirms against the couch.

“Good?”

“Proud of yourself?” Patrick keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah.”

Patrick curses, takes a gulping, steadying breath, and drags Will’s mouth back down his dick again. Salty precome slides against Will’s tongue, and saliva floods his mouth. He lets it slip around his lips, getting Patrick’s cock wet, making it sloppy.

Will’s not sure how long he’s been blowing Patrick, probably about fifteen minutes, but when he got home they’d both agreed: “Sex first, food next, talk later.” After making sure Will’s BG was fine, they’d gotten right to business: Patrick on the sofa with Will between his knees.

Patrick’s shirt is unbuttoned, and his pants are still wrapped around one ankle, but his legs are spread, and Will teases at his hole with a saliva-wet finger. Will’s jeans press tightly on his hard cock, but he’s intent on getting Patrick off. He’s saving his own pleasure for round two.

Pausing for a breath, he uses his hand to keep Patrick right up at the edge before shoving Patrick’s cock back in his mouth, lapping at the leaking head and sucking deep into his throat.

Patrick growls, his deep voice vibrating in the back of Will’s head like an urgent, needy buzz, and humps his mouth in frustration. “Stop teasing.”

Will hums and taps Patrick’s squeezing hole in rhythm to his slurps. He’s happy with Patrick’s cock in his mouth, but the low hum that starts in his veins, an emptiness he recognizes as his blood sugar dropping, means he needs to have dinner soon. So he stops teasing and reaches for the open bottle of juice on the coffee table. He takes a few swigs, and then starts sucking just the way Patrick likes best: pulling his entire shaft in, then sliding up with a long, wet drag before diving down again.

“Puddin’-pop,” Patrick grits out. “Yeah, yeah—like that.”

A spurt of liquid hits his tongue, and Will pulls back to lick at the slit. Patrick’s cock thrums against his palm, rigid and throbbing. “Tastes good,” Will murmurs and then swoops down again.

“Ungh,” Patrick grunts, tugging Will’s hair. “Get me off.”

Will hollows his cheeks, sucks back up, and uses his hand to jerk the base of Patrick’s cock as he works.

“Yes, yeah.” Patrick arches his hips up and his stomach tenses as he clenches Will’s hair in his fists. “Suck it.”

Will slurps hard and steady while Patrick whispers filthy things and struggles to get there or hold back, thighs clenching and stomach quivering.

“Gonna come,” Patrick groans.

Will gets ready to swallow, and Patrick’s thighs jump and his asshole pulses against Will’s finger.

“Fuck!” Patrick curls up, his hips bucking, and his cock shoves deep into Will’s throat. Choking, tangy spurts of come fill Will’s mouth, but he swallows all of it down while Patrick shakes and curses, tugging hard against Will’s hair.

“Stop, stop,” Patrick whines, holding Will down on his dick despite his words. “Too much. Stop.”

Will lets Patrick’s cock twitch in his mouth until Patrick loosens his grip, and then he pulls off with a wet, sweet slurp. Patrick falls back to the sofa, panting and rolling his head limply back and forth. Sweat shines on his forehead and in the notch at the base of his neck. He’s trembling all over, and Will beams up at him, his own cock throbbing against the placket of his jeans.

“Good?”

“A+ cock sucking,” Patrick whimpers. “Wins all the awards.”

“I know.”

“Mmm.”

Will puts Patrick’s foot back in the right pant leg, and helps pull them up. Patrick’s not much help as he stares up at the ceiling, awash in the afterglow and still panting softly.

Once Patrick’s pants are secure, Will crawls between his legs again and wraps his arms around Patrick’s slim middle. He nuzzles aside Patrick’s still-open shirt and rubs his used, bruised lips against Patrick’s treasure trail. Patrick gently runs his fingers through Will’s hair as quivery little aftershocks jolt him again.

Will spreads Patrick’s shirt open, sliding his fingers against Patrick’s skin. He admires the ruddy buds of his nipples and can’t resist licking them. Patrick still strokes Will’s hair as he reaches toward Will’s zipper with his other hand.

Will shakes his head. “I’m saving myself for the main course.” He licks Patrick’s nipples again, enjoying Patrick’s shiver.

“If this was the appetizer, will my balls survive the entrée?”

His smile feels silly and a little sloppy. “I hope so. It’s gonna be me. Tied up. At your mercy.”

Patrick tugs him away from his nipples and stares down at him with sated eyes. “Puddin’-pop, you’re gonna drain me until I can’t walk, aren’t you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And I’m going to make you shoot so hard you forget your own name.”

Will’s dick swells painfully and he presses it against the sofa cushion. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” Patrick’s eyes gleam. “But first, dinner.” He shoves Will away with a spent sigh and stands, buttoning his shirt halfway as he approaches the table.

Cock aching, but willing to wait as part of the fun, Will follows, sitting down to the thankfully still-warm calzones Patrick is lifting out of the Luigi’s bag on the dining table.

Over dinner, Will’s lust cools enough for them to have a real conversation. Patrick asks about his meetings with his mother and Nonna, so Will fills him in. Though Patrick rolls his eyes a lot and mutters snide comments under his breath, he doesn’t seem too disturbed that he’ll have to wait a week before getting back in the OR, and he seems even less surprised to hear about the situation with Kimberly.

“You don’t seem worried,” Will says, trying to cut the cheese string from his calzone with a fork. It’s a nice treat to have a cheesy, carbohydrate-laden meal. A small benefit of his frustrating lows of late. “Why not?”

“I agree with your grandmother.” Patrick shrugs, looking away and busying himself with adjusting his silverware until it lines up. “It sounds like your father thinks we’re in love despite your mother’s best efforts.”

Will tilts his head. “You’re keeping something from me.”

Patrick’s eyes go slightly wider. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to tie you up with that rope you brought.”

“Oh.” Will flushes, and a stupid, helpless grin sneaks onto his face. “Well, obviously, I want that too. But what’s that got to do with you hiding something?”

When Patrick answers, Will marvels again at how very bad Patrick is at lying. He doesn’t even bother to try. It’s charming actually.

“I’m hiding that I had a drink with your dad, because I don’t want to get sidetracked from the part where I do things to you that make you sweat and beg and come.”

The warmth blooming in his chest withers. “You had a drink with my dad?”

“Well, I had club soda. And some scotch.” He shifts anxiously in his chair and stares at Will. “I brushed my teeth.”

“This has nothing to do with your teeth or scotch or…I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”

“I was going to tell you. Later. After you shot a load or two. Or three.”

“Sex! It’s always sex!”

“You want it too,” Patrick says incredulously.

“I do, more than you know. But you have to be honest with me. I can’t deal with more people in my life being untruthful. Especially not you.”

“I was honest. Bluntly so. I told you exactly what I want to do to you and why I wanted to tell you later.” He rubs at his forehead and sighs. “But if you have to know right this second, then, yes, your grandmother is right. Your father thinks we’re crazy in love and he wants us to stay that way.”

Will shakes his head, confused. “Which means what?”

“It means he saw us last night, took our…friendship for
twu wuv
, and now wants me to join him in felonious criminal activities as a ‘welcome to the family’ gesture. Oh, and he’s holding the Hammond case, which apparently he arranged, over my head until I agree to do so.”

Will sits back in his chair, staring at Patrick. “Oh my God, and you were just going to have sex with me before telling me this?”

“Do you or do you not want me to tie you up and—”

“Yes! I do! But not right now.”

“See? This is why!”

Will takes a slow breath and reminds himself Patrick isn’t like other people. He doesn’t think about things the same way. “I do want to have sex with you. Later. First, you have to tell me everything about your talk with my father.”

Patrick’s fingers tap against the table and then he sits up straight, picks up his fork, and starts to eat again. “Fine, but note this is done under protest. Let the record show I wanted to get to the good stuff first.”

“You can’t have dessert before dinner.”

“You’re wrong. Dessert before dinner is the number one perk of being a grownup.”

Will isn’t going to be diverted. “Tell me.”

Patrick sighs, shoots a sad look toward the bed, and then, using short, abrupt sentences that make Will want to shake details out of him, explains how he went down to the bar for a club soda, ran into Tony, talked mafia business, and left a twinky nurse sitting alone at the bar.

“Wow. I can’t believe him.”

“The man’s got nerve.”

“Varun Choudry hit on you?” Will’s stomach curls in on itself weirdly.

“Who?”

“He knows you’re mine.” He goes hot and cold all over.

Patrick seems oblivious, his face going through several contortions before he simply asks, “What?”

“I mean, he knows you’re my husband.” Will rakes a hand through his hair, the betrayal twisting around in his gut and slipping up his throat and out his mouth. “I showed him around the hospital when he first came here as a travel nurse. I offered to see about arranging a Holi event in town if he was still around this spring. I’ve been
nice
to him.”

Patrick throws up his hands. “I don’t even know his name. Pretty eyes. Nice ass. Whatever.” He doesn’t seem to understand, and Will feels a sweep of relief that his jealousy isn’t completely obvious. “I told you about your dad, now finish up your calzone and test yourself so we can have sex.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Will crosses his arms over his chest. “Because we need to talk more first.”

“I knew this would happen,” Patrick groans and falls back in his chair dramatically. “Look, I said no to being a mafia drug supplier, he thinks we’re in love, we’re not in immediate danger, and I ignored the pretty nurse boy. Can’t we
please
get naked?”

“Soon.” Will picks up his fork and takes a bite of cheese and crust. “First, we’re going to talk about one more thing.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“All those years in AA make you think everything has to be dragged out into the open and dissected. Guess, what? They don’t.”

Will doesn’t give in and Patrick’s eyes roll up and threaten to stay that way, but finally he meets Will’s gaze again. “Go on. What do we have to talk about now?”

“Today, at the hospital,” Will starts out but Patrick cuts him off.

“No. I can’t talk about my patients.”

“She’s not your patient right now.”

“She will be again soon enough. Once that yahoo hospital jerk gets back from China next week. You said it would all be cleared up.”

Will holds up his hand. “You’re right—she’ll be your patient again next week, so we’ll talk about Addison now, while she’s still with Dr. Lerma.”

“Why? It’s not your business.” Patrick rubs a hand over his hair, like he’s brushing away something he doesn’t want to deal with, before his fingers start up again on the table.

“You’re my husband. You
are
my business.” Will swallows hard, shifting uncomfortably. That sounded wrong, like the “you’re mine” had sounded wrong—but felt right. He waits for Patrick to point out that their marriage is a sham, but Patrick goes very still and says something else instead.

“Don’t you have enough pieces of me already?”

They stare at each other and Will only has one thought—
I want all of you
—but he says something else. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Patrick sighs. “All right, what do you what to know?”

“Usually, you hate talking to patients, but you were on fire today to talk with Addison. Why?”