THE MAN could hear his heart furiously pounding as he clutched the phone, Malvetti’s angry words drowning out the noise around him. He’d been so close to ending this nightmare. So close to getting the kid. He couldn’t believe his luck when he’d found out where she was. He’d almost had his freedom. It had been practically in his grasp, but now Owen and the baby were on the run again. But not for long. There were only so many places they could hide. He would find them. And then he would get his life back.
He had no idea why Malvetti wanted the kid. He certainly didn’t seem to care that she was at risk, only that Owen had managed to elude him. That Owen—anyone, even—had dared to take what belonged to Malvetti. He had a thought, a slight twinge of something, before he blocked it out. It certainly wasn’t guilt. He’d passed that a long time ago, paying for his mistake over and over until he had thought he would drown in guilt and debt. But it was nearly over. All he had to do was give Malvetti back what belonged to him.
OWEN DOZED for a few hours lying on the floor on the blankets Mark had given him. He opened his eyes blearily as Mark poured some dried dog food into a dish for Bailey. He’d never even thought of that.
“Do you have a dog?” Owen asked, looking around, then over to the couch, where Lucas slept. Owen had woken a few times to see Mark checking Lucas, but in between, he’d sat in the corner with his laptop.
Mark watched as Bailey licked the bowl clean and then lapped up some water. “I foster some dogs for the local shelter when they get too many,” he said quietly. “They tend to give me puppies that don’t need walking.” He said it matter-of-factly, with no trace of bitterness. Owen’s eyes strayed to the chair, and he wondered, not for the first time, what had happened.
Mark wheeled over to Lucas and felt his pulse again. “He seems to be okay, but I’d still be happier with antibiotics.” He fell silent, then glanced at the window. Owen watched him. It was just getting light. Lucas moved slightly, and Owen hurried over.
“Get him some water,” Mark instructed and wheeled himself back out of the way. “I have some travel mugs in there,” he said quietly, pointing toward the cupboard. Owen hurried over, pulled one out, and filled it. Lucas groaned again as Owen got nearer.
“Hey,” Owen said, sitting down carefully so as not to make the couch bounce. He tipped the mug a little and just wet Lucas’s lips. Lucas pressed them together and opened them again but didn’t open his eyes.
“Try some more,” Mark said.
Owen slid his hand around Lucas’s neck and lifted his head, then poured a little more water onto his lips. Lucas swallowed, and encouraged, Owen tried some more. Lucas gulped, then coughed and grunted in pain. Owen could have cheered when his eyes blinked open.
“It’s water,” Owen said. “Do you want any more?”
Lucas didn’t reply but nodded, and Owen held the cup to his lips. Lucas seemed to be able to drink okay, and relief washed over Owen, leaving him a little shaky. He laid Lucas’s head back and watched him take a couple of steady breaths. Mark wheeled himself to the small table where he had been working and shook out two pills from a bottle. He came back and passed them to Owen. “He can have these, now he’s swallowing. It’ll hurt like a bitch.”
Lucas’s eyes flew open as soon as Mark spoke, and Owen almost wanted to step back at the hatred that flared in them.
“What the fuck?” Lucas nearly roared and tried to sit up. His cry of pain was immediate, and Owen grabbed his arms.
“Stop it. You’ll start bleeding again,” Owen scolded, and firmly pressed Lucas back down.
Lucas glanced at Owen in complete confusion. “What’s he doing here?”
Owen hesitated. Lucas obviously didn’t remember.
“You came to me. You needed someone to fish that bullet out of your gut,” Mark replied evenly, then swung his chair around and wheeled himself out of the room. Owen heard the bedroom door close a few seconds later. He searched Lucas’s face.
“You told me where he was, saying he was a doctor. I didn’t know he was your brother,” Owen explained. “I wanted to find somewhere to call 911, but you wouldn’t let me.”
Lucas blinked a few times, then nodded and relaxed back a little.
“Take these pills,” Owen encouraged.
“No,” Lucas gasped out. “We need to get moving.”
Owen laughed shortly. “And go where?”
“I don’t care, so long as it’s not here,” Lucas groaned.
“Fine,” Owen said. “Then we’ll get in the car, and I’ll drive you to the nearest ER like I should have done last night. Except who knows if you’d have still been alive when we got there?” He stood up, and Lucas caught his arm.
“No, you can’t.”
“Okay,” Owen agreed. “As soon as you can get yourself to the car, we’ll go.” It was an ultimatum without it actually being one. He didn’t think Lucas could actually sit up without help, let alone walk anywhere, but Owen stood back. Lucas took a few short breaths, grabbed the back of the sofa with his left hand and heaved himself up.
Or tried to.
He went so pale, Owen thought he was going to pass out again. “Lucas.” He rushed forward and helped him lay back down. Sweat broke out on Lucas’s brow. “You can’t go anywhere unless it’s in an ambulance. If you insist on leaving, then I will take Mia and drive off. Mark can call the ambulance for you after I leave so they can collect you.”
“No—”
“I have no choice, and neither do you,” Owen snapped. “Make a decision, because it might snow, and I need to find a shelter before we get stuck.”
Lucas stared at Owen. “I can’t stay here.”
This time Owen heard Mark come back into the room, but he didn’t turn around. “Why, Lucas?”
“Because he thinks I killed Stevie and Tory,” Mark said without inflection, as if he was commenting on the weather.
Owen swung around in astonishment, then turned back to Lucas expecting a denial, but Lucas kept silent. His eyes, focused and unforgiving, stared at Mark.
“But—” Owen started to say something, then stopped, not sure he should ask.
“They were in a hotel when it caught fire. It was an explosion. A gas explosion. I was just heading back up the stairs when it happened, and the force from the explosion knocked me back down five stairs. It wasn’t far, but the way I landed was enough to do this.” He pointed to himself and his chair.
“At least you lived,” Lucas snarled. “You lived while they burned to death. While they died. In agony.”
Mark’s nostrils flared. “They were in bed,” he whispered. “They would have been asleep.”
“And that makes it better?” Lucas yelled in fury.
Mark opened his mouth but then closed it. He shook his head.
Then it had been an accident. Owen looked at the sheer hatred shining in Lucas’s eyes and tried to weigh that up with how gentle he had been with them. How protective of Mia and caring with Bailey. He understood resentment, but this went way further than that. There was something else… and then understanding slammed into him like a freight train. He must have made some noise, some sound of understanding, because Lucas’s focus turned on him. “Yes,” he said and pressed a hand to his stomach. “The bastard that used to be my brother was having an affair with my wife, and he took them from me. Took them and got them killed.” Lucas spat out the last words, and his face contorted in pain.
“Lucas, please don’t,” Owen whispered.
“She left a note,” Lucas carried on, forcing out the words, and Mark glanced up. Owen stared from one to the other. Lucas focused on Owen. “It was waiting for me when I got home after the accident. She’d taken everything because she was going to start a new life and—” He swallowed. “I wasn’t going to see Stevie again because he wasn’t mine.”
He glanced at Mark, but Mark was staring at the floor. His shoulders slumped as if he had no fight in him.
Lucas finally looked at his brother. “It was like losing him twice.”
Oh God. Owen looked at Mark. Was he really saying that Mark was Stevie’s father?
Mark raised his eyes to Lucas. “She wasn’t running away with me. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. I took her to the hotel because she wasn’t in a fit state to drive anywhere.”
Lucas laughed coldly. “Whatever you have to say to justify it to yourself.” Lucas closed his eyes, his face a mask of pain.
“For God’s sake, I’m gay.”
Complete silence met Mark’s words, but then harsh disbelieving laughter echoed through the cabin, ending with a hiss as Lucas pressed his hand on his side.
Owen had no choice any longer. “Enough is enough.” He wouldn’t put them through this. Lucas opened his eyes in confusion. “You put your life at risk for me. You got hurt. It’s hurting you even more being here because you wouldn’t let me take you to a hospital.” He stood up. “I’m sorry for what you’ve both been through, but I won’t put you in this situation any longer. My mistakes are my own. I’m going to find somewhere to lay low until we get closer to the grand jury hearing, and then I will call the Marshals.”
“You can’t.” Lucas reached out a shaky hand, his lips pinched tight in pain, and Owen threaded his fingers through Lucas’s.
“I have no choice,” Owen said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. Now that he knew what had happened, he wouldn’t make either of these men relive their pain.
“You can’t,” Mark said into the silence, and Owen looked up, a denial on his lips. But Mark wasn’t looking at him—he was looking at the window—and Owen’s heart sank. It wasn’t just snowing. The blizzard had come on so thick and so fast, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere for a while.
LUCAS DREW a shaky breath. His stomach was on fire.
“Please?”
He opened his eyes and saw Owen holding two tablets in his hand and a cup of water. He didn’t want to take them, but he didn’t know how much more pain he could bear. If they were to have any chance of getting out of here soon, he needed to at least be able to stand up. He opened his mouth, and Owen dropped the pills on his tongue and then held the travel mug. He swallowed gratefully and then winced again when he realized his bladder was full. He glanced around, wondering how the hell he was going to make it to the bathroom, or indeed, where it even was.
“I guess you’re going to have to use this,” Mark said flatly, wheeling himself back into the room. Lucas hadn’t even noticed he had gone. It was a plastic bottle for peeing in, like the ones they had in the hospital, and Lucas immediately understood why Mark would have it. “I couldn’t suture you up, despite you needing it. If you move, it will likely rip them open. If you open that wound up again, you may be forced to go to the ER anyway. It’s up to you.” Mark set the bottle down on the floor and wheeled himself over to the table. He picked up his laptop and put it on his knee, then left the room again. Lucas heard a door close.
“Do you need some help?”
Lucas shook his head instantly and swallowed, willing himself not to redden, although why he should feel embarrassed was beyond him. Owen was just a guy.
Liar.
Owen wasn’t just anything. But even if he thought he could sort out in his head exactly what Owen was, now wasn’t the time. He looked over at Mia, who was snuggled in a nest on the chair, watching them both. Then he glanced at Owen. He wasn’t going to be able to do this lying down. “You might have to help me sit up.”
Owen frowned. “I think that’s a bad idea.”
Lucas could feel the flush crawling up his neck, and Owen shot him a disgusted look. “You should be so lucky,” he said flatly, which of course made everything ten times worse. Lucas swallowed. He didn’t mean that Owen found him irresistible.
“I…. Would you at least prop me up?”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Owen huffed out but gently eased Lucas up and stuffed two cushions behind him. Lucas clamped his lips tightly closed, because it really fucking hurt, and Owen passed him the bottle. Lucas’s fingers were shaking so much, it slipped. Without another word, Owen quickly and efficiently unzipped Lucas’s pants and positioned the bottle. “Pee,” he ordered.
It was over in a minute with a minimum of fuss, and Lucas kept his eyes closed the whole time. He felt Owen’s fingers barely graze him as he lifted his shorts back up and zipped his pants. Lucas blew out a relieved breath once he knew Owen had gone to the bathroom. That hadn’t been as bad as he had feared.
He took another two or three steady breaths and felt the pain in his side ease a little. Owen came back into the room, and he heard him talking to Mia and opened his eyes. She was sitting on Owen’s knee.
“Is she okay?”
Owen nodded. “She’s had far more excitement than any seven-month-old baby should have, but physically she’s fine.”
Bailey yawned and stood up, pointedly walking to the door.
“You’re kidding me,” Owen said and looked out the window at the fury outside.
“Well,” he said, standing up and putting Mia in the makeshift playpen. “I guess if you’ve gotta go.” Mia obviously didn’t like being relegated to the playpen and made her disgust known very loudly. Lucas huffed in frustration that he couldn’t help, but at the moment, he wouldn’t trust himself with a baby. Hell, he couldn’t even hold a plastic bottle. Owen shot her an apologetic look as he opened the door, and even Lucas felt the blast of cold air. Owen grabbed Bailey, who was giving the distinct impression he was going to change his mind, and pushed him out the door in front of him. Mia’s wails tripled in volume.
“Hush, Mia, he’ll be right back,” Lucas tried to soothe her, but Mia cried like the world was ending, and he wasn’t surprised when Mark wheeled himself back into the room and went straight over to the playpen.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mark murmured, bending down to lift her up. Mia, of course, stopped crying immediately.
Traitor.
Mark solemnly wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked up. “The dog?”
Lucas nodded, not trusting what might come out of his mouth if he tried to talk, and he stared at Mark. He’d seen him twice in three years. Once, right after the accident, when Mark was in the hospital and had called, begging him to visit. Lucas didn’t know why, to this day, he had gone. He’d never have believed his brother—who’d always been there for him—could have ever done this to him. Then he started adding things up. The number of times he’d been on his twenty-four straight and Mark had called at the cottage to check on his family. At the time, Lucas had been grateful. He’d thought his older brother had his back… when he’d probably had Tory on hers.
He screwed his eyes up at the image. The disgust. He’d walked into that hospital room and he’d given it to Mark with both barrels. He’d told him if he ever tried to contact him again, he would kill him. And he had meant it. Mark had tried to deny everything. He remembered Mark saying something about him arriving just as Tory was packing, but the words were flung at Lucas’s back as he stormed out. The second time he had seen Mark was in court, when the cops had proved it had been the owner who had set the fire deliberately, thinking to cash in on the insurance… only he hadn’t survived the explosion.
He supposed Mark hadn’t known that Tory had left the note, explaining she was going to meet her lover. If it hadn’t been for that damning piece of paper, Lucas might have believed Mark’s lies.
He’d hated his brother for so long, he was exhausted. He couldn’t believe he had told Owen to drive here. He didn’t even know why he had remembered that Mark was now living at a friend’s cabin. He, Mark, and Tory had even stayed here a couple of times during skiing season. Mark enjoyed skiing and so did Tory. Lucas has always preferred hanging out by a cozy fire with good company. Mark always said he’d bring a girlfriend, but not surprisingly, none had ever appeared.
For a second, he tried to remember the girls Mark had dated and couldn’t name any. But that didn’t mean a thing. He was older than Lucas, already at college when Mom died. His love life hadn’t been exactly of interest to Lucas.
The door opened, and Owen and Bailey burst in. Lucas opened his mouth to say something, but a huge yawn took him by surprise. He blinked carefully, watching Owen peel off his jacket and hurry over to Mia, who was playing with Mark’s shirt. “She’s fine,” Mark confirmed. Owen nodded and turned to Lucas.
“How’s the pain?”
Lucas took an easier breath. It was subsiding. “Better.”
Mark sat Mia back on his lap and fastened the small strap over her that was designed to secure someone in the wheelchair. He then wheeled himself into the kitchen, murmuring something about some breakfast.
Owen came closer to Lucas, and Lucas suddenly smiled. Owen seemed surprised but smiled back. “How do you feel?”
He relaxed. The pain had subsided to a dull ache. He yawned again and brought his hand up. “Sorry.”
Owen shook his head. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
But he had. He glanced over at Mark, but Mark was taking no notice of them. He focused on the question. “It doesn’t hurt as much, so that’s good.” He patted the couch. “You can sit.”
Owen studied him for a second but sank down. Bailey settled nearer the fire, obviously not feeling like he had to guard anyone at the moment. “I was going to put a fire in at home.”
Owen looked puzzled. “You have one.”
“No,” Lucas shook his head. “I meant a….” He had to think. “A fire pit,” he said, almost triumphantly when he remembered the word. “For outside.” He yawned again and stretched a little without it hurting. He was warm, and he gazed up at the ceiling. “I like high ceilings.” And he did. Not that the cottage had any. But that was okay—they were a bitch to paint. He looked back at Owen, and the couch seemed to tilt a little, or Owen was. “Are you okay?” he said in concern. “You can lie down. There’s room.” He patted the couch again, and Owen’s smile was suddenly enormous. He looked happy. He deserved to be happy.
“I love your smile,” he said honestly. “Mom always said you can tell what a person’s like by their smile.” He swallowed. The memory didn’t hurt quite so much this time. He glanced over at Mark to tell him so, but he seemed very far away. Mark might not even hear him. He reached for Owen’s hand, and Owen jolted a little as if he was surprised, but Lucas didn’t know why he should be. He liked holding hands. He liked holding Owen’s hand. “It’s so soft.”
He looked up to tell Owen, but then the room suddenly swayed. “Whoa,” he murmured.
Owen glanced over at Mark. “Mark, what exactly did you give him?”
Lucas beamed. He didn’t care. He was going to ask Owen something and he’d forgotten what, but it was important. “I’ve forgotten,” he said, a little frustrated.
Owen squeezed his hand. “You can have a nap if you like,” he said encouragingly. Lucas thought about that. He could. He was tired. And Owen was here.
“And you won’t leave?” he said, trying to sit up. Suddenly it was important that he stayed.
Owen pushed his shoulder gently. “I won’t leave,” he assured him.
Lucas tried to focus, but Owen looked a little blurry around the edges, soft. His skin was soft. “I like you,” he pronounced solemnly. “You remind me of Niall.”
“Who’s Niall?” Owen asked.
“I loved him,” Lucas admitted. “He was my best friend in the whole world.”
Owen looked sad, and Lucas didn’t want him to be sad. “Lie down here,” he instructed.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No.” Lucas struggled to get up, but his arms didn’t seem to be working properly, and he didn’t know why. He heaved himself with determination and winced. “That hurt.”
Owen stood up. “Will you stop it? You’re going to make it start bleeding again.”
“But you’re not safe,” Lucas said. How could he have forgotten? He looked over and saw Mark. He had a baby on his knee, which looked cool and kind of funny.
“I’m sorry,” Mark said, wheeling over. “But I knew if I gave him something just to take the edge off, he’d be convinced he was better and attempt to leave. He needs to stay still. He should be asleep by now, but he’s fighting it.”
“Who’s fighting?” Lucas’s pulse picked up. “Get behind me,” he urged Owen.
Owen glanced at Mark but squeezed Lucas’s hand. “We’re okay. We’re safe. Everything’s okay. You can go to sleep.”
“No,” Lucas said and struggled. He knew there was something wrong. He had to get up, and he tried to move his legs. The pain in his side made him gasp. He set his jaw and fought to get up. Someone was going to hurt Owen. He had to stop them.
“Lucas, hush.” And suddenly his arms were full. The space beside him that had been achingly empty for so long was filled with a warm body. Lucas tightened his arms reflexively. He had him. Owen was alive. He took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes in relief. He was going to open them right away but struggled. He should move. He tried, but he was so tired. It seemed he was always fighting, and he just needed….
“Hush,” Owen’s voice murmured in his ear, and Lucas took an easier breath. “That’s it. I’m safe. We’re all safe, and now it’s time for you to rest.”
“And you won’t go?” Lucas didn’t know whether he’d just thought the words or spoken them. He honestly didn’t know if he was dreaming. The kiss was nice, though. He was awake enough for that. The light touch on his forehead that soothed everything, calmed the hammering in his heart and the panic that squirmed just below his skin. He was floating. He wouldn’t have minded the touch again and tried to lift his head to ask.
But then he forgot what the question was.