Marie Harte - [PowerUp! 08] Page 7

  Dalton entered Owen’s room as if he owned it and walked right up to Ian, standing over him.

  Refusing to be intimidated, Ian deliberately placed his hands behind his head and waited.

  “You fucking the boss to get ahead?”

  “That would be, fucking to get some head. But no. If I want sex, I get it easily enough.”

  Dalton snorted. “I’ll bet you do. Something tells me you fleece ’em by the dozen.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular Mata Hari.”

  Dalton didn’t grin, and Ian didn’t like the sudden sober expression on his face.

  “Look,” Dalton growled. “Owen seems to like you. Why, I can’t say. But here’s the thing. You’re good at gathering information and staying invisible when you need to. I think Owen might need that if the shit hits the fan like I think it’s going to. How much do you know about Carl Kerr?”

  “I know never to be in a room with him without a gun in my hand aimed at his forehead.”

  “The asshole has had a bug up his ass about the Stallbridges for years. Owen in particular. He’s going to stretch this out, take out whatever Owen cares about, then strike when Owen least expects it. The household is at risk, and if Owen likes you more than he should, you’re at risk.”

  Ian’s heart raced. “What? So Kerr will come after me? He can bring it on. I’ve faced badasses tougher than him. You were tracking me at some point, I’m sure. I survived you.”

  “Yeah, but I would have just turned you in to the cops. Kerr will carve you up and spit you out, strangled on your own intestines.” Dalton paused and lowered his voice. “If you’re smart, you’ll get out while you can. Ditch this place, and don’t come up for air until you know for a fact Kerr is dead.”

  “Owen told you to warn me off?”

  “Owen’s a prick with an overly large ego.” Dalton sneered. “He thinks he can keep the demons at bay by locking his fucking windows. A sniper will shoot them out in two seconds flat. And don’t get me started on a telekinetic or a pyro. He’s not protected, not like he should be.”

  “And I’m a distraction?” Ian wasn’t sure how to feel. Good that Owen cared about him enough to worry, or bad that he might be putting Owen’s life in danger?

  “Yes, you are. I’m worried that Kerr will take you out, with you sitting here like a target. And then Owen will wallow in guilt that you died because of him. Guy has enough problems. He doesn’t need to feel guilty because of you too.”

  Too? What else did Owen feel guilty about? Ian stared at Dalton, wondering how to make the man spill more information. “Why would my death be a problem? I know what I’m getting into with him.”

  “Do you?” Dalton stared at him. “Do you really?”

  Pressure pushed at his brain, and Ian shielded himself the way he’d been taught years ago. “Try that with a weaker mind.”

  Dalton nodded, looking thoughtful. “Not a complete pussy. That’s good.”

  “For God’s sake. Being gay doesn’t make me weak.”

  “No, but prancing your tight ass around Owen when he’s got better things to worry about is plain stupid. Fine. You want to stay? You do whatever you can to make him happy, and when we get back, maybe I’ll go easier on you.”

  “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Ian sat up straight, ready to confront the bully. “And where are we going?”

  “Not we, Owen and me. He and I have some work to do outside CONUS.”

  CONUS—military jargon for continental United States. Ian stared at Dalton, wondering. His mind pieced together parts of Owen’s past and Dalton’s reappearance in Owen’s life. “You two work together on military operations, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, right.” Dalton chuckled.

  The notion fit, but the guy’s expression didn’t. Ian blew out a breath of relief that Owen wasn’t in bed with the same government who’d bent him over and fucked him hard without a reach-around.

  “Owen, military?” Dalton continued. “Can you see Owen taking orders from anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Right. Look, I’m just telling you this because Owen needs to be clearheaded about what he’s doing the next few days. Don’t fuck with his head until we get back, okay, princess?”

  Ian didn’t take offense at Dalton, mostly because he kept trying to understand Owen. Pieces were supposed to fit a puzzle, but Owen kept adding more layers of complexity. “So what does he do for you?”

  “Not what you’re thinking, I’m sure.”

  Dalton made a face, and Ian put on his most charming smile. “What a relief that my honey cakes isn’t into gruff, macho bastards. He likes a more refined man, not a bear.”

  Dalton frowned. “A bear?”

  “And for the record, Dalton, I didn’t volunteer to be here. Owen ordered me to help him for the past month, gathering intel. Now he’s still ordering me to stick around.” Ian grinned. “I think he’s smitten.”

  “Jesus. Is this a soap opera or a mission?”

  Ian shrugged. “I do as I’m told.”

  “I wish,” Dalton muttered.

  “And if you want to know why I can’t leave…” Why I don’t want to, not until I have you figured out, Owen Stallbridge. “…you’d have to ask my lord and master.” He glanced over Caleb’s massive shoulder at movement in the doorway. “Ah, there he is. You’d better stop flirting with me. He’s really possessive.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”

  “Quit bothering my employees, Caleb,” Owen said, appearing not at all troubled by the man hovering over Ian.

  That grated.

  “He’s scaring me, Daddy,” Ian mewled, struggling not to laugh at the disgust on Caleb’s face or the way Owen’s mouth tightened.

  “Okay. I’m outta here. You two play your games, but Owen, man, we need to nail out specifics.”

  “After dinner. I don’t need that much time to school this idiot.”

  “Hey!”

  Caleb grinned. “I’ll leave you to it…Daddy.” He laughed at the finger Owen shot him. “The Knoxes and Tim are set, by the way. Again, good going, hiring them.” The pointed way he looked at Ian told its own story. Then he walked away whistling and shut the door behind him.

  Leaving Ian with a scowling Adonis.

  “I can explain.” Ian started to defend himself, then decided to go on the attack instead. “You’re leaving to go outside the country? Why do I have the feeling this has nothing to do with Kerr?” The blank expression that eased over Owen’s face worried him. “I want to know what’s going on. Right now.”

  Anger replaced the calm on Owen’s face. “I think that’s my line…princess. What were you and Caleb up to, all by yourselves in my bedroom?”

  Ian blinked, then slowly smiled. “Oh my God. You’re jealous.” He clapped. What a perfectly wonderful day.

  Chapter Six

  Owen did his best to close his mouth and school his expression. Damn it, he was jealous. He knew Caleb liked women. But seeing his friend standing so close to his little thief bit at his nerves.

  “I’m not jealous.”

  Ian glowed with mirth. “You are,” he said in a breathy voice.

  Owen ignored the laugh bubbling inside him at Ian’s teasing, not sure how he managed to vacillate between annoyance and humor so easily around the stubborn man. “I’m not. I wanted to see what you’ve been up to all day while I’ve been closeted with work.” Making plans rearranging meetings and business so he could take a trip south to kill a murderer.

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  Ian shrugged. “Nothing. I hear you’re going away for a few days.”

  Caleb had a big mouth. Owen had planned to tell Ian after bribing him to stay in the house and out of trouble. He’d already filled Tim in on his duties while Owen was gone—keeping an eye on Ian.

  “Did you get a chance to look through all my things? Is my Breitling still there?”

  Ian smirked. “Please. I’ve seen better jewelry at the mall.
” He said it with scathing emphasis.

  Owen grinned. “Sorry to disappoint you. Most of my money is socked away in banks and investments. Houses, properties, that kind of thing. I do have a few pieces of art I’m keeping an eye on, though.”

  “And don’t forget your hoards of clothes.”

  “One closet is not a hoard.”

  “It’s a walk-in closet the size of my living room. Too bad we aren’t the same size.” Ian sighed. “But then, you wouldn’t like me as much. You don’t go for the big, ugly, manly types, do you?” Like Dalton went unsaid.

  Owen chuckled. “Ian, you don’t have to worry about Caleb. He and I are just friends. Not like you and I are, baby.”

  Ian flushed. “Don’t call me baby.”

  “Little thief. Boy. Mine. That better?” Owen closed the distance between them and pulled Ian out of the chair. Then he sat and yanked Ian onto his lap. He scooted forward so he could wrap Ian’s legs around him, to get closer to his lover face-to-face.

  “Gee, Santa, is this what I get for Christmas? A boner up my ass?”

  Owen couldn’t help getting hard around him. Something about Ian triggered his happy switch. He’d been this attracted once, a long time ago, to his first crush. In college, a boy two years his senior had shown him just how much fun men could be. But that attachment was nothing like this incredible connection he felt with Ian. Owen just wished it went both ways.

  Ian liked his wealth, and Owen wanted to think they had a rapport. But to feel anything deeper made little sense. They’d only recently gotten to know each other. Their month together had been fraught with power plays and Ian trying to get the best of him. Owen had fantasized that sex would put the man in his grasp. Instead, it lowered Owen’s resistance to the smart-mouthed thief.

  Owen sighed. “With that mouth, you’ll be lucky to get coal in your stocking.” He pulled Ian closer, angling his erection into the snug fit of Ian’s bottom, nestled between his cheeks. “I have to go away for a few days. I do favors for people sometimes. And this is something I have to do.” God. What he’d seen when he’d investigated DeSanta made him sick. The guy had a penchant for kids. Owen had made sure he wasn’t being set up into killing an innocent man and verified DeSanta’s disgusting habits using multiple sources. They all said the same thing.

  Hell, if Caleb hadn’t asked him to step in, Owen would have paid him to take filth like this from the planet.

  “Hey. What’s wrong?” Ian asked, sounding concerned.

  Owen blinked into his eyes and lost himself. That bright blue invited him to share, to partake, and he did. He met Ian’s mouth, not sure if he’d pulled Ian closer or if Ian had lowered to kiss him.

  And then they were loving each other’s mouths with tongue and lips and teeth. Instead of a frenzy, Owen let himself slip into Ian, enjoying the warmth of care and affection he wanted to exist between them.

  Though on fire to have his thief again, more than passion inflamed him. He needed this, to feel some goodness in his life. Seeing the depravity in the world, and knowing he’d have to touch that again to extinguish such evil, made him sick. But what were his options? That he do nothing and allow a pedophile and rapist to continue to murder?

  “What’s wrong?” Ian asked again, slanting kisses over his mouth to his jaw. “You good?”

  “With you, yeah,” he rasped. And then he leaned his forehead against Ian’s.

  “It’s okay,” Ian said softly, cupping his cheek and stroking his hair.

  He remained with his eyes shut, absorbing the closeness he craved with this man, wishing it could be real and not something readying to end too soon. Kerr was the only thing keeping Ian here. Owen needed time to lure Ian into staying longer.

  He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling stupid for a moment of weakness, sure Ian would capitalize on it somehow. But when he pulled back, he saw Ian staring at him with a sober expression that seemed somehow affectionate.

  “You need to eat,” Ian said, mimicking his earlier tone.

  Owen forced a laugh. “I am hungry.” He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “No wonder.”

  Ian nimbly jumped to his feet and glanced at the clock. “Well, let’s go. I think Tim said something about us eating around six.”

  Owen stood and grimaced at the tightness in his crotch. “Your fault.”

  Ian nodded. “I have that effect on most men. Not that I’m bragging or anything. Just stating a fact.”

  Owen snorted. “Not that you’re bragging or anything.” He glanced around, wondering what Ian had had delivered. “Are you settled in?”

  “I moved my pitifully few things into this room, yes.” Ian watched him.

  “If you’re waiting for me to tell you to move out, think again. You’re here; you’re mine.”

  “If you say so.”

  Owen caught the relief Ian tried to hide.

  “But look, I’m all about safe sex. So if you’re planning to blow Dalton—”

  “Ian.”

  “—anytime soon, you’ll have to get tested before we fool around again.”

  “I told you, he and I are friends. Colleagues.”

  “Oh? What business school did he attend? Snipers-R-Us University?”

  “Come on.” Owen dragged Ian with him out of the room to the kitchen.

  They ate with Joe while Reuben went on shift. Dolly, Bev, Tim, and Caleb joined them as well. Owen had talked it over with Caleb and decided that his people would be safer here, with the Knoxes, than off on their own, where Kerr would no doubt try to kidnap and torture them, slowly, to prove he could.

  He’d also called in a few of Jack’s people to keep an extra eye on the place while he and Caleb went abroad. Best not to tempt fate and allow Kerr a golden opportunity to attack while Owen was otherwise occupied.

  The thought had crossed his mind that this would be the perfect time for Kerr to strike. But Carl liked a personal touch. He wanted to be up front and close when he took Owen out—or tried to. Owen had studied his adversary for years. The sick fuck needed to be near the pain his men delivered, probably so he could feel anything. Owen had long harbored the idea that the Kerrs were missing something fundamental in their makeup. Compassion and love didn’t seem to register with them.

  “Bev,” he said as he finished a stellar meal. “As usual, the chicken was excellent.”

  “Why, thank you.” She blushed. “I love cooking. It’s like I was born to it.”

  “No kidding.” Ian leaned back with a sigh. “I had three helpings. You’re amazing.”

  “I wanted to tell you to keep up the good work while I’m gone,” Owen added. “I’ll be going out of town tomorrow and coming back in a few days. Friday latest. While I’m away, Ian will be here holding down the fort. I know Joe and Reuben have talked about the security risk.”

  The ladies nodded. He’d been in situations before that threatened the welfare of his estate and those who lived on it, and they’d weathered previous storms. But none with Carl Kerr helming the ship.

  “We’ll have extra protection on hand as well. Jack’s lending a few of his people to watch over the place.”

  “Who’s he sending?” Ian asked.

  “Joe has the rundown.”

  Joe answered, “Avery Holton, Nathan Kraft, Aidan Marshall, and Kyle Cannon are lending a hand.”

  “Cannon’s not one of ours, but he’s cute.”

  Everyone looked at Ian, who shrugged. “Sue me. I’m human.” He turned to the women. “You’ll see.”

  They laughed at him.

  Joe continued, “Actually, we shouldn’t see him or the others. Their goal is to be invisible. We don’t want Kerr to know he’s been spotted.”

  “Even though he knows we know?” Ian asked. “This is stupid.”

  “So is dying,” Caleb growled. “So shut up and follow the program.”

  Before Ian could throw a tizzy, Owen interrupted. “Right. Tim and Joe know how to contact me. Tim, you’re good?”

  Tim nod
ded. He knew his major responsibility—keeping Ian safe, from himself if need be. The others would remain under Joe and Reuben’s watchful care.

  “Anything you need, Bev, Dolly, you just let Reuben or Joe know. This business came up pretty suddenly, but after that, we just need to take care of the Kerr situation. I give it another two weeks, max.” By then Caleb would hopefully have gotten close enough to Kerr that Owen could nail the bastard. Screw a quick cardiac arrest. Owen planned to drag out the pain as long as he could. An aneurism wouldn’t work either. He’d rarely employed psychic torture, but he’d been dreaming about ending Carl for a while.

  The question remained: just how much did Carl know about Owen? Because with psychic mercenaries growing in the field, Carl might have his own back-pocket weapon. And better to know before eighth hour struck. He looked at Joe. “Do your best to find out what we talked about, yes?”

  Joe nodded.

  Ian looked less than pleased at being excluded from things, but Owen didn’t want him sticking his neck out, especially not on Owen’s behalf.

  He turned the conversation back to a recent slew of bad movies he’d heard about, and the meal ended with Bev’s famous apple pie and laughter.

  Once everyone had separated for the night, Owen moved back to his room to pack up for his trip tomorrow. He figured they’d fly in Wednesday, lay everything out, set up on Thursday for the op, execute it, and fly back by Friday afternoon. That’s if everything went according to plan.

  Ian followed him into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Then he trailed Owen into the closet.

  “I know for a fact your living room is bigger than this,” Owen muttered as he grabbed two pairs of jeans and some underwear.

  Ian crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame. The camera would love him. The shadows over his face only emphasized the mystery in the man, and Owen wanted nothing more than to plumb his hidden depths.

  When he tried to move past Ian to dump his stuff on the bed, Ian blocked his way. Owen sighed. “What now?”