Death's Ink Black Shadow (12 page)

Ben stretched out his arms. Nikolas laid his along them and joined their hands, weaving his long, slim, elegant digits between Ben’s stronger workman’s ones, and Ben knew without a shadow of a doubt that Nikolas was picturing, as he was, how those beautiful fingers would look with their new ring.

It was not a thought that had occurred to Ben before, but as he drifted into sleep with Nikolas lying asleep on his back, Nikolas’s cock still embedded deep inside him, thinking about a ring and how it would look, Ben wondered if the thing he and Nikolas actually had most in common, the glue that held their relationship together so well, was in fact their complete and utter shallowness.

Only a few hours ago, he’d been almost suicidal.

Now, he was entirely surrendered to happiness.

He gave Nikolas’s fingers a squeeze, felt a shift in the sleeping figure in response and let himself float away on an overwhelming sense of peace.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Steven came into their lives.

Nikolas told Ben that he would treat his son as another aberration—that Steven could be like Ben—an exception to the contamination of being connected to Aleksey Primakov.

Nikolas agreed that he would put the offer of the alternate book to him.

He still refused to tell Steven that he was Aleksey, claiming that it would provoke far too much complication in all their lives, and Ben had to concede that he was probably right in this. It pained him to admit it, but he didn’t want Aleksey resurrected any more than Nikolas did. Now that he had Nikolas back and one hundred percent his, he actually just wanted Steven to disappear. He knew it was selfish and not worthy of him, and so he didn’t say this to anyone. When Steven became a regular fixture in their house over the coming weeks, he made an effort not to let his new feelings about the man show. He tried to be…gracious? Accommodating?

Steven, however, was still obsessed with the idea of discovering his father’s past, and Ben couldn’t blame him for this. To an outsider looking in, imprisonment in a gulag and then life in Spetsnaz and Russian military intelligence seemed glamorous and exciting. To Ben, living with the husk of the man who’d survived those experiences, knowing the physical and emotional toll Nikolas’s life had taken upon him, things were not so simple. He didn’t want Aleksey’s history explored any more than Nikolas did.

Ben was at something of a loss, therefore, when Steven didn’t seem at all interested in writing the ANGEL book. Ben still thought it was a brilliant idea—who wouldn’t want to be paid an extravagant amount of money to travel around the world first class and play the visiting hero, recording how lives had been transformed by the power of Nikolas’s money? And goodwill, of course. Ben occasionally forgot to remember that it wasn’t just cash Nikolas was willing to invest…

Steven wasn’t just fixated on writing a book about his father now either. He’d also expanded his proposal to include his uncle—to make it a study in contrasts: how one brother by a quirk of fate had taken one road, but the other had mapped such a different route.

Despite appreciating the effort Nikolas was making, after the blip and the insanity of Jackson Keane, Ben couldn’t understand why he was being so accommodating to these ideas. Ben had tortured and killed two men to protect Nikolas’s secrets. In fact, as he sat watching the blond-haired men at the kitchen table, he reflected somewhat bitterly that he’d executed them in this very room…not in the same chairs—those had been replaced. Fire. Smell…

So it was a little irritating now to see Nikolas almost encouraging Steven. Sure, he was doing this in a very Nikolas way—lots of smoking and drinking and empty promises that never actually got fulfilled, but it kept Steven coming back.

Ben decided he’d had enough one morning when he wandered naked into the kitchen to find Nikolas and Steven already at the table with their vodka.

Ben was not an exhibitionist. It wasn’t in his nature. But it was his kitchen and his boyfriend, so there
was
a slight hesitation before he turned with a mumbled apology and headed back upstairs.

He heard Nikolas jogging up the stairs after him—which was unusual: Nikolas didn’t usually do fast movement unless something was chasing him. He looked up when Nikolas came in and repeated, “Sorry.”

Nikolas chuckled. “Better that than I walk in naked on your daughter one day.”

Ben nodded gloomily.

Nikolas sat down alongside him and took up one of Ben’s hands, playing idly with his fingers.

Ben sighed. “I told him I was your boyfriend, so he does know. I’m sorry about that too, I guess.”

“I know. He has had another idea for the book because of that.”

“Oh, bloody hell.”

“Hmm. He wants to explore how one twin can be gay and the other not.”

“What? He thinks…wait.” Ben frowned, trying to puzzle it out himself. “He thinks his father wasn’t gay?”

“Isn’t it amusing.”

Ben was glad Nikolas hadn’t made that a question so he didn’t have to reply with the obvious. Instead, he asked one of his own—also self-evident, he thought. “What are you going to do?”

Nikolas quirked his lips, but it was a bitter smile. “I’m doing it now. Get dressed maybe? As much as I like…” He waved at Ben’s most blatant naked part, which had been joining in the conversation gradually as he teased Ben’s fingers. Ben glanced toward the door then slumped, dejected. Houseguests were ruining his fun.

Almost as if he’d been reading Ben’s mind, Nikolas said casually, “I have invited a friend to stay for a while, by the way. I hope you don’t mind.”

Ben’s brows rose. He wasn’t aware Nikolas had any friends. “From Russia?”

Nikolas shook his head. “An American. I met him last year while I was stalking a very beautiful film star.”

Ben grinned and ruffled Nik’s hair. “Saving his life.”

Nikolas winced. He didn’t like being reminded of his actions in Louisiana. Ben knew exactly what Nikolas was thinking so he added hesitantly, “Can I say something without you shooting me down?”

Nikolas actually rolled his eyes, which was the first time Ben had seen that expression, and he laughed in delight that Nikolas could still surprise him. “What? Say it…”

“I’ve been thinking about pizza.”

Nikolas frowned. “I thought you were on your ridiculous no-carbs diet again because the idiot called you fat.”

This was a low blow on Nikolas’s part as Ben had taken Squeezy’s joke while they were running together to heart, despite it being only that—a joke. And Ben noticed it was only ludicrous not to eat carbohydrates when
he
did so. But it nicely led into what he wanted to discuss with Nikolas anyway, so he let the blatant hypocrisy go. He rose swiftly and pulled on some jeans because his erection was distracting him as well now. When he sat back down, Nikolas had a glint of amusement in his eye, which disappeared when Ben said, “I’ve been thinking about Ollie and how he died.”

Nikolas pursed his lips for a moment before stilling his face to neutral. He had allowed two people to be murdered on the assumption they’d killed the actor, Oliver Whitestone. His faith in their complicity in the attacks on Ben had been almost solely based on his belief in this earlier murder—which he apparently now thought they had been entirely innocent of. Ben took Nikolas’s hand now, and for the first time noticed that he was wearing a bracelet—a leather band plaited between hammered metal discs. “Where did you get this?”

There was a long pause. “Nika gave it to me for my birthday. Our twelfth. He made it at school. I thought if I was going to be completely unmanned and wear a ring, I had better start practising wearing some jewellery.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“He was very artistic.” Nikolas appeared to be pondering the leather plait and confided in a quiet voice, “We often spoke of the houses I would build and how he would then decorate them.”

Ben pulled Nikolas’s head closer and kissed into his hair. Nikolas shrugged his sleeve down and mock punched him. “So, you wanted me to order some pizza? Is it not a little early in the day for garlic and grease?”

Ben poked him back. “Ollie. I told you, I was thinking about Ollie. You said he had a pizza in the oven…”

Nikolas immediately seized on this fact. He was quick, Ben had to give him that. “You think he was
expecting
someone? That he didn’t eat pizza either.”

“I know he didn’t, Nik. He didn’t touch carbs.
Ever
. He couldn’t have gotten that body if he had. The crew commented on it when we were chatting one day and I refused some rolls.”

Nikolas seemed so hopeful—hopeful that he’d been right all along and that Gina Cameron and her lover had murdered Ollie—that Ben felt a genuine delight in adding, “But it
was
Stantiago Molina’s favourite food. He told me once that he lived on it—laughed about how he didn’t need the same leanness Ollie had. That he was all bulk and proud of it. I didn’t make the connection until Tim ordered pizza last night, and I couldn’t have any and…” He shrugged. “I thought about Ollie again.”

Thinking about Ollie naturally led them both to remember how this confession had been obtained. Ben saw Nikolas’s amber eyes flick to the rail behind the bed.

“And he was so fucking annoying, Nik—Santiago. I cut him some slack because of Oliver. I thought he was forgetting it was Ollie he’d been best friends with, not me. But I think now he was just pumping me for information—what I knew about Oliver’s death. It was weird. Even Squeezy noticed—he’s still convinced they did it.”

“But they didn’t try to kill you—in New Zealand. They weren’t there.”

“Remember you told me that was an accident—that another car had gone—?”

“I was lying, Ben. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but occasionally I do tell you very small white lies.”

“This is my surprised face. But, seriously, in this instance, I think you were actually right. Do you remember that little guy they got to play kiddie Ollie? Hayden? He emails me occasionally. He’s doing a road-safety film—playing a kid who’s killed in a car accident. By a
tourist
, Nik. Seriously, they’re thinking of
banning
tourists from driving there at all! Because most of the visitors come from countries that drive on the—”

“
Right
.”

“Exactly. They land, get in a car and…bang. The death toll is
horrendous
. Do you remember the accident? The way he was on the wrong side of the road?”

“He just kept coming…”

“So perhaps you weren’t lying. For once. It
was
just an accident. But
maybe
it was
meant
to happen so you would be pushed into righting the wrong of Ollie’s murder…”

Nikolas’s head dropped to his chest with a faint groan, and Ben chuckled. “You can deny it all you like, but it was
fate
.” He pulled Nikolas closer again and kissed into his hairline once more, loving the smell of his freshly washed hair. He frowned suddenly. “Where’s the grey gone?”

Nikolas lifted his head, his eyes widening from total incomprehension. Ben had seen that look before and wondered with a private crow of delight whether he was finally learning to see through all Nikolas’s deceits. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ben let it go. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe grey had become highlights in the sun. “So, there you are. That’s my theory—the pizza murder.”

Nikolas sighed. “It’s a good one. I’ll give you that.” He ruffled Ben’s hair, muttering about his curls, because he obviously knew it would annoy Ben as they weren’t curls but artful tousle. “I’d better go back downstairs or Stefan will start trying to question Radulf about
his
past.”

Ben nodded seriously then grabbed Nikolas’s throat in a gesture Radulf would have understood and appreciated, given his history, and bore him back onto the bed. He kissed him then let him up, but just before Nikolas got out of reach, he hooked him back by his waistband. “House guest?”

Nikolas swore softly, obviously having assumed Ben had been sufficiently distracted. “You’ll like him. I do.” He suddenly smirked. “There’s a lot to like.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Like wasn’t the first word that sprung to Ben’s mind when Peyton Garic extricated himself with great difficulty from a taxi and came toward the front door. Ben actually took a step back, as if the man might be infectious, which he knew was beneath him, so he braced himself and went forward, his hand extended. “Hi.”

Peyton glanced up at Ben. His benign smile faded. His mouth opened. His eyes began to water and his chins wobbled. Shockingly, he began to cry, great tears overflowing and running down his cheeks.

Ben retreated again in surprise, then felt stupid, so once more came forward,
then
realised it looked as if he were dancing with the enormous man, so he peeled away and backed up the hallway. “I’m Ben Ri—”

“Fuck, man, I know. I
know
. Ben.
Ben Rider
. Awesome.” Peyton swiped at his wet face. “Peyton. Garic. Hummer said he knew you. That I’d get to meet you. Fuck, man, you’re
real
. You opened the door! For real. Can I touch you?”

Peyton squeezed himself into the corridor and came toward Ben, his arms outstretched, and enveloped him in an enormous, sweaty hug. “Fuck me.”

Ben took this as an expression only and nodded, praying that he wasn’t agreeing to something he wouldn’t know where to begin doing.

He showed Peyton into the kitchen and explained that Nikolas was out. Peyton sank into a chair and wiped his forehead, gazing around. “Sweet. England is so cool, man. Weird. But cool.”

Ben put the kettle on. It calmed him down and made his brain stop thinking,
Nikolas
and Peyton? Nikolas and
Peyton
? What the
fuck
?

When it was rumbling nicely, he turned and considered the unusual man. He’d never met a man so overweight in his entire life, but then he knew he’d had a slightly unusual one of those, being in the army, where fat was not…encouraged. “How was the flight?”

Nice safe question.
Boil! Fucking boil!

Peyton grinned and pointed to his chest. “First class.
Awesome
.”