Trial by Fire (11 page)

Take away all the other tripe, and that was pretty grim stuff. So he stayed quiet and offered a touch. Support.

When the sobs eased, Lachlan took the washcloth from the side of the tub and began to clean Holden’s back, the touches not in the least sexual. After he was done, Holden turned off the water, and Lachlan helped the man stand and get a towel wrapped around his privates before Holden grabbed him and held on.

Lachlan pulled him close, murmuring nonsense words against that wet hair.

He didn’t know what in the living hell he was going to do, didn’t know anything, so he just stood there and gave Holden everything he had. That had to be enough right now.

Holden lifted his face, met his eyes. “I’m fixin’ to kiss you. That okay?”

It wasn’t a good time. Not even a little.

That didn’t keep Lachlan from bending to press his mouth to Holden’s. Holden arched up, body sliding against his, the touch easy and slow.

When their lips parted, Holden chuckled. “How come you always have more clothes on than me?”

“How come you’re always stripping off?”

“I reckon I like to be naked.” Holden began tugging at Lachlan’s clothes, wet now from contact with that hot little body.

“I….” What? He didn’t want to do this? He’d proven he did.

“Shh. Please. I ain’t looking for hammer and tongs or nothin’. I just want a little something good. You probably could use it too.”

His jeans were opened up, his belt tugged free.

Lachlan nodded, his breath catching, his cock pushing up out of his jeans. “Touch me.”

“I’d like that.”

Holden’s hands were hard and callused, fingers rough and dragging against him, even though the touch was gentle as anything.

Those fingertips found his foreskin and tugged at it, pulling and pushing it back and forth, and Lachlan grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his ass cheeks clenched tight at the sensation.

“Damn, you’re fine.” Holden watched him like a hawk, eyes bright and burning.

“You have good hands, huh?” God, it had been so long. He didn’t get into town much.

“Yeah.” He got another one of those quicksilver grins that proved that naughty lived in Holden, balls deep.

Lachlan had to kiss that smile, because as much as he tried to deny it, he liked Holden. More than liked the little bugger. His body knew what it wanted, even if his brain was freaked out.

“Shh.” Holden kept saying that, but maybe it wasn’t totally meant for him. Maybe Holden needed to hear it too.

“Mmm.” Lachlan grabbed that tight ass and rubbed them together, then realized he still wore his shirt, jeans, and boots. Damn it all.

“See? Clothes.” Holden tugged his prick again, and his eyes crossed at the little zing.

He was out of his mind, like Alice and her rabbit hole.

Holden grumbled a little, then went to work on his clothes again. “I want to see you right now, damn it.”

“Uh-huh.” Lachlan helped, shrugging out of cloth once Holden got buttons and snaps open. He stepped out of his boots and jeans when Holden knelt to push them off, and he couldn’t help but think about what Holden had said about eating him up.

Holden looked up at him, then one stubbled cheek rubbed across his shaft, the touch gentle as a feather.

“Christ!” The word burst out of him, and he stroked that wet, dark hair, the muscles of Holden’s shoulders.

“Just let me do this, honey. I want to, and we ain’t got all the time in the world.” Then Holden’s lips dropped down around his prick and landed right against his short and curlies.

All the air whooshed out of his lungs, and Lachlan moaned, his body rocking back and forth, trying to get more. Holden gave it, too, sucking him like a Hoover, like he was a feast and Holden was starving.

Fuck, yeah.
Holden’s mouth was hot, wet and perfect. The press of hot lips around the base, then the head as Holden bobbed up and down, giving him friction. He watched his cock appear and disappear over and over between Holden’s lips.

That mouth looked swollen, and the sight was so erotic that his balls drew up, almost ready to go.

Lachlan chuckled, sounding strained to his ears. “I swear to God, Holden, before I leave we’re locking ourselves in a room with a bloody bed and not coming up for air all day.”

“You never know. I might ruin your ass for anyone else.”

He would have argued, but that mouth took him again, Holden deep throating him like a master.

Yeah, he might get used to wanting this, and then where would he be? He’d be in deep shit. He petted whatever parts of Holden he could reach, goose bumps rising on his arms and back, his scalp prickling. Lachlan fought to keep his eyes open now, fought to watch every moment.

He didn’t intend to forget a second of this, didn’t intend to miss a moment of Holden there on his knees, giving him what he needed. That lean, tanned body made him want crazy things, things he ought not ponder.

When Holden reached up between his legs and tugged at his balls, Lachlan came, his surprised shout echoing in the little room. He shorted out, white noise sizzling in his brain.

Holden rested against his hip, forehead hot, damp on his skin.

Lachlan reached down, touched Holden’s head gently, not wanting to startle. “You needing?”

“I don’t even know, cowboy. You melted me.”

Lachlan eased himself to the floor, reaching for Holden, wanting all that skin against his, even if the urgency was gone. Well, for him, anyway.

Holden leaned in, cheek rough and rasping. One hand tugged the fur on his chest. “Look at you, fuzzy.”

“Yeah, what? Do you wax or something?” Lachlan had to tease, because Holden was smooth as a billiard ball.

Holden snorted. “Shit, no. I’m one of them that never got all the fur. Butthead. Folks pay big money to look like me.”

“Yeah? And your type works hard to find mine at leather bars.” Lachlan laughed out loud at Holden’s exaggerated look of surprise. “Though God knows I’ve probably been to more of them than you.”

“I ain’t never…. Not ever. Shit. I feel lucky to find someone on the gay rodeo circuit that wants a hand job.”

“No shit? There’s a gay rodeo?” Lachlan eased a hand between them, pressing against Holden’s cock.

“Yessir. They come to Dallas. I go every year.”

He did love the way Holden’s cock felt in his hand, heavy and long. “How’d you end up with a prick like this on a body that’s knee high to a grasshopper?”

“Shut up, asshole.” Holden laughed, though, pushed right into his hand, rocking into his grip over and over, showing Lachlan he knew how to fuck.

“It’s bloody perfect, Holden. Hot. So ready for me to touch.”

Holden glanced up, then pushed right to him and took his mouth, proving that he was just as into this, needing just as bad as Lachlan was. The man’s lips were still tasting of his spunk, still salty with him.

All he wanted to do was make it better, make Holden feel desired. Safe. Home with him.

He shook his head, trying to resettle his brains. This was not home. Wasn’t ever going to be. No matter how much Holden Sheffield got to him.

Then Holden moaned and rolled into his touch, body begging for him.

Lachlan stopped trying to think, stroking hard up and down. His mouth moved, making love words, then filthy sex words. He couldn’t stop talking, praising, loving.

Holden stared at him, eyes almost black. Those lips begged for more kisses—swollen and perfect and inviting—and he gave them, one after another, losing himself, stealing this time.

They could make this moment last a little while longer. A tiny bit, closing out the world.

“Soon. Soon, honey. Please.” Holden’s voice had gone gravelly. Deep with lust.

“Anything, Holden. Anything.” Lachlan rubbed the tip with his thumb, giving more zing to his touch.

Holden’s eyes went wide and seed spread over his fingers. The hot, wet stuff made him stroke a few more times, rubbing it into Holden’s skin. Holden shuddered, rested against him, and sighed.

“Is this ever going to be over, man?” Holden asked him. “I need Chloe back and for this to be done.”

“Yeah. I swear it will be.” Lachlan stroked Holden’s back with his clean hand. “We’ll get her back, and things will go back the way they were.”

Even if Lachlan thought he would never be the same.

WAITING
fucking sucked.

There was nothing to do but wait for the goddamn call. Lachlan had managed to get the money together, even though the FBI and the cops and the security guys had said no. They thought it was a bad idea to pay off terrorists, or perpetrators or whatever. Even the hint of the money being around made people reckless, Abruzzo had said.

God, Holden was tired.

“You going to make it, kid?” Crazy McPhail came up to sit beside him, the lead bullfighter’s presence as solid as a rock.

“I don’t know. I sure as shit hope so.”

“Me too, son. Chloe needs you to have your shit together.”

“I know. I know, Crazy. I’ll make it. You know me. I ain’t no flake.” No. Solid as stone—that was him.

Solid and staid as stone.

“I know.” Crazy chuckled, the sound rough as a cob. “You sure are taken with that Aussie feller.”

He didn’t meet Crazy’s eyes, because that was awkward as all get-out, but the guys all either knew he was funny or guessed, because he never once brought a girl home and because Landon was a huge fucking proponent of “Be who you are.” “Yeah.”

“You don’t think you need someone more local and less tall?” Crazy nudged him with a bony elbow.

“Shit, Crazy, it ain’t gonna be nothin’. How could it be? Australia’s on the other side of the whole world.” Holden knew better than to be stupid. Guys like him didn’t get forever and always. That was for men who weren’t born backward.

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s loaded, for sure, and he’s gonna want to see his niece. His folks are a hoot. His daddy has been out poking at the cattle.”

“Yeah.” They both stopped when Crazy’s phone rang, and Crazy held one finger up.

“Sorry, Boss. ’Lo?” Crazy began to frown deeply, gaze clashing with Holden’s. “Yeah, he’s right here. Who the fuck is this?”

That frown deepened, and tired eyes the color of well-worn jeans met his. “They want to talk to you.”

The words sounded like they were fat and heavy with worry and pissed off, like a thunderboomer that was crackling with lightning.

It was the kidnappers. Holden knew it like he knew his own name.

He took the phone, even if a part of him was screaming that he didn’t know what to do—what to do, how to do whatever it was that was right. “Sheffield.”

“I know you ain’t with no cops right now, kid, and if you don’t want me to bash this little one’s head in with a rock right now, you’ll tell me the truth. You got the money?” The voice was distorted, harsh. Unrecognizable.

A mixture of horror and fury rushed through him, but he just shrugged, doing his best to figure who could see him from here, who knew he was with Crazy. “I got it.”

“Good. Now we talk turkey.”

Holden took a deep breath and thought about what the feds had told him. Keep him talking. Get him to reveal details. “Kid,” the guy had called him. That meant one of the older guys, not someone his age.

Holden scanned the horizon, desperate to see anything that might help. “So, talk.”

Crazy sat there, still as a stone, watching everything.

“You come out with the cash to that old gas station off 37. The Shell one. You come out without bringing the cops. I’ve done proved I got eyes on you.”

“When?”

“If you leave now, you might make it. Don’t fuck with me, kid. I will kill this brat. I got nothing left to lose.”

The phone line went dead, and Holden sat there. “They’re watching us.”

It wasn’t until after he said it that he realized Crazy might could be in on this.

No.

No. Crazy was his daddy’s oldest friend, his own godfather. He trusted Crazy with his cowboys, and Crazy had been the one to give the eulogy at Landon’s funeral. Crazy wouldn’t.

“Well, shit. I swear to God, Holden, I will find out who they are and rip their legs off.” Crazy vibrated with tension, but followed his lead and stayed sitting. “What do we do?”

“He says to meet him at that Shell station that Mike Ford gave back to the bank off 37. Do I tell them, or do I just go? They’re watching us.”

“Do you got the money?”

“Lachlan says he does, but it’s with the cops and everything. I can… I can fill a bag with towels and cash money on top?” They had to go. They had to. “He says he’s gonna kill her, Crazy.”

“You got a gun in your truck?” Crazy’s cheeks were purple, the vein in his temple throbbing.

“There’s a shotgun, and I got a .35 in the glove box.”

“Let’s just go for a ride.”

“We need to go inside, make them think we’re getting the money.” Right? They had to keep up the illusion.

“Yeah. Keep it quiet, though. We ain’t got time for a plan.”

Holden dug his keys out of his pocket. “You get my truck going.”

“You got it. Bring a bag with you.”

He nodded, then headed into the house and moved through his old rooms, his thoughts racing so fast it was damn near like he just had white noise. He should tell Lachlan he was going, but there wasn’t time, and the feds would want to come and—if this was one of theirs, then it was up to him to remind this motherfucker of the cowboy code.

You never break a trust. Never.

And as far as Holden was concerned, the son of a bitch had already fired the first motherfucking shot. Threatening to kill his girl, and for what? Money? No broke-dick cowboy would know what to do with ten million anyway.

Holden slipped out of the house and into the truck carrying his bag. Crazy backed out quiet as a mouse before peeling out on the main road.

“What’s the plan, then?” Crazy asked as he pulled the pistol out of the glove compartment.

“You stay in the truck. I’ll give you the shotgun. I’ll toss him the bag and make him give me the baby before I shoot his skanky, traitorous, baby-stealing ass.”

“I like it. Simple but effective.” Crazy had his back, Holden could tell. Crazy always did, and Holden was ashamed of his moment of doubt.