Scars and Secrets (Loose Ends Book 1) Page 4

  Mark didn’t want to hear any of that, which put even more of a strain on their already frail father-son bond. Mark wanted to fix it, though. With conditions. Always with conditions.

  Van wanted none of it, but he’d show up today. Meet with the old man in secret. Before Levi, that seeing his father in secret thing used to bother Van. Now? He preferred it.

  As he got out of the taxi outside his father’s hotel, a flash of white caught his eye, and he turned to his left. The dark-skinned woman with the almost bald head, clad in head-to-toe white was walking away from him, but Van knew her.

  He knew her. Every line of her body, every cadence of her voice, every sadistic glint in her eye.

  Seraphina Cook.

  He didn’t wait around for confirmation. He couldn’t. Instead Van ducked back into the taxi and directed the driver to take him right back where he’d picked him up.

  The airport.

  His fingers trembled where he gripped the duffle and he slouched down in the back of the car, chest heaving as he ordered himself to breathe.

  Breathe deep.

  You’re safe.

  Except no. No, he wasn’t. But he needed Levi to be. Seraphina in Iowa now was no fucking coincidence, and Van didn’t know if Dutch was to blame. If his father was to blame. Didn’t matter. He was going where he should have gone in the first place.

  New York.

  There was a man there he’d waited seven years to see, to touch.

  Back on the plane, hat pulled low over his forehead, Van’s phone dinged on an incoming text as he shoved his bag into the overhead compartment. He waited until he sat to check it out. It was from Dutch, and contained nothing but a screenshot of a TV news crawl.

  “Undercover agent, son of Republican Presidential candidate, Senator Mark Dulles, believed killed in car explosion.”

  Huh? Van frowned at the gif image on his phone. A car blowing up. A black sedan that looked suspiciously like one of his father’s cars. So his father planned to blow him up? Did he honestly think Van was in that blast, or was Mark hoping?

  Son of a bitch.

  “Tell him fix it if he wants to ever see me again,” he sent to Dutch.

  His phone rang, and Van answered when he saw Sullivan calling. “Sully, what’s up?”

  Sullivan heaved a loud sigh in his ear. “Where are you?”

  “On my way to New York. Why?” Van held the phone to his ear with his shoulder while buckling his seatbelt.

  “Why am I looking at a news crawl that says you’re feared dead?”

  “Did you know Seraphina Cook is out and about?” he asked instead. “Caught a glimpse of her while outside my dad’s hotel in Iowa.” He kept his tone calm and flat, when in reality he wanted to crawl into a small, dark place and hide. Funny how she’d made a small, dark place his prison, yet that was where he thought to go to hide from her.

  “Wait.” Sullivan stopped abruptly. “What the hell are you doing anywhere near that asshole? More importantly, did Seraphina see you?”

  “Not sure if she saw me. I got the hell outta dodge.”

  “Doesn’t explain why I’m watching a car explode on TV while they claim you might be caught in the blast.”

  “My dad’s car.” Van shrugged. He needed a drink. And to swallow one of the pills he’d shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m guessing he was the target. You know there’s nothing he likes more than to garner sympathy. I’ll give him until the plane lands to handle it.”

  If he tried to figure out the game his father was playing this time, Van’s head would explode. He was too damn close to what he’d been wanting to claim for seven years. This time nothing his father did would get in the way. Van would make sure of it.

  “If Seraphina is walking around out there, Dutch is behind it,” Sullivan cautioned. “Watch yourself.”

  “I’m aware of who Dutch is, believe me.” Unlike the others, Van knew damn well who their boss was. “Listen, I have a lot to deal with,” he said. “There’s Levi, and then some other heavy family shit I just learned about.”

  Namely Israel Storm. The brother he didn’t want.

  “Dutch a part of that heavy family shit?”

  Van chuckled dryly. “Not in the way you think.”

  “I think you need to be careful. Do what you have to do in order to get your husband back, but be careful.”

  “So you don’t think it’s impossible?” Van dropped his voice lower. “Me trying to get Levi back?”

  “No. It’s not impossible at all.”

  “Thanks, Sully.” It wasn’t as if he’d have turned around, given up, if Sullivan had answered the other way, but it felt good. Sullivan had been with Levi recently. He would know if Van had a chance.

  Right?

  “Call if you need me.”

  They hung up.

  But Van wouldn’t call. This what he was about to do, this was only between him and his husband.

  No more chasing. No more running.

  Their time was up.

  Chapter Four

  Levi locked the door behind Mateo and his husband, Tommy, then made a beeline for the balcony. The two-story condo was painted a warm caramel and felt airy and spacious. Sunlight filtered through the sheer drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows, and sliding doors that opened onto the balcony. A widescreen TV and game console were hooked up to the opposite wall, while a brown leather sectional horseshoed around a glass coffee table.

  The space felt lived in, like a home. Especially with the lube and condoms Levi had found in one of the bathrooms upstairs. Who the hell had been there before him?

  As lovely as the condo was, he’d spent most of his time in exile so far just sitting in one of the chairs outside on the balcony, staring down at the beach. Right now, he did the same, glaring down at nothing. The helpless feeling was unbearable, and he was sick of it.

  Having grown up in the foster care system, Levi had no idea who his true parents were. He’d never even thought to search. But apparently his birth father had been head of some huge drug cartel in Mexico. When he died, his two older sons took over running the Nieto cartel. A connection Levi never even made. The Feds made the connection though, growing suspicious of him after he’d taken that spring break trip south of the border.

  He’d kept going back to Culiacán. Except he’d never been alone. Hell, the trips were never about him. Gia, his best friend, had started up a relationship with a cop out there. Naturally they visited from time to time. All fucking innocent.

  Not to the Feds. They sent Donovan Cintron to get close to him, to figure out if he was in cohorts with his brothers in Mexico. A long con Levi had never suspected. Why would he? He’d fallen in love. He’d loved that man. Everything about him, everything about them. But it had all been a lie.

  Three years. Wasted years filled with lies and false promises, and the night it all came out—

  “Levi.”

  He stiffened at the soft voice above his head then rose and turned. “Pablo.”

  Juan Pablo Castillo smiled at him in that crooked way Levi never could forget. “What’s up?”

  What was up? Levi yanked Pablo into his arms, treating him like the lifeline he’d always been.

  “Hey.” Pablo hugged him tight, patting his back. “You’re okay.”

  He wasn’t, and Levi wanted to yell that at the top of his lungs so badly. Losing his composure right then and crumpling to the floor wasn’t a farfetched concept, but he swallowed and released Pablo. “You’re here.” The loyalty in this man was something Levi never understood, but one he appreciated even more now. His former lover looked the same. Bald head, captivating brown eyes, his Latino heritage giving him gorgeously tanned skin. Standing at about five-eleven, Pablo wasn’t that much shorter than Levi’s six-one frame. He wore a black hoodie and dark jeans with black boots. Despite the belt with the flashy gold buckle looped around at his waist, Pablo’s jeans stayed sagging, something Levi remembered.

  “Of course I’m here.”
Pablo frowned. “You need me, I’m there. I told you that.”

  Levi nodded as the front door opened and another man stepped inside. Dark hair and green eyes, dressed in much the same way as Pablo, only instead of a hoodie, the other man wore a white sweater and faded jeans.

  “J.P. I can’t find—” The newcomer stopped and stared at the room. “Oh shit.” He rocked back on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets.

  “Shane?” Pablo went to the newcomer’s side, speed something supernatural. He grabbed the man’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “This place.” Shane looked shell shocked. “This is the place.”

  Pablo shook his head. “What pl—” He stared at Shane, lips curving. “This is the place, pretty boy.”

  They sorta moved as one, into an embrace, with Pablo bending to whisper something in the other man’s ear that had both of them chuckling. Levi watched them, wondering why the name Shane was so familiar.

  What he did know was that Pablo and this man were together. More than together.

  “This is Levi Nieto.” Pablo held Shane’s hand as they approached Levi. “Levi, this is my husband, Shane.”

  Ah.

  “Hey.” Shane held out a hand with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you, Shane.” Levi shook his hand, the name coming back to him. This was the man Pablo had broken off their arrangement for. The DEA agent. This man was the reason Pablo left the criminal world behind. Watching them, Levi understood.

  “How you holding up?” Shane asked him.

  Levi shrugged. “Day by day, I guess.” There was nothing more he could do except sit and wait, right? Someone had his name on some list for anyone to see. Izek was the only reason Levi was here in Brooklyn at all.

  “Listen, I don’t want you to worry. We’ll handle this,” Pablo said. “Izek’s in Costa Rica, and I’ve got a dozen men out there watching your back. If you leave the building they’ll be with you, and they have a list of names and photos of who is okay to come up. You’ll be okay.”

  At this point, Levi trusted no one but Pablo.

  “Hey.” Pablo touched his shoulder. ‘The only way to enter this building is with a code and only a handful of people have that. People who’d protect you without question, you hear me?”

  Levi nodded. He could’ve told Pablo that his men weren’t the only ones out there looking out for Levi, protecting him, but he wouldn’t.

  Pablo caught Shane’s hand and faced Levi. “We have to go, our son has an ear infection, but—”

  “You have a son.”

  Pablo’s eyes lit up, but it was Shane who answered Levi. “We do, yes. Easton.”

  “That’s…” Emotion choked him, but Levi offered up his congratulations anyway. “I’m so happy for you,” he told Pablo. “You deserve this.” He did.

  Shane glanced from Levi to Pablo. “I’m gonna head back downstairs, give you two a minute, huh?” He smiled at Levi. He didn’t know what he expected from Pablo’s husband, but it wasn’t a genuine smile and a firm clasp as Shane shook his hand again. “Take care, Levi. I mean that.”

  Levi saw the truth in his statement. “Thank you.”

  Shane slid a hand over Pablo’s shoulder as he walked to the door, an absent caress perhaps, but Pablo grasped his husband’s hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the knuckles as they spoke a million words with one heated glance. Then Shane was gone.

  “I mean it, you know,” Levi said softly. “I’m happy for you.”

  “I know you are.”

  Levi brought his gaze to the locked door. “You got the guy.”

  Pablo chuckled. “Not without some hard fucking work, let me tell you.”

  “But you did.” Why it hurt, Levi refused to say. He touched Pablo’s jaw. “I knew something had changed between us the instant you mentioned his name to me that night in Philly.” He’d watched Pablo’s face that night and all he saw was longing, yearning, wanting so big, so monumental. Because they weren’t foreign, not to Levi. He’d seen them in another man’s eyes.

  Another pair of eyes. The gaze of the man he’d married. Van had gazed at Levi with those emotions in his eyes up until the last time. Up until that night Levi had chalked it all up as fake, acting. But it had been the same emotion on Pablo’s face.

  Real.

  Authentic.

  Enough to make Levi falter, to question if maybe it had been real after all. What Van said, what he felt. Had it been real? Too little, too late had whispered through his mind, hitting him like a punch to his gut. That night he’d kept his hands off Juan Pablo Castillo, sitting silently as the man talked about the person he’d ran from New York to escape.

  Felt so similar then. He’d watched what he had with Pablo disappear, and for the first time since his life blew up, Levi had felt as if he’d cheated on Van. He’d felt dirty.

  “How are you really?” Pablo crossed his arms and eyed Levi closely. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear.”

  Levi turned, walked out onto the balcony, and Pablo’s footsteps echoed as he followed. “I don’t know how I am. I’m hiding, I’m running. There’s a target on my back.” The words poured from him. “And I’m tired, Pablo. Like, deep down in my bones exhausted. I want my life back.” Fuck, his voice broke. “I want my life back.”

  “Which one?” Pablo asked quietly. “The life before Donovan Cintron, or the one you had with him?”

  Levi turned to him, mouth open. The question short-circuited his brain, it was that unexpected. “I—” He floundered.

  “It shouldn’t be that difficult.” Pablo’s tone was kind. “Not if you’re as done with him as you say.” His lips curved into a small smile. “You still love him, Levi.”

  The hell he did. He opened his mouth again.

  “You know it’s only a matter of time before he shows up, right?” Pablo lifted an eyebrow. “His husband is in danger.”

  Levi scoffed. “That’s not going to happen.” But his chest tightened, and he couldn’t be sure if the cause was dread or anticipation.

  “You’ve been running from him for seven years,” Pablo said quietly. “And he’s been honoring that, but this is different. This time you’re running from something and someone else—”

  “Because of him.”

  Pablo watched him closely. “Yeah.” He nodded. “So he’ll show up, because I would show up. Are you ready for that?”

  Levi turned away, holding on to the balcony’s railing with both hands. Wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about ever putting eyes on Van again. He’d just always shied away from journeying down that road, because the things the idea did to him…

  “If it’s done, let it be done.” Pablo slid in beside him. “If it’s broken—”

  “It is.” Levi hissed his frustration. “It’s fucking broken.”

  Pablo’s mouth curved. “I think it’s fixable, otherwise you wouldn’t be fighting it so hard. Or running so far.” A speculative gleam appeared in his eyes. “I know why you came up to me at that gun range in Philly.”

  The rapid change in topics unbalanced Levi and he blinked. “What?”

  “The first time we met.” Pablo grinned. “I knew Dutch put you up to it.”

  “You knew?” Levi stared at him. “But-but you came back the next day.” And the weekend after that. And the one after that, for a long time. Levi had wanted to get away from Mark Dulles, the senator threatening his and his son’s life if he didn’t stay away from Donovan. Dulles didn’t want his son to be with another man. He thought Levi and Izek had distracted Donovan from his job. And fuck, but Levi hadn’t wanted to be with Donovan after learning the truth. He’d asked Dutch for help—viewing Dane Hutchins as the lesser of those two evils—and Dutch brought Levi to a gun range in Philly, parked the car and pointed out Pablo to him.

  Get close to him, he’s said. Levi did.

  “I liked you.” Pablo shrugged. “That was the reason I proposed the arrangement I proposed.”

  “You got me out from under him withou
t Dutch even knowing.” Jesus. The respect he had for this man went up another fifty fucking notches. ‘Thank you,” he whispered. “For that. For this.” He waved at the room. “For protecting Izek and—”

  “It’s my pleasure.” A smile creased Pablo’s face. “Izek is a grown ass man. When the fuck did that happen?” He chuckled.

  “Hell. I can’t believe he’ll be eighteen soon.” The thought of his son made Levi’s chest ache. “I know he hates this.”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  Izek would be, yes, but the damage this moving from place to place did on their relationship might not be reparable. That was easier back when he was still a kid. He was growing up, and soon Levi wouldn’t be able to tell him what to do.

  “He’ll like it in Costa Rica,” Pablo said softly. “Trust me.”

  “Why are you helping me?” Levi asked Pablo frankly. “I mean, what we shared, it was no love affair. We enjoyed ourselves, but still…” He couldn’t quite get it. “Why are you always helping me?” Especially since Pablo had been the mark Levi had been blackmailed into getting close to.

  “I like you.” Pablo winked. “I also think my helping you is gonna bug the shit out of a certain FBI agent.” He shrugged. “I’m here for that.”

  Levi laughed. “So it’s purely selfish then?”

  “Yep.”

  “And Shane?” Levi asked. “How does he feel about all you’re doing? Protecting me, protecting my son?”

  At the mention of his husband, Pablo’s entire demeanor softened. It was gorgeous to watch. “Once you get to know my pretty boy, you’ll see he’s all about that cool and enlightened bullshit.” He grinned. “He was the one who suggested sending Izek to Costa Rica.”

  “You really love him.”

  “Love? Nah.” Something hard and dangerous darkened Pablo’s eyes. “He’s life. To me, he is life.” He bent toward Levi, voice surprisingly gentle when he said, “One day soon the man you’ve been loving in absentia for the past seven years will tell you the same thing. Think carefully before you dismiss him. Second chances don’t come around a third time.”

  Once Pablo left, Levi stayed out there on the balcony, letting the cold air slap him in the face and wet his eyes. He did his best to ignore Pablo’s parting words echoing in his head, but no dice.