Run This Town 04 - (Watch Me) Save You Page 9

  Bad enough. “Not bad.” Tek coughed. “I’ll live.”

  He heard the shuddering breath Israel blew out. “Reggie’s out. You strapped?”

  “Dude.” What kind of question was that?

  “Aight. Get ready, they’re coming.”

  Tek was so ready. He sat back, facing the passenger side door, crouched down, the center console digging into his back, knees braced, bloodied fingers slippery on the handle of his guns. Someone yanked open his door and Tek squeezed one off, brap, catching the fucker in the throat. He grunted and staggered, legs folding under him.

  Tek spread out, a gun pointed at both front windows. He was calmest when he killed. And with a life like his, he liked the calm, so he didn’t mind taking lives. In his peripheral vision he saw Israel lurch upright and fire out the shattered window above his head.

  “Get those motherfuckers,” someone shouted.

  Damn it. How many were there? However much, it sounded like they were outgunned. As if that would stop Tek. He kept shooting as he heard the driver’s side back door open.

  Israel’s pained groan stuttered Tek’s hand on the trigger. He wanted to stand and continue the gun battle, but not at the expense of his friend and his new lover. He scrambled to the driver’s side and kicked it open with two tries, pushing Joe’s dead body out onto the dark pavement. He gritted his teeth at the pain in his side and jammed a foot on the gas, flooring the SUV as he hauled himself upright and twisted the wheel with one hand. The vehicle lurched forward.

  He couldn’t see shit, but he hunched over, almost laying on the wheel. The glass from the steering wheel stuck to his skin, his hair, the seat, and they cut into him like fucking crazy.

  “Is?” he called. “Is, you good?”

  Silence was his only response, and Tek didn’t like it one bit. A glance over his shoulder didn’t show any headlights behind him, so he drove about a half mile away before swerving off onto the side of the road, into a bank of trees. The darkness was fucking irritating, but at least the SUV wasn’t visible. He hopped out the vehicle when he was sure they were out of sight of anyone travelling on the road, knees buckling.

  He grabbed his side, eyes sliding shut for a second. He breathed in and out, tearing his phone from his pocket with jittery fingers. He hit redial on the number he hadn’t ever called before as he yanked open the back door. Is was curled protectively over Reggie, bleeding from his side, his gun on the floor.

  Fuck. Both men were covered in shattered glass.

  “Hello?”

  “Quinn. I need your help.” He touched a hand to both men’s neck, felt the steady pulse beat and almost passed out with relief.

  “Tek?” The shock in Quinn’s voice, if this was any other time Tek would laugh. But now wasn’t the time.

  “Israel needs your help.” He gave Quinn his location while the other man sputtered in his ear. “Listen to me,” he said softly. “Quinn, I need you to listen. This could cost Is his life, do you get me?”

  “Uh—”

  “Goddamn it, Quinn. I know you’re scared, but I need you to come, bring somebody you trust. I need to protect Is. I need you to help me.” Fuck. He was starting to shake from the adrenaline dump. “Quinn.”

  “I’m not scared.” So fucking stubborn.

  “Then prove it.” Tek issued the challenge as his knees gave out. He slid to the ground with one bloodied hand on the SUV.

  He was going to pass out. The phone slid from his hand, falling to the grass. He heard Quinn yelling for him, but Tek couldn’t muster the strength to answer.

  “Tek.” Someone was touching him, gingerly. Calling his name in soft panic. “Tek.”

  “Jesus, what the fuck happened?” Another voice.

  Tek lifted his lashes with a groan.

  “Tek.” Those gentle fingers grasped his face. Quinn.

  “You came.” Tek frowned then tried to get up, only to collapse against a bewildered-looking Quinn. “Is and Reggie. Fix them.”

  “They need to be in a hospital, man.” The stranger walked over to Tek, tried to touch him, and he knocked that hand away.

  “Israel isn’t going to a hospital,” Tek growled. “That’s final.”

  Quinn inhaled sharply and got down on his knees next to Tek. All the questions in his eyes, Tek ignored them. “The guy under Israel, he’s much worse. He needs to be seen by a doctor.”

  If anything happened to Reggie, Israel would never forgive Tek. “Take him then.” He lifted a hand to the stranger, biting back a cry of pain. “Is stays.”

  “Tek—”

  “Not up for debate.” Someone wanted Israel dead. How else had they been ambushed? The only people who knew they’d be in Atlanta were Israel’s crew, because even Renzo Vega didn’t expect them until the next evening.

  “Low,” Quinn spoke to the other guy. “Let’s load—Reggie, is it?” When Tek nodded Quinn got up and went to the other man. “Let’s get him to the hospital.”

  Tek faded in and out as they went about doing whatever it was they did, rolling Israel off Reggie then putting Reggie into Low’s car.

  “Keep me up to date,” he heard Quinn say.

  A door slammed.

  “You gonna be good?” Low asked.

  “Yeah. Go on.”

  Low did, driving off quickly. Tek took a breath. It hurt.

  “Come on.” Quinn stood over him. “Let’s get you away from here.”

  “Where’s Is?’ Tek glanced around.

  “Low helped me put him in my car. Can you walk?”

  If he had to. Tek nodded and braced himself against the shot-up SUV, rising gradually to his feet. He staggered when he went all light-headed, and Quinn was there.

  “Whoa. Whoa.” His palms were flat on Tek’s back, keeping him on his feet. “Come on.”

  They shuffled over to where Quinn was parked. Tek made out Israel all curled up in the backseat. His shirt was gone, but his wound had been bandaged. He wore only a pair of bloodied jeans with his sneakers.

  “He’ll be fine,” Quinn answered Tek’s unspoken question. “I just need to monitor him for a bit.” He glanced down at Tek’s wound. “I’ll take care of you when we get to my place.”

  “No.” Like hell he was letting Quinn take them back to his place. He crawled into the front seat and dropped his head back against the headrest, eyes closed as Quinn buckled him in. “Take us to a motel, one of those pay by the night joints.” He’d already brought Quinn into the middle of their shit. The last thing he wanted was to put the other man’s life in danger.

  He felt Quinn’s gaze on him then he uttered a soft, “Alright,” and they were speeding off.

  Tek drifted.

  “Tek.” That voice in his head, the hand on his shoulder.

  He opened his eyes.

  Quinn peered at him with worried eyes. “I got a room, but I need help carrying Israel inside.” He nodded at a green door a few feet away.

  “Yeah.” Hurt like a son of a bitch to breath, to move, but he managed to get out the car and stagger to Quinn. Together, they each grabbed one of an unconscious Israel’s legs and dragged him till he was almost out the car.

  Tek shouldered Quinn out the way and bent, gritting his teeth as he wrapped an arm around Israel. Quinn was there when he straightened, and together they staggered to the hotel room door. Quinn kicked it open and they went in, quickly dumping Israel on one of the two double beds in the relatively large room.

  Tek collapsed onto the bed with a pained grunt as Quinn went back to close the door. Then the other man was back, standing over Tek, staring down at him with a heavy gaze.

  “Let’s fix you.”

  Tek shook his head, jerked a chin to Israel. “Make sure he’s all good first.” He closed his eyes. “I’m—I’ll be fine.”

  Quinn shook his head, anger swirling in his dark eyes. He looked fierce.

  Exhaustion was calling Tek. He wiggled against the hard bed, looking up at Quinn from under his lashes. “I like you angry,” he hear
d himself mutter. “You look hot when you’re angry. I like hot.”

  When he woke he was on his back on the bed, shirtless. The pain in his side was there, only not as overwhelming as before. The fog in his head lifted and he replayed what happened, glancing across to the other bed. Israel was still there, still out of it by the looks of things.

  And Quinn?

  Tek searched the room and found Quinn sitting on the floor on the farthest side of the room, head was tilted back. Was he sleeping?

  “Quinn.” Tek whispered his name, and Quinn’s eyes popped open. He jumped to his feet and quickly approached Tek.

  “How are you feeling?” The concern in his gaze was real, the fear too.

  “Better,” Tek croaked.

  “The wound is a through-and-through. I cleaned you up, so you’ll… be okay.”

  Tek swallowed and forced a smile. ‘Thank you.”

  “You need to tell me what the hell is going on. Why someone shot at you. Why—”

  “I will.” Tek nodded. “Not now.”

  “Tek.” Quinn’s voice rose, his hands fisted at his sides. “You can’t expect me to—”

  “Thank you for helping us,” Tek said firmly. “I will tell you what happened, but not now.”

  Quinn broke their gaze and glanced at the bandage on Tek’s side. “Let me change your bandage.” He turned away then glanced over his shoulder. “How’s the pain, need some pain relievers?”

  “Nah.” He could deal with the pain.

  Quinn came back with a bunch of bandages and stuff to clean his wound that he dumped on the bed next to Tek. He dropped to his knees next to the bed then touched Tek, concentration in every line of his face.

  Tek inhaled. Yes, the tearing away of the bandage hurt, but the graze of Quinn’s knuckles on his skin, against his ribs was way more overwhelming. Way more potent. He closed his eyes, tried not to think too much as Quinn cleaned the wound and taped it up again.

  When Quinn drew back, Tek shot a hand out without opening his eyes, catching Quinn by the wrist, holding him. Quinn tensed.

  “You’re touching me,” Tek whispered.

  “Because I have to,” Quinn told him, a grudging acknowledgment. “That’s all.”

  Tek lifted his lashes. Quinn wasn’t looking at him, his gaze was focused on the clasp of Tek’s fingers around his wrist. Fear had his dark eyes wide, his throat moving, his lips trembling. Tek needed to know what scared Quinn.

  He peeled his fingers away from Quinn’s skin. “You don’t have to do anything, but I want you to do it again.”

  Quinn blinked. His hand, the one Tek was just holding, was still there, still suspended in the air as if Tek’s fingers remained on him. Quinn met Tek’s gaze then glanced back at the hand, letting it drop slowly back onto the bed. He bowed his head, fingers plucking at the cheap flowered comforter on the bed.

  “I scare you,” Tek said.

  That brought Quinn’s head up, the fire Tek admired so much sparking, hissing at him from the depths of those dark, haunted eyes. “You don’t scare me.” He slapped a hand onto Tek’s abdomen.

  Sharp enough for Tek to feel it in his wound, but he didn’t react, didn’t say a thing, and didn’t look away from Quinn’s challenging stare.

  The hard touch hesitated, faltered. “I’m touching you,” Quinn pointed out. “See?” He glanced down, lips parting as he stared at them, their skin, the colors, Quinn’s dark and Tek’s tan. He curled his hand, made it into a fist right there above Tek’s navel.

  Tek’s stomach contracted, his insides trembling. Quinn opened his hands again, turned it palm down against Tek’s belly, and dragged it a little bit.

  Slowly.

  Fucking slowly.

  Tek let his eyes close, let his body really absorb the touch. The smoothness of Quinn’s palm, the heat of his skin. He heard himself breathe, heavy. Heard Quinn swallow, loudly. He opened his eyes again, just in time to see Quinn lick his lips, making them wet. He didn’t stop touching Tek. He moved his palm away, though, then brought back one finger. The right index, lightly touching Tek’s side, tracing the ridges of his abs.

  Israel lay on the other bed mere inches away, still unconscious, and Tek shouldn’t be here, indulging in this.

  But this…

  Quinn circled Tek’s navel, nail scraping his skin.

  This was too fucking important to pass up, let go, brush aside. Quinn was touching him. The look on the other man’s face was interesting; concentration and determination and confusion.

  “You’re so hot,” Quinn murmured. He didn’t look at Tek. “Your skin. Blazing hot.” He turned his hand over, palm up, and dragged his knuckles down from Tek’s chest to his navel.

  Tek arched into it, lifting off the bed, a shocked sound burning his throat. “Quinn.”

  Quinn’s gaze snapped to Tek’s, his eyes over-bright. He snatched his hand away, fisting it as he got to his feet and gave Tek his back. “So now you know. I’m not afraid to touch you.” And in three strides he was gone, exiting the motel room.

  Running from what he’d just done to the both of them.

  Chapter Ten

  He still needed answers. Quinn didn’t think he’d ever get the real story other than the softly whispered, “my business is a dangerous one” from Israel. He’d glanced over at Tek then, Israel, searching Tek’s face then turning back to Quinn as if wondering why Quinn and Tek didn’t look at each other.

  Once he made sure Israel was all patched up and on the way to being healed, he’d pointed his old friend toward Emory where his lover was recovering from surgery.

  That shit freaked him out.

  Israel’s lover. A man named Reggie. The last time Quinn saw Israel, dude had been sandwiched between two chicks. A notorious player and suddenly Israel was involved with a man?

  The world was indeed crazy, with Quinn contributing to that malady by doing what he’d done. Touching Tek like that. Losing himself in it. For the first time he didn’t freak out, he didn’t melt down. He’d just wanted to keep touching and never stop.

  What the hell was that?

  All his pores had erupted when Tek arched off the bed. The lines in his face, the hard, smooth texture of his skin under Quinn’s knuckles.

  Outside the hospital room he’d been told Reggie Turner was in, Quinn stared down at his hands. He’d picked up the phone every single night since Tek left his place. Every single night, and only once had he mustered the courage to follow through. The fear that rocked him when he’d come upon the scene with Tek all bloodied and unconscious, that fear still coursed through him now. Israel had given Quinn some fucked up explanation for why they couldn’t go to the police, but all Quinn saw was that he didn’t really know Israel.

  Definitely not Tek.

  They were obviously engaged in illegal shit. Which was likely why Tek had needed to hold up at Quinn’s place. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in that. He’d gone back to work two days before Tek called for help. The restlessness in him had Quinn thinking he wouldn’t last much longer working as an EMT. He couldn’t get past the anxiety and nausea, and an EMT was the last field he should be in. He’d have to give notice then he’d go back to sitting around his house doing nothing.

  He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, putting on the mask he’d perfected when dealing with other people. Under his hand, the room door clicked open. Israel was sitting on the side of the bed, holding hands with the man on the bed, a slender man with coffee and cream skin, wearing a pale hospital gown.

  They both looked up when the door opened.

  Quinn stepped inside. “Israel.”

  “Quinn.” Is got up and went to him, hugging him then quickly letting go. “Reg, this is Quinn. He’s family.”

  “Hey.” Quinn managed a smile.

  Israel did well. Reggie was gorgeous. Quinn made out some tattoos on his left arm and his chest. His eyes were a light brown when he nodded up at Quinn.

  “I just came to check up on you.” Th
e connection between the two men was so blatant, it made Quinn angry for reasons he didn’t want to decipher. He just wanted to get the hell home. “I’m off my shift, ’bout to head home and crash.”

  “Thanks for everything,” Is said. “I promise I’ll explain soon.”

  “You’d better.” Quinn waved as he walked to the door. “And please take Tek with you when you leave.” He grasped the door handle, pulled it open. “I’m not—” His words died.

  Two men stood in the doorway. One with tattoos and piercings Quinn didn’t recognize. He dismissed that stranger in a blink. Who he couldn’t dismiss was the bald, dark-skinned man with his right hand up, fist balled as if he’d been interrupted mid-knock. His face was—that face was everything Quinn saw in his dreams, the good ones. Everything he cried out for during the nightmares. Everything he ached for, reached for.

  His husband.

  He heard Israel’s muttered, “Fuck,” through the rushing noise in his head. His screams, the taunts, the hammer dropping on the gun as they forced his fingers around the weapon, and the echoing hollow click when he squeezed the trigger and found himself without hope and without rescue.

  He heard it all, saw it all as he stared up into the face of the man he’d vowed to love and honor.

  “Quinn?” Xavier frowned.

  A whimper burned Quinn’s throat. He rocked back on his heels, wanting to rush into those arms. Those arms. He missed them. Xavier’s voice, so deep and comforting. He missed that. The man. His presence, his everything. Quinn missed him.

  Someone came to stand next to Quinn. Israel. “Hey, cuz. Quinn was just leaving.”

  “What—” Xavier looked beyond Quinn and into the room. “What are you doing here?”

  He didn’t know. Quinn didn’t know anything anymore. “I—” He stepped back, bumping into Israel. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Xavier stepped forward

  Quinn flinched.

  “Fuck, Quinn.” Xavier reached out, and Quinn succumbed to the panic gripping him. He ducked away, pushing the tattooed and pierced stranger aside as he ran from his husband.

  Again.

  He crashed through one of the exits leading to the stairs and slumped over, grasping his knees. The emotions were overwhelming, grief and anger and fear. Panic and sorrow. Loss. So big in his chest when he was faced, for the first time in years, with just what and who he’d lost. That realization had his ass hitting the stairs. He’d left his home. Not the building, not the location, but Xavier.