Chapter Four

This had to be the nicest garage in the world. Tyler walked around the four cars parked inside, two of Sebastian’s, Luke’s—and now Raif’s. Off to one side, there was a workshop type area with gleaming steel doors and a big wooden table with slabs of wood on it. There was sawdust all over the floor from the latest project Scott was doing for Ramos. Looked kinda like he was putting together a cage.

A really big-ass cage. Jami’s not that big, so…

Tyler glanced over at Luke, half asleep on one of the two brown leather La-Z-Boys in the sitting area, and decided he didn’t want to know. He laughed as Scott waved him over to the small bar just off the sitting area and slid onto the high, red stool.

“Thought you wanted to catch up on the drinking before we got any more?” He held up the shot glass, throwing it back, expecting vodka. He nearly choked when the biting taste of pepper and pine trees filled his mouth. “What the fuck, Scott? This shit is nasty!”

“It’s gin. You don’t like it?” Scott drained his own glass, then shuddered. “Ugh, yeah, don’t blame you.” He added his empty shot glass to the ones he’d lined up on the bar, all different colors of the drinks he’d decided to sample. “Someone told me the pricey stuff tasted better. They lie!”

Luke snorted, a crooked smile on his lips as he stumbled from his chair, righting himself a second before Tyler had to grab him. “Don’t drink it straight, dumbass. Is pretty good if ya mix it.”

Scott nodded, his expression grave. “Yeah, that makes sense. What do you want, Luke? A martini? Rich pets like martinis, right?”

“Oh fuck off, Scott. Like you’re poor?” Luke scowled as he reached for the bottle of whiskey Scott had left on the bar, missing it completely his first try. “Quit moving.”

He’s fucking plastered. Tyler grinned and decided to help Luke out. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and twisted the top off. Decided he was thirsty and took a few gulps before handing it to Luke. Rubbed his eyes with one hand as his vision blurred. “I don’t think any of us should be driving.”

Scott blinked at Tyler, then laughed. “Are you nuts? None of us is getting behind the wheel of a car for…” He looked at his bare wrist. “Hey, what time is it?”

Tyler had a phone. It was somewhere. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t gonna find it anytime soon. So he looked at the clock on the wall. Stupid thing had weird lines on it, but no numbers. What good was a clock without numbers?

“It’s 2…8.” Luke announced, squinting at his phone. “Not that late.”

“That’s not a time,” Scott said, smiling with his lips against his shot glass. “Go home, Luke. You’re drunk.”

Luke arched a brow and looked at the door leading into the house he shared with Ramos. “Done and done. And I gotta keep your hammered asses here now.”

Scott sputtered his drink across the bar. “Hammered asses? Are you hitting on us, man?”

The stool Tyler was sitting on didn’t seem quite stable as he leaned forward, holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard. He tried to climb up onto the nice, steady bar, but it was too high. And the stool wouldn’t stop tipping sideways. So he slid off it onto the floor. Nice, cool, shiny floor.

“Tyler, you’re a fucking genius.” Luke plopped onto the floor beside Tyler and stretched out on his back. “And I think I’s had too much.”

“Ya think?” Scott frowned at all the shot glasses he’d drained, then brought a bottle of bourbon and placed it on the floor in front of him as he sat with his knees bent. He folded his arms on his knees and rested his chin on them. “Damn, I know we promised never to do this again, but I feel good. How about we do this once a month and be good the rest of the time?”

One arm plopped over his eyes, Luke groaned. “You be good. I’m still young.”

“So I’m old?”

“Just a little old. You should be the responsible one.” Luke dropped his arm to his side and looked over at Raif’s car. “You let us steal a car.”

“We borrowed it.” Tyler made a face, wishing he could lie down like Luke, but knowing they had to do something about the car. There had been a plan, but he couldn’t remember it now. “Raif’s gonna be mad, isn’t he?”

Luke moved like he was going to sit up, then stopped and just put an arm under his head, regarding Tyler with unfocused eyes. “I thought you hated him? He treated you like crap and punished you and—”

“I wanted to be punished, but then I started thinking about my mom, and it’s weird thinking about her when I’m at the club, but my head was getting all messed up and I’m worried.” Tyler inhaled to replace all the air he’d let out in the rush of words. Then he tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth. “And Raif… I don’t know how I feel about him. And I blame you guys.”

“I blame us too,” Scott held up the bottle in cheers before tipping it to his lips. After he swallowed, he held the bottle with both hands and grinned at Tyler. “We’ve corrupted you. You see how good we’ve got it, just loving who we love, not giving a shit what anyone thinks.”

Luke rolled his eyes and bumped Tyler’s knee with his fist. “It’s the drunk voice of reason. Listen up.”

Tyler shook his head. “But that’s it. I’m not like you guys. I’ve never tried anything with a—never wanted to…” He groaned when Scott and Luke just stared at him, waiting. “He’s a boy!”

“Raif’s a man, Tyler. And you’re a man. And you don’t think men should do stuff.” Luke sighed. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“And the last person you should be starting with is Raif.” Scott’s tone grew bitter as he glared at the wall. “I don’t trust him.”

“Me neither.” Luke’s lips twisted like he was thinking hard. “We started angel boy’s corruption. We should finish it.”

Ha! Like I can get any worse. Tyler hung his head, remembering how mad he’d made Chicklet. Well, maybe not mad. Disappointed. And not because he’d played after getting hurt, but because he’d made a decision and then acted like he couldn’t take two steps without her waving pom-poms at him.

Laura was Chicklet’s slave and she needed Chicklet taking away all her choices when she wasn’t at work. From the clothes she wore to what she ate. He and Chicklet had talked once about whether he needed something like that and the answer had been a great big “No.”

He didn’t want to be a slave and he wasn’t a kid. Maybe that’s what he could do to make Chicklet proud of him.

Prove it.

He looked at Scott, then shook his head. “Scott’s having enough trouble with Raif and Pearce. He can’t be finishing anything.”

“I agree.” Luke’s eyes drifted shut and his lips slanted in a sleepy smile. “Guess I gotta do it.”

Might as well just go for it. Tyler wet his lips with his tongue and leaned over Luke. Took a deep breath and tried to hear Chicklet’s voice. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t prove nothin’ by asking her what he should do, even if it was in his own damn head. She encouraged him to try new things. The way their relationship was set up, he had a green light for just about anything. So long as it didn’t change how he served her.

And this wouldn’t. This would just…just clear things up.

He moved so fast his lips slammed down on Luke’s. Hurt a bit. Then a lot more when Luke shoved him off and his back hit the pavement.

“What the fuck, Tyler?” Luke’s tone was sharp. He slapped his hand on the center of Tyler’s chest before Tyler could sit up. Cocked his head as Tyler gaped up at him. A devious smile spread across his lips. “If you’re gonna kiss me, wanna make it less like a punch in the mouth?”

“Uh…sorry?” Tyler couldn’t tell whether or not Luke was pissed about the kiss. He didn’t look it. Actually, he looked a little scary. Tyler swallowed. “But I did it and, umm, didn’t do anything for me. I don’t like dudes.”

That had both Scott and Luke laughing like freakin’ morons. He tried to push Luke off him. Dropped his head back and sighed heavily when Luke wouldn’t budge.

Luke raked his fingers into Tyler’s curls, bending down, his eyes hooded. “If I didn’t know one kiss would make you think you were in love with my man, I’d ask Seb to do this. Tomorrow, we’ll both agree we were drunk and did some stupid shit. We’re just friends, right?”

“Right.” Tyler shivered, something about the way Luke held him, the way he spoke—if they were both wolves in a pack, Luke wouldn’t be the biggest or the strongest, but Tyler would be beneath him. And he could either bare his throat in submission or have it ripped out.

“Relax, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Luke traced Tyler’s bottom lip with his tongue. The liquor on his breath made Tyler’s head spin. He opened his mouth to the kiss, shaking hard as Luke’s tongue touched his, not sure whether he wanted more but pretty damn sure he didn’t want to stop. Luke’s lips were hot. Soft. He used just enough pressure to show Tyler who was in control as he took his time exploring Tyler’s mouth.

Scott made a strangled sound and put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Enough. You proved your point.”

Holy shit! What the hell am I doing? Tyler scrambled out from under Luke, feeling dizzy and even more confused than before. He grabbed the bourbon and took a few long gulps. Scrubbed his mouth with his fist to get rid of the taste of his best friend’s mouth.

“I should get out of here. Fuck.” Tyler stood. Swayed. Spun around and slammed into Scott, who had some super speedy powers. When had he moved? And who cared? Tyler twisted when Scott grabbed his arms. “Let me go.”

“Tyler, listen to me. I’m Switzerland.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah, and so are you. And so is Luke.” Scott moved one hand to rub his eyes. “What I mean is I’m not a Dom, or a sub, or a switch. I’m just a little kinky.”

“And I don’t like boys. And even if I did—” Tyler loved Luke, but almost like a brother. And that was fucked up because that made their kissing fucking gross. “I shouldn’t have done that. Things will be weird now. I don’t wanna fuck Luke.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you, Tyler. You’re not Seb.” Luke finally managed to make it to his feet. He walked in a crooked line over to Raif’s car. “And you’re not Jami. But you act kinda like Jami. Is a little weird.”

“Because he’s a sub, you idiot.” Scott shook his head. Then took the bourbon from Tyler. “It was a kiss. You probably won’t remember it tomorrow, so no worries, all right?”

Tyler nodded, grunting when Scott hugged him and slapped his back really, really hard. They both turned to watch Luke climb into Raif’s car.

“No driving, Luke,” Scott said, sounding annoyed.

Luke rolled his eyes. “No shit? Car’s gotta get out though. In neutral. I steer, you push.”

“Right.” Scott motioned to the front of the car. Together, he and Tyler pushed the car toward the front of the garage. Gained some momentum. Scott suddenly latched on to Tyler’s arm and shouted. “Brake, Luke! The door isn’t—!”

Smash! The car tore the bottom half of the closed garage door from its frame. Tyler ran to the back of the car as Scott helped Luke out of the front seat. Red shards littered the pavement from the broken taillights. He ducked under the folded metal of the garage door, wincing as he took in the damage.

Scott and Luke joined him. Luke had a bump forming on his forehead, probably from the steering wheel. But he didn’t look like he was in pain.

He looked as shocked as Tyler felt. He cursed under his breath.

The sound of sirens, coming closer, made the blood in Tyler’s veins colder than the raindrops plopping on his head.

They were so screwed.

A low whistle had them all turning. A girl who looked kinda like a young Avril Lavigne, shoulder-length blonde hair streaked with blood red, stood halfway up the driveway. Her coat and baggy pants had to have come straight from an army surplus.

She tugged her camo beanie hat low and glanced nervously at the approaching cop cars. “Umm, Luke, I know you probably aren’t too thrilled to see me, but you mind not telling anyone I was here?”

“Damn it, Sam!” Luke pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her. “Get inside. I won’t say nothin’.”

A sweet smile on her lips, the girl, Sam, snatched the keys out of the air and darted for the front door. She spun around at the last second, calling out. “Thought I was in trouble, bro, but kinda looks like you’re in worse! Good luck!”

“Trouble? What trouble?” Luke stepped away from Tyler and Scott. Frowned when the squad cars screeched to a stop at the end of the driveway. “Damn it, what’s that little punk done now?”

Scott cleared his throat as the cops started getting out of the cars. “She’s right, man. We kinda got our own problems.”

“Yeah.” Luke shook his head sadly, looking over at the busted garage door. “Seb’s gonna be so mad.”

Tyler had to fight really hard not to laugh. He put his hands up as the cops yelled at them, the noisy sirens making his head pound. His stomach did a nasty flop, like he was on a ship caught in crashing waves. He probably shouldn’t have drunk so much.

“Hands on the car.” A big, bald policeman came over. He didn’t sound very happy. The cops striding up behind him didn’t look happy either.

Both Tyler and Scott did what they were told. Luke folded his arms over his chest, glancing back at the bald cop, talking like he wasn’t as worried as he should be. “Think it’ll be hard to fix?”

Another cop latched on to Luke’s arm and slammed him against the car. “You deaf, pal? Hands on the fucking car!”

“I hear you. Damn, how about a drink first, stud?” Luke snickered as the cop stared at him. “I like long walks and flowers and—”

“Shut up, Luke!” Scott pushed away from the car, reaching out like he wanted to grab Luke and shake him. The third cop hauled him back and half threw him over the trunk.

“You’re under arrest on the charge of auto theft.” The bald cop continued reading them their rights, his tone bored. He was the one who snapped the cuffs on Tyler’s wrists. Was nice and calm as he led Tyler to one of the cars. “Son, I have a feeling your teammates are a bad influence. You tell me what happened, and we might be able to get you on the ice for the next game.”

Reality hit Tyler like a safe in a cartoon dropped right on his head. He sat in the backseat of the cop’s car and pressed his forehead to his knees. I’m a dead man. “Not gonna happen, sir. Coach is gonna kill me.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the cop said, clearly not knowing Callahan at all. “That’s your teammate’s car, isn’t it? If he drops the charges and you tell your coach who was responsible, I’m sure—”

“That’s the thing.” Tyler kinda hoped the charges wouldn’t be dropped. Then he could hide in a cell for the rest of his life and Callahan wouldn’t have to commit murder. Even more importantly, Chicklet wouldn’t have to see him and tell him how disappointed she was in him. Again.

There was only one thing to do. He had to come clean.

“Officer, I’d like to confess now.” He inhaled deeply. “This was all my fault.”

* * * *

Raif had been to many places in his thirty-one years. From the Egyptian deserts to the wilds of Africa. His parents had considered experiencing the world just as important as any amount of schooling. He’d even done a student exchange for three months in Ohio.

Museums, ruins, jungles, and weeks out in the middle of the Atlantic. But he’d never been in a police station.

Then again, he’d never had anything stolen from him either.

He hadn’t even seen his car yet, but from what the police officer had told him, there was some damage. Luckily, the anger he’d felt on finding his car missing from the parking lot had faded. Now that he knew who’d done it, he almost wished he hadn’t called it in. With the GPS tracking system he’d had installed, finding the car had taken no time at all. Anger had shifted to bitterness and a sense of betrayal. He was aware that he had few fans on the team. Tyler’s hero worship had clearly died, and some of the younger players were following the veterans’ lead in treating Raif with cold professionalism.

Which he accepted, but they’d gone too far. Fine, he wasn’t popular. He had earned the team’s respect though. A prank he could have handled—he could take a joke.

This wasn’t a joke. Raif leaned back in the stiff wooden chair as an officer sat at the desk across from him. Tapped his fingers irritably on his knee as the man fiddled with a laptop and chuckled at whatever was on the screen. Being here was humiliating enough. There was no way the police weren’t perfectly aware of his connection to the players they had in holding.

“Excuse me.” Raif cleared his throat, a stiff smile on his lips when the officer glanced up at him. “I’ve said I won’t press charges. May I leave?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I just thought…” The officer turned the laptop so Raif could see the screen. “Friends or not, you must be ripping? Detective Hamilton’s reading them the riot act. That boy, Carter, might not get out tonight if he keeps mouthing off.”

There was some grim satisfaction to seeing Tyler and Demyan sitting on the cement shelf-like bed, cringing as the detective shouted at them about the damage they’d done and the lives they’d put in danger even trying to roll the car onto the street. Both looked appropriately ashamed of themselves.

Carter, however, was staring out into the hall beyond the holding cell. The officer pressed a button on the laptop and turned the sound up. Carter was banging his head against the small window, muttering to himself. “Fuck you. I ain’t staying in here. I gotta tell Seb I’m sorry. He’s gonna be so mad.”

“You’ll be lucky to get out on bail, boy.” Hamilton moved to stand beside Carter. “Go sit down.”

Spine stiff, Carter lifted his head, eyes narrowed and words slurred. “I ain’t gonna. Seb’s coming for me. I’ve gotta fix this.”

“Shut up and sit down, Luke!” Tyler hissed. He rubbed his lips with the heel of his palm. “He’s drunk, Mr. Detective, sir. Don’t listen to him.”

“You’re in enough trouble yourself, young man. I’d be less concerned for your friends if I were you.” Hamilton flattened his hand on Carter’s chest and backed him to the bed to sit beside Demyan. He gestured to Tyler. “Come with me.”

Tyler’s face went white. He followed the detective out.

Raif stood and met the officer’s eyes over the laptop. “Since I’m not pressing charges, may they leave?”

“They’re all drunk, so someone will have to come pick them up,” the officer said.

“I will take Tyler home. Please bring me to him.” Raif wasn’t sure why he should even bother. Only, a small, calm voice in his head told him he was responsible for Tyler’s part in this. He hadn’t been comfortable with the way things had ended after their scene. Demyan would have done this alone—or with Carter’s help. But Raif found it hard to believe Tyler would have participated if he hadn’t been so confused.

The officer nodded and led Raif toward the back to an office where he was asked to wait. Seconds later, another officer came in. With Zach.

Then shut the door, leaving them alone.

“What the hell happened tonight, Raif? I mean—fuck, I’m sorry.” Zach tipped his head back. His dark blue suit was wrinkled, as though he’d put it on quickly after having tossed it haphazardly on the floor. His tie was crooked, which made Raif smile. In the minors, Zach had usually managed to look presentable even after they’d ripped off each other’s suits on the way into their hotel room. The only evidence of the rush to get dressed was always Zach’s tie.

Without thinking, Raif straightened it, like he always had. “This isn’t your doing, Zach.”

“If he stays—if you don’t drop the charges…” Zach raked his fingers through his short brown hair. “This makes the press and he’ll get traded. It might already be too late.”

“It’s not. I’ve already dropped the charges.”

“Raif…” Zach caught Raif’s wrist. Pulled him in until their lips met. His mouth was hot, his kiss rough, as it had always been. Raif felt the familiar surge of lust as Zach pressed against him. As he whispered, “Thank you.”

Lust, but…nothing more. The rage, the betrayal, all he’d felt when his car had been stolen didn’t compare to the pain as his flesh went cold and numb. As he had to finally face that Zach was lost to him.

The door opened even as Raif gently pushed Zach back. He looked over and couldn’t hold in the bitter laugh as he met Demyan’s eyes. He almost pitied the man. Only, between taking a joyride in Raif’s car and getting drunk, his night couldn’t have been the tragic comedy Raif’s had been so far.

“Scott.” Zach tripped away from Raif. Shook his head. “I—it’s—damn it!”

Demyan had already shoved past the officer, calling over his shoulder. “Tell Becky to come get me when she’s not busy. If she can’t, I’ll stay until they decide I’m sober.”

Zach couldn’t follow Demyan right away; the doorway was blocked. By Tyler, who stood there, staring at Raif as though the evil Raif had done could never be forgiven. Once Zach was gone, Raif stepped up to Tyler.

And didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You may leave with me now or wait for your Mistress. And I couldn’t care less what you decide.”

Tyler folded his arms over his chest. Tipped sideways. Grumbled something as Raif held his shoulders to keep him on his feet.

Damn you, you stupid boy. There was no way Raif could pretend he didn’t care. The boy looked lost, and angry, and perhaps a little afraid. Raif didn’t believe Tyler was scared of Chicklet. If anything, he was likely afraid to lose her.

Not Raif’s problem, not something he wanted to get involved in. Raif should walk out and never look back. He had half a mind to ask for a trade. One he wouldn’t get this close to the playoffs. But he could bear another month or so—perform well in the playoffs and have several offers from other teams. Leave this mess behind.

“Scott is one of my best friends. You shouldn’t have done that—you really fucked things up for him.” Tyler blinked fast. Sniffed. “I fucked up too. Didn’t mean for your window to get broke. Or your lights. I’ll pay for them. But I’m not sure if I’m sorry.”

Now that was not what Raif had expected to hear. He put his hand on the back of Tyler’s neck and led him to the main area of the police station. Breathed a little easier when Tyler let him take his jacket from the officer and help him put it on.

Raif didn’t speak until they were in the cab he’d left waiting outside with the meter running. “Why wouldn’t you be sorry?”

“I had to show you how it felt to have something taken from you. But I didn’t take something that matters. So it doesn’t count.” Tyler slid over to the other side of the backseat. Leaned against the door as Raif climbed in beside him. “You were my hero.”

But not anymore. Raif sighed. “I know.”

“I still look at you that way. Like you can do no wrong. Heroes don’t hurt people. They’re supposed to be perfect. Why can’t you be the man you were in my head? How I feel would make so much more sense.”

“I never claimed to be perfect, Ty.”

“I thought you were. For a really long time.” Tyler slipped sideways as the taxi made a sharp turn. His head rested on Raif’s lap. “Be perfect again. Then I won’t care that you’re a boy.”

That light weight on Raif’s thigh made it hard to breathe. A flash of images ran through his head. Tyler smiling up at him as Raif taped his stick. Ducking his head when Raif looked at him in the locker room showers. Stuttering every time Raif came up to him and he wasn’t surrounded by friends.

“What do you want from me, Tyler?” Raif looked down at the rumpled curls, pale gold glowing in the streetlight. At the thick eyelashes resting on Tyler’s pale cheeks. In a restful state, the boy really did seem like an angel. Innocent and pure. Not capable of stealing cars or lashing out at anyone because he was lost and hurt. Who the hell had hurt him so much that he could go from being peaceful to defensive so quickly?

The cab had stopped in front of Tyler’s condo before he finally answered. “I don’t know.”

Shaking his head, Raif got out, asking the cabbie to wait again so he could see Tyler to his door. The young man looked like he was sleepwalking, but managed fine on his own, which was a relief. Raif wasn’t sure he could support Tyler right now in any way, not without becoming confused himself. Letting go of Zach still felt like tearing open stitches on a wound he hadn’t known he had. But one he could ignore once he put things into perspective. The life Zach had, one that appeared so perfect, wasn’t for Raif.

Who knew how long he would be with this team in any case?

When Tyler stopped in front of a door, Raif watched him, waiting for him to open it. Tyler took out his keys. Fisted them in his hand.

Then groaned and leaned against the wall. “Maybe I should go to a hotel or something. Talk to Chicklet tomorrow with a clear head—let her sleep, you know?”

Why a hotel? Raif opened his mouth, ready to suggest Tyler come home with him. But no, that would be a very bad idea. He wouldn’t touch Tyler while he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol. First thing in the morning, though? Raif would be tempted, and he’d had enough rejection to last him a lifetime. The next person he had in his bed would know exactly what they were getting into. They’d want what Raif could give. Which was much less than Tyler needed.

“If she’s sleeping I see no reason to wake her. If you don’t have your own bed, the sofa will do.” Raif held out his hand for the keys. The door was opened before he could unlock it. He smiled pleasantly at Chicklet before nudging Tyler toward her. “I think this belongs to you.”

“‘This’?” Chicklet stepped aside so Tyler could pass, her gaze never leaving Raif’s face. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Raif inclined his head to Chicklet, his tone light. “You and I have nothing else to discuss.”