“You’re such a baby,” Adam mimicked. “Fine. Next time, call Archer. Or Asa and Avi. The murder twins are always down for a little slice and dice,” Adam reminded him with a grunt, straining as he tried to get the man’s shirt off. “A little help here?”
Atticus sighed and August dropped his new toy. Together, the three of them wrestled the man’s clothes off and into a burn bag. August pulled the hose with the spray nozzle from its home on the wall. At least they still had the deserted factory to use in a pinch. As August hosed down the man’s mottled body, Atticus left and went to the van, returning with two bottles of industrial strength bleach, handing them masks and goggles before they uncorked the chemicals.
He was a stickler for the rules.
It was likely overkill, but they couldn’t take any chances. If they got caught, the whole family went down. Mutually assured destruction was the glue that held their fucked up little family together.
“Next time, can we just acid bath a bitch?” Adam asked, dumping the bleach over the corpse, nose and eyes burning despite the proper personal protection equipment.
“Those chemicals leave a paper trail. Besides, remember when Archer tried that and the barrel spilled?”
Adam shuddered. “Yeah, enough said.”
The rest of the job took about three hours to complete. By the time they were done, they were all covered in blood and bone shards. They loaded the now clean pieces into the cooler in August’s car before loading a layer of fish over top. They stripped out of their bloody clothes and took turns blasting each other with the icy hose water. Once they were changed into fresh clothes, they gave the place one more scrub with the bleach and the hose and August dumped the electric saw in a bucket of bleach before closing the place back up.
“You know what to do?” Atticus asked Adam.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve only done this about a thousand times.” He pulled his phone out, threw an arm around his brother, and sent the picture to Calliope.
Adam: Photoshop that into some nondescript bar and post it on our socials.
Her response came back lightning fast. Is that how you ask for something?
Adam: Sorry. Long night. Can you please do it for me, beautiful?
She sent two kissy face emojis and one suspicious one followed by: Yeah, done.
Adam was about to put his phone away when he saw he had another text. It was just one word. Home.
Noah. A jolt of awareness shot through Adam. He’d told him to text when he’d gotten home and he’d listened. The sound that escaped his throat was almost a growl. There was something about Noah following his orders that went straight to his dick and ignited a primal instinct that had his mind delving into the gutter thinking about all the other things he’d like to make Noah do for him…and to him.
Adam fell into the front seat of his father’s Land Rover but made no move to start the car, too busy thinking about what had happened between them just a couple of hours ago. Noah had been so easy, had melted into Adam, had let him do as he pleased.
But Noah had also been high. Maybe that was why he’d given in so easily, had made those sounds each time their mouths met. What other noises could he bring out of Noah if he had the time? He turned over the car’s engine, tempted to throw it in drive and go find him.
He hadn’t been invited. But his cock was hard just thinking about Noah’s sweet face and his slight body. There was so much fire packed in such a little frame. He’d been so fierce the day they met and so willing just a few hours ago. He’d wanted Adam, there was no denying that. And he didn’t think it was the drugs. At least, not just the drugs.
That kind of power was dangerous for someone like Adam. He lacked the gauge needed to temper his wants with Noah’s needs. If Noah gave him permission, Adam didn’t know if he could stop himself from pushing him to the limits. Adam liked being in control, taking charge, forcing others to bend to his wants. It was something he’d accepted about himself long ago. And there was always somebody willing to play with him, but since that very first night with Noah, there’d been nobody but Noah.
Adam hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. No matter what he did, Noah was never far from his mind. At first, Adam thought it was the guilt. Adam had broken Noah’s heart to save himself. He’d shown him who his father was, the disgusting things he’d done, probably triggering repressed memories Noah hadn’t been ready to face.
But it wasn’t guilt, or rather, it wasn’t only guilt. He just wanted to be near him. Adam spent his life dwelling in darkness and Noah felt like the light. He felt like the sun on Adam’s face. Whenever he saw him, something unknotted deep inside him and he could breathe…even if Noah didn’t know he was there.
And that was the problem.
Adam didn’t understand boundaries. As a child, he’d broken a lot of toys trying to make them do things they weren’t meant for. He didn’t want Noah to be another broken toy. He was already popping mystery pills and making out with murderous strangers in abandoned buildings. When he’d found out Adam wasn’t there to kill him, he’d sounded disappointed.
Maybe Noah needed Adam? Maybe he needed somebody to take care of him, watch over him, show him what he was capable of. Adam snorted. He couldn’t be Noah’s guardian angel—not when every time he closed his eyes he pictured him on his knees, begging Adam to do increasingly dirty things to him.