"I told him that I'm not stupid enough to trust him with the money, especially not after he trashed the place thinking that he could put his hands on my share. At the end he told me the meeting place."
Trey held his eyes closed, his breathing evened out and deep. He had woken up just a few minutes ago and even though he hadn't been eavesdropping for long, he did comprehend that whatever Nash was talking about was connected to the deal he'd made with Tony and that the person on the other side wasn't that sneaky pony-tailed bastard.
"At eleven p.m. behind the Purloin Bar near Pier 23 B." A short pause. "Yes, I know that place is deserted at that time - don't start lecturing me, I know the risks myself. Just be there, okay?"
Who was Nash talking with? And what it was all about? Trey frowned. He was stupid and naive, wasn't he? Since he had gotten Steve's address from the detective he'd hired after Pat's death and found the temporary part-time job in the grocery store across from Steve's building (or Nash's, he should say), he had only focused on what he was going to do to Steve, delighting in the promise of seeing Steve at his mercy. And then after he had crashed into Nash's place, the only thing that had troubled and occupied his mind was Steve's location and how he could get it, and until now when the paper with Steve's whereabouts lay hidden under his pillow, he hadn't been interested in why Nash impersonated Steve.
But why did Nash represent himself as Steve? He peeked under his lashes through the darkness at Nash, at the silhouette beside the bathroom door.
"Did you prepare the things like I asked you?" Nash leaned on the wall straitened. "You already put it in the locker? That's good. I'll pick them on my way, then."
Trey closed his eyes. It didn't matter why Nash pretended to be Steve or at least it shouldn't; he had gotten what he wanted and that should be the end of it. But somehow now the whole revenge thing didn't seem as urgent as before.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful, I'm always careful," Nash said before he said goodbye and closed the phone. He went toward the bed, set the phone on the nightstand and climbed under the covers. He wrapped his arms around Trey. "You shouldn't eavesdrop."
"I wasn't. You woke me up." Trey turned in Nash's embrace, he bit into his lip. He really shouldn't inquire about Nash's plans, but... "Was that Steve?"
"No, it wasn't Steve. Are you afraid that I might hand you over to him?"
"No." Trey wasn't afraid of that. His gut feeling told him that Nash wouldn't hurt him, not intentionally anyway, let alone pass him to somebody who would. "So, who did you talk with? And what was that all about?"
"Nothing that concerns you. Now, go to sleep, there are still five hours before morning."
Trey rolled onto Nash and laid his head on Nash's shoulder. He hadn't really expected Nash to tell him. "I'll never see you again, will I?"
"Probably not."
"But you like me, don't you? You are always touching me and kissing me."
"So?" Nash's hand slid over Trey's back.
"Why haven't you done anything more?" Trey widened his legs and put his knees on both sides of Nash's body. It was fine with him if Nash went beyond simple touching. He liked Nash and as much that was beyond his comprehension, he had come to terms with that and spreading his legs for Nash would be like sex with Liam – just a more intimate way of showing affection, nothing more.
"To avoid adding a new scar to your already damaged soul and making you even more of a loony than you already are."
"I'm not a loony." Trey moved his pelvis lower, over Nash's already woken flesh. "And even if I were, you wouldn't do that." He rubbed his groin over Nash's.
Nash gasped; his hands took hold of Trey's head and lifted it. "I said that I won't cross the line, that I won't use you for my gratification." His eyes stared at Trey in the dimness and his voice was surprisingly serious. "You seem so fragile, as if one wrong word or gesture could send you over the edge, but..." With his hand still holding Trey's head he gently pulled him higher until Trey's face was above his. "If you don't get off me this minute, I will ignore all my good intentions and fuck you."
Trey stared at Nash, he bit into his lip and pressed down his hips. His erection slid against Nash's hardness, sending voluptuous shivers up his spine and he could feel the fire blooming in the pit of his stomach. That had never happened with Liam. Sex with Liam was little more than a comfortable affair, which gave Trey a nice climax and temporary fulfilment - not even close to this heat inside him now; the fire that raged and demanded more. "I wouldn't mind you fucking me."
Nash wrapped his arms around Trey and rolled them over, so that he lay on Trey, between Trey's spread legs, his rolling hips creating gentle friction between their bodies. "I don't like 'I wouldn't mind', it sounds like you are trying to repay me for giving you Steve's address."
"No, I'm not, it's just..." Trey furrowed his brows together. This was the last night he was going to spend with Nash and since Nash's touch didn't repulse him, this was his chance to gather more experiences- or that was what he told himself - to see first-hand if sex could be more than just nice, but thanks to the sizzling feeling that pumped though his body he already had an inkling that sex could be quite more than just nice. "You make me feel horny."
"That's much better than 'I wouldn't mind'." Nash grinned, his mouth a wisp away from Trey's. He pressed a kiss on Trey's lips, his hands slid under Trey's shirt and caressed Trey's skin.
Trey drowned in the sensation of the velvet tongue rubbing against his, seducing him to follow it into Nash's mouth. He wrapped an arm around Nash's neck, while the other glided down and sneaked between their bodies; he touched Nash's erection, his palm cupping it. The size and thickness of the pulsing flesh beneath the fabric in his palm sent a wave of heat up Trey's spine and into Trey's cheeks.
Nash's breath hitched, he ended the kiss and pulled himself onto his knees between Trey's legs. He quickly got rid of his shirt, sleeping pants and underwear, then his hands were back on Trey, tugging on Trey's shirt.
"No." Trey refused to get rid of the shirt, he had scars and he wasn't willing to show them, even though Nash had already seen them. He was grateful to Nash when he shifted his attention to Trey's pants and boxers, pulling them off Trey's body.
The clothes ended up on the floor and Nash leaned over Trey; he turned on a small lamp on the nightstand.
Trey blinked a couple of times then his eyes travelled over Nash's body. There was still a large bandage on Nash's torso, but that couldn't hide the beauty and the power of Nash's body. Trey swallowed and looked up at Nash's face.
Nash cupped Trey's cheek . "Don't be afraid."
"I'm not."
"You sure?" Nash lay down, their groins touched.
Trey almost moaned at the contact of skin on skin. "Yes."
"You don't sound too convincing." Nash rolled his hips, his hard cock sliding against Trey's.
Trey wrapped his arms around Nash's shoulders and pressed himself as close as he could. His pelvis pushed against Nash, hushed moans coming out of his mouth as his legs embraced Nash's hips.
Their movement became rougher, the friction between their erections making Trey almost dizzy.
Nash's lips captured Trey's in a deep kiss, his mouth sucking the breath out of Trey's.
The tension in Trey's balls exploded, his toes curled and a white jet dirtied their stomachs. He ended the kiss and catching his breath, he still held onto Nash, onto the blond's hard body that was moving between his legs. The iron shaft glided against his now soft flesh and against his exposed navel.
Trey closed his eyes for a moment, his limbs so wonderfully relaxed, his mind still floating on the cloud of afterglow. He hadn't expected such intensity just from simple rubbing, and the thought of what would follow sent small shivers up his spine. His eyes fluttered open and he stared back at those green eyes. His hand slid over Nash's shoulder, down Nash's back and, enchanted, he watched how Nash's face grimaced and soft cries escaped Nash's throat as he stilled and wet warmth pooled between them.
Nash rolled onto his side.
"Is that all?" Trey pulled down the shirt that Nash's movement a while ago had shifted higher, exposing his scarred navel and his chest. He used the shirt's edge to wipe the stickiness off his belly.
"For now," Nash said, his voice wavering and his breath rushed. He pulled himself up on his elbow, so that he could look down on Trey, and flicked Trey's forehead "You just came, you greedy thing, aren't you satisfied?"
"Well..." Trey tried to smile. He wanted to take the whole thing lightly like Nash did, but expecting more from Nash and getting less was like a weight on his chest. He knew that not being good enough had nothing to do with this whole thing – he knew that. He knew that.
Nash's face became serious. "You have issues, and pretty heavy ones by the looks of things, and besides, you seem like the closest you came to sex was masturbation – and I'm not into virgins."
"I'm not a virgin." Trey's fingers wrinkled the fabric then he smoothed it. Nash was thinking about him, wasn't he? He was being much more considerate than Liam had been. Wasn't he?
Nash looked down on him with something that looked suspiciously like pity in his eyes.
Why did he have a look like that in his eyes? "What?" Trey asked.
"Nothing." Nash's hand touched Trey's cheek and caressed it. "You just seem so lost right now."
Trey leaned into the warmth of Nash's fingers. He mostly didn't like people touching him, but... Nash was one of the few whose touch felt so good and comforting, and he wished that Nash's hands and arms and embrace could always be there for him, making him feel better with only a single caress. Like now. "You are really a nice guy, too nice to be a robber and a drug dealer. Who are you? Are you really a criminal? "
"You saw the money. What do you think?"
"You don't feel like a criminal to me. But what do I know? My psychiatrist can tell you that I'm not one of the most sensible people."
"You have your moments." Nash lay down and rested his head on the pillow beside Trey's. "I don't know what happened to you, but I do know what kind of man Steve was and the way you act, I can see that it had to be something quite traumatic."
"Was? Has he changed?" Trey almost spit out. "I don't believe that. People like him they don't change. They are just good at pretending."
"What happened?" Nash wrapped his arm around Trey's waist and pulled him against his chest.
Trey frowned, he didn't want to tell, but there was something in Nash, something in those green eyes that forced the words out of his mouth. "We got lost, my sister and I, and he stumbled across us and told us that he would help us find our group. But he didn't. He didn't. He tricked us and – I don't remember after – he must have drugged us." He faced Nash and leaned his cheeks against Nash's collarbone. He hated remembering that, how naive they had been with Patty, two sheltered country pumpkins, who were, for the first time in their thirteen-year-old lives, in the big city without their parents, on a trip with their local choir.
"It's okay." Nash's hands slid up and down Trey's back.
No, it's not okay. "When I woke up, I was in the barn, tied up and there were noises, horrible noises..." Trey had gone over this memory a hundred times and he hated that it could still bring tears to his eyes. "Men were raping Patty and I couldn't do anything about it and Steve mocked me and –" He took a deep breath. "I don't remember much, just Steve's face and frustration and pain and Patty's screams. I'll never forget those screams."
Nash pressed him tighter against his chest.
"I passed out and when I woke up I was in the hospital. Some passerby heard the screams and called the police. They all got convicted, except Steve – he got off on a technicality and he was the ringleader. It was so unfair. He walked out of that courthouse like a winner. So unfair. So fucking unfair. I hate him. I hate him. He ruined my life. He ruined everything. And he took Patty away from me."
"Shhhh. It's okay, it's okay."
"No, it's not. I hate him. I hate him. I wish he was dead." There should have been tears running down Trey's cheeks, but except for the wetness in the corners of his eyes, there were none. The time to cry was over –he had promised himself that. No more crying! His hands curled. He had promised himself, no more crying! His breathing accelerated and the grey fog invaded his mind. He held onto Nash as Nash was his lifesaver in the stormy sea. Life wasn't fair. Why was life so unfair?
Nash held him; his hand soothingly moving over Trey's back and shoulders, he patiently waited for Trey to calm down.
#
"Wait for me. Don't go anywhere, okay?" Nash closed the small bag, which he had bought earlier in the day and into which he had just a few seconds ago stuffed the heist's money.
With crossed legs Trey sat on the bed facing Nash, his hands in his lap. From the moment Nash mentioned leaving, something icy had coiled around Trey's heart and squeezed. "Don't go."
Nash straightened and pulled the backpack onto his shoulder.
"It's only nine o'clock and you were supposed to meet at eleven."
Nash ran his fingers though his hair. "I don't know why you are suddenly so worried."
Trey fisted his hands, then relaxed them. "I have a bad feeling."
Nash raised his eyebrows.
"I do." Trey wrinkled his forehead. This day had been on of the happiest of his life-- well, until ten minutes ago. After they had woken up in the morning, Nash had taken him out on a real date, with food, strolls, short pauses to rest their legs and drink coffee, and stolen kisses whenever they found themselves out of the public eye.
Nash had even given him an amazing blowjob in some deserted alley; just the memory of it pushed the blood south and he could feel the desire to feel that wonderful mouth wrapped around his flesh again; he almost choked on it.
"What are you afraid of?"
"What if something happens to you? What if you don't come back?"
"I said that I will be back." Nash leaned forward, over the bed. He touched Trey's face. "And we agreed that you would wait for me and that we will go to see Steve tomorrow so that you can finally get your revenge."
"Yes, we did, but..." Could he really trust Nash? What if Nash changes his mind? He pressed his lips into a thin line.
"Don't doubt me."
"I don't really know you."
"Yes, you do. You know everything that matters. Now, stop whining." Nash pressed a quick kiss on Trey's lips. "You'll give yourself a panic attack. Just take a pill, go to sleep, and I'll be back before you know it." He tousled Trey's brown hair. "And don't worry."
"I can't help it. You are already hurt and that Tony-guy seems dangerous and -"
Nash pressed another kiss on Trey's lips, cutting Trey's complaints short. Then he straightened. "Don't worry."
"I'll try."
Nash nodded then turned.
With a lump in his throat Trey watched Nash disappear thought the door. Then he lay down on the bed and stared at the shadows that the lamps drew on the ceiling. He wrapped his arms around himself.
Just two weeks ago he had laid eyes on Nash for the first time thinking that he was Steve, his nightmare, and now he worried that something might happen to Nash. Not only that, he had feelings for Nash. He couldn't ignore the desire and the need for the protection of Nash's arms and the consolation which Nash could give so easily.
How could a stranger get so quickly under his skin?
Trey rolled on his side and fixed his gaze at the white wooden door, teeth nipping his fingernails. But Nash wasn't a stranger anymore, he was his friend now, and he would come back. He would! Unless he got hurt. He wrinkled his forehead. Even though Nash's wounds had healed nicely, they still made him vulnerable. And wasn't the wound that Trey had inflicted the cause of the second one? What if something like that happened again?
"Pier 23, behind the Purloin Bar." He could go there, be somewhere near enough to see what was happening, but far enough so he wouldn't be in any danger. And if anything happened to Nash, he could help.
He stood up and pulled his backpack from under the bed. He rummaged through it until he touched the plastic surface of the binoculars; he pulled them out. As dangerous as this sounded, it could be quite harmless if he only managed to get there and find a good spot before that guy, Tony, and his company arrived. He looked at his watch. Nine fifteen. And he needed a half-hour by bus to get to the docks. He could make it.
He put on his shoes and took his hoodie and his backpack before he went though the door to the street, toward the bus station.
He had to use two different buses to get to the docks and he spent more than fifteen minutes finding Pier 23 and the half-broken sign that advertised the Purloin Bar, which was a square, low building with tiny windows and crumbling façade.
The silence, cut only by weird noises that sounded suspiciously like a cat in heat, pressed down on Trey. He tightened his hand around the backpack's strap, glad that he had taken a pill on the bus; even though adrenaline pumped through his veins and a fog lingered at the edge of his sanity, he hadn't crossed the line and fallen into a panic, yet.
He noticed the tall building (a small warehouse with offices in the higher floors) that towered perpendicular to the bar and which had a fire stairs up its side. He climbed the stairs, wincing every time he stepped too hard and metal squeaked.
The roof was flat, with chimneys and antennas scattered on it. Trey crossed it and lay down on his belly at the roof's edge. The sign on top of the bar lighted its surrounding enough that Trey could aim the binoculars though the chain-link fence to see the dark alley and distinguish things like the trash container at the end of it, or the boxes piled at the wall in the middle of the narrow path.
Trey's watch showed half past ten when two shadows sneaked into the alley. One hid behind the boxes and the other one in some niche along the wall, but they weren't the only spectators. A metal glint drew Trey's eye toward the bar's roof. He could see a man squatting on the edge of the roof with – with a rifle in his hands.
Trey had to take another pill to calm down the trembling of his hand, then his focus was on the man on the roof again. In the blinking red of the sign he couldn't distinguish the colour of the clothes the man wore, but it could be a police uniform. Yeah, he hoped that it was a police uniform.
Nash's phone was disconnected and he couldn't inform him about the hidden men, but since first one man, then a second and the third a few moments later, came into the alley --one of whom Trey recognized as Nash -- he was too late anyway.
He watched the bags exchange hands and after what seemed like a small talk the men below turned toward the alley's exit; Trey released a sigh of relief. But then the man behind Nash pulled something out of his jacket and pointed it at Nash's back.
The bang cut the silence and with a silent 'no' on his lips, Trey watched Nash fall to the ground.
No. No. This couldn't be happening. A redness glazed Trey's vision and the last thing he saw was men bursting into the alley with the guns in their hands, yelling things that didn't reach his ears – that didn't reach him, because – Nash was dead. Nash was gone!
Darkness enveloped Trey and the binoculars fell on the cement with a thud.