Sinner Like Me by Avril Ashton

Nine

Once Kane fell asleep, Syren crept downstairs for a cool drink. He paused in the living room. Mateo and Tommy were curled around each other, Mateo’s head on Tommy’s chest while the younger man held on to his husband tightly.

Tommy’s lashes fluttered and lifted. “Hey.” He smiled and Syren grinned down at him.

“You okay?” He brushed a lock of hair out of Tommy’s eyes. He and Tommy had gotten really close since the wedding and Syren really liked the mild-mannered younger man. Tommy was exactly who Mateo needed in his life. “Need another blanket or something?”

Tommy shook his head. “Thanks, but we’re good.”

“I see that.” Syren winked. Tommy blushed and Syren walked away chuckling. He didn’t see Angel and Gabe, but he entered the kitchen to find Pablo standing in front of the open fridge, wearing only jeans and boots—jeans that did nothing to hide the crack of his ass.

Syren took a moment to admire all the fine things Pablo’s physique had to offer, before clearing his throat. Pablo turned around, a bottle of water in hand.

He grinned at Syren then gave a low whistle. “Lookie. Did not peg you as a screamer.” He shook his head as his eyes laughed. “Learn something new every day.”

Heat flooded his face, but Syren stood his ground and fired back. “Didn’t peg you as a bottom.”

Pablo stalked toward him with a shrug. “Why would you? The only person who pegs me is my husband.”

Syren rolled his eyes. He grabbed the bottle of water from Pablo and took a sip. Pablo sat on a stool at the island and stared at him.

“What?”

“You’ve got something...” Pablo licked his thumb and reached out, but Syren hurriedly stepped back.

“What the hell?”

“Your husband left a little something behind.” Pablo’s gaze flicked to Syren’s forehead, his lips curving. “Y’all are just two weird freaks behind closed doors, aren’t you?” He reached out to wipe at Syren’s forehead again, but Syren waved him off.

“Leave it.” He wanted Kane’s cum on him. He’d begged for it. Begged for Kane to mark him. A tangible claim. Only when Kane had asked for the same, Syren had shut him down. He leaned against the counter and met Pablo’s gaze. “Can I ask you something and have it stay between the two of us?”

“If you’re gonna ask to watch me and Shane again, I’m gonna have to pass. He’s not a fan of your eyes on us.” Pablo looked genuinely apologetic.

Syren laughed. “No, not that.” He grew serious quickly. “Have you always been a switch?”

“What makes you think I switch?”

He frowned. “You don’t?”

“I do, but you shouldn’t be assuming shit.” Pablo took the water from Syren and swallowed a mouthful. “I hadn’t really taken the catching position, not until Shane. Up ’til then I’d done it once, but it wasn’t anything to write poems about.”

“And this time around?” Syren crossed his arms and waited, but the soft look on Pablo’s face said it all.

“I only submitted to Shane the night before I sent him away.” He eyed Syren. “You remember that time. I wanted to give him something of me, something I’d never really given anyone. I wanted him to claim me.”

“And?”

“And he did.” Pablo leaned forward, gaze searching. “Why all the questions?”

Syren swallowed. “Kane asked me to top.”

Pablo looked lost. “Okay, and?”

Syren looked down. “I said no. Told him I wasn’t interested.” Silence greeted his words and he looked up. Pablo was still staring. “What?”

“Was that the truth?”

Fuck. He hadn’t really examined the words or the reasons why he’d denied Kane’s request. But he’d have to now, especially now with Casimir back in his life. “I don’t know if it’s the truth. I just know I wasn’t prepared for that request and I-I shut him down.”

“What’s the reason you’re scared to make love to him?”

Pablo sounded way too shrink-like for Syren’s peace of mind. “What makes you think I’m scared?”

“Your eyes.”

Syren scoffed at that, but Pablo kept speaking. “Listen, it’s cool if you’re not that type. Some men only catch, some only pitch. It’s cool if that is the reason you said no.” He paused. “But I don’t think that’s you. At least, I don’t think that’s the whole truth.”

Syren kept quiet.

“Making love to my husband, having him reciprocate, there’s nothing better than that,” Pablo said. “I love the connection and the intimacy of it, and for me, I think if we’d kept it one-sided, we’d feel like something was missing. For me. I can beast out on Shane and claim him, which I do, but there’s nothing like having him handle me.” He winked. “I happen to love being handled.” He patted Syren’s shoulder. “Be honest with Kane and with yourself.”

Syren nodded. He understood what his friend said. He just had to let his brain catch up with his body and he had to tell Kane why, explain the reason he’d said no. “Thanks.” He smiled at Pablo. “You’re not so bad at this whole advice thing.”

Pablo grinned. “I’ve been working on it. Can’t be all solemn and closed off when I’m a father.”

“That’s right. How is Heather?” Pablo and Shane were using Shane’s sister-in-law as their surrogate.

“She’s beginning to show.” A light went on in Pablo’s eyes, as if someone had turned on a light switch. “We’re supposed to bring her pickles and sour cream when we get back.” He grimaced. “Don’t understand the weird cravings, but whatever.” He shrugged.

Syren grinned. “Are you scared, being responsible for a brand new life?”

“Shitless.” Pablo shook his head. “But I’m also excited.” He laughed. “Shane hasn’t slept since we found out Heather was pregnant. He’s gonna be a worrier.”

Syren just looked at him with a smile, thinking back to the first time he’d met Juan Pablo Castillo. He remembered all the things the other man had been through and to see where Pablo was now, the place he’d ended up, Syren couldn’t believe it.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m glad to see you and Shane happy and content,” Syren said softly. “You’re getting what you want and it’s what I want for all my friends. For my family.”

Pablo nodded. “Some of us have it easier than others.”

Namely Angel and Gabe. Fate was really kicking those boys’ hearts around like a football. Just before they’d come to Connecticut, Gabe had called to say their surrogate had another miscarriage. The defeatist look in their eyes was hard to watch and Syren wished he could do it, could make a call and make things okay for them.

“Hey.”

They looked up. Shane stood in the doorway.

“You coming to bed?”

“Yep.” Pablo stood and pulled Syren into a hug. “Talk to Kane.”

He nodded, and he didn’t miss the way Shane’s jaw tightened as Syren held Pablo close.

When Pablo pulled away and walked toward Shane, Syren called out. “Shane.”

Shane held his gaze, silent and watchful.

“I’ve never said it and I should have,” Syren said. “I’m sorry. For then. For being stupid and insensitive, and for making you doubt me even now.” Back when Pablo and Shane were still new, Syren had made a move on Pablo, kissing him when he knew Shane would see. Kane had hurt him and he’d chosen to deal with that hurt by visiting it onto someone else. Shane hadn’t deserved any of it. Syren didn’t look at Pablo, but he felt his friend’s surprise. “You’re the best thing that could have happened to him, and I’m grateful to call you both family.”

Shane’s shock registered on his face. He grabbed Pablo’s hand and nodded at Syren. “Forgiven.”

The two men walked away and Syren slumped against the countertop. He had lots of things to think about. And a perverted bastard to neuter.

* * *

Casimir was in Brazil,probably awaiting Monica’s return. It was the perfect place to catch him unawares. Too bad Monica wouldn’t be putting in an appearance. Syren knew all of Casimir’s movements whenever he visited Brazil. He had done his homework the first time around while working for Delatorre, once he’d figured out just who Casimir Zaretsky was. And Casimir was a man of habit. His wife’s family estate—yes, he’d married a former Brazilian supermodel—the whorehouse, the family restaurant. And let’s not forget the apartment he’d set up for his mistress.

He was a man who spread himself thin. He had to have it all, and he didn’t care about anything other than his own needs.

Syren sat outside the whorehouse in a van, all the boys piled in with him as they waited.

He was a businessman and as such, he’d cultivated an overflowing dossier on people who’d be useful to him. Right now he awaited the arrival of Maritza, the proprietor of the whorehouse Casimir frequented. Maritza had been one of Delatorre’s employees, but like most of them, she’d hated the man. Syren had seen that hatred burn in her eyes one day when Delatorre pressed a gun to her mother’s head in order to grab more money from Maritza in exchange for letting her operate in his territory. Syren had stepped in and cooled things down, cultivating a relationship of sorts with the woman. Nice words and a smile went down far easier than threats and a gun.

He’d also saved her son from getting caught up in a drug bust.

He was owed. Time he collected.

The van door opened and Maritza got in, eyes flaring wide when she spotted him.

“Faro.” She pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his face into her large and sweaty bosom, rapid Portuguese falling from her lips. “Where have you been? They said you were dead.”

“Maritza.” He pushed at her. “Let me breathe.”

The men chuckled and he shot his husband a glare. She released him and he straightened his tie. “I’m afraid I’m very much alive, which I’m sure will disappoint a rather large number of people.” He kissed her hand. “Maritza, looking fuckable as always.” He winked and she blushed.

Maritza was pushing sixty with a plump body and a notorious pair of tits. Her waist-length hair was a curly mix of black and silver, her eyes were an intriguing mix of green and hazel. A looker, especially with a set of full lips and sky-high cheekbones. She’d tried her charms on him once or twice, and he’d had to let her down gently. She hadn’t taken it personally.

“Mari, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” He took Kane’s hand, held it. “This is my husband.”

She gasped. “No! Really?” She switched to English with a squeal and launched herself at Kane. “He’s pretty.” She pinched Kane’s cheek and his husband went as red as a tomato. “Ooh.” She pinched his forearm. “Big and strong, too.”

“And my friends.” He introduced her to the rest of the gang then proceeded to the real reason they were there. “Casimir Zaretsky.”

She sat back in her seat. “He’s on his way here.” She looked worried. “You bringing trouble?”

“Don’t I always?” He patted her hand. “I’m here for him, yes, but no trouble for you. Quiet.”

She stared off into space. “He likes Paulo,” she said softly. “He’s twenty, but looks like a baby.”

Casimir’s type.

“Paulo wants nothing to do with him, but he’s scared, and I can’t afford to go against Casimir. Word is, he’ll be taking over Delatorre’s business.”

“Don’t listen to the word on the street.” Syren nodded to Tommy. “He’s going in with you. He’ll let me know when Casimir comes in.” He motioned to the rest of the men. “We’ll come through via the back.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you still haven’t fixed that little hidey-hole?”

She shrugged. “Comes in handy every now and again.” Then she clutched his hand. “What about the after? I can’t have bad publicity.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Kane spoke up.

They’d have to figure that out. Syren hadn’t consulted Dutch on this job. He didn’t want to ask more from the FBI agent than he could afford to, and he didn’t want Dutch to overplay his hand. No one could know about Dutch’s extracurricular activities, or that the man wielded more power and authority than he should.

Maritza nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.” She kissed Syren on the lips. “For luck, eh?” She patted his cheek and exited. Tommy followed her until Mateo called out to him.

“T.”

Tommy poked his head in. “Yeah?”

“Watch yourself, otherwise I’m gon’ have to beat that ass.” As Tommy turned red, Mateo grabbed him by the hair and planted a hard kiss on him. “Go.”

Tommy did.

“Aww.” They all made kissing noises at Mateo as he played with a knife.

“I’ll have to stab someone if you fucks don’t shut it.”

They grew silent. The van was parked in the alley behind the whorehouse. There was no exit, no doors there, so no one should be coming that way. Now they just had to wait until Tommy let them know that Casimir was in the building.

Kane’s cell phone went off and they all looked at him. He looked at it then swore.

“What?” Syren asked.

“Text from Vince. He’s leaving on his vacation next week and wants to have drinks before he does.”

“I’d love to have drinks. Tell him yes.”

Kane cleared his throat. “Pretty sure he means only me. Besides, you don’t drink.”

Syren lifted his head from where he’d been lying on Kane’s shoulder and met his husband’s gaze. “I’d love to have drinks. Now, text him back a yes.” About time Vince was shown his place. Next thing to tick off on his to-do list. This mess had been going on long enough.

Syren’s phone went off next. Message from Tommy. He’s here. Two guns.

Two guns meant Casimir only had two bodyguards with him. As Syren thought. Casimir wouldn’t waste his good men on a whorehouse, one he’d been frequenting for years. Especially when he’d ensured everyone would be afraid of him. Syren took a breath, stuffed the phone into his pocket. “All right men, we’re up.”

Everyone except him pulled on their ski masks. Guns at the ready, they filed out of the vehicle and Syren pried apart the piece of plywood about seven feet high that served to block the chunk of wall that had been missing for years. God bless Maritza for never fixing it.

The rickety stairs leading to the second story were to their immediate right, ensuring no one down on the main floor would see them. Casimir, creature of habit that he was, always used the one room overlooking the street. To see who’d be coming for him, if anyone did. Showed his hubris that he didn’t think to look in the dead-end alley out back.

Sucks to be him.

At the top of the stairs, Pablo, who was in front, stopped. Then he beckoned them forward. Syren caught sight of Casimir’s men or rather... man. Only one was outside the door, playing guard. Where was the other?

They didn’t have time to find out.

Pablo ran up on him, catching the man with his back to them. He knocked him on the back of the head with the butt of the gun. The man buckled and Pablo glanced over his shoulder at them. “We need to keep him out of sight.”

Gabe pushed open a nearby door and poked his head in. “In here.” The two of them dragged the body inside the empty room and stuffed him into the tiny closet.

Syren knocked on the door of the room Casimir was in.

“What?”

He froze at the voice. Fuck. Someone touched him and he shook away the dark blanket of memories that covered him. No time for that. He wasn’t returning to that place. Ever. He stepped aside, Mateo kicked in the door, and they were in.

Casimir and someone who appeared to be his other guard were double-teaming a slender kid on the bed. That wasn’t a grimace of pleasure on the young man’s face, not with two cocks stuffed into his ass and the chokehold Casimir had on him.

Mateo waited a second for the guard to attempt to reach the gun on the floor next to the bed then pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed. The young whore screamed…until Shane clamped a hand over his mouth.

Casimir schooled his shaken expression into something not-quite blank as he stared up at Syren from the bed. “Faro, you came to me.”

He would think that, wouldn’t he?

“Get out of here,” Syren told the young man gently. “Go to Maritza; she’ll take care of you.”

The naked young man was hardly steady on his feet as he looked from the body on the floor to Casimir then back to Syren. “Paulo, is it?”

Paulo nodded.

“Paulo, trust me. He’s out of your life,” Syren said firmly. “As of now, you’re free of him. Now go.” Paulo went, scurrying out the door. He turned back to Casimir. “Get up.”

Casimir did, slowly. “Now, Faro. If you wanted me, all you had to do was say so.” He looked down at the guard. “No need to kill for me.”

Kane made a sound, but Syren shook his head. I got this. With the gun trained on Casimir, he guided him to the table outfitted with two chairs over in the corner of the small, hot room. He prodded Casimir with the gun until he sat and then Syren did the same across from him.

The Russian had regained his equilibrium, and he sat back, a lazy smile on his face as he regarded Syren. “Deadly. That is the sexiest thing.” His voice rumbled over Syren like an earthquake, unearthing so many memories that had long been buried. “There was always more to you, I knew that. Always something that escaped me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.”

“Me. I was what you couldn’t put your finger on.” Syren leaned forward, elbow on the dusty table. “You couldn’t touch me, my body, so you went instead for my heart. Isn’t that right?”

Casimir went for confused. “What? I don’t know what you mean?”

“You concocted this to get to me, didn’t you? Setting Monica Delatorre on my trail, having her steal my daughter with plans to bring her back here. This way I’ll come running, ask you to make Monica give her back, and in turn, what happens? I owe you?”

Casimir steepled his fingers, brown eyes calm as he stared Syren down. “Yes. It wasn’t hard to find you, not with my best investigator on the case. And my money gives me connections inside the FBI.”

Those words were a surprise, one Syren didn’t allow to show on his face. Dutch would have to do some housekeeping ASAP.

“So I come running to you, you save the day, and I’d owe you?”

“Of course.” Casimir tsked. “Nothing is free. I want what I’ve always wanted. You. Your body.” He grinned. “So now we wait for Monica to bring me word on your daughter.”

Syren burst out laughing. The men around him chuckled. “Oh, did I bury the lead here?”

He pulled two photos from his left side pocket, spread them out on the table, and pushed them toward Casimir. “Monica Delatorre. Word is she hung herself.” He shook his head mournfully. “I think it got to be too much, the thought of being homeless. Penniless. Sad stuff.”

Casimir’s smile went away.

“The problem with a fuck-up like you, Cas, is that you never do your dirty work yourself. Same as Delatorre. No fortitude for the blood and the guts. Would you like me to describe what it felt like to choke the life out of Monica?”

Casimir’s nostrils flared and Syren smiled.

“No balls.” He reached up. Took Kane’s hand. “Have you been introduced to my husband?”

Kane pulled off his mask and Syren stood. Kane took the seat and Syren sat down on his lap.

“You made a mistake, thinking I wouldn’t go to hell and back for my family, for our daughter,” Syren said. “Your mistake is my victory. You’re going to die. In a nondescript whorehouse in the middle of Rio, you’re going to die, and when you’re dead, we’ll dump you in the landfill. No one will know you’re dead, no one will miss you,” he whispered. “No one will care.”

Casimir ignored Syren and stared at Kane. “You’re not good enough for him. He needs a real man.”

Kane grinned, head cocked to the side. “You think so, huh?”

“He should be mine.” Casimir lurched forward and Kane punched him in the face. Bone crunched. Blood trickled from Casimir’s nose down to his mouth and dripped off his chin.

“Keep talking,” Kane said calmly, “and I’ll keep punching. Works for me.”

Syren touched Kane’s arm, then said to Casimir, “You’re going to take your own life.” Casimir’s eyes widened and Syren chuckled. “You think I’ll do it, make it easy for you?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the photos. “You do your homework, and I do mine. I’m very thorough.” He placed them right-side up.

Casimir’s mother, father, wife, and the daughter away in boarding school in France.

It was the first time he saw Casimir blink.

Got him. “You’re good, but I’m better,” Syren said. “I wish I could spend time on you, make it hurt like you so love to do to others, but my daughter is waiting for me. If you don’t pull the trigger, I’ll make you watch as I kill every fucking one of these people.” He nodded. “Everyone. Make you watch and feel a scintilla of what I felt when my daughter was taken from me. I will wipe out your fucking lineage and when I’m done, I’ll make my husband slit your throat and fuck me on top of your dying body.”

Casimir choked.

Syren shrugged.

“We’re weird,” Kane said. “We know.”

“And I’ll cum all over your corpse.” Syren winked. “So what’s it gonna be, Cas? You or your family?”

He’d debated for the entire plane ride over if he should let Casimir know who he was. How they’d originally met. Syren was all set to do so, but now, he wouldn’t. That part of him would never be fully healed, but the wound had scabbed over; picking at it would help nothing.

He damn sure wasn’t about to give Casimir any ammunition over him.

Kane put his gun on the table, in the middle.

“I could take this gun,” Casimir said, “and shoot you. I might die, but I’ll be taking at least one of you with me.”

“You could try.” Syren got up from Kane’s lap. “If this is your final answer then I’m afraid we’ll have to move on to round two. First stop is Russia.”

Casimir grabbed the gun. Behind him, Angel moved in close and pressed his gun to the back of Casimir’s head.

“What’s it gonna be, Cas?”

Casimir smiled up at him, the thin scar Syren had given him long ago stretching. “You’re even sexier than I imagined. Like this. If I’d seen this side of you before, I would have battled the devil himself for you.”

“He’s taken.” Kane rose and leaned over, getting in Casimir’s face. “And if you don’t pull that trigger in two seconds, I will.”

Casimir’s teeth flashed. “See you on the other side, Marcos Inácio de Melo.” The gun went off as Syren gasped. Warm liquid splashed onto his cheek and dotted his dark suit.

His knees buckled and strong arms grabbed him. “He knew. He knew who I was.” He turned around, burying his face in Kane’s chest. Kane rubbed his back.

“Shh. He’s gone. He’s gone and we’re free.” Kane kissed his temple.

Syren nodded. He was free. They were free. He wiped his eyes and faced the room.

“Clean up, boys. We promised Maritza.”

* * *

They did indeed dumpCasimir in the local landfill, the bodies of his two guards keeping him company. Syren had been silent all through it. Now they were on a plane back to New York before setting out to pick up Nina and Càtia in Costa Rica.

Kane did his best to make sure Syren knew he was there in case he needed to talk. His husband spent most of the flight on the phone with Dutch, letting him know of the mole he had inside his organization. Through it all, Kane was there. He was ready for some downtime, ready for family time.

His phone went off. He checked the Caller ID. Goddamn. Vince was really pushing it.

Curled up next to him, Syren shifted. “I’m guessing that’s your not-so-secret admirer?”

“It’s Vince, yes.” Kane couldn’t think of anything he’d said or done to make Vince think he had any hope. He’d tried to make sure Vince knew he was in love with his husband, but Vince was purposely ignoring the message. After the shit they’d been through, Kane wasn’t up to dealing with this crap. “You want me to take care of this when we land?”

Syren shrugged. “Up to you, Marshal. I follow where you lead.”

Kane snorted. Yeah right. “Then we’ll do this.” He texted Vince that he’d be in New York within the hour. Vince texted back his hotel and room number.

Yeah. Time to put this to bed.

The rest of the guys followed Mateo and Tommy to their home, and Kane decided he and Syren would get a hotel room for the night. He was too tired for them to make it to Connecticut. In the morning they’d go home, get clothes and other stuff, then pick up the guys before they headed to Costa Rica.

Now, he watched the floors pass as they rode the elevator up to Vince’s room. He’d called his former partner once they’d touched down. It was almost ten at night, but Vince had been enthusiastic, encouraging Kane to come on up.

The elevator stopped and they got off. He held Syren’s hand as they stood in front of the door.

“No violence,” he cautioned. “If there’s a need for it, I’ll handle it.” Because it was his fault. He knocked.

The door jerked open and he blinked. Vince was shirtless, his skin wet as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. He wore jeans, but even though they were zipped, they weren’t buttoned. Kane gulped.

“Well, this is awkward.” Syren sounded way too calm.

Vince gasped, horror and shame in his eyes as he looked from Kane to Syren and back. Syren used the heavy silence to push open the door and step inside.

Kane followed.

Dim lights. Champagne in a bucket.

Syren whirled to face them, a raised eyebrow directed at Vince. “Someone was feeling lucky.”

Vince’s mouth opened and closed. He was pale and Kane wanted to feel sorry for him. He really did.

“Oh, forgive me. We’ve never been properly introduced.” Syren stepped forward and held out his hand, his left hand, where his wedding ring glittered in the light. “Syren Rua-Ashby.” He jerked a thumb toward Kane. “The old ball and chain.”