Headcase - Necessary Evils #4 - Ch. 9&10 (Patreon)

Chapter 9

Zane

Zane woke to the sound of Asa’s voice. He pried his eyes open to find the sun blazing through the window and Asa sitting naked on the bottom corner of the bed, his phone pressed to his ear. He forced his gaze away from perfectly toned back muscles to give a stretch that sent his joints cracking. He was sore everywhere. He felt like a sneaker that had been tossed around in the dryer. Every part of his body ached, including his ass.

“—start local, then expand outward.” Asa listened to whoever was on the other side of the line for a moment. “We already know about Henley. I want to see if August’s and Lucas’s school had a similar ring.”

Zane forced himself to his feet. Asa turned at the movement, his heated gaze dragging over Zane like he had a right, a claim to his body. Zane pointed to Asa’s bathroom, heading for the door before he said or did something they’d both regret. He left the door cracked as he emptied his painfully full bladder, all sense of shyness dissolved after the night they’d had together.

But, honestly, he just wanted to eavesdrop on Asa’s conversation. If he was right, there was a story there. How much of a story, Zane wasn’t sure, but enough to earn him a byline in a decent paper.

Wow. One good fuck and, suddenly, you’re willing to give up your dreams of being a star journalist to beg for scraps over a story people will forget about in a day or two? Weak sauce, bro. Very weak.

Zane ignored his brother’s snide tone. He didn’t know what the fuck he would do about the Mulvaneys.

Liar.

He was lying. He was. This was why his mother thought he was a loser. As much as he wanted a big story, a byline, celebrity status, he craved something more. Attention. Attention he’d never get from his own family. Attention Asa lavished on him without a second thought.

He heard Asa ask, “So, they were happening in other schools? Fuck. Tell August and Lucas I need to meet with them at lunch. And let them know I won’t be alone.”

So, it was true? Those suicides weren’t suicides at all but…accidents? That just seemed too convenient. Five deaths, five year increments—that seemed a strange coincidence. Except, it wasn’t every five years if Gage had been involved. Because he’d died in a different year at a different school.

Zane stood at the door, listening. “Oh, and tell them not to tell Dad about my…friend.” There was a brief pause. “Fucking Jericho. Yes, he’s a friend. I’ve got it handled. Just please keep it to yourself.” Another pause. “Thank you. Hey, have you heard from Avi?”

Asa’s voice was almost childlike, tinged with hope and something else. Zane got it. He couldn’t really put a name on it, but it was probably the same catch in his heart that came when he thought about Gage. Zane would give anything to have a real conversation with him. The real Gage, not his imaginary version.

Zane probably shouldn’t cut Asa slack simply because they both shared a similar attachment to their siblings. But Asa was awkwardly close to his brother, like Zane had been with Gage. Asa might be the only person who understood Zane’s complicated relationship with his own brother. His dead brother. Who he still talked to like he was alive.

Zane turned away from the door, moving to the sink to splash some water on his face. But stopped short when he saw his reflection.

Yikes.

Zane rolled his eyes as said brother’s voice rattled around in his head. Shut up.

If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be, so blame yourself.

Zane ignored the logic. He had no interest in facing his own psychological demons today.

You called me a thrill seeker, but I think you’ve got me beat. You really chained yourself to a mass murderer’s bed. That’s like shackling yourself to a rabid dog. Honestly, you look like you were mauled by a rabid dog.

Gage wasn’t wrong. His eyes were swollen and red ringed. There was an obvious bite mark on his shoulder, a dozen hickies on his neck, and bruises in the shape of Asa’s hands. They were everywhere. His hips, his upper arms, even his throat. He didn’t even remember Asa’s hands being in those places.

He probably cut off your oxygen supply. I hear that can cause memory loss.

Fuck all the way off. Seriously.

Zane turned, looking back at the mirror’s reflection over his shoulder. The bite marks on his neck and shoulder were nothing compared to the numerous deep bite wounds on his back, his ass, and his thighs, or the nail marks along his sides. He racked his brain but couldn’t recall any specific bite or bruise. They all blurred together. Once Zane had made the decision to put those cuffs back on, it had all gone hazy.

“The things I’m going to do to you.”

That was what Asa had rasped in his ear a second before he’d turned Zane’s whole world upside down. But he didn’t remember pain or fear. He remembered a warmth pooling in his belly and spreading throughout his limbs. He remembered Asa’s ragged, panting breaths in his ear, the way he growled and snarled and even purred as he took what he wanted, driving into Zane’s body with a ravenous need that should have scared Zane but hadn’t. It had made him feel wanted, desired…seen.

When he returned to the bedroom, Asa had pulled on a pair of gray joggers that clung to narrow hips, accentuating his perfect physique. Zane swallowed hard as he tried to tear his gaze from the deep vee visible above the waistband.

Asa closed the distance between them, spinning Zane away from him, wrapping his arms around him from behind, burying his face where his neck and shoulder met and inhaling deeply, making Zane’s nipples harden and his cock thicken in a way that was impossible to hide.

Asa made an appreciative sound as he held him tightly, sniffing at him and nipping at his skin.

“Morning…”

Zane had wanted to convey how weird this was, but what came out was a sort of breathless hitched sound that only seemed to spur Asa further, his broad hands sweeping from Zane’s belly to sit low on his hips, creeping dangerously close to Zane’s now very erect dick.

Asa tugged on the shell of Zane’s ear with his teeth. “You look so fucking hot. I’ve never gotten to truly admire my work before. I always made sure my…dates…were gone before morning. But you… Fuck, you look amazing like this. Promise me, you’ll let me take pictures. Just for me.”

Once more, that almost childlike tone was back, like he was asking for another piece of candy instead of asking Zane if he could document the numerous ways he’d defiled him last night.

“You know people are going to see these, right?” Zane cautioned. “I can’t run around in a turtleneck in the dead of summer.”

“Good. I want people to see,” Asa said, as if that were a perfectly normal response.

“You want people to see me looking like I was the victim of a violent crime?” Zane murmured, hating the way his hands closed around Asa’s forearms—not to stop him but to anchor himself as Asa continued to explore him.

“I want people to know you’re mine,” Asa said against his ear.

Zane’s heart skipped in his chest. “Some people might say that is presumptuous and a little insane considering we’ve barely known each other a day.” Zane sucked in a breath. A day. Shit. It was morning. “What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock,” Asa said, still leisurely exploring Zane’s throat.

Blake. Zane slapped at Asa’s hands. “I need my phone. Now.”

Asa frowned at the sudden shift in the conversation. “What? Why?”

Zane gave him an exasperated look. “Because I really did tell my friend to send those coordinates to the cops if he didn’t hear from me by morning.”

Asa sighed, releasing Zane, and then turned back to where he’d abandoned his jeans the night before. Zane wanted to snap his fingers and tell him to pick up the pace. He really didn’t seem to be giving the situation the gravity it deserved.

Asa fished Zane’s phone from his pocket. “Are you saying you don’t want me to get caught now?” he asked, a smirk forming over his full lips.

“I’m saying I want to see this through and figure out if something is truly going on with these deaths or if it’s all just a bizarre coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Asa said.

“Me neither,” Zane muttered, sliding his phone open and punching Blake’s picture with more force than necessary.

Blake answered on the third ring. “‘lo?”

His voice was gruff with sleep. What the fuck? So much for Blake bringing the cavalry. Had Blake even bothered to respond to his text or just rolled his eyes and went to bed last night?

“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know I’m fine,” Zane said.

There was a long pause. “Why wouldn’t you be fine?”

“Um, because I went to check out one of the Mulvaney properties last night. The one I sent you coordinates for?” Zane said hesitantly.

“Huh?” There was the sound of rustling on the other end and then, “Oh. I never saw this. I was chasing down Gizelle Sands and Naz King last night. Got some great shots of them cozied up in the back of some dive bar. Beach almost shit herself with excitement.”

Zane scrunched his nose at Blake’s assessment. “That’s…graphic.”

“Yeah, she tried to get a hold of you, but you were MIA, so she just published them straight to the site. So, what’s up with the Mulvaney property? Find anything good?”

“Nothing. Dead end. But I got a lead on another, possibly bigger story. Can you let Beach know I need to take a few days off? Tell her my mom died or something.”

“She knows you wouldn’t take a day off to mourn that shrew. I’ll tell her you got food poisoning from the press dinner. How’d that go, by the way? You and Thomas Mulvaney best friends forever now?”

Zane looked back at Asa, who looked too goddamn fine pulling a black Gemini hoodie over his head. “Not exactly,” he muttered.

It really, truly shouldn’t be legal for any man to look that good on no sleep, especially not when it looked like Zane had gone ten rounds with Mohammad Ali. When he caught Zane staring, he grinned, sliding his wallet into one pocket and his phone into the other. “Breakfast?” he asked, pointing to his watch.

“Who’s that?” Blake asked.

“Nobody,” Zane said, a little too quickly to be convincing, earning a smug smile from Asa and an infuriating chuckle from Blake.

“Did you get laid last night? Are you calling in sick to work because of a hookup? Did you fuck Thomas Mulvaney? That dude’s, like…what? Twice your age?”

Zane shook his head. “No, I didn’t hook up with Thomas Mulvaney.” Though, Zane supposed it had never been truly off the table. Last night, he’d been willing to do almost anything for a story.

Almost? You’re playing chew toy to a serial killer. Where the hell is this imaginary line of yours, bro?

“No, I’m not calling out sick for a hookup.”

“But you did get laid last night,” Blake said.

“I’m hanging up now,” Zane warned.

Blake chuckled again. “Okay, man. I see you. Get som—”

Zane hung up on him before he could finish his sentence. When he looked back at Asa, he was watching him with an expression Zane couldn’t quite place. Like he was…studying him. “Don’t you have work, too?” Zane asked, trying to fill the sudden silence.

Asa waved a hand. “I’m the boss. I make my own hours. I had my secretary clear my schedule. We’re good.” Asa fished a t-shirt out of his drawer. “Arms up.”

Zane complied without thought, allowing Asa to pull the shirt over his head. “Don’t you design skyscrapers worth millions of dollars?”

Asa grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and went to his knees before Zane. “Foot.” Zane lifted his leg, sliding it through the hole, repeating the process on the other side, trying not to think about Asa’s face now at eye level with his crotch.

Asa tugged the pants upwards. “No, I design billion dollar skyscrapers. And I do it so well, people are willing to tolerate my somewhat unprofessional behavior because I make buildings that stand out against the backdrop of our cities.” Asa slid the fabric slowly over Zane’s all too obvious erection.

Zane had thought that would be the end of it, but Asa didn’t stand; he pushed Zane’s borrowed shirt up, nosing along each inch of skin as it was revealed, making goosebumps erupt along Zane’s skin as he licked a trail from the waistband to just beneath his belly button. These pants weren’t loose enough for this.

Asa looked up at Zane from his knees. “Fuck. I wish we could just stay here all day. I like…playing with you.”

Zane had meant to push Asa away, but his hands tangled in his hair instead. “I don’t know if I can handle another session so soon.”

“Your dick says you’re more capable than you know,” Asa teased, leaning forward to bury his face against said dick. Zane squirmed at Asa’s hot breath on him through the thin material.

Asa rocketed to his feet. “Fuck. Okay. We’ve gotta get out of here. You look too good in my clothes.”

Zane looked down at himself as he allowed Asa to snag his hand and pull him towards the staircase. He looked ridiculous, like a kid playing dress up in his older brother’s closet. “Can we stop at my place so I can change into some real clothes? Please?” he tacked on at the end, almost like an afterthought.

Asa stopped at the top of the stairs, studying Zane with another enigmatic look. “Yeah, sure.”

Once they were on the road again, speeding towards Zane’s apartment, he said, “I just can’t picture you as an architect? Like, why would somebody like you want to design skyscrapers? It seems a strange career for a person whose hobby is murder.”

Zane glanced over at him. “It’s not a hobby, it’s more like a calling. As for the architecture, I was great at math and drawing. Avi was, too. He went into fashion design because he’s good at it and loves the attention and celebrity of it. I went into architecture for somewhat similar reasons.”

“Certainly not for the fame?” Were there famous architects other than Frank Lloyd Wright and I. M. Pei?

Asa gave him a look that sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, no. I don’t care about fame. My last name gives me more than enough notoriety for that.”

“So, why do it?” Zane asked.

“There’s something about knowing that I hold thousands of lives in my hands every single day and I choose to let them live.”

“What?” Zane said, heart contracting in his chest.

Asa shrugged. “Think about it. One misplaced beam, one bolt just slightly off, one sub par truss or anchor and…boom. It all comes down.” At Zane’s wide-eyed look, he said, “I’ve designed three skyscrapers in my career to date. That’s roughly—what?—ten thousand people who go to work everyday and live, just because I allowed them to.”

Zane blinked at him. “You sound like a—”

“Psychopath?” Asa countered with a wink.

“I was going to say megalomaniac,” Zane managed. “You probably shouldn’t tell people that you became an architect because you wanted to play God by turning skyscrapers into your own personal ant farm and that you’re just one bad day away from shaking it like an Etch-A-Sketch.”

Asa smiled. “I keep my thinking thoughts to myself.”

“Your what?”

“Noah says, ‘Those are thinking thoughts, not speaking thoughts.’ But you asked why I do what I do, and I told you I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Asa looked so proud of himself for not lying about secretly being a nihilistic anarchist that Zane almost felt guilty for saying, “You’re batshit crazy.”

“Has anything you’ve learned about me in the last twelve hours led you to think I wasn’t? But you like my crazy. When I gave you the chance to leave last night, you locked your wrists in handcuffs and offered yourself up to me like some kind of virgin sacrifice. And I took it, took you, and would have done far more to you if you hadn’t been so tired. But you consented. So, which one of us is crazier, Lois?”

“You kill people,” Zane said, hating how pissy he sounded.

“And you fucked the guy who kills people, knowing I kill people, all for a story. I was born a psychopath. But you, you’re an opportunist. I’m not complaining. I was mad about it last night, but today is a new day and in the cold light of day, I get it.”

Then maybe he’d be kind enough to explain it to Zane. “Get what?”

“That this is a high for you. Not just the terrifying sex we’ve had—twice—but chasing a story, not knowing what comes next, being in the presence of a killer, knowing the effect you have on me. You’re so high off the adrenaline I can practically smell it on you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure, it is, Lois. But that’s why this little partnership of ours works. I can be myself around you and you can be yourself around me. There’s something kind of freeing about knowing each other’s deepest, darkest secrets and not wanting to let them go.”

Was that what was happening? Zane picked up his phone, covertly typing in: How long before Stockholm syndrome sets in? He grimaced when he noted the statistics weren’t on his side. Less than five percent of hostages developed the phenomenon and not in just twelve hours. Which meant Asa was right. Zane was enjoying this, enjoying him, and though he wanted to be terrified, he wasn’t.

“Would you kill me if you had to?” Zane asked casually. Some part of him hoped the answer would scare the common sense back into him.

Asa took his eyes off the road to look at him for a beat. “That seems like a loaded question, Lois. I feel like if I say no then the power dynamic of this little relationship is going to splinter.”

“You said you’d be honest.”

Asa sighed. “I did say that, true. But I meant in more of a you ask questions and I say yes or no kind of way.”

Zane lips twitched in an aborted smile. “Would you kill me if you had to? Yes or no.”

Asa stayed quiet for so long Zane started wondering if he’d survive the tuck and roll required to leap from the SUV if he brandished a weapon. “No, Lois. I don’t think I could kill you. Luckily, we’ll likely never know. Because my father would never kill an innocent man, and whether you believe it or not, neither would I.”

That was the thing nagging at Zane. Was he really innocent? He was unscrupulous when it came to chasing a story. He hadn’t reveled in the violent deaths of others, but he’d done his best to find a way to use those deaths to his benefit. He’d never wept over any of the victims of the cases on his crime blog. He’d never really cried over anybody. Not even his brother. The only time Zane had ever really cried was for himself, last night, when Asa was breeding him. Something Zane had consented to. With a stranger. For a story.

Maybe that made him a narcissist instead of an opportunist, but either way…he wasn’t innocent. Which meant he wasn’t truly safe from Thomas Mulvany.

Chapter 10

Asa

Asa was strangely relieved to see Zane eat—and keep down—a full breakfast at the small cafe they visited before heading to Zane’s. But as he continued to nurse one cup of coffee for twenty minutes, Asa began to suspect Zane had ulterior motives for lagging behind at the restaurant. Was Zane trying to plot his escape? What was he suddenly so worried about? It was his idea to stop there so he could change.

When they pulled up outside a dilapidated building, Zane tried to convince Asa to wait in the car. Was he embarrassed of where he lived? Was that why he was so hesitant? Either way, staying behind wasn’t possible for a million different reasons, most of which could be summed up in one small sentence. Asa didn’t want to.

Seemingly resigned, Zane led him through the double doors with its Astro-turf colored carpet to a dingy white door, leading him up four flights of stairs to his apartment. Asa propped his arm on the door frame, leaning over Zane as he used the key to let himself inside.

Asa hadn’t expected Zane to live in a house as grand as his, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for what he saw. From the doorway, he could see the whole thing. The small kitchen, dining room, and family room combo could easily fit in one of Asa’s bathrooms. One of his smaller bathrooms.

Jesus.

Despite its modest size, the apartment was clean, no dishes congealing in the sink, no dirt or dust, which was more than he could say for his and Avi’s apartment in the city. His brother was hardly a neat freak. Luckily, they had a housekeeper who came daily.

But there was a large amount of clutter starting in what should have been the dining area but was actually Zane’s version of a home office. There were two desks set up back to back, as if somebody other than just Zane worked there. Who else came and worked there with Zane? Who else knew of Asa’s family? One wall held a dossier on his family that would have impressed the CIA, including a map of the city filled with pins Asa recognized as drop sights.

Beside one of the desks sat a pile of neatly stacked bound pages. Upon closer inspection, Asa saw they were manuscripts. Did Zane have secret aspirations beyond journalism? Did he want to write books? Fiction? True crime? Asa tucked that in his back pocket for later. It would be good to have leverage if Zane decided a byline was more important than Asa’s attention.

While Asa moved around the apartment, he kept his ears trained on Zane and his movements around the space. He was currently in his room, rummaging through the drawers, likely looking for clothes. Or a weapon to brandish. He was giving Zane a lot of leeway. Avi would say too much leeway. That he was taking his life in his hands by not watching what Zane did in the other room. Maybe there was a landline. Maybe there was a gun. Neither of those thoughts swayed Asa away from his exploration.

There was a well-worn sofa in the small living room and a reasonably sized television. On the walls were a number of black and white photos, mostly landscapes, and a few of people on the street. They were all exceptional, but Asa had never heard of the photographer, Blake Marshall, though maybe one day he would.

On a shelf above the small TV were two family photos. One was of Zane and a similar looking man, standing beside two older people, presumably their parents. That must have been the brother. He had the same curly hair and honey eyes, but he was broader, sturdier, taller, perhaps more commercially attractive, but in a department store underwear model kind of way. Attractive but not runway worthy, not interesting in any way.

Not like Zane. Talent scouts would go crazy for Zane’s insane bone structure and those crazy curls and that almost bashful smile he’d made when he’d so easily seduced Asa last night. Yeah, agents would line up to represent Zane.

Still, the man in the photo had kind eyes and a huge smile, and he hugged Zane close like he was the most important thing in his world. The same couldn’t be said for the parents. Asa was no body language expert but it was clear the boys were attempting to distance themselves from the stern-looking people in the photograph.

Asa picked up the second picture, smiling at the insanely goofy grin on Zane’s face as he sat perched on his brother’s back like he’d snuck up on him just as the photo was taken. When was the last time Zane had smiled like that?

“That’s Gage.”

Asa turned to see Zane in a pair of black jeans and a hot pink t-shirt that shouldn’t have worked on anybody but, somehow, looked killer on him. He’d thrown a gray beanie cap over his mop of curls and no longer wore his glasses. Asa did his best to tamp down his disappointment. Contacts were obviously more practical. Still, Zane looked so…innocent in those glasses.

Asa turned back to the picture, setting it down. “He looks…nice.”

Zane wandered closer and picked the picture up, his shoulder’s sagging as he looked down at their smiling faces. “He was. Most of the time. Sometimes, he could be a real dickhead.”

Asa laughed. He could say the same of Avi.

Asa nodded towards the family photo. “Those are your parents?”

Zane grimaced, then nodded. “Bev and Irv Scott.”

Asa knew everything he needed to know about them simply by the way Zane spoke their names. “They seem…intense.”

“Bev is a lot. My father is just…whatever Bev wants him to be. Usually, that’s silent.”

Oof. “So, you don’t get along?”

Zane cut his gaze to him, setting the picture back into place. “You really want me to get into my fucked up family dynamics?”

Asa shrugged, reaching out to snag one springy curl, pulling it straight just to watch it bounce into place. “I mean, you already know mine. How much worse can yours be?”

“I guess it depends on the yardstick you’re using to measure it. I wasn’t raised by a family of murderers, but I was raised to be invisible. Gage had the spotlight from the moment he was born. My mom had tried to get pregnant with him for five years. She was almost forty. He was her miracle.”

“And you?” Asa asked, adjusting Zane’s cap for no other reason than to have another excuse to touch him.

“I was the accident, the drunken mistake who destroyed my mom’s body and almost killed her when she hemorrhaged at thirty weeks. I ruined her life. Just ask her.”

There it was. The seven month age difference. “I can’t imagine you being invisible in any way.”

Zane gave a humorless laugh. “No? I can give you Bev’s number. She has an alphabetized list of all the ways I’ve disappointed her. The number one reason being that I wasn’t the one who died so Gage could live. Gage was going to be somebody, you see. I was just the screw up. Correction. I still am the screw up.”

Asa could feel his teeth clenching as Zane spoke. He really believed that about himself.  Asa’s gaze cut back to the plump woman with her dyed blonde hair and sneer of a smile, contemplating giving Zane her eyes as a birthday present. If she couldn’t see how perfect Zane was, maybe she didn’t deserve to see at all.

“You can’t kill my mother,” Zane said, alarm creeping into his voice as he looked at Asa’s mutinous expression. “She’s the literal worst, but she makes her own misery. I promise. I don’t care about her anymore.”

It was a total lie and they both knew it. Asa didn’t call him out on it, though. “I don’t think anybody’s ever shown her the real meaning of misery before,” Asa said, unable to tear his gaze away from the woman who made Zane feel so badly about himself.

“She lost her son—the only one she cared about. That’s enough pain for one person.”

Asa shook his head. “You lost your brother. The only person who seemed to care about you. Who took care of you?”

Zane flushed, blinking rapidly. “I did. I’m fine. It’s fine. I thought for sure you’d be more pissed off about my Mulvaney murder board than you are about my shitty parents.”

Was that why Zane had been trying to keep him in the car? Over the stupid board? Asa huffed out a breath through his nose. “I don’t know why you thought I would care? I already know you’re investigating my family. I didn’t know your parents were garbage.”

A slow smile spread across Zane’s face. “Garbage is a little strong.”

“Do they know you live…here? Like this?”

Zane snickered. “Like what? Like a poor person? No. My family thinks I’ve just scored my first job as a big, fancy reporter, hence my rush to get as much dirt as I could on your family. If I don’t come up with some kind of byline soon, my mom won’t have anything to tell her fancy friends.”

It gave Asa a strangely warm feeling in his chest that Zane was being so casually honest with him. It felt…intimate somehow. Asa reached out and gripped Zane’s t-shirt in his fist, pulling him closer until he was near enough for Asa to dip his head, brushing their lips together in a soft kiss before letting him go again.

Zane’s eyes were all pupil, his lips slightly parted. “What was that for?”

Asa shrugged, not really knowing why he’d done it. “I don’t know. I just wanted to kiss you.”

“You always do whatever you want, don’t you?” Zane said, voice full of awe.

“Don’t you?” Asa asked.

Zane’s gaze strayed to the stack of manuscripts, his lips pulling down at the corners. “No, not really.”

“Are those all books you’ve written?”

Zane made a noise of disgust. “Books I’ve started. I always talk myself out of finishing them.” Asa marched across the room, picking up the first book on the stack. Zane scrambled to catch up, yanking the manuscript from his hand before he could open it. “What are you doing?”

Asa frowned. “What do you mean? I want to read it.”

Zane looked scandalized, like Asa had asked to read his diary or look through his underwear drawer. Did Zane keep a diary? Was he wearing underwear? Asa’s cock hardened, and he had to tamp down the thought of bending him over the desk and checking for himself.

Zane clutched the manuscript to his desk. “No way. Never. Nobody is ever going to read those. I’m going to burn them someday. Can we just go? Isn’t your brother expecting us?”

Asa glanced at his watch. “Yeah. But we’re going to revisit this conversation again later. Let’s go.”

The look of relief that washed over Zane made Asa’s stomach clench. Zane looked different standing in his apartment. The ballsy, confident badass he’d pretended to be was long gone. In its place was a boy with sad eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Asa really did want to kill whoever made Zane feel like that.

“Who are you going to tell them I am?” Zane asked as the door closed behind them.

Asa grimaced. “I don’t know. The way my family gossips, Jericho probably already told Atticus, who told August, who told Lucas, who told Noah, who told anybody who would listen.”

Zane snickered. “Gossipy killers.”

Asa threw his arm around Zane’s narrow shoulders. “You have no idea.”

Asa had expected Zane to push him away…but he didn’t. His arm slid around Asa’s waist, his head tucking in close to Asa’s shoulder as they walked down the hall to the stairs. Once more, that warmth pooled inside him, lower this time.

Shit. It was already happening. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy. First Adam, then August, then Atticus, and now him… He was growing comfortable with the thought of having a person of his own. Someone other than Avi.

But this someone might still be out to destroy his family. Zane could just be luring Asa into some false sense of security with his sad family history. Was he just a good actor? Asa didn’t think so, but some part of him whispered it was his dick who didn’t think so and his brain that wasn’t thinking at all.

Asa knew it didn’t matter either way. He wasn’t getting rid of Zane, and like Zane said, Asa always did whatever he wanted.

###

Asa breezed by Cricket’s desk with a half-wave, dragging Zane along behind him, ignoring the look of confusion on August’s assistant’s face.  Could they still call her that? She was one of a growing list of people who knew who they really were, and she was August and Lucas’s surrogate. Didn’t that sort of make her family?

Asa shook the thought away as he pushed August’s office door open to find his brother and Lucas sharing August’s office chair. He shuttled Zane in ahead of him, closing the door behind them and pushing him deeper into the room. Zane stopped short at the two men, causing Asa to crash into him, his arm coming around his waist to keep him on his feet.

One look at August’s frigid expression and Asa knew they knew who Zane really was. Which was going to make this a thousand times more confrontational. Fucking gossipy killers indeed. Before Asa could get a word out, Lucas’s gaze narrowed in on the obvious bruises and marks on Zane’s neck and forearms.

“Jesus, Asa. Did you do that to him?” he asked.

Asa crossed his arms over his chest. “What? He likes it. Tell them.”

Zane flushed crimson, closing his eyes for a long moment before saying, “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Asa echoed, tone testy. “That wasn’t what you said last night.”

“Oh, my God. It was consensual, okay?” Zane muttered.

Asa smirked, then said, “Zane, this is my brother, August, and his husband—”

“The psychic,” Zane murmured seemingly without thought.

“Most people just call me Lucas,” he said, his amusement clear.

Zane dipped his head. “Sorry. Nice to meet you.”

“Is it?” August asked. “I hear you’re a reporter.” His gaze flicked to Asa. “A reporter who knows our secret. What do you plan on doing with that knowledge?”

Asa sighed. He’d been expecting this. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. Time to see how Zane handled himself under pressure.

Asa’s brows shot up as Zane sat in a seat across from the two other men, leaning forward until his elbows were on his knees. “I have no idea what I plan on doing with that knowledge. But your husband was an FBI agent when you met, no? Did he know your secret before you started seeing each other?”

Lucas grinned. “Yes. He broke into my house, told me he was Batman, and then stabbed himself.”

Zane blinked at Lucas as he attempted to process August’s bizarre courting rituals. “A reporter like me couldn’t be more dangerous than an actual federal agent, right?”

August frowned like somebody had just beat him in a chess match, then turned to his husband, poking him in the ribs. “Why would you tell him that?”

Lucas batted his hand away. “A: because it’s true. And B: because he’s right. Just because he’s a reporter doesn’t mean he’s out to screw the family.” He then looked Zane directly in the eye. “I highly encourage you to not screw our family.”

Asa’s gaze slid to Zane, watching his cheeks flush as his posture straightened. Feeling a little guilty, Lois? “We need to ask you some questions.”

“So Calliope said. About what, exactly?” August asked, his gaze still on Zane.

“Do you know anything about a string of suicides that occurred on campus? Would have been around four years ago?” Zane asked, then captured his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it until Asa had to fight the urge to free it.

August shrugged. “I may have vaguely heard about that, but I’m not one for gossip.”

Lucas snorted. “What he means is, he rarely knows what day it is, much less what the rest of the world is up to. Half the time, he forgets to eat.”

“And you weren’t here back then, right?” Zane asked Lucas.

“Afraid not.”

“So, you haven’t heard anything about a game some of the kids might have been playing on campus back then?”

“Game?” August echoed.

Before Zane could answer, the door burst open, and Cricket was standing there in her black polka-dot romper and cherry red heels. “I know this one,” she shouted.

August sighed. “How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop on our private conversations?”

She gave him a look, waving a hand. “None. You told me to stop listening when you and Lucas were boning in your office. There’s no boning happening here. Besides, don’t you want to know what I know about those ‘suicides’?” she air-quoted. Then looked hard at Zane’s neck then gave Asa a knowing smirk. “Nice.”

August sighed heavily, but Lucas said, “What do you know, Cricket?”

“It’s part of some super secret game some of the students were invited to play on campus.”

Zane’s gaze snapped to Asa’s, his eyes going wide. “Super secret game?”

“Have you ever heard of the Blue Whale challenge?” Cricket asked.

Asa frowned, relieved to see August and Lucas looking equally confused. “Blue Whale?”

“I know it,” Zane said, looking pale. “It’s an online game that originated in Russia. They claim almost two hundred kids have died worldwide playing this game.”

“But what is it?” Asa asked. “What’s the game…or challenge? What do they have to do?”

Cricket jumped in before Zane could answer. “Fifty tasks over fifty days overseen by a ‘curator,’ who monitors to make sure the player is completing the tasks.”

“How do you know all this?” Asa asked.

Cricket walked to the sofa, slipping off her shoes and sitting down, tucking her feet beneath her. “I didn’t know anything about it until the deaths at Henley last month. Then the staff here started talking. It’s become, like, a sort of urban legend that people in our city are playing and losing a game very much like the Blue Whale challenge.”

“What kind of tasks?” August asked.

“It’s hard to say. In the Blue Whale Challenge, the tasks are pre-set with the curator overseeing the player. Who knows if it’s the same thing here,” Cricket said with a gentle shoulder shrug.

“What kind of tasks are on the Blue Whale challenge?” Lucas asked Cricket. “If you know.”

“I researched it on Reddit a couple of weeks ago,” she said with a heavy sigh. “The first challenges are always easy. Watch a video the curator shows you. Draw a picture and show it to the curator. But the deeper into the game you get, the more insane the challenges. They say people are asked to carve letters into their skin, listen to certain music, meet other ‘whales,’ but it all leads to the same place. Jumping off a building.”

“Jesus,” Lucas muttered.

“Okay, but if the tasks are always the same and the last task is to jump off a building, then they’re not playing the Blue Whale Challenge here on campus, right?” Zane asked. “Because the suicides that occurred here and at Henley, the victims hanged themselves. So, if this is a game, it’s not this Russian challenge. This is something else entirely.”

Asa looked to August, who nodded, punching two buttons on his phone. The room filled with sounds of a phone ringing as August put it on speaker. “What’s up, baby daddy? Or daddy of babies? How are the littles? Give them a squish for me.”

August sighed. “Calliope, please stop calling me that.”

“Don’t,” Lucas cut in. “Don’t ever stop calling him that. The girls are good. I’ll give them all the squishes. But we need your help first.”

“What’s up, Buttercup?” she chirped.

“Remember what I asked you about this morning? The string of suicides?” Asa asked. “We think it might be tied to a game, kind of like the Blue Whale challenge. Do you know how we could find out if any of those who died were playing the game?”

There was a long pause. When Calliope spoke again, all the joy had left her voice. “I would need to see the computers, check their browser history. And even then, I might not know for sure. These kinds of people are good at hiding their tracks.”

“How do we get access to one of their computers?” Zane asked, looking back at Asa.

“I don’t suppose you still have your brother’s?” Asa asked.

“Your brother’s?” Lucas echoed.

“My brother was a student here when the deaths happened four years ago. My brother was one of them,” Zane managed. “I’m sure my mother has my brother’s laptop enshrined somewhere, but she’ll never give me access. I’d have a better chance of stealing the Declaration of Independence.”

Fuck. He’d suspected as much. “Calliope, can you patch in Jericho?”

Jericho wasn’t going to like this favor, but at this point, he owed Asa for ratting him out.

There was a thirty second delay, and then Jericho’s voice came over the speaker. “What’s up?” Jericho said.

Before Asa could speak, Calliope said, “You’re on speaker with August, Lucas, Cricket, Asa, and Zane.” Quickly tacking on, “And me…obvi.”

There was a moment of hesitation before he said, “Um, okay. What can I do for all of you?”

“I need a favor,” Asa said.

“Another favor?” Jericho barked.

Asa huffed out a breath. “Yeah, one you’ll actually follow through on and not rat me out over. Besides, that body didn’t dismember itself.”

Jericho scoffed. “Man, you said don’t tell your dad. I didn’t. You’re welcome.”

“Can you boys fight about this later?” Calliope asked.

“Yeah, whatever,” Asa muttered. “Do you still have an in with the police? Like that ex-boyfriend of yours?”

Another snort of derision. “Gabe works at Best Buy now,” Jericho reminded him. “And Gabe’s former colleagues were all his buddies, so I don’t think I can ask for their help either.”

“Shit,” Asa grumbled, looking at Lucas. “What about you? Still have any pull with your Fed friends?”

“No, pretty sure that ship sailed when I accused a fellow agent of being a mass murderer and then got locked up for thirty days.”

“Um, I know someone,” Cricket said, waving her hand with an irritated look on her face. “Why do none of you ever ask me?”

All eyes swung to Cricket as Jericho’s voice popped up on the line. “There you go. I gotta get back to work.” Then he was gone again.

“Who do you know, Cricket?” Lucas asked.

Cricket smoothed a hand over her black skirt with the white polka-dots. “My cousin, Jagger. He’s a detective. Violent crimes.”

“You have a cousin named Jagger?” Lucas asked.

Asa’s gaze jerked to August. “You had a baby with a girl whose cousin is a homicide detective and you’re giving me shit for dating a reporter?” he asked, exasperated.

“Dating?” Lucas said, a smirk forming. “Are you two dating? I thought he was just a hookup. That’s what you told Jericho.”

“Holy shit. Does Avi know you have a boyfriend?” Cricket asked, clapping her hands together like an excited child.

Zane was looking at Asa like he was insane. He hadn’t meant to say dating. It had just slipped out. Asa could take it back, but he didn’t want to. Dating seemed such an innocuous word for what they were doing. They weren’t dating. Zane was his. He’d marked him. Claimed him. His obsessive need for Zane was so much more than a word as casual as that.

“Can you ask your cousin if any of the computers were confiscated in these most recent suicides?” Zane asked quietly. “They sometimes take them to look for a note.”

“Yeah, I can ask. But what are we looking for, exactly?” Cricket asked.

Zane shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything. Something out of the ordinary.”

Cricket frowned. “But wouldn’t the cops have noticed something?”

“Only if they knew what to look for,” Calliope said. “I know what to look for. Cricket, if your cousin can get me access to one of the victims’ computers, I can look for any hidden programs and websites he visited. In the meantime, I’m going to take a deep dive into the darknet abyss and see what I can find on a US version of the Blue Whale challenge.”

“Cricket, can you also see what information you might be able to get from the staff? Any and all gossip might be helpful,” Asa said.

Cricket stood and nodded. “Always happy to gossip for the Mulvaneys.”

Once she was gone, Asa grabbed Zane by the arm, helping him to his feet. “Calliope, can you get me a list of names of all the victims and expand the search to look for more victims.”

“Expand the search how far?” Calliope asked.

Asa grimaced, giving Zane’s arm a squeeze. “Nationally. Check the whole fucking country.”

“Got it.” Then Calliope was gone as well.

“You can’t tell Dad about Zane,” Asa said to August, pulling Zane closer.

“I’m not going to tell Dad about Zane,” August said. Asa’s shoulders sagged in relief. “You are.”

“What?”

“You’re going to tell Dad about your boyfriend. Today. There are no secrets in this family, remember?”

He stared down his brother for a full minute. August never wavered. “Fine. But only after we finish today’s investigations.”

August smirked. “Clock’s ticking, Brother.”