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"You screwed up again!" Elizabeth shouted, beside herself with rage. "What am I paying you idiots for? You're supposed to be fuckin' professionals. The man is supposed to be rotting in his grave, but noooo . . . you assholes seem to be unable to do what you were contracted to do. Incompetent sons of bitches, every one of you! "No, I will not watch my mouth, and no, I certainly will not be frightened by you!" She threw the telephone handset, only to be hit in the leg as the coiled cord stretched to its limit, then rebounded. "Damn every man to hell!" she screamed. When someone in the adjoining apartment pounded on the wall, she screamed even louder. "And you, too!" She kicked one of the spindly dining room chairs, sending it flying across the littered room; then cursed the chair for causing her bare foot to hurt. 'I'm gonna have'ta find my shoe,' she thought to herself, as she scanned the dismal apartment and skirted the growing puddle of water on the floor. It had been raining steadily for two days, the roof was leaking, and the fact that she hadn't left the apartment because she was missing a shoe, hadn't improved her mood. If she'd been honest with herself, she would have admitted she hadn't left, not because of a missing shoe, but because she was afraid of the men following her, and when she might find another threatening note. "This is just a temporary inconvenience," she said aloud. 'When Franklin and the boys are taken care of, I'll be back to my old self. I can probably even contest the bastard's will, and get the house and his bank accounts back. After all, the money is mine. Why shouldn't I have it? My attorney, Gustav Winton, will help me get it all back. He'll see that those men are taken off my back, too. Good man, Gustav. Pay him enough and he'll do anything, no matter how distasteful. 'Even he though hadn't been able to give her proof that he'd killed her sons, as she'd paid him to do.' Her momentary frown was replaced by a sly grin. A delicious thrill ran through her body, as she imagined how her sons must be cowering in a dark and dank apartment someplace, wondering when, and . . . how, she was going to strike. 'It's only a matter of time, my dears, before I find you. And, when I do, you'll wish you'd never been born.' * * * "What!?" Gustav abruptly stood, upending his desk chair. Bryant Mitchell, Gustav Winton's associate, and partner in crime, flinched. No matter how often he'd witnessed his boss' legendary anger, he had never become accustomed to it. 'It'd be just like the bastard to pull out a gun and shoot me. Fuck, I'm not responsible for the news about Rolf's failure to do as he was ordered; I'm only the unlucky guy who has to deliver the news.' "I should never have expected that Rolf could do as he was told," Gustav seethed, as he paced to one end of the office then swung about, pinning Attorney Mitchell with a baleful glare. "I bet, even if he had Pruitt in his sights, he wouldn't have pulled the trigger until he'd spilled his guts. "Oh, I'm sorry that I'm going to have to kill you . . . Franklin," Gustav said, in a singsong voice, imitating Rolf's accent. "But I'm just a poor backwoods . . . hick . . . who never could do as he was told! "The only consolation I have is that we've strung him along, for years, believing he was giving us information which would ruin Pruitt. Hell! Nothing he told us ever amounted to anything. The only reason we held on to him was in the off-chance he might be useful. Now . . . when he had his chance . . . he screwed up!" The older man threw his cell phone across the room, narrowly missing Attorney Mitchell. "Kill him," Gustav added, almost conversationally, as he smoothed his hair back into place. "I want him dead, before he can do any more damage. He knows too much. Since Franklin didn't send the bastard to meet his maker, it looks like it's up to us." He righted his overturned chair and flopped down, sparing Bryant Mitchell a cursory glance, and made a shooing gesture to leave the office. "See to it." * * * "Bailey," Lucas asked. "How're Riley and Nathan doing . . . really? They've been through so many shocks recently. First, their mother's dead, then she isn't, then she's out t'kill 'em. Now, they're stuck here, in Riverton, with no word about how their father is doing. Nathan seems to believe that, sooner or later, their mother, or someone she hired, will show up in Riverton, to kill him and his brother." "Riley seems to be holding together pretty well. It's Nathan I'm worried about." Bailey sighed. "Yeah, me, too. At times, the guy seems so open; then, only minutes later, he retreats into himself and jumps at every noise. He's a sweetheart . . . a lot like Owen. He takes things very seriously, doing his best to hide his feelings and emotions from everyone, including himself. "So . . . now that we've talked about the Pruitt boys, how's Owen? I'm afraid for him, Lucas. He still hasn't been able to rid himself of the specter of his father, has he? The unlamented man is dead. Owen needs to let go!" Lucas softly snorted, shaking his head, sadly. "Owen's afraid . . . deathly afraid . . . that he's going to become his father. He's driving himself crazy, looking for something, anything, which will prove that he's going insane. He always points out that the old man didn't start out bad; otherwise, why would Bea have married him. He practically jumps at shadows, and his dreams, as well as Sam's and mine, are punctuated with nightmares." As he spoke, his voice rose. "It's probably true that the guy didn't start out bad, but just because the old man went bonkers and started beating up on everyone doesn't mean Owen will follow the same path!" Bailey reached across the table and rested a comforting hand on top of his friend's. "Easy, easy. I know you and Sam must be worried, but there isn't anything you or he can do, other than to provide all the emotional support possible. Responsibility for an ultimate resolution rests with Owen. Not even Jonah can help." Lucas reluctantly nodded, briefly resting a hand on top of Bailey's, silently thanking him for his support. "You say there're nightmares?" Bailey murmured, immediately regretting his question when he saw the pain in Lucas' eyes. "They began the night he and I returned to Riverton. His father wasn't dead then, but was in jail, over in Evanston. He doesn't have one every night, but often enough. Whenever something happens during the day which stresses him out, he'll have one. His run-in with the town's so-called grocer, Maxine, is still causing problems, and that happened a couple weeks ago. "Now, as if that experience weren't enough, he's going to have to go over to Evanston, to appear in some sort of trial, and describe how the despicable old crone attacked Nicky. "Nicky," Lucas explained, to Bailey, "is a child, and a great friend of Owen's. He doesn't judge, or tell Owen to do something. He doesn't expect anything. He's just there, always supportive, always full of love. It doesn't matter that he's not even six years old, I believe he's the one person Owen trusts, unconditionally. "As for Maxine!" Lucas snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, they should lock the woman up and throw away the key. Or, better yet, lock her up with Riley and Nathan's mother, and let 'em claw each other's eyes out." "So, we've got a plan for dear Elizabeth, and your Maxine," Bailey grinned. "What can be done to help Owen? I tell you, Lucas, that man is dear enough to me that if I were given a choice of seeing Owen happy, or giving up oxygen, I'd seriously consider figuring out a way to breathe vacuum." His voice softened. "I'm sure you and Sam feel the same way." "As you said a minute ago, the only person who can cure Owen is Owen, and I'm not sure he's capable of doing the job." Lucas bowed his head, then shot to his feet. "Damn it, Bailey! I feel so . . . so . . . helpless!" He raised his arms out to his sides and dropped them, then tiredly grinned. "Probably just the way you feel, dealing with the Pruitt boys." "They need news of the outside world," Bailey murmured, staring into his cup of coffee, as Lucas retook his seat. "They need to know what's happening with their father, just as much as he needs to know that they're okay. I imagine he's beside himself, worrying if that nutso mother of theirs has managed to find them, and he's not heard of their deaths. Those guys are so paranoid they don't even want me communicating with anyone through email!" Lucas responded in a low voice, glancing at Bailey from beneath lowered lashes. "Well, your prohibition doesn't apply to me. I exchange mail with Mother almost daily. I've not mentioned our guests by name, but if I tell her that they're all fit as a fiddle, but anxious to hear news of home, she'll get the message. She already knows that neither she nor Father are to speak to your folks unless it's face-to-face, just in case Dear Liz has managed to track the guys to the City. Once mother finds out something, she can relay the news back to me. "I don't know how we'll eventually tell the guys what I've been doing, but, who knows, maybe it won't be a problem if everything's already resolved. Right?" Lucas asked, doing his best to smile brightly. "Yeah," Bailey grumbled. "Right. Lucas, neither Nathan, Riley, nor their father deserve the machinations of that woman. What kind of person can hold a grudge for years and years, nurturing it, feeding it, until what blossoms, and is consumed, has nothing whatsoever to do with the real world. That woman had a grudge against someone before either Riley or Nathan were born!" "Well, at least it appears that Corey's begun to mend fences with his folks." Bailey grinned, "Yes, but, y'know, from his and Jonah's stories, I believe the highlight of his trip was reconnecting with his dog!" Bailey shook his head. "Corey told me that Houdini . . . that's his dog, never hurt him, but that no matter how sincere his folks are, he can't . . . quite . . . trust them. I was really pleased, when he added the word, 'yet'." Lucas grinned. "He told me that all Jonah spoke about was ignoring the past, and building a sense of trust. That's one smart guy . . . Jonah. Too bad he doesn't work on his brother more." "He does." Lucas sighed. "Jonah is the person Owen turns to whenever he needs support. Well," Lucas paused. "Jonah, and Owen's little friend, Nicky. Jonah though can hold him and calm his fears. Sam runs a close second, and then me," Lucas shrugged. "I have to face reality. I'm a . . . distant . . . third. Owen's doing, with me, what Corey's doing with his folks . . . he's building a sense of trust. He's doing the same thing with you guys. He knows, deep down, that none of us will knowingly hurt him, but he just . . . can't . . . quite . . . be sure. He's been hurt so often, and so terribly, that even the attempt of learning to trust is a monumental effort for him. "Now, he's going to be forced to go to Evanston and face Maxine, probably in the same courtroom where his father died. That's going to be hell for him, Bailey, and probably hell for Sam and me, afterward." Bailey sadly shook his head. "Poor, poor, Owen." * * * Riley caught Corey's eye, and gestured to the apartment next door, silently excusing himself from the after-dinner laughter taking place in Lucas', Sam's, and Owen's apartment. Corey nodded, in understanding, following the tall underwear-clad man with his eyes. Nathan had retreated next door, and was sprawled in one of the room's large armchairs, of Jonah and Corey's apartment, his head resting against the chair's back, and his legs stretched out in front of him. As Riley watched, Nathan heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes, looking much like the little brother he remembered. "Nathan," he called, in a quiet voice. "May I come in?" Nathan turned his head and smiled faintly. "Ah . . . hm," he said, before inhaling a ragged breath. "I just needed some time to myself is all. You're never an interruption." "I appreciate the thought, but sometimes a guy needs to be alone. If this is one of those times . . ." Riley began, then hesitated, as Nathan used the back of his hand to swipe the moisture from his eyes. "No! Um . . . no . . . don't go. Please. I . . . I don't really wanna be alone. It's just that, next door was too much . . . noise n'all." "Y'sure?" Riley asked, as he slowly made his way across the darkened room. "Y'thinking about Mother?" "Naw, at least I wasn't, until you brought her up," Nathan answered, his wan smile twisting bleakly upward. "No, I was just thinking 'bout me." "You?" Riley sank into one of the easy chairs opposite his brother, ignoring the glistening moisture in his brother's eyes. "Feeling sorry for myself, basically." "Oh." Riley paused, waiting for an explanation. After an extended silence he couldn't help himself. "Why are you feeling sorry for yourself?" "'Cause I'm horny, and all I've got t'keep me company is my left hand." 'There's more to this than simply being horny,' Riley thought. "You're right-handed." "Not when I'm masturbating, I'm not. The point is," Nathan sighed, "I see all you guys, so casually lounging around naked, or close enough to it. Someone's always got their arms around someone, or is kissing someone, or just hanging out, surrounded by men, who, even though they aren't lovers, are close enough to not make any difference. I thought I'd get used to seeing it, after being here for a while. I haven't. I'm not upset about it; I just wish I didn't feel so left out. "I'm not feeling like this 'cause'a you guys. I'm just . . ." he shrugged. I don't know enough about what I'm thinking . . . to know, for sure, what I'm thinking! Nathan sat up, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between his legs. "Riley, I've always thought of myself as liking girls. I don't know why I thought that, 'cause I've never had a good experience with a girl, romance-wise, I mean. I'm awkward around 'em. I stammer, and shake, and make lame jokes, n'stuff, 'cause I don't know what t'do. All of 'em treat me as if I'm experienced in the ways of the world, or something. Well, I'm not!" he said, his voice rising. "I'm just a clueless kid. "So, where does that leave me? I hate being seen as a fool, and that's what I feel whenever I'm around a girl. I don't feel like a fool when I'm around guys, even though I don't have any more experience with them than I do . . . um . . . the other. Why? Is it because I'm a guy and I know how guys think? "It seems as if I've known you were gay, since forever, but I never really thought too much about it, until I saw you with Bailey, n'all. Okay . . . I could handle that. Then, when I saw you kissing Corey, and . . . and the other guys, n'stuff, I just got a little freaked. Not in a bad way," he hastened to add, "but, surprised . . . whatever. Life, and one's sexual orientation, is so much more complicated than I ever imagined." Nathan turned to look at his brother. "Y'know, clueless me. I always thought there was one person out there for every other person, and that once you found that person, things sort'a stagnated, from there on out. Life was not much more than a search for the beginning of that stagnation. Until a guy found the right someone, you could pretty much do as you please. But, once you hooked up with someone, all that went out the window. "Now . . ." he laughed. "I've learned that all my preconceived notions were wrong. I'm not only seeing you in a way I never imagined, I'm seeing all the guys living life, just as you are! I feel so . . . provincial! Dad never kept us from experiencing the world, but," Nathan grinned, "he never even hinted that all this even existed. I'm in culture shock, or something. At the same time, I'm friggin' horny! "Seeing all you guys has put me in a constant state of horniness. I've finally given up wondering why, and have just accepted it. I'm a teenager, so, I'm horny . . . end of story. I'm supposed to be horny. But, I'm feeling more than just wanting to jerk off, and I'm not quite sure what. I've been exposed to so much . . ." "And?" Riley asked, in a soft voice. Nathan heaved a sigh. "And, I find myself getting turned on by all of it, by watching, and," Nathan lowered his voice, "by wondering what it would be like to be with another guy. That scares me, Riley. I don't know why it does, but it does. That night, when we all jerked off, with me lying naked on the floor, with Owen's bare foot toying with my nuts, was super cool. I can't get it out'a my mind. I've never ever been turned on like I was that night. I felt free. I felt happy, and . . . and, I felt as if I belonged. "Owen has that effect on folks." Nathan made an impatient gesture. "It wasn't Owen, or not entirely, anyways. It was just the fact that I didn't feel awkward, or embarrassed, or anything, like I do with girls. I wasn't stammering and stuttering. I was freaking out of my mind, I was so horny, but I felt like I belonged. You guys accepted me. You didn't tease me 'cause of my lack of experience. You didn't expect anything of me. I could tell you weren't comparing me with what's-his-name. I was just, Nathan . . . one of the guys. It was soooo friggin' cool! "Since then, what I felt . . . that night . . . is 'bout all I've thought about . . . y'know . . . bein' naked . . . with another guy . . . n'stuff. But who's available? This is a tiny town, in case you hadn't noticed. Even back in Atlanta, I would have had a hard time. Here, it's impossible. So . . . here I sit, with my freakin' hormones raging. I'm all horned-up and have no one to play with." Riley studied his brother. "Have you ever had sex with another man?" he asked. Nathan squirmed on his seat. "No . . . not real sex, fucking n'all, or even sucking. One of the guys from junior high school n'I did some fooling around, but nothin' serious, like kissing. We never even touched one another! We just sort'a . . . showed off . . . um . . . y'know? The other night, with Owen and y'all . . . that was the closest I've ever been to having real sex with another guy. It's the first time another guy's even touched me! "Yet you're curious?" "Riley, I'm horny! I mean, I'm 'bout ready to fuckin' burst, I'm so horny! I've rubbed myself raw, I've jerked off so often, and I'm still horny! Y'know . . . there's a big blond dog I've seen running around that's starting to look pretty good." Nathan laughed. "I'm joking, but you get the idea. I'm pretty much sure I'm not into animals." "So . . . what are you saying?" "Other than needing to shoot really, really bad, I don't . . . really . . . know." He squirmed on the chair. "I mean, really." "I believe you . . . really," Riley responded, with a grin, drawing a lowered brow frown from his brother. "I guess I'm also turned on by guys. I know what to expect from a guy. I feel . . . comfortable. Does that make me gay? Who knows? I don't have a clue when I'm with a girl, and they know it." "Clueless or not, from what I've seen, women like you." Riley was pleased when his brother's eyes lit. "If you haven't noticed, men also are attracted to you. You're a nice looking man, Nathan. You've got a great personality. You like to laugh and you're sensitive to other people's feelings. Those things are important to both men and women. "You're horny as all get-out, but you're wanting more than to just get your rocks off, aren't you?" Riley asked, in a low, persuasive voice. His brother jerked a single nod of his bowed head. "I want t'be held!" he cried, the words seemingly torn from his throat. "I feel like a little kid who's afraid of the playground bully. But, in my case, the bully is my Mother, and she wants to kill me. There's a difference between a bully and . . . y'know. "But, Riley . . . geez, I can't see me and you doin' what I need, even if all I'm talkin' about is a freakin' hug. I mean, you're my brother n'all. I don't mean that you're not good looking, or anything, but . . . I'm also not saying what Owen and Jonah have is wrong. It's just not for me. For them though . . . geez, I've never seen two people more in love than they are. It's almost embarrassing whenever they're in the same room together." "So . . . you want a hug." Nathan shrugged, and sighed. "Yeah . . . I guess, but . . ." Riley interrupted. "Would you feel comfortable if someone else . . . say . . . Owen's brother, Jonah, held you?" Another shrug. "That'd be way better n'you. He's a nice guy. Wouldn't he want to do more'n I want, though? I mean, I don't know what I want, other than to be held, and drop a load. Maybe what I need is a jerk-off buddy, or something." "Maybe," Riley grinned. "I don't think Jonah will ask you to do anything you don't want. He'll respect your boundaries, and your wishes." "What about him and Corey, or worse yet, him and Owen? No matter how horny I am, I don't want to hurt what they've got with one another." "I assure you, Jonah isn't going to do anything to jeopardize his relationship with either his brother, or Corey. Nathan, you've got to realize that just getting a hug, or masturbating with someone, will not cause someone's relationship to collapse, any more than getting a hug from a guy will suddenly make a person gay." He paused. "Um. Can I go next door, and ask if he'll come over?" "I don't want you hanging around, watchin', though," Nathan said, looking up, with wide eyes. "I mean, if I'm gonna make a fool of myself, I'd just as soon be a fool in front of someone other than my brother. Besides, Jonah's so nice looking, and he has Corey, I can't imagine him being interested in someone like me." Riley pushed himself out of the chair and walked toward the door, while Nathan returned to contemplating the floor. Riley crossed the stairway landing and leaned into the adjoining apartment. "Jonah, y'have a couple minutes?" Nathan heard Jonah's soft voiced reply, then his and Riley's low-voiced conversation. "Jonah," Riley said, in a low voice. "Nathan's hurting, 'cause of Mother, and a bunch of stuff. To top it off, he's horny, but that's not the main problem. He needs to be hugged, and held for a bit. Would you . . . I mean, would Corey . . . ?" "Of course I would, and no, Corey wouldn't be pissed. All of us have seen how being around us affects Nathan. He wants to participate, but he thinks there's no one for him to be with. He's afraid of causing problems if he so much as touches one of us, so, he stays to himself. He's a wonderful guy, Riley. You should be proud." Riley swallowed. "I am, way more than I ever thought possible." "Tell y'what. Give the two of us five, ten, minutes, then ask Corey to join us. That way, Nathan's not gonna freak, thinking I'm doing something behind Corey's back." "I don't know that he's asking for more than a hug," Riley warned. "Fine by me. Now . . . go back. Give Nathan and me a bit of time." "Thanks, Jonah," Riley murmured, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You're the best." Jonah grinned. "Nathan's a great guy, but he's got a pretty awesome brother, too, y'know that?" "Treat him well," Riley murmured. "Count on it." * * * "He's what?" Gustav Winton bellowed into the telephone receiver. "He can't be missing! Our men followed the ambulance all the way to the friggin' hospital! We know he went in, so . . . where is he? And, don't tell me the FBI have him. I don't want to hear it. I want Rolf dead, and I don't want any excuses. Search every room. Do whatever it takes! I'm holding you personally responsible . . . understand?" * * * "Hey, Nathan," Jonah said, his drawling accent giving his soft voice an almost musical quality. He crossed the dimly lit room, as if by instinct, gesturing to the surroundings. "Sorry for the mess. Corey n'I carried a ton of stuff cross-country, to visit his folks, and haven't gotten 'round to putting everything back where it belongs." He paused, as Nathan nervously stood, rubbing the palms of his hands over the sides of his shorts. "Riley tells me you're needing t'be held . . . that your mother n'all is weighing heavily on you." Nathan bowed his head. "Yeah, sort'a." "He told me what you were needing, and sort'a hinted that I shouldn't come on so strong I'd freak you, or anything. I wonder what he thought I'd do?" Jonah asked, in an amused tone of voice. "I really am kind'a a laid-back sort'a guy. Besides, after just hugging you, I wouldn't automatically assume you'd want more. Am I making any sense?" Nathan chuckled. "Yeah, it's just that I'm feeling a little weirded-out." Nathan turned his back and walked to the center of the room. "I mean, I've never even had another guy touch me, much less someone who looks like you." He hurriedly looked over his shoulder. "I mean that in a good way! "Besides . . . hell . . . I saw how you and your brother greeted one another, and how you and Corey can't seem to let go of one another. I . . . with you hugging me, I'd feel like I was doing something I shouldn't . . . um . . . be, doing . . . y'know?" His voice dropped. "You love him, don't you? More than just as a brother, I mean." "Owen." Jonah said, after a moment's silence. His mouth seemed to caress the name before reluctantly parting with it. "Love seems so . . . small . . . to describe what I feel for him. He is a . . . a part of me. It's like I'm not . . . I don't know . . . whole . . . unless we're together." He grinned crookedly. "We're not here to talk about me and my brother, though. We're here to talk about you. Are you afraid I'll force you t'do something you don't want to?" Nathan shook his bowed head. "No. I . . . maybe, I'm . . ." He bit his lip, as if focusing his thoughts. "I think what I'm afraid of is that you won't ask me. "How old are you, Jonah?" he asked. "Eighteen." "Me, too. Are you ever afraid of stuff?" Nathan asked, sensing Jonah moving closer, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable. "All the time," Jonah answered, in a voice as warm and tender as a lover's caress. Nathan huffed a laugh. "You hide it well." "I'm a good actor," Jonah murmured, now standing close enough to touch the troubled man. His confidence, combined with his hypnotic voice, radiated a comforting warmth. "I hide my feelings well. Owen and I come from a long line of folks who hide their feelings, and suffer 'cause of it. So . . . much of what you see, from both Owen n'me, is an act. When acting gets t'be too much, I turn to Corey, or Owen, and they help out. They do the same with me, or with Lucas, or Sam. "People are always afraid of something, it seems. Sometimes those things are small, and seem silly later-on. Other times, what we're afraid of really is scary." He paused. "Are you feeling afraid, right now?" Nathan jerked a single nod, not able to turn and face the man who was standing so close. He gulped a breath of air, then heaved a sigh, as Jonah began to speak. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Nathan. I'm only offering to hug you, and listen if you need to talk. Just 'cause I love guy-sex, doesn't mean I'm going to attack you, or expect anything of you." Nathan huffed a laugh. "I'd punch you out, if you tried something I don't want you to do," he playfully threatened, continuing to look away. "In your dreams," Jonah retorted, pleased Nathan seemed to be opening up. "I'm stronger than I look." Nathan snorted, "So m'I." He seemed to think for a moment. "You'd be willing to hold me for a while?" "I would be privileged," Jonah murmured, as he reached out and touched Nathan's shoulder with his fingertips. "It wouldn't feel right, if Riley did it. I mean, we're brothers n'all." "I understand. But, Riley's not here. If you need a hug, I'm here, and I won't tell anyone, even Riley, what we did, or anything you said. Would that make you feel better?" "I'm not into guys," Nathan said, once more bowing his head. "At least, I don't think I am. I'm feelin' sort'a mixed up. Is that okay?" "A person doesn't have to be into guys to need a hug from another one." Jonah rested a hand on Nathan's shoulder and slowly turned the dark haired man to face him. "I . . . I . . . I don't know what to do," Nathan murmured, his eyes flicking to Jonah's, then away. "You stand still, then I put my arms around you, and gently squeeze," Jonah murmured. He embraced Nathan and drew him close. "All you've got to do is relax." "Y'mind if I hug you back?" Nathan asked, in a small voice. "I would love it," Jonah murmured, as Nathan rested his head on his shoulder and returned the hug. "Doin' okay?" Jonah murmured, as he tenderly rubbed a hand up and down Nathan's back. His question was answered by a slight sound. "I gotta tell you, you're a natural," Jonah teased, then sobered, as he felt Nathan's body tremble and his embrace tighten. "I'm really afraid," Nathan murmured, surrendering himself to the tears he'd not shed since his mother's 'death.' "Riley n'I are hiding. Mother wants us dead," he managed to say, between sobs. "I've done my best to love her, and she wants to kill me. I feel so powerless. Why would she want to kill me . . . her own son? I haven't done anything to her. Why?" he asked, as the tears flowed, and he held Jonah in a tight embrace. "Shhhhh." Jonah smoothed the hair at the back of Nathan's head. "There's no understanding why people behave the way they do. The thing you've got'a remember is that there are a lot of folks who are working to make sure she doesn't have the chance." "It's just . . . I feel so . . . so . . . much like a child. I wish Mother would just fade away, or hound someone else, leavin' Dad, me, and Riley alone." "That's not likely, though," Jonah murmured. Nathan sniffed. "I guess . . . not," then lapsed into silence. "Comfortable?" Jonah murmured, some time later, as he nuzzled Nathan's hair. The crying had stopped, but Nathan's hug, if anything, was tighter. "M'horny," Nathan murmured, with a mischievous smile in his voice. "Being in fear for my life always does that to me. I'm strange, that way." "Hugging a sexy man does it to me," Jonah murmured in return. There was a long silence. "Y'think I'm sexy? I'm not too skinny?" Jonah made a negative sound. "I've got some freckles on my nose." Jonah hummed. "I know. So does my brother. I love 'em." "I have mud-brown eyes, not really cool ones, like Riley." Jonah huffed a laugh. "That's great! At least I won't feel like you're lookin' inside my head, or something. Sometimes, that's the way I feel when Riley's staring at me. Brown's a good color. Besides, yours are a pale brown, nothing like the color of mud. I feel good, whenever you're watching me. It's a feeling like having a good friend rest his arm on your shoulder. I want t'smile." "Or, like a hug?" The corners of Jonah's lips curled upward. "Yeah, something like that." "Have you ever masturbated with another guy?" Nathan asked. "Um hum." "I haven't, other than the night Riley, Bailey, and I arrived here in town, and everyone sort'a shot a load. I'm talking about jerking off with another guy, one-on-one, that sort'a thing. I played around with another guy, when I was lots younger. We never touched each other, though." Jonah felt Nathan smile. "That's when I learned I like showing off." "Are you wanting to . . . show off while you masturbate? With me, I mean?" "You're gonna think I'm weird." Jonah backed up and looked into Nathan's brown eyes, never releasing his grasp of the man's shoulders. 'Even more beautiful eyes than I remember,' he thought, 'Light brown, with a dark border.' "I knew it!" he laughed, tearing himself away from the wonderful eyes. "You've got two dicks, or three nuts, or something. That's why you're afraid I'll think you're weird." "Naw," Nathan smiled, answering sheepishly. "Then, why will I think you're weird? You wanna shoot a load. What's weird about that?" "It's not that I want to shoot, it's that . . . well, I . . . saw a porno video once, where the guy shoots his stuff all over another guy." Nathan looked into Jonah's eyes. "May I shoot my stuff on you? You wouldn't think I'm some sort of wacko pervert, would you? I mean, I think it'd be so cool to be kneeling at your side . . . both of us nekkid, y'know, and shoot my juice onto you. I'd be so friggin' hot to see you run your fingertips through my sperm then use it as lube to shoot your own load. "You believe I'm gonna think you're weird 'cause of that?" "That's not too crazy for you?" Jonah grinned. "Nope, not for me. In fact, that almost qualifies as vanilla." "F'real? Vanilla!?" Nathan's head jerked around at the sound of a gentle knock on the doorframe. Corey, dressed in a pair of yellow and black underwear, raised a hand in greeting, and smiled. The dim light highlighted the muscles of his chest and flat belly. The underwear stretched over the bulge of his groin, and, even from where Nathan stood, he could see a hint of Corey's dark pubes above the waistband. "Riley told me you were feelin' rotten, and Jonah, here, had volunteered t'help you out. Y'doin' better?" he asked, as he crossed the room to stand at Nathan and Jonah's side. Nathan jerked a nod, suddenly shy. "Good; Jonah's helped me out lots'a times," Corey murmured. "Y'guys mind me joining you? The party next door has taken a decidedly sexual turn, and I'm feelin' a little left out." He rested a hand on Nathan's shoulder, before moving it up and down his back. "I bet you're feelin' the same way, right?" "I'm sorry!" Nathan blurted, then seemed to calm when Jonah tightened his arm around his waist. Corey sobered. "For needin' a hug?" he asked. "Riley's got Bailey to turn to, to help him when he's feeling bad. Who do you have? . . . Nobody!" "Yeah, but . . ." "No buts about it. I'm glad Jonah's been able to make you feel a little better. Sometimes, just being held by someone makes all the bad stuff happening in one's life not seem so bad. Jonah's good at that. He's held me a lot, recently, when I was going through a couple rough spots." Nathan softly snorted. "You're right 'bout his hug. My pillow never hugged me or rubbed my back when I've cried. He did. "But, I'm feeling so much more than being afraid 'cause Riley and I are being hunted by our mother. Seeing you all be so casual about sex . . . I don't know if watchin' all you, and beating-off whenever I go back to my room, thinkin' 'bout your dicks, n'all, makes me gay, or what. I just know that I've 'bout rubbed myself raw, I've been jacking off so much. "I spurted into my hand, one time, when I was hiding out, watching Riley fuck Bailey. When Riley shot . . . so did I. I'd normally wipe-up with a towel or something, but, instead, since I didn't have a towel handy, I licked my own stuff . . . imagining it was someone else's. I've never done anything like that before, but . . . since then, I jerk off, not only 'cause it feels awesome, but, also, so I can slurp up my own juice." "Sounds like you love the taste," Jonah said, as he resumed rubbing a hand up and down Nathan's back, pleased at the response to the touch. "I love tasting my own," Jonah teased, "but Mister Greedy, here," he said, nodding toward Corey, "hardly ever lets me taste it." He smiled. "It's a good trade-off, though. I get to swallow his. Plus, I get t'give him a tongue bath, just to make sure I didn't miss any of his juice." Nathan bowed his head. "Um, would you guys let me taste yours? You can have mine," he quickly added. "I'm sure I'd be able to shoot more'n once, I'm so friggin' horny. I wanna be with a guy . . . y'know . . . all nekkid, n'all. I wanna be skin-to-skin, all slippery with sweat n'stuff. I'd love to know what it's like t'kiss a guy, at the same time feeling the weight of his body on top of me. I'd like to taste a guy's sweat, to lick his pits, or his sweaty nuts. I'd . . ." He raised his head and smiled. "Hell, I guess I'd like to try everything." His eyes widened. "If tasting one another's sperm would hurt you guys' relationship, maybe we could just get naked and watch each other jack off, or maybe I could watch as you guys fuck n'stuff. Geez," he groaned, as he adjusted himself. "I'm freakin' hard, just thinking about you guys, n'all." Nathan broke away from Jonah and Corey's touch, and quickly paced across the living room, where he ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. "I'm making a mess of this whole thing, embarrassing myself, n'all." He turned, his face flushed. "Maybe, before I do something to make things worse, I should go." "No!" Corey said, using the same voice he would use on a cranky child. "No," he repeated, lowering his voice. "We'd like you to stay. Right?" he asked, turning to Jonah, who grinned. "He's not the only one who's horny. Just listening to him talk about tasting each other's jiz, and squirming around skin-to-skin, has gotten me hard." Jonah looked at Nathan. "Like Corey says, stay. There aren't any expectations about what you'll do, so don't feel like we're pushing you. If you think things are getting a little intense, just tell us. We'll back off. Or, you can watch as we make love. We both sort'a like being watched. Or, if you want things to be more intense, let us know. This doesn't have t'be a one-time thing, y'know." Corey nodded agreement. "We can do some stuff tonight, and some stuff later on." "You guys wanna fool around? I mean, f'real?" Nathan asked, his voice rising? "I mean, I'm just a scrawny guy." Corey crossed the room, and took Nathan into a tender embrace, patting him on the back as Nathan rested his head on his shoulder. "You're not scrawny. And . . . whether you think so or not, you're a cutie. Your smile, your eyes, your voice . . . drop dead sexy." "But, Riley . . ." "You are not Riley," Corey said. "You are Nathan, the guy with whom we'd like to share an evening . . ." "And some sperm," Jonah added. "But . . ." "You've got a tongue, don't you?" Corey asked, a chuckle in his voice, cutting off Nathan's self-deprecating response. "Yeahhhh," Nathan responded, drawing out the word. "What about a dick?" Jonah asked, joining Corey at Nathan's side. "Yeah, I've got one of those," Nathan responded. "I've got a couple balls, too, and I can shoot." "And, you've got a way-sexy butt," Jonah concluded, as he cupped one of Nathan's butt cheeks. "And," Corey added. "He wants to swap sperm . . . while we kiss!" "And lick our pits," Jonah added, raising an arm, inviting Nathan to nuzzle the hair. "And lick our sweaty nuts," Corey added, tenderly running a hand over Nathan's chest, belly, and, finally, cupping his erection. "And, we get t'do all the same stuff to him!" "What more could guys want?" Jonah laughed. * * * Riley glanced toward the adjacent apartment, wondering at the burst of laughter. 'That was Nathan, laughing,' he thought. 'Things must be going okay . . . or else, Corey's telling one of his outrageous stories' Bailey watched his partner, and knew his thoughts. "If he was going to freak out, it would have happened by now," he murmured. "Corey and Jonah will help him out. If they want to do something Nathan doesn't like, he'll tell them. He's a big boy. Let 'em alone, and stop worrying." * * * Nathan tilted his head back, inhaled deeply, and sighed, as Jonah began nuzzling one side of his neck, while Corey concentrated on the other. His knees felt weak, with a combination of excitement, at what was happening, and anxiety that he might do something wrong. 'These guys would understand,' he chided himself. 'They're not like the girls at school, all of whom were more experienced than I am. They were looking for someone to make fun of.' A surge of anger threatened to overwhelm him, at the thought of some of the girls he'd known, and was misinterpreted by one of the men at his side. "Easy, Nathan," Corey murmured, nuzzling his ear. "If we're going somewhere you don't want us to, just tell us." Corey's breath was warm against his skin, sending shivers of anticipation which centered on his groin. "It's not you guys," he murmured, as he put an arm around Jonah's waist, to help support himself. "I was just thinking how different you guys are from the girls I've known." Jonah barked a laugh. "I should hope so! Ick! I've never been compared with a girl before." "He always talk this much?" Nathan teased, turning to Corey. "He's just like his brother." Corey paused, turned, then reluctantly stepped away. "Speaking of brother," he said, as he crossed the room, and swung the double doors, which opened onto the stairway landing, closed. "Closed doors are a signal to everyone that we don't want to be interrupted," Jonah murmured, as he continued to nuzzle Nathan's neck and jaw. "Y'okay?" he asked, backing off far enough to focus on Nathan's face. Nathan swallowed, and nodded, giving Jonah a tremulous smile. "Yeah, things'r cool. Thanks." "Good." "We've got a real big bed, in the other room," Corey suggested, as he rejoined the two men, pleased when Nathan confidently circled his waist with an arm, then, a moment later, ran his hand over the fabric of Corey's underwear. "Maybe it'd be good to use it, instead of standing in the middle of the room. "Y'sure?" Nathan responded "The bed. In there," Corey gestured. "More comfortable . . . naked . . . lying down." "Um . . . can we kiss?" Nathan croaked. He licked across his lips, and forced moisture into his dry mouth. "Y'know . . . tasting one another's tongue." "Mmmm. Like this?" Jonah asked, as, this time, his line of small kisses went beyond Nathan's neck and jaw, and continued on. 'Oh geez,' Nathan said, to himself. All Jonah and Corey heard was a whimper of surrender, as first, his and Jonah's lips touched; then, a moment later, their tongues. "Easy, handsome," Corey murmured, as a tremor of building passion, shook Nathan's body. "We've got all night." "Thank you," Nathan groaned, on an exhaled breath, as he turned to Corey, welcoming the touch of his lips and tongue. * * * Elizabeth nervously glanced to one side, then the other, as she approached the entrance to the law firm which was now handling Pruitt Builders' affairs. Anger surged, causing her to pause. 'Gustav should be handling my money, no one else . . . especially these . . . people,' she almost spat, unable to think of a name bad enough to call those who had played a large part in ruining her life. "Hello." She did her best to pleasantly return the receptionist's warm greeting. The modern office was surprisingly unlike Gustav's wood paneled, fusty old-fashioned office, which smelled of cigars and wood wax. "I'm considering retaining a new firm to handle my company's affairs. I've been told that this firm is new to Atlanta, and is highly thought of. I mean, Pruitt Builders won't hire just any firm, will they? "I can tell, from your accent, that you're not a native," Elizabeth continued. "Did you come here with the firm?" "Oh, yes. We all moved down here as part of a . . . special project," the secretary said, making an offhand reference to where she'd relocated from. "This is so much different than back home, so . . . warm," the young woman said, playfully fanning herself. Her smile made Elizabeth want to . . . strangle her. "I like it fine, though," the young woman continued, as she checked her computer for a time to make an appointment, for the slightly . . . dowdy . . . woman. 'I can't believe she owns a business,' the secretary told herself. 'But . . . it's not my position to judge people. Maybe she's fallen on some hard times, or something, and wants us to help her get back on her feet . . . or . . . something.' "Oh, dear," the older woman exclaimed, glancing at her watch. "I had no idea it was so late!" She gave the wide-eyed receptionist a distracted smile. "I'll have to come back and finish making the appointment." With that, she turned and hustled out of the building, and into the blinding noon time light. 'So . . . my dear . . . husband,' she exulted, as she left the building. 'Now, I at least know where you met these bastards who replaced dear Gustav's firm. I would bet that that's where Riley went to school, not at the University of Georgia, as he led all of us to believe. ' She laughed out loud. "Try to hide something from me will you? You may not be in the city now, my dears, but, at least, I have a starting point. I am going to track you down, if it's the last thing I do. Then . . . once I find you . . . I am going to kill you.'
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