Chapter 93
Once Peter knew that Chad had headed home to his parents, he booked a flight and drove to the airport.
He spent the whole flight imagining what he was going to do when he saw Chad—his ideas ranging from begging for forgiveness to sitting on him until he agreed to be good.
By the time he picked up his rental car and drove to the modest two-story house where Chad had grown up, he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do.
Parking his car in the Brand family driveway, Peter walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
There was a pause of about ten seconds before the door opened, and a middle-aged beta stared up at him.
It was obvious he was Chad’s father. They had the same open face, though Chad’s cheekbones were sharper and his jaw was more pronounced. He had blond hair, lighter than Chad’s, which he’d combed back in a style that was ten years out of date.
“You must be Peter Tank.” The words were said without any inflection. Peter narrowed his eyes, baffled by how threatened he felt by this unassuming beta. The man had a claim to Chad that Peter could never encroach on, and he hated it.
“I am.” Peter spoke the words with as much alpha authority and arrogance as he could muster. Chad’s father’s lip curled up in a bleak smile.
“You’re exactly what I pictured,” he said, leaving Peter feeling confused and off balance. “I guess you’re going to want to come in?”
Peter nodded.
“I don’t like you, by the way,” Chad’s father said, closing the door behind him. “Not from what Chad’s told me, or from what I’ve read about you.”
Peter didn’t know quite what to say about that. When he was younger he would have automatically ripped the man’s throat out for daring to speak to him with such disrespect, but it was a long time since Peter had been so out of control.
Chad was lucky he hadn’t known Peter when he was in his twenties. If Peter had felt the kind of want he felt for Chad then, he would have taken him without giving a fuck what Chad felt about it.
Peter took a step forward and backed his mate’s father up against the wall, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. When in doubt, intimidation was always the best answer.
“Watch it, beta,” he growled, his voice low and mean.
Chad’s father looked down, but there wasn’t much submission in it. Peter stepped back, satisfied that he had put the beta in his place.
“Where is Chad?” he asked, looking around the hallway. There were pictures of Chad growing up everywhere, and Peter almost smiled at the one of Chad as a teenager towering over his beta parents.
“He’s sleeping,” Chad’s father said. “He had a long flight. Why don’t you come into the kitchen to meet my wife?”
Peter was about to decline, but Chad’s father just walked around him and left him no choice but to make a scene or follow. For a second he debated just using his nose and hunting Chad down by his scent, but he was curious to see if Chad’s mother was as odd as his father.
It would explain so much.
“Sweetheart? We have a guest!” Chad’s father called out.
“Who is it?” a woman’s voice answered. Peter and Chad’s father walked into the kitchen, and a small beta woman froze at the sight of them.
She had Chad’s eyes.
“Sweetheart, this is Peter Tank, Chad’s mate. Peter, this is my wife Martha.”
Peter walked forward and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Martha.”
Martha shook his hand, her grip firm for a beta.
“And your name?” Peter asked, turning to Chad’s father.
“You mean Chad never told you?” the man asked.
“No.” Peter let his displeasure be known. He was reaching his limit with the impudent beta, and Chad’s father or no, if he kept pushing Peter would deal with him.
“I’m John.”
“We were surprised when Chad called to say he was coming to visit,” Martha said, looking between Peter and her husband. “Is everything all right between the two of you?”
Peter stared at her, wondering where she got the nerve to probe like that. Then again, maybe that’s just how betas were.
“I’m sure we’ll work it out,” Peter said after a brief pause. He hoped it was true.
Martha looked like she was going to say something more, but she was interrupted by the sound of someone walking down the stairs.
It had to be Chad.
Bracing himself like he was about to take a punch, Peter listened as Chad made his way toward the kitchen.
“Mom? Dad? I thought I smelled—”
Chad froze in the kitchen doorway when he saw Peter. They stared at each other, and Peter examined the expressions flitting across Chad’s face. Surprise, anger, and—thank God—happiness.
“Chad. We need to talk,” Peter said.
Chad took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you want to come up to my room?”
Peter nodded, walking away from John and Martha without a look back. He and Chad climbed the stairs to Chad’s bedroom, and when he stepped inside Peter felt a rush of affection.
The room was exactly like he’d imagined it would be: plastered in omega posters, each one more tacky and insipid than the last.
Peter imagined Chad in here as a teenager, jerking off and popping his knot left and right, and his cock hardened.
“So what do you want to talk about?” Chad asked, sitting down on the bed. He pulled his legs up to his chest and leaned his back against the wall, looking up at Peter with a blank expression.
“You disobeyed orders,” Peter said, crossing his arms and affixing Chad with a stern stare.
“I did.” Chad held his gaze. His upper lip was stiff and defiant.
“This is a problem."
Chad barked out a laugh, but then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall like he was exhausted.
“Does that happen often?” he asked, eyes still closed. He opened his eyes and clarified before Peter could answer the question, “I mean, do you just kill anyone the people who hire you tell you to?”
Peter couldn’t help but flinch at the pain in Chad’s voice, and at how personal the question was. Peter braced himself and told the truth.
“I used to, when I was younger. That’s how the whole mercenary thing started,” Peter said truthfully. Chad’s eyes went wide. “But these days we only take legal contracts.”
Chad went from shock to anger like a switch had been flipped.
“I was told to shoot an unarmed civilian in the back,” he snarled, his eyes blazing. “How the fuck is that legal?”
Peter had never been good at countering moral fury. Ignoring it, sure, but coming up with an argument to defend himself other than I don’t care had never been his strong suit.
“The laws in the UES are different than they are here. You wouldn’t have broken the law by shooting him. It wouldn’t have been right, but it was legal.”
Chad swallowed and looked away. When he looked back at Peter, his expression was hard.
“I don’t want to work for you anymore.”
“You’ve already been fired.” Peter didn’t know why he said that.
“I don’t want to be with someone who thinks it’s okay to murder people for profit.”
Peter didn’t really have an answer for that.
“So what are you saying?” he asked. He moved over to the bed and sat down next to Chad, their shoulders brushing. Chad moved up the bed until he was sitting in the corner, the space between them speaking volumes.
“I know that we have some kind of connection, and the sex is great, but I’m not sure I actually like you. I think rushing into this was a mistake.”
Peter felt Chad’s rejection like a stab in the gut. Sharp and blinding, it hurt more than anything he’d ever endured in the field. He felt wounded.
Then he got angry.
“And do you really think I’m going to let you leave?” Peter’s voice was silky and dangerous, backed by the confidence of an alpha who could make anyone do anything he wanted.
Leaning back against the wall, his legs stretched out on the floor in front of him, Peter made himself big and intimidating.
Chad watched him spreading out into his personal space, his expression not changing.
“If I want to, yes.”
He sounded utterly sure, and Peter deflated. Chad was right. Peter wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want.
“So what can I do to make this work?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if I stopped accepting contracts like that? Would you be willing to come back?”
If sacrificing the mercenary arm of Tank Security was the price it took to keep Chad, Peter would pay it.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve been shifting my focus to the IT side of the business. What if I restructured the company and got rid of all the mercenary operations that wouldn’t hold up to public scrutiny?”
Chad was quiet for a long time, but then he took a deep breath.
“You would really do that for me?” He sounded hopeful, and Peter let himself believe that he could actually salvage this.
“I love you, so yes.”
Chad bit his lip and shook his head, and Peter tilted his head quizzically. “What?”
“We’ve never actually said that to each other before.” Chad’s voice was wistful.
Peter realized what he’d said, but he couldn’t believe that it was the first time he’d said it. But thinking back, it was.
“Well, I do. Love you.”
He waited for Chad to say it back, but he didn’t.
“What if I’d just shot him?” Chad asked. He stared at Peter, and Peter had no idea where he was going with the question.
“Yes?”
“Would it have bothered you?”
Peter shook his head. “I don’t… I care about the people I care about. Other than that, no.”
Chad was quiet for a long time.
“I don’t understand that,” he said at last. “I don’t think I would have been able to live with myself if I’d taken the shot.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Peter said.
Chad’s answering look was searching. “You are?”
Peter nodded. He wasn’t lying. “You’re not the kind of person who does bad things. You’re good. I wouldn’t want you to give that up for something as stupid as my company.”
Peter reached out, putting his hand on Chad’s shoulder. When Chad didn’t pull away, he moved closer until he had Chad resting into his side.
“I can’t change who I was, but if keeping you means I have to go completely legit, I’ll do it so fast it will make your head spin.”
Chad chuckled, and Peter smiled.
“I was lying when I said I didn’t like you.” Chad put his hand on Peter’s thigh, letting it rest there.
“It’s okay,” Peter said, though it really wasn’t. The words still hurt, and they would for a long time. It was terrifying how much power Chad had over him. How easily he could destroy him.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
Peter didn’t respond, but his heart soared. He squeezed Chad tighter, burying his face in his hair and breathing in his scent.
It was long enough now that he could curl his fingers in it.
“You met my parents,” Chad said after a good twenty minutes had passed. He sounded a little hysterical. Peter put a hand on the back of his neck and massaged him until he calmed down.
“I did,” he said. “They really, really hate me.”
Chad laughed, and he didn’t deny it. Then he turned his face to look up at Peter. “Am I going to meet your parents? They live in the city, right?”
Peter groaned. His mother would approve of Chad. She hated the alphas he usually dated, men who ranked almost near him when it came to dominance, and easygoing Chad would be right up her alley.
“Maybe someday,” Peter said.
“We should have a wedding,” Chad said, surprising Peter. “And invite all our friends and family.”
Peter hoped Chad was kidding, but then he reconsidered. It might be nice to stand in front of all their friends and family and declare, proudly, that Chad now belonged to him.
And that he belonged to Chad.
If Chad were serious, Peter decided, he wouldn’t put up a fight.
***