5. GALLOWS
5
GALLOWS
Blair woke up wanting to claw his leg off. It wasn’t quite bad enough alone to wake him up—he had the trilling of his alarm to thank for that—but it still fucking sucked. He swiped his phone to dismiss the alarm. If only it was that easy to make his leg stop itching, a feeling that had slowly been outweighing pain as it healed.
He swung his legs off the side of the bed and tested his weight on them. It didn’t feel great, he didn’t think he was ready to abandon his crutches altogether, but he could feel the difference. His leg probably would have buckled if he’d tried that right after he got out of the hospital.
The stairs leading up to the open upper level of the apartment where his bedroom was had certainly been an obstacle since he came home. He had mastered them now, getting up and down even with the awkward use of his crutches. He rifled through the pantry until he found a bag of coffee and some crumpled filters. His coffee maker made a few garbled sounds before coming to life and he heard the telltale bubbling of water from the back. He didn’t drink a lot of coffee or caffeine in general, but he’d woken up with an unusual craving for it.
Spencer awaited him downstairs. It was humid as all hell outside, the worst kind of day to be going to the docks. At least he could enjoy the frigid air conditioning in the Lexus while it lasted.
They weren’t even off his block before the interrogation started.
“How did your not-date go?” Spencer asked, and though his face was blank Blair could hear the shit-eating grin he was concealing.
Blair didn’t have half the skill he would need to deceive Spencer. He didn’t bother trying, just groaned and ran his hands down his face. “He’s such a dick.”
“Lucky for you that you don’t have to see him again, then.”
“Yeah.”
“You want to, though.”
Blair couldn’t argue with that; he did want to see Wren again. Not that he knew why . By all accounts, Wren was awful. He’d repeatedly said his only reason for helping Tristan was for his own benefit, and to call him rude was an understatement. Wren was insufferable most of the time.
It was the rest of the time, though. Those rare moments when Wren wasn’t terrible. Those were the ones that kept pulling Blair back, that made him burn with curiosity to know who Wren actually was.
Blair couldn’t have been happier for their arrival at the docks to force the conversation to an end. He grabbed his crutches out of the back and looked around. With the dock under construction and not allowing large or commercial charters, it was oddly deserted. Only a couple recreational vessels sat on the water.
Koji awaited them on one of the piers, and he and Spencer exchanged pleasantries in Japanese while Blair checked the shipment. He opened a wooden crate covered in shipping markings and stamps, half of which probably weren’t real, and nodded to Spencer when he accounted for all the guns they’d paid for—much less than Incindious was going to sell them for, of course.
Spencer loaded the crate into the trunk of his car and they drove to Felix’s apartment. Spencer had yet to pick their earlier conversation back up but it was still on Blair’s mind. He traced the edge of his seat, following the stitched pattern in the cloth. It was easy to imagine it as leather instead. He could still feel the cool touch of Wren’s finger pressing against his lips. His hand curled into a fist against the seat. If Wren had kissed him, Blair wouldn’t have stopped him. That could be a problem.
Blair took advantage of the half hour ride to the boss’ place to try to clear his head. Thinking about what happened with Wren was just going to distract him, and he could do that on his own time.
“I’m coming in,” Spencer called, unlocking Felix’s apartment door. He punched a number into the blinking keypad for the security system.
It was a nice apartment that would have been a lot nicer without the laundry strewn across the floor and multiple ashtrays overflowing, but he’d heard Spencer lecture Felix on his housekeeping enough times to know the state of the place was never going to change. Blair was just glad it was on the first floor.
There was a groan from the corner of the studio apartment and Blair saw a head of artificially bright hair lift from the pillows. Felix was sprawled on his stomach in nothing but his CK briefs and an expensive looking wristwatch. He glared over his shoulder at the sound of Spencer dropping the crate on the floor.
“You fuckin’ mind?” Felix growled.
“I told you to slow down last night, don’t blame me because you’re hungover.”
Felix didn’t grace him with a response, just gave him a final glare before he went staggering to the bathroom. He came back out after a minute and dug in his discarded coat on the floor for his cigarettes. Spencer was already holding out his lighter when Felix stood up, and Felix leaned in to the flame. He straightened up once the paper began to blacken and curl away from the end of his cigarette. Felix ignored the crate in favor of going over to open the window; there could have been a SWAT team at the door and he wouldn’t have given a shit until he had his first cigarette of the day.
Blair leaned on the arm of the recliner and watched the boss with a small pang of jealousy. He was toned enough himself but there was nothing to remind him of his small stature like all six feet of Felix Bane’s inked, rock hard body standing around in his underwear. Felix crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray on the windowsill, making the red dragon that spanned the length of his back coil with the flexing of his muscles. Its wings stopped at the top of his shoulders and its tail disappeared into the waistband of his briefs where it curled around his hip, as Blair remembered from the couple times Felix hadn’t bothered with clothes when he had company. Felix lowered his arm back to his side and the dragon relaxed along with him.
They looked through the weapons, a fully automatic Glock 18 for Felix to have as a backup weapon, a FN Scar assault rifle to keep at the bar, and a few pistols to upsell to their usual clientele. Felix wanted to go back to bed, so it was a short visit.
Spencer dropped Blair off at home, and Blair slowly made his way upstairs with a dull pain in his thigh.
Blair washed up the few dishes he had accumulated and searched for anything around the apartment he could straighten up. He had left his crutches by the door, as he wanted to see how long he could stay on his leg before he needed them again. So far the worst part was still the itching. The biggest task he found was folding the laundry that had been piling up in his armchair. It had been washed and dried but never put it away, which took longer than he expected. It was less of a physical struggle than it was a trial for his short attention span.
He was sitting on the couch, almost done cleaning his Beretta when his phone rang. He swiped the screen by feel and put it between his ear and shoulder without looking at the ID. “Hello.”
“Hello, Blair.”
He released the slide too quick and had to jerk his finger out of the way before it got pinched. “What’s up?”
“Nothing in particular, I just got out of class.”
Blair resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would be audible over the line. At least Wren had made good on his word to call but god, he had the conversation skills of a houseplant. He wiped the barrel of the gun with a cleaning cloth one last time. “You doing anything tonight?”
“Oh, asking me out on an actual date this time?”
“I… depends on whether or not you’re doing anything.”
That was not what Blair was supposed to say.
Of course he wasn’t asking Wren out. That would be a terrible, supremely stupid idea.
“I can be,” Wren said.
There was probably a double meaning there, but Blair didn’t let himself think too hard about it. “You are now. Hang tight at school, I’ll come pick you up.” So much for just keeping in touch to maintain a connection for the gang’s sake.
“You shouldn’t be driving yet.”
“You go to NYU School of Medicine, right? I’m guessing so since it’s the closest one to the hospital.”
Wren hummed his affirmation. “I’ll be waiting here for you, then.”
Blair’s stomach flipped at those words and he said his goodbyes quickly before he hung up. He stood up and tucked the gun against the small of his back. He stared at the darkened screen of his phone. Damn it. Every time he had a chance to leave Wren alone, he strayed closer instead.
I can take a step back from this whenever I want , Blair reasoned to himself on the way downstairs. A date didn’t have to mean anything serious. Just getting to know Wren better wouldn’t cause Blair to be distracted. Right?
Blair straddled his motorcycle, a lean street bike with the Incindious logo on the side, the red and black lines standing out against the glossy white paint. His pants drew a little tighter over his thighs when he put his feet against the pegs, but it was more of a mild discomfort than pain.
He rolled the throttle back as soon as he was out of the parking lot. The wind whipped his hair away from his face, made his eyes sting in the best way. It made him forget about the warehouse. It didn’t allow him to care that Wren was the walking embodiment of a bad idea with all the chaos already brewing in his life. The wind forced everything out of his mind except the rush, and he wondered if this was what the people with dilated pupils and bleeding nostrils paid Adam and Nolan for, if it was anything like the same escape they sought.
Sooner than he expected, he was at the NYU School of Medicine. It was hard to miss seeing as it was pretty much its own block. The buildings stretched higher than anything in Flushing, and higher than many of its neighboring structures, as well. The place looked like a fucking nightmare to navigate. He rolled to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, where a group of students were openly staring as he put the kickstand down. He gave a half wave and looked around. Did he call Wren, did he go look for him? He was at a loss now that he was actually there.
One of the ogling students whistled, a redhead like Blair but with much softer waves than his own choppy haircut. He winked at Blair and Blair’s cheeks heated up.
A familiar voice saved Blair from any further discomfort. “Andy, please keep it in your offensively bright pants.”
Blair flushed deeper as he realized one of the students, standing behind those at the front, was Wren. The redhead in yellow skinny jeans—Andy, apparently—had just stepped back to let him through. Wren’s hair was down and he was wearing a black tank top, leaving his arms exposed for Blair to stare at the lean muscle and pale skin on display. He wondered how long it would take before just looking at the gorgeous fucker didn’t reduce him to one functioning braincell.
His voice finally came back, steadier than he expected. “You ready, Sunshine?”
Wren’s lips pressed into a thin line and Blair smiled. Annoying Wren was no less fun now that it was the first night they met. Blair focused on him rather than the students gaping at them. Wren threw a leg over the bike with ease and rested his hands on Blair’s hips, a light pressure he almost couldn’t feel through the material of his cargo pants.
“Hold on,” Blair advised, knocking the stand back up.
There wasn’t much of a choice once they were in motion. Wren jolted forward when the bike picked up speed and wrapped his arms around Blair’s waist. His forearms were rigid, fingers laced together. Blair went back the way he came, stopping only when he got caught by a traffic light.
He turned his head in Wren’s direction. “You ever taken a motorcycle across the Ed Koch before?” he asked, nodding to the shape of the Manhattan bridge looming in the distance.
Wren’s voice was nearly lost in the road noise but Blair heard him reply, “I’ve never taken a motorcycle anywhere.”
“That explains why you’re all stiff. Just relax, and—oh. Um, hey.” He forgot the rest of his sentence as Wren had propped his chin on Blair’s shoulder to listen, so close that his hair tickled the side of Blair’s face. Wren moved his head away when they took off again and Blair let out the breath that had lodged itself in his throat.
The traffic was pretty slow moving until they got past the final light before the bridge. After that, there wouldn’t be another intersection until they were across the bridge and in Queens. Blair grinned at the sight of the seam where the city pavement gave way to the darker asphalt of the bridge.
As soon as he felt the slight bump, he leaned his shoulders forward and the bike accelerated with a scream of the engine, a guttural cry of excitement for the stretch of open road. The arms around his waist cinched for an instant before Wren adapted his grip to their speed. He wasn’t holding on to Blair in the deathgrip he expected from someone who had never been on a motorcycle, let alone a street bike that sliced through the air as his did now. He mirrored Blair in leaning forward and held on just tight enough for Blair to feel the slightest pull of fingers curled into his shirt.
The wind brought with it the briny smell of the East River below. He felt Wren’s head turn, the side of his head pressing against Blair’s back and he wondered what the experience was like for him, if he was breathing in the same scent or turning to take in the view of the city flashing by. He pulled back on the throttle again and Wren’s arms folded around him just a little tighter. He was surprised by the sudden lightness in his stomach that had nothing to do with their speed. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know how long it had been since he had been this close to someone. Wren wasn’t embracing him out of intimacy but his hold on Blair’s waist, the weight of him against his back, it was oddly grounding.
Blair felt the telltale bump of transition as they came off the bridge. He hung a right, leading them away from Wren’s hospital, away from his own Flushing and the comfort of being in his territory there. There was still a salty tang in the air as they rode parallel to the water.
They glided to a stop in a parking space for the Gantry Plaza State Park. He waited until Wren got up before he stretched and pulled his shirt away from his back where it had gone tacky from the added heat of Wren’s body. He didn’t mind, especially not on the waterfront where it was cooler. It was a little embarrassing how slow he got to his feet but he figured that was better than doing it too fast and falling right back onto the seat. Standing wasn’t the greatest feeling ever but, after testing some of his weight on both legs at the same time, Blair found it was bearable.
“What did you think of your first time on a motorcycle?” he asked.
Wren turned away from the railing overlooking the river to face him and Blair didn’t really hear his reply, distracted by the flush of color the wind had brought to Wren’s face, by how much of a disaster his hair had been blown into. He wasn’t paying attention to what Wren was saying, but he was aware of the rhythm of his voice rising and falling like Blair’s own chest, taking his mind back to “Blair, shut up.”
Keeping a hand on the railing let him walk much like he did when he had his crutches, if not a bit slower. His limp felt even more obvious next to Wren’s unhindered stride but at least the other man wasn’t walking especially fast.
“So,” he started. So, I thought you were going to kiss me…and I thought I was going to let you. “Which side of the water do you live on?”
“The other side. I certainly didn’t walk across the Queensboro Bridge to get to class.”
Blair ignored the sarcasm. “Seems like a nice school.”
“Blair.”
He hoped Wren couldn’t see him tense, didn’t somehow know that it made him think about what happened in the car, or even if Wren regarded that moment as anything significant.
Satisfied that he had Blair’s attention, Wren asked, “Are you concerned that oxygen levels will deplete if you don’t fill the air with pointless small talk?”
“Well sue me for wanting to get to know you better, asshole.” He wasn’t sure if the heat in his face was more from embarrassment or indignation at Wren’s attitude.
Wren moved from Blair’s side to stand in front of him— right in front of him—forcing them both a stop. He leaned sideways against the railing with a smirk. “Look who’s taking our date so seriously, I’m flattered.”
Blair turned away before Wren could read the thoughts that were probably written all over his face. He couldn’t even say it wasn’t a date when he’d failed to deny it himself on the phone earlier. “If you’re flattered then maybe you could stop being such a dick.” He folded his arms on the railing and looked out at the city.
Wren dismissed the words that might have offended anyone else with a huff of breath that almost resembled a laugh. Blair tried to hold on to his frustration but that weird noise had him fighting a smile. He looked over when Wren leaned next to him. The breeze coming off the river blew Wren’s bangs away from his eyes, and Blair almost wanted to punch him one good time so his face matched his busted personality.
“So, why Incindious?” Wren asked.
It was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean, ‘why?’”
“Tell me how you ended up in a gang. You aren’t suited to it.”
Blair weighed those words before he answered. They weren’t said with any particular malice, or any detectable emotion at all. He traced a deep scratch in the metal railing. The truth of the statement bothered him more than he expected. He didn’t like senseless violence or having a reputation that people feared, he didn’t get the same high from it that Felix did. Spencer was their most rational member and even he seemed to enjoy the power that came with the boundless information he held.
“They were my family when no one else wanted to be. I was angry and isolated, and Felix took me in.”
Wren clicked his tongue and looked away. “You already had a family.”
“I didn’t fit with them anymore and they were all just fine without me.” A familiar bitterness welled in his chest. “So I’ve got my own family now.”
“I wonder how Tristan would feel about that.”
Blair’s head snapped to the side and he glared at Wren’s profile. Wren had no right to say that, but what he implied wasn’t wrong and that infuriated Blair more than the words themselves. His outlook would hurt his little brother. When he struck out on his own to get away from his mom and stepdad, he left Tristan and his little sister Hope behind, too. He had done it without a second thought. As soon as he had gone under the needle and sat up with the Incindious insignia on his chest, everything else became second priority. Even his family.
“I was there when he needed me.” Not that I have to explain myself to you, he thought, but he didn’t know if he meant it more toward Wren or himself.
“How heroic,” Wren said dryly.
Blair sighed. It seemed Wren was more interested in teasing than truly antagonizing him. He pushed away from the railing and turned to the sidewalk. His frustration with Wren aside, he had asked him out and he doubted just standing there was much fun.
His movement was halted by Wren’s sudden presence in front of him. Wren put his hands on the railing on either side of his waist, trapping him in place. Blair leaned back, his only option since pushing forward would crush his body against Wren’s and...yeah. That would only lead to trouble.
“You’re going to put too much strain on your leg if you keep traipsing around on it.”
Blair chuckled. “Aw, you do care.”
When he looked up, they were standing close enough for him to see the almost undetectable furrowing of Wren’s brow. Blair watched him curiously. He didn’t like being pinned to the railing and he didn’t think it was an appropriate position to be in with all the people around, but he set it aside for a moment to take in that tiny reaction, as brief as a record skipping and just as easily missed. Intentional or not it was satisfying to get a reaction, as often as Wren mouthed off to him.
Wren leaned in, further enclosing Blair in the cage of his arms and making him wish he had taken advantage of Wren’s brief lapse of composure to get away. He couldn’t think straight when they were this close.
“Tell me something,” Wren said quietly.
Blair scowled. Stupid Wren and his stupid voice. “What?”
“Why did you want to see me again?”
Wren was close enough for his hair to tickle Blair’s cheek when the wind blew it away from his face, so he knew there was no evading the eyes that pinned him down, searching for an answer he himself hadn’t found. He just hadn’t expected Wren to wonder the same thing. No—he hadn’t expected him to care.
Wren pressed him when he didn’t answer. “You came into the ER with a gunshot wound the same night a body was found in the warehouse district, burned beyond all recognition.” The summer day couldn’t keep Blair from going cold. In all the chaos, he had never thought about what happened to Adrian after Spencer shot him. The memory of Felix’s wild eyes as he rolled a cigarette between his fingers flashed in his mind. Wren continued, “That has Incindious written all over it. I wouldn’t think you would have time for this.”
His words raised more questions than Blair could answer to himself, let alone to both of them. What was this , anyway? One thing had just been leading to another between them. It was true that it wasn’t an ideal time to be pursuing whatever the hell this was but his growing interest in Wren had started to blend in with his other issues at some point, too seamlessly for him to notice until then. He couldn’t remember when he had stopped thinking about how he couldn’t afford to be distracted. The realization shocked him into such a long silence that Wren filled it again, with a surprising lack of his usual impatience.
“I don’t care if Incindious burned that man. You’re part of a criminal gang, not the neighborhood watch. I wouldn’t expect much different from your people. But you.” His voice lowered as if he was saying something unsuited for passerby to hear, and the tingle it elicited in Blair’s stomach was an unsettling combination with the chill that still hadn’t left him. “You don’t make sense, Blair. You fascinate me.”
Blair looked around, paranoid even though he knew Wren’s low tone would get lost on the wind long before it ever reached the ears of a bystander. He looked back up at Wren once he was satisfied no one had heard.
“Incindious will always be my first priority.” And just who are you trying to remind of that? asked a nagging voice in the back of his mind. “Like I said earlier, I want to get to know you better. Despite your devil-may-care bullshit.”
Wren’s gaze drifted and Blair’s stomach clenched when it settled on his lips. His palms started sweating where he gripped the railing. Part of him wanted space between them but another almost hoped Wren would make good on what his eyes promised. Another, even smaller part that seemed to have developed a recent penchant for bad ideas, said Man up and do it yourself, then. He ignored that one the most fervently.
Wren made that sound that was almost a laugh again and stepped back. “Whatever you say, Blair.”
Blair didn’t bother pointing out they had given each other almost the same reasons for wanting to see each other again, too relieved by finally having some air to breathe that Wren wasn’t standing in. He half expected there to be people staring at them but their little encounter hadn’t drawn any attention that he noticed. He guessed from an outside perspective they just looked like a couple on a date, standing close and talking low because that’s what couples did. He wasn’t sure if that thought embarrassed him more or less than the idea of their conversation appearing conspicuous. Wren didn’t seem to have given it a second thought; he was already walking away, back the way they came.
“You wanna go somewhere else?” Blair offered.
“I want to go home so that you’ll stop walking around on that leg like there isn’t a hole in it.”
Blair sighed but he felt the sides of his mouth pulling up. He couldn’t be upset with the nagging, not when he had been conditioned by Incindious’ own resident mother figure and when it clearly came from a place of concern, whether Wren would own up to it or not. Having Wren’s frigid ass worry about him was almost cute.
“Alright, Sunshine. Home it is.”
He chuckled at Wren clicking his tongue in annoyance, and not just because Blair was becoming endeared to the sound. Yeah, pretty boy, two can play at the button-pushing game. They didn’t say much else on the walk back to his bike but the silence was kind of nice. Companionable, even.
Blair was about to throw a leg over the bike when lithe fingers hooked in his belt loops and turned him around. He stumbled slightly, one hand falling to the seat behind him and the other one bracing in front of him when his body threatened to tip forward from the sudden change in position. His support from the front turned out to be Wren, his tank top bunched up where Blair gripped it. He didn’t have time to let go before Wren was drawing him closer, sending his heart into a staccato rhythm pounding in his ears.
Blair was holding on to Wren’s shirt, it would be easy enough to push him back.
But Blair wasn’t pushing, he was pulling. Pulling Wren in.
Wren leaned down. “Blair—”
A tingle ran up Blair’s leg that wasn’t just excitement. He jumped, and immediately sighed as he recognized the vibration of his cell phone. He slid it out just enough to look at the screen. Spencer. Damn, he couldn’t ignore it. He gave Wren an apologetic look and put the phone to his ear. Wren didn’t respond, but he didn’t move, either. Their faces were so close that Wren’s breathing would probably be audible on the other end of the line. Blair’s was probably louder, though. Their proximity wasn’t doing much to let his heart slow down.
Wren’s eyes followed his lips as Blair said, “Hey, Spencer.”
There was no teasing or airy greeting. Spencer’s tone was as cold and hard as a knife, and his words cut just as deep. “You need to get to the bar right now. Adam was attacked. It’s bad, Blair. It’s really bad.”