Chapter 14 What He Hid #3
I caught my breath and watched Declan move. Watched the way his body shifted, balanced, controlled. Watched the sweat gleaming on his neck in the dim light from the truck's headlights.
He was fighting for me.
The realization knocked the air from my lungs. He was protecting me. Had followed me somehow, had shown up in this alley at exactly the right time, and now he was putting his already damaged body between me and someone who wanted to hurt me.
The attacker kicked back and caught Declan in the knee. He grunted and staggered, and I moved without thinking. I stepped in front of him and took the follow-up punch aimed at his head on my shoulder instead.
The impact rattled down my arm. I grabbed the attacker's wrist and twisted hard. I felt Declan move in behind me, his chest against my back for a second as he reached around to land a body shot.
The heat of him. The solid weight of him pressed against me. The smell of sweat and blood and the soap he used.
My lungs refused to work and it had nothing to do with the fight.
The attacker wrenched free and threw a spinning back fist that caught me across the cheekbone. I went down hard, hit the pavement hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs.
Declan was over me instantly. He stood between me and the attacker, taking the hits meant for me while I scrambled to get my breath back.
I saw the attacker's knee coming. Saw it aimed at Declan's head with enough force to crack his skull.
I grabbed Declan's leg and yanked hard. I pulled him down and to the side. The knee sailed past where his head had been a second before.
We hit the ground together. We were tangled up in each other, his weight half on top of me, one hand braced beside my head, the other flat on my chest. Our faces were inches apart.
His eyes locked on mine. Wide and shocked, pupils blown, breathing hard.
I could feel every point where our bodies touched. His thigh between mine, pressing against my half-hard cock. His hand flat on my chest, right over my heart that was trying to beat out of my fucking ribcage. His breath hot on my face.
Time stopped.
All I could think about was closing the distance. Tilting my head up those few inches and pressing my mouth to his. Finding out if he tasted like sweat and blood and violence. Finding out if he wanted this as much as I did.
Then the attacker kicked at us and Declan rolled off me, took the kick on his shoulder, and we were both back on our feet.
My hands were shaking. My whole body was on fire. I couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline or the feel of Declan on top of me or the way he had looked at me for that one second before everything went back to chaos.
My cock was fully hard now, pressed against my jeans in a way that would be obvious if anyone looked. If Declan looked.
I needed to end this fight before I did anything stupid.
We moved together now with some unspoken coordination that came from nowhere and everywhere. I went high. Declan went low. I feinted left. Declan came in from the right. We boxed the attacker in, working in sync like we had done this a hundred times before.
Like we knew each other's bodies and how they moved.
I threw a jab to set up distance. Declan followed with a leg kick that buckled the attacker's knee. I grabbed their arm as they stumbled forward and twisted hard. I heard bone pop. They screamed behind the mask.
Declan drove a knee into their liver. Once. Twice. The attacker folded.
We had them.
I could feel Declan beside me. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could hear his breathing, hard and fast, matching mine. I could smell the sweat on his skin mixed with blood and adrenaline.
My body was still buzzing from when we had been on the ground. From the weight of him. From the way he had looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Then the attacker pulled a knife from their jacket. Small and metal, the blade catching the light as they slashed at Declan.
They caught him across the forearm. Blood welled immediately, dark and fast.
Everything in me went cold and then hot, rage burning through the arousal.
Declan grabbed their wrist and slammed it against the wall until the knife fell and clattered on the pavement. I kicked it away, fury burning through everything else.
The attacker wrenched free and ran.
We both started after them but Declan grabbed my arm. “Let them go.”
“What? No—”
“Let them go, Troy. We're both hurt. We don't know if they have backup. We need to get out of here.”
He was right. I hated that he was right.
We stood there breathing hard, bleeding, staring at each other in the dim alley light.
His hand was still on my arm. I could feel each finger. I could feel the calluses. I could feel the blood from his cut dripping onto my sleeve.
“You followed me.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you've been disappearing every night and I needed to know where you were going. Turns out you've been lying to me.”
“I didn't lie.”
“You didn't tell me the truth. That's the same fucking thing.” I wiped blood from my mouth with the back of my hand. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Years.”
“Years.” I laughed, bitter and tired. “And you never thought to mention it? Never thought I might want to know?”
“It wasn't relevant to you.”
“Bullshit. Rafael knows. I saw him backstage with you. Patching you up like he's done it a thousand times.” The jealousy bled into my voice despite my best efforts. “But I'm not allowed to know. I'm just supposed to sit at home wondering where the fuck you disappear to every night.”
Declan's jaw tightened. “You want to talk about secrets? You've been lying to me about things since you got home. I can see it every time you look at me.”
“That's different.”
“How?”
“Because—” I stopped. Started again, trying to find words that wouldn't give me away. “Because I'm not the one who raised you. I'm not the one who's supposed to be honest.”
“That's bullshit and you know it.”
We stood there glaring at each other. Both bleeding. Both furious. Both carrying too much weight we didn't know how to set down.
“Your arm's bleeding.”
“Your ribs are worse.”
“I'm fine.”
“You're not fine. You can barely stand.” He moved closer and grabbed my jacket with his uninjured hand. “Get in the truck. We're going home. We're patching each other up. And then we're going to figure out who the fuck keeps trying to kill us.”
“I can ride my bike—”
“Troy. Get in the fucking truck.”
The command in his voice left no room for argument. It went straight through me and settled low in my stomach in a way that made my cock throb.
I got in the truck.
He grabbed my bike and lifted it into the bed like it weighed nothing, all that strength on display even bleeding and exhausted. He got in the driver's seat.
We drove home in silence.
My ribs screamed. My face throbbed. My hands were scraped raw from hitting pavement.
But all I could think about was Declan in the cage. Declan with Rafael. Declan bleeding and still strong enough to fight beside me.
Declan on top of me in that alley. His weight. His heat. The way he had looked at me with those wide shocked eyes.
Declan keeping secrets while I kept mine.
And the horrible certainty that sleeping with Rafael had proven exactly the wrong thing. It had shown me that I didn't want just anyone. I didn't want easy or uncomplicated or convenient.
I wanted Declan.
And that was the most dangerous truth of all.