Chapter 11 Landing Gear #5
“And all she wanted was for him to come home. He couldn’t, of course.
He said, ‘How can I come home when I have to look up to see rock bottom.’ But that whole moment there—my father was a drunk, and he drove his car off a fucking bridge, but we all still loved him.
You would not believe the grief we got, coming up through school, me mum too—because we still loved him.
So I guess I told my family about Lightfingers because I couldn’t tell Interpol about him, and because I couldn’t tell them about the things I did legally for Interpol.
And because he was proof, you know? That our love wasn’t misplaced, even when our father, God rest him, was a flawed, flawed man. ”
Liam’s voice cracked, and Josh set his food down and moved closer to him, resting his hand on Liam’s thigh.
“Why,” he asked softly, “would you think that sort of forgiveness wouldn’t extend to you?”
Liam sighed and leaned his head against Josh’s. “All the people in my old neighborhood,” he whispered, “worked their arses off to get by. Me? I slept with the right bloke.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, “but at the time, wouldn’t you have wanted the happy ending instead?”
“Probably,” Liam admitted. “But then there was Marrakech. And my idea of perfect… changed.”
“Good,” Josh said happily.
Liam turned his head and kissed Josh’s crown. “You think that includes you?”
Josh leaned back so he could smile into those merry blue eyes. “I don’t even imagine it wouldn’t,” he said archly, and Liam laughed and wrapped his arm around Josh’s shoulders.
“How much do your siblings know about me?” he asked.
“Well, they don’t know we’re sleeping together yet,” Liam said.
Josh stared at him. “Liam. We left them alone with Grace and Molly.”
Liam groaned. “God. Yeah. Sorry.”
“At this point they know I’m circumcised, and Grace can tell them how much you snore.”
Liam scrubbed at his face with his hands. “What do you think Molly can add?”
Josh shook his head and rolled his eyes. “There’s always the time the four of us broke into this one old bigot’s store to put all his window mannequins in compromising positions,” he hazarded.
Liam’s chuckle sounded authentic. “All four of you?”
“Well, Stirling disabled the locks, Molly dressed them all in BDSM gear, and Grace slid in through the door and let the rest of us in.”
“And you?”
Josh grinned. “My idea.” He sobered. “Also, I kept Molly from beating the shit out of the guy when he was mean to Stirling. We worked as a team.”
“Still do,” Liam said softly. “Looking forward to seeing Stirling tomorrow.”
“He’s excited about running point,” Josh said.
“And Grace and Molly?”
“Wherever needed,” Josh said staunchly, and then, in the interest of truth telling, added, “Or, in Grace’s case, wherever chaos will be most entertaining.”
Liam shrugged, resigned. “Going to have to trust the boy sometime.”
Josh smiled. “My whole life. Once—only once—has he really, really crossed a line, but he won’t do that again.”
“What happened?” Liam asked.
Josh shook his head. “I’m done with secrets. Let’s run through the job a few more times and go to bed. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
Liam nodded. “Fair. Will he tell me?”
“He would,” Josh said, “for me. But it’s like that alley in Morocco. There are some moments we would really just rather keep to ourselves. Life’s complicated, Liam. You of all people should know that.”
“God, you’re older than your years,” Liam muttered.
Josh had nothing to say to that, so this time he took the plates to the kitchen, and they went through the job three more times before bedtime.
JOSH WOKE up at seven that morning because Grace was watching him sleep.
“Are we doing this again?” he asked his pillow, not wanting to move from under Liam’s protective arm over his backside. For such a sweet guy, Liam had a streak of protectiveness in him, and Josh wasn’t going to argue with that one bit.
“Of course we are,” Grace told him. “I thought that was part of our agreement. We would always do that. Remember when you showed up at Hunter’s apartment, broke in, watched us sleeping, and then went back out and did us the courtesy of knocking?”
Josh scowled, not wanting to remember that night. He’d been so scared for his friend, so relieved when Hunter had been the one to find him, had grounded him, convinced him that nothing he’d done was so terrible that Hunter couldn’t love him.
“If you’d called,” he grumbled, “that wouldn’t have had to happen.”
“My bad,” Grace said, meaning it. “But see? Turnabout’s fair play.”
“It’ll be turnabout if Liam ever tries to sneak out of my flat with my wallet.”
Grace grunted. “That was only a couple of guys.”
“Yeah. And they were all stupid. What are you doing here again, besides creeping me out?”
“I wanted to warn you. Liam’s mom’s on the way with, like, breakfast in a cooler and grandkids and two sisters and Robert. By the way, Molly’s got it bad for Robert. Please tell me he’s as straight as he seems to be.”
“Like an arrow,” Liam mumbled from Josh’s side.
“Really?” Josh said, this news surprising him more than the mother on her way. “That’s amazing. I feel like we’ve finally broken the curse.”
“Glad to sacrifice a sibling,” Liam said, removing his arm (damn!) and sitting up, scrubbing at his face. “When did you say my entire family is coming?”
Grace squinted, and Josh wasn’t surprised to see he already had an earpiece in.
“Well, Molly asked to drive Robert’s tiny car, so she misrouted the whole family by going the wrong way down some road I can’t remember.
I think you’ve got about ten minutes. Josh, your dragon breath could knock a murder bird out of the sky. Go groom.”
“Our equipment’s still on the coffee table,” Josh grumbled. “If I’m gonna groom, you need to best man.”
“Was there ever a doubt?” Grace asked. “I’ll even steal the rings.”
“That’s my boo,” Josh told him, grabbing some clothes from his suitcase.
“So, Liam,” Grace said as Josh headed for the bathroom. “Did you ever break fifteen seconds?”
“No,” Liam said, and Josh could hear the peevishness in his voice.
“What was Josh’s record?”
“Nine point five,” Liam said reluctantly.
“Mine’s seven. Get dressed. Don’t worry if I see you naked. I have a boyfriend—it’s all academic appreciation at this point.”
“Josh!” Liam complained, but Josh was ducking into the shower for a quick one at that point because Liam had to learn to fend for himself.
Fourteen hours later, in the Caribbean
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m the ringer for Molly,” Lucius muttered, and Chuck’s low laugh made him want to ruffle his feathers like a duck.
“Well,” Chuck said, “next to Michael, you’ve got the slightest build, and Michael’s walk is too….” He didn’t want to say prison, but his old boyfriend—and the love of Carl’s life—had spent two years incarcerated, trying to make himself as slouchy and small and unobtrusive as possible.
Chuck had the sad feeling it hadn’t worked, but Carl seemed to make the man happy now, and that’s all Chuck ever wanted.
Unfortunately, being happy for the two of them wasn’t enough to keep Lucius out of drag.
The key, they’d decided, was to have one ringer for each pair of them.
The crew was all so distinctive in their looks.
A few simple cosmetic changes and some quick flights of fancy, and anybody trying to keep track of who was responsible for the Lightfingers’ crimes and the Kadjic sabotage was bound to be thoroughly confused.
And—as the four Salingers had been very adamant about—the actual crew would never be recognized in Kadjic’s circles. Ever.
Which meant Lucius now sported long blond locks, padding in his leggings, and a modest set of breasts, as well as some subtle makeup.
Chuck said he looked adorable and charming, but hopefully because Chuck knew what the special jock was tucking under, as that was Chuck’s leaning in a mate.
“So,” Lucius said, twiring the umbrella in his fancy drink, “we know which boats are going out to the island, right?”
“Yup,” Chuck said, eyeballing the very unsavory batch of merchant sailors as they loaded up their cargo. His and Lucius’s balcony perch overlooked the bay of Saint Kitts and Nevis, the small island with an even smaller island about ten miles off its eastern shore.
Lucius saw one of them, who would look very much like Hunter if Hunter had short blond hair—which he did now—make a quiet move with his hand against his thigh. Chuck sighed, running his fingers through his own newly brown hair.
Next to Hunter, Michael—who had rainbow sprinkles in his own dark hair, much like Grace—gave a little nod, and together they finished loading the guns on the doomed ship.
“Not that I don’t love your company,” Lucius murmured, “but don’t you have something you should be doing?”
Chuck winked and stood graciously, like a swain called regretfully away from a date.
He bent to kiss Lucius—an honest kiss between them, in spite of the subterfuge—and said, “Don’t forget it’s got to be the roof of the hotel room or your satellite won’t connect.
We need you to have eyes on us to send Carl to go pick us up. ”
“You mean I shouldn’t let the four of you die in the middle of the Caribbean?” Lucius asked tartly.
“That would be preferable, yes,” Chuck said, mimicking Lucius’s precise tones. Before Lucius could pout, Chuck said, loud enough to be heard, “Don’t worry about the check, darlin’, I’ll pay on my way out. I’ll call you, ’kay?”
Lucius cocked his head and gave Chuck a “you asshole” glare from heavily mascaraed—and admittedly mysterious—hazel eyes, and Chuck winked and trotted out of the restaurant, making sure to pay in cash on his way.
Three hours later, Lucius was on the rooftop lounge of his and Chuck’s carefully chosen hotel, his own earwig catching the chatter between Chuck, Hunter, and Michael as they, each on their own ship on the way to Kadjic’s new gunrunning center, decided on the specific form of sabotage for each engine room.
The boats—hastily gathered by Kadjic’s crew to make up for the debacle in early January that had put a decent-sized dent in his operation—were a mismatched fleet of junkers if Lucius had ever seen one.
But they represented three cargo holds full of high-profile deadly weapons, and if those bad boys could sink, and the cargo on the island could be destroyed, Kadjic’s gunrunning would be permanently underwater.
Lucius listened, resisting the urge to gnaw on his cuticles until they bled, until he heard Michael and Chuck say, in tandem, “Say the word and we can set a five-minute fuse.”
Then Hunter said, “Fuck it. I’m using the C-4.”
“Just like I told you,” Chuck murmured.
“Shut up, Chuck,” Hunter said. “Give me three more minutes.”
In Lucius’s head—and only in Lucius’s head—Danny’s voice said softly, “Operation Rembrandt complete, signature engaged. How’re we doing?”
“Three to five min—” Lucius began, and then, on his screen, one of the three dots he was following disappeared. Far out on the horizon, a ball of flame could be seen erupting from somewhere on the wickedly blue ocean.
“Lucius?” Danny asked.
“Come on,” Lucius muttered, and he heard a cacophony of voices. “Hunter? Michael? Chuck? Who the fuck was that? Hunter! Are you there! Michael? Fuck-fuck-fuck. Chuck!”
And then, cold as iced steel, came Carl’s voice. “Hunter’s fine. Michael, Chuck, blow your loads. Nobody laughs. Not a soul.”
“Exiting now!” Chuck and Michael called, and the next two minutes were full of panting breaths and chaos as, presumably, Chuck and Michael hauled ass up to the deck of the two cargo freighters and lunged off their respective starboard sides.
“Lucius!” Danny demanded.
“I’m waiting!” Lucius gasped, suddenly aware that he’d been holding his breath. “One of the ships went early!”
Another moment of hoarded oxygen, and then Carl said, “Lucius, I’ve got them. Sorry—I got wind on another channel that Hunter had been made. I sort of blew a hole in his ship before they could converge on him while he was installing the C-4.”
“Hunter?” Lucius said in surprise.
“I’m fine,” Hunter grumbled. “Carl, it’s official. We’re brothers. Paperwork’s in the mail.”
Michael’s breathless laughter could be heard. “You guys—always underestimating him, I swear.”
And then Chuck’s own coughing and sputtering. “Well, he is the best-looking blond of the lot of us.”
“I’ll carry that compliment to my grave,” Carl said dryly. “Okay, now that I’ve used one of my RPGs, does anybody have an idea how to blow the guns on the island up?”
Chuck cackled, presumably rifling through the supplies Carl had been loading up on his small cabin cruiser as the others had been infiltrating the cargo ships.
“Don’t worry, brother,” he said happily. “We’re in my wheelhouse now.”
“Lucius?” Danny enquired delicately.
“Fine,” Lucius said, feeling faint. “They’re fine. They’re on to stage two. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s all good.”
“How are you doing?” Danny asked, his voice kind.
“I finally understand,” Lucius said in wonder.
“What?”
“Why Molly’s so dead set against boob sweat.”
Danny’s cackle sounded a little unhinged, but then, why wouldn’t it.
“I’ll tell them to engage,” he said. “Let me know when stage two is complete.”
“Sure,” Lucius said. “Dear God. Next time, I want to be on the ship!”