Chapter Six
Life was always too silent. Way, way too devoid of all noise and joy.
Leaned back in his office chair, Atticus didn’t see anything except the picture Foster made whispering his name as he had come.
He wished that was the only memory he had left the Bosi compound with.
As sexy as watching Foster had been, the despair in the air had choked him.
Even as pleasure had overtaken Foster, he still had no life in him.
Hearing the things he said to one of his brothers, Atticus felt weaker than ever.
The way Foster exposed himself was the bravest thing Atticus had ever witnessed.
Men like them didn’t admit to feeling anything of significance.
Emotions got people dead. He wasn’t sure if he even cared any longer what happened to him.
His company would run without him. He was as useless here as a hairy ass.
No one needed that. If he dropped dead tomorrow, everything would continue to run smoothly the way it did every day.
His estate would keep everyone paid. Kirkland would get the house he already practically owned.
Not a single damn thing would even pause for a moment of silence.
His only reason for living was to be a thorn in his uncle’s side.
The only happiness he ever found was in taunting Butch with the money he would never get.
His mom wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way.
Still, life was pretty goddamn empty. It was as if Foster had spoken both their truths during that call.
Atticus didn’t enjoy having his bullshit out to inspect.
He was good at lying to himself while moving forward.
There was something about Foster. Atticus couldn’t let him go.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what had happened at four thirty in the morning.
Foster had walked onto Beau’s private plane and hadn’t looked back.
It seemed after Beau learned Foster tried booking a peasant flight, he had ordered Foster to take his plane.
None of his people would ever stoop to coach.
Atticus shuddered at the idea. He, too, would rather die first. Unfortunately, no matter the mode of transportation, Foster was gone.
Seth softly knocked before bringing him a cup of coffee from his favorite café.
Atticus watched him, feeling nothing. He had no idea how long he sat there after Seth left.
The intercom buzzed, yanking him from his thoughts. “Sir, you can’t— I mean, what the fuck?”
Atticus listened to the running commentary through the line. He was only slightly curious. If someone was here to kill him, they needed to get in line. There was always a queue.
The door flew open, and Tracker stormed in. “You broke my—” He stopped dead. “Oh, babe. What’s wrong?”
Despite his mood, Atticus smiled. Tracker was one of a kind.
He couldn’t get angry enough to hold on to the rage needed for more than ten minutes.
“Oh, you know.” Atticus straightened in his seat.
He was doing it again. Tracker had obviously come here to ream Atticus out.
Atticus had been ready to immediately make everything about himself.
He forced his pain down, the way he always did.
“I’m fine. What’s wrong? It’s okay to tear into me.
Fair warning, though. I might be just as in the dark as you are. ”
Tracker sat. With the desk between them, Tracker’s gaze moved over Atticus as if he saw everything.
Atticus wasn’t good at these types of things.
He focused on something he could handle.
Seth hovered in the doorway, looking like he didn’t know what to do.
He wasn’t supposed to let anyone inside Atticus’ office.
Atticus imagined Seth had never dealt with anyone like the hard-headed Agafonov brothers…
except for Atticus, of course. He dealt with that shit daily.
“It’s fine, Seth. He’s my friend.”
“Oh.”
Atticus almost laughed. That “oh” said so much. Seth wasn’t surprised to learn Atticus’ one and only friend was as psychotic as Atticus was.
He shut the office door without another word, leaving Atticus to deal with Tracker’s wrath.
Tracker looked unsure of himself now that he sat with Atticus. That didn’t stop him from jumping right in. “What happened between Foster and you? Yesterday, he was excited to see you, then boom. Gone with no explanation. I’ve never seen him run so fast from anything in his life, and he’s a runner.”
Atticus drew a steadying breath. He could do this.
“Nothing. He came over last night. It took him all of five minutes to see what it is about me that makes everyone loathe me, and then he was out. I’m pretty sure I said fewer than a dozen words.
But I appreciate that you automatically knew I was the problem.
” He took a drink of his coffee to wash down the bitterness.
Tracker deflated. “Atty, I didn’t mean to—”
Atticus made a dismissive gesture, cutting him off. “Don’t feel guilty. I’m sure it was my fault somehow. Apparently, I am not what he’s looking for. I don’t know why that sent him running off to Hawaii, though.”
Tracker’s eyebrows snapped together. “I never said that.”
Atticus held his stare without blinking. “Who are you talking to right now?”
Tracker’s body melted into the chair, as if all his muscles gave out at the same time. “Fuck. This is all my fault.”
It was Atticus’ turn to get snappy. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not the one who isn’t enough and won’t be who he needs or whatever fucking nonsense he spouted at me. I can’t even remember. It’s been a rough week.”
Tracker didn’t take the out Atticus offered.
“You don’t understand. Zeus and Ridge wanted to know if they were twins, since they look so much alike.
The next thing I knew, we were creating this database and getting hyped at the idea of finding out the truth of everyone’s parentage.
We had all the guys roped in, except Foster didn’t really want to have the test done.
We decided as a family, if one person didn’t want to know, then we wouldn’t take the test. Ridge and Zeus had been adamant.
They were pretty desperate to know if they were brothers.
I know Foster didn’t want to do it and only caved for them.
But if I hadn’t offered to help them find out, we wouldn’t be here. ”
Atticus didn’t understand the issue. “Isn’t he your brother? Why would he hold any resentment over that?”
Tracker winced. “Out of all of us, Foster has only really let himself get close with the cleanup crew, since it was his job to stay glued to Tidy and Crisp. In his heart, those were his brothers. Then the test showed Crisp and Tidy are the only ones not blood-related to any of us.” Tracker made a helpless gesture.
“I guess it solidified their feelings about not really being part of the family. I wish like hell I had noticed that before handing out those results. They were so brokenhearted. Every time I think about it, I feel like shit. Anyhow, all this happened while we were at Beau’s place in Hawaii.
They chose to stay behind, and Foster has never really forgiven me for it.
Of course, he’d never say that. That would be confessing he feels anything. He’d never let that happen.”
Tracker’s story made Foster’s phone call make a lot more sense.
A sad smile pulled at the corners of Atticus’ lips.
“Sorry. Still not on you. It seems I said the right combination of words to make him realize he had wasted his time with me. I’m what he couldn’t get away from fast enough.
” The admission had a sharp pain blooming in his chest. He swore the air got too thick to draw into his lungs.
Two breaths of no oxygen had Atticus doing something he never did: panic.
Tracker shot to his feet. “Seth!”
Atticus heard Tracker yelling Seth’s name at the top of his lungs, but the shout sounded like it came from a distance.
Everything was muffled. He heard the way he struggled for breath, and everything was slightly blurry.
His brain had gone fuzzy without the air he couldn’t get.
He stared at Tracker hovering over him. Other muffled shouts went on around him.
He couldn’t think. As the room darkened, Atticus’ mind was at its clearest. He was dying, and all he felt was relief.
Three days by the pool, chilling in the sun, had helped his mood slightly.
Talking to Crisp also lightened the weight crushing him, but for some reason, Crisp went missing every day for hours at a time.
He got weird about it anytime Foster asked what was up, so he dropped it.
Maybe Mercury was in the microwave, or whatever people said, getting everyone in their feelings.
“Tracker’s here.”
At Scout’s shout, Foster held his arm out and waved to let Scout know he had heard him.
It hadn’t even been a week since he saw Tracker.
Foster doubted the guy expected him to jump to greet him.
The entire family would be here by the end of next week.
He had suspected they would trickle in a little at a time, incapable of the patience needed to wait.
Foster got back to relaxing. He closed his eyes and cleared his head of all thought. A few more days of this and all would be forgotten. He would hit a club not too far away. Maybe he would let someone take him home. Foster hadn’t done that in a long time.
A shadow fell over him, blocking the sun. Foster’s eyes shot open. His irritation spiked at having his peace cut short. He was already braced to pretend he was happy to see someone. Crisp filled the chair next to him, soothing Foster’s hackles.
“Are you done hiding for the day?”
A cute smile flashed his way. Between the blond curls, perfect smile, and the deep parentheses around Crisp’s mouth, he looked exactly like a young surfer who spent his life on the beach.
He could be in the movie business. That was exactly where Russia had intended to launch him.
Foster thought that said everything anyone needed to know about their training.
Crisp would rather clean up guts than live as a Hollywood star.
A prison was still a prison no matter how appealing it looked.
Crisp shrugged. “We’ll see. The day is still young. I might slink away again.”
A slight ache in his cheeks made Foster realize how big he smiled. He didn’t stop. “I don’t know. It seems Tracker is here. I’m sure you’ll want to catch up.”
Crisp still smiled, but it dimmed a hair. “Of course.” He reached over and brushed his hand down Foster’s forearm, as if petting him. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see your smile. Of course, I’m the only one you do that for.”
Foster snorted even though his statement was partially true. “When did you get so full of yourself?”
Crisp chuckled.
Foster turned sideways on his lounge and set his feet on the ground between their chairs. “Really, though. I’ve missed you. As much as I know you’re better off here, I’m not used to going so long without seeing you.”
Crisp held his gaze as if he took the conversation seriously. “You could always move here too. There’s nothing keeping you in Cali. Everyone visits several times a year: together and apart. I’m pretty confident the team is fully retired now with no scout or cleanup crew. You can just stay.”
Foster couldn’t say he hadn’t considered doing exactly that.
For whatever reason, a hole opened inside him each time he thought about leaving everyone behind.
He forced himself to smile again, but Foster couldn’t bring himself to brush Crisp’s suggestion aside.
Instead, he shot to his feet, tossed Crisp over his shoulder, and bolted for the pool.
He jumped in still holding on while Crisp’s laughter filled the air.
He tried to come up laughing. Instead, Crisp pushed his head back under again.
A dunking war started and went on until they were exhausted.
Tired-sounding chuckles were all they had left as they climbed from the pool.
Foster feigned seriousness. “Now, next time you’ll know better than to mess with me.”
Crisp gave a playful, aggravated growl. “I never. You messed with me first when you dragged me into the pool.”
“You mean like this.” He grabbed Crisp and tossed him back in the water.
The moment Crisp left his arms, Foster ran at full speed toward the house.
He practically leaped inside. He heard Crisp on his heels.
Crisp had popped back out of that pool like a cannon.
Foster barely breathed because he couldn’t stop laughing while he tried shutting the door on Crisp. He loudly ugly-guffawed.
“Damn. You were right to leave. I could never make you laugh like that.”
Foster released the door and turned so fast, he nearly fell from his vision swimming.
In a heap on the couch, Atticus relaxed against some pillows, looking like shit.
There were dark circles under his eyes. He was dressed in workout shorts and a baggy t-shirt, and his lips were cracked from being incredibly dry.
Foster might have wondered if he had just run headlong into his worst nightmare.
Unfortunately, his initial burst of happiness said otherwise.