Chapter Eleven #2
Atticus' second shot at sleep came on the flight home. Too many thoughts raced through his head. He hadn’t messaged Foster the entire time he had been gone.
Atticus didn’t know why. Maybe he couldn’t bring Foster into this ugliness.
Or maybe he didn’t want to deal with anything over the phone.
Atticus couldn’t think straight. He had known exactly how easily he could dispose of his uncle.
The plan had been in place for years. Atticus simply hadn’t pulled the trigger before now…
or silently snapped his neck. That was a lot less mess, and also why the length of cleanup baffled him.
Meh. He wasn’t an authority on those things.
Unfortunately, Atticus didn’t feel like much of an expert when it came to Foster either.
But he had no doubt Foster would blow up at him the moment they saw each other.
Atticus had made this decision knowing Foster would be furious.
As long as Atticus kept Foster safe, that was okay. He would take his punishment.
Every time Atticus pictured Foster’s face, all he saw was overshadowed by his feelings.
A small part of him wanted to be angry at Foster for making him feel things he never had.
After all, he had gotten along fine in life without this addiction gnawing at him.
Love. Gah. How crass. Yet here he was, turning his entire life upside down for one man.
He would fucking kill anyone who as much as hurt Foster’s feelings.
Atticus had no clue how Foster managed to be this badass part of an infamous group like Killers Inc.
Yet he was also the gentle giant he didn’t want to be.
While Foster had been busy seeing Atticus in a way no one ever had, Atticus had done the same.
They were an enigma of sorts. Somehow, they were perfect.
Now he was tired and had a cranky Foster waiting for him at home.
That was another damn thing. When had Hawaii so easily become home?
He had even made arrangements for Kirkland to get the house ready to be sold, his car collection moved, and then join him in Hawaii.
The rest of the staff would get a decent severance check and great references.
It had been difficult for him not to show how important Kirkland had been to him over the years.
Kirkland had played his part as the cold butler to perfection.
Now it was time for Kirkland to come live the easy life he deserved with him in Hawaii.
Beau approved, of course. That thought sent him spinning in a hundred more directions.
Why was Beau Bosi being so accommodating?
Atticus knew he had a suspicious mind, but nothing was ever this simple for him.
His inner musings carried him all the way to the Hawaii Bosi compound.
Atticus’ heart beat faster as Tidy pulled into the garage.
They looked equally wiped of all energy and didn’t speak as they went their separate ways.
Atticus would make time to thank him later.
He had already wired Tidy a huge sum of money even though Tidy had declined Atticus’ offer to pay him.
Tracker had the ability to move money into all the brothers’ accounts.
Atticus didn’t need permission to pay his debts.
Kindness always felt suspect to him. In his heart, he knew Tidy’s intentions were good.
It was Atticus. There were things he couldn’t change about himself.
Then there was everything he felt for the man in their bedroom.
The first glimpse of Foster made him want to break down. He sat on the balcony in their spot. Atticus crossed the room and stepped out. Foster didn’t as much as glance his way.
Atticus set his hands on Foster’s shoulders and squeezed. “Hey.”
Foster still didn’t turn his head.
Atticus panicked a little. “I told you I’d be back. Sorry I didn’t text or call.”
Foster shrugged. “It’s not like you ever talk to me, so it’s whatever.”
Oh, he was for real upset. Atticus moved to his side and sat in his usual chair.
He shifted its position until he faced Foster.
His heart dropped at his first sight of Foster’s face.
He looked sad. That broke Atticus in a way no one would ever see.
“I’ve always been willing to talk about anything you’d like.
You know I’m not good at being—” Atticus swiped his hand through the air.
He wouldn’t make excuses. “What do you want to know?”
“Twelve? Why didn’t you tell me this has been going on for that long? When you talked about fighting lessons and all that, I thought you were an adult. It definitely sounded like you were in charge of financing some instructor.”
“Kirkland as well.”
That confession didn’t make things better. Foster’s face contorted with rage. “Why did you have to pay them? Why don’t you talk to me?”
Atticus really was terrible at making other people happy.
It seemed Foster hadn’t been the exception Atticus had thought him to be.
“Tracker stopped talking to me once because he said I treated him like he was expected to just sit around and wait for whatever crumbs of attention I chose to give him. I love you. I don’t want to make you feel like the focus is always on me.
But I don’t know what I’m doing. It feels like I’m not doing the right thing no matter how hard I try.
I’m sorry I’m failing at this. You’re the one place I wanted to be perfect. ”
“I love you too. Please talk to me. I want to hear about you. You matter to me.”
While Atticus wanted to jump for joy and kiss Foster, he had to give Foster what he needed first.
Atticus sat forward and rubbed Foster’s thighs so he could meet his need to touch Foster and give Foster all the words.
“My mom committed suicide when I was twelve. Until then, she was really the only parent I knew. She was my dad’s status symbol, and I was too, I suppose.
We only existed to make him look like an upstanding guy.
Meanwhile, he did as he pleased, spending money on drugs, women, and toys.
While he threw wild sex parties on his yacht, my mom was at home being humiliated at every turn. ”
“That’s terrible.” Foster’s expression matched his tone. He cared.
Atticus nodded along. “That’s nowhere near the worst of it. When he was home, he acted like the perfect family man. He was so hot and cold that all my mom did was cry. When she finally accepted that she was only a bank to him, she killed herself.”
“Wait. What? I thought the money was drug money.”
“It was, somewhat. Just not on paper.” Atticus drew a deep, steady breath before continuing.
“He married my mom because she came from one of the richest families in Texas. Her dad had oil money. Then Dad really hit pay dirt when her father left everything to her when he died at fifty-five from a heart attack. While he had been well known as a huge player, he raised her as a single parent and loved her. He loved me.” Atticus had to pause to clear his throat.
This was one topic that never stopped murdering his soul.
“That’s who had been my dad in my heart.
That’s who really raised me. So, by twelve, I had lost everyone who mattered to me.
Anyhow, it turns out he had basically used her huge accounts to hide his drug money.
” Atticus laughed. “Then she left everything to me. You should’ve seen the look on his face.
He thought he was done kissing ass to keep his fortune hidden.
Now he had me. Unfortunately, I was a minor.
He didn’t have to do much other than control the finances.
If I stayed quiet, then I had full unfettered access to my mom’s portion, but he didn’t truly want that.
He didn’t want to share. So he tried to kill me, and I kept surviving.
He had to make it look like an accident or he’d lose everything he tried to gain.
That’s the real reason everything is mine and why I hired your team to kill him.
My uncle never had any right to any assets.
They were always mine, and I waited a long damn time to be rid of my dad. ”
“Wait. You hired us? Tracker told me a totally different story. He said it was your uncle was who hired us, and you wouldn’t give him the money because it was your dad’s wish for it to be yours.”
A sad smile tugged at Atticus’ lips. “That’s because that’s the story I fed him under the guise of my uncle.
You know I’m good. There’s nothing I can’t do online without a single trace leading back to me.
Especially since I played the long game while still allowing my father access to everything until the day your team stepped in.
As far as the world was concerned, we were the perfect family. ”
Foster leaned forward and swiped a sweet kiss across Atticus’ lips. “I’m so sorry, baby. You didn’t deserve to deal with all that at such a young age.”
Atticus snorted. “You’re the one who didn’t deserve everything you went through when you were a child. I still had money and the ability to do whatever I wanted. The occasional murder attempt aside, of course.”
Foster shook his head. “My childhood wasn’t as bad as the others.
Like I said, you can’t abuse someone into being a loving person.
Plus, if you’ve never had a parent to love you, then you don’t know you’re missing anything.
Everyone in that program had only known and seen other kids in the program.
We had no outside influences. We didn’t understand family dynamics.
Everything we knew outside that facility was what we learned in books.
All my brothers and I knew was we mattered to each other.
So when we left that place, we made our version of a family.
” A sad expression settled on Foster’s face.
“That’s exactly why finding out they had no blood ties to us broke Tidy and Crisp the way it did.
Those DNA tests weren’t meant to matter. They mattered.”
“Look at us having a two-way conversation about heavy topics. Hashtag winning.”
A loud laugh burst from Foster at Atticus’ bad, teenaged girl accent.
Atticus truly felt like he was winning every time he made Foster smile or laugh. He hadn’t believed this life was in the cards for him. Yet here they were.
“I truly am sorry.”
At his serious tone, Foster’s smile softened. “We’re good. You’re back. I assume everything is squared away.”
Atticus checked his watch. “Yeah. Should be. My cousin died in a boating accident about ten minutes ago. That was the last of my family.” He dropped his arm and met Foster’s stare. “You don’t have to blow this off. If you want to hunt me tonight and punish me, I understand.”
Another laugh burst from Foster at his stoic statement. “Is it punishment if you suggest it?”
Atticus shrugged. “It could be, if you do it properly.”
Foster’s jaw dropped. “Did I do it wrong last time?” He sounded hilariously scandalized.
“Do you think I’d tell you if you did?”
“Oh, that’s it.” Foster shot to his feet and snatched Atticus from his chair. He tossed Atticus over his shoulder and slapped his ass. Atticus tried not to laugh. This was Foster’s signature move, and Atticus knew exactly how to rile him up to get what he wanted.
When Foster tossed him on the bed, Atticus bounced. He couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer.
Foster leaped through the air and landed on him, bracing his weight on the way down to break his fall.
He wore a huge grin as he came down on Atticus.
Foster kissed every place he could while Atticus fought to escape.
Atticus laughed too hard to make much progress.
He ended up squashed to the bed on his stomach before the laughter turned to moans.
Atticus buried his face and used every sense just to feel.
Foster bit and kissed as he stole the bottom half of Atticus’ clothes.
Atticus’ cock had already smeared pre-cum on the bed before Foster rolled him onto his side.
Foster did all the work while Atticus savored every delicious second.
His eyes filled with unexpected tears when Foster slowly pressed his way inside from behind and made love to Atticus.
That was definitely what it was. He rocked while kissing Atticus’ shoulder and neck.
Atticus fought to keep the tears from falling.
He didn’t understand his emotions. It felt strange to be moved the way he was.
It was just everything about the situation, about them, and how far they had come.
Foster was deeply burrowed inside Atticus’ heart.
Sometimes, Atticus didn’t know how to express the bottomless emotions he had never felt before.
He had lived his life looking over his shoulder and keeping people at arm’s length.
“I love you.”
The whispered words against his hair broke Atticus. The tears fell. He sniffed. “I love you too.”
Foster grabbed his chin and turned Atticus' face so he could see it, as if he needed to know for sure Atticus was crying.
His obvious concern had Atticus confessing something he never thought he would. “I didn’t think anyone could love me.”
Foster pulled out and rolled Atticus onto his back before going back to making love to him. “You’re so fucking worthy.” Foster held his stare—like he needed Atticus to see how much he meant the words. “I can’t believe I found you.”
A watery laugh escaped Atticus. “Technically, I found you.”
An aggravated-sounding growl came from the back of Foster’s throat before he kissed Atticus in the fierce way Atticus loved.
He never tired of getting under Foster’s skin.
His body wound tighter by the second, stealing all his thoughts.
When the tension burst into ecstasy, Atticus saw them clearer than he ever had.
They weren’t two screwed-up men just trying to find their way.
Foster and he knew exactly what they were after: a flawless life together.
That was exactly what Atticus would give Foster.
He didn’t have to worry that Atticus would ever leave again.