Chapter 28 - Dax
DAX
Ipace through the western-style kitchen in the house I own.
That fact is still wild to me. Only a year ago, I never dreamed of owning anything other than my shitty truck.
Now, I’ve got a place to call my own where I can tear down walls, repaint the ceilings, and walk around as naked and free as I please.
Nobody can tell me what to do or how loud my subs—well, sub, singular now that I’m committed to Reed—can be.
It still seems impossible to me that outcast and outlaw Dax Sharp from bumblefuck, Wyoming, owns a three-bedroom, four-bathroom villa in Thailand of all places.
Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be so shocked.
Because I’m not Dax Sharp anymore. I’m Hank Richards to everyone—from the realtor to the neighbors to Raj and Dina, who both received sizable GoFundMe donations under that name.
Hank Richards is a nice white early retiree from the United States who needed a unique place to stretch an unexpected inheritance with his partner.
A partner who hasn’t called or texted since he left Shanghai. My phone weighs heavily in my hand as I wait for word from Reed. My patience stretches thin as I check my texts for the hundredth time.
According to his flight tracker, he landed on time in Chiang Mai. The airport is only a ten-to-fifteen-minute drive. The proximity is important to me in case we catch wind of our identities being discovered by Wendell’s goons. We can make a quick getaway to a neighboring country.
Because the threat hangs there. It will always be there. Wendell Blitz and his minions will forever be a ghost breathing down my muscular neck. But I’ll do everything in my power to keep Reed and our relationship safe.
I spent six months making contacts in Asia who could help me “start over.” They helped find us a house we could plant roots in.
Grow our relationship in. Build a life in.
Desecrate every room with our rabbit-like fucking.
I’d be rock hard and ready for Reed if I had any damn clue where he was right now.
The villa I bought for us is in a gated, semi-rural community, peaceful at all times of the day.
The two-story property is boxed in by high walls, other villas, a gate at the driveway, and a code-activated door to even get into the carport.
But I, of all people, know that even the tightest security measures aren’t impenetrable.
Try as I might, no fortress will keep us completely safe from those with a vendetta.
Almost immediately after the explosion, Reed became a public figure—the house sitter who survived what could’ve been a tragic accident.
I knew Wendell wouldn’t go after Reed in the immediate, even if he did discover what we’d taken from his safe.
Reed’s death would’ve made headline news, and Wendell would’ve found himself in the press for all the reasons he so reviled.
I’m sure he’s still basking in the success of toppling his largest competitor with such a high-profile safety issue.
People are dumping their Hadron cars in bulk.
And of course, that leaves an opening in the market for Wendell Blitz to get into the electric car game and become the new kingpin of yet another industry.
Hopefully, that keeps the creep busy enough that he leaves us the hell alone.
Wendell Blitz may have given Reed half his DNA, but he’s no father. No family.
Reed and I are family now. A unit of two. We may have done wrong, but we still deserve a happily ever after.
I rest on one of the tall chairs at the breakfast nook and try to call Reed again on the number we agreed he’d use when he arrived. The call doesn’t go through.
Eeek. The house makes a disquieting sound. I stand at attention. Every noise is a potential threat until Reed’s here, until I know he’s safe, we’re together, and I can protect him. The last six months have been torture, having him away from me, so far out of reach.
The sound comes again. I check the security cameras before my phone starts to ring.
I don’t recognize the number on the screen. I answer anyway in the hope that it’s Reed. “Hello?”
Silence.
But a loaded silence. A heavy silence.
“Hello? Who is this?” I say with more force this time.
The line goes dead with a single beep.
I shrug it off. Must’ve been a wrong number.
My text thread with Reed is still empty. In less compromising words, he told me he made it through customs in Shanghai with the doctored passport, so there’s no reason he should’ve been stopped in Chiang Mai for questioning. Worry roils in my stomach regardless.
Reed is a wealthy-looking, blond-haired, blue-eyed American.
He sticks out like a sore thumb, which I’ve already made plans for.
I’ve scheduled a dye job and a cut, gotten the name of a plastic surgeon who can make minor modifications so facial recognition software doesn’t ping us.
Were all those preparations for nothing?
The villain in my head, which I’ve gotten much better at silencing thanks to frequent meditation practices that I picked up out here, whispers softly, What if Reed is ghosting you? What if you got played?
Maybe Reed used me to escape the United States, and now that he’s safely away from Wendell Blitz’s clutches, he doesn’t need me anymore.
The settlement from Hadron brought in more money than the stolen jewels.
He could’ve played on my emotions and manipulated me, showing his true self as his father’s son.
I shake my head free of the creeping, unfounded thoughts. That can’t be. That’s not Reed. All those dirty texts and long video calls about our future and sleepy I love yous before bed don’t amount to some grand deception. I know Reed is honest. If he told me he’d be here, he’ll be here.
Soon, I hope. Very soon. Before I pull out all my hair with worry.
My fingers itch to check the local police blotter or call the airport asking after Pete Dent, a homage to Nova Ranger’s civilian name, Dennis Peters.
But I know I shouldn’t draw attention to what might very well be a non-issue.
Reed is a big boy. He can handle himself.
Maybe he stopped for a bite in the airport, not realizing how close he is to our house.
A splash sounds from the back, where the pool is.
Outside, the sticky heat of a rainless day has fizzed off, temperature dropping into the more comfortable mid-eighties. The fan over the covered outdoor table that seats six clicks overhead, circulating the remaining mugginess around me.
The pool water still ripples a tad from an object dropped in, now sitting at the bottom. I strip down, dive in, and retrieve a tan stone arrowhead. Not sharp enough to be a weapon but menacing all the same. Where did this come from?
My phone starts ringing. I haul ass out of the deep end and answer the call at the last second. “Hello?”
“You have something I want back,” a deep, robotic voice says. It sounds as if it’s been run through a distorting effect.
I turn the discovered stone over in my hand.
Arrowhead. Arrow Mart.
Has Wendell Blitz found me already?
My heart sprints off as I consider this.
I know he said on that video call six months ago that he knows all, but this time, I made sure that isn’t the case.
I took quadruple the precautions. I used messaging channels and forged documents from sources and people too new and young to even be on Wendell Blitz’s radar.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Oh, so you want to play games then?” the unknown caller says.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say and hang up on the person.
My immediate move is to switch right away to a new number until I realize I don’t have any way to give Reed that number.
I didn’t even give Reed the exact address of the villa, just the community’s name.
I wouldn’t even give him the code to the gate because I didn’t want it floating around in a messaging app.
Call it paranoia, but I call it necessary caution.
Back inside, I go for the hook where the car keys are kept. I should drive around and see if I can find Reed. It’s a long shot, though it’s better than sitting still and feeling helpless. But the keys to my car aren’t where I left them.
I check the floor and the counters in the kitchen. I even check the drawers in the desk of the home office. They’re nowhere to be found despite using them earlier for a grocery run.
On the stairs, on my way to the bedroom to dig through the pockets of the pants I wore earlier, my phone rings again. It’s the unknown number. I ignore the call, and a text chimes in.
I have something you want back too.
I read the message three times over.
Reed.
I stop dead in my tracks. Wendell must’ve figured out where I am, had someone follow Reed, and now they’ve taken him hostage.
Possessiveness charges through my veins because I’m the only man allowed to tie up Reed Thompson, that’s for damn sure.
I don’t care if Wendell wants the sapphire earrings back.
Tough luck, it’s far too late for that. They’ve long been stripped and sold for their shiny parts.
They bought me this house, this freedom.
They can’t cost Reed his life.
They just can’t.
I call the menacing motherfucker back.
“Don’t touch a single hair on his head,” I say, spit flying out of my mouth. I mean business. Even though I don’t want to be a killer, I’ll murder in cold blood anyone who so much as looks at Reed Thompson with ill intent.
“But it’s so soft and silky,” the unknown caller says. Even through the distortion, I can tell this sicko is enjoying themself. Does he have Reed tied up and gagged? Does that sight arouse him as much as it does me? No matter his answer, I’ll pummel him until his lights go out.
“Tell me where you are,” I say, standing on the stairs in nothing but my sodden, dripping boxer briefs. That arrowhead is back on the outside table, mocking me.
On the next landing, I see a light flick on in the main bedroom. A glow creeps out from under the closed door. “Come and find me.”
My breathing becomes rapid-fire. That sound I heard earlier wasn’t a normal house sound. Someone is in here. I should’ve trusted my instincts and not gotten distracted by this vile assailant on the phone. Reed might be in even more danger than I thought.
I imagine him hailing a car from the airport, only for the driver to be one of Wendell’s lackies in disguise.
In the hallway, I access my hidden wall safe and pull out the in-case-of-emergency gun I purchased.
It’s loaded and heavy in my hands. I’ve practiced with it enough at the shooting range recently to know that I’ve still got it in me to take down a target.
“Don’t do anything stupid. What you came for is not here,” I say.
“Oh, I think it is,” the caller says.
“I’m armed,” I relay, my back pressed against the wall beside the door in case this creep also has a gun and decides to shoot through the wood.
“My weapon is loaded too,” says the caller. “But it’s not a gun.”
The red lights of my security cameras in the corner of the ceiling catch my eye. A chill races up my neck. He’s watching me. This guy is better than I want to give him credit for.
“I don’t want to shoot you, but if you hurt Reed, I will,” I say. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’m coming inside. Your hands better be empty and held up where I can see them.”
There’s no response. Just more loaded silence.
“One, two…” I kick down the door on the three, gun drawn and heart squeezed in a vice.
I expect to come face-to-face with a hired hitman.
Instead, I find Reed Thompson. Naked. Kneeling on the bed. Arms raised in the air in surrender. His cock—the loaded weapon—standing straight up.
“Did you miss me?” Reed asks. A devilish grin graces his handsome face. The face I’d crush between my hands and shower in kisses if I wasn’t still on edge from his little stunt.
“What the fuck, Reed?” I ask, dropping the gun. I try to catch my breath. “I could’ve killed you.”
“But you didn’t,” he says with a shrug and a sultry smirk.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I say, one hand to my chest.
He laughs, and it makes me want to throttle him for being so reckless. Annoying, when I also want to hug him hard and never let him go. “That was kind of the point,” Reed says. “You’re sexy when you’re scared.”
I roll my eyes. Of course this is the man I decided to trust, chose to fall in love with. I suppose it makes sense that my match would be as twisted as me.
“What?” Reed asks teasingly. “Didn’t like a taste of your own medicine?” He licks his lips. The barest hint of his pink tongue goes straight to my dick.
I unload the gun and put the safety on as I say, “You’ve been planning this the whole time?”
“Yup,” he says, sounding proud of himself.
“And I fell for it,” I say.
Reed slides off the bed and slinks toward me. “You did.”
“I’d be impressed if I wasn’t kind of furious with you,” I say. A loud exhale spews out of my nose.
Reed’s right hand finds purchase on my damp, meaty pec. “Is this your favorite outfit or something? Wet boxer briefs?” he asks.
“You sent me diving after an arrowhead,” I retort. Up this close, I can smell him again. He must be wearing the Peony and Blush body cream from that day at Wendell’s compound. He can afford it for himself now. Damn, I’ve missed that sweet, floral scent.
“I’ll admit that was pretty mean of me,” he says. He bats his eyelashes like the brat he is. “Can you ever forgive me?”
I waggle my tense jaw and cock an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Maybe. But definitely not until I punish you.”
“How are you going to punish me?” he asks.
He steps closer, and the wet head of his cock brushes the inside of my thigh. The tickle makes my dick spring to its full mast against the sopping fabric of my underwear.
“How am I not going to punish you?”