Blaze POV
I fucked him over and over, until he was sobbing and begging to come, then I kept fucking him long after he had given up, pushing him right to the edge again and again until I was sure he couldn’t take any more. Only then did I finally let him come.
Now he’s passed out, completely exhausted, and I’m still buried deep inside him, his body warm and tight around my cock. It feels so fucking good I don’t want to move. But I need to find out the truth.
I need to know what the hell is going on in his world. As much as I don’t want to pull away right now, this is the only chance I’m going to fucking have.
I carefully pull out of him, almost groaning at the loss of that tight heat. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. Good. I throw on my boxers and start moving quietly through the apartment.
I grab his phone first. It’s just calls and messages from me, Siren, and his other friends. Nothing else. No pictures, no suspicious contacts, nothing. I place it down but pause. That’s not the phone I normally see him with.
I go through his pockets and find another one. This one is locked. So this is his real phone, and the one he uses to talk to me is a fucking burner. Why?
I set it down and start going through his drawers. Nothing but neatly folded clothes. No pictures, no personal items, nothing that feels like it belongs to him. I move into the living room and open cupboards and drawers. Still nothing that stands out.
This doesn’t feel like his home. It feels like a place he stays at. But his lovely fiancée comes here, so does she know?
I pull open another drawer and stop cold when I see the gun. I pull on the gloves I wear when I ride and take the gun out. It’s loaded with the safety on. Why the fuck does he have a gun?
I search the rest of the drawers but find nothing else. Placing the gun down, I start looking behind the framed art on the walls. Nothing. I put the last one back up but pause. This one is heavier. Thicker. Turning it over, it looks normal, but the back is different.
I peel off the tape, pull the backing off, and stare.
Cash. A lot of it.
What the fuck?
I look toward the bedroom where Dylan is still sleeping. So him being so against being gay isn’t about religion. Clearly.
I take out the cash, pile it up, and keep searching. Under the sink at the back I find a folder with loads of fake IDs, all with his picture on them. I drop them next to the cash.
I go back into the bedroom and search again, this time feeling under the drawers, behind furniture, everywhere. I find nothing else at first. Leaning against the wall, I watch him sleep for a moment.
Who the fuck is he?
My eyes drop and I notice the panel under the unit is slightly slanted. Moving to it, I pull the panel forward and pull out the box hidden behind it. High-end watches, diamonds, and more cash.
What the actual fuck?
I keep the box out, close the panel, and place everything on the table, the gun, the cash, the fake IDs, the watches, the diamonds. Everything.
I stand there staring at it all, then look back at Dylan sleeping peacefully in the bed.
Who the fuck is he really?
I’m not sure how long I’ve sat here going through every possible scenario in my head. He was found at the other club, is he working for them? Does he go from club to club as some kind of nomad, getting information and getting paid for it?
It seems plausible, but it wouldn’t account for the diamonds. Or the gun. Or the fake IDs. Or the stacks of cash.
I think I’ve gone through everything and nothing fits. Dylan is just… Dylan. The sun had risen hours ago, and I’m still sat on this sofa staring at everything when I hear the shuffle of his feet.
My eyes flick up. He walks into the room, still half-asleep, and the moment he sees the table his expression changes. He looks happy for half a second, then it vanishes.
“What the fuck is all this?” I gesture to the table.
He pauses, eyes wide. “Come on Dylan, what are you going to say? That I can’t fucking know?”
“I-I-I—”
I stay quiet, waiting. I’ve learnt he stammers a lot around me when he’s caught out or when I’m fucking him and he’s turned on. But after two minutes he’s said nothing.
“You have a loaded gun, fucking diamonds, fake IDs, cash, everything,” I say, voice low and dangerous. “So I know your reason for getting married to a woman isn’t religion. So what the fuck is it?”
He glances from the things on the table back to me. His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks.
“My father is Declan McCoy.”
I laugh. “I know Declan’s son and it isn’t you.”
“You know my little brother. Not me.”
No. He’s not Declan’s fucking son. This has to be a fucking lie. “And what, he just acted like you didn’t exist and pays you to stay quiet?”
“Not exactly. I was raised by a nanny. I saw my family often, but the condition was I was to take over. I was hidden to keep me alive, and so my father could use me to his advantage. People don’t know who I am. People speak.”
Fuck.
I stand up and start pacing. “You’re Declan’s fucking son?”
Now it makes sense. The arranged marriage. Him being so fucking afraid of being gay. I turn and stare at him. “What the fuck, Dylan! I could be fucking dead if he found out I’m fucking you.”
“That’s why I refused at the start.”
I scoff. “Well thanks for that. Just what I fucking needed.”
He flinches but says nothing. I thought in my head that eventually I would get him, even if he married. I thought eventually he would step up and say no, I’m gay, and we could eventually have some sort of fucking life. But now I realise that’s never happening.
“No one is to know who I am.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“No one is to know who I am. Sasha fucking told Titan who told Echo. No one is to fucking know.”
“That’s what your mind goes to? You’re still trying to fucking protect your secret?”
“What else should my mind be on?”
Is he serious? “How about us? How about thinking of how this can be fixed?”
“It can’t be. In a few months I take over from my father. That’s my life. But I need to ensure no one fucking knows before then.”
That’s all he cares about. His little fucking secret.
“Fuck you, Dylan. Don’t worry, no one will fucking be told.”
I grab my keys and storm out. His mind should have gone to figuring this out, how we could be together. Not keeping his secret fucking safe.
By the time I get back to the club, I still haven’t calmed down. If anything, I’m more pissed off at Echo for keeping this quiet from me.
I walk in and whistle sharply. Echo looks up and chuckles. I watch as he passes the baby to Siren and follows me. The other guys join us in the room without needing to be told.
I shouldn’t care this much, should I? I should just talk and let the whole fucking club know who Dylan really is. I can’t though.
“Only those who know,” I snap, looking straight at Echo.
“I get it. Everyone out except Titan, Ghost, and Knox.”
The guys mutter to each other but leave the room.
“So you figured it out,” Titan asks, already laughing.
“Yeah, and what the fuck is that?” I look at Echo. “Not fucking telling me? What the fuck was I meant to do if his dad caught us together?”
“Not tell him that his son likes to be degraded while being railed?” Titan mocks, but I ignore him.
“Echo, you need to fucking explain.”
“Look, none of us were meant to know. Titan told me, but he told me that Sasha wasn’t meant to say anything. No one was meant to know. It was a risk.”
“No one? Yet you told Knox, then Ghost,” I gesture at them.
“Knox is vice president,” Echo argues.
“And Ghost?”
“Ghost is our reaper. He needed to be brought into it on the off chance we needed a body resolving.”
That’s total fucking bullshit.
“So you found out and ran?” Titan leans back in his chair.
“No, I pulled him on it, and he got all fucking obsessed with ‘no one is to know,’ so I fucking walked.”
Echo just smirks.
“Knowing or not knowing doesn’t change the risk. It also doesn’t change the fact no one should know,” Knox looks at me. “You’re making excuses.”
“Excuses?” I snap.
“Yes, Blaze. You don’t do relationships. You do fuck buddies. You were so caught up in who he was and what he was hiding. You know why? Because if you hadn’t, you would have had to accept it was more than just fucking,” Ghost says.
My head shakes. “That’s bullshit.”
“Yeah? Then why did you leave over something you already fucking knew?” Echo asks.
I didn’t know. “You lot knew. I didn’t know that.”
“The fact that he said no one could find out about you two, ever, kind of is the same. It was always going to be hidden. You’re acting like it’s something new,” Titan says while smirking.
“Us fucking was to be hidden. His entire fucking identity, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s basically the same,” Knox replies.
I rub my face, trying to calm down. “He’s the oldest son of the mafia. That means he’s set to take over.”
“And you’re fucking the soon-to-be mafia boss,” Titan jokes.
“Was. Because I’m not going to now. The fact that not even Siren knows isn’t a good thing. He’s been coming here for months. How do we know he’s not giving information to them? He fucking knew Grim.”
Echo leans back and hums. “So now you’re trying to use the excuse he’s been getting information behind our back?”
“No, I…” Shit. Okay, maybe I was. “It’s a possibility. I don’t want to think it, but he was here yesterday. Black eye, mentioning the West Crew, but failed to mention Grim.”
“Look, I had Glitch check and we didn’t see anything weird. If he’s going to the other club, yeah it’s for his father, but this one, it’s all Siren. He’s not tried to get information. He’s not looking for anything,” Knox says.
That doesn’t help.
“So I over-reacted?” That’s what they are hinting at.
“You were full-on diva mode, Blaze. Poor Dylan never stood a chance, clearly.”
“I wasn’t a fucking diva, Titan.”
“You walked away because his identity had to stay hidden. Already a huge sign you were a diva.”
I glare at Titan but he just chuckles like he’s enjoying this way too much.
“Look, we were keeping an eye on things. Now you have to decide, Dylan or not. You can’t fuck him, then quit, then go back when someone else tries to,” Echo looks at me.
“He’s not going to agree to me claiming him.”
They all laugh. “You won’t even ask. Again, fuck buddies. You have an issue with commitment and you claiming him is commitment,” Ghost says.
“It’s not about my fear of commitment.”
“No?” Echo looks at me. “Then go ask him now. Siren just messaged and said he’s here.”
What? “He just fucking showed up?”
“Yeah. Totally a diva and totally freaking out about commitment,” Titan laughs and walks out with the others following.
I begin pacing the room. I have to decide, because if I don’t, I can’t say shit when Titan fucks Dylan. The truth is though, it’s a fucking risk. This isn’t Dylan from some rich family who expect grandkids, or a church family who are homophobic.
It’s the fucking mafia.
I walk out of the room and spot Dylan sitting with Siren. He glances up at me and I don’t even hesitate. I walk straight over.
“We need to talk.”
I turn and walk off, trusting that he will follow me. Getting to my room I stand and wait, watching as he walks in behind me. I close the door.
“You just came here after I said this was over?”
“I came to see Siren,” he says. “We had plans today.”
“Bullshit. You can’t use Siren as an excuse to get close to me again.”
“Ask her,” he snaps. “We had plans today. I accept this is over, that you’re not happy with who I am.”
My head shakes. “It’s got fuck all to do with who you are.”
“No? Because it sure sounded like you hated the idea of who I was.”
“I hate the optics of it. Fuck, Dylan, you’re set to take over from your father, and in your mind I didn’t need to know. Do you realise how fucked up that is?”
He sits down and stares at me. “I never said I didn’t think you needed to know. The point is no one was to know.”
I sit down across from him. “So what’s the plan? What’s your father’s plan? Hiding you until when and why?”
He sits there for a long moment before he finally speaks.
“My father knew the first born would be at risk, so he kept the pregnancy hidden and handed me to a maid when I was born. He thought that I could grow up, build connections with well known people, then use it when I take over. Only he didn’t expect… me.”
“You?” I ask.
“Oh come on, you’ve seen my brother. He fits the profile of the son of the mafia. Me? I don’t. I mean, it works, no one suspects me, but I’m not the first born my father would have chosen. If he could, I have no doubt he would have chosen a different son to take over.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No it isn’t. I’ve come to terms with the fact that when I take over people are going to look at me and assume I’m fucking weak. So let them. They will quickly learn just because I’m thin, small, and not big like my brother or my father doesn’t mean I’m afraid to do what needs to be done.”
He says that yet he is. “Yeah? Because you seem pretty fucking scared about people finding out you’re gay.”
“That’s different. There’s a chance then my father won’t let me take over.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.”
“What?” He stands up and stares at me.
“I said good. Fuck, Dylan, you’re not cut out to be the fucking head of the mafia, even if you trained.”
“And you’re the exact reason why I’m going to, just to prove you fucking wrong. I get it, I’m weak. You don’t think I can fucking handle myself. Well I can.”
“With a gun?” I mock. “That’s great. What happens when they snatch that? Then what, Dylan? Beg them not to hurt you? Wait to be saved?”
“You’re a fucking asshole,” he snarls.
“I’m honest. Your dad’s in a hostile environment, takes out his gun, someone grabs it. What’s his next step?”
“My father would take them down with his bare hands and ensure they know he’s not weak and the gun is merely an extension of him.”
“Right, and what will you do? Show me. You don’t have a gun. I’m about to put you in the fucking ground. What’s your plan?”
He stares at me.
“I’m serious. Prove to me you have what it fucking takes.”