Victim (Damaged Devils #16)

Chapter Three

Spending time with Xan turned out be a quiet peace Cannon didn’t expect. The day after his abduction, Cannon found Xan doing his daily workout outside. Watching him made Cannon realize how lazy the use of gym equipment could be. He joined in and felt stronger than ever after only two weeks together. They watched TV, snacked, and played cards. Mostly, they just sat together. Cannon felt calmer than he had in a long time .

They built a fire in the backyard fire pit and sat together, watching the flames. It was like going on a work retreat where they took everyone’s phone and forced them to reconnect with nature. Cannon had been deployed several times and gone on missions where there was nothing but various harsh natures. This was like a camping trip for him.

“I expected you to be a tougher hostage.”

A laugh burbled in Cannon’s throat. He looked Xan’s way. Fire light danced on his features, making him look deadlier than usual. “That’s because I don’t give a fuck. It was the bureau’s phone you threw out that car window. I’ve been due a vacation for years. When all this is said and done, I have no intention of returning to work, so.” He shrugged. “I may as well eke out a few more weeks of pay from the government before I’m unemployed. Fuck them people. They mean less than nothing to me.”

“Jake doesn’t want you to quit. He knows you’re an excellent agent. The bureau has plans for you.”

“They just want me to look the other way and throw away every ounce of integrity for them. No thanks.” Cannon went back to staring at the fire. “I already have too many crosses to bear and secrets to keep. I’m smart enough to know when to stop digging.”

“You are smart,” Xan said, surprising him. “You’re intelligent enough to know nothing is black and white.”

Cannon met Xan’s stare again. “Why does this matter so much to you? When this is done, you’ll kill me or discredit me to the point of ruin. Then you’ll go on with your life like we never met. So why push? How I think and feel matters to absolutely no one. Why do you care if I keep my sense of what’s right and what’s wrong to the end?”

Xan looked away. He buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and slid down in his chair. His gaze stayed locked on the fire. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. My whole adult life, I’ve dealt with pious snobs like you. You’re right. I shouldn’t care what you think of me.”

Confusion ruled Cannon. “What are you talking about? We were discussing my career and what I can live with and what I can’t. What in the hell does that have to do with you? ”

Xan met his stare. Cannon lost his breath as he caught sight of a side of Xan he hadn’t expected. The guy looked like a real person for once. Not the deadly weapon he was. “Everything you said about why you won’t return to work is me. Your decision to walk away because of realizing people like Royal are funded by the government, that’s me. I’m Royal. I’m what you think you’re too good to sully your hands with.” Xan stood. “Just forget it, okay? You’ve made your decision. I’ll let Jake know where you stand.” He walked away, leaving Cannon wondering what the fuck had just happened. They had been sitting here peacefully. Cannon thought they had come to somewhat of a silent camaraderie.

Cannon rubbed his forehead. Fuck. He wished he didn’t feel the sting of Xan’ s words, but Xan was right. When Cannon stepped back and looked at everything he claimed, from an objective point of view, it sounded like he couldn’t stand being lumped in with people like Xan—like he thought he was better and wouldn’t sully his good name by working hand in hand with the likes of Xan. Goddamn it.

With a growl, Cannon stood. He doused the fire and followed Xan. Cannon didn’t know what he could say to make Xan understand his side of things. His feelings had nothing to do with Xan’s background. He was angry over the way the entire game was rigged for the rich. Cannon hated knowing he worked for people who would turn a blind eye to programs that tortured kids because, ultimately, they produced more people like Xan for them to exploit. He couldn’t be party to that. Cannon just wasn’t good at expressing himself. He had too much pent-up resentment.

Once inside, Cannon headed straight for Xan’s bedroom. He didn’t knock. His mind was too preoccupied with trying to figure out the right words to use. “Listen, Xan.” Cannon froze. Xan was shirtless, with his back to the door. He was nothing but scars. Cannon had caught sight of Xan shirtless from the front before, which was fucking perfection. This was different. Cannon’s stomach churned. Xan’s back was just a roadmap of scarred-over untreated wounds. Cuts. Whip marks. Cigar burns. Gun-shot wounds.

Even though Xan immediately turned when he stormed the room, it was like it happened in slow motion. Cannon didn’t miss a single mark. He couldn’t breathe. Xan had a laced cigar hanging from his lips. His pants hung low on his hips. Sexy abs screamed for attention, trying to trick Cannon into forgetting what he had seen. His chest hurt. Xan had gotten those scars over the span of his childhood. A fucking child.

Suddenly, Cannon had all the words. “I don’t think I’m above you. In fact, I think you’re fucking amazing. Always have. My anger and bitterness aren’t about you. It’s for you. How can anyone ask me to go back and pledge my loyalty to people who knew you and others like you were suffering? They left you there because it suited their purposes to do so. That’s what I can’t live with. ”

Xan didn’t respond. In fact, his expression never changed—like he was bored.

Cannon was too in his feelings. He felt too much passion for the career he thought he had been working. He thought he had been making a difference.

“How do you live with it?” Even Cannon heard the plea in his quietly spoken question.

Xan calmly snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray next to the bed. Cannon watched Xan cross the room. Before he saw it coming, Xan cupped his face and kissed him. It was arguably the hottest and most skilled kiss Cannon had ever experienced in his life. Unfortunately, Cannon didn’t get to enjoy it as much as he would have liked, since he was so caught off guard. By the time his brain caught up with the moment, it was over.

Xan didn’t release Cannon’s face right away. He swiped the moisture from Cannon’s bottom lip. “How do you live with giving up everything that makes you you to keep up appearances you hate? Everyone makes their choices.”

Without another word, Xan turned away and closed himself inside his bathroom. Cannon stared at the closed door, trying to figure out what had just happened to his life.

Xan stared at himself in the mirror, wishing he hadn’t left his cigar in the ashtray. His light blue eyes looked colder than usual. Maybe that was just him. He kept seeing the pleading in Cannon’s eyes and comparing that to his empty stare. Cannon had passion. Fire. He believed in things. The guy had heart. Xan possessed none of that.

He dug his phone from his pocket. It had been two weeks. Xan couldn’t say he hadn’t tried. But Cannon’s deep-seated feelings and stance on life couldn’t and wouldn’t be budged by time away from everything. Plus, the guy hadn’t been lying. Cannon wasn’t an alcoholic. Not a drop of the stuff had been in his body the past fourteen days, and there had been no change in Cannon signaling withdrawals. This was pointless.

X: This is pointless. Move to Plan B.

G: Received and understood.

Xan went back to staring at his reflection. His gaze dropped to his lips. Cannon’s flavor still lingered there. He didn’t know what had come over him. All Cannon’s passion had been directed at him, showing more pain and outrage on Xan’s behalf than anyone else ever had. An overwhelming need to taste that zeal had overcome him. That kiss had been way more amazing than he could have imagined. Damn. That was a shame. He genuinely liked Cannon. Despite Cannon’s over-the-top sanctimonious attitude about life, Xan actually enjoyed his company. Cannon brought a quiet peace to the room, broken by bursts of humor. None of that mattered any longer. His text was sent, received, and understood. It was over. He had failed in his mission. Now he had to pay the price.