Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

L os Angelos to Montreal was never a quick flight, but a million miles must’ve been added this time.

Why the fuck haven’t we landed yet?

We’re running out of time.

Seated in the back of a cargo plane, Damon strapped to a gurney beside him, Elliot checked the man’s weak pulse again, not trusting the monitor rigged up on a nearby shelf. Dampening a cloth, he cooled Damon’s sweaty brow.

The doctor Virgil had meet them at the hanger gave Damon about a 50/50 chance if he survived the flight, doing little more than stabilizing him before sending them off with a detached ‘Good luck.’

Virgil hadn’t let Elliot tear the doc’s throat out with his teeth for that.

Unreasonable as fuck .

But he wasn’t really mad at his handler’s husband, not with how cool he’d been since.

Like now, as he approached with a fresh cloth and a cool bottle of water, topping off the bucket locked in place between Elliot’s feet. He patted Elliot’s shoulder, gazing down at Damon with a thoughtful expression. “I think he’ll make it.”

Sitting up a little straighter, Elliot gave Virgil his full attention. “You do?”

“Well, yes.” Virgil gave him a warm smile, the dim yellow lights of the cargo hold flashing over his rich brown skin and casting it in a golden glow. “He’s big and tough and he’s a fighter. You wouldn’t be interested in him otherwise.”

Elliot twisted his lips, dropping his gaze to the slow rise and fall of Damon’s chest. “I’m not interested in him. He saved Lux, which means I owe him. I always repay my debts.”

“Like a Lanister?” Lux glanced up from his phone, pausing Game of Thrones , which he was rewatching for the umpteenth time. He’d convinced Elliot to watch it with him once, and it wasn’t the worst show in the world, but no way could he go through that ending twice, nevermind multiple times.

Still, it was his little brother’s latest hyperfixation, so he’d tolerate it.

Lifting his shoulders, Elliot dipped the fresh cloth in the bucket, ringing it out before laying it over Damon’s forehead. “I guess? I’m not a brotherfucker, though.” He gave Lux a crooked grin. “You’re too small and skinny for my tastes.”

“But he’s not.” Lux narrowed his eyes at Damon’s still form. “He better live.”

“After that, I don’t think he’d dare do otherwise.” Virgil took a seat at Lux’s other side. “Which episode are you on?”

Lux’s bottom lip trembled and he bit down on it hard. Inhaling roughly, he leaned against the bigger man, positioning the phone so they could both watch the screen. “The one where Hodor dies. I won’t cry this time, I’m not alone.”

Forcing himself not to wince, Elliot kept his gaze on Damon, sensing Virgil’s eyes on him. He did his best to give his little brother space to feel all his feels, especially after talking to his last therapist, but he couldn’t help warning Lux not to let the other guys see him fall apart.

They might technically be a team, but they didn’t work many jobs together.

And the ones they did? Well, if the men saw Lux as weak, they might decide to cut their losses. Elliot couldn’t always be there, as much as he wished he could. He had to give his little brother some freedom and independence.

But only once he knew he’d be safe.

“If you do, you can dry your tears on my shirt and I won’t tell anyone about them.” Virgil lowered his voice in a stage whisper. “So long as you don’t tell anyone about mine.”

Lux snickered, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t, but you don’t cry.”

“Ha! Ask my husband.” Virgil settled his arm around Lux’s shoulders, tucking him in close. “I’m a big ol’ sap. Now, start it over from the beginning, I haven’t seen this show in a while. Maybe, since you’ll be back at The Inn, we can have a rewatch party?”

Eyes wide, Lux tipped his head back. “Really?”

“Really.” Virgil pressed a kiss to Lux’s fluffy curls, giving him a fond look. “Your brother’s going to be busy taking care of that one. We can’t leave you to your own devices and have you getting in trouble, can we?”

Nodding sagely, Lux tapped the screen. “Unsanctioned kills are expensive.”

Virgil chuckled. “And there’s that.”

Smiling as he listened to the exchange, Elliot checked Damon’s pulse again. Still weak, but it hadn’t gotten worse, which was something at least. The IV pumping blood and medication into his veins swayed erratically with the turbulence, making the shadows dance across his still features, the darker ones giving the illusion of sleep. Messed with Elliot’s head a bit, because, other than Lux, he’d never slept next to anyone.

What would it be like, waking up to see this face next to him? Would he ever get used to how undeniably handsome Damon was? Not the pretty kinda good looking, which Elliot grudgingly saw when he looked in the mirror. It came in handy, but he wasn’t…attracted to men with delicate features.

Or…he hadn’t been so far. Every man in Eros’ Eight was chosen, in part, because of how hot they were. A specific kind of hot, model-worthy, except all of them were too twisted to do anything so tame.

Maybe, if he gave a guy like himself a chance, he’d feel different.

It would make more sense to stick with his own kind.

Safer for them, and for him.

But if he was honest with himself, he craved something different. Something other than what he’d known most of his life. That could be why Virgil thought he was interested in Damon.

You know you are. Just admit it.

Scowling, Elliot unstrapped himself from the long metal seat welded to the wall of the plane, ignoring Virgil’s sharp protest as he made his way between the massive crates, all full of furniture, paintings, and other valuables Gerard bought at cheap prices from seizures—mostly from criminals he’d helped bring in. He never claimed credit for capturing them, it was part of securing connections within the most prominent law enforcement agencies in the world.

A detective, or an agent, looking to make a name for themselves was always grateful to have a big case dropped in their lap, with all the work done for them. In return, they’d do favors for Gerard in return.

Like give him first dibs on stuff like this, which Gerard sold to fund his own agency, Nexus.

Eros’ Eight was only one of the teams under the Nexus umbrella, and Elliot was damn proud to be part of it. Him and the other guys were some of the most skilled mercs the agency had. Even though they did what might be called the ‘dirty work’, using their bodies for most of the missions, every single man had proved he was more than a pretty face.

But…

Leaning against a crate, Elliot let himself picture Damon again, praying the bastard wouldn’t have the same impact on him, now that he was out of sight. His pulse quickened as his mind betrayed him, playing out a scenario where Damon looked at him with the same gentle protectiveness he’d had with Lux. Instead of standing back, Damon got closer, putting those muscular arms around him.

And when Elliot tried to pull away, Damon held him tight. Forced him to feel his strength, to know he couldn’t get away.

Not that he really wanted to.

Was that it? Did Elliot have some fucked up kink? Did he want a man to take control?

What’s wrong with you? Why would you want that after all you’ve seen? All you’ve been through?

Okay, so his body might want that, but his mind didn’t have to. Besides, Damon was injured, so he wasn’t in any condition to take charge. He was just a bodyguard, probably a civilian who’d gotten caught up with criminals.

That was the only thing that explained him using his body to save Lux. If he had any kind of training, he could’ve defended them both and gotten out of there without a scratch.

Once Elliot brought Damon home and the man began to heal, he’d have plenty of time to explore his strange reactions to the man. Hell, he could treat it like some kind of experiment. For the first few years of his training, a lot of focus had been on emotional discipline, like how to keep anger or fear from clouding his judgment.

A few times a year he got refresher courses with weapons and combat.

Maybe he was due for one that involved…feelings.

Unwanted feelings he didn’t even have a name for.

Taking a clinical approach to his own emotions always calmed Elliot—thankfully, he wasn’t the one who needed therapy, because a shrink would have a fucking field day with that—and he managed to return to his seat feeling more like himself. When Virgil arched a brow at him in question, he gave the man a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I needed a minute. What happened at the auction…” Elliot shrugged. “It got pretty messy.”

Virgil nodded, reaching out to pat his hand. “It did, but you handled yourself well. I’d still like you to see the doctor yourself when we get—”

“No.”

“Elliot.” Virgil’s tone was firm now. “You were naked and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Things went further than they should have with the mark—you don’t have to tell me, I know you’re trained to compartmentalize that shit, but you can’t ignore the potential physical damage.”

If there was one thing Virgil never seemed to come to terms with, it was any of Eros’ Eight having to go beyond toying with a mark to either get valuable intel, or kill them. Nothing made him go into Papa Bear mode like knowing any of the guys had actually been fucked—especially when things to a little rough.

Thankfully, he had Lux to focus all that energy on now, and everyone could agree that shit should never happen to him .

But Elliot was perfectly fine.

“I wouldn’t ignore it, but there is none.” Elliot softened his tone when Lux peered up at him, his eyes already sheened with tears. Worrying both Virgil and him was not an option. “Did you see the guys? They were scrawny, tiny dicked assholes. I’ll take all the usual pills as a precaution, but if it makes you feel any better? I had to ask one of the guys if he was in yet. And I think he lied.”

Lux snickered and blinked away his tears. “For real?”

“Yeah. I’d almost feel sorry for him, but there are plenty of guys out there with small tools who know how to use them.” Not like Elliot had any experience to say for sure, but sounded about right. “I decided he probably didn’t need it anymore, so I cut it off.”

Both Lux and Virgil winced, Virgil pressing his muscular thighs together, as though he should protect his own dick before Elliot decided on a visual replay.

A sweet, slightly psychotic smile curved Lux’s lips. “Next time we do a mission together, can you show me how?”

Elliot grinned at his little brother. “Absolutely.”

The radio attached to Virgil’s belt beeped and he unclipped it, bringing it to his ear and exchanging a few words with the pilot in French. “We’ll be landing in about ten minutes. I’ve got a van waiting, so we won’t have any trouble transporting your friend.” His gaze slid to Damon, who was still breathing shallowly, but otherwise looked like a corpse. “If you need me to help you with him—”

“Last time you offered to help, you and Gerard got in a huge fight.” Elliot cooled the cloth for Damon’s forehead again. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I said I’d do whatever jobs I need to and I meant it.”

“I will, too.” Lux gripped the sides of his seat, pressing his eyes shut tight as the plane rumbled and shook, beginning its descent. “I hate it when the dads fight.”

Huffing out a laugh, Virgil gave Lux a gentle squeeze. “All right, but don’t let Gerard here you call him that. You know how he gets.”

Lux nodded and laughed quietly, visibly relaxing the minute the plane touched ground and the back opened up, letting in the cool, fall air. When Virgil gave him the go-ahead, Lux popped up from his seat, moving to the end of the gurney to help Elliot extend the base so they could roll the man out.

Halfway down the ramp, the monitor Elliot had propped against the gurney’s safety rail let out a warning alarm, the bumpy red line going flat. Waving for Lux to move, Elliot ran the gurney the rest of the way down to the tarmac, his own pulse hammering in his skull.

“No fucking way do you get to check out now. Come on!” Elliot smacked his hand into the center of Damon’s chest. Then shook him. Then slapped him in the face. “We’re almost there! Wake up! Wake up and—”

Dragging him backward, Virgil blocked a punch aimed at his jaw. “Get a hold of yourself, my boy. Look.” He pointed at the wires attached to the monitor. “I think the wires came loose when you moved it, and the bumps on the ramp knocked one out completely. He’s still breathing, nothing’s changed, but he won’t be alive much longer if you keep beating on him.”

Elliot hauled in a few calming breaths, lips parting a few times to make some kind of excuse for his behavior, but nothing came out. Because he couldn’t fucking explain why he was acting all insane over a man he didn’t know.

Finally, he lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Virg. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I do.” Virgil rubbed his arms, bending down a bit to meet his eyes. “You care. You don’t usually let yourself care about anyone besides Lux. It’s making you a bit crazy because you don’t know what to do with all those unfamiliar emotions.”

Wrinkling his nose, Elliot took a step back, out of Virgil’s reach. He wasn’t Lux, he didn’t need to be held and comforted.

Gerard would’ve cuffed him upside the back of the head to get him to smarten up.

That, he could accept. It would make things feel normal again.

“I care about you and Gerard.” His brow furrowed. “And I guess I care about the other guys.”

Smiling, and thankfully not looking offended at Elliot pulling away, Virgil motioned him over to the gurney. “You’ve never seen either me or Gerard brought low like this. As for ‘the other guys’, you’ve made a point of not getting close to the rest of your crew.”

“I’d still be sad if any of them died.” Elliot didn’t sound sure of that, even to his own ears. His constant war with the wrong feelings usually ended up with all of them shoved in a box to sort through later.

The only time he felt anything he didn’t need to bury was before, during, and after a kill.

That was pure. That was justified and didn’t mess with the mission.

Or with his head.

Everything about Damon was doing just that, and the man wasn’t even conscious. How bad would it get once he woke up? Elliot wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know why he was even risking the reaction he’d just had turning into an even bigger problem.

Maybe he needed the challenge to prove he was as in control of himself as he thought he was.

Either way, he’d decided the man was gonna live. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome.

This whole ‘caring’ about a stranger thing…

Wouldn’t last.