Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

S erious workouts in prison kept Damon from going insane, and he’d kept up the habit once he got out to fill his days between job hunts, so he was in damn good shape.

Or had been, anyway.

But two weeks after getting shot and basic stretching, along with a short walk, got him dripping with sweat and sliding to the floor. Ready to stay there.

Maybe forever.

It’s a very nice floor.

Holding out a hand, Virgil clasped Damon’s and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t let go until Damon was steady, his eyes warm with humor. “You’re doing well, kiddo. Another couple of weeks and we’ll up the intensity.”

“As much as I appreciate your help with my rehab, aren’t I being considered as a driver?” Damon accepted the towel Parker tossed him from the weight area, using it to dry off his face as he braced his shoulder against the wall. “Shouldn’t I be showing you my skills behind the wheel?”

Virgil pinned him with a hard stare that rivaled his husband’s, only Gerard didn’t bother to follow those stares with words. Other than appearing pissed that Damon didn’t drop dead from it, the man seemed determined to ignore him out of existence.

Thankfully, Damon’d earned himself a few supporters who didn’t feel the same.

Including Virgil.

Tone firm, Virgil took a step closer. “You want to be here, Damon? I need to see it. This life isn’t easy, and Elliot doesn’t need anyone who’s going to drag him down. Who doesn’t have the strength to watch his back. It’s still soon for you to make that kind of commitment, but you asked me to help you prove yourself. Don’t waste my time.”

“I won’t.” Damon straightened, squaring his shoulders, which didn’t bring him to eye level with Virgil’s nearly 6’7, but at least, to outward appearances, he didn’t look ready to collapse at the man’s feet. “But I’ll be able to drive long before I’m able to fight. Gerard wants Elliot back out there in two more weeks. I’m going with him, one way or another.”

Inclining his head, Virgil motioned for him to follow, heading for the small kitchen-slash-dining space thrown together in the room next to the gym. The more social of Eros’ Eight came here for a lot of their meals, Virgil providing cooking lessons as needed, along with council, or even just a hug. His style of leadership compared to his husband’s was like day and night, but the longer Damon was here, the more obvious it became how they balanced each other out.

Gerard might not be Damon’s favorite person—and the feeling was clearly mutual—but he respected the man. His training, his guidance, kept the guys alive.

While Virgil did everything in his power to make sure they had lives worth living.

“Tig, hon, could you grab a couple bottles of Gatorade?” Virgil pulled out a chair at the round table. “Come sit down, Damon. If you’re willing to put in the work, I’ll make sure you’re ready. You may have some physical limits right now, but your mental ones will be the biggest obstacle. So let’s see to those.”

Frowning, Damon lowered to the chair. “What ‘mental limits’ do you think I have?”

“The ones where you believe you have the slightest clue of what’ll be expected of you. And who the man you’re so infatuated with really is.” Virgil shot back out of the chair he’d been lowering to, crossing the room in three long strides to stop Tig from walking right into the door of the fridge Gael swung open. “Eyes off your phone, tiger. And Gael, be more careful. He doesn’t need another black eye.”

Gael pouted prettily up at the handler. “I was getting your drinks for you since he was taking so long. It’s not my fault he got punched by his last mark. Why does everyone keep babying him?”

“Stop being such a bitch, Gael.” Parker glared at Gael as he came into the room, going straight to Tig and directing the younger man to Damon’s table. “Fucking attention whore. You okay, Tiggy?”

Barely seeming to have noticed the exchange, Tig nodded and held up his phone. “I’m digging up all the intel I can for Lux’s next mission. Gerard was gonna send me with him, but…” He lifted his fingers close to his eye, which was almost swollen shut, his dark red hair making the mottled bruises on his pale face stand out even more. “I don’t think I’ll be cleared. I can still help, though, can’t I?”

“Yes, you can.” Virgil set the bottles of Gatorade on the table, then moved behind Tig to give him a one-armed hug. “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing—you’re better at finding information we can use than my best computer guys. While you’re healing, I might have you teach them a thing or two.”

Tig tipped his head back to smile brightly up at Virgil. “Really? I’d like that. But can I do it from my room? Remotely? Those guys all think I’m strange… I guess maybe I’m a little strange, and with my face all messed up, it’ll be worse. What if I wear a mask?” Popping out of his chair, he started for the door. “I’ll ask Lux to help me make one. Thank you, Virg, that was an awesome idea!”

Shaking his head and laughing softly, Virgil returned to his seat across the table from Damon. “I’ll have to give Elliot a call and make sure that boy eats, I think he forgot again.”

“He did.” Gael slid a drawer open, a sweet smile on his face as Parker reached past him to grab the coffee pot. “Poor little Tig. Elliot won’t know what to do with him. You should give him a hand, Park.”

Parker lifted a brow. “Did you get crabs again? Is that why you’re being so na—?”

Slamming his hands on the table, Virgil made everyone jump. At first, Damon assumed he was going to tell the guys off for sniping at each other.

But then the butcher knife in Gael’s hand hit the floor.

“You even think about doing something like that again, Gael, and I’ll send you to reconditioning for a year.” Virgil pointed toward the door. “ Go . Wait for me in my office.”

Eyes wide, Damon looked from Parker, to Gael’s retreating form, then back. He shouldn’t be shocked, considering how his first interaction with Elliot had gone. But after seeing these guys, every day, acting so… normal ?

Sometimes he forgot, every single one of them was a killer.

Virgil chuckled, drawing Damon’s attention back to him. “Questions?”

“Yeah…” Damon blew out a breath. “But first…I’m guessing this is one of the mental things you were talking about? That I’m still surprised by stuff like that?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want it to ever seem too normal to you.” Virgil nodded toward Damon’s Gatorade, not continuing until he had his first sip. “The only way you can keep Elliot grounded is if you catch him before he crosses those kinds of lines when he shouldn’t. Which is exactly why I’m fighting for you to stay. Because I believe you’re capable of doing exactly that.”

Parker grinned at him as he fixed up his coffee. “I’m totally Team Damon, too, in case you didn’t already know. Was the first to buy the T-shirt.”

“I appreciate that. Seriously.” Damon took another long draw from the bottle. “Elliot respects both of your opinions a lot. I’d probably be buried in the backyard if you didn’t like me.”

Neither Virgil or Parker bothered to disagree with that statement.

Wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, Damon considered his next question carefully. “What did you mean by reconditioning?”

Virgil gave him a nod of approval. “It’s something they’ve all needed, to some degree or another, before, during, and after their training. We didn’t just pick up a bunch of kids or teens at random, they were all chosen because they share certain proclivities.”

“In other words, we tick off all the right boxes.” Parker tilted his head, his lips slanting. “Or wrong ones, depending on how you look at it.”

How the fuck could Damon voice what Parker was implying without insulting him? There was no way to put it delicately, but he liked the man too much to compare him to some of the very same fucking psychopaths Nexus sent mercs to take out.

Or the even worse one Eros’ Eight was specially trained to eliminate.

“You already had the potential to become killers. Or… were killers, but you were young enough to redirect those urges.” Damon sat back, ignoring the dull ache from the healing bullet wounds in his chest and side. “The reconditioning is to make sure it sticks?”

“Exactly.” Virgil’s smile was like getting an A+ on an exam, gold star and all, and Damon craved that approval as much as every one of Virgil’s men. “Some are born that way, but there’s a lot of research into whether or not they’d ever act on it if their situation didn’t bring it out. With others, like Elliot, it developed as a form of extreme self-defense.” His tone turned grim. “The sad reality is, children like them often end up dead or behind bars, with no chance of ever living a normal life. This might not be what most would consider normal, but they are capable, for the most part, of existing in society without being a threat to the general public. They can have some freedom.”

Damon rested his arms on the table, leaning forward as he held Virgil’s gaze. “The whole system you have in place, with the blood credits…? I thought it was just about control, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? Having them dependent on you means they have a reason to keep coming back. To look to you for direction instead of going off on their own and possibly targeting the wrong person.”

“I’m glad you figured that out, because I’ve seen Elliot get very defensive when you question it. I don’t blame you for wondering, or even for resenting us having that kind of power over him.” Virgil glanced over at Parker, who’d wandered off to pick up the knife Gael had dropped. “We’re not always successful. I’ve had to arrange cleanup for my boys a few times, but they always go after those who’ve harmed others. Adding to their debt whenever they do? It makes them think twice the next time.”

Swallowing hard, Damon considered the ‘debt’ Elliot mentioned so casually, except that one time, when what Damon’s life was worth came up. “How much does he owe because of me?”

“Not nearly as much as he owes from the last time he went off the rails.” Virgil stood, all his focus on Parker now. From the distant look in those light brown eyes as the young man toyed with the knife, Damon didn’t blame him. “I need to take care of this, but remember what I said, Damon. I could tell from those first few hours, from how he reacted when you were on the brink of death, that you could help bring out a part of him he’s kept locked away. And since then, from how he looks at you, I’m even more convinced. But it will take a lot of effort on your part to make it a strength, rather than a weakness, which is what Gerard’s afraid of.”

Damon pushed out of his chair, giving Virgil a quick nod to let him know he understood. “I think Lux is afraid of that, too, but he’s a sweetie. I’ve got a better chance of getting him on my side than I’ll ever have with your man.”

Sighing, Virgil crossed over to Parker, retrieving the knife and putting an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. “Let’s hope you don’t learn the hard way how wrong you are, Damon. Lux can be very sweet, but he’s part of Eros’ Eight for a reason. You’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

True, but fuck, it was almost impossible to picture Lux with Sonny’s blood splattered all over his face and hair when Damon’d seen him, all drowsy in the morning, barely coherent as he insisted he be the one to make Elliot’s coffee. His bright smiles when Elliot came in with a surprise for him, even if it was just a new kind of sugary cereal for him to try. How he lit up when anyone let him talk about his latest hyperfixation, which had moved on from Game of Thrones to Our Flag Means Death.

And the way Elliot watched his little brother, with so much tenderness, wanting to defend him from the world, while having to stand back while he crept into the darkest underbelly of it, got Damon even more protective than he’d been before.

His feelings for Elliot were different than anything he’d ever experienced, and so were the ones he had towards Lux. Hell, he cringed when he looked back at his life before prison, before his parents had died, when he’d been selfish, self-centered, and entitled, but he hardly recognized that man anymore. Or even the one he’d been behind bars.

Virgil was right, he didn’t know either Elliot or Lux very well, yet.

What he did know? Was that he liked who he was a lot more when he was around them.

Especially with Elliot, who others, like Virgil and Parker, mentioned had changed around him, too. This thing wasn’t officially a relationship, but if Damon got his way? It would become one.

One where they brought out the best in each other.

There’s nothing weak about Elliot, but if his brother, the other guys, and Gerard need me to show them I won’t become his weakness?

Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

Resolve firm, Damon headed back up, taking the elevator—because fucking up his progress by pushing himself too hard, too fast, wouldn’t prove anything—then made his way to the loft. The second he stepped inside, Elliot looked up from where he was going over a stack of files at the table with his little brother, the welcoming warmth in his eyes making Damon’s stomach do erratic little flips.

If these are butterflies I’m feeling, the things must be on crack .

An icy glare from Lux froze the fluttery things midair and sent them crash landing into the pit of his guts.

Virgil might’ve had a point about that one.

I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me.

“G’morning.” Damon walked over to the coffee machine on the counter, stir gurgling as it brewed a fresh pot, fetching Elliot and Lux’s favorite mugs, along with a random one for himself. “Hard at work on Lux’s special mission?”

Lux sprang out of his chair. “You know I do that. And how is my work any of your business?”

“It’s not. And I know you like fixing Elliot his cup in the morning, but you’re both busy and I’m not.” Damon held up his hands, taking a step back. “If I overstepped, I’m sorry.”

Bottom lip sticking out in a little pout, Lux sank back into his seat. “So reasonable. Now I look like an asshole.”

Giving Lux a sideway glance, Elliot frowned. “You look like an asshole because you’re pulling a Gael-face. Stop it. And what’s with the attitude?”

“What attitude?”

“I’m not playing this game.” Elliot closed the file with a firm snap. “You’re not fifteen anymore, pui?or.”

Face going red, Lux rose again, snapping a few words in Romanian before storming off. His bedroom door opened, then slammed.

While Elliot stared after him, expression stunned.

Sighing, Damon poured himself some coffee, hesitating before he filled Elliot’s cup, too. He brought both to the table, then went to the fridge to grab the cream. “That was my bad. He was right, I know he likes making your coffee, but…” He gestured at the abandoned files. “You were obviously into all this. Still, I should’ve—”

“No, he shouldn’t be acting like it’s some kind of territorial thing. I don’t belong to him, I’m his brother.” Elliot moved the files and pulled his mug closer, his expression closed off. “But it won’t happen again. He’s getting his own loft.”

“Shit.” Damon rubbed his hand over his mouth, scrambling for a way to repair the damage he’d done. This wasn’t how he’d wanted the morning to go down, especially after his talk with Virgil. “I know he’s not a huge fan of mine, but maybe I should talk to him? A few of the other drivers and guards have lofts here, don’t they? Maybe I can ask Virgil—”

Grabbing Damon’s wrist, Elliot narrowed his eyes, something in them making it clear he wished he had those handcuffs from the first night handy. “You’re staying right here.”

“He’s your brother, Elli.” Damon gently pried his wrist free. “I won’t make you choose between us. And I wouldn’t be far—”

This time, it was Lux who cut him off, growling irritably as he crossed the kitchen, bumping the back of Damon’s chair with a rucksack almost as big as he was. He blinked fast, like he was fighting back tears, but he didn’t pause or even glance in Elliot’s direction.

And Elliot made no move to stop him.

The door shut quietly, followed by a long silence.

Then Elliot finally spoke. “This is the right thing. He needs it and so do I. I love him, but I can’t…” His throat worked. “Damon? I want to not think about this now. Please, can you…?”

The other man didn’t seem sure what he was asking for, but Damon knew. Standing and leaning over Elliot, he curved his hand around the back of Elliot’s neck. Slanted their lips together with enough pressure to draw a gasp from Elliot.

A sharp prick against the base of his throat told Damon he’d caught his dangerously sexy guardian angel off guard. With what’d just happened with Lux, Elliot was feeling vulnerable. There was no telling what he’d do, and the knife pressed to Damon’s throat was very sharp.

But for some fucked up reason, he wasn’t afraid.

He nipped Elliot’s bottom lip and fisted his hand in his silky, amethyst-colored hair. “Open for me, my clingy little python. You want me here, you want me to help you to stop thinking? I can do that for you. But unless you intend to bleed me out, I’m going to kiss you until you can’t breathe.”

The knife cut a little deeper as Elliot’s hand, which was always steady, no matter what he was doing, trembled. “Fuck…this shouldn’t be so hot. Aren’t you scared I’ll hurt you?”

“You are hurting me, but I can take it.” Damon flicked his tongue over Elliot’s bottom lip, tightening his grip on his hair. “And you need me to give you this. You’re not in control, baby. You don’t have to be, not right now.”

All the tension seeped out of Elliot, his eyes drifting shut as his lips parted under Damon’s. The knife stayed where it was, but the pressure eased, leaving only a slight sting and a wet heat. Ignoring it, Damon deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over Elliot’s, exploring his mouth in lingering sweeps, the tingling sweetness within making him crave more.

Kissing had always been a means to the end in the past, but not with this man. He didn’t rush through it, mentally mapping out his surroundings for the closest hard surface to fuck Elliot against. Not that his dick wasn’t fully onboard with the idea, but he couldn’t focus on anything besides the lips under his and the soft moan that escaped Elliot as he surrendered completely.

The knife slipped from Elliot’s grasp and hit the floor with a metallic clink .

Then his phone buzzed.

And Elliot let out a low curse, grabbing the front of Damon’s shirt and shaking his head when he eased back. “Wait—”

“Nope. If that’s Gerard, you’re not missing the call.” Damon reached out and handed Elliot his phone without looking at the screen. “I like to set my limit at pissing off one deadly person a day.”

The edge of Elliot’s lips quirked as he took his phone. “That’s smart. And I think you need stitches, but…can we continue this…?”

Damon inclined his head, stroking his thumb over Elliot’s bottom lip. “Later.”

Soft lips surrounded his thumb, mischief sparking in Elliot’s eyes as he sucked.

Groaning, Damon pulled his hand away and moved out of reach. The torture of resisting the clear invite was so much worse than the quick death he’d get from either Lux or Gerard, but looked like no one was having any fun today.

Unless Elliot let the call go to voicemail.

“Answer the damn phone. Now .”