Violent Angel (Pretty Broken Things #1)

Epilogue

Three weeks later

H aving friends might be overrated.

Elliot rubbed his face against his shoulder in a vain attempt to displace the blindfold, his efforts to work his wrists out of his rope binding just as futile. Of course the peace he’d gotten comfortable with couldn’t last.

His first night back in his own loft with Damon—after getting kicked out of Virgil and Gerard’s when the invitation to stay while Parker healed got revoked—and a full night’s rest was apparently too damn much to ask for.

As soon as I’m out of these ropes, someone is getting put in a cast.

Maybe several someone’s.

This must’ve been a team effort. Elliot fought a lot harder when he’d gotten dragged out of bed and restrained, hearing Damon grunting and struggling beside him, but his sweet little baby brother whispered to him, letting him know he wasn’t in any real danger.

“Try to relax. It’s a nice surprise, I promise.”

Since when did surprises involve kidnapping? If this was how the guys were gonna surprise him on a random day, he sure as fuck didn’t want them planning his next birthday party.

A sharp poke in his cheek jerked his head back. “Oww! What the fuck!”

“Please stop trying to rub off the blindfold, you’ll ruin everything. This took a lot of time to plan and…” Tig trailed off, then made a soft sound of protest. “That’s my knife.”

“And you’ll get it back later.” Winter huffed out a laugh from somewhere behind Elliot. “That doesn’t work on me when Lux does it, and it won’t work for you. Suck in that bottom lip, Tiggy. We’re trying to get these two to our destination without slicing and dicing them.”

There was another laugh, this one from Parker. “It’s barely a scratch, Elliot’s gotten worse shaving. You should’ve seen the mess he made when his first pubes came in—”

“Storytime is over if everyone wants to get out of this alive.” Elliot spoke through his teeth. “Not that I guarantee any of you will.”

There was a ruffling sound, as though someone was moving around the vehicle, then a warm, welcome presence at his side, followed by Damon’s soothing tone. “We’re probably better off going with Lux’s suggestion and just relaxing, my little python. Your friends are trying to do something nice, the only way they know how. Indulge them a little.”

“With a free lesson on how to remove my foot from all their asses?”

Winter let out a thoughtful hum. “You know, I’m trying to figure out if that could be kinky or not. With your feet? Baby, my ass can take a lot more—it’d barely tickle my prostate. Damon’s foot, however…”

There was the very distinct sound of a punch.

“ Hey! ”

“Don’t fucking joke like that.” Parker’s playful tone was gone. “Elliot’s man is off limits. I’m setting some fucking boundaries, man.”

There were a few long moments of silence, and Elliot wasn’t sure if the next thing he’d feel was the splatter of one of the two men’s blood. From the sounds of it, only Tig, and maybe Lux were on this joyride with them, and neither could breathing things up if they devolved to, well, homicide.

Even though he’d been recovering well, and his spirits seemed to be improving, Parker’s patience dropped to zero a lot faster lately. The whole situation with Gael was like an open wound still being drained.

And Winter’s sensitivity could be as unpredictable as the weather.

The light cracking noise coming from Winter’s direction didn’t give a clue as to where his head was at, but he sounded calm when he spoke again. “I swear, your right hook got harder, Park. Don’t do that again or we’re gonna have more than words, I pay my bills with this pretty face.” He sighed. “But I hear you. I’ll keep my seduction skills sharp on the willing. Tig, get over here.”

“If I look away from the map, we’ll get lost.” Tig’s voice was muffled. “Lux?”

“I’ve got them. Stay, Awolf… Good boy.” Lux’s knee slammed into Elliot’s thigh as he climbed over him and likely right into Winter’s lap. “You can practice on me.”

Elliot thunked his head back against his seat. “He absolutely can not. Lux, go sit with Parker.”

“I am. They’re both back here and I know the perfect way to help them get along.” Lux paused. “Cover your ears.”

“I can’t, my hands are tied!”

“Oh…well, pretend I’m sucking a great big lollipop.”

“Damn it, Lux !”

Coughing over a laugh, Damon shifted next to him, turning a bit so his back was angled against Elliot’s and their fingers could touch. “Stop torturing your brother, tiny.”

“I agree. And I consent to you torturing me.” Parker’s tone was light again. “In the name of peace, of course.”

Winter chuckled. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

“You are not letting my brother blow you right behind me, assholes.” Elliot shook his head at Lux’s giggle. Honestly, he knew the guys wouldn’t lay a finger on his little brother, he was too delicate for either of their tastes and protecting him was the number one priority for them all. Still, encouraging the brat would only make him worse. “Make him behave and I won’t try to escape and murder you all for the rest of the drive.”

“Now you’re asking for a miracle, man.” Winter groaned, the sound followed by a thunk and more shuffling. “Virgil, I’m coming to sit up front with you.”

Virgil’s here?

There was no argument about Winter riding shotgun, so obviously, Gerard hadn’t come, but his husband’s presence made this whole trip a lot more confusing.

Probably less likely to end in bodies buried on the side of the road…

But Elliot had less of a clue about what was going on than he’d started with.

The vehicle, which was probably Virgil’s catering van—an ugly thing he’d gotten at an impound lot a few years back, which had bulletproof windows and reinforced siding—rocked as the road became uneven, gravel pinging and dirt grinding like they’d gone off the paved road.

About twenty minutes of this, then the van stopped.

Frigid air rushed over Elliot as the doors swung open. Small hands, likely Tig’s, helped him step out, Damon bumping into his side a second later.

The blindfolds were removed in unison, Tig and Lux scrambling back to stand with the rest of the guys, hopeful excitement shining in their eyes.

Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Elliot took in the mountains around him, along with the deep forest, mostly bare, with a few patches of snow gathered in small mounts from a recent storm. The view was amazing, but what held his attention the longest was the log cabin in front of them.

With Gerard’s car parked beside it.

The man himself came out, walking right up to his husband and claiming a long kiss. “It’s all ready.”

Virgil smiled, wiping a smear of what looked like soot off Gerard’s cheek. “Thank you, my love. Now let’s say goodbye and get back home. I have some ideas on how I’d like to enjoy our vacation time.”

“Vacation?” Elliot held still as Winter removed the ropes, while Tig attempted to do the same for Damon, but only got them more tangled. “Since when do any of us take vacations? We recover for two months, debrief, train, and get back on the job.”

“And we will continue to do so.” Gerard slid his arm around his husband’s waist, a rare, genuine, happy smile on his lips. “But at least once a year…I’m arranging mandatory time off. For all of you.”

Drawing Elliot back against his chest, Damon wrapped him in a warm embrace, sounding just as dumbfounded about the turn of events. “Not that I’m complaining, but when was this decided? And why here?”

All eyes turned to Tig.

Who ducked into his hoodie, but not before flashing a mischievous little smile. “I had bugs in all the lofts…and most of The Inn. Gerard made me take them out, so putting new ones in without getting caught will take a very long time. It’s very useful—I overheard you talking about a trip you wanted to take to a remote cabin, but you weren’t going to do it, so—”

“—we gave you a little nudge.” Parker folded his arms, his puffy, light blue jacket pinned over his stump at the sleeve, the position making it impossible to tell anything was missing. “Don’t worry about how we found out, that one is getting another talking to from me.” He gave Tig a pointed look, then brought his focus back to Elliot. “But you need this. You and Damon. Two full weeks without any distractions, any well-meaning—or not-so-well-meaning—check ins, and without any chance of getting called in for anything short of an emergency.”

Gerard inclined his head when Elliot glanced over at him, positive the man would be the first to give him an out if he had any second-thoughts about taking a vacation. He held out a bulky phone. “If there is an emergency, I’ll contact you on this. It’s a satellite phone, so it will work no matter where you are. Keep it on you at all times.” His next gift was just as practical. The rifle he had slung over his shoulder. “And this. There are other weapons in the cabin—”

“And plenty of supplies.” Virgil nudged Gerard toward the van. “We’ll leave the car in case you need to head to town for perishables, but it’s a good four hour drive. No one lives in this area. You will have peace and quiet for your entire stay.”

Catching Damon’s eye, Winter grinned. “Or, if you get tired of the quiet, no one will hear your screams.”

Parker rolled his eyes and shoved Winter in the same direction ‘the dads’ were heading. “Seriously?”

“What? I wasn’t flirting!”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Yup. But you love me anyway.”

Frowning at his phone and giving it a few little shakes, Tig waved in Elliot’s general direction before walking in the other direction.

Lux ran to Elliot and gave him a quick hug. “I better grab him before he gets lost in the woods. But…it’s a good surprise, right? Are you happy?”

Lips curving, Elliot finally took a second to fully absorb the opportunity his family had given him and Damon. After the missions, the close calls, the constant pressures of the job—if not being on mission, always being prepared for the next one—they hadn’t gotten much of a chance for it to just be the two of them.

He even understood why the ‘surprise’ had been given to him by force.

This would’ve cost a lot to organize.

His mind would’ve obsessed over who he owed what and how much.

In the end, he wouldn’t have been able to accept the gift.

Now? He was here. It was done.

There were no gift receipts to use, no returns available.

And…I want this.

I wanted this way back when me and Damon first joked about getting time away.

The guys gave us what we never would’ve taken for ourselves.

“Yeah, bro. I’m happy.” Elliot kissed the top of Lux’s head. “Be good while I’m gone. And teach Awolf to stop chewing on my sneakers.”

Lux whistled for his pup, Awolf having stayed behind in the van. When the dog—who’d about doubled in size since his brother had gotten him—bound from the open door, Lux darted into the trees, following Tig’s tracks. “I can’t promise I’ll be good, but I’ll work on his shoe obsession!”

Before long, the van was packed with everyone except for Elliot and Damon, taking the long curve down the dirt road and out of sight. Other than the wind rustling through the trees and the odd bird chirping, the area was so quiet, it was almost surreal. The stillness was like something straight out of the Twilight Zone.

Maybe getting in touch with nature wasn’t really the escape from it all Elliot’d been dreaming about. What the fuck was he supposed to do with all his spare time? Roast enough marshmallows to feed all the bears? Hunt said bears? Build another cabin or a treehouse or a—?

“Ready for lunch?” Damon snagged Elliot’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and gently tugging him toward the cabin. “Since I’m still in control, I’m starting this vacation off with one rule. A very simple one.”

Elliot took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I can do rules.”

There, by the cabin, was a nice big ax. The pile of wood beside it was small.

I’ll learn how to chop wood, then get us a good stack going.

“Stop assigning yourself jobs in your head.” Damon laughed when Elliot shot him a suspicious look. “No, I haven’t become a mindreader. You have this intent expression on your face, like you fully intend to solve this whole vacation thing by doing a set list of tasks. But the point of a vacation is you don’t have to do anything.”

Sounded kinda crazy, but Elliot would do his best to play along. He gave his man a crooked grin. “Does that mean lunch is canceled?”

“Nope. I’m going to cook for you.” Damon slapped Elliot’s thigh when he let out an exaggerated gasp. “I can cook.”

“Yes. Ramen noodles and KD.”

“I made burgers last week.”

Okay, that was true, but… “Virgil was standing over your shoulder the entire time. And, hey, I get it, I’m not the greatest cook either, but I’ve gotten better because he taught me. He teaches all the guys.” Elliot looked around the cabin, with its small kitchenette and wood burning stove. “Only one problem.”

Damon turned to face him. “And what’s that?”

“Virgil’s not here.”

Inclining his head, Damon continued tugging until he got Elliot to the round wood table near the back door, snapping his fingers and pointing at a chair for him to sit. “True, but I can follow a recipe.” He reached over to the counter, lifting up a thick, old notebook that’d obviously gotten a lot of use. “And it looks like he left us a few. I won’t let you starve, my little python.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Elliot inched out of the chair. “But it’s a little cold, so why don’t I go chop some firewood to keep us warm.”

Dropping the recipe book on the table, Damon braced his hands on either side of Elliot’s chair, trapping him in place. “I have a better idea. Stay exactly where you are, or I’ll see if Winter left any of those ropes behind. If I tie you up…”

Pulse speeding up, head spinning, Elliot gazed up at his man. And suddenly, he had tons of ideas for what to do on this vacation.

None of them involving what he would consider work.

Not when he was with Damon, anyway.

He wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “You won’t be thinking about cooking anymore?”

Damon followed the motion with his thumb. “I’m having a hard time thinking about it now.”

Eventually, after Damon fucked him on the table, then over the woodpile when he snuck out to chop some, then while watching the sun set, a meal was made. Elliot wasn’t sure if he’d just worked up one hell of an appetite, or if his man had actually nailed Virgil’s recipe, but it was one of the best meals he’d had in a long time.

For the next week and a half, all his worries about vacationing right—and pretty much everything else—faded away. Some days, he actually sat by the lake, leaning against a sun warmed rock and did…absolutely nothing. Just lazed around, talking to Damon about the most random shit.

And loving every minute.

Both of them were used to being pretty physical, so there were plenty of hikes, swimming despite the temperature dropping to below zero overnight, and eventually, a bit of a wood chopping competition.

Elliot won by default after Damon dropped the ax and almost chopped off his big toe.

With the forced time off coming to an end, Elliot found himself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, a strange wariness bringing tension to muscles that’d been sore for all the right reasons lately. He wasn’t sure exactly what was nagging at him, except maybe whether or not he was really ready to go back.

There was no question over whether he wanted to, he was eager for the next mission. Any longer and he’d get a bit twitchy, craving something to kill other than the odd rabbit for dinner.

But he’d never been so removed from the job and the lifestyle of a merc unless he was seriously injured. Even as a kid, training had him surrounded by hardened soldiers and skilled assassins. That was his normal.

Would stepping away make things different when he returned?

I hope not.

Because if it did, the whole vacationing once a year thing would have to be scrapped.

Glancing over at Damon sleeping beside him, a little smile on his lips like he was having a really good dream, Elliot reconsidered his stance. His whole relationship with his man was supposed to dull his edge, but if anything, it’d made it sharper.

If it took a few days to get back in the flow of things, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I’m still me. Only…better.

Because Damon hadn’t tried to change him. He’d stood by Elliot’s side, developing into a force in his own right, and helped him become more of who he already was.

Rolling closer to his man, Elliot laid his head on Damon’s shoulder and closed his eyes. This vacation was almost over, but fuck it. He’d enjoy whatever time he had left.

A sharp snap coming from right outside the cabin door jolted him right out of bed. On his feet with the same swift, soundless steps he’d mastered in his teens, Elliot grabbed his glock and flattened his back against the wall by the door.

Shifting from the bed, Damon caught his eye, already reaching for the rifle Gerard had given him.

Elliot nodded, motioning for him to stay low.

An explosion of sound broke the silence, bullets shattering glass and splintering wood as a spray of bullets cut through the cabin. Hitting the floor, Elliot checked that Damon had done the same, pulse steadying when he saw his man had avoided so much as a graze. Nodding toward the other side of the door, Elliot waited a beat for Damon to get into position, then threw the door open.

Branches breaking in the distance pinpointed the shooter’s exact location as he ran.

“You wanna take the shot, or should I?”

The question earned him a surprised blink from Damon, then a grin, despite the insanity of the sudden attack. His man was getting damn good at adapting to things going SNAFU at a moment’s notice. “You go ahead. I might reach your level some day, but I’m not there yet.”

Taking the rifle Damon handed him, Elliot grinned back. “Hey, it’s not that much harder than shooting bunnies and you’re getting damn good at that.”

“Thanks, I had a great teacher. A blowjob for every kill definitely kept me motivated.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sighting the fucker who’d tried—and failed—to spoil what was left of their boyfriend honeymoon, Elliot picked him off.

Another plus side to vacationing in the wilderness?

No need for cleanup.

The animals would be eating well tonight.

Stepping across the old wood porch, Elliot frowned as his foot brushed something that didn’t belong. His light, but kinda twisted good mood dropped when he made out the large manila envelope, partially covered in glass and wood chips.

“Fuck.” Bending down to pick it up, he glanced over at Damon. “Check the car. If it wasn’t messed with, we’ve gotta get out of here. Our location’s been compromised.”

Damon inclined his head, jogging over to the car and giving it a thorough once over, while Elliot collected everything they might need from the cabin. Together, they managed to get on the road in record time, switched back into their roles so effortlessly, any concern Elliot had about slacking off for too long disappeared.

But he couldn’t erase the new problem that had landed, quite literally, on their doorstep. “Saint Claude must’ve had us followed. With the kind of money he has to throw around, there’s an endless number of mercs he can hire, just to fuck with us.”

“Is that what you think he’s doing?” Eyes locked on the dark road ahead, Damon frowned. “What if one of those bullets had hit you? That would’ve ended this game of his pretty quick.”

“If someone that sloppy could kill me that easy? I don’t think I’d hold his interest for long.” Elliot chewed on his bottom lip, still holding the envelope, real fucking tempted to toss it out the window. “He knew I’d survive. That whole show was just to deliver this.”

Damon nodded slowly. “This is his reaction to being ignored.”

“Yeah. Ignoring him won’t work—I should’ve known that, but I didn’t realize we were dealing with a fucking narcissist.” Elliot inhaled roughly, then tore open the top fold of the envelope. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. “He’ll just keep escalating things until he gets the reaction he wants from me.”

Reaching out, Damon put a hand over his. “Whatever’s in there, don’t you dare fucking give it to him.”

“I won’t.”

Easy to say, but a little harder to follow through with as Elliot pulled out a dozen photos, all of the same man.

In pieces.

Those who’d worked at the cafe had all been presumed dead, but when the cleanup crew finished doing their thing to create a viable cover story—without implicating Eros’ Eight—there was one person missing.

The server who’d had a thing for Parker.

Danny.

He's…not missing anymore .

Naturally, there was a note from Saint Claude.

To my sweet ange,

One last gift, one last invitation, which I hope you will finally accept.

I find myself missing you, more and more with each passing day.

Perhaps another will distract me from what has become an unfortunate obsession. Dear Parker, who I’ve already enjoyed taking a piece of. When he sees what I have done to his favorite toy, will he be as ungrateful as you?

Don’t keep me waiting, dear boy.

Parker’s first gift will be delivered today.

With all my love,

Julien Saint Claude

Damon’s jaw ticked as Elliot finished reading the note out loud. “He’s like a fucking jilted ex, desperate for attention.”

“Yeah, well, he's got it. But no matter what games he wants to play? I won’t give him the power to hurt anyone else I love.” Elliot stared straight ahead into the dark horizon, his hand in Damon’s, his mind on the mission that’d brought them together.

The same one that had almost torn them apart.

But the fear, the uncertainty, and his inability to trust those in his life who most deserved it? Couldn't be used against him anymore. He was so much stronger than the 'angel' Saint Claude had held down for his men.

And much less willing to surrender to the demands of his job without question. Not when he didn't have to face a single challenge alone.

You ran that night, Saint Claude. You knew you couldn't win.

I promise you, I'm gonna make you wish you'd kept running.

“This might not end tonight, but it will end.”

Sliding the photos carefully back into the envelope, Elliot set it aside and took out the phone Gerard had left him.

Then called his team to prepare them for what came next.

“On my terms.”