His emerald eyes shining with lust and passion, Alasdair gestured for his soulmate to turn around, and, squeezing another dollop of shower gel into his palm, applied it to the other man's back. Ardan looked vulnerable and somewhat lost as he stood in the shower, legs spread, palms planted against the wall, and Alasdair couldn't resist the impulse to hug him from behind.
The older man let out a small sigh of contentment, reveling in the comfort and safety his husband's hug provided. Taking a short trip down the memory lane, he did a recap of all the moments when his beloved Spitfire was at his side, the redhead's love and unwavering support keeping him going even in the darkest of times.
Since the very beginning, long before Ardan realized, his destiny intertwined with that of the bigmouthed, yelling redhead, their souls becoming one. Together, they were unbreakable, indestructible; their relationship was built on a solid foundation, and nothing could come between them, Ardan thought, his heart pounding faster in his chest.
A light pat on his shoulder brought the man back to the pleasant reality of him and his husband showering together. He looked over his shoulder, the turquoise eyes becoming incandescent when he saw the washcloth Alasdair was offering him. That day, more than any other time, the gesture with such a special significance for the two of them melted Ardan's heart, making him feel loved and valued.
Turning around, the man took the body wash bottle from his husband's hand and, pouring liberally into his own, started to lather the redhead's body, touching it with a mix of ardency and consideration, like a devout worshipping his idol. Gazing over his Spitfire's perfectly shaped form, Ardan knelt at his beloved's feet and, putting his head on the man's abdomen, inhaled the sweet, calming scent.
Heart filled with love for his husband who demonstrated his immense affection in thousands of beautiful ways, Alasdair turned the shower on and helped him to his feet, rinsing him and covering each inch of skin in sweet kisses. Eyes closed, Ardan leaned on the shower's wall and abandoned himself into his Spitfire's caring hands, his safe haven.
Later, dried and changed for the night, the two men cuddled together, chatting about everything and anything, enjoying each other's presence. With a mind of their own, Ardan and Alasdair's fingers laced together in a silent promise. Their bond, forged by the fire of the terrible trials they faced, wasn't going to be broken by men or gods.
CHAPTER 2
“Here you are, the two prodigal sons.” Ardan smiled at the sight of Tarrin and Ira in the kitchen's doorway. “Breakfast will be ready in ten. You look hungry like two young wolves. Didn't your Granddad and Grumpa feed you?”
“Pater, um...” the blond boy started in a hesitant voice, swallowed hard, and then continued, seeming on the verge of crying. “There are two gentlemen waiting outside. Said they want to talk to you about...your father's death. They showed us their police badges.” Drained of energy, the teen plopped down on a chair, shivering slightly.
“Ira, go and invite the said gentlemen in. It's not polite to keep them waiting outside.” Ardan turned around, relaxing his voice. “And son, don't panic. I have nothing to hide. Most likely, I'll accompany the officers to the police station, answer some questions, and come back home before you know it.”
“I wouldn't give the kid false hopes if I were you, MacNamara,” a voice croaked unpleasantly. “By the way things look, you may see him again when he's your age or older. If you survive prison, that is.”
“And I wouldn't make statements that may prove false in the end, officer,” Ardan answered, his turquoise eyes shining dangerously. “As long as I'm not being accused of anything, I want you to show consideration to the inhabitants of this house.”
“Threatening people. It's what you do best, isn't it, MacNamara?” The second police officer, a tall, lanky guy, stepped into the kitchen, speaking in a cold voice. “And, when those people become too inconvenient, you eliminate them. Just like that.”
“Can someone tell me what the hell is happening here? Who are you to come and harass my husband in his own house in front of his teenage son?” Alasdair, who’d been messaged by Ira about the situation, stormed into the kitchen, anger boiling inside him.
“The police, and you must be the husband,” the first officer replied in the same croaking voice. “You seem like a nice guy. I don't think you’d be talking like that if you knew what a monster you married. He’s under arrest for killing Godfrey MacNamara in cold blood. Someone witnessed the horrible fight between this specimen”—the officer pointed to Ardan—”and his victim.”
“Yes, I had a heated argument with my late father where I spoke in a loud voice. I admit that. However, it was because I found out that he attempted to kidnap my son and force his friend into prostitution. Both of them are here, they can confirm...”
“Right,” the first officer cut Ardan short in a mocking voice. “And you want us to believe their testimony isn't influenced in any way by you or husband dearest. We’ve had enough of your bullshit. Put your hands behind your back like a good boy and don't resist arrest. It will make things even worse if you do. You have the right to remain silent...”
“Call Pater,” Ardan calmly spoke while doing as instructed. “Inform him about this. Everything will be alright.”
“If you think a Catholic priest, or any other minister, for that matter, can get you out of this mess, think again, MacNamara,” the croak-voiced officer coldly spoke. “You'll need a goddamn good defense attorney to avoid serving for life without parole.”
Ignoring the policeman's acidic comment, Ardan locked eyes with Alasdair, and the redhead got the message. Instead of following his husband and the two officers outside, he stayed with the two teens, who were deep in shock, unable to process what had happened minutes earlier before their eyes.
All the way to the station, the two policemen continued to provoke Ardan, who was too lost in his own thoughts to answer them. Playing the scene of the last confrontation between him and Godfrey over in his mind, the man tried to figure out who the witness of that heated conversation was. Frustration and helplessness slowly overtook him when he suddenly remembered the delicate Asian boy who walked past him and gave him a terrified stare.
There was something in his eyes, a veiled pain, a sadness that touched Ardan's soul from the moment he’d detected it. The boy didn't seem very happy to be there, and the man suspected that the heated argument he’d overheard wasn't the only source of the utter terror filling his eyes. “Pater and Spitfire will find that boy, and he will open up to them. The poor soul is in dire need of affection and protection,” Ardan said to himself, his thoughts taking a turn from the situation he was caught in.
Back at his home, Tarrin was the first who reacted, breaking into heavy, uncontrollable sobs and blaming himself about everything. Ira put his arms around the blond's thin, shaking form and cradled him, rocking back and forth, caressing his wavy, short strands, and whispering reassuring words into his ear.
When the sobs died down, Ira glanced at Alasdair, who nodded in approval, before taking the emotionally drained Tarrin to his room upstairs, helping him under the covers. In a matter of seconds, the youth was asleep, but it was more of an agitated slumber as he thrashed his head on the pillow, mumbling incoherently.
Meanwhile, Alasdair called Fabian, Ezra, and Daniel who, about an hour later, appeared at his doorstep, accompanied by Eugene and Elliott. Judging by the expression on his faces, the men didn't bring good news, and indeed, the first thing the redhead found out was that Ian had been suspended for the duration of Ardan's trial.
Technically, he still ran the DA's office and could assign a prosecutor to the case, but the hot shots from the Department of Justice strongly “suggested” he stay away from that particular case. The problem solver Ian was already saw a way out of that interdiction and came up with a back-up plan. However, for the time being, he was the only one who knew the details of said plan.
Elliott offered his expertise as a former prosecutor, and he was more than ready to switch sides, becoming Ardan's defense attorney. In the short time he had between Alasdair's call and the arrival at the mansion, Elliott, helped by Tarquin and Elijah, did some digging and found out that the police weren't bluffing; they really had a witness. Apparently, the young man was enrolled in a special protection program, and no one could get in touch with him.
The sharp instincts and gut feeling that helped Ezra so much when he was an investigative journalist warned him that something was terribly wrong about the haste the police showed in dealing with Godfrey MacNamara's murder case. The two officers had a hostile attitude and were hellbent on provoking Ardan and making him react violently so they could justify the eventual brutality.
There was nothing more they could do but wait and see where the whole messy thing was heading to, Fabian concluded with a heavy sigh. And, of course, all of them had to pray to all the known deities to give Ardan strength, determination, and an iron will so he could reign in his temper and not react when provoked.