Secretly, all three of them were in favor of young Camlann being appointed as the boss's successor but didn't have the courage to openly express their opinion, afraid that the others would vote them out of the organization. The rules governing the Scottish Mafia were strict and harsh, an exclusion equaling a death sentence in most of the cases, and all the three men had wives and young children to protect and raise.
Lately, however, more and more important gang leaders, including the most prominent figure of the conservative faction, George MacIntyre, started to see the danger having MacTeague as boss would pose. They got tired of the man's arrogant, almost tyrannical attitude, and were ready to negotiate with those who wanted Camlann as his father's successor.
This situation can't continue any longer, Darrow thought as he climbed out of the car and headed to Fitzgerald's home. We have to do something; otherwise, this man would destroy everything the boss, his father, and grandfather built, and the consequences would be catastrophic. We can't let that happen.
Unaware of his temporary boss's plans, MacTeague rubbed his hands, a smile of satisfaction twisting his lips in an ugly rictus. If all the fool's guests enjoy reading as much as Fabian Bloom did, finding the will would be a piece of cake. Thanks to the surveillance system he secretly installed in the library, he would know when they found it and would invent a pretext to pay them a visit. His life was going to be just perfect. MacTeague evilly grinned.
CHAPTER 24
Broken ribs. Broken bones. Damaged spinal nerves. Multiple concussions. Alasdair lay in bed, eyes closed, remembering how wave after wave of shock hit him while he sat in his office listening to Doctor Douglas telling him about the state Ardan was in when Graeme MacGowan found him and Brodie on that landing strip minutes after they escaped from that hellhole.
His husband's life literally hung by a thread that night, Alasdair remembered the man saying, but he fought tooth and claw, coming back from the death. The redhead smiled as the conversation with Ardan's rescuer continued to play in his head. The man was immortal, Douglas said. None of his patients showed such determination and will to recover.
After overcoming the shock, Alasdair felt his heart swelling with pride at the thought that the man the other doctor spoke with so much awe and admiration was his husband. Ardan came back for him and the children they raised together, to watch them grow, fall in love, and have kids of their own.
“Why?” he whispered, caressing his husband's chest and abdomen with the tips of his fingers. “Why did you keep coming back to me, even when I hurt you?”
“Because I fell for you...hard,” the answer came in a love-filled voice. “Gods know how much I've fought against this feeling. How many times I've told myself I had nothing to offer you, but I couldn't resist the pull I've felt every time I saw you.”
“I was a spoiled brat. I insulted and rejected you every time you tried to initiate a conversation. I hurt your feelings and treated you horribly, but nothing I did made you give up on me. Why?” Alasdair asked again, his voice somewhat pained.
“You were a lonely, scared teen whose brother abandoned him in an unknown city and who was severely abused by his boyfriend. Plus, our first encounter must have terrified you.” Ardan rolled on one side, kissing his husband's temple. ”I love you, Spitfire. I always did and always will, and I'll come back to you every time, no matter what or how long it would take.”
Alasdair didn't reply; he briefly stared into his husband's turquoise eyes, then circled his waist with one arm, gently pulling him closer. Eyes closed, the redhead peppered butterfly kisses on Ardan's jawline, advancing to the neck where he stopped for a short while, nuzzling it and inhaling the man's scent.
Slowly, Alasdair licked his way behind his husband's ear, then took the man’s earlobe between his teeth, lightly sucking on it, driving the other one crazy with lust. Ardan moaned, deeply and needy, rubbing his crotch against the redhead's, his heartbeat becoming erratic, breaths shallow.
Over the eight years since they made love for the first time, Alasdair learned to read his lover, and he always knew what and how the man needed. Right then, Ardan wanted to be possessed and caressed, his soul ached to be soothed in a way only his Spitfire could. Smiling reassuringly, the redhead helped his husband roll on his back, gently parted his legs, and spat in his hand, slicking his already hard cock.
Using more spit, Alasdair prepared Ardan for the intrusion, then carefully pushed inside him, inch by inch. The other man's ass welcomed him, ready to be filled, greedily taking his length inside. Hungry for intimacy and closeness, Ardan bucked his hips, meeting Alasdair's slow thrusts, the man's tentative, sweet touches on his chest and shoulders setting his skin on fire.
The redhead enjoyed making passionate love to his husband, but a couple of months earlier, the couple's sex life reverted to the state of innocence from when they've been together from the first time. At the beginning, Ardan's shyness in bed broke Alasdair's life until one night when he finally understood.
For his husband, that was a way of reinventing himself, of putting the pieces of his soul together once again, and he did that by using the most beautiful memories of their life together. Alexander-fucking-Kane damaged Ardan's body and nearly broke his spirit on that island; Alasdair's husband needed a strong foundation to build on, and he found it in that almost virginal lovemaking.
Wave after wave of pleasure hit the two husbands with each tortuously slow thrust, intensifying their lust and desire for each other. Ardan brushed the tips of his fingers against the skin on his Spitfire's chest, insisting on the pink buds of the redhead's nipples, until the two bits of flesh turned to two pebbles.
Alasdair cried victoriously as his seed filled his husband's ass to the brim while Ardan's hot load splattered their chests and abdomens. With the last drop of energy, the men rolled on one side, facing each other, listening to the other one's soul telling them how unique, important, and precious they were.
Ardan smiled, the light in his magnificent, turquoise eyes brightening the room and tucked a rebellious curl behind his Spitfire's ear, chastely kissing him on the corner of his seductive mouth. Letting out a soft, barely audible moan, Alasdair reciprocated, then slowly ran the tips of his fingers through his husband's hair, which was in need of a haircut. With a small, almost invisible shrug and a grin, he decided the man was hot regardless of the length of his hair.
“What are you thinking about? It has to be about me. I know that grin of yours very well.” Ardan traced the contour of the redhead's lips.
“I was thinking how lucky I am to be married to one of the sexiest guys in the Universe, and I still can't believe the said guy chose me, of all people.” Alasdair gently caressed his husband's face, tears glistening in his eyes. “Now is your turn. What made you smile so beautifully?”
“You and the thousand ways you affect me,” Ardan whispered, kissing the redhead's brow. “When I first saw you, I could hear your desperate, silent cry for help and protection, but I never imagined I would end up being protected by you. I expected you to heal people's physical wounds but couldn't believe when your magical touch started to heal the scars running deep into my soul.”
Alasdair didn't answer; emerald eyes brimming with tears, he ran his hand up and down Ardan's back just like the man used to do to him back when he wasn't of age yet. He felt the muscles in his husband's back relaxing under his touch and saw how the man's eyes became heavy with sleep until they finally closed.
Looking at his husband's sleeping form, Alasdair finally understood that waiting for him to come home from the rescue missions wasn't enough; he also had to stay safe and keep their children out of harm's way. The redhead already knew that nothing and no one could stop Ardan from coming back to his family; it was his duty to protect that family and give his husband a reason to fight for.
************
Graeme stopped in front of the massive gates, looking around confused and a bit disoriented. “Is this the sanctuary for abused and neglected children known as The Base? My name is Graeme MacGowan, and I'm here to see...”
“Mister MacGowan, what an honor!” One of the beefy guards took a deep bow, then turned to those on the other side of the gates. “Open up, boys. Let's give a warm welcome to our special guest.”
“Thank you, but anyone would have done the same,” the newcomer said, moved by the guard's words. “Your boss is a formidable man; one I wouldn't want to have as my enemy.” The man smiled. “Can Viggo, my guard, accompany me?” He gestured to the tall, thin, younger guy accompanying him.