Three hours later, he figured he’d given Malcolm enough time to spot him while letting Avery get some much-needed rest. He needed to talk things over with Jack too. Sitting on his hands waiting wasn’t working. Nathan needed action. He intended to draw Malcolm to him. Dear Daddy would come if lured with the right bait—Nathan on a silver platter.
He returned to the house with Keegan bitching every other step.
“Damn shoe stores. You’re a frickin’ dude, act like it.”
“Get over yourself, Texas. Even cowboys wear boots.”
“Boots and jeans and flannel. One-stop shoppin’. But today…that was pure torture. Even Rory doesn’t put me through that.”
“No, she takes James with her.” Keegan’s partner was a clotheshorse and looked good in just about everything he wore. Nathan grinned. “Want me to grab James the next time I need help in the dressing room?”
Keegan growled something uncomplimentary under his breath. Nathan unlocked the door and released the alarm that flashed. Once he’d resecured the house, he called out for Avery. And got no response.
He and Keegan exchanged a glance.
“Go get him.” Keegan drew a weapon from behind his back, and Nathan could feel the psychic energy flare. No doubt the tall Texan readied telekinetic power to kick some ass if needed.
Nathan hurried into the bedroom, but he found nothing. No sign of a struggle, no sign of Avery.
“Huh.” He looked around and saw the jeans and shoes Avery had stacked on a side table were now missing.
Keegan entered, his eyes narrowed, wearing his game face. Huge and mean, Keegan invited trouble, and Nathan was happy to have him on the same team. The man held a gun in one hand and his cell in the other.
“James isn’t answering.”
Nathan’s heart raced. “Go find him. I’ll look around in here.”
“Rest of the house is clear,” Keegan offered, then handed Nathan his gun. “But take this just in case. You see anything wrong, yell for me.” Then he left to find his partner.
Nathan searched the house from top to bottom but saw nothing of Avery, only more to make him worry. Avery’s wallet, cell phone, and truck keys remained on the dresser. His gun was missing, and for some reason that made Nathan feel worse.
In looking for a clue to explain his lover’s disappearance, he tossed the bed.
What he saw under Avery’s pillow drained the blood from his head.
A black KA-BAR, the same type of knife he’d used to stab Malcolm, lay on the bed, a touch of red at the tip of the knife. The blade had been meticulously cleaned, the blood on the end a purposeful touch.
Nathan was afraid to handle it, scared to see his lover dead, killed at the hands of a madman. But he had to know.
He gripped the handle and flinched as psychic overload blasted him. It was indeed the same knife he’d used on his uncle—father…
Avery swore as a knife pricked his throat. He lay in bed but had the gun he kept close at all times pointed at Malcolm, ready to fire.
Malcolm shook his head. “If you want James Foreman’s body to be found, you’ll put that away.”
Avery lowered the gun and placed it in Malcolm’s hand, and Malcolm turned the weapon on Avery.
“Very good. Now sit up, slowly. Let’s see what little Nathan considers so precious, hmm?”
Avery’s expression didn’t change. “I’m going to kill you.” The even way he said it must have impressed Malcolm, because Nathan’s father smiled.
To Nathan’s horror, he noted a resemblance he’d never seen before.
“I think I like you, Major Holton. Your association with that bastard fuck of mine notwithstanding, you’ll make an admirable foe. I look forward to our dance, my young friend. Now quickly. Get dressed.”
Avery put on jeans, a sweater, and his shoes. Before he could reach for his jacket, Malcolm stepped behind him and shoved the blade deep into his side.
Avery grunted but didn’t flinch, and Malcolm tucked the gun into the back of his pants while his other hand held tight to the knife inside Avery.
“Such poise. You’re an old hand at this. And won’t that be fun?” Malcolm’s smile turned mean, his eyes narrowed, and he shoved Avery away, onto his hands and knees.
The dark blue of Avery’s sweater hid his wound, but Nathan saw him clutch his side. Saw his fingers stained red.
“Nothing life threatening for you, not yet.” Malcolm leaned down and stabbed Avery again, this time in the meat of his shoulder. His precise movements indicated a graceful skill, one that had only grown keener with time. “That’s going to stiffen up on you later. Be harder to fight back with that.” Malcolm spoke in a kind of clinical commentary. He grabbed a towel by his side. “Now stanch that blood. Out to the truck and get in.”
They walked, Avery in front of Malcolm, to a dark green SUV. Once there, Malcolm nodded to the back. “Open it and get in.”
Avery exploded in motion. He punched Malcolm in the face twice and tackled him to the ground. They wrestled for a bit before Avery suddenly slumped and stopped moving…
Nathan’s heart seemed to stop beating.
Then Malcolm shoved Avery off him, and Nathan saw the needle stuck in Avery’s neck.
“You fight well for a slut.” Malcolm’s grin showed bloody teeth. “Nathan is a screwup, but he at least chose someone who can handle himself. Mostly.”
Malcolm heaved Avery into the truck with some effort, but the strength in the older man was shocking. He wiped his mouth and nose free of blood and smoothed down his coat. Then he picked up the gun that had fallen and tucked it back into his jacket.
He shut the back hatch of the vehicle, disappeared once more into the house, and returned. When he entered the car, he looked down at the blade Nathan and Avery had been directed to bring back.
But when he spoke, he directed his words to Nathan. “Come to me, Nathan. Come to Daddy. You know where. And come alone, or your ass fucker dies.”
The vision cut off, as if willed away by the man at the center of it.
Nathan’s rage was so great it took him a few moments to realize Keegan and James had joined him. James looked like he’d been hit by a bus. He had a goose egg on his temple, a few cuts on his face, and he cradled his wrist.
“I have to take him in. His head wound is bad.” Keegan looked angrier than shit, but Nathan knew most of it was worry. “No sign of Avery?”
“No. Take him to Doc Cannon. She’ll make him right in no time.”
Keegan nodded. “Let’s go.”
“I can’t. I have things to do.”
“Dammit, Nathan. I can’t leave you here.” He looked panicked when he glanced down at his partner, lover, and unofficial husband. “We can’t wait. We need to leave, now.”
“So go. Trust me on this. I have to handle it my way.” Nathan paused. “Keegan, if I don’t do this, Avery’s going to die.” He let the other man see what that meant to him, his heart in his eyes. “I can’t let that happen.”
“Fuck. I know that look.” Keegan sighed. “Better hurry. I’ll give you an hour. But soon as I send out word, Jack is gonna have every available body on your ass. Take my truck; it’ll buy you some time. I’ll take yours.”
They swapped keys. “Good luck,” Nathan offered. “I’m sorry, James.”
Foreman tried to wave at him, then lost consciousness. Keegan raced away with James and called over his shoulder, “Don’t let down your guard. Avery’s depending on you.”
Nathan gripped the keys, grabbed the KA-BAR, and hurried into Keegan’s SUV. Thankfully they’d gassed up after shopping before heading back. He’d drive as far as he could, then continue as long as he had to. With any luck, he’d reach Malcolm in Bloomville sooner than the fucker anticipated. Back to the place where his personal hell had come to a brief, satisfying conclusion. One he hoped to have once again.