This time, his vision went black. Tristan gasped for breath, grabbed his chest as the pain stabbed through it. The attack on Josiah—the men who almost raped him, who could have killed him. Javier had organized the whole thing. He didn’t know why; didn’t fucking care, either.
“Are you sure?” He wasn’t sure how he managed to get the words out.
“Yeah, and he wants to protect this shit. Working with another gang against one of your own? That’s some fucked up shit.”
Josiah...bits and pieces of what he’d been told swam behind his eyelids. The fear he’d no doubt felt, and what could have happened to him, pumped through Tristan’s veins, keeping him going.
And Mateo, the nightmares, the pain he still lived with. Knowing his lover was alone for years, working for the man who took Josiah away from him. He felt like he would explode.
Ben had said before that Javier was trying to get guns. A lot of them. No.
He wanted blood. Revenge. The same way Mateo had gotten it against the men who attacked Josiah. “Kill him. I want him dead. I don’t care how you do it, but I want it to happen, now.”
Tristan hung up the phone and went straight for the house. He still struggled to breathe, struggled to see, but none of that mattered. He needed to know they were okay, needed to be with them.
Javier. Javier had hurt them, had kept Mateo from Josiah for years after he’d almost killed their lover. It would break Mateo to find out. They would both lose Mateo if he did, Tristan had no doubt about that, because he knew how he would feel in the same situation.
All the lights were out in the apartment by the time Tristan made it home. He snuck into their bedroom to see Josiah and Mateo both asleep in their bed. Tristan watched them for a minute, his body wanting nothing more than to climb in with them. To smother himself in both of them until he forgot about everything else. Until the knowledge didn’t make him feel like he was drowning. He would much rather lose himself in them.
Still, his mind went crazy. It wouldn’t stop spinning and thinking, and he knew he wasn’t in a place where he should be with them right now. As raw as he felt, he wouldn’t be able to keep this from Mateo. Christ, if Mateo found out, it would break him into a million pieces.
Quietly he left the room and went to his office. He sat in the chair, let it spin so his back faced the door, and leaned over, with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. What the hell did he do? What the hell had he done? He was taking a life. Wrong. He was protecting what was his. But it could cost him his job if anyone found out—worse, it could land him in prison.
Tristan startled when his cell vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, this time he saw Ben’s name on the screen. It was after midnight for him, which meant it was after three in New York.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked.
There was a soft chuckle from Ben’s end. “I’m usually the one asking you that.”
“You also don’t usually call this late. What’s wrong, Ben?” He couldn’t handle something to be going on with Ben right now as well.
“Nothing. I’ve just been thinking about you lately. I couldn’t sleep, and thought you’ve woken me up enough over the years for me to return the favor. Are you okay? You don’t sound like you were sleeping.”
Tristan sighed. No, he really wasn’t okay. Words filled his head—Josiah’s pain over the years at having lost Mateo. Mateo’s pain from having hurt Josiah, from the blood he still felt like dirtied his hands. All because of Javier.
“Are things okay with you and your... men? Is that what you call them? I don’t know how to refer to Mateo. Josiah has always been the boy to me, partly just because I know it pisses you off.”
Tristan took a deep breath. Thought about the things he’d spoken to Elliot about the past couple months, about the place they were all trying to get to, so instead of telling Ben nothing was wrong, he started with the truth. Some of it, at least. He had so much weighing him down, he had to get something out. “Things are hard. With Mateo’s past, we’ve had to work around situations in a unique way. We had a little hiccup in that today. His PO came by. I was here. We played if off well, but I still had an unexpected meeting after work. And I know him...I know this is eating him alive as well, which doesn’t help.”
“Nice try, but that’s not what has you so upset. Talk to me, Tristan.”
How did Ben know him so well when he’d tried to keep himself so detached? What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t tell Ben any of it...but the words, the knowledge, already felt like acid eating away at him from the inside out.
