Clover looked back every now and then, his pale face pink with the effort. The ungrateful little shit wouldn’t be causing them any more trouble than he already had. There would be no forgiveness for lies, which Tank for some reason decided to ignore so far, just because they were spewed by such pretty lips.
He had friends in New York, then he didn’t.
He’d been abducted on a trip, then it turned out a shady friend sold him off.
For all they knew, the whole orphan thing could be yet more bullshit.
Clover might be a sexpot and the hottest twink Drake had ever met, but he was still not worthy of trust, and in their line of work, that was an unforgivable trait.
He froze when Clover stopped in a small clearing between tall trees. The boy bent over, resting his hands on his knees, as if this short run completely robbed him of breath. Ridiculous.
Drake snuck up behind him, feeling guilty over ogling the pert ass in tight jeans even now, but no one needed to know what went on in his head. He’d teach the kid a lesson pronto, and hide no details from the rest of the crew. He briefly thought of the disappointment they’d all face, but sickly branches needed to be cut.
He kicked the back of Clover’s knee, and when the boy fell over with a yelp, he grabbed the slender wrist and cuffed it. Clover didn't even know what had hit him when Drake pulled back the other hand and closed the other cuff around it.
“Going somewhere?”
Clover stilled with his back under Drake’s knee, motionless on the leaf-covered ground.
He already knew his grand escape was over.
“I asked you a question.” Drake said, keeping his fingertips where the cold metal met flushed white skin.
He loved cuffs, even if this twink was now in bondage for the worst reasons. Drake didn’t like being touched by people, but restraints made it much more bearable. He would take his pleasure where he could.
Instead of answering right away, Clover writhed under him like a dying fish. He screamed and grabbed at Drake’s T-shirt with those pretty pink fingers, so cute in his helplessness that Drake enjoyed pushing him right back down into the grass more than he should have.
“Get off me! Get off!”
“No. You’re coming with me, so that all the guys can see what a little rat you are. Just taking off on them when it’s convenient. Not that it was a smart move out here,” Drake said, looking around the forest. Despite Clover’s pathetic fitness level, he’d gotten far enough from the road that no one would hear him shout. And even if they were closer than it seemed, the presence of hills would mute sound efficiently enough.
“I will not be sold! I am done with this!” Clover thrashed with surprising strength, and Drake leaned back, curious what the boy would do if he believed he’d managed to push him off.
Clover got to his knees in haste and bolted.
So maybe it was indulgent, but watching him run with the cuffs on, already out of breath, was teasing the side of Drake’s predator instincts he didn’t usually express.
Drake let him have those few seconds of advantage, but then jumped into action, chasing his prey as if his life depended on sinking his teeth into that tender meat. His legs were longer. He was healthier, stronger, so taking the boy down again was child’s play. Drake pushed him face-down into the moss and sat on his tight ass, for that short moment allowing himself to fantasize about there being no pants to keep them apart.
“Sell you? What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, annoyed and aroused when each upward push of Clover’s hips caressed his groin.
“Tank wants to sell me! He said it himself! I’m done being stupid!” Clover sniffed as if crying could help his cause now. The struggling became less frantic, and soon turned into shudders. “He used me and now he’ll also collect the money for me. Just like Jerry! I trusted him and he-he…” Clover sucked in air in fast, deep gasps, hyperventilating so intensely he couldn’t finish the sentence.
Drake’s brain came to a halt, battling over the concept of Tank ever selling an innocent person to anyone. Tank’s towering presence often made Drake feel alert, no matter how long they’d been friends, but he’d been the one person to give Drake a hand and pull him out of the hell his life had been before their fateful meeting.
Revulsion was so intense it left a bitter taste on Drake’s tongue.
“Are you stupid? It was a fucking diversion.” Drake exploded, personally offended by the very idea that any of them would participate in such dirty trade. They were criminals, but they also had rules.
Clover strained his neck to look over his shoulder. The whites of his eyes had a pink tint from the crying, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore and just watched Drake from behind the messy waves of hair. It was hard to imagine something so annoying could also be so beautiful—like the prettiest white Persian kitten that also scratched the couch to death.