Page 43 of The Archer


  chest. As he tried to read it he relaxed slightly, and Shawn took the opportunity to wrap his legs around the bigger man and squeeze right at his lower back. If done

  correctly, the move would snap the spinal cord, but as much as Shawn felt the urge to murder, he didn’t want to paralyze the other man. Then they would have to take care of the fucker. So, he simply exerted enough pressure to hurt like a bitch.

  Brandt arched his back and cried out in pain, and Remy’s grip on Shawn

  instantly loosened. Shawn flipped himself and Brandt and landed the other man on his back beside Remy on the floor. He stayed there, straddling Brandt and glaring down at him as Remy sat up and smacked him on the head.

  “That’s not playing fair!” Remy chastised, and he pushed Shawn sideways

  off Brandt’s body and sent him sprawling across the floor. Shawn rolled and ended in a crouch, ready for another onslaught, but it never came. Remy leaned over Brandt, looking at him in concern, and Brandt was just lying there, nodding and grinning.

  Thiago made a ‘pay up’ gesture with his hand in Carl’s direction as he gazed at

  Shawn in satisfaction. Carl and Nikolaus both ignored Thiago and smirked at Remy

  and Brandt.

  Shawn could have killed them all at that point. Stupid fucking bastards.

  Where was his fucking gun?

  XXIV

  THE Archer wasn’t certain if he was happy with this most recent turn of events.

  Melinda Oliver was a free agent, the Archer and his men had used her numerous times before, but she had no loyalties to speak of and she sold her wares to the highest bidder. She would also gladly sell information if she had it and the price was high enough. She also wasn’t stupid. If she was being watched, she would know it, and she would certainly know why.

  If they went waltzing up to her like they planned and requested the amount

  of weaponry they needed to request, it would be a dead giveaway that they were the ones everyone was after. Melinda wouldn’t know whose side they were on, only that both the Organization’s men and the Archer’s own men were looking for them, and

  she would probably call in both sides to let them fight it out and take the money and run.

  The Archer was in this too deep to rely on anyone other than himself and the

  five men he was with. He couldn’t get any messages out now that they were all

  together again, and he couldn’t count on mercy from either side. Even his own men didn’t know he was one of the Six. If they were called in, they would kill the six of them much sooner than the Organization was likely to.

  The Archer sighed and closed his eyes as he tried to refocus on the activity

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  around him. He really hated that name. The Archer. It was a stupidass name. Next

  time he decided to go all evil genius on the world, he was going to pick his own

  fucking name.

  XXV.

  NIKOLAUS blinked and cleared his vision slightly. He’d slept like shit last night and he seemed to be phasing out a lot today, despite all the excitement. At least he didn’t seem to be the only one.

  The activity had ceased and they all seemed tired and unfocused. Shawn still

  crouched warily, but he paid more attention to a spot of carpet next to Remy and

  Brandt than he did to anything else. Carl and Thiago stared at their companions with smirks on their faces, and Remy petted Brandt and cooed to him like one would to

  calm a large animal. Brandt’s hand had found its way to the small of Remy’s back, ostensibly to show him where Shawn had hurt him, but it looked extremely sexual to Nikolaus. The entire picture was most unnerving, and Nikolaus wanted it stopped. He cleared his throat.

  Everyone snapped out of it and they all turned to look at him.

  “Shawn,” Nikolaus said commandingly. “If you don’t like the dress idea,

  come up with a better one.”

  Shawn blinked at him, and Nikolaus knew he had surprised him by not being

  timid and afraid to speak. Fuck that. He knew now that none of these men were going to hurt him, and though they were all quite scary in their own ways, Nikolaus wasn’t exactly the lightweight he had made out to be. He could fend for himself, and he was sick of the inactivity.

  “Well….” Shawn looked at them all shiftily as he stood up and shook

  himself. “I need a smoke. Let me think,” he said finally as he walked past Carl and Thiago and made his way out to the balcony.

  Nikolaus watched Shawn step onto the balcony and close the door behind

  him before he returned his gaze to Brandt and Remy. It appeared that Shawn had truly hurt Brandt, and Carl was now helping Remy get the big man to his feet.

  “Come on, I’ve got some salve we can rub on you,” Remy said as he helped

  Brandt from the room and toward the bedrooms. Thiago and Nikolaus watched them

  go, and when they both turned back around Carl was grinning at them.

  “Ten to one they end up fucking,” the man crooned happily.

  XXVI.

  BRANDT allowed Remy to lead him back to the furthest bedroom, and he sat

  unmoving on the end of the bed as Remy dug through his bag.

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  “Take your shirt off, Wally,” Remy said without turning around to face him.

  “This shit gets everywhere. It’ll ruin your clothes,” the younger man added as he proceeded to slip his own T-shirt over his head and let it flutter to the ground.

  Brandt stared at the myriad of scars that covered Remy’s torso, and his eyes

  were drawn to the slender hips where two thumbprints could clearly be seen just

  above the waistband of Remy’s briefs. There was also a faded bruise on Remy’s

  shoulder that looked vaguely like the marks of a bite, and Brandt’s body flushed with hot ice.

  Brandt remembered making those marks on the night he’d tried to screw

  Remy into the wall while the others watched. Brandt shifted uncomfortably at the

  memory. His back protested the movement and he stiffened.

  “I’m sorry,” Brandt said softly, and Remy ceased his rummaging and looked

  over his shoulder at Brandt.

  “What was that?” he asked as he straightened up.

  “I’m sorry for everything. For hurting you,” Brandt said as he waved his

  hand vaguely through the air.

  Remy cocked his head and looked down at the little tin of salve he held in

  his hand. Brandt saw him lick his lips nervously and then look at the door, and he wondered what the other man was thinking.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” Remy finally said with a weak smile. “It was Shawn’s

  bony ass that did all the damage,” he added with a stronger smile and he took a step toward the bed and twirled his finger through the air. “Turn over and lie flat,” he ordered. “This’ll take the sore out.”

  Brandt looked at him blankly and Remy’s smile faltered. They stared at one

  another for long seconds before Remy looked down once more. He bounced the tin of salve in his hand and made a clicking sound with his tongue, and Brandt watched him unblinkingly.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” Remy repeated slowly. Brandt’s gaze drifted down to

  the fingerprints at Remy’s hipbones and he looked back up at Remy pointedly. He

  was surprised to see deep brown eyes staring at him curiously. “How big is the hole in your marble bag, really?” Remy asked suddenly.

  Brandt blinked at him. No one had ever asked him to what degree his

  insanity ran, not in quite that exact phrase, anyway.

  “I’m not sure,” he said finally, not certain of how to answer.

  Remy smiled wanly and knelt in front of Brandt, placing his hand on one

  knee and the tin of salve on the
other as he looked up at him earnestly.

  “Can I trust you?” Remy asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Brandt’s.

  “Yes,” Brandt said without hesitation. Remy nodded and stood once more.

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  “Then it doesn’t matter how many bats you got in your belfry, does it? Roll

  over,” he said with another twirl of his finger.

  “But–”

  “If we don’t get it on quickly, it won’t do any good. He probably bruised you

  pretty good and you’ll need it,” Remy said as he pulled at Brandt’s shirt impatiently.

  Brandt pulled the shirt off obediently and stood up. He knew Remy was distracting him on purpose, trying to avoid the painful subject of what had happened with Shawn, but his back did hurt something awful.

  He would have expected Remy to take a step back and allow Brandt the

  room to undo the fly of his jeans, but Remy remained planted where he stood, and he tilted his head slightly as his nose and mouth brushed against Brandt’s chin. Brandt breathed in deeply and found his hands suddenly lightly gripping Remy’s elbows as the other man undid his jeans for him. He watched the movements of Remy’s hands

  as if mesmerized, and when he finally looked up, he found Remy’s eyes on him once more. The jeans fell to the floor as they stared at one another, and Remy’s eyes

  sparkled as he ran his hands under the waistband of Brandt’s boxers.

  “Wouldn’t want to ruin them,” he said in a low voice.

  A thrill ran through Brandt’s body at the sensual sound and he nodded

  silently. He inhaled deeply one last time as his boxers were pushed past his hips and to the floor, and then he turned and stretched out naked on the bed.

  Brandt felt the bed dip slightly just before Remy straddled him, and he

  tensed involuntarily as Remy’s salve-covered hands met his body.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed this meeting,” Brandt blurted, desperately needing

  something to say as Remy’s hands worked the mentholated salve into his back.

  “What do you mean?” Remy murmured as his fingers dug into Brandt’s sore

  back.

  “Melinda. It’s too much trouble,” Brandt said succinctly.

  “Nah. Shawn’ll come round. That or he’ll think up a way out of it. And it’s

  not like our planner is overloaded with tasks lately.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Do you love him?” Remy asked quietly, his hands never ceasing in the slow

  massage. Brandt tensed again. He knew he’d been the cause of all the strife in the group of late, and the guilt had been slowly driving him back to sanity. He didn’t like it at all. Perhaps a nice chat with Remy was just what he needed.

  “What type of love do you mean?” Brandt asked, wanting to be entirely clear

  with his answer.

  Remy froze above him, and Brandt wondered what he had done wrong now.

  He really had to get someone to give him a crash course in etiquette.

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  “You know, the more I talk to you, the more I like you,” Remy said, and

  Brandt could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. Brandt grinned in relief. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Brandt furrowed his brow and tried to look over his shoulder at Remy.

  “Yes,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Really?” Remy asked dubiously. “Shawn’s called me crazy for years, but

  am I really, d’you think?”

  Brandt tried to roll over so he could look at Remy as they spoke, and Remy

  rose up onto his knees to let him do so. Brandt lay there looking up at Remy, and Remy settled back down onto Brandt’s hips and chewed on his lower lip as he waited for Brandt to answer him.

  “Okay, there are different types of crazy, just like there are different types of love,” Brandt said with certainty. “I love Shawn. I do. But no more than any of the rest of you.” Remy’s eyes widened at that. Brandt reached up and took Remy’s face in his hands, pulling him down by his head until Remy bent over completely and

  flailed slightly. He had his hands out to his sides to keep the salve from ruining the duvet, and the only thing holding him up was Brandt's hold on his face. He blinked several times as he looked down at Brandt, and Brandt couldn’t help but think how adorable he was, even if he was a trained killer. “Don’t think I don’t care about you,”

  Brandt growled.

  Remy blinked rapidly but said nothing, and Brandt pulled him the rest of the

  way down and kissed him gently. Remy’s hands came to rest on Brandt’s ribs, and the hot/cold of the salve sent shivers through Brandt’s body. The shivers ignited a subtle burn in the pit of his stomach, and all memory of what they were discussing was gone as Remy muttered and opened his mouth wider to deepen the kiss.

  “You’ve ruined your bed,” Remy murmured as Brandt wrapped his arms

  around Remy’s body and pulled him down, pressing their bodies together. Brandt

  could feel the duvet sticking to his back, but he didn’t care. What was a little grease spot on a duvet when you could burn the damn thing anyway?

  “Let’s make it worthwhile then, shall we?” he growled as he flipped them

  over and kissed Remy as gently as the fire rushing through his veins would allow.

  Remy wrapped himself around Brandt, and somehow Brandt managed to

  undo Remy’s jeans and slide them far enough down for Remy to kick them off.

  “There’s lube,” Remy gasped as he pointed vaguely toward the pillows.

  Apparently, Remy had the same philosophy on foreplay that Brandt did. He knew

  there was a reason he loved these blokes.

  “Getting to know Thiago better, were we?” Brandt murmured as he dragged

  both their bodies up the bed and rooted around beneath the pillows.

  “Mmm,” Remy responded as he nipped lightly at Brandt’s neck and

  shoulder.

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  “Bastard’s fit, isn’t he?” Brandt asked in amusement as his hand finally

  found the lube and he bent down to take Remy’s mouth in another, rougher kiss.

  Remy nodded against Brandt’s mouth and spread his legs wider, hooking them over

  Brandt’s hips as Brandt’s hand travelled down the smooth torso.

  Remy groaned and Brandt smiled against the other man’s mouth. He popped

  the tube open and poured lube out all over Remy’s chest.

  “Cold!” Remy hissed.

  “You’ll be warm soon enough,” Brandt said in a low voice as he trailed his

  fingers though the goo. The head of his cock nudged against Remy, and Remy spread his legs wider, inviting entry. “Not yet,” Brandt murmured into Remy’s ear as he bent over to kiss him once more. Remy whimpered, but Brandt didn’t care. “You think

  you’re mad?” he inquired softly as he trailed his fingers down Remy’s stomach.

  Remy forced his eyes open and looked up at Brandt blankly.

  “I think I might be,” Remy whispered pleadingly. He sounded lost and

  desperate and confused. Brandt remembered that feeling. That feeling of being alone even in company and not knowing why. Brandt wanted to help Remy see the light,

  and he nibbled lightly on Remy’s ear as his fingers entered Remy’s body slowly.

  Remy groaned and lifted his hips upward, but Brandt carefully avoided his prostate.

  “Please,” Remy whimpered.

  “I want to show you the burn, Dixie,” Brandt whispered. “Then you’ll see

  what it truly means to be mad,” he growled as the heat raged within his own body, and he made certain the younger man was ready before he slipped his fingers back out and slowly pushed into him.

  X
XVII.

  REMY was still wondering where their conversation would have led if Brandt hadn’t kissed him. He didn’t really care, just so long as Brandt’s hands and lips and tongue continued to do what they were doing. But he was curious all the same. Detached

  curiosity. Definitely detached.

  He’d fucked Brandt before, but in Remy’s mind that time didn’t really count.

  There had been far too much else going on, both physically and mentally, for Remy to consider that time a real fuck. This was obviously going to be different.

  Brandt entered him slowly, being phenomenally careful as Remy squirmed,

  trying to get more contact. Trying to get Brandt to push deeper. Harder. To pound into him and chase away the demons.

  But Brandt did none of those. He rocked into Remy gently, eliciting moans

  and pleas and sighs and the most phenomenal need Remy had ever experienced. He

  could feel the pleasure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach, but it was faint and warm and so enticingly close that Remy thought he might scream in frustration.

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  Was that what Brandt meant by 'the burn?' Because it was enough to drive

  anyone mad, not to mention someone who thought they were already half crazy to

  begin with. Remy scrabbled for something on Brandt’s body to grip, and finally

  Brandt reached back, took both of Remy’s wrists into his own hand, and pinned Remy to the bed.

  “You feel it, Dixie?” Brandt gasped into Remy’s ear as Remy’s eyes rolled

  into the back of his head. His body was completely restrained now, and that had

  always fuelled Remy’s lust. But now, with this torturously slow pace added into the mix, Remy thought he might not live through it. “The burn?” Brandt whispered, and Remy moaned wantonly as the hot breath gusted across his face.

  Was this what Brandt felt all the time? A burn like this? No wonder he was

  obsessed with fire!

  “Please,” Remy murmured as Brandt buried his face in Remy’s neck and his

  grip tightened around Remy’s wrists. Remy found himself unable to move at all. He was completely at Brandt’s mercy and, with that thought, the pleasure grew stronger and began to spread.