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“I talked to Richard this morning,” he said and set his keys on the hall table. “He's making dinner tonight to wish me luck at school.”

“We'll have to think of some way to thank him.” I grabbed his ass.

He giggled and strolled down the hall. I followed him, loving his laugh. It called to me.

He stopped in the living room doorway, his laughter cut short. I stepped around him. The room was dark and Richard was slumped in a chair at the far corner, his forearm resting on the arm of the chair, a glass dangling from his fingers.

“Richard?” Matthew's voice hitched.

I crossed the room and knelt next to the chair. “What's wrong?”

He finally lifted his head. He glared at me for a moment before reaching for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the end table. The bottle clanked against the rim of the glass as he poured more of the booze. He was drunk. It wasn't a good look on him.

He finished pouring and said, “Kid, can you give me and Luke a minute alone?”

Matthew stepped closer to the chair. “What's wrong?”

“I'm not planning to stop drinking any time soon, and I don't want you to see me like this.”

I grabbed Richard's hand and stilled the glass before it could reach his lips again. “What happened?”

He let me steer the glass away from him. “Matthew, please— ”

I set the glass on the coffee table. “He's fine.”

“What is it?” Matthew asked as he sat on the arm of the chair.

“I couldn't close the condominium deal.”

Matthew laid a hand on Richard's shoulder. “Why?”

Did he have to ask?

“The funds I needed weren't available.”

Matthew began a slow rub over Richard's tense muscles. “I thought you said you had enough people on board this time?”

“I did. But some bank transfers I authorized yesterday moved the investors’ money into a series of new accounts.”

Matthew looked to me then back to Richard. “New accounts?”

“Accounts that have since been closed.”

Matthew shook his head. “I don't understand.”

“I didn't transfer the money, but someone made it look like I did.”

Matthew looked my way again.

I moved to the couch. “This doesn't make any sense. He can't possibly think this is going to work. No one's going to believe you thought you'd get away with a one-day transfer of millions of dollars.”

“But they will believe I intentionally inflated property values and lied to my investors. At the same time the funds were stolen, someone bought property in Ellis Park under my company's name.”

“Ellis Park?”

“Yeah. Not a neighborhood where investors build high-rise condos. More like low-rent trailer parks.” Richard reached for the glass of whiskey but didn't take a drink. “I've seen this kind of thing before. They'll investigate the business, me. I'll lose all my investors. They'll freeze my assets.” He finally met my gaze. “We could lose the house.”

“There's got to be a way they can track the money.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. They aren't going to take my word that I didn't do this. Or that your father— ” The ring of the phone cut him off.

Matthew stood. “I'll get it.” He didn't move, though. He reached for Richard and forced the other man to look at him. “You aren't going to be in trouble for something you didn't do.” He kissed Richard's forehead and left the room.

“Guess ‘kid’ really does fit him.” Richard swallowed the whiskey until the glass was empty.

The phone continued to ring, sounding loud in the dark room.

“Luke! Richard!”

Richard sprang from the chair and, despite his drunken state, made it across the living room in a quick clip. I followed, and we stepped into the dining room where Matthew stood with his back to the wall, staring off to where a lone figure sat across the room.

The phone stopped ringing.

The light was off, and dark shadows fell across the man's face, but as soon as he spoke, I knew who sat at our table.

“Hello, Richard. The senator wanted to thank you for the generous donation to his campaign fund.” The revolting tone sounded all too much like my father's. “You have such a lovely home. It's a shame you're going to lose it all.” The fingers on one hand tapped the tabletop. I didn't want him touching our furniture, tainting our home. “I'm here with a message. You'll leave these men and live alone or you'll lose them. Those are your only options.” He slunk out of the chair, a lion hunting the prey. Light fell on his hard face and cast him in an eerie glimmer. “Make your choice, Luke. Their lives or your dick.”

“Get the hell out of my house!” Richard stepped forward, faltering at first, but he seemed to sober more with each step.

Matthew moved to my other side. “He'd really hurt us?”

Fowler smirked. “Not on his own. He has a way of convincing people to do all sorts of things. Just ask Luke's mother.”

He was right on that. Somehow my father had convinced her to hate her only child. Did I want to know how?

Fowler continued. “He's going to be a powerful man soon. I'm more than willing to help him succeed. We can make this all go away. A simple bank error. The money will be returned. Everyone will be safe.”

“Fuck you.” I spat the words. “I'm staying with them. And I'm going to the police.” My hands clenched into balls at my sides, fist-sized missiles ready to strike at him.

The smirk never faded as he stepped farther into the light. “You'll embarrass yourself. No one will ever believe you. All you can do is what he's offering. He'll leave them alone if you'll give them up. The reporters are going to follow you, report on everything you do. He wants you living alone and acting the part of the supportive son when they do. You have one week to decide.”

“I'm not leaving. You tell him I am not leaving them. Now get out of here!” I lunged at the man. Anger blocked out every other thought, every other reaction or instinct. Richard caught my arm and stopped me from charging ahead with all of the rage finally, powerfully escaping me. I met his pleading eyes.

Fowler's next movement happened fast, and I had trouble understanding what had occurred until he stood behind Matthew. He wrapped an arm around him and raised a knife to the kid's throat.

All I could see were Matthew's eyes— those sweet, loving, cheerful eyes. Only they weren't cheerful, and Matthew wasn't laughing or bouncing. He was frightened and alone. Even with the mere feet between us and him, he was alone in the man's grip. One slight movement of the knife and...

In that moment, I understood hatred.

I hated my father.

I hated this man standing before us.

I hated that my life choices had destroyed Richard's business and had put a knife at Matthew's throat just as surely as if I'd done the deeds myself.

But I wasn't to blame. I hadn't been the one to twist my life with them into evil acts of hatred. I hadn't asked my father to despise my life and fear my choices would undo his.

“Don't hurt him.” Richard no longer sounded strong or confident or angry. He sounded small, nervous. He knew the damage a blade could do. “Let him go and leave, and we won't call the cops. Just— don't hurt him.” He lifted a hand and stepped toward Matthew.

Fowler clenched the knife. The blade grazed along the pale skin. A scratch. A warning.

Richard stilled. “Don't.”

The intruder hauled Matthew tighter against him. Seeing Matthew touched by the hands of depravity sent an icy chill through every part of me.

Matthew shook. His hands clutched at the other man's arm.

I had to do something. Anything. I couldn't stand still for one more moment.

They were five feet from me. I could move damn fast, but would it be fast enough?

My eyes connected with Matthew's. He glanced down at his right arm and back to me with a small nod.

I waited for his move. I had to be ready. Richard was still drunk, but he'd do whatever he could to save Matthew. He'd back me up if I needed it.

It went down fast. Matthew elbowed Fowler in the gut. Fowler doubled over, dropping his hand with the knife until it was nowhere near Matthew's exposed throat. Matthew leaped forward.

I was damn proud of him, and I almost didn't move in time.

Almost.

I charged forward and caught our intruder's throat in one hand and his wrist in the other. I gripped tight on both counts, stilling the knife in his hand. I threw my weight at him and shoved him against the wall, slamming the back of his hand into the hard surface over and over until he dropped the knife.

“No one is hurting them. Not my father. Not you. No one.”

My hands squeezed his neck harder. Anger and rage flowed out the ends of my fingers as they dug into flesh.

His voice came in a whisper, traveling on the last bit of air. “He can do whatever he likes. He always does.”

“Not this time.” My fingers dug in deeper and intensified the choke. The man seized my arms. He wrenched back and forth, gasping.

A hand touched my shoulder. “Stop, Luke.” Richard stood at my side. “Let him go.”

Despite the anger, the fury, the need to end it all, I did what Richard asked.

Fowler stumbled away and fell to his hands and knees. He wheezed and gulped, his body not under his own control. When he could stand, he scurried off like a rat, coughing and sputtering as he went.

My gaze lingered on the open door of our home, and my feet lurched a few steps forward. They weren't ready to let him go. What would I do if I caught up to him?

I froze, staring at the door where Fowler had made his exit. My thoughts settled on nothing but the intent, determined hatred that had overcome me when I'd seen the knife at Matthew's throat.

Matthew.

I spun around. Richard had toppled over, and Matthew was holding on to him. I rushed to them, and we maneuvered Richard into a chair.

We didn't speak. We didn't move. Our eyes stated the relief we couldn't voice.

I reached a hand out to Matthew and pulled him to my chest. I kissed the dark waves above his ear and wrapped my arms around him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. The intake of breath was soft, but ragged. “Yes. Should we call the police?”

I breathed in his scent. He smelled sweaty and spicy, like Matthew. He smelled alive.

“I don't know,” Richard said. “Not sure they'll believe us. Everyone loves the senator. But that man broke in here and almost hurt you. We could at least call to report him.” His pale face couldn't hide his exhaustion. He still smelled of the booze.

“Why don't we get you cleaned up,” I said. “Then we'll decide what to do.”

“Okay. Go shut and lock the door, kid.”

“Right.” Matthew sped off, but neither Richard nor I made a move up the steps until he was back at our sides.

“How did he get in?” I asked Richard. “It was locked when we got here.”

“I was pissed when I got home.” He stared at the closed door. “I don't remember locking it. I'll get the locks changed tomorrow in case he stole a key or something.”

“Okay.” I moved toward him. “Let's get you up upstairs.”

In the bathroom, Richard removed his clothes and climbed into the bathtub. Matthew undressed and settled behind him, letting Richard rest against his chest. He soaped up a washcloth and worked it over the big man's body.

I hadn't seen him hold Richard like that before. My chest tightened as I watched him care in such a physical way.

How could I leave them?

I knelt beside the tub, reeling. My hands felt like they'd spent the entire day clasping onto something and had just recently let go. The stillness of the clenched fists in my lap unnerved me. They didn't seem a part of my own body. I lifted my hands, opening and closing my fingers, trying to release the lingering tension. Only it wasn't possible. The tension was everywhere. My hands fell back to my lap.

“My father's going to destroy your business. He sent Fowler here to threaten your lives.”

“It appears so.” Richard raised his arm out of the water and clasped my hand. He lifted our entwined fingers onto the smooth edge of the tub.

“He could've killed Matthew.”

“I'm okay,” Matthew said. The expression in his gaze told me how alive he was.

“For now.” I stood and paced. The realization of everything hit me like repeated strikes to a punching bag. “He broke into your home— our home— and attacked Matthew. This is my goddamn family, and he can't do this. I won't let him. I won't let him take anything else from me.” I stopped and stared at them. Two smiling men beamed up at me. “What the hell are you so happy about?”

Matthew laid his cheek against Richard's temple. “Did you hear? Family.”

“I did. Get over here, Luke.”

I sank to my knees beside the tub. Richard pulled me to him. He made love to my mouth, his hands wet and firm on each side of my face.

Matthew petted me— my neck, my back, my chest— all the while repeating one word. “Family.”

“Get undressed,” Richard said. He turned his head to the side and kissed Matthew. I stood and undressed, never taking my eyes off them. They looked as great together as they did the first night at the Haven when I lay sprawled out before them. Yet, watching them in the bathtub before me was better. More intimate, more significant in our own home.

I wouldn't let my father run me away from them.

I sat beside the tub again.

Richard shook his head. “No, climb in.”

I stood in the water and straddled Richard's lap. The sensation of my balls sinking into the hot water sent a shiver of anticipation and need throughout my body.

Richard's mouth met my lips again. I tasted Matthew there.

I rocked my hips, and my cock connected with Richard's. The warm water around my shaft and the pressure of his dick against mine overwhelmed me.

Richard twisted an arm around his own back, taking Matthew in hand. He pitched back and forth, putting more pressure against Matthew's prick and rubbing forward against me, the water slapping at the sides of the tub with his movements.

My hands grasped at his shoulders and dug in, and I rocked faster. He wrapped a large hand around my dick and his. I threw my head back and pushed into the tight embrace, torn between driving into it and letting Richard take control of my pleasure. I clutched at his shoulder harder with one hand and let my other hand wander back for Matthew.