Nischal [leopard spots 9] (19 page)

“And you’re just now telling me this?” Preston shouted as fear caused his temples to throb. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but Paul might be hurt.”

“I understand, Mr Hardy. I’ve been coordinating a rescue attempt, because, frankly, I don’t believe the man who has your brother is going to let him go alive.”

Preston gasped and closed his eyes. He felt Nischal’s support, his comforting thoughts, just as surely as he felt Nischal’s hands on his shoulder and nape.

“It’s my fear that he would rather die and take Paul with him than turn himself in, and I won’t allow that to happen,” De la Garza said firmly. “We will
not
let you lose your brother again.”

Something in the way she made that proclamation had Preston thinking she knew about the pain of losing a loved one.

“Thank you.”

“Just doing my job, Mr Hardy.”

Preston got the car parked at an abandoned gas station. “Are you going to call our parents again?”

There was a slight hesitation before she answered in a kind voice. “Actually, Mr Hardy, I believe your parents are supposed to be arriving in Santa Fe this afternoon, barring any trouble with their flight.”

Preston’s vision blurred with a multitude of black and grey spots. “What? I don’t understand.” He couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Your parents are flying here from Hawaii. I spoke to them right before I called you earlier. They were packing then, and your father said he’d been about to call me to ask where to find you. After hearing the news about Paul, they decided to come here instead. They knew you would decide to come, too, I think.”

“They could have called me.” But he could have called them, too, instead of leaving everything to De la Garza. His parents weren’t the only adults in the family—Preston had sat back and let his hurt feelings dictate his inactions for years. “Shit. I should have called them.”

“That’s not for me to say, Mr Hardy, but it’s my belief they wanted to meet with you while they’re here.” She said something to someone else. Preston couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sounded urgent. “There is a hotel two miles from the private airstrip, a Manor Inn and Suites. If you could wait there, I would like to meet up with you again in person after we retrieve Paul.”

“Thank you, I’ll be there. Me, and a couple of friends.” He wasn’t going to hide Nischal from anyone. There was no reason Agent De la Garza should suspect that Nischal and Sabby were in any way involved with the investigation. And she couldn’t know they were shifters. Shifters were something Preston was certain very few humans knew were in existence.

“I’ll text you the address of the hotel, and I’ll be in contact once we’ve freed Paul.” She disconnected the call seconds later and Preston’s phone promptly buzzed, letting him know he had a text. He checked the address and put it into his phone’s navigation app.

“She said Paul’s being held hostage,” Preston began, then shook his head. “No, that makes it sound like the man holding him is wanting something in exchange for Paul, and my understanding is that he doesn’t want to give himself or Paul up. He’s willing to die, and to kill Paul rather than let him go.”

Nischal scowled. “If he cared for Paul at all, he’d do what is best for him and let him go. Then again, the asshole who bought him obviously has no heart, no soul.”

“No conscience,” Sabby added. “What a fucking evil man.”

Preston couldn’t help but be surprised to hear Sabby curse, but he completely agreed with both of the other men. “I just want my brother to be happy, to be free. To get out of his captivity alive.”
And to be happy someday.
“I’m afraid he might not do any of that.”

“He will,” Nischal assured him. “Just have faith. He’s your twin, and even if the two of you aren’t identical in personality, I bet he has the same strong heart you have. He won’t give up. He hasn’t yet.”

Even though Nischal didn’t know Paul, his words calmed some of Preston’s fears. They also reminded him of what his brother was like. “You’re right. He’s stronger than me, believe me. Paul’s never known a stranger, and he might not like the way he’s been painted by God or whoever, whatever, designs us, but he didn’t sit back and take it. He made himself into the kind of man he wanted to be, inside and outside. He…he didn’t try to change his personality when people made fun of him for being too fem—whatever the fuck that really means. Paul is just Paul, and the only person he’s ever let judge him is himself. The only person whose opinion mattered when it came down to how he should act and talk and walk.”

Preston wondered how he’d forgotten all of that. “All I’ve focused on is him missing, maybe being dead, and on getting revenge for his death. He wasn’t dead, I underestimated him and I should have known better. I should have known better,” he repeated, thumping the steering wheel.

“You were afraid, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Sabby had been taken like Paul had. You love him, you fear for him. When he vanished with nothing but blood left behind, assuming the worst was probably the most logical thing to think. Had he ever done anything like that before—the gone missing part?”

Preston shook his head. “Never. We were close, just not like those twins who can read each other’s mind close. I knew he wouldn’t have run off and hurt me like that, which is why I assumed he was…deceased. Paul being sold as a slave or whatever it is they call human trafficking never occurred to me. He must have been kept locked up.” Preston stopped before he ended up bawling after all.

“It happens, apparently even here in America.”

“Yeah.” Preston sniffled and swiped at one eye, then the other. “But he’s going to be rescued, and I’m going to have my brother back.”

Chapter Seventeen

Nischal watched Preston walk back and forth across the suite’s living room. “You’ll wear a path into the carpet. De la Garza said she would bring Paul here after making sure that was what he wanted.”

Preston stopped and looked at him with a fearful expression. “But what if he doesn’t? What if he hates me for not finding him? What if he’d called before and I didn’t figure out it was him? I’ve had unknown numbers call where no one spoke on the other line. What if—”

“Stop,” Nischal said as he stood up and walked over to Preston. “He called you. He wouldn’t have done that if he was mad at you. Paul will want to see you.”

“At least our parents aren’t here yet. That would be twice the panicking on my part,” Preston said ruefully. “Their flight from California getting delayed is probably not something I should be grateful for, but I so am.”

Nischal’s palms turned sweaty every time he thought about meeting Preston’s parents. Preston had tried to tell him that it wasn’t just Preston’s parents’ fault they didn’t have a relationship, but Nischal wasn’t buying it. Preston was a good man. His parents had got butt-hurt over the fact that their sons were gay, and those same parents had chosen to maintain only the bare minimum of communication.
They
were the parents who should have been setting an example…
A good one, not a bad one as they have done up until now.
Nischal didn’t argue over who was at fault for the strained relations, instead only murmuring, “It’ll be fine.”

“You’re nervous about meeting them.” Preston looked steadily at him. “Is it because you want to impress them, or because you’re afraid you’ll say something you won’t regret even if you should?”

“More the last one,” Nischal admitted. “I don’t know that I care what impression I make on them. I’m not impressed with them at all.”

Preston nibbled half of his bottom lip as he contemplated that. Then he sighed. “I have to say, I don’t care what they think of you, of me, of anything at this point. It’s true that I could have worked harder at building a relationship with them, but it’s also true that we wouldn’t have the chasm between us and them if they hadn’t first told me and Paul that, while they loved us, we were still sinners who needed to repent, blah blah blah.” Preston waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. Typical homophobic bullshit, but they still loved us, they said. I hung onto that for too long. It was enough, I told myself. They love us regardless…but there shouldn’t be a regardless, should there?”

Nischal was relieved to hear that Preston got it. His parents had caused the chasm with their bigotry. “No, there shouldn’t be. They should have loved you and Paul unconditionally, like you and I’d do if we ever had kids.”

Preston opened his mouth then went paler than his usually milky complexion. Even his freckles faded.

Nischal grabbed him at the shoulders, concern twisting him up inside. “Pres, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Preston opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out other than moist puffs of air.

“Preston?” Nischal pulled Pres to him and held him gently. That was genuine fear he was feeling from his mate. What had Nischal said? He rolled back his words and tried to hide his disappointment. “Children. You don’t want any.”

Preston finally found his tongue. “Can—I read a book once, with shifters and they could, uh. The males could get pregnant. You can’t—”

“No,” Nischal answered quickly, trying not to be amused by the idea. “Hell, no. Where would it come out of me from? Or you?”

“No, no, no,” Preston said, shaking his head. “Ouch, don’t even go there. I was afraid one of us could get knocked up. I guess you think I’m stupid.”

“I think you’re wonderful,” Nischal corrected. “And since Sabby is in his own room, I could show you just how wonderful you are if we had the time, but someone is coming down the hall.”

Preston stiffened then held his breath as a knock sounded.

“Come on.” Nischal took his hand. “Breathe.” They walked to the door together. Nischal stepped aside to let Preston answer it.

Preston unlocked the door, then jerked it open without even looking through the peephole first. “Paul,” he gasped an instant before he was bowled back by his brother throwing himself at Preston. Nischal just managed to keep Preston from falling over by stepping behind him. He caught Preston at the hips while Preston held onto his brother.

Agent De la Garza stood in the hall watching, a satisfied look on her face. At least, Nischal assumed the woman was De la Garza. He hadn’t ever met her, but the agent had said she would personally escort Paul over. She met Nischal’s gaze and gave him a half-grin.

Nischal smiled a little himself and gestured her in. He thought she could slip past the brothers.

As she did so, he couldn’t help but look at Paul. The same height as Preston, but thinner, and with his long orange-red hair layered, he could have been mistaken for a woman. Paul was too thin, much like Nischal himself, and there were fading bruises under one eye. A pink scar followed the line of his right jaw. It was such an even, thin scar that Nischal wondered how it had happened. It almost seemed too precise.

Preston saw it right after Nischal did. He touched it and Paul turned his head away, then he faced his brother again and a defiant look turned Paul’s eyes from merely green to entrancing.

“Dr Solakav wanted to make sure I carried his mark, but he didn’t want to ruin me,” Paul said in a light, airy voice that belied the gravity of his confession.

Preston sucked in a sharp breath and glanced back at Nischal. Paul looked up at him then, too. “Nice, Preston. He’s a stud.”

Nischal blushed and Preston stood a little straighter. “I’m keeping him, that’s for sure. Paul.” Preston touched the scar again, and this time Paul didn’t pull away. “Are you hurt anywhere? These bruises…” Preston ghosted his fingers over the yellow spot beneath Paul’s eye. “He did this, too.”

“I’m fine,” Paul answered, but he averted his gaze and Nischal saw him rub at the left side of his torso. “He won’t be hurting me anymore. The FBI’s assassins took him out. Finally.”

Agent De la Garza cleared her throat. “Mr Hardy—Paul Hardy, I mean. I did tell you the FBI does not have teams of assassins, nor do we have singular assassins.”

“A single assassin,” Paul corrected. “It just doesn’t sound right using the word singular with the plural ‘assassins’.”

“Right. Be that as it may, to call any of our agents assassins—”

Paul moved away from Preston enough to cock his head and plant his hands on his too-narrow hips. “Someone shot him dead-centre between his eyes. Blew that fucker’s brains all over the place. It took me a half hour of scrubbing in the shower to get all of his defective grey matter off of me. He was assassinated, and y’all should be taking credit and broadcasting that shit. There’d be a lot less criminals, let me tell you. They’d be too scared to commit crimes.”

De la Garza pointed at him. “You need to tell that to our government. Or perhaps not, because it’s more violent than they can handle. The FBI doesn’t employ assassins in any capacity. Now, are you staying here with Preston and…?” She turned to Nischal and arched a brow at him.

“Nischal,” he said as he held out a hand to her. As far as he knew, he didn’t have a last name.

De la Garza shook his hand. “Interesting accent.”

Nischal ignored the hint to tell the agent where he was from. “Thanks.” He let go of her hand.

“I’m staying here,” Paul told her. He lowered his lashes, and the way he looked up at the agent through those pale strands of hair reminded Nischal of Preston. No wonder since Preston and Paul were identical twins—even though they didn’t look it now.

After De la Garza left, Paul hugged Preston tightly for a long moment. Nischal stepped into the kitchen to give them some privacy, but they followed him in a few seconds later.

Paul walked right up to him and gave him a fierce stare. “Nischal what?”

Nischal shrugged. “No idea. Just Nischal, as my brother is Sabin, only.”

“Where’s your brother?”

Nischal leaned over and tapped on the wall. Sabby’s room was on the other side of it. “Right here, though I imagine he’ll be at the door shortly.”

“You’re not going to grill my boyfriend,” Preston told Paul. “I’m not a kid.”

“He seems familiar,” Paul said as he narrowed his eyes. “I can’t place him, but considering how much I was—” Paul stopped and pinched his lips together tightly.