No Angel Page 9

  “Come sit with me,” Miles said, and Charlie cuddled on his lap, Brad leaning against Miles’s legs as they lounged on their bed. “Let me try and explain. If I had treated you like this and apologized, I think it would’ve been okay. You and I have a different dynamic than me and Brad. Because I’m his daddy, I feel like I messed up big time and that an apology won’t cut it. I’ve damaged his trust in me, and I need to restore that. Does that make sense?”

  Charlie frowned as he processed it. It sounded logical, yet at the same time it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Does that mean it’s somehow more serious when you hurt him than with me?” he asked.

  “God no,” Miles said, shock audible in his voice. “If that’s what you heard, I did a shitty job explaining it.”

  “It’s not that you said it, but it’s kind of how it made me feel, I guess.” Charlie shot Brad an apologetic look. “I know Brad needs your attention more than I do, and it’s not like I’m jealous, but this feels different, like he’s more worthy than I am or something.”

  Miles’s arms tightened around him for a second before he relaxed again. “Fuck, I’m making a godawful mess of things,” he said, his voice dripping with regret. “I’m so sorry, my love. I never meant to make you feel that way and I’m sorry I did. He’s not more worthy than you are. I hope you know I love you both equally, in as far as you can even measure love.”

  That, Charlie did know. With all his heart. “I know. I really do. But then why this necessity for punishment when you hurt him and not with me?”

  Miles kissed the top of his head, then said, “Brad has been hurt and disappointed by people a lot, so it’s a sensitive thing with him. The way I treated him, I made him feel invisible and not good enough all over again, and considering the dynamic we have, that’s a grave offense. It’s shaken his trust in me as his daddy, but also my own sense of being worthy to be his daddy, if that makes sense. To restore that balance, to demonstrate to both of us that I fucked up and need to face the consequences, I think he and I both need that punishment. He needs to see my behavior has the same consequences as his, that I hold myself to the same standard if not a higher one than I do him.”

  Charlie let that thought play around in his head. That did make sense. It was hard for Miles to demand obedience from Brad and threaten him with punishment when his own errors didn’t have consequences. “So Connor is gonna do what, spank you?”

  “He might. I haven’t asked him yet, but the punishment would be up to him,” Miles said.

  “Why Connor?” Charlie wanted to know.

  “It can’t be Brad, because that’s not how we function, and it can’t be you either, because you don’t have it in you. So I needed someone else, and while Noah is kind of our pater familias, Connor is the disciplinarian. He’s also taken over for me in disciplining Brad when I’m gone, so I figured he’d be the right choice.”

  “He hits hard,” Brad said with awe in his voice. “The last time he spanked me for being bad, I had trouble sitting for two days.”

  Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it again. The thought of Miles with a red bottom was strangely satisfying. He giggled. “You may regret asking him.”

  Miles dipped Charlie’s head so they made eye contact. “Are you laughing at me now?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

  Another giggle escaped from Charlie’s lips. "Brad’s right. That dude hits hard. I saw Brad’s ass the last time, and it was as red as Santa’s suit."

  Miles shrugged, his previous worries gone from his face. “Well, that’ll teach me then.”

  “Daddy, you don’t have to do it,” Brad said, suddenly sounding worried. “I appreciate the thought, but—”

  “It’s the right thing, sweetheart. Plus, I have the two of you to take care of me afterward, don’t I?”

  Brad snuggled closer, putting his head in Charlie’s lap. “Thank you for doing this, Daddy.”

  Miles bent over and kissed Brad. “Anything for the two of you. You’re my everything, you two, and don’t you ever forget that.”

  They snuggled for a long time after that, which—of course—resulted in a blow job for Miles, and because Brad looked at him with such needy eyes, Charlie let him blow him as well. That was only fair, right?

  He wasn’t sure how the conversation with Connor had gone, but when Miles came back, he reported Connor was on board and that they’d do the punishment after dinner. Miles was calm, but Charlie felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. On a rational level, he understood why Miles needed to do this, but he didn’t really connect with it emotionally. It was part of that dynamic he never fully got, simply because he didn’t feel that way.

  There were times when he’d get sad about that. Not because Miles and Brad ever excluded him, because they didn’t. He was part of it as much as he chose to be. It was more that it seemed to bring Brad so much contentment, seemed to fill such a deep need, and Charlie felt at times like he was missing out on something. But then he’d realize how deeply, deeply happy he was with his men, and it would pass.

  Dinner was an easy affair that day, with burgers from the new grill and a wonderful pasta salad from Josh, a new recipe that everyone declared a big success. It has grilled cheese, which Charlie hadn’t even known was a thing, but it tasted delicious.

  After they’d cleaned up the kitchen, done the dishes, and Charlie had helped Josh with folding a load of laundry, Connor called them into the kitchen, where all the others had already taken a seat around the table. Wander had announced he'd step outside as this was a private affair, and Charlie was glad Miles would be spared that humiliation, of having a stranger observe his punishment.

  “As you all know, Miles has asked me to dole out his punishment for… Well, I think he’d better explain that himself.” He gestured at Miles, who rose from his chair.

  “I’ve asked Connor to administer any punishment he’d see fit for the way I treated Brad. I denied him the privilege to serve me and ignored him, all because I felt ashamed of our relationship. In doing so, I fell short as his daddy and hurt him deeply. For that, I deserve to be disciplined.”

  Connor nodded. “Even though it’s unusual, I agree with Miles’s line of reasoning, and I’ve accepted my responsibility in this. Brad, how many days would you say this went on before you called him out?”

  “Erm, about four days, I guess?” Brad answered.

  “And how often do you usually serve him on any given day? Give us a ballpark.”

  Charlie could see where Connor was going with this. It was smart, linking the punishment to the offense.

  “I dunno,” Brad said, his voice a tad surly.

  “You’d better answer me, boy, or you’re gonna find yourself right next to your daddy when I paddle his ass,” Connor warned him, his voice taking on that edge he had when he was in Dom mode.

  Brad sat up straight. “At least five times a day, Sir. Often more.”

  “I think your estimate is on the conservative side, so we’ll go with seven a day times four days is twenty-eight. I’ll add two to make it a nice, even number, which brings us to thirty.”

  Miles blinked, and Charlie noticed a fine layer of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Thirty strikes, that was going to hurt.

  “That seems fair,” Miles said, his voice tight.

  “Good. Drop ‘em and bend over.” Connor was all businesslike as he pointed toward the edge of the table.

  Miles got up and, without hesitation, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, followed by his boxers. His cock, enthusiastic as ever when it got exposed, stood firm. Charlie’s guess was that wouldn’t last, since unlike Brad, Miles didn’t get off on pain.

  Miles sent Charlie a reassuring smile, then looked at Brad. “I love you, boy.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.” Brad sounded emotional, and Charlie couldn’t blame him as he felt the same.

  Then Miles bent over, gripped the edge of the table with both hands and dropped his head low. “Ready when you are,” he told Connor.
<
br />   Connor didn’t draw it out, the first slap with that paddle fast and secure. Charlie, who was seated almost across from where Miles was positioned, saw his man flinch at the impact. The second one followed rapidly, and at the fourth strike, he let out a grunt.

  “Daddy!” Brad called out, and Noah held him back as he wanted to rise.

  “He’s doing this for you, Brad,” Noah said, his voice warm. “He’s doing this to make sure you know how much he loves you and how seriously he takes his job as your daddy.”

  Charlie hurried over to Brad, unable to watch the anguish on his face, and he parked himself on Brad’s lap, holding him as he started crying. Miles had resorted to curses and grunts, in between gasps of breath that were close to sobs. God, the man had to hurt. Connor wasn’t holding back, that paddle coming down hard.

  “Please, Sir, please,” Brad was now begging Connor. “It’s too much.”

  They were at twenty now, and Connor took a break. “Do I need to stop?” he asked Miles.

  “No!” Miles’s reaction was a half-sob. “Just give me… I need to… Just give me a second.”

  Miles’s body was completely tense, from his pulled-up shoulders to the tight lines of his upper body and legs.

  “God, this hurts like a motherfucker,” Miles let out between clenched teeth.

  Connor’s mouth pulled up at one side in a bit of a grin. ‘Unlike Brad, you’re allowed to curse at me, so have at it.”

  “You’re a fucking sadist, you know that?” Miles spat at him.

  Connor’s grin grew bigger. “That should teach you to treat your boy with the respect he deserves.”

  “Fuck yes,” Miles grumbled, then added, “Continue.”

  The last ten strikes were fast, but also less intense. Connor held back in a way he hadn’t done before, and it made Charlie feel warm inside. Even when he was punishing Miles, Connor was still looking out for him.

  “Thirty, that’s it.” Connor lowered his hand with the paddle. “I take it you’re not gonna thank me, like my Josh always does?”

  Charlie couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. Connor really was something else, wasn’t he?

  “Fuck you, Connor,” was Miles’s curt reply, spat out between grunts of pain. Charlie could see how hard he had to fight to keep himself from falling apart.

  “Close enough,” Connor decided. “Boys, take care of him, would you? You know what to do, Brad. You’ve been on the receiving end plenty enough.”

  Charlie slid off Brad’s lap, and they came up on either side of Miles. His ass was fiery red and already beginning to swell.

  “Come on, Daddy, I’ll put some of that aloe cream on it. That should help. Then a nice cooling pack, maybe?” Brad said softly, and Miles leaned on both of them as he limped to their bedroom.

  12

  Married life suited him, Connor decided. Granted, the fact that he'd taken two weeks off for the wedding and the honeymoon helped. Not that they were going anywhere. That would have to wait until it was safe for Indy to travel, but spending whole days cooped up in the house wasn't a punishment. And he was off again for Christmas and the week after.

  They had sex. Lots and lots of sex. In fact, Connor tried to think of a surface they hadn't used and came up empty. He grinned as he thought of a particularly satisfying session in the kitchen with Josh braced against the refrigerator while Connor had fucked the living daylights out of him. Yup, he really did like being married.

  Wander and his men were proving to be a tolerable distraction as well. Tolerable was the word that Indy had used, but if he were honest, Connor had gotten quite used to their presence and even appreciated the extra audience.

  The first time he'd stripped in front of Wander had been by accident, two days after the man's arrival. Connor had woken up horny as shit after a vivid dream and had forgotten about Wander and his men. He'd walked into the living room naked, in search of Josh, and had found himself eye to eye with Wander. The man had tried to keep his composure, but as soon as his eyes had dropped down to the Beast, he hadn't been able to prevent his eyes from widening. It had given Connor a deep satisfaction, because that widening had been admiration, he was certain of it.

  He'd hesitated for only a few seconds before finding Josh and making him suck him off right there in front of Wander. The man had looked at him, one eyebrow raised as if asking what Connor wanted, and when Connor had nodded, Wander had enjoyed the show. It pained Connor to admit it, but the man had been bang on that his presence and that of his men did provide benefits, at least for Connor.

  He was lounging on the couch, a soft smile on his face as he listened to the sounds drifting in from the bedroom, where Josh and Indy were snuggling and chatting. They needed that time together, Connor had discovered. It wasn't about sex, though they did enjoy each other from time to time, but rather about simply being together.

  He startled when his phone rang, and it took him a little while to even find it, buried under the stack of newspapers he'd been reading. He didn't recognize the number, but the area code was Boston, so he picked up.

  "Yeah," he answered.

  There was a long pause at the other end of the line, and he was about to hang up when someone finally spoke. "Connor?"

  His body froze, an ice-cold chill freezing him to his spot. He would recognize that voice anywhere. "Mom?"

  "I’m so glad to hear your voice," his mom said, and despite the warmth in her tone, Connor shivered. He wasn't sure why, but he signaled to Wander something was happening, and the man hurried over and sat down on the couch next to him. Connor tilted his phone enough from his ear so the man could listen in.

  "Why are you calling me, mom?" Connor said, and much to his own frustration, his voice wasn't quite steady.

  "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, I've missed ya. It's so good to hear your voice. How have you been?"

  Connor's instincts were screaming at him. Why was she calling him out of the blue? And why was she so affectionate and emotional? She hadn’t been a bad mom by any standard, but she’d never been overly emotional. She’d been a Fitzpatrick through and through in that sense, rarely letting her feelings get the best of her. No, something was wrong, and the bitter cold in his veins mixed with dread.

  "It's good to hear your voice as well, Mom. I've missed you."

  It wasn't a lie. He hadn't seen her in many, many years, but he hadn't forgotten about her. She'd made her choices and so had he, but he'd always recognized that it wasn't spite or lack of love for him that had guided her choices. It was more inevitability, what with him taking a stand and her choosing to placate her oh so very dangerous family. She'd done what was necessary to keep herself and his dad safe—at least until he’d passed away—and it was hard to blame her for that.

  "I've been good, Mom," he added. "I'm happy."

  She let out a muffled sound, a mix between a sob and an exhale. "That's good, my boy. That's good to hear. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

  There was a strange undertone of truth to that statement, and the dread in his stomach grew. He swallowed back the slight nausea. "Are you okay, Mom?"

  It took a while before she answered. “I called to say goodbye.”

  Goodbye? He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles were white as snow. “What’s going on, Mom?”

  “I’m calling from a secure place, Connor, and from a burner phone. I know your phone is secure, you know better than to get sloppy. Don’t worry, they’ll never trace this call.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Who?”

  “Any of them, take your pick. The family, the boys in blue, those fucking Feds. Connor, is it true, what they said? That you took them down?”

  Connor’s heart about stopped. Was she talking about him going undercover or about the shooting? “What do you mean, Mom?”

  “They say you had something to do with the shooting.”

  Oh god. He wasn’t telling her jack shit. She could promise him up and down this call wasn’t recorded, but he wou
ldn’t take the risk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She laughed, a laugh happier than he’d thought possible. “You have more courage than all of them combined.” Then she sobered. “They also said you know the whereabouts of Stephan Moreau. They’re pushing me hard to convince you to give him up. I’ve told them I’d deliver him.”

  Connor’s blood ran as cold as the Arctic. “Mom.”

  “Oh shush, you. They’re morons, fucking chowdaheads, the whole fucking lot. Your uncle George most of all. God, my brother is an idiot. He’s blinded by grief and rage.”

  George was his mother’s oldest brother, his late cousin Eric’s father—the one who had raped Indy. “Is he in charge now?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What have you done, Mom?”

  He heard her breathe for almost a minute before she spoke again. “I need you to listen to me, Ignatius Sean Connor. I regret many things in life, but there’s nothing I regret more than not following you when you broke with the family. You did what your dad and I should’ve done many years ago, but we were too scared. I’m so proud of you.”

  Connor’s eyes started to water, because he could feel it, the finality in her voice. “I love you, Mom. I understood why you did what you did.”

  A strangled sob traveled through the phone. “Listen carefully now, Connor. Before he died, your father sat down with an attorney and recorded an affidavit, swearing to everything he ever remembered witnessing from the family. He spoke with them for days, and it was all signed and made official. It’s admissible in a court of law. I kept it hidden, even after he died, unsure if I wanted to use it.” She paused for a moment. “I just handed it over to the DA.”

  Connor’s head spun. His father’s testimony would corroborate Indy’s story. The trial would no longer depend on Indy’s testimony alone. “Mom, that’s… Thank you.”