Ultimate Sacrifice Read online

  ❖

  Faint, whispering voices roused Quinn from slumber.

  “I texted my mom, she didn’t mind.”

  “Okay. Well, if it’s okay with her. It’s okay with us.”

  “Thanks, Mr. McAlester.”

  “Sleep well, Keegan.”

  “Good night.”

  Quinn felt Keegan’s warm body move away for a moment, but he was too deep in sleep to care or react. The blanket at the foot of his bed brushed over his legs and then settled over them. Keegan snuggled back in behind Quinn, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. A moment later, all was still and Quinn drifted to sleep once more.

  ❖

  As morning light streamed into his bedroom, Quinn gently awoke, a familiar urge beckoning him to slide his hand in his sleep shorts. A moment later, he became aware of something heavy pressing against his left side and his stomach.

  What the heck?

  He lifted his head and peeled open an eye, smiling when he saw the top of Keegan’s head. Keegan had snuggled up to him during the night. His left arm was draped across Quinn’s torso and his face was squished into Quinn’s shoulder and left pectoral.

  He smiled at his sleeping boyfriend and relaxed, remembering they didn’t need to get up for school or anything else.

  It’ll take care of that itch later.

  Then, he allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

  ❖

  Sometime later in the morning, Quinn felt Keegan’s fingers gently caressing his chest. His lips widened to a full smile as he turned his head and looked into Keegan’s blue eyes. Quinn loved the way his boyfriend’s bedhead seemed extra cute in the morning sunlight. “Good morning, handsome.”

  “Hi,” Keegan answered. “You’re really adorable when you’re sleeping.”

  “That’s creepy,” Quinn said, blushing as his smiled turned into a grin.

  Keegan rolled his eyes down to Quinn’s tenting sleep shorts. “I was wondering if you wanted help taking care of that?” Keegan asked.

  “Yes, please,” he answered, stretching his body and resting his arms behind his head. Above the bed, Quinn saw the ceiling light—which had been off—flicker, as if someone was playing with a dimmer switch. A moment later, Keegan took hold of him and their world fell into bliss for the next twenty or so minutes.

  When they had finished and wiped up, they lounged together on the bed.

  “I could get used to this,” Quinn said. Is that too much, too soon?

  “Mmhmm,” Keegan responded, squeezing Quinn in his arms. “Me too.”

  I guess not.

  The sound of pots and pans and cabinets closing in the kitchen caught Quinn’s super hearing and he listened for a moment. Awesome. Daddio’s making breakfast for us.

  Then, he frowned, remembering how Keegan and his mother were sometimes at odds with his level of independence. “Are you going to get in trouble for sleeping over?” Quinn asked.

  “Nope. I texted my mom and she said it was okay because it was a holiday weekend.”

  “You’ve got nothing going on today? No Black Friday craziness in your family?”

  “Hell no. My parents did that for a couple years but realized that unless you were in line at six o’clock on Thanksgiving evening or earlier, you wouldn’t get anything you want. What about you guys?”

  “Clearly not, since we’re here.”

  “Well, I’ve got something I want right here,” Keegan said, smiling.

  “Aww, babe,” Quinn said, blushing. “So, you’re in for a treat this morning. I can hear Daddio in the kitchen making breakfast. I suspect something wonderful and delicious is coming.”

  “Oh yeah? Want to go check it out? I’m starving.”

  “Sure, but first we need mouthwash. I’ve discovered your dragon breath is terrible in the morning.”

  Keegan chuckled. “Your breath isn’t exactly cotton candy and roses either.”

  The boys laughed and made their way to Quinn’s bathroom to get some mouthwash. When they finished in the bathroom, they made their way downstairs to the kitchen.

  Daddio, wearing slim-fit track pants and a Green Lantern T-shirt, was at the kitchen counter, engrossed in measuring out some waffle mix and setting up for an amazing late breakfast.

  “Did you sleep in, too?” Quinn asked as the boys ambled into kitchen. “Coffee?” he quickly asked Keegan before Daddio could answer, jerking his head to the freshly brewed coffee pot.

  “Yes, please,” Keegan replied.

  “Morning, boys,” Daddio said, regarding them with amusement and suspicion. Then, he answered them with a riddle. “We might have slept in or we might not have slept in.”

  Quinn and Keegan looked at each other. Quinn knew exactly what his dad was hinting at.” TMI,” he responded, chuckling. Then, he set about pouring two cups of coffee.

  “Did you boys sleep well?” Dad asked, coming into the kitchen from the living room. Unlike Daddio, he was freshly showered and dressed for a relaxing day at home.

  “Yup,” Quinn answered, hoping the questions would end there.

  “Great. Keegan, we figured since you’re here, we’d cook up a big breakfast. Are you interested?”

  “Yes, thank you, please, and I am.” Keegan answered while sipping his coffee.

  Quinn laughed as Dad put some soft music on the wireless sound system and then poured orange juice into four mimosa glasses, leaving extra room in two of the glasses for champagne. He handed the boys their full glasses. “Two virgin Mimosas for you two,” he said, snickering.

  Then, he pulled out a resealed champagne bottle and topped off his and Daddio’s glasses. “And two regular Mimosas for the grownups.”

  “You’re not mad?” Keegan asked.

  Quinn felt his heart and stomach drop through his legs and squirm into his feet, desperately struggling to escape from his toes. You did not just ask my dad that question.

  Daddio and Dad paused and stared at Keegan. Quinn noticed they were equally unprepared for the question.

  Dad cleared his throat and answered him. “No, Keegan we’re not mad. I don’t know how your parents feel, but we made a decision long ago not to regulate our son’s sexuality or his sex life. Hopefully, we’ve taught him well so he understands what our expectations are concerning safety and protection by using condoms, but most of all, that he does his best to think about his decisions when the hormones take over. So, no, we’re not mad. Aren and I are guys and we were both sixteen many moons ago, so we know exactly what you two are going through. Getting mad and yelling at you isn’t going to stop you from expressing your sexuality with one another.”

  Oh god, make it stop.

  Keegan looked at Quinn with surprise. “Wow, that’s what the sex talk is like in your house?”

  Quinn blushed, and his mouth fell open. “Are we really having this conversation right now?” he asked in disbelief.

  Keegan chuckled.

  “You have to remember that our coming outs did not go well for us like it has for you guys. My parents were very upset and it took several years for them to accept me.”

  “Mine too,” Daddio said. “Unfortunately, they caught me in bed fooling around with my best friend. We got read the riot act because in my super religious family back then, sex and sexuality was focused on what you could and couldn’t do. Basically, we were told we couldn’t be sexual until we were married.”

  “The idea of saving yourself for someone special still has merit, so don’t think we’re suggesting you guys should adopt a carefree attitude with your sex lives…at all.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Mr. McAlester. Both of you, that is,” Keegan said.

  Quinn smiled. “Me too.” I’m really lucky, even though this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, talking about me and my boyfriend’s sex life with my dads is kinda okay. But still, most kids don’t have the special and unique family I have, and there’s nothing in this world that could ever make me want to give this up.

  2 | T
he First of Many

  Blake

  The faint sound of knocking at the front door to Blake’s condo roused him from a dreamless sleep. He sat up, mildly surprised but aware of his surroundings. He looked around his room, expecting to find something wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Someone knocked louder at the front door.

  Sighing, he climbed out of bed and pulled on the pair of boxer shorts he had tossed on the floor when he went to bed. Then, he went downstairs. A third, more determined knocking echoed through the condo when he approached the door and it irritated him further. He flipped the deadbolt back and opened the door.

  “What?” he exclaimed, staring into the green eyes of the red-headed girl that lived in his building. She blinked, then swept her eyes over his nearly nude, muscular body.

  “What do you want?” Blake asked, perturbed.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all. Sheesh,” she retorted, sounding offended.

  “Um, what are you talking about, why would I not be okay?”

  “Well, I haven’t seen you for the past couple of days.”

  Blake shrugged. “I’m fine.” Past couple of days? I know I didn’t feel right after my battle with Quinn last week and the power experiments I did with Victor and Dr. Madison really drained me, but…days?

  She smirked and nonchalantly glanced at his chest. “Yes, you are. Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

  Blake wrinkled his face with confusion. “What do you mean? Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “No, Thanksgiving was three days ago.”

  “Today is Wednesday,” Blake countered.

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, today is Sunday. Thanksgiving was three days ago. You didn’t come out of your condo and your car hasn’t moved. I figured I’d check on you in case something was wrong.”

  “Nothing is wrong.” I think. Holy shit, did I sleep for almost four days in a row?

  The red-headed girl, whose name he still didn’t know, started talking about going for a ride in the BMW, but Blake tuned her out, becoming lost in his thoughts. After the the last round of experiments, I came home, ate dinner, watched a movie, then went to bed. How did I lose almost four days of my life?

  “I have to go,” he said abruptly.

  “Well, uh, okay I guess,” she replied, disappointed. “Let me know when you want to go for that ride.”

  “Yep.” Blake shut the door to his apartment. He ran upstairs and grabbed his phone. It was still attached to the charger on his nightstand where he had left it. When he picked it up, a number of missed notifications appeared. Sure enough, it was ten-thirty in the morning on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.

  Shit.

  He sighed, set his phone down, and walked into the master bath to shower.

  When he had finished, he pulled on a pair of clean soccer shorts and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Waiting for the machine to finish brewing, he leaned against the counter and scrolled through his missed notifications. Most were Facebook or Snapchats alerts from his classmates, but no one had texted him, not even his parents, to wish him a Happy Thanksgiving. No one had called, either; not even Victor.

  Fuming, he set the phone down and folded his arms across his bare chest. He stared at his toes and wiggled them, consumed by an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and frustration.

  What do I do now. Wait…

  He looked into the living room, his eyes tracking across his furniture until they rested on the notebook on the coffee table.

  Radoslav’s notes. Rather, Melvin’s notes.

  The coffee machine finished percolating and sputtered as the last few drops of water became steam. Blake removed the hot carafe and poured himself a cup. Setting the pot back into the machine, he walked into the living room and sat on the couch, placing the steaming mug of coffee on a coaster. He picked up the notebook, leaned back, and opened it to page one.

  The handwriting in the notebook was messy but legible, scrawled by a man unsure of his last moments in this world. Melvin’s notes included organizational sketches, descriptions of the criminal hierarchy he worked for, a list of key players and their roles, the locations of other drug distribution centers, and the undeniable connection to the Archimandrion Council. Blake studied the various notes and drawings, attempting to make sense of the meanings and connections Melvin exposed in the notebook.

  Blake was impressed with the man’s attention to detail. Clearly, the criminal organization he worked for appreciated his skill set. Blake didn’t understand how accounting or criminal finances worked, but he remembered Patricia’s comment about how Melvin discovered Arnold’s embezzlement of criminal funds. After reviewing the man’s notes, he knew why Melvin was the right man for the job.

  He took sip of warm coffee and set about re-reading the pages he just read, this time giving their detailed secrets the attention they deserved. He picked a pen up from the coffee table and circled important names and locations in the notebook, presuming some of them would be his next targets.

  Whomever Victor believed was the enemy—and had convinced Blake was the enemy—none of these mafioso-style criminals made the cut of global terrorists. Frustrated, Blake took another sip of coffee, sat back, and stared at the fire sprinkler head in the middle of his living room.

  I can’t figure out why Victor sent me to the old power plant. He knew what I’d find, and I know he’s not ignorant enough to think I’d let it go. He must have known I’d pursue this…so why let me discover The Order’s funding comes from a criminal underworld? Any sane businessman knows you don’t cut off your funding when you need it to do more expensive projects…like make more super humans.

  The hypocrisy astounded Blake.

  One thing is for certain…if I continue attacking the criminal organizations, I’ll draw unwanted attention from The Order’s upper echelon, along with Victor’s keen sense of suspicion.

  So, what is Victor playing at?

  Blake flipped back through the notebook and stopped at the organizational hierarchy Melvin had drawn. Several ranks above Melvin, the mafia boss reported to a member of the Archimandrion, a man named Nigel Krause. This was the only man whom Melvin had set in the middle of a Venn diagram, the left circle containing the mafia, the right circle containing the Archimandrion. This diagram, he realized, was the key that exposed the Archimandrion Council’s membership. Once he took them out, he could move in and take over the organization.

  But when?

  If Victor is doing what I think he’s doing, I need him to succeed. I need him to create more super soldiers to command so I can take down anyone who gets in my way.

  But what if Victor’s micro bug makes the super soldiers respond only to him? What if he’s about to abandon me and take over The Order? There there’s nothing stopping him from turning his super goons against me.

  He took a moment and reflected on all the things Victor had promised him from the beginning: a real opportunity to make a difference in the world; to take care of the individuals or groups who operate outside the justice system; a chance to become a true superhero instead of masquerading as a comic-book inspired weirdo; a chance to be a part of something great, even if it meant living in the shadows.

  Unless, Victor been lying to me? Have I really been that stupid? What if Quinn was right?

  He frowned and pushed the thought away from his mind. No, there is some level of truth in Victor’s words, but I can’t see what that is yet. Maybe it’s time I chased Victor down and figured out what he’s doing. Unless…Victor’s plan all along has been to have me wipe out the Archimandrion Council. There’s a thought.

  He took another sip of coffee and considered his latest hypothesis until his phone started ringing upstairs, jostling him out his thoughts.

  Blake set the coffee and notebook down and jogged upstairs to retrieve his phone. Glancing at the screen, he saw the incoming call was from Victor.

  Groaning, he unplugged the phone from the c
harger and swiped right to answer. He put the phone to his ear and made his way back to the living room.

  “Hello, Blake, how are you?”

  “I’m fine,” he answered. Play it cool and don’t let him know I’ve missed the past four days.

  “That’s great. I hope you had a good weekend?” Victor asked.

  Blake rolled his eyes. He wants something, he’s being too polite.

  “Not really, since I have no family anymore, and nobody, not even you, called or texted to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Victor didn’t respond.

  “Hello?” Blake said.

  “I’m sorry, Blake,” Victor replied. “It never crossed my mind. If it’s any consolation, I worked over the holidays.”

  Black shrugged, not that Victor would have seen it. “Thanks, I guess. Do you need something?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  I knew it, here we go.

  “So, what cargo did you lose this time?” Blake teased.

  “Yup, very funny. Actually, the Archimandrite is in town and would like to meet you today.”

  Huh; you were out of town, I wonder where you are now?

  “He does? Why?” Blake sat down on the couch again and leaned against the cushions.

  “You’re of special interest to The Order, naturally,” Victor said. “And, we technically work for him. So, when he makes a request, we do our best to satisfy it,” Victor said flatly.

  Blake detected the paternal tone in Victor’s voice. “I see.”

  “Would you please swing by at two o’clock?” Victor asked.

  “Are you asking or telling me?” Blake replied.

  “Both,” Victor answered.

  Blake smirked, and finding it interesting that Victor had the audacity to give him orders. “Where are you? I mean, where do you want me to meet you?”

  “The Seavey Island facility, of course, where else?” Victor responded.