Loving Daniel (MC Securities Book 3) Read online

  Loving Daniel

  Ruby Moone

  Contents

  Loving Daniel

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  More from Ruby Moone

  Loving Daniel

  1

  Rain. Never-ending, summer rain. Daniel McCafferty stood by his father’s grave as it pattered on the mourners’ black umbrellas. Black coats, black shoes, black rain clouds. The summer deluge was persistent, but Daniel stood beside the grave with no protection from the weather. The rain beat down on his head, the shoulders of his black coat; it spattered his black shoes and ran down the back of his neck. He listened to the words of the priest but paid them no heed. The day was fitting. Black. Relentless. Was it possible to be grief stricken and ecstatic at the same time? Was it possible to love someone and hate them at the same time? He looked at the coffin in the grave and knew that it was.

  At the priest’s signal, he threw the white rose in his hand onto the box that contained the remains of his father. It landed with a wet thud and lay there amid the overpowering smell of freshly turned wet earth and cut grass. He tried to breathe, but it was difficult. Air didn’t seem to belong in his lungs anymore. They remained contracted and tight, like his heart, and had been from the moment the news had been delivered. Kenneth Sean McCafferty was no more. He knew he wouldn’t believe it until he’d seen the evidence. Seen him put beneath the ground.

  And here they were.

  The mourners turned and made for the shelter of their cars. They were going to the wake now, patting his arm as they went. Some went as far as to shake his hand, some attempted to kiss his cheek, but he refused to bend, so none could achieve it. No-one could reach up to his six-foot five frame. Particularly not the women in his family. Most were discouraged by the blue and green tattoo that wreathed around his neck to disappear into a severely trimmed beard, and the black and silver gauge in his ear.

  He maintained his lone vigil long after he saw the last mourner leave. Watching the hole in the ground. Half expecting Kenneth to open the box, climb out, laugh, and then backhand him for being a gullible fool. Or worse, lock him in the coffin. Punishment for being stupid.

  The rain continued unabated, but the shiver that ran through him was nothing to do with the chill in the air.

  He became aware that he wasn’t alone. A familiar prickle swept over his skin and his breath caught. He didn’t need to look to know who stood there. His cousin, or rather, his second cousin stood only a couple of inches shorter than him. The light to his dark. The one man in the world he wanted; the one man in the world he couldn’t have.

  Christian.

  “Are you going to the wake?” Christian’s words were quietly spoken. He didn’t look at Daniel as he came to stand beside him. Shoulder to shoulder.

  Daniel kept his eyes on the box. “Not yet.”

  “Come back with me, then.”

  Eyes still on the box. “If I come back with you, it will be for one thing, and one thing only.” He couldn’t think of anything else to send him away.

  Silence. Only the rain pattering on both naked heads, plastering hair to skulls and clumping eyelashes together, soaking both pairs of powerful shoulders. It was also the only thing he could think of that might take away the pain. Oblivion. Only Christian had given him oblivion. In the twelve years since that last day he’d held him. Loved him. Nothing had come close.

  “My car is over there. You know where I live?”

  Stunned, Daniel turned. Turned and faced him. Christian’s gaze was unwavering. Strong. His blond angel. Chin lifted in challenge.

  “I know where you live.”

  “Follow me.” It wasn’t a request. Christian walked.

  Daniel followed.

  2

  He watched as Christian folded his rain-soaked body into a silver Audi, then got into his own car and slammed the door. Could he do this? Christian set off without a backward glance. Daniel sent a quick text to the event management company, to whom he’d paid more than enough to handle the funeral and wake, then followed.

  Christian’s house was a large, fashionable Victorian terrace in one of the upmarket districts of Manchester. He knew exactly where he lived, but he’d never been inside. He kept Christian in sight as they drove, and when they arrived, Daniel pulled his car alongside Christian’s on the gravel driveway. He got out, slowly, and followed him up the stairs to the blue front door. His chest constricted, so intense was the pressure. Breathing was so hard, his whole body ached.

  Christian unlocked the door and went inside. Daniel followed. Christian hung his jacket on a peg inside the hall, Daniel followed suit. Christian toed off his black shoes, Daniel did the same. Christian headed straight for the stairs; Daniel followed him.

  “Shower?” Christian paused by the bathroom. Daniel shook his head. Christian walked past him into what appeared to be his bedroom. It was light. Bright. Like Christian. Rain hammered on the window, so Christian switched on a lamp by the bed to dispel some of the gloom. It cast a warm, golden glow. British summertime. Who could fault it?

  Christian stood in front of him. Wary, waiting, so Daniel looked his fill. Soaked up his presence. Allowed himself to sink in the quagmire of emotion the man always cast him into. Those eyes. Those damned, damned eyes. Somewhere between green and blue. He was so good. So clean, and kind, and…good. Everything Daniel was not.

  Smaller than him, younger than him. Yet the room crackled with his presence. Christian squared his shoulders and eyeballed him. Waiting.

  When he spoke, Daniel’s voice almost betrayed him, it was so low and unsteady. “Strip.”

  Christian blinked. Slowly. He remained motionless for a moment, long enough for Daniel to think that he’d changed his mind, but then his hands went to his black tie and tugged it until it hung like a noose about his neck. He unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt. One hand undid each of the remaining buttons until it hung open. No undershirt. Daniel could see a glimpse of his skin. Just as he remembered it. Smooth, pale, hairless skin with a hint of fair hair below his navel. He shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor, revealing deep pink nipples in a tautly muscled chest that made Daniel’s mouth water and his cock ache. He’d filled out in the intervening years. Broader. At eighteen, he’d been all gangly arms and legs. Now, now he was built like a swimmer. All toned, sleek muscle.

  Daniel remembered to breathe and sucked in air.

  Christian’s hands went to the belt of his pants, and he tugged it free. Daniel could see the outline of his erection, and his breathing stopped again as he pushed down his pants and underwear together and stripped off his socks. Christian kicked them away and sto
od tall. Naked. Proud. Erect. Hands balled into fists, chin jutting.

  He was so fucking brave. Daniel walked to him, slowly. He stood before him and let his gaze take in everything. And allowed himself to give in to the need that was never far away, the need that obliterated every other thought. The twelve years since he’d held him in his arms rolled away as his Christian stood before him. Waiting for him. Wanting him.

  He reached out and touched his chest with two fingers. Ran them from collarbone to nipple, where he paused to pinch. Christian’s eyes closed, and his lips parted. Daniel trailed his fingers down Christian’s stomach, but he didn’t touch his cock. Christian bit his lip and watched his fingers hungrily as they moved.

  Daniel stepped closer, put a hand around the back of his neck, and gently kissed him on the temple. They touched their foreheads together.

  “Tell me you want this.”

  Christian put a hand on Daniel’s hip. It was unsteady. “I want it.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Very. Condoms and lube are in the drawer. By the bed.”

  Christian moved as though to kiss him, but Daniel pulled back and looked him in the eyes. All he could see was need and a sense of desperate urgency that matched his own. He had to be sure.

  Daniel closed his eyes and breathed him in.

  Christian tried to move his head for a kiss again, but he stopped him. He couldn’t manage kissing. Too much. To intimate.

  He let go and retrieved the box of condoms and the lube from the drawer. Christian faced him. He reached out, as if to touch his face, but Daniel grabbed his hand and pushed it away. A kindness would undo everything. Christian seemed to understand, for he turned and kneeled on the bed.

  Daniel swiftly ripped off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and dropped his pants. He left his shirt hanging and positioned himself. He ran hands down the long, warm, graceful sweep of Christian’s back, cupped his cheeks, parted them, and moaned. He suited up quickly, coating his fingers with the lube, and then spreading more on Christian. He took his hip, held it, and pressed one finger into him. Christian made that movement of pleasure and pain, then pushed back seeking more, exactly as Daniel remembered. He added another and stretched him, prepared him. Memories engulfed him of the times he’d held Christian, fucked him, loved him. The pain of thinking he’d never be able to do it again. He hesitated, his cock pushing at Christian’s entrance.

  “Tell me you want this.”

  “I want it. I want you.”

  Daniel shivered and pushed carefully into him. His eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth opened in a silent cry at the tight heat of him. Christian pushed back, writhing on his cock. Daniel let out a low, guttural moan and once he was seated, and Christian was moaning in desperation and pleasure, he fucked him. Fucked him in the way he’d dreamed of and ached for all the years they’d been apart. He curved around his naked back, buried his face in his neck, kissed his shoulder, remembering every inch of skin, his glorious scent, every movement; every soft gasp. He sank deep into him, pulled him back tight, wrapped one arm around his middle, and thrust hard. Christian pushed back. He was panting, moaning. Long, sobbing breaths. Daniel was close. He reached around and took hold of Christian’s cock and pumped him hard. His entire body locked, and he came in long, desperate spurts. Seeing him sent Daniel hurtling over the edge. He clutched him and tried not to moan as he emptied himself, body and soul.

  “I presume you’ll be headed for the wake?” Christian buttoned his shirt and pulled on his pants.

  Daniel nodded without looking directly at him.

  “I’ll let you get there first rather than arrive with you. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No.” Daniel’s head was spinning. He would never have imagined that part way through his father’s funeral he would end up in bed with Christian. He needed to distance himself. Needed to breathe. They had played cat and mouse the last year or so. He’d done him a couple of favours and they’d started dancing around the notion of payback. The last time, Christian had looked way too keen to discuss it in detail. His actions today suggested that maybe, just maybe he’d forgiven him for what he did all those years ago. Christ alone knew how or why.

  He didn’t deserve forgiveness, didn’t want forgiveness.

  Christian followed him out of the bedroom and downstairs where Daniel put on his shoes, shrugged into his coat, and ran his hands through his hair. He squared his shoulders and glanced in the hall mirror. The tattoo snaking up his throat moved as he swallowed.

  “You okay?” Christian stood beside him, watching their reflections side by side.

  “Fine.”

  “It’s just… well…” He hesitated. “I know what it’s like to lose your dad, and whatever has gone on between us, I want you to know how sorry I am.” He slid his hand into Daniel’s and squeezed.

  Daniel almost broke down. He held himself together with everything he had. He looked at Christian in the mirror as he disengaged hands.

  He cleared his throat. “Consider all debts repaid.”

  Christian flinched and looked away. “If you say so.”

  Part of him was glad he accepted it, part of him wanted him to argue. Desperately.

  “I say so.”

  Christian nodded. “What happens now? With your dad gone...?”

  “No idea.” Daniel turned and walked to the door. He paused, looked over his shoulder, and for a moment, he thought Christian would stop him leaving. Beg him to stay. Kiss him. Anything.

  He didn’t.

  Daniel slammed the door behind him.

  3

  Daniel paused at the double doors of his father’s golf club, and then pushed them open. The soft hum of conversation hit him, as did the sight of so many people dressed in shades of black. There was the distinct air of funereal anticipation. What next? Who would replace Kenneth? Who would get the money, the businesses? Ever since his death just over a week ago, the hum of anticipation had been there and never stronger than right then. He braced himself for the insincerity of the condolences that would be swiftly followed by the not-so-subtle questions. Given his reputation as the McCafferty banker, they assumed he knew everything. He knew jack shit. Once upon a time he had, but he’d managed to distance himself over the last few years. It had been hard won, but he’d done it.

  He was spotted by Larry Conroy, his father’s associate, and one of the few people who had anything to do with his father Daniel had any time for.

  “Daniel. Thought you’d run off.” Larry was only half joking. His smile was edged with genuine concern.

  “Nearly did.”

  “Well, I’m glad to see you.” He squeezed his arm. “It’s going to be tough few days, so let me know if I can help.”

  Daniel looked at him. Larry was probably seventy now. Kindly eyes, grey hair. To look at, you’d never have known that, like Kenneth, he was one of Manchester’s more influential criminals. He had heart though. Most didn’t.

  “Thanks, Larry. I’ll do that.”

  Larry moved away, so Daniel began working his way through the crowd, barely pausing to nod to people. Avoiding questions, he quickly made his way to the bar and ordered a tonic water with ice and lemon.

  “Let me get that,” a voice beside him said.

  Daniel looked around and saw Eric Daly beside him. Eric was an interesting character, an international lawyer he’d known for a few years now. They’d worked on a few projects, some inside his father’s sphere, but in recent years, mainly not. He’d developed a grudging trust for him. Well, as much as he trusted anyone. He was attractive in a corporate kind of way. Probably in his early forties. He seemed to hover on the fringes of Kenneth’s world, but Daniel knew he’d blur the boundaries if it suited him.

  “Sure you don’t want a double gin in that?” Daly handed over a note to the bartender and waved away the change.

  “Sure.”

  “Probably not the best time to mention it, but I’d like to talk to you about some of your father’s asset
s.”

  “Make an appointment with my PA.” Daniel sipped his drink and looked out over the sea of faces. At least Daly came straight to the point and didn’t pretend to care.

  “I also need to talk to you about Geoff Bryce.”

  Daniel looked at him. “What about him?” Geoff Bryce was a nasty little shit. He was also the reason he’d had any contact with Christian over the last year or so. Bryce had threatened some of Christian’s friends and employees, and Christian had surprised the hell out of him when he’d called on him for help. He’d given it. Willingly. It was the least he could do. He thought he’d seen the last of Bryce, but apparently not. He was exactly the type of lowlife that would ooze out of the woodwork following his father’s death thinking he could make something out of the situation.

  Daly frowned. “He’s delusional. And he owes a lot of people a lot of money. He needs…ah, shall we say, dealing with?”

  “And?”

  “I wanted to speak to you first before acting.” Daly took a sip from his glass and gave him a pointed smile. “I’m being courteous. In case you hadn’t spotted it.”

  Daniel buried a smile. “We can talk, but not here.”

  Daly stiffened and raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured.

  Daniel leaned back against the bar and looked across the room. Geoff Bryce was making his way through the crowd. He cast a resigned glance at Daly and straightened up when the short arse bastard sidled up to them.