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Ace nods. “Handled.”
Travis hands Carter the picture we took down from one of Ace’s ‘To Be Rescued’ boards up in his office. Now that the boy has been found and taken to safety, it’s time he moves to one of the ‘Survivors’ boards. We all agreed that these two should be the ones to do that.
I stay back as they approach the board, Ace handing them a thumbtack. Carter urges Casey closer, their shoulders pressing together. Carter’s hand shakes as he lifts the photo until it’s resting between two others. Casey’s does the same as he presses the thumbtack into the top to secure it.
Despite their tears, both of them are grinning.
“Bad guys lose in the end,” Casey whispers. He said that’s what he told Elliot when he was trying to comfort him in the pre-sale cell they were kept in. “They always fucking lose in the end. You just have to wait long enough.”
"We win." Goosebumps raise along my arms as I watch Carter take Casey’s hand, his chin lifted with pride. “We fucking win.”
The remaining survivors in the house have become attached to the idea of Elliot’s rescue, so it’s no surprise that when we get downstairs, there’s a little celebration going on. Nolan seems to have gone crazy with finger food. And also with tequila, considering he’s pouring far too much of it straight into cups and handing them off to Carter and Casey before I can speak up about them maybe eating something first. Travis and I just exchange amused, slightly-exasperated looks, knowing we’re going to have our hands full tonight, but also not really caring.
Carter seems to be determined to get drunk, downing his drinks twice as fast as everyone else. Travis is keeping a close eye on it as we enjoy some beers with Ace and Maison, so I don’t let myself worry about him, instead keeping one eye on my sexy little boy. I quickly discover that I thoroughly enjoy all of his smiles and laughs and the way his ass sways when Nolan convinces him to dance, their arms in the air as they sing along to… Taylor Swift? Who is apparently not a country singer anymore, a fascinating - in the way that it’s not fascinating in the least - fact that I learned just a few days ago.
After losing himself to the music and his friends for a while, my boy comes to find me. He’s all sweaty and flushed and fucking beautiful as hell. I step back from my own friends, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” I ask low in his ear, the two of us falling into a slow dance despite the song being upbeat.
“What?”
“I had three things on my post-operation list.” I run my hand along his spine, unable to fight the urge to touch, touch, touch. To claim. I force myself to focus. “Get Quinton, save Elliot, and kill DuGray.”
He angles his head back to look at me with wide eyes, understanding where I’m heading. “It’s time for DuGray now?”
“It is. I put him off because he hasn't shown any interest in buying a new slave, so he wasn’t the most dangerous situation to handle at the moment. Now he can be my top priority.”
“Can I come?”
“To kill DuGray?”
He grins. “Yeah.”
I pause, considering it. There shouldn’t be much danger. I’ve been to the man’s house before and we’ve been studying him since. There’s a low security presence and a system that Ace has already determined he’ll be able to hack. Plus, Casey can give us more information on how things work and any fail-safes that may be set up. All in all, it’s shaping up to be an easy mission. Granted, no mission ever goes as easily as it’s supposed to, but… the risk is very low.
The risk to his mental state, though…
“If Dr. Singh thinks it wouldn’t be detrimental,” I decide. “If he says it’s okay, then sure. You can come.”
Casey perks up like a puppy, eyes even brighter than they were before. “I’ll ask.”
Carter interrupts the conversation, bumping into us on his way to Travis. He falls against him with all the grace of a drunk man in love, making Travis chuckle.
“Please tell me you’re not that drunk,” I murmur, bringing my eyes back to Casey’s pretty blue ones.
He smiles in confusion. “Why?”
“Because I’d really like to bring you back to our room and continue this celebration, just the two of us.”
His cheeks - which had just stopped being flushed from all his dancing and drinking - redden again. “I am very, very sober.”
I snort. “Okay, that’s a lie, but I believe that you’re sober enough. Or… you will be.”
His face falls. “What does that mean?”
“Daddy,” Casey whines for the third time in as many minutes. He’s writhing where I have him tucked under one arm against my side, his face pressed to my chest, one leg hitched over my lap, his needy cocky nestled against my hip. Every time he tries rutting for relief, I pinch his ass cheek hard enough to make him yelp and whimper and give me the most adorable pout. That’s not what he’s whining about right now, though. “Daddy…”
“Shhh.” I lazily move my two fingers inside him, stroking along his silky walls. Thank god for my years of practice because I wouldn’t be able to keep my face straight otherwise. “Turn the page.”
