Savage Estate

Chapter 1Alec Savage stared up at the two-story house through his dusty windshield with a mélange of fear, anger, and excitement churning in his stomach. Considering his father’s child support checks had arrived like clockwork for the past twenty-four years, he shouldn’t have been surprised to find out the neat Victorian tucked away in a suburban DC neighborhood belonged to the man he’d never met. The owner of this house had plenty of money and no need to brag for everyone to know it. The lawn was impeccably tailored with twin rows of low hedges soldiering along the stone path that wound its way to the front door, while white paint and hunter green trim seemed fresh enough to have been put on last week. A fairytale house if he ever saw one. Too bad its owner was anything but a prince charming. “In and out. This won’t be so bad.” In spite of saying so out loud, he didn’t believe it for a second. He’d spent the entire drive from Miami trying to convince himself he was the bigger man in this situation. After all, he could have responded to William Savage’s request to come see him so they could celebrate Alec’s twenty-fifth birthday together with an emphatic, “Go to hell, you absentee son of a bitch.” Instead, Alec put aside any resentment he might have and agreed to meeting, with the option of sticking around for birthday shenanigans if he decided he wanted more time. His friends were split on his decision. Some told Alec he was doing the right thing, excited he finally had the opportunity to come face-to-face with the man who’d abandoned him and his mother right after he was born. Others tried saying he was better off ignoring the invitation. He’d lived this long without having him in his life, so why should now be any different? The whole ride up, Alec fluctuated between the two, depending on how tired he was. Now that he was on his father’s doorstep, he leaned toward wondering why he’d ever thought this would be a good idea. As he reached for his door handle, Imagine Dragons blasted from his phone, startling him into sitting back and pulling it out of his pocket. “Well? Is he everything you dreamed about and more?” The breathless question was so over the top, Alec laughed, dispelling some of his tension. “You jumped the gun, Zander. I haven’t even met the man yet.” “Oh.” Clear disappointment came over the line. Zander Ivey had been firmly planted in the Meet-Your-Dad camp from the instant Alec shared the e-mail with him. The two had been friends since college when Zander had answered his ad for a roommate. Alec hadn’t been sure of him at first—Zander was six years older and coming back to school after messing up the first time around—but when nobody else remotely suitable showed, he decided to give it a go. They’d developed an easy friendship and, in the five years since, dated occasionally, but at this point in their lives, Alec saw him more as a confidant than the boyfriend relationship Zander made it clear he wanted. Thankfully, Zander wasn’t a prick about Alec keeping him at arm’s length, though he was quick to hop into bed whenever Alec got too drunk or too depressed to remember their boundaries. Alec prided himself for not succumbing to baser desires for months now when using Zander to get off was far too easy. He wanted to be a bigger man than that, and besides, Zander deserved better. “Well, why not?” Zander said. “Please tell me you didn’t chicken out at the last minute.” “I didn’t chicken out. I’m in front of his house right now.” “So what are you waiting for?” “Some i***t called me before I could get out of the car.” Zander laughed. “Fine, fine, I’m going, but don’t forget to let me know how it all went down, okay? I want all the juicy details.” Alec let him go with a promise to call later. Zander’s interruption was the reminder he needed. He wanted this meeting, no matter how scary it was. Whistling under his breath, he headed for the front door, focusing on the mundane details like how lucky it was the weather hadn’t turned nasty yet in Washington, and whether or not his father was the kind of guy who decorated his house for the upcoming holidays. In the grand cosmic scheme of Alec’s life, imagining Christmas lights wrapped around the banister of the front porch was infinitely easier than dwelling on what a huge deal this was. That didn’t mean his hand didn’t tremble as he pressed the doorbell. Alec shook it out as if that would banish his nerves, before shoving it into his pocket. He was screwed if his father—What am I going to call him? Will he expect me to call him Dad?—wanted to shake hands in greeting. On top of the shaking, Alec’s palm was greased in sweat. He wanted to make a better first impression than that. Seconds ticked by without a sound. Alec pressed the doorbell again, this time listening closely to make sure he heard it ring inside. Sure enough, a low gong emanated from deep within its walls. When another minute went by without a response, his mood sharpened, anger bleeding around the edges of his excitement. No way he’d messed up the time or date. He’d printed up the e-mail and then looked at it half a million times to make sure he didn’t make a stupid mistake like that. Whipping out his phone, he checked his e-mail in case William—Yep, first names. An asshole who can’t even show when he says he will on his own damn invitation doesn’t deserve to be called Dad.—had sent him a last minute message changing the specifics. The only new message was a coupon from Redbox. This time, he knocked. Well, pounded was probably more accurate. Maybe there was a basement or William was in the backyard and hadn’t heard the bell. His gaze slid to the gate at the side of the house. Should he check to see? He’d been invited, after all. If a neighbor came out and said anything, he had the e-mail and a driver’s license proving he had the same last name to show he had a right to poke around. As far as justifications went, that was good enough for him. He hadn’t driven all this way to turn around empty-handed. Nobody stopped him as he let himself through the gate. The wooden slats of the fence reached over seven feet high with carved stone cats and birds mounted on each of the vertical posts. It lent the backyard a sense of privacy that felt out of place in the middle of suburbia, like each of the figures guarded against unwelcome visitors. Alec kept his eyes averted although he would’ve sworn one of the cats tracked his every step as he passed. The yard was deserted. The fence cast shadows along the ground, creeping onto the cedar deck that stepped down onto a small patch of well-trimmed grass and nearly hiding a prefab shed in the far corner. Upon inspection, the shed was shackled with three different locks, forbidding anyone entrance unless they had a heavy duty crowbar and maybe a stick of dynamite. What he’d thought was an innocuous apple tree had arcane symbols etched into its bark, climbing from its heavy roots to disappear into the branches. Most telling of all was the shattered glass that littered the deck, blown out from the now-useless patio doors. Panic overtook him, and he bolted forward. “Dad!” Who cared about what to call him now? Something serious had gone down here. Nomenclature meant nothing compared to ensuring nobody was hurt. Glass crunched beneath his tennis shoes when he raced across the deck. More clung to the frame of the patio doors, making it too narrow and too dangerous to climb through. The door itself was locked, and he had to consciously slow himself down to reach through the jagged edges to open it from the inside. All the while, his heart pummeled his ribcage in a desperate bid to get out. The kitchen was dark, the counters spotless. Everything gleamed in stainless steel, not a fingerprint or smudge to be found. Either his father was a neat freak or this room never got used. One exit spilled into an equally dim dining room while another seemed to lead into a hallway that looked to go to the front of the house. Alec chose the hall. His steps slowed, his newfound urgency losing the battle to common sense. The house sounded quiet, but that could mean someone was simply lying in wait for him. He clenched his jaw to stop from yelling again. Call him an i***t for running headfirst into the unknown, but he didn’t need to make the situation worse by acting like every moron from every horror film ever made. He grimaced. Probably not the best comparison to make right now. The corridor led straight to the foyer and an open staircase to the second floor. Alec paused, c*****g his head as he strained to hear anything that might be happening within the house’s walls. Nothing. His pulse thundered loudest, and he was pretty sure he was the only one aware of that. At the front of the house were two living rooms, both as clean and empty as the kitchen. He didn’t stop to take stock of the expensive furniture or the fact that enough entertainment equipment lined one wall to put a frat house to shame. A third door demanded his attention. Located next to a downstairs toilet, it was the only one that was shut, and when he tested the cold handle, an unexpected static shock almost made him jerk back. He pulled the door open, realizing a moment too late that if there’d been fingerprints for police to find, they were gone now. Heat billowed out to greet him, and he had to blink twice to clear his vision. “Holy s**t,” he muttered as his surroundings sank in. The orderliness of the rest of the house was gone. The claustrophobic, six-by-six room—this must’ve been a closet at some point because what other purpose could it have?—was filled from floor to ceiling with stacks of books and legal pads that shrunk it even more. A narrow wooden desk with a three-legged stool instead of a chair sat precariously between two of the biggest piles, its surface cluttered with yellow sheets of paper and a ceramic white mug the size of a small boat filled halfway to the brim with herbal tea. When he stepped inside, the door swung shut behind him. He jumped at the loud slam, then chided himself for overreacting. Not ghosts. Probably a draft or a vacuum caused by the broken windows. Zander would have a field day teasing him if he saw any of this. Alec took a deep breath and turned back to the desk. He touched the side of the cup. Still hot. His father had to be here somewhere. Just not in this weird little room. But as he twisted to check the rest of the house, his gaze caught on the paper the mug pinned in place. More accurately, it skidded to a halt at the sight of his name scrawled in black Sharpie across it. He nudged the cup out of the way. Under his name was a phone number that had been underlined three times. He didn’t recognize the area code. It wasn’t DC or anywhere in Florida that he knew. But the obvious emphasis with the underlining was too unusual to ignore. Pulling out his phone, he punched in the number before he could talk himself out of it. His gaze drifted around as it rang on the other end. The titles on the books were strange, many of them so old they were barely legible. Dinini Quarto. Was that something Italian? “Savage Estate.” The masculine voice startled him back into the moment. Savage? Maybe it was his father’s business. He hadn’t been able to figure out what William Savage did for a living when he’d accepted the invitation to come and see him, and Mom, like always, refused to talk about him. “Um, hi.” Christ, he sounded like a kid. His father’s assistant or receptionist or whoever it was who answered would never take him seriously. He cleared his throat. “This is Alec Savage. Is my father there?” “Your father?” The guy sounded confused. It didn’t help when he added, “Hang on.” He didn’t get put on hold. Instead, he heard subdued voices in the background. What kind of business did his dad have that they didn’t have a hold button? Or a receptionist who knew how to use it if they did? “Alec?” A different man. Though his pulse had started to slow while he waited, it picked up speed again as he realized he was talking to his father. Holy s**t. This was it. “Where did you get this number?” The demanding question threw him. “What do you mean? I found it on your desk. I didn’t break in,” he hastened to add. “But I got worried when I saw all the glass, and you weren’t answering the door—” “Slow down. First. Where are you?” “At your house.” “Is this a prank?” “What? No, why would I do that? You’re the one who invited me to DC.” “Oh.” The stern tone relaxed. “You’re at Will’s. That makes more sense.” It didn’t to Alec. Because that meant he wasn’t talking to his father after all. “Who is this?” “Martin.” The name meant nothing to him. “Who?” “Martin Savage. Your dad’s my kid brother. Why did you call if you didn’t know who you were dialing?” “Because…” His mind was reeling. He had an uncle. Family. Were there more of them out there? His mom had been a foster kid with no family to claim, so Alec had grown up with only her as blood relation. She’d done her best to surround him with friends, but deep in his heart, he’d always wondered what it would be like to have a huge, extended family to call his own. That was one reason why he’d agreed to meet with his father. He hadn’t really expected to get much out of it, but the possibility for more had always lurked in the background. “It was written down with my name on it. Why would he do that?” “Where in the house did you find it?” He glanced around. “I think it’s his office. It’s a little room next to the downstairs bathroom.” “And you got in?” “Yeah, but he’s not here.” He felt like he was going to throw up. “I think something bad has happened.” “What did you say about glass?” “It was all over the deck. The patio doors were shattered. That’s why I let myself in.” “On the deck,” Martin repeated. “Not inside.” “Right.” He saw where Martin was going and kicked himself for not realizing it already. “They must’ve been broken from the inside. But I didn’t see any blood. Wouldn’t there have been blood if there was a fight? s**t, I should call 911—” “No. No police.” “But if something’s happened—” “The police won’t be able to do anything to help. Look, Alec, I need you to get out of there right now. Did you drive or take a taxi from the airport?” “I drove, but—” “Then get in your car and drive to Dulles. It’ll be harder for them to find you there.” “Them?” “The men after your father.” Martin sounded exasperated. Alec couldn’t blame him. He was feeling the same way. “I know you have questions, but there’s no time right now for me to answer them. You need to get out of that house before you’ve wasted the chance Will bought for you.” “Bought for me? How did I get sucked into this?” “Oh, for f**k’s sake…” He didn’t have time to react to the warning growl of his newfound uncle’s voice. The phone grew hot in his hand, too hot to handle, and he snatched it away from his ear as the case exploded off it and pieces of hot metal seeped through the exposed cracks. He dropped it when someone pounded on the door. “Alec?” Something about the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. The handle rattled, but the door didn’t open. “You have to come out. It’s locked to me.” Alec reached for the door, only to hesitate before touching it. If he was in danger, how did he know this guy wasn’t the real threat? “Who are you?” “Rowan Bouchard.” The name meant nothing. “Martin sent me to get you out of here.” That was impossible. Martin had only discovered where he was seconds ago. When Alec didn’t answer right away, Rowan added, “You’re in danger here. I don’t know why, but I do know that Martin didn’t have time for you to keep on asking questions. That’s why he sent me. It’s okay that you’re confused, but I’m the real deal.” Alec snorted. “The real deal who just magically appeared out of nowhere?” “Not nowhere. The Savage Estate.” The connection finally clicked. Rowan was the one who’d answered the phone. At least, it sounded like him. Alec had to be sure. “What did I ask for when I called?” Rowan didn’t hesitate. “You said your name, and then you asked if your father was there.” A short bark of laughter. “Which kind of threw me because Martin doesn’t have any kids.” Nobody else could’ve known that. Alec grasped the handle and turned it. It opened easily, which only added to the growing list of questions he had about this whole situation. He came face-to-face with one of the most gorgeous guys he’d ever seen. Considering he’d grown up in Miami where beautiful, half-naked men were the norm, that said a hell of a lot. Jewel green eyes gazed down at Alec in tense expectation. At six feet tall, Alec wasn’t accustomed to being the shorty in the room, but this guy kept going up and up and up when he tilted his head back. s**t, he had to be six-six, six-seven, maybe, with a long, sleek body so tightly muscled the jeans and black cable-knit sweater he wore might as well have been painted on. His trim dark hair had a thick wave to it where it curled around his ears, and his square jaw was only made more determined by the firm set of his full mouth. He didn’t look like he got out in the sun much, but his skin was flawless, stretched taut over the sharp blades of his cheekbones. Rowan Bouchard could have just stepped out of an L.L. Bean catalog, and he was here for a so-called rescue? Alec was either the luckiest bastard in the world, or getting punked by someone who knew exactly what his type was. Rowan’s gaze swept over Alec, shrewd and sure. “Where’s your car?” “Parked outside.” “Come on then.” Grasping Alec’s elbow, he hauled him out from the room, heading for the front door. “Hey!” Alec struggled to pull free, but the best he could manage was forcing Rowan to slow down. Damn, but the guy was strong. “We can’t go out that way.” “It’s faster.” “It’s also locked. I came in the back. If someone sees me coming out the front when they didn’t see me come in, won’t they start asking questions?” Rowan glanced at him without stopping. “That’s not my problem.” But it sure as hell was Alec’s. Plus, his fingerprints were all over the house. If police showed up, and he wasn’t here to defend himself, things could get ugly. He lashed out in a desperate attempt to break free, but at the last second, Rowan ducked, twisted, and body-slammed him into the wall. As Alec did his best not to panic at the powerful forearm now braced across his throat, he tried instead to focus on the positive side of the situation. Muscles. Big ones. Attached to a very hot, incredibly sexy man who…now had him at his mercy. s**t. Rowan’s nose twitched, and for a brief moment, his gaze ducked. When their eyes met again, a fresh glitter had appeared in Rowan’s. “Are you always this difficult?” “This is my ass I’m trying to cover here,” he shot back. “Excuse me for not wanting to f**k things up more than they already seem to be.” “If I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, will you stop looking for excuses not to cooperate?” “You can’t promise that.” “Looks like the answer to my question is yes, you really are always this difficult.” “I don’t even know who you are!” “I’m the guy who just got teleported a couple thousand miles so I can save your sorry skin.” Alec’s lips parted to argue that he didn’t need saving when Rowan’s words sank in. Wait. Teleported?