Indebted Read online

  iyons

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  5032 Capital Circle SW

  Suite 2, PMB# 279

  Tallahassee, FL 9161-7886

  USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Indebted

  © 2013 A.R. Hawkins.

  Cover Art

  © 2013 L.C. Chase.

  http://www.lcchase.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

  ISBN: 978-1-12386-062-8

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-302-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  November 2013

  www.superiorz.org

  To my amazing friends for helping and encouraging me on this endeavor. Thank you for the countless hours you spent with me on this project.

  Chapter 1

  PRESSURE IS an interesting thing and it’s amazing what a little of it can get you. Thanks to my dad, John Sandoval, I am now a master of the giving and taking of it. He made sure to exert the right amount on me while I was growing up. Now, here I am, forced into a role of power and responsibility I never wanted.

  If you’d asked me as a young boy what I wanted to be, I’d have told you a firefighter. They’re noble men and women who risk their lives for others, often on a volunteer basis. However, as I got older, I would have told you a social worker. They often help people for little thanks or pay. I’ve always liked the idea of selfless acts. Never would I have thought I would end up working with my dad in one of the shadiest operations you can ever imagine, that’s for sure.

  My father was never one to deal well with financial struggle. He liked the finer things in life, and apparently, so did Mom. His company, Sandoval Title Loans, wasn’t profitable enough. He couldn’t give her those things she felt she deserved, so she left us. She took off without even so much as a backward glance at me. That hurt like hell as a kid, but I made myself numb to the pain, finally coming to the realization she wasn’t worth missing.

  Unfortunately, after my mom left, my dad stopped caring about family obligations altogether and started focusing only on financial gain. I guess he figured if you fail at one, you might as well succeed in the other.

  That was when I was thirteen.

  It was about a month after Mom left that Dad really started to change. I would come home after school and see him with all these strange men. To me, they always seemed tense, and would just as soon punch a guy out as look at him. Dad would schmooze them in a way I’d never seen before. Drinks were at the ready, along with fancy meals and women. There were always women. Where they suddenly came from, I had no clue, but they were always hanging all over Dad’s guests.

  One of them even came up to me once. She pinched my cheeks and said, “You are so adorable, and I could just lick those dimples.”

  If that didn’t creep me out enough, she then reached down and grabbed my ass, squeezing enough to dig her nails in. Dad didn’t like her attention drawn away from his new visitors.

  He shouted, “Jesus Christ, Becky, he’s thirteen fuckin’ years old! Now get your ass over here and meet Donald.” Leveling a glare at me, he sneered, “Don’t you have some homework to get to?”

  Grabbing my book bag, I sighed. “Yeah, Dad. I’ll be in my room.”

  As the months went by, I noticed one man in particular who stood out. He was tall, lean, and blond, and had a really hard edge to him. Even as a kid, I knew he wasn’t someone to mess with, and it seemed everyone deferred to him. My dad would practically lick his shoes when he decided to grace us with his presence.

  I eventually learned he was none other than Thomas Everson, the head of the notorious Everson crime family. He had taken a liking to John Sandoval. After all, Dad was sharp with money and had many finance degrees to prove it. His loan company was taking off, but not as fast as he would have liked. I guess that was where the Eversons came in. Turned out, Dad was weaseling his way into a fairly good standing with Thomas.

  By the time I turned fifteen, the loan company was absorbed into the Everson portfolio, and Dad became their “Manager of Finances.” In crooked terms, it meant he was now behind all the dirty financial wheeling and dealing.

  When I was sixteen, Dad decided it was time for his son to start earning his keep and stop being a “useless layabout lapping up all his hard work.” I started off as a runner, usually giving messages and delivering packages. I learned the hard way to never be nosy or ask questions. I made that mistake once when I peeked inside a delivery and ran my mouth about what I’d seen. That quickly travelled to Thomas, and my loving father let Everson’s thugs beat me within an inch of my life.

  Without a doubt, I can say I was never the same after that. All the hopes and dreams that my life would return to a normal teenager’s were over. There would be no prom, sports, or dreams of college. I knew I would never get out of the life I was destined for. I’m ashamed to admit it, but at that point, I accepted it and gave myself over to this horrible existence. With that admission, I was determined I would never let myself be vulnerable again.

  Just like that, the boy who once existed was gone.

  By the age of eighteen, I aligned myself with one of the toughest motherfuckers in Thomas’s employ: Tristan Walsh. He was a few years older than me but had already made a name for himself as the “God of War.” To me, though, Tristan was the guy who took me under his wing. He must have seen how lost I was and felt sorry for me. Who knew the God of War had a soft spot?

  Tristan started off with getting me to the gym as often as possible. Also, he began fighting lessons and shooting drills every morning at the crack of dawn. He worked me so hard I would drag myself to bed each night. I swiftly earned his respect, though, due to always being there before him and ready for more. Throughout all that, we became good friends. I could laugh and be myself with him in a way I hadn’t been since Mom was around. He never made fun of me or belittled me. He still doesn’t know how much that meant to me. No matter what kind of illegal, horrible things he does, he’s my personal hero.

  All the hero worship and close proximity eventually led to a discovery about myself. I started noticing things about Tristan I’m sure most guys wouldn’t: like how, when he bent over, his pants would tighten perfectly over his ass. When he got closer or leaned in to show me a technique, his sweaty, musky male scent would assault me, and I’d start to harden. By the time I started having fantasies about him in the shower, there was no doubt in my mind that I was gay. To say I was scared shitless was an understatement.

  I had no clue how I was going to hide it. My father would not be happy with a gay son, but only because it wouldn’t suit his needs. I really didn’t want to mess things up, either. Thanks to Tristan, I was becoming one
tough asshole who could hold his own in any situation. I had also become really fuckin’ huge, thanks to all the time at the gym. Unfortunately, my teenage hormones would not be overcome, and my dad walked in on me with a cute little twink. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover that situation….

  Slamming the door, he marched right into my bedroom, yelling, “What the fuck is goin’ on in here, boy?”

  The twink pulled the blanket over his head.

  I jumped out of bed with only a sheet around my hips and allowed the chips to fall where they may. “What the fuck does it look like, Dad? Your son was getting laid until you barged in.”

  I had lost some fear of my father finding out after talking to Tristan about my being gay. Amazingly, he wasn’t even fazed. He made me realize I wasn’t a weak little kid anymore. If someone had a problem with it, I could fuck ’em up. Due to that conversation, I decided I wouldn’t out and tell my dad, but if he did find out, I wasn’t going to be ashamed of who I was. He’d taken enough from me already.

  Looking me up and down with disgust, he spat, “I always knew you’d be a fag! All that sissy whining you did after Thomas punished you proved that.” Pacing back and forth, he sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “Fine! I don’t give a fuck where you stick your dick, as long as you don’t turn up wearing pink and flaunting your penchant for ass.”

  With that, he turned and left the room.

  Letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I sat down on the bed, stunned. I couldn’t believe I had won that small battle, but it felt good, nonetheless.

  It wasn’t long before everyone knew I was gay. It was a long, uphill battle to regain the respect of the men working beside me. Why they suddenly thought I couldn’t kick their ass, because I’m gay, I will never figure out.

  By the age of twenty, I had regained everyone’s respect, including a very small part of my dad’s. I’d been moved to work as a collection’s enforcer officer for my dad’s section of the organization. He ran the loan sharking, along with helping determine what investments would be profitable for Thomas.

  My job consisted of collecting loan payments and handing down punishments for any that were missed. It should have bothered me, but by that point I had shut down any feelings of sympathy for anyone, including myself. That’s how I got my nickname: The Machine. I could easily break the bones of some family man and then go shoot pool and have drinks with my friends. I didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of me, and I sure as hell wasn’t afraid of them.

  By the time I turned twenty-four, Dad had learned I had a flair for creative finances like him, and moved me into a management position.

  At age twenty-six, I took over for him, and he focused his talents on Thomas’s other money ventures….

  The sound of a buzzer startles me, and I realize I must have dozed off. I irritably hit the button on the intercom. “Yeah, what is it, Addison?”

  She clicks her tongue at me and then her loud voice comes over the speaker. “Liam Sandoval, don’t you take that tone with me, or I’ll tell Tristan if he doesn’t get his friend in line, there will be no sex for a week.”

  Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but chuckle. “Fuck, Addison! Don’t do that shit. You know Tristan will fuck me up if I cost him quality time with his lady.”

  I can hear her laughing in the background. “Oh, how the mighty fall at my feet.”

  I wasn’t about to tell her it was more like Tristan’s feet. “What did you want, babe?”

  “Well, I was calling to tell you John will be here in about ten minutes. He said something about having an issue you need to deal with.”

  Oh, fucking great, that’s just what I need today, when I’m trying to wrap up the end of month. I groan and sit there, trying to figure out what the hell he could want. I hate dealing with the bastard, even if he is my father.

  I hear a disgusted grunt coming from the intercom. “Um…. Hello? Are you going to answer me or not?”

  Shaking my head to get my shit together, I say, “Yeah, Addison, sorry about that. What did you ask?”

  “I said, ‘What do you want me to do when his majesty arrives?’ Roll out the red carpet? Twitter his location to all the people who would like to see him dead? Or, I could tell him you skipped the country with all his precious money….”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or take her up on one of her offers, so I choose to laugh. “Don’t tempt me,” I reply. “Just let me know when he gets here and then let him in. Oh, and one more thing… no matter how tempting it is, please don’t sass him. You know I love it, but it gets him all worked up. The sooner he gets in here, the sooner I can get rid of him.”

  “Fine, whatever. I’ll let you have all the fun of pissing him off.” Addison sighs heavily before she hangs up.

  I stand up, stretch my back, and pop my neck. The whole time, I’m trying to think why he feels the need to address one of my business problems in person. For the life of me, I can’t figure it out.

  The sound of the intercom buzzing breaks the silence. “Liam, John is here to see you.”

  Sitting down, I take a deep breath and let it out before replying to Addison. “Let him in.”

  The doors open and in he strides, looking rather put out. I guess maybe we should have gone with the red carpet. We have many similarities in looks but definitely couldn’t be confused for one another. We are about the same height at 6’6”, but he has a much smaller frame. We do have the same dark wavy hair, brown eyes, and olive skin tone, though. Other than that, we are completely different. John always looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon, while I am known to have a smile on my face more often than not. He is all business, and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Unfortunately, I can tell by the way he’s carrying himself this is clearly going be a shitty visit.

  “John, what brings you by?” We long ago gave up the façade of a father-son relationship. He prefers to be called John, and to be honest, I haven’t wanted to call him Dad since he let them beat me all those years ago.

  Sitting down with a huff, he says, “As if you don’t know.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.” I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you quit playing games and tell me what’s going on?”

  John stares me down for a moment before giving in. “Seems like there’s some talk about you not being able to rein in a Mr. Aaron Quinn, Sr. I was sent by Thomas to make sure you weren’t going soft on us.”

  I’m completely taken aback by this. As far as I know, the Quinn account is business as usual. The real question for me is who is running their mouth? I undoubtedly will be checking in to that. In the meantime, I need to soothe dickhead’s fears.

  “I don’t know how Quinn is different from any other account. I certainly have no soft spot for that slimy bastard.” I sit back and steeple my hands together. “He came in here at the end of last month wanting a loan of ten grand to tide things over. Nothing fancy; he signed the standard contract. In fact, during our chat, he said he would do anything to have his company succeed.” Looking him in the eye, I bite out, “He reminded me of you, in that regard. So, I positively do not have any love for him.”

  Jumping to his feet, slamming his hands down on the desk, and getting into my face, John seethes, “You watch your mouth, boy, or I’ll—”

  “Or you’ll what?” Not even bothering to get up, I look directly into his eyes, hold myself in an intimidating posture, and let all the hate I feel for him permeate every inch of me. “You think I’m scared of you, old man? I think you keep forgetting I’m not a little boy anymore. You made me this way, and now you’re going to have to deal with it. Now, I suggest you sit your ass down so we can finish this and you can get the hell out of here.”

  John staggers back with wide eyes that hold more than a little fear. Swallowing a couple of times and clearing his throat, he reluctantly sits down.

  “Now, as I was saying before you had your tantrum—his payment was due two days ago. He called on the due date and asked if he cou
ld make arrangements. I, of course, laughed and reminded him this isn’t some damn bank. I told him he had until twelve today, adding a third more interest to this installment for being late. Since it’s only a little after ten, I’m not exactly ready to go on the hunt.”

  Nodding, John asks, “Does it seem favorable that he’ll pay?”

  I laugh, nodding my head in an affirmative. “Oh, he’ll pay. Either this afternoon as scheduled, or later this evening when we track him down. I’ve made sure he understands if he doesn’t, his business will be the last thing he’ll be worried about. My boys have quite the skill set. I’ve taught most of them myself.”

  Standing up and looking deflated, the older man grouses, “Well, it seems as though you have everything under control.” Not looking the least bit contrite, he adds, “Not that I thought otherwise. I guess I’ll head back to the main office.”

  He turns to leave and I follow him toward the door. I stop him by putting a hand on his arm. “I want to know, and I want to know now, where this rumor came from so I can deal with it appropriately.”

  Rolling his eyes, he says, “I couldn’t even begin to tell you. I was told by Mr. Everson to investigate. As you well know, you don’t question Thomas.”

  Jerking his arm away, he makes his way to the door, and I call after him, “Just so you know, and you can inform Mr. Everson of this too, I will be looking into this on my own.”

  Not even turning around, he says, “Fine. If you decide to do anything permanent, I suggest you get permission first.”

  Watching the doors close, I sit down heavily in my chair.

  I wonder if someone is trying to fuck with me, or if the old man is getting bored and trying to stir shit up. It wouldn’t be the first time he put my ass in a sling. I figure it’s worth it to at least have one trusted ear to the ground, and I pick up the phone.

  Letting it ring close to ten times, I’m getting ready to hang up when Tristan answers. “Walsh here.”

  Tristan’s voice, with his slight southern twang, has a way of calming me and uplifting my mood.