Lunatic, page 8
The man sort of hung there for a moment then collapsed onto the floor. Mac was already on the move, snagging the comforter and laying it beside the man, rolling him onto it before rifling through the dead man’s pockets, likely looking for any type of identifier.
The shrill pitch of the phone ringing beside him was like a shard of ice in his ear canal. He snatched it up before it could ring again, schooling his voice into something as calm as possible. “Hello?”
“Um, Mr. Mulvaney. This is the front desk,” a meek male voice said from the other side of the line.
Of course, it was. Who else would be calling on a landline? Archer tried to push down his impatience. “Yes?”
“Um, our valet said the suite beside you thought they heard…gunfire? Do you need assistance? Should I call the police?”
Mac watched him intently as if waiting for Archer to tell him they needed to flee. “What? Gunfire? Oh, no, that was just the surround sound my father had installed. We just got a little carried away watching a movie. We’ll keep it down. We apologize for startling the valet. We’ll make sure to tip appropriately.”
“Oh, of course. Thank you, Mr. Mulvaney. And congratulations again.”
Then the line disconnected. Congratulations? On the surround sound? On not being dead? Archer shook the thought away. They didn’t have time to worry about some front desk attendant.
Mac’s brows ran for his hairline. “They bought that?”
“My father pays people very well to keep this suite available to us. They don’t really want to know anything. It’s far easier for them to just take us at our word. After all, my father is Thomas Mulvaney. He wouldn’t harm a fly.”
Mac shrugged, grimacing as he dissected the man’s wallet, flinging pieces of paper onto the floor. “Nothing. No ID, no credit cards. Not even a parking slip. Definitely another fucking pro. Goddammit.”
Archer’s head throbbed, but he forced himself to think. “I need to call my father.”
Mac didn’t even argue, just nodded grimly. “I need to get dressed.”
Archer looked around the room, searching for his phone, which he usually kept on the bedside table regardless of where he was staying. It wasn’t there. Mac didn’t actually get dressed but sat on the corner of the bed, digging his palms into his eyes. “Where are we?”
“My father’s suite at the Golden Palm,” Archer said, looking around just to reassure himself he was correct.
“Right,” he grunted, as if he should know that information. “And how did we get here again?”
That was the million dollar question. “I-I honestly don’t fucking remember.”
Archer rubbed his temples, racking his brain to remember a single thing that happened after the poker game. Archer had won a lot of money. Mac had helped himself to a lot of booze. That much Archer remembered. He had also over-imbibed, which was rare nowadays.
They had opted for a car service instead of the Rover. Mac had given him a handjob in the back of the limo. Had he returned the favor? After that, it was mostly just flashes. Them playing blackjack in the casino. And losing. A lot. Them buying shit in the gift shop. Them drinking at the bar with two men dressed as gladiators. Them taking pics in front of the fountain at the Bellagio. Them making out in a darkened hallway like teenagers. Them fucking in the shower. How did they even have time to sleep?
“What time is it?” Archer asked, looking around for any type of clock.
Mac looked at his watch. “Two-thirty in the afternoon. Shit. Boone’s gonna be fucking furious.”
Yeah, their first meeting had been scheduled for nine that morning. They’d clearly missed it.
“Shit.” Archer stood, looking for their abandoned clothes. He started in the bathroom since they’d clearly been in the shower at some point. He was relieved to see their clothes piled on the floor, though some looked unfamiliar.
He found his phone in the pocket of his jeans, relieved again to see there was some battery left. He frowned when he saw several missed calls from Thomas and well, everybody else in the family. Fuck. What now? Had Avi and Felix desecrated another hotel room?
Archer winced thinking about the corpse in the next room. Pot calling the kettle black at this point, he supposed. Whatever the drama was, it could wait until they dealt with their own hotel room drama. He made his way back into the main room where Mac was rolling the body up into the comforter, still very much naked.
Archer allowed himself a moment to peruse all those freckles as he pressed the button for his father and waited for it to connect. He didn’t have to wait long.
“There you are,” Thomas snapped. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Archer blinked at his father’s tone. “What? I know we’re late, but Boone—”
Thomas cut him off. “You know, I expect this from the others, but not you. You’re the one I never have to worry about. Except, here you are, and you’ve made a huge fucking mess.”
Archer looked down at the corpse and then at the corners of the room, scanning for any cameras. Did Thomas have this place wired? He looked once again at Mac. Had they had sex in this room? Had his father seen that, too? Surely, he was just being paranoid. “How did you know?”
“How did I know?” Thomas shouted, exasperated. “It’s all over the goddamn internet, Archer. What do you mean, how did I know? Did you really think you could get married in some cheap Vegas wedding chapel and it wouldn’t be national fucking news?”
Archer felt like he had an anvil in his stomach. “Come again?”
Archer wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell his father that there was clearly some mistake, but he knew it wasn’t. The congratulations from the front desk clerk suddenly made a lot of sense, as did the black band on Archer’s left hand. A band that had gone unnoticed up until that moment.
Holy shit.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomas asked.
Archer’s stomach sloshed aggressively. “At the moment? I’m hungover, there’s a dead body in my hotel room, and you’re screaming at me.”
“What do you mean there’s a dead body in your hotel room?” Thomas whisper-growled into the phone.
“I suppose, technically, there’s a dead body in your hotel room,” Archer managed. “What do you mean I’m married?”
“What?” Mac snapped, his eyes bugging out almost cartoonishly as he did a double take of their left hands, lingering on the rings they both wore.
Mac also had a wedding band, a polished wooden one that looked hand-carved and expensive and exactly like something Mac would want. Jesus. They’d not only gotten married, they’d put some thought into it.
Archer dragged his focus back to Thomas as he continued to snarl his words into the phone, clearly agitated. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Please, tell me that you weren’t actually drunk when this happened. Please, tell me that my level-headed son who I trust with top secret military access wasn’t actually so hammered he doesn’t remember getting married.”
Mac stood and went into the bathroom, returning with his own phone, expression pained as he stared at the screen. Archer imagined if Thomas knew, so did Molly. Between their two families, this was going to be a fucking circus.
“Alright, I won’t tell you,” Archer said, once more desperately trying to fill the holes in his memories. “There has to have been some mistake. I’m sure of it,” Archer lied.
Mac turned his phone towards him, giving Archer a pissy look. It was a post from TMZ showing Archer and Mac clutching each other under a garish floral archway while an Elvis impersonator officiated what looked very much like a wedding. Not a Mulvaney wedding, but a wedding just the same.
“Or not…” Archer said. “I mean, I don’t know why it would be that big of a deal. We’re both consenting adults.”
Archer knew exactly why it was a big deal. They were Mulvaneys. They were under constant scrutiny. They were secret undercover murderers, and Archer had just married a man whose mother was known as the psychopath whisperer. Like, literally, that was what people called her.
But he didn’t say any of that. He didn’t have to. His father was already way ahead of him. “Because you married a man who is a dead ringer for a man who is already married…to a goddamn A-list celebrity. Do you know how many hours my publicist spent this morning assuring reporters that your new husband is not, in fact, a polygamist, but is instead just the identical twin of Elijah Dunne’s husband?”
That hadn’t even made it to Archer’s list. “Oh. That. Right. Listen, Dad, I get it. I fucked up. But maybe we can save the lecture on my impromptu nuptials so we can address the dead body in the room?”
Thomas growled out his frustration, then said, “Shower, get dressed, and get out of there. Make sure you put the do not disturb sign up on the door. I’ll get a crew out there to clean up this mess. How bad is it?”
Archer winced. “It was a headshot.”
“Christ. What do you and your brothers have against hotel rooms?” Thomas muttered.
“He was trying to kill Mac,” Archer said. “What choice did I have?”
Thomas grunted. It was bad when his father went monosyllabic. When he decided to forego words altogether, they were treading into Aiden territory. Still, he finally sighed before saying, “Yeah, your husband dying of a gunshot wound on your wedding night after a rushed Vegas wedding would have been an even bigger disaster.”
“See? Silver linings,” Archer said faintly, watching as his naked husband put the phone to his ear, his expression bleak.
“Hang on,” Thomas snapped, then left Archer to do just that.
After a moment, Mac said, “Hey, Mom.”
Archer couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could hear how she was saying it. Mac didn’t say a word, didn’t even attempt to get a word in, just nodded as if she could see him. It was clear he didn’t like upsetting his mother.
Archer didn’t like upsetting Thomas either. It helped to avoid lectures like this. But Mac looked sad, then guilty, then sad again as he paced around the corpse on the floor. “I know, Mom. I know. I—yeah, of course, I know—I’ll apologize to Jaynie—then what do you want me—no, it wasn’t a mistake—I—we—Mom! Stop. I’m sorry. I said I’m sorry.”
Thomas sighed. “You have thirty minutes to get out of there and get yourself in the public eye. Try to look like you’ve never been more in love before.”
“Um, okay? And then what?”
“And then the two of you get your asses on a plane and come home. I’ll call Boone and let him know the project is on hold for the next week. We’re going to get this all sorted out, including who is after the newest Mulvaney spouse, and then we’re going to figure out exactly how to play this. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Wedded bliss, then home.”
“Unbelievable,” Thomas muttered, then he was gone, leaving Archer to watch Mac try to extricate himself from his own conversation. When it looked like there was no end in sight, Archer finally tapped on his invisible watch, letting him know they were on a time constraint.
“Mom, I gotta go. We had an…unforeseen complication. Thomas can fill you in, but I have to be out of here in the next twenty-five minutes.” There was another brief pause. “Yeah, I love you, too.”
“My dad says we need to shower and then go be seen in public looking in love. He’s sending a crew to clean this up.”
“And then what?” Mac said, looking around the hotel room. At some point, they’d knocked over a champagne bucket. The bottle sat empty on the floor and there was a darkened spot where the ice had melted.
They’d clearly partied like they were in an eighties hair band last night. Archer’s head throbbed. And now, they were paying the price. He needed a gallon of water and a bucket of Advil and to brush his teeth. It felt like he’d spent the night licking the carpet.
Mac nodded, then walked into the bathroom without another word, yanking the water to scalding. Archer went to the sink and grabbed one of the two wrapped toothbrushes, handing one to Mac who took it without a word.
Mac seemed to be rolling things around in his head, his gaze unfocused as they scrubbed their teeth. Once he’d rinsed, he stepped into the shower, then gave Archer an expectant look. “You coming or what?”
Archer blinked in surprise, but stepped into the large space, giving Mac plenty of room just in case he was furious with Archer for letting this whole thing happen.
Mac clearly had other plans. He dragged Archer against him under the water and slammed their mouths together, his tongue stabbing inside. Archer’s cock hardened against Mac’s hip as he bit and sucked at his lips.
“What are we doing?” Archer asked between harsh kisses.
“You’re turning around and facing the glass, and I’m going to fuck you until we both feel better,” Mac growled, spinning Archer around and forcing him up against the foggy barrier.
Archer moaned as Mac’s lips slid along the slick skin of his neck and shoulder, then his jaw. All Archer could do was tilt his head to the side, giving him better access to whatever part of him Mac wanted. “We have to be quick…”
Archer’s warning died on a gasp as Mac sank two fingers into him, working them in and out roughly, rasping against his ear, “Fuck, you’re wet, Katniss. I guess we’ve already done this once. I told you I can’t get enough of you. I guess now I don’t have to.”
Mac slid his fingers free and then the blunt head of his cock was pressing against Archer’s hole. He didn’t even wait for Mac, just eased himself back onto the thick length of him. God, he was huge. It was the perfect type of invasion, driving the chaos of the day from his mind.
Once Mac was buried inside him, his arm went around Archer’s waist, holding him against him so he could pound into him again and again like he had something to prove. Maybe he did. Archer didn’t care. This was exactly what he needed. Mac inside him, surrounding him, his breath on his skin, and his hand jerking him off.
Usually, when they came together like this, Mac purred filthy things into Archer’s ear. But not this time. This time, he was just holding him tight, his panting breaths puffing against his cheek. It somehow made the whole thing more real, more intimate, like there were no barriers between them, not even words. There was nothing to distract Archer from how fucking intertwined they were on every level.
Mac came first, biting down on Archer’s earlobe with a grunt as he filled Archer up for what had to be at least the second time since they’d entered the room. Archer expected Mac to keep jerking him off but he dropped his hand, turning him around, then fell to his knees, swallowing Archer’s aching cock in one go.
Archer’s knees almost gave way. There really wasn’t anything this man wasn’t good at. Christ. Pleasure shivered along his nerve endings, every drag of Mac’s sucking mouth hurtling Archer towards his own release until he had to say, “I’m gonna come.”
Mac moaned around him, three fingers forcing their way back inside his hole to press on that tiny bundle of nerves. And that was it, that was all it took. He cried out, his hands fisting in Mac’s hair, his body practically bending in half as he came hard enough to see stars.
After a minute, Archer pulled Mac to his feet and sealed their mouths together, tasting himself on his tongue. When he stepped back, Mac surprised Archer by dropping a kiss on the top of his wet head before grabbing the open bar of hotel soap. “Thanks. I needed that.”
It occurred to him then that he never really took the time to appreciate how fucking beautiful Mac was. He was almost supernaturally gorgeous. He was toned and sleek with freckles literally everywhere. His hair was an impossible shade of auburn and his eyes a greenish gold that Archer had never even known existed before they met. Archer was tempted to take the soap away from Mac and wash him nice and slow.
But there was no time for any of that. When Mac was lathered, Archer took the soap, doing the same, finishing up their shower as quickly as possible.
Only once they were dressed and heading for the door did Archer dare to ask, “Are you good?”
Mac looked at him in surprise. “Me? Yeah, I’m fine.”
Archer frowned at him, trying to tell if this was some kind of coping mechanism or if maybe Mac was more of a sociopath than Molly Shepherd had thought.
“We’re married,” Archer said slowly, holding up his hand as evidence, waiting for the reality of the situation to finally sink in.
Mac looked at him like he was crazy. “Yeah, I’m aware. I have one, too,” he reminded him, giving his left hand a little shake.
Archer studied him intently. “The fact that we’re married isn’t freaking you out even a little?”
“Is it freaking you out?” Mac countered, examining Archer in return.
Archer stopped short, checking in with his own feelings on the notion for the first time. He was married to Mackenzie Shepherd. They were married. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. Or however that went.
Forever. He would be looking at that face for the rest of his life. He would be fighting with that stubborn man for the rest of his life. He waited for the panic to set in. Or, at the very least, some sort of irritation at the thought of having to share his space and his life with another human being. But it never came.
Maybe it was because he was a psychopath. But Archer didn’t think so. Whatever this feeling was…he couldn’t put it into words. There was a weird sense of calm that washed over him at the thought of being married to Mac. One that made no sense.
Maybe it was because it was a mistake easily remedied. They could just go and have it annulled. That was the thing about Vegas. Marriage was easy in but also fairly easy out. Especially when you came from money.
But the idea of dissolving their marriage had the exact opposite effect on Archer. It made him…agitated. Mac was his. Just his. And now he had the ring and the papers to prove it. Wasn’t that what Noah had said? Find someone whose crazy matches yours and then legally bind them to you forever so they could never leave you?
