Snowcroft Restoration: Men of Snowcroft, #4

By Christi Snow

Two years ago, Law Wyman went undercover for an FBI investigation that went sideways. It cost him both the love of his life and his sanity. The nightmare still haunts him, and so does some unfinished business...Ian Mayne, the son of the man who ruined his life.

Two years ago, Ian had to face the truth about how his father spent a lifetime torturing and trafficking LGBTQ teens. Ever since, Ian has done everything he can to make up for his dead father’s many sins through his law enforcement job. Too many paid in horrific, horrible ways at his father’s hands while Ian kept the truth about his own sexuality hidden.

Law is doing all he can to save Ian, but Ian doesn’t necessarily want to be saved.

Two men...both horrifically haunted by what happened. Is it possible they can find healing together? Only if they have the courage to face their demons and each other...

Trigger Warning: This is a hot story about two men who have both survived past abuse.

Series order:

1. Snowcroft Lost
2. Snowcroft Safehouse
3. Intertwined Hearts
4. Snowcroft Restoration

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christi Snow
• Release date: Nov 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386031185

Christi Snow

Bio for Christi Snow As an avid reader her entire life, Christi Snow always dreamed of writing books that brought to others the kind of joy she felt when she read. But...she never did anything about it besides jot down a few ideas and sparse scenes. When her husband retired from the Air Force, Christi decided it was time to chase her dream and she started writing. She hasn’t stopped since. With twenty-two published books in various romance genres, she’s found her passion. Now she spends her days with her laptop writing about sexy, alpha heroes and the loves of their lives. Writing both as Christi Snow and one-half of the writing duo, KB Jacobs, Christi has fulfilled her dream... filling the world with more romance and suspense. Her tagline is... Passion and adventure on the road to Happily Ever After. She loves this adventure and has truly found her tribe!

Book preview

Prologue

TWO YEARS AGO

He pulled his Jeep into the ragged picnic area that looked like it was a breeding ground for snakes and lizards especially with the surrounding desert filled with swirling dirt and cactus. There wasn’t much out here in the middle of desolate New Mexico. Instead of rodents, though, the roadside pull off held his half brother, lazing against his monster custom motorcycle. He’d worn his full leathers, which made sense for highway riding.

To look at the two of them together, no one would ever guess they were related. His half brother took after his half-Mexican heritage he got from his mother...dark and dangerous. On the other hand, he looked more like their father...curly haired blond in a very non-threatening, geeky kind of way.

His brother stood as he climbed out of the Jeep and came over to greet him with a hug. That hug was everything. It had been too long since they’d seen one another.

Are you okay? Are you sure you aren’t in trouble? His brother examined him as if he could find the cracks in his façade.

I’m fine. No one can trace me to any of this. I’ve covered my tracks. Don’t worry. Kwinana may be out of commission, but this ensures God’s work will go on. He lifted the big duffel bag to show his brother. You can continue our work in the north until we can rebuild here.

His brother blew out a breath. How much?

Three and a half mil. Luckily, we decided a couple of years ago to keep the money off-site in case something like this happened. No one knows it ever existed. Kwinana had been fundraising for the epic battle against sick homos for years. Unfortunately, two days ago the government had come in and raided the entire place and shut it down.

Shut down their important work.

The two brothers had been battling homosexuality their whole lives. Their father had taught them just how sick those individuals were in the very worst possible way. That upbringing meant they would never allow homos to thrive here, not in their state.

When they finally got big enough to take down their father, they’d gotten matching tattoos to symbolize their fight against the practice of those evil acts. They were united in this fight.

Homosexuality was wrong in every sense, and they would drive the wickedness out. For good.

Chapter One

LAW WYMAN IGNORED THE pulse of desire in his groin while he watched the sexy man gyrate on the pedestal of the dance club. The throbbing inside him had taken up the steady beat of the bass that thumped throughout the club...centered at the root of his hard dick.

The flashing, strobing lights caressed the dips and hollows of the dancer’s incredible, muscular, oiled up body. He wore a mask that somehow enhanced his sexual mystique. But Law knew exactly who he was.

Law fisted his hands, resisting the urge to jump up on the pedestal to hide the man from the hungry gazes of the crowd so he could explore all that naked skin himself. He was here to protect the guy, not seduce him, no matter what his dick said.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ian Mayne was one sexy man. Every other time Law had seen him around Snowcroft, Ian had sported several days of beard and a scowl. A black cloud followed him everywhere.

But that wasn’t the case tonight. Dancing up there on stage in nothing more than a tiny jock that barely contained Ian’s dick and showcased his incredible bubble butt, Ian seemed almost carefree and happy in the mask that hid the top of his face. He definitely looked younger than his thirty-two years. With his clean-shaven face and that incredibly fit physique, he looked like a college coed dancing to earn his tuition. Definitely not the hardened Forestry Service law enforcement officer he really was.

The crowd was eating him up if the amount of bills stuffed into his jock was any indication. Ian dipped his hips, thrusting his half-hard dick barely contained in the tiny underwear into the searching, probing hands of the crowd. The move was meant to accept tips in his jock, but that didn’t stop the low growl from erupting deep in Law’s throat.

Law gnashed his teeth as one of the Wicked Nights patrons took a bit too much care stuffing the money into Ian’s jock, taking a good stroke of Ian’s cock at the same time. But Ian just winked at the guy and gently removed the offending hand like it was no big deal.

This was the third night Law had come to watch the show and watch over Ian. Every time it got more difficult to stay out of the fray. It had been two long years since he’d felt something even remotely close to sexual attraction. For it to happen here, now, with this man? It made no sense. But it didn’t change the facts. He wanted nothing more than to jump up there and yank Ian off that stage and away from the horny, grabby men.

Then he could take Ian into a back room where Law could be the grabby, horny man, plowing his hard cock into Ian’s tight bubble butt.

But he couldn’t do that. David, the Snowcroft Chief of Police, had sent him here to watch Ian’s back not lust after his ass. They both had jobs to do, and he needed to allow Ian to do his investigation. But that didn’t mean he was okay with leaving Ian out there without realizing he had backup. Law needed to stop hanging in the shadows. It was time for Ian to know he was here if he needed help.

Law rose from his table along the back wall in the darker part of the club, taking his bottle of beer with him as he approached the dance platform. He slowly worked his way through the gyrating crowd, trying to ignore and not flinch when men grabbed him and tried to coax him to dance with them. He only had one focus—Ian.

As if Ian could sense Law’s presence, his head drew up sharply and his gaze narrowed on Law from across the dance floor. That smirking smile on Ian’s face faltered for a moment, and he actually lost the rhythm of the song as Law headed his direction. Ian’s eyes widened for a split second, then he seemed to remember himself and continued to dance and flirt with the men surrounding him.

Regardless of Ian’s seeming interest in the men surrounding his platform, Law could feel Ian’s eyes on him all the way across the club. But when Law arrived at the platform, he didn’t approach it. He stood a few feet away and enjoyed the show.

That pulse through his cock became more and more insistent. It had been dead for over two years. For it to resurface now was inconvenient. If he ignored the existence of the desire, maybe it would go MIA again.

When Ian’s time ended on the platform, two of the big, meaty bouncers that handled the dancers in the club grabbed him and escorted him to the back. For a moment, Ian met Law’s eyes, giving him just the slightest shake of his head in warning. Then he disappeared behind the stage.

As he watched Ian leave, a prickling awareness crawled up Law’s neck. He turned slowly, watching for the perpetrator. He met the intense gaze of Ramirez Jones, the owner of Wicked Nights. He had bought the gay dance club six months ago and had been making his mark on the popular club ever since, Ramirez was the son of one of the biggest crime bosses in the southwest. Daddy Dearest was Miguel Jones, the president of the Rio Brotherhood motorcycle club.

Law gave Ramirez a subtle lift of his eyebrow, issuing a slight challenge to the man. It wouldn’t do to appear cowed in this environment, especially if Ian found himself in a bind. It was better to establish himself as a player now if he had to. Ramirez took the bait and began to cross the few feet of dance floor that separated the two of them.

Ramirez was all smiles when he got to Law’s side. You appear to be a man who sees something he likes. Ramirez nodded to the door where Ian had just disappeared.

Law nodded. I do. How much for the night?

Ramirez clucked his tongue. I think you misunderstand the business we do here. My boys are simple dancers. That’s all. Everything is completely above board.

Law chuckled low. Since Ramirez had taken over, Wicked Nights had become famous for its back rooms and the activities that went on there. That was why this undercover assignment was so damn dangerous for Ian.

Sure it is. But I think maybe you misunderstood me. Law had worn relaxed clothes tonight, but the ten thousand dollar watch on his wrist had caught Ramirez’s eye. They both knew he’d pay for what he wanted. I’m a man of discerning tastes, and I’m willing to make concessions to get what I want. He looked at the watch pointedly and then shrugged. But if you don’t want my business, I can go elsewhere.

Ramirez’s gaze turned shrewd. I think you misunderstand me, Mr... He trailed off, prompting Law to fill in the information.

Law Wyatt. And you are? Law reached his hand out to the man, giving a firm, solid grip. The fake identity had been established by the FBI for an undercover mission last year shortly before he quit, but when he’d checked, all the alibis for it were still rock solid.

Ramirez Jones. Ramirez gave an equally hard squeeze back but smiled with an ease of someone who felt trust had been established. I’m the lucky owner of this fine establishment. Come. Let’s go have a drink, and we can discuss our business further. Ramirez waved to one of the burly men behind him forward and whispered some instructions to him.

The man hustled to the door where Ian had disappeared.

Law followed Ramirez toward the bar corner. As soon as they arrived, the extremely busy bartender was there, ready to take Ramirez’s order. It paid to be boss. It had taken Law a full fifteen minutes to get the bartender’s attention to order his beer earlier in the night.

Ramirez lifted his hand to the bartender. Two Johnnie Walkers, neat.

The bartender rapped on the bar with a nod. Got it. He grabbed the top shelf bottle off the wall behind him and poured the men two very generous glasses and slid the drinks in front of them with napkins for each.

Law took a deep swallow and slowly grinned. Nice place you have here. With this kind of service, I may have to come in more often.

We try to keep our loyal customers happy. So tell me, Mr. Wyatt, what interests you with our young John?

Law almost choked on the name Ian had chosen to go by here. John. Damn, was he fucking the johns that Ramirez brought in here? Would he sell his ass for this mission?

The idea that Law could hire Ian was far too tempting, yet at the same time, the idea turned his stomach. He has some titillating moves. Law eyed Ramirez, judging his reactions. I’d be interested to study his form further in private.

Ramirez gave a slight nod and a sly grin. I see what you’re saying, but our young John isn’t as amenable as some others. Maybe you’d be interested in Zeb. He nodded at the bartender and gave him a twirl of the finger.

Zeb spun around slowly like he was a piece of meat they were discussing rather than a person. Law hadn’t realized until that moment that all the bartenders wore assless chaps with only slightly more front coverage than the dancers. Well, hell. What had Ian gotten himself into?

When the bartender turned around with a flirty expression on his face, Law winked. While tempting, I find myself feeling choosy tonight. I’m sure you understand discriminating tastes and all that.

He felt a bit sick to his stomach. He’d had to do lots of distasteful things while undercover, but talking about using a man like this—like he was nothing more than a slave to be used and discarded—brought back way too many memories that were better left buried. Deeply buried.

Indeed, I do. As I’m sure you understand the cost of doing business with some is more exclusive than others.

In other words, getting a shot at Ian’s ass would cost big bucks. He’d come here, expecting that. I think he’s probably worth it.

Ramirez nodded and gave a signal to Zeb, who picked up a phone behind the counter. Law was pretty sure Zeb relayed a message to someone in the back.

A zing of arousal threaded through his groin. His cock was not getting the memo that they weren’t really going to be making use of the Wicked Nights services with Ian, no matter how sexy the man appeared.

Sure enough, within moments, Ian sashayed from the doorway leading to the back of the dance club. He breezed across the dance floor with pure sensual grace, but the quick glare he aimed toward Law betrayed his real emotional state.

Ahh, there’s our boy. Ramirez waved Ian over at the same time that he nodded to the hulking security guard hovering over Ian’s back. John, come here. I’d like you to meet one of your fans. John, this is Law Wyatt. He’s interested in a private show.

John’s jaw clenched, his cheekbones standing out in stark relief to the rest of his face in the flashing lights from the dance floor. I thought I was clear that I wasn’t available for any of the extra services. His eyes sparked with temper as he cast a scathing glance at Law before schooling his feature into something a bit more accommodating for his boss.

You’ll have to excuse John, Mr. Wyatt. He’s new on staff, and we’ve been allowing him some leniency while he was settling in. But if he wants to keep his employment here, it’s time for him to pull his weight. The threat underlying those words didn’t have to be spoken.

Ian hesitated and frowned harder, making his displeasure known, but then the guard tightened his grip on Ian’s arm and the rebellion seemed to melt out of him.

Yes, sir, John bit out. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wyatt. How about we go someplace more private so we can get to know one another better?

Law nodded, not sure how to handle a really pissed-off Ian.

The big, burly bodyguard led the two of them to a non-descript doorway leading down a hall filled with other nondescript doors. He stopped in front of one, opened the door, and Ian and Law entered.

Sit, Ian instructed with a wave of his hand toward the chair in the middle of the room.

Ian didn’t even look at him as he went over to a sound system panel on the wall and cued up some music.

Law had no idea what would happen here, but he knew one thing for sure. He’d ticked Ian off good. Not exactly the best way to start off their new partnership.

Chapter Two

IAN MAYNE SCRAMBLED through his brain as he keyed up the dance music in the speaker system. How could he get them both out of this situation? Nerves and anger buzzed low in his belly. So far, he’d managed to keep from having to do the backroom chores, but with Law pushing this tonight, he’d lost his reprieve. The back of his neck prickled with heat from the knowledge about the cameras running in the room, recording their every move.

Dance music flooded the air with a pulsing beat. Ian took a deep breath and turned to face Law-fucking-Wyman. What the hell was he doing here? The big, gorgeous ex-agent overwhelmed the space with his mere presence.

Well, Law was trapped for now, so he might as well enjoy the show. Ian began to swivel his hips with the beat of the music as he approached the chair where Law sat.

Law’s eyes widened in surprise. If they weren’t playing a serious game of life and death, Ian would have laughed at that horrified, worried expression. Law’s gaze flew to Ian’s, and he did his best to reassure the man and keep him quiet all in one look. Just a few words could ruin them both, and they’d both wind up dead and buried out in the New Mexico desert.

You’re a very big man, Mr. Wyatt, Ian demurred as he danced and not so gently applied pressure to Law’s shoulder so he’d stay seated.

Law’s hard muscles flexed and tensed under Ian’s palm. He really was huge. He stood several inches above six feet tall and was pure muscle. Next to him, Ian felt positively tiny when he wasn’t even close to being small. From Law’s glazed expression, it looked like he didn’t mind Ian’s smaller stature. Law eyed Ian’s bared and oiled muscles as he gyrated to the music. Interesting. He’d never realized Law might be gay before.

Ian’s cock heated with the idea and the blood began to surge to the area.

Ian didn’t think the big former FBI agent had ever noticed him around Snowcroft, but from the heat in Law’s gaze, he was sure as hell noticing Ian now.

Ian didn’t know his history. Hell, the only reason he knew the man used to be FBI was because of Ian’s job working law enforcement through the Forestry Service. They kept track of other agents within their area.

That still didn’t explain what Law was doing here now. Not that they could discuss his reasons here.

Ian trailed his hand around Law’s thick neck as he danced around the chair. Law visibly flinched at the touch, but from the increased breathing and dilated pupils, Law seemed to be enjoying the show.

Ian straddled Law’s strong thighs without actually touching, although the heat from his balls almost touching that huge erection was so very tempting. What would it feel like to drop down more? To feel that hardness against the backside of his balls and dick?

Ian took a deep breath, and his lungs filled with pine trees and snow. Those scents of home emanated from Law.

Ian itched to touch, to bury his face in that thick, dark-red scruff, but instead, he continued to mock the rhythm of riding Law while he leaned forward to blow a breath across the side of Law’s neck. Law’s heartbeat pulsed right under the skin like a runaway rabbit...so tempting to lick. Too bad he couldn’t take a taste of the big, bad former agent.

He whispered into Law’s ear, The room is bugged and there are cameras watching everything.

Law stiffened but gave the slightest of nods. Come to my hotel room tonight, he whispered. We need to talk. I’m at the Windsett, room 364.

Ian trailed his fingertip down the front of Law’s shirt, playing teasingly with the buttons. Law sat still as a statue, barely breathing now. The supposed rule in the room was only the dancer was allowed to touch, but the client wasn’t...at least not until they paid for the honor. Yeah, Wicked Nights wasn’t known for staying on the right side of the law when it came to their go-go dancers, who were actually just glorified rent boys.

So far, Ian had managed to stay away from that aspect of the job, but obviously, his trial period was now over. That single bit of knowledge worked better than anything else to keep his physical reaction to Law under wraps. Knowing he might have to fuck someone took most of his desire out of the equation. Which was a good thing right now. It wasn’t like he could hide a full-blown erection in this outfit, so at least he didn’t have to deal with that embarrassing situation.

But based on the flush that had risen high on Law’s cheeks, he was embarrassed enough about his desire for both of them. Anyone watching on the cameras might wonder at why Law sat stiffly, not trying to manhandle him like any other patron to the club would, so Ian oh-so softly rubbed his balls across Law’s erection.

Law sucked in a harsh breath, and his eyes blew wide as he gazed down where Ian danced a tango just above Law’s hard dick.

Relax, baby, Ian cajoled. Act like you enjoy it.

Tortured eyes flashed up and met his gaze. The pain in Law’s expression messed with his rhythm, and he crawled off Law’s lap to cover the fumble. He couldn’t continue dry humping the guy who looked like he was about to rape him.

Fucking hell. This song felt like it wasn’t ever going to end, but finally the music trailed off. Ian rushed over to the sound system. They both needed to get out of this room before it became any more stiff and uncomfortable...and he wasn’t just talking about the plank in Law’s jeans.

He didn’t want to meet Law’s gaze in the aftermath of this little scene. The room sounded so quiet even with the bass pounding from the club outside the doors. They were both breathing hard. Ian because of his physical exertion. Law because of his...Ian didn’t want to even think about what that was.

Law still sat in the chair. A quick glance at Law’s groin verified he was still turned on, but when Ian glanced at his face, he was surprised to find that Law stared at the floor in a daze.

Ian rushed over to his side. Hey, Law. You okay?

Law shook his head, and a flash of momentary confusion fell over his face as he looked up, but then it fled. He cleared his throat and stood, subtly rearranging his hard dick.

Once again, Ian was overwhelmed by just how big the guy was. Law had a good five to six inches and probably seventy-five to a hundred pounds of pure muscle over him. He would be intimidated if he couldn’t see just how rattled Law had been by that lap dance.

Ian gently touched Law’s shoulder. The man flinched, so Ian quickly withdrew his hand. Are you okay?

Yeah. Of course. Law cleared his throat again and reached into his back pocket, removing a twenty from his wallet and tucking it into the side of his jock. Heat flared at the point of contact under Ian’s skin.

Law’s pupils dilated more. You’re...ahem...you’re very talented. Thank you. He fled the room.

Ian touched the skin where Law’s fingers had just been, surprised to find his skin still felt normal despite the firestorm inside Ian’s belly. Fuck, trying to find his friend, Nicholas, had just become so much complicated.

Nicholas, a dancer for Wicked Nights, had disappeared five weeks ago. The odds of him still being alive were slim, but as long as there was the slightest hope, Ian wouldn’t give up this quest. He had to get back to his job here so no one became suspicious. The notorious night club was his only lead left.

He exited the lap dance room and slammed into the chest of one of the rotating big, beefy bouncers. This guy would have dwarfed Law, though most of his bulk was fat unlike Law’s muscle packed upon muscle. Mr. Jones would like for you to meet with him in his office.

Ian nodded. Sure.

The man threw an arm, indicating that Ian needed to go first. He suppressed a growl of irritation. With his ass hanging out, he didn’t appreciate the gorillas following him just so they could ogle it.

Ramirez Jones’ office was at the farthest point away from the club, right by the back door. When they arrived, Mr. Jones wasn’t there.

He’ll be with you shortly, The gorilla bit out and then pulled the door shut behind him.

Shortly? Did that leave him time for any digging?  It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He’d been trying to sneak into the office for days.

He shot around behind the desk and quickly began shuffling through the drawers, but they were virtually empty. The only thing Ian learned from his quick search was that Ramirez Jones had a hard-on for Butterfinger candy bars.

He reached for the mouse and woke the computer. It was locked. Of course it was. He lacked hacking skills, so he didn’t have a chance to break into that.

Now what? He glanced around the small space to the built-in bookcase behind the desk. The top half was bookshelves, the bottom half were cabinets with doors. Ramirez Jones didn’t strike him as much of a reader, so it wasn’t too surprising to see the bookshelves basically empty except a few bartending books and some interesting photography books of the naked men variety. Ian raised an eyebrow at that. Mr. Jones had never seemed interested in what happened on the stage.

The sound of a door closing echoed down the hall. He didn’t have much time. He dove to crouch in front of the cabinet doors. Again, not much of interest inside...extra cash register tape, old ledgers, etcetera. But in the second to last cabinet he hit pay dirt...the safe.

The heavy clomp of boots echoed down the hall. Ian quickly rose, shutting the cabinet door. He scrambled around to sprawl in the chair in front of the desk like he’d been taking a short nap.

He straightened when the door opened and rubbed his face to reinforce the nap story.

Mr. Jones raised an eyebrow. Tired, John?

Yes, sir. Sorry. I’m still adjusting to the late nights.

Understandable. Hopefully, it will become easier the longer you work here. Mr. Jones gave him a tight, disingenuous smile. Congratulations. Mr. Wyatt was very happy with your performance. He said he’ll be back for more. That’s good. We like repeat customers, especially if you can get him to level up on his purchases.

Level up. Nice talk for convincing Law to buy Ian for blowjobs or sex.

Is that going to be a problem for you? Mr. Jones hard glare radiated the threat of pain if it was a problem.

No, sir. That’s fine. As if he could say no. He’d been able to put them off so far by acting nervous about doing something illegal, but they both knew he’d been here long enough now to know this was a requirement. If he said no, or even worse decided to turn the club in to the police, bad things would happen.

Good, good. Mr. Jones’ expression morphed into a wide, friendly smile that made Ian feel more like prey that had just made his first fatal move toward becoming dinner. We have a few discriminating customers that we like to keep happy. Part of your job here is maintaining that high level of customer satisfaction. Understood?

Ian nodded, not sure he could spit out another respectful Yes, sir.

That was good enough for the club owner. Mr. Jones gave Ian another wide smile. I think you’re going to do well here, John. It’s pretty slow tonight, and I can see you’re tired. You’re free to take the rest of the night off.

Thank you, sir.

We’ll see you tomorrow. Mr. Jones focused on his computer, so Ian assumed he was dismissed. He stood and strode out of the room and down the hall.

When Ian entered the dancers’ dressing room, Matthew was the only guy there, practicing his twerking skills. He pushed the curly blond hair out of his eyes and glanced up at Ian worriedly. Did everything go okay?

Ian hadn’t been quiet about not wanting to perform in the backrooms.

Matthew was a good guy but a bit flighty. He liked dancing and sex and figured this was his dream job. Ian just hoped nothing happened to dash his happy feelings about what he did. Way too many rent boys thought their setup was a perfect way to get lots of hot sex but instead found themselves physically and mentally broken within months.

I’m good. Had my first lap dance. Mr. Jones seemed pleased, so he gave me the rest of the night off.

Nice. You’re no longer a back room virgin. Matthew threw