Page 16 of A Quick Buck

“Wow.” Medina laughed. “Pathetic.”

“What I’m interested in is a detailed timeline of the night Jason Carbone was killed,” Alistair said sternly.

“We’d just finished our phone call—”

“Not from you.” Alistair turned to Noah. “From you.”

“Me?” Noah glared. “Oh, I’m allowed to fuckin’ talk now?”

“I’ve been allowing you to thoroughly cuss out Mr. Medina, haven’t I?” Alistair picked up a glass of wine from the side table and took a small sip. “I’m very interested in what you have to say.”

“Okay. What do you wanna know?”

Alistair beckoned Noah over.

Noah jerked away from Junior, then dusted himself off and straightened out his shirt. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, and it made him shiver. The welts on his ass throbbed faintly, and he swore they burned hotter when he stood before Alistair.

“Kneel.” Alistair grabbed Noah’s hip like he’d done earlier. “Be a good boy and tell me what happened Tuesday night.”

Oh, those words again.

Good boy.

“Okay.” Noah dropped down to one knee, and he flinched when Alistair put his hand on his shoulder. He tried to move away, but then Alistair snatched a cruel handful of his hair. “Hey!”

“I expect absolute honesty, do you understand?” Alistair warned.

“Yeah. I got it.” Noah swallowed thickly. His heart was pounding like a drum in his ears, and he hated how much he liked Alistair roughing him up. He caught himself pulling away from the firm hold on his hair just to feel the burn in his scalp.

“Easy now,” Alistair soothed. “Now. Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

“Woke up Tuesday afternoon.” Noah shivered. “Uncle Patrick was already gone for his trip to Strassen Springs. We had a fight that morning, and I… look, okay, that part doesn’t matter.” He licked his lips. “Right. I got fucked up, slept all day, woke up, and then drove out to Rawhide. That’s where I met douchebag Not-Brad over there.”

“What time?”

“Uh. I had a few drinks, danced a bit. He saw me, bought me some shots to get my attention. So, I went over to say hi…”

Medina had been attractive, well-dressed, and Noah had liked his smile and his sharp haircut. He had told Noah he thought he was the most beautiful guy he’d ever seen and asked if he was a model.

After that, it took an embarrassingly low number of shots for Noah to throw himself at him.

They’d made out right there at the bar, and Noah had suggested they leave before they’d even finished the last round of drinks they’d ordered.

“I guess me and him started talking about nine o’clock,” Noah mumbled. “Maybe ten. We hung out for a bit, and then we decided to jet.”

Alistair glanced to Medina and back to Noah. “And when did you abscond with Mr. Medina?”

“When did I what?”

“When did you leave?”

“Last call hadn’t happened, so… between midnight and one probably.”

“Are you very sure?”

“Yeah.”

Alistair pulled Noah’s hair.