Page 57 of Hurt

And Grant could flay the skin off a human. He could make them scream for days on end. Make them beg for death until there was nothing but their own agony echoing in their ears and the taste of blood on their tongue. He would remind them that he was far from a paper pusher and that he had come to his position by stepping on the skulls of his enemies. His welcome carpet was red from their blood, and his crown wasn’t given to him, but taken.

Molly opened a door and came in carrying a heavy-looking medical bag. She took one look at Grant and then at the door to the back Kurt had just disappeared through. The woman flinched when Grant’s eyes met hers.

Grant’s hand snaked out when she tried to walk past. He had her by the neck, throwing her up against the bar before she could cry out. “Who is responsible?”

The woman slapped him, but he didn’t let go. “Get your hands off me.”

“Tell me who.”

“I don’t know,” she spat. “It happens sometimes. He won’t tell me.”

He gauged her truthfulness. She was angry, but he sensed it wasn’t just at his actions. Releasing her, she shoved him back a step and smoothed out her shirt.

“Don’t you think if I knew, I would have them rotting in a ditch? You’re not the only one who cares about him.”

Molly stomped off to treat Kurt. Grant had to resist the urge to go after her. He didn’t think Kurt wanted him there, but he also didn’t think he could trust himself. His fury demanded that he press Kurt for information. The man was too fragile right now. There was a delicate tendril of trust between them, enough that Kurt could talk to him. But if he pushed, it would shatter, and he would never get it back.

It took every ounce of his resolve to reign it in.

His mind shifted to what Elijah said the other night. The file they had stolen from the Vega Cabal had the Becketts’ previous address on it. Jamie had done some research into the house. There was nothing salacious to be found. After the death of Kurt’s parents, the bank foreclosed on the home, kicking Kurt, Willow, and Noah out. That was right around the time Kurt had dropped out of school and disappeared.

Why did the Vegas have it? And what did it have to do with Congressman Thomas?

Jamie moved behind the bar, picking up a rag and crouching so he could clean the blood up. He was used to cleaning up the mess. Grant watched him blankly. He felt like he couldn’t process any information. Colors were too bright. His emotions were at war.

Part of him screamed to burst into that room and hold Kurt. Even kicking and screaming, wrap him in his arms until he was too tired to fight. He could protect him then. Keep him safe from whatever was haunting him.

But another more logical part of him knew he couldn’t.

Grant was in agony.

The front door of the bar opened, and Noah came in carrying a heavy-looking brown paper bag. Jamie tossed the rag into the sink and smirked.

“Well, if it isn’t little miss cutie patootie.”

Noah reached into the bag and threw a lime at Jamie. It hit him square in the chest.

Elijah walked in behind him, carrying two bags.

“My titties!” Jamie whined, rubbing the spot the lime had hit. It had rolled by his feet, and he picked it up. He got ready to throw it back at Noah when he saw the look on Elijah’s face.

“He started it,” he mumbled, tossing the lime up and catching it.

Noah wasn’t paying attention to Jamie anymore. He had seen the bloody rag behind the bar. Looking up at Grant, he raised an eyebrow.

“Kurt?”

Grant nodded. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from clenching so hard.

Noah sighed and looked at the side door. He set the bag down on the bar and looked like he wanted to go in.

Elijah watched the exchange before catching his partner's attention. “Help me with the groceries.”

Jamie didn’t protest, following Elijah out into the parking lot.

That left Grant alone with Noah. He knew the boy was young, and this was their first meeting, but there was something in the way he stared at the door that made him suspicious.

He knows something.