Page 5
FIVE
Rafael
“Goddamn it, Rafael.”
I squint at Noah. “Are you going to untie me?”
Noah’s got a strong stomach, but I’m sure I look disgusting. I feel disgusting. There’s cum all over my torso and throat. I can feel it between my ass cheeks too.
“I really have to pee,” I tell him.
Noah lets out a longsuffering sigh and starts working on the belt securing my wrists to the arm of my couch.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t come to check on you?”
“I would’ve gotten out of it eventually. Once I woke up all the way.”
Another longsuffering sigh.
Once I’m free, Noah helps me sit up. My shoulders prickle with returning blood. Cum leaks out of my sore ass. I put my face in my hands and try to summon the energy to get up.
Noah gives me about thirty seconds, then he says, “Come on. Up.”
He helps get to my feet. He walks me down the hallway and through my bedroom to the bathroom.
“Piss, shower, brush your teeth, then come back to the kitchen. Unless you need help?”
“No.”
“You’re not going to fall?”
Annoyed, I go into the bathroom and shut the door.
I take a long time, hoping Noah will be gone by the time I emerge. No such luck. When I come back to the living room/ kitchen area, clean and wearing sweats and a t-shirt, he’s got a glass of water and a bowl of granola waiting for me.
I glance at the living room. He cleaned my couch. Ugh. I wish he wouldn’t do that.
He’s scrolling through shit on his phone, probably checking the news for signs of my activity last night. He doesn’t look up. He knows that if he bothers me right now, I’ll get shitty and stubborn, and what he wants is for me to eat.
I don’t want to eat. I just want to go to bed.
I don’t, however, because I feel bad. Noah deserves better. Sometimes, I wish he’d stop caring about me. Other times, I’m terrified of that possibility.
But it’s not a possibility. Noah will never, ever abandon me.
Throat tight, ass sore, I sit on the stool beside him. I drink the water. I try to eat.
When I push the bowl away, Noah stows his phone. He says, “We’re going to work backwards. Who tied you up?”
“Dominic Capelli.”
Noah freezes. “Tell me you’re not serious. Jesus, you are serious. What the fuck, Rafael.”
I shrug. “You wanted to know.”
Noah studies me. I know what he’s trying to figure out, so I say, “I wanted it.”
“But you were high.”
“So?”
Noah shakes his head and mutters under his breath. Then he studies me again. “He’s dangerous, Rafael.”
A little light spears in through the gray fog of my mind. A smile tugs at my lips. “I know.”
“Jesus,” he mutters.
“He’s one of us, Noah.”
Noah sighs as the weight of the world settles on his shoulders. He’s silent for a long time then he says, “Yeah. I know.”
Noah threw away his career and his life to save a handful of boys, even though there were a lot of them that slipped through the cracks. But there would never have been any way to save Dominic. His father had already taken him back from the Island before Noah arrived.
“You shot his father,” Noah reminds me.
“Yep.”
“So why is he fucking you?”
“I don’t know. But I like it.”
“Do you even remember it?”
“Some of it.”
Noah scrubs at his forehead. “I’m pulling teeth here. Can you just tell me what happened?”
I try to put everything into sequence, but it’s fuzzy and I’m tired and I don’t really want to tell him about Dominic because I haven’t had a chance to think about it on my own.
Noah, however, fills in the blanks in my story pretty well.
“Goddamn it, Rafael.”
I sigh. “Can’t you go bother Dante or something?”
“Dante is the most stable he’s been in years.”
Oh, whatever.
“And he wouldn’t get high and go murder someone in a public place.”
Of course not. Perfect Dante. So controlled.
Noah gets up from his stool. “I’m going to go check the location. If it’s possible, I’ll get the body. If not, we’ll have to deal with the fallout. I may have to get you out of here.”
My heart skips. That’s something Noah is always prepared for. With the shit he and I and Dante do, he has to be. But I don’t want that. I like my life here.
Most of the time.
I put my head on the counter as everything comes crashing down on me and, finally, the regret hits.
Noah isn’t an affectionate person, so he doesn’t touch me, but he does say, “Go to bed. I’ll handle it.”
I’ll handle it. That’s basically his love language.
I nod against the counter. Noah leaves.
I don’t go to bed. I don’t move at all. I’m still there forty minutes later when my phone rings on the counter. Noah must have put it there for me.
Dread pooling in my stomach, still slumping on the counter, I accept the call. “Well?”
Noah says, “All clean.”
I sit up. “What?”
“Completely clean. Professional.”
“But …”
At first, I’m confused. Then my lips stretch into a smile, and all the weight lifts right off me. I laugh.
Fuck me. I might be in love.