Page 1 of The Silencer

1

TATUM

Iprobably shouldn’t have come to this bar alone, but I wasn’t thinking with my brain. No, I was thinking with my needy, hungry dick. And I never want to victim blame, but I am definitely blaming myself for being so fucking stupid. And I blame Brayden too. If my ex wasn’t such a mindfuck, maybe I wouldn’t have gone off the deep end and decided on a random hookup at this sketchy bar on the outskirts of town.

I force my gaze forward and look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My hair, which I dyed silver last week, is ruined, my perfectly coifed masterpiece sitting limply on my head. The skin around my right eye is turning black and blue, and the corner of my lip is cut, a few drops of blood staining my orange crop top. A sharp pain has started to throb in my skull, and I wonder if I’ve got a concussion. They got me in the ribs too, and it hurts to inhale.

Damn bigots.

Honestly, why do people care so much about who I fuck?

Assholes.

“You’re so hot, but so very stupid. So fucking stupid,” I say to myself, sniffling and wiping at my eyes. Honestly, it hurts to cry, so I swallow it back. I can do that later.

You know, if I’m still alive.

“What were you thinking coming here like this?” I murmur to myself. I stare at my sallow eyes in the mirror and swipe at the one not beat to hell.

Hm, maybe I’m not so hot after all. I look like a trampled pumpkin.

Fuck. I wasn’t thinking when I set foot in this seedy bar. I came here on a whim, planning to meet up with someone I’d met online for a drink, just a casual hookup. I didn’t realize that I’d offend the people in this dingy establishment just by existing. Being gay in their vicinity isn’t something they tolerate, apparently. Flirting with the bartender was a terrible mistake.

Never again.

Never.

I sniffle and then hear a violent banging on the bathroom door. I’d locked it, wanting to hide until the danger passed. I should have tried to escape out the front, but two men were blocking the entrance, a feral gleam in their eyes. It seems they don’t want to let me go.

I better not leave this bar in a body bag. I don’t plan on dying today. Not for a long time, actually. I’m only twenty-one. I have a lot to live for, a whole hell of a lot.

Fumbling with my phone, I almost call my best friend, Ben, but then decide against it. I know he’d be here in a second, but I don’t want to bother him. What if these men hurt him too? What if I put my best friend in danger? I can’t do that. And knowing his boyfriends, Cash and Ford, if Ben ended up hurt, they’d murder me themselves.

My shaking fingers scroll up and come to Angel’s name. I don’t expect him to come to my aid. He’s far too timid and sweet, but his father…

My mind conjures up images of notorious mobster, Anthony Costello, in his perfectly pressed suit, tattoos peeking out from the sleeves and collar, his styled hair always so perfectly combed, his dark eyes watching everything so intently.

Yeah, Angel’s father would be a good option. Anthony is dangerous, a ferocity locked down so tight that I know he has evil inside of him just waiting to come to the surface.

He doesn’t like me or my incessant flirting, but he’d help me if Angel asked him to.

He’d help me for the sake of his son.

Even if I bug the shit out of him.

Hesitating only a moment, I hit the call button just as the banging on the door intensifies. My heart races, and I feel it pounding in my throat and skull. It hurts, it fucking stings, so I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose.

I can do this. I will survive this.

The phone rings only twice before Angel picks up.

“Hi, Tatum!” Angel says sweetly, and just the sound of his voice makes my eyes burn.

“Hi,” I reply, my voice cracking. “I was…um, Angel, can you get your dad on the phone? It’s a bit of an emergency.”

I know he can hear the shouting in the background, the pounding on the flimsy wooden door. It’s cracking slowly but surely. I’m not exaggerating when I say I need help.

“Tatum, are you okay?” he asks. I can hear him panting slightly as he runs.

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