Page 18 of Fractured Fear

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“On the phone earlier, you were weird.”

“Uh. Okay.” I don’t appreciate the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Don’t deny it.” I point my finger at his face.

Zane shakes his head at me. “I didn’t deny anything.”

“So you admit it?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t make me stab you.”

“Oh my God. You’ve gone crazy.”

“Call melocoone more time,” he remains silent. Smart move. “I’ll get the truth out of you eventually.”

“There’s no truth to be told. Drop it.” He turns his attention from me and goes back to eating his pizza, but I’m not giving up.

Choosing my next moves carefully, I gracefully get up to stand behind him and nip at his neck. I soothe the sting with a light lick and whisper, “I know how to get you to talk.”

Zane’s body tenses with anticipation. I know what he likes, and he knows what I like. Occasionally we use that to our advantage. All in good fun.

We’ve been together for years and although we've never defined what we are, I know we're more than fuck buddies, but not in a relationship. I guess some might call it an open relationship.

When I met Z he was struggling with the shit his foster parents put him through and it pissed me off. They got what they had coming to them in the end, but it didn’t erase Zane’s scars. Emotional or physical. So, when he came to me and admitted he wanted to experiment, I volunteered as tribute faster than a bullet. He knew I was openly bisexual and knew my family accepted me. I think he was looking for some of that same acceptance, so I gave it. Since then, he’s been with other people. Sometimes we’re with the same man at the same time, sometimes the same woman, but we never bring people here to our home. We don’t share a room or anything, but this is our space. We all need it to stay like that, so no one night stands in the house.

Gliding my hands down his chest, I reach for the bulge tenting his pants. I bite and suck on his ear eliciting a low moan from his throat.

Before I can wrap my hand around his covered cock, Zane jumps from his stool.

“Let’s watch Julius and Jalen kick some ass.” Then he scurries to the couch and flips on the TV.

Another deflection. All the more intriguing.

CHAPTER 7

RIO

Later that night after Zane and I had both gone to bed, I hear the garage door open. My room is on the second floor, but my hearing has always been sharp. When you have five younger sisters, you need that superhuman ability.

I peek out my window that faces the front and see Zane’s car pull out with the lights off and drive away.

Was that his attempt at stealth? Pathetic. He knows better than to think I didn’t just see him. And he knows better than to go out on a hunt alone, so this better be something else.

I jump out of bed and rush down the stairs. I’m only in sweats, but I don’t care. I slide my feet into my tennis shoes and jog to the garage. Hopping in Asher’s Camaro, the engine turns over and lets out a nice purr. Ash hates it when I use his car if it’s not necessary. I’m going to consider this an emergency, so I’m sure he won’t mind. Always better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

Z has a head start, but that’s okay. We put trackers in his and Ash’s cars in case of an emergency. I pull the app up on my phone and see that he’s disabled the tracker.

Fuckingpendejo.

Zane may be extraordinarily talented when it comes to technology, but that genius level brain clearly wasn’t smart enough to find the second tracker I put in his car over a month ago.

I follow the dot on my screen until I’m around the corner from his car. I chuckle to myself when I realize where we are. I park Ash’s car a block away and jog the remaining distance. It’s difficult to sneak up on any of us. We’ve trained ourselves to always be aware of our surroundings. You kind of have to be when you have a hobby like ours.

That being said, I’m somehow able to get the drop on him. I open the passenger door to his Honda Civic, and he immediately goes for his Glock. I wrap my hand over his before he can get far and slam it down on the center console.

“You’re getting soft,amigo.”

Nostrils flare and his hands clench, ready for a fight. The thought of some action has my blood pumping.

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