Page 33 of Hold Him Like Gravity

Yeah, Jake was a fuck-up. Yes, he was notorious for getting himself involved in any number of shady crews. Even doing shit like hold-ups.

But… something was off about that robbery.

About how, I don’t know, he was trying to keep my identity a secret? Why would he do that? Jake had never, ever, in our entire lives, tried to protect me.

That was, you know, part of the reason I’d gone no-contact with him, after all.

“Babe, the fuck you doing?” a deep, masculine voice asked, making me jerk and let out a choked gasp as I looked over to find the source of the question.

He was standing maybe a yard away, a tall, fit guy in an expensive-looking suit with dark, slicked back hair, and chocolate-brown eyes. Everything about him oozed power and intimidation, making me worry that I’d somehow stumbled into a more important criminal kingpin’s territory without realizing it.

“Nothing,” I squeaked, my hand slipping into my pocket to close around the pocketknife I’d brought along just in case I got into any sort of trouble.

“Nothing, huh?” he asked, glancing across the street, then back at me, half-hidden in a small alley between a Chinese food restaurant and a bodega. Even with the weather cold, the stink of rotting food in the trash had been making me take small breaths to fight off the inevitable nausea.

Now, though, my heartbeat had tripped into overdrive and my breath was coming fast and shallow.

“Then why the fuck you been hiding in an alley for two nights in a row?” he asked, making my stomach twist. If he’d seen me, what were the chances that the guys I was watching had as well?

My mind went blank as he waited for an answer. And I was pretty sure I could blame his whole tall, dark, and deadly vibe for that.

“Look, if you’re planning something, I’m gonna go and advise you against it,” he said. “This is my area. And while I don’t like having to find ways to punish women for starting shit, I won’t hesitate to do it, either.”

“I’m not… planning anything,” I insisted. I wasn’t. Right?

I mean, I hadn’t really given it much thought past ‘Find Jake.’

What happened when I found him was up in the air. Beating his ass had come to mind a time or two. Though, if he was in some sort of trouble like my gut was saying, if he was with these guys against this will or something, I had no idea what to do about that. Call the police?

The man was still standing there, unconvinced, watching me with expectant eyes.

“I’m looking for my brother,” I admitted. “He’s… been missing for a while.”

To that, I didn’t actually see any softness from the man, just a nod. “Look, the addicts usually shoot up two blocks that way,”he said, nodding his chin down the block. “And the ones who are living on the street? They’re closer down by the church. They get free hot meals there. And on the cold nights coming up, the church will let ‘em sleep inside. Look for him there. Don’t be hanging out around here,” he told me before moving off.

He slowed half a block away, stopping to talk to a few other guys who were equally as well-dressed as he was. I sensed he wasn’t going to go anywhere until he knew I was gone.

I moved out of the alley, ducking my head against the wind that had been whipping all night, and made my way toward the subway steps.

My fingers had gone numb hours before and as I waited on the platform, I pressed them up under my shirt, hissing at the coldness as I rested them against my stomach to warm them up. They burned as life came back to them, and the pain helped to fight back the panic I’d felt at being confronted by some random criminal boss in the street.

I wondered if maybe I should have taken him up on the information he’d provided, gone and checked out the church and the area where the addicts used to get high.

No, drugs had never been Jake’s problem. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t have happened. Every single day, someone became addicted to a substance they’d never touched before.

And I could see how, if Jake had gotten hooked on something, he might have let everything else in his life slip away. Even gotten involved with a new crew for some quick cash to chase that high.

That niggled at me, though, on the ride back to Brooklyn.

Because if he was desperate for a fix, why wouldn’t he go to his old apartment? Take and hock his gaming systems? His old TV? Collectibles? Even hit up the too giving and often gullible Bobby for cash?

It didn’t fit.

And he had no reason to sleep in a church when he still had a room at Bobby’s apartment.

It didn’t fit.

The thing was, neither did anything else.

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