Page 19 of Edge of Control

“Really?”

“That’s where I was raised. Mostly. Parents were in the military, so we moved a lot.”

That part wasn’t a lie. I was born in New York to a loving mother and a deadbeat father. One was an alcoholic, and the other turned into one. My mother worked as a housekeeper, and my father was in the navy. Neither of them knew how to manage money; neither had a savings, and neither of them expected to be taking care of one child, much less two. That always shocked me about straight people. They couldn’t comprehend there were consequences to their actions, mainly that a condomless fuck led to about eighteen years of someone draining your bank account dry.

Later, I came to find out it wasn’t that simple. There were darker monsters at play. My father wasn’t just a drunk—he was a twisted man. He got off on abuse, and he drove my mother to the brink. The day she died was the day my father died, even though he still likely walked the Earth.

I didn’t give a single fuck. He was dead to me. And if I ever found out where he actually was, that he was still alive, then I’d make sure his body was as cold and lifeless as my mother and my sister.

“Where are you from?” I asked, wanting to steer this away from my past. No one needed to know about that. Especially not Jace.

“Jersey,” Jace said. “Hoboken. My mom moved from Puerto Rico when she was fifteen and met my dad out there. My dad was a cop. He’s what got me started at being an officer, but, well, there was a bad call. I was supposed to take it, actually. I couldn’t. Got caught up with something else, so my father went. It was an ambush. He was basically executed.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Fathers are scum anyway. Better off.

“I left the force after that. Tried to find a different way to make money but landed at Stonewall a couple months ago.”

“And your mom? She still in Hoboken?”

“She is. I think, at least. We don’t talk. I couldn’t stay in Jersey, either. Had to leave. Came here and haven’t really looked back.”

“Fair enough. It’s easy to outrun your ghosts in this city.”

“It definitely is.”

I swirled my coffee cup and finished the last of it. I glanced at my watch. It was pushing past twelve. I didn’t have anywhere to go, that meeting I mentioned earlier being a lie, but I felt as though my time here was up. Thelonger I sat across from Jace, the more I wanted to unravel. That was the complete opposite reason why I followed him here in the first place.

At least, I thought it was.

“I’ve got to head back to the office and prep for later.” I shot a quick glance down at my crotch. The precum stain had mostly dried up. “It was good seeing you again.”

“Hopefully, this won’t be the last time,” Jace said. He pulled out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

I could have said no. I could have made an excuse about not giving out information to strangers. Could have said a multitude of different things that kept me safe, kept me at arm’s length away from the man currently searching for me.

“Sure,” I said, grabbing his phone from his hand. A last-minute thought made me consider inputting the wrong number. Switching one single digit. Just enough to never allow him to contact me again.

I handed him back the phone after sending myself a text.

“There,” I said. “Maybe now we won’t leave these meetings to chance.”

“Perfect,” he replied. “See ya around, Theo.”

I gave him a smile and left. As I exited the coffee shop, my burner phone dinged in my left pocket. I waited until I was around the corner from the coffee shop and took it out.

A single message flashed across the cracked screen.

“Meet me tonight. Be ready to get fucked.”

Chapter 8

Theo Glass

The blood waswhat made me nervous.

There was always so much of it. So difficult to control. Slick. Red. Soaked through sheets, through the floor. The jet of it surprised me. The absolute pressure that it flew from the victim’s neck.

---