Page 31 of Duke of Ruin

“It’s not safe here,” Noah says, and I launch myself from the stool until I’m only inches from his face. His eyes are dark and pained. I can smell the tears on his cheeks, but he doesn’t move.

“Get. Out,” I say slowly, shoving every ounce of anger and menace into my voice as possible. I need him to go before I do something stupid…like forgive him.

“Okay,” he says, dropping his gaze. Something in me cracks, but I stand firm. He drops something onto the counter but I ignore it, waiting for him to walk out the door. He pauses once he turns the handle, but I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. He looks back at me one last time before he pushes through the door and closes it behind him.

I collapse onto the barstool once again and finally look at what he dropped on the counter. It’s a hotel keycard for the motel a few blocks away with a room number written on it. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but there’s no way I’m going to allow him to lead me into another trap.

I’m not that fucking stupid, am I?

11

NOAH

Istumble down the stairs from “our” apartment, fighting the whole way to put one foot in front of the other. I want more than anything to run back to the apartment and grovel until Eli forgives me, but I know that won’t do any good. He probably won’t ever forgive me, and he has every right to hate me. I left the room key and let him know the apartment isn’t safe, so maybe he’ll change his mind. I can hope. I shouldn’t, but I can.

I keep my eyes peeled as I cross back through the handful of blocks to the seedy motel where I stayed last night. I probably look like absolute hell. Even though I showered this morning, my head is throbbing and I can still taste the whiskey from the whole goddamn bottle I finished by myself. My mind is swimming as I let myself back into the room. I know I can’t stay here for long, since the Carbones and the police are probably both searching for me, ready to eliminate me as a threat.

I’ll run for now and try to stay alive, but once I get back to my family I’ll have nothing but time to figure out how to bring all of them down. I just have to figure out how to do that without hurting Eli. I know he hates me now, but I still can’t bring myself to accept him as nothing more than collateral damage. I can’t hurt him. I won’t. I need to know that he’ll be safe, and if that means taking out the head of the fucking Carbone family then I’ll do that. If something happens to Eli…may God have mercy on them, because I won’t. That’s as far as I can think about that.

Aside from the local news, I haven’t been able to find out much about the fallout from Eli’s transaction going sideways, just that they found Rossi’s body riddled with bullets and there weren’t any arrests made. Apparently, everyone involved either escaped or chose death…except Eli. I managed to save him, though it seems like that may have made his situation with his family much worse instead of better. I was a pawn, Rossi was a pawn, Eli was a pawn. We were all just pieces being moved by the real players, the leaders of law enforcement and mafia families.

I sit down on the bed and stare at the door. I hope more and more with each passing second that Eli will walk through it. I need to leave. My bag is already packed and ready to go, and though I’ve paid the room up for the next two nights, I know that the powers-that-be are probably closing in. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to walk out the door. I remind myself that Eli made his choice. He told me to get out, and he’s not stupid enough to still be at that apartment, so going back there would be a stupid risk for no reward.

I grab my bag and walk to the door. I stand there with my hand on the handle, but I just can’t go through with it. I can’t leave without Eli. I shake my head and try to convince myself that he’s not coming, but I can’t. What we had was real, what we felt for each other was real, and Elihasto know that. Nothing else matters, but Elihasto know that I meant it when I said I loved him. I still love him, and nothing will stop me from loving him, even if he won’t let me near him. I huff and go back to the bed. I sling my bag down onto the floor and perch on the edge of it, watching the door. The room is old and smells musty, but it doesn’t matter.

I flop back onto the mattress. I can’t do it. I can’t run. Eli will come back for me; I just need to give him more time. He won’t let me explain everything to him, and I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust my word either, but he has to feel it. If I give him time, he’ll realize that I could never hurt him. If that means sitting in this busted motel until the bad guys find me, then so be it.

I finally leave the room, but instead of heading for the bus stop I walk up to the front desk, where a bored woman points me in the direction of a store where I can grab a charger for my burner phone. Thankfully Rossi and the rest of the PD decided to keep most of the transactions for my undercover operation cash, or I’d be in a much worse position. As it stands, I have enough to get me across the country if I need to. I can go to the cabin, wait for a while, and maybe come back for Eli once all this blows over.

I shake my head. That’s the stupidest thought I’ve had so far. I get to the store and purchase a charger, then go back to the room and plug the phone into the wall. Waiting for it to charge enough to turn on is excruciating, but not so much as the blow that comes when I have no messages. I start flipping through my contacts. I know Eli’s in trouble, and Gianni Carbone isn’t known for being forgiving.

My fingers hover over one name—someone I went to school with, someone I haven’t spoken to in over two years, but I know she’ll answer, and she could help. But I hesitate. I don’t want to make a decision like this without Eli. It was my making decisions without opening up to him that put me in this position in the first place. I need to wait. Stretching my legs, I pace the room. I’m going to lose my mind in here. I can’t just sit around and do nothing. Fuck it.

I pick up the phone again and make the call. The phone goes to voicemail, but I leave a message.

“Hey, Stacey, it’s Sorrento. I’m in a bit of a jam and I could use your help. Please call me back when you get this.”

I end the call. That was probably stupid, but she’s the only person I can think of who’ll be able to help me fix this. I just hope she understands. I lie back on the bed again and close my eyes. My head is throbbing and my stomach is still roiling with a hangover, but I ignore my discomfort. I just need to know Eli is safe. I try to call him, but his phone is turned off. That’s probably a good thing. I get up and walk to the door again. The best thing I could do for myself is to walk the fuck out of here and not look back, but I still can’t. I go back to the bed and force myself to be still. Exhaustion finally takes over, and I fall asleep.

* * *

It’s dark when I wake to the sound of someone opening the motel door. I roll silently out of bed and grab my 9mm from beneath my pillow. I duck beneath the window and press myself against the wall, keeping the weapon low. The intruder slowly closes the door behind them and slinks into the room. The slight glow of the outside light seeping through the crack in the curtains catches on the planes of the intruder’s face, and I know I must be dreaming.

“Eli?” I whisper into the darkness. He turns toward my voice, and I switch the lamp on. His brilliant green eyes are red-rimmed and shining, but he’s here. He’s safe and he’s in the room with me.

“Noah,” he whispers back.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” I whisper, more to myself than him.

“Maybe,” Eli answers anyway. “I’m not sure I can tell anymore.”

“Are you alright?” I ask as I cross the room until I’m standing directly in front of him. He flinches away from me and my heart shatters, but he doesn’t pull away.

“No,” he says, and his voice catches. “No, I’m not fucking alright, Noah.” Tears start streaming down his face, and I reach out to touch his cheek.

“Eli,” I say again, and he leans into my touch. My heart starts pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to escape my chest. He’s here and he’s real. I can’t breathe.

“Please, Noah,” he says, his breath hitching. “Please tell me it’s real. Please tell me you’re real.”

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