Page 27 of Rescued

“Then why does it feel like he’s winning?” Gabe snaps, whirling to face me. His hands are trembling, his jaw tight. “He gets to walk around this town, hiding behind his badge, spreading his poison—and what do we do? Stand here and take it?”

I reach out instinctively, gripping his arm, but he shakes me off. The rejection stings, but I can’t blame him. I’ve felt this same frustration clawing at me for years, the helpless rage of knowing someone like Kaufman thrives while people like Gabe—and Todd, and me—pay the price.

“We don’t just take it,” I say, though my voice feels hollow even to my own ears. “We fight back.”

“How?” His laugh is bitter, broken. “How do we fight someone who has the law on his side? Who can do whatever the hell he wants, and no one stops him?”

For a moment, I don’t have an answer. What can I say to him that isn’t just empty words? That it’ll get better? That people like Kaufman always get what’s coming to them? I’ve lived long enough to know that isn’t always true. Sometimes, the world is cruel. Sometimes, the bad guys win.

But I can’t tell Gabe that. Not now. Not when the fire in his eyes is all that’s keeping him from collapsing under the weight of it all.

“We fight,” I say finally, stepping closer. My voice is steel now, sharper than the claws I feel itching just under my skin. “We fight by being exactly who we are. By not letting him dictate how we live. By standing together, no matter what he throws at us. That’s how we win.”

Gabe’s gaze locks with mine, the anger in his eyes tempered now by something else—something more fragile, like hope. He swallows hard, his throat working, as though he’s trying to hold back words he can’t quite say.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then, slowly, his arms wrap around me, his grip firm, grounding. The anger in the air doesn’t dissipate—it’s still there, burning low, waiting—but it shifts. It’s not helpless anymore. It’s something we can use.

When he finally steps back, his eyes meet mine, and there’s a new resolve in them. “I believe you,” he says quietly. “But if he comes after us again—after anyone we care about—I won’t hold back.”

“Neither will I,” I promise, the truth of it settling deep in my chest.

Gabe

Isit at my computer, staring at the screen, trying to concentrate on a customer’s website that desperately needs updating. The project should be simple enough—just a basic refresh—but my brain refuses to cooperate.

It’s been a stressful couple of days. Between trying not to completely give in to my body’s incessant demands for Mika and attempting to untangle the mess in my head, I’m exhausted. Sleep has become a cruel joke. Every time I lie down, all I do is toss and turn, arguing with myself about whether I should just march into the guest bedroom and beg Mika to fuck my brains out.

And honestly? I’m afraid I might actually beg.

The man’s restraint is maddening. Mika’s been holding back, keeping our sexual encounters limited to slow, careful hand jobs, saying he doesn’t want me to feel rushed. It’s sweet, considerate, kind—all those good things I should be grateful for.

Butit’s alsonot enough.

I bite my tongue to keep from muttering as I refocus on the task at hand. Or try to, anyway.

Today, shaping upRick’s Rockin’ Rodsis proving to be impossible. For one, the name has absolutely nothing to do with hot rods, and for another, my mind keeps wandering to Mika. Our conversation about holding off on questions circles in my head.

I thought about pressing him for answers, but the look on his face when I almost did stopped me cold. There was something raw there, a pain I couldn’t stomach. My curiosity isn’t worth that—not when whatever’s drawing us together clearly needs time.

Time for Mika to trust me. To believe I won’t hurt him the way someone else obviously has before.

I glance over my shoulder at the couch, where Mika is napping. He looks peaceful for once, the tension that’s always in his shoulders finally eased.

God, it’s nice having someone here.

I didn’t realize how tired I was of being alone until now. And it doesn’t hurt that the someone happens to be sexy as hell. Just looking at him makes my cock twitch.

“Down, boy,” I mutter, shifting in my seat to relieve some of the pressure building in my jeans.Now’s not the time to play. After I finish this website, though…

Sighing, I try to steer my thoughts back to Rick’s ridiculous site. My erection is relentless, pressing against the seam of my jeans like it’s determined to break free.

A soft chuckle from behind me breaks my focus.

Mika’s awake.

Heleans over my shoulder, peering at the screen, and his proximity sets my skin on fire. I swear I can feel the heat of his body without him even touching me.

Of course, he notices my problem.

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