Page 27 of Flame
Chapter Six
“You’re pissed,” Rafe declares. In a stark contrast to his fearsome display near the dumpster, he’s lying flat on his couch, his head propped on an armrest.
He’s stripped his shirt revealing the full extent of his injuries. A makeshift towel bandage staunches most of the bleeding from his arm, but the bruising on his chest worsens by the second. With every inhale, he winces, but somehow manages to sport a guilty frown. “I’m sorry—”
“You used me.” It isn’t until I hear my own voice that I realize just how angry I am. Hurt. Betrayed. Humiliated.
Of course, he used you,a part of me hisses.You made it so easy for him to.
“I did,” he bluntly admits. “And you helped me anyway. I owe ya again, bunny. I mean that.”
One look at him, and I think he’s telling the truth. He looks so tired. Exhausted.
But I stamp out any pity I may feel and cross my arms, shifting my weight in the direction of the door. Where I’d go, I have no idea. Just away. Somewhere far away from all of it.
“You owe me,” I parrot with a scoff. “Good. Well, you can start by telling me the truth. No ‘what do you think it is, bunny?’ stuff. You be honest with me now, or I’m leaving. What the hell was that?”
“That…” He chokes out another sigh. “I believe the technical term is ‘a drug deal,’ but you can be creative about it if you want.”
“A drug deal?” I brace myself against the nearest wall, but it doesn’t feel anywhere near sturdy enough to support me.
“More or less,” he says. His eyes meet mine, devoid of any mocking, and I know deep down, he isn’t lying. “It might be slightly melodramatic to say it was life or death too, but I’m not far off.”
“Who hurt you?” I ask, though I figure a part of me already knows the answer.
“That…” He groans, clutching his side as he starts to sit upright. “Well, I’ve gotta keep some secrets close to the vest, bunny—”
“No!” My hands find my hips, and I’m seconds away from stomping my foot in anger. “No more secrets. You tell me everything now, or I’m leaving. And while we’re at it—” I reach into my bag and withdraw the list of names, brandishing it in his direction. “You tell me about this.”
His expression remains blank, devoid of shock, or alarm. “And where are you going to go?” He doesn’t sound threatening, just curious.
And it’s a darn good question. Where the hell am I going to go with my face bruised to hell and back, no car and no money?
Though, his keys are still in my hand—a fact he only seems to realize as I lift them and consider doing the obvious.
“Anywhere is better than staying with a liar.”
“Fine.” Groaning, he braces himself against the back of the couch. “I fucked up bad. To make up for it, I needed to do a job for Shen, or he’d bring hell down on both of us. Trust me, this was the lesser of two evils. I bought us time. As for the list. I was working my way through the cops that patrol this area trying to find Faith’s ‘DW.’” He cracks a tired grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Funnily enough, there aren’t many officers with a first name that starts with D and last name starting with W. Go fucking figure.”
I can’t hide the way my shoulders slump in relief. He sounds honest—which means he hasn’t zoned in on Branden yet. Or at least, I can’t tell from his pained expression if he has.
“So, what is in the case?” I ask, crossing my arms.
His eyes dart to the object in question, now resting beside the door. In the glow of a hanging lightbulb, it looks more intimidating than ever, containing only God knows what.
“You know,” I say hoarsely, “you bitched at me for lack of detail, but you suck at it.”
“Fine. You want to know the truth?” Some of the cockiness deflates from his demeanor. “I’m in deep with the family business, rabbit. If I didn’t toe the line, my uncle threatened to drag you into my mess and have you work off what I owed. Every penny, and I can tell you for a fact that it wouldn’t be in a fucking shop. He’s a petty bastard with a nasty streak, and I’ve already pissed him off one too many times. I can’t fight him on even footing. All I can do is shut him up for as long as I can by toeing the line. How is that for detail?”
His face conveys so much frustration and rage that I’m infected by both.
“Driving a getaway car wasn’t ideal,” he adds, “but trust me, it’s a better deal than what he had in mind.”
Work off…
I let the wall support most of my weight as I sink to the floor, crossing my legs beneath me. “Why me?”
He shrugs, wincing with the effort. “You were around, and I was dumb enough to think he wasn’t fucking watching my every move. Don’t take it personally. He’s always been a controlling cunt.”
