Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“I left my phone at his. I panicked, and then it was too late to go back for it,” Ezra whispered, and his soft voice was like an alarm in Frank’s head. That was why he didn’t call before coming here.
Which was a fucking mess because that body at Paul’s was more than likely ending up here tonight. Ezra should have never been touched by any of the dirt Frank couldn't wash his hands of. He was too beautiful and pure for this world of blood and violence.
“Fuck,” he said just as his phone rang. The display read, Paul.
Chapter 8
Ezra
Ezra shook at the sight of Paul’s name, and his gaze darted to Frank’s face, which formed a frown that made him simultaneously appear contemplative and like a man ready to take on anything. His severe features twisted, and Ezra’s hand dashed for his wrist. The darkness around them seemed to crawl closer, and if he didn’t hold on, it might drag him away.
“Don’t tell him I’m here,” he whispered, hoping that the touch would remind Frank how Ezra made him feel. He didn’t believe this man would just throw him under the bus, but there was a part of him that wanted to dangle a promise of more in front of Frank’s nose.
He couldn’t read Frank’s expression, but his thick thumb petted Ezra’s hand.
“Hey, what’s up?” Frank asked when answering the phone in the most neutral way. As if he hadn’t just heard that Paul murdered and dismembered someone. He was almost as good of an actor as Ezra was with clients he didn’t find attractive.
He didn’t freak out, didn’t blow up over Ezra appearing here unannounced despite Frank never offering him his address. Solid as a rock, Frank gave a little laugh at something Paul said. Perhaps this kind of thing came with life experience, or maybe the real-life Frank was just as steady as he was in bed, but seeing him in the driver’s seat of Ezra’s car felt reassuring already.
He was in danger, and his plans were uncertain—but from the moment he’d stepped through the gate and touched Frank, he felt safe.
He tried to eavesdrop on the conversation, but only heard Paul saying something about a car.
“Does it have to be tonight?” Frank sighed, his thumb still caressing Ezra’s hand in a comforting fashion.
So maybe he wasn’t the most refined kind of man and definitely needed a shower, but right now, Ezra didn’t need a guy in an Armani shirt. He needed a guy who could wield a baseball bat if need be.
“Okay, fine, just be on time,” Frank said, leaving Ezra bewildered.
Did he understand correctly? Paul was coming here?
His hand squeezed Frank’s as the other man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re already on your way? What if I was away?” he asked, and while his voice remained steady, there was a twitch to his brow.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Jag might have not been here— Okay, he’s always here, but he can be hard to find! I gotta get ready.” Frank turned off the phone, but while he hit the steering wheel with one hand, the other remained on Ezra’s. “Paul’s coming with a car for me. I couldn’t say no, it would have been suspicious. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll call Jag, and he’ll take you to a safe spot for the time being. His boyfriend will hide your vehicle.”
Ezra gave a shuddery breath. “A car? What? At night? What might be possibly—” His voice died when he met Frank’s gaze with a terrible realization drilling at the back of his mind. “There was an unfamiliar vehicle at his home. It must have been the dead guy’s! Frank, he might send suspicions your way!”
As soon as he said that, he felt like the biggest idiot. Frank was bound to know there was something shady about the car. After all, he was receiving it at night. From a murderer.
“I’ll deal with it,” Frank said in the voice of someone who’d handled far worse shit in his life. His hand slipped out of Ezra’s grip, and he was already calling Jag as he left the car.
Every bit of Ezra’s body weighed a ton, and he hugged himself, staring at the single-storey home in front of him. The motion-activated lamp, which switched on as soon as Frank’s firm, bulky form moved toward it, only showed so much, but it looked like a place where one might find used needles in the sofa.
Was this where Frank spent the majority of his week? How could he afford Ezra’s services when he lived in this dump? His mouth dried when he lifted his hand to take in the Rolex. The grimy pieces of Frank’s life were falling into place, shedding light on things previously unexplained. The junkyard was only a front. For a fence.
Oh, this was bad.