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)
Ezra rolled his wrists, as if his hands had died a little in the upright position, but then his arms were around Frank, pulling him in as if it was Frank who needed sympathy, not him.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’m fine. Are you sure you’re not injured?” Frank stroked Ezra’s warm back, soothing himself by touching his lover’s warm skin, but Ezra kept watching him as if Frank were a frightened animal in need of coaxing.
“I’m all right. You protected me.”
“I promised.” Frank kissed the side of his head, slowly relaxing into their embrace. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”
But his muscles instantly tensed again at the rumble of an approaching car and he peeked through the shattered window where the curtain had fallen off its pole. One glance to the glass-covered floor made him pick Ezra up and sit him on the table.
But when he was about to grab his gun, Shane’s voice made him relax.
“Frank? Ezra?”
Relief ran deep in Frank’s bones as he watched Ezra cover himself with the coat he’d left across the back of the chair. Frank would much rather take care of him now, but with Shane here, explaining what happened took priority.
“We’re fine,” Frank said and stood in the doorway, looking out at his friend, who stared at the dead body resting with its face in the dirt.
Shane relaxed too and gestured at Paul. “I passed three fucking Hummers on the way here, and now this? What the fuck?”
Frank rubbed his forehead. “Well… It’s done. You wanna help or what?” he asked, waving the wad of cash in the air.
Shane raised his eyebrows but nodded. “Let me just tell Ros I’ll be home late.”
Chapter 31
Ezra
Ezra felt numb. The evening had seamlessly turned into night, and now there was a dark red glow at the edge of the horizon, predicting the upcoming dawn. He didn’t think about changing into anything suitable and wore the same neat leather shoes and Burberry coat he’d gone shopping in. Now he felt not only overdressed but also comical.
He was a clown. A well-dressed one, but a clown nevertheless.
Frank had suggested Ezra could stay home and not witness any of the aftermath, but he was done hiding from the truth. It was unlikely he would do this kind of work himself, but if this was what his man did, he needed to see it with his own eyes.
“Can’t believe he would do something like this after everything you two have been through,” Dex said, once again adjusting Paul’s position in the back seat of the car the bastard had come in, as if it mattered now.
“We’re not turning him into a mummy. He doesn’t need to look pretty. The compactor’s gonna rearrange that precious pose anyway,” Shane said, blowing out a cloud of cigarette smoke.
Frank was smoking too. Something he rarely did, and never around Ezra since the one time Ezra had expressed his displeasure about that habit. Tonight though, he wasn’t going to say a thing.
Dex gave the corpse one more glance before backing away. “Can you teach me that kind of neck-break power combo?”
Frank took his time inhaling, then exhaling smoke. “No.”
Dex looked borderline offended. “Why not?”
“You’d have to be stronger.”
Dex scowled before wiggling his body like a toddler told it wasn’t tall enough to go on the rollercoaster. “I am strong. We have a gym at the MC, and we work out every day.”
Ezra exhaled, gravitating closer to Frank’s side as Shane eyed the magnet grapple looming over them all like a rusty dragon. “Are we doing this? It’s almost morning, and we still need to bury the fucker once he’s crushed.”
Frank threw the cigarette under his feet and took a step forward when Dex slammed Paul’s door shut and hopped in place. “Can I do it? This way you won’t have to climb all the way into the cab,” he said as if Frank were an elderly man who couldn’t possibly manage such a feat.
Frank groaned. “Sure, knock yourself out. But you have to help with the burial as well. Shane already got the cement machine going.”
It was odd to see him this emotionally flat. The Frank Ezra knew might not be a ray of sunshine or a chatterbox like his nephew, but there had always been a warmth to him, which now seemed absent, as if the mild flame inside him had been extinguished. And while Ezra desperately wanted to once again ask him how he felt about what happened, it was clear he’d get the same dismissive answer as he had earlier.
Ezra had been terrified when Paul entered, and even more so when that cold, heavy piece of metal pushed at his face, yet now he felt nothing but fatigue. The rational part of his mind knew he’d risked everything by biting Paul’s hand. That bullet could have shattered his teeth, injured him, maybe even killed him, but in that moment both he and Frank had been in danger, and distracting Paul seemed to be their only chance.