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)
Jag led him out into a clearing, but they walked at its edge, past several massive tractor tires. “Oh, no, I was born in a forest, far, far away from here, but I needed to run, and eventually got here. Frank saved my life, so I owe him a debt that goes beyond loyalty. We’re brothers even if we share no blood."
Ezra froze on the inside. “Is that what Frank demands of the people he saves?” he asked as his mouth dried.
“What? No. Frank is a good man, I stayed because the junkyard is a safe place. Also very entertaining, but you’ll find that out for yourself. Come. Come here,” Jag pointed his spear at a ladder on the side of a shipping container and was the first to climb it.
Ezra swallowed. So far out of the city, the sky above was dark and full of stars, and the crevices of the labyrinth surrounding him from all sides might just hide monsters that had crept behind them all the way here. He chose not to overthink it and followed Jag farther on, into a big truck. The old leather seat was sticky under Ezra’s touch, but he pushed away the sense of revulsion and followed Jag into the compartment behind the cab.
He stalled when fairy lights went on, revealing what used to be the driver’s sleeping quarters, with a single bunk and a folding table, which now housed a small pile of potato chips and coke cans. The place smelled musty and had old, dirty blankets covering the floor in an uneven layer, but on the upside, it did not contain Paul.
“Yeah? Frank is good?” Ezra asked, desperate to keep the conversation going, because whatever he could find out about this new Frank might be the difference between death and survival.
Jag invited Ezra to the blanket with a grand gesture as if it was a throne. “Oh yes, Frank is very fair. I have a home with a fridge of my own now, but he used to store my meat and I never noticed any disappear.”
What did that even mean? Ezra arranged his mouth into a smile and stood in the doorway, not sure if he wanted to touch anything without it being necessary. Was this a dream? If it was, and he’d fallen into a twisted version of Wonderland, Jag would be the Cheshire Cat.
“Oh, so he’s fair as the king of this little kingdom?” Ezra tried, hoping his joke would land. What he really needed to know was whether his kind, rule-following client was prone to violence in his real life.
Jag’s serious expression spread into a wide smile at the comparison, and he sat down, which had to mean they were at their destination. “Yes! That! Now you understand. He makes the decisions. He will help you. You never said what massage therapy is. Do you massage him? That’s…” Jag licked his lips. “An intimate thing to allow someone. But you are very pretty, so I can see why he’d like that. He is unattached after all.”
Some of the tension in Ezra dissipated. This was exactly the kind of information he needed. “Well, he is a handsome man. I would be interested if he’d have me,” he said, hoping Jag might repeat it to Frank like the blabbermouth he clearly was.
He’d given Frank a lot of massages. Everywhere.
Jag’s eyes opened wider and he moved like an animal about to attack. Ezra took a step back and bumped his head on something but was relieved to see Jag smile. “You would? I knew it. I knew there was something about you! I think you could be Frank’s type. Unlike me, he doesn’t need his mate to be sturdy. But he lives alone now, and he claims that he doesn’t care, but he could use company. I used to be like that. On my own, convinced that I didn’t need a mate, or even a home. It wasn’t true. A man isn’t whole until he has someone to protect, to provide for, and to mate with.”
Ezra exhaled, nodding, because this guy was way too intense to go into any kind of discussion with him. Especially since he might not understand concepts that were mundane to Ezra. But everything he’d found out so far led to the conclusion that Frank, who very obviously had a soft spot for Ezra already, could be his shield, and maybe even his permanent way out of this terrible situation. Ezra just needed to give him the right incentive.
He could do that.
After all, he’d been learning that skill all his life.
And since Frank was a beefcake, there would be no loser in Ezra’s game.
Chapter 9
Frank
Frank couldn’t believe the fuckery this night had proven to be. And a rollercoaster ride of emotions at that. He thought he’d never see Ezra again, and now the boy was here, at his junkyard, desperate for help.