Chapter 10

“You feel so damn amazing. My dick will keep you stuffed all damn night, would you like that?” I tell him, lost in the heat of his tight hole.

He shamelessly moans and then whimpers. Fucking love that uncontrolled sound.

He’s bent over the table, his ass in the air with my cock pumping inside of him. I just came, but I’m still fucking hard, my balls ready to be drained by his gaping hole again. My hole. I stop to pour more lube on us and then resume fucking him again.

“Love to be impaled on a dick, don’t you?” I grab his wrist and pull on it to get my cock even deeper. I let a wicked, satisfied smile form as I watch his submissive behavior.

“Only yours,” he slurs, completely drunk on lust and me. I still have his dark taste on my tongue. Seeing him turn into a mindless sex addict was such a turn-on, I should rim him more often.

I’m pumping more forcefully now, can’t resist how fucking drenched he is inside. “Love to feel my cum inside you while I fuck you. I’ll feed it to your hungry tongue as soon as I shoot another load.”

“Yes. Oh fuck, what are you doing to me?” He hits his head on the table, sounding defeated.

The same thing you’re doing to me.

I stop my hips and pat the side of his thigh.

“Show me how good it feels to be my bitch. Fuck my cock, bounce that juicy ass.” I slap one cheek, groaning as I see it jiggle every time he hits the base of my dick. He’s fucking me so good, with quick, strong drives. I pull a cheek apart to enjoy the sight of my dark cock disappearing inside his pink hole. All that pale skin under mine. Damn it, why is it so damn erotic?

“Spank it. I know you want to,” he practically dares me.

I fucking do, grunting every time a moan escapes his lips as my hand falls hard on his reddening skin. His hips up their tempo, his wet pussy sucking my dick over and over again.

I keep watching my cock going in and out, disappearing and then coming out all slick and shiny.

“I want to come like this. Work my dick, Red.”

He rides me frantically until his whole body rocks and writhes under me as his third orgasm takes over. His ass strangles my length.

He cries out my name over and over again until it sounds hoarse and raspy.

“Shit. Feel my cum inside,” I hiss before I thrust all the way in to the hilt and stiffen as I climax with a roar. So. Fucking. Good. My cock pulses inside him, making him clench even harder around me. He lets out a strangled cry as I keep stuffing him. The last spurt is so strong, it turns fucking painful, but the pleasure is so damn explosive I almost blackout.

I pump my dick a few more times and then collapse on top of him. His fresh scent wraps around me. His back feels warm and wet under me, and I place light kisses on his nape as I try to slow my breaths.

“Are you alright, Red?”

He hums and trembles under me. “I’m so fucking full.”

I move my cock around just to make him feel how much I can fill him, and he groans.

“I lose my mind every fucking time I’m inside you,” I confess, still riding my afterglow.

He snorts. “No shit.” His happy laugh pushes a light one out of my chest as well. He turns his head toward me. His eyes full of shine. “You were perfect. It was amazing. The best sex of my life.”

“Fuck, Ramiel.” I see the blush creeping up his cheek, and I place a soft kiss on his lips. I love this just as much as I do the rough sex.

I rub my face against his skin like I want to scent-mark it. Him. Fuck the consequences.

He’s my boyfriend, right? My new drug of choice. I’m trying to cut smoking. Need to be addicted to something else, Ramiel could be it.

After I’ve managed to calm myself down a little, I pull up and slowly slide out of him, loving the way he whines.

His hole is stretched and gaping, red from the pounding. A thick trickle of cum is leaking out, slowly rolling down his balls.

The sight sends a fresh rush of blood straight to my soft dick. A possessive feeling envelops me.

My voice is a low rasp when I say, “Look at my cum pouring out of your loose cock-taker.”

I slide a finger inside his abused hole, pushing some jizz back inside and watching as it disappears in his ass. He sighs contently as I gather more and stuff it in.

“Will it sound weird if I say I want to live the rest of my life filled with your cum?” he asks between long breaths. I can feel the grin on my lips as I remove my finger and pull him up until he faces me.

“It sounds very doable to me, boyfriend.” His triple-dimple smile comes out. I pat his lower lip and let him suck my cum-covered fingers. When they are clean, I taste myself on his tongue, releasing a guttural sound.

It feels so damn good. When we are this close, everything is… I’m happy. Really happy. For the first time in eight years.

I continue to plunder his mouth. His tongue slides hot against mine until my stomach starts to rumble, and he moves back.

“You really are a bearfriend,” he teases me, pulling on the hair on my pec. “I’ll warm a few slices of pizza. Beer?” He strokes my round belly with a contented smile.

Eye of the beholder, I guess.

I slap his ass and nod. After cleaning the table of Ramiel’s cum, I pull my jeans back up, pocket his torn panties—it’s an instinctive move—and start eating the pizza at the table.

“What’s that?” I ask him when he comes back from my bedroom wearing my sweats again and holding a white box. His chest is covered in hickeys and cum, his hair a disaster.

He looks like a wet fucking dream. My dream.

“Your new phone.” He pushes a shiny cell into my hand. “Serena already transferred all the contacts, pictures, and apps you had on your old one.” When I keep staring at him, he adds, “Yours had a cracked screen and was so fucking old. Just take it.”

I push the food hard down my narrowing throat. It’s a small gesture, but it elicits many different feelings. Gratefulness, longing, affection, fear, inadequacy. Nobody has done anything for me in a long time. Because I don’t let them. I’m too scared to get too close, to trust again. But I want to with Ramiel, even though he is keeping things from me.

“I also updated your home security system.” He did what? “Which reminds me, Serena, why didn’t you announce Hunter entering the property?”

“Dare changed the people notification function,” Serena’s voice comes from somewhere in the house.

“Smart little shit! For whom?” Ramiel shakes his head, but he has a small, satisfied smile on his face.

“Dare, Ren, and Ash Wright, Ramiel Masters, and Hunter Penn.”

“Awww, he included me.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but he looks happy, so it’s fine. “Would you mind if I ask Dare to come work for me?”

“Creating video games?”

“If he’s interested. Also, I may help Ren find a job at a vet clinic.”

“They talked to you?” It sounds more like a question coming from my lips.

“Yes.” He frowns. “They called me, I didn’t invite myself again. They needed help with a game, and we chatted.”

My eyebrows kick up at the news. “The triplets talked to you.”

“Why do you look so surprised? It took some time, and me beating them at every game we played, but of course we talked. We aren’t friends or anything. But they are okay, I guess.” He shrugs like it is not a big deal. But if he knew the horror those kids endured in their past and how long it took me to make them see me as not another enemy, he would understand my shock.

“You don’t need an invite to come here. Ever.” I stare straight into his luminous eyes. So pretty. When I grab his hand, his pinky starts stroking my palm the way it always does. “You’re special, Ramiel Masters.”

An impish smile turns up the corners of his lips. “Special in a good or freak kind of way?”

I push my lips gently against his. His hand bumps against the bracelet on my wrist, and he brushes a finger over the black beads, his gaze lifting to mine.

“Best friends,” he reads the letters on the beads. “Would you tell special Rami about this?” His tone is light, but his eyes are guarded, like he expects me to refuse him.

Only a few days have passed since he slipped into my life, and he’s already tucked himself into it. All his challenges, his confessions, his bratty and flirty acts, his nosiness, his warmth, his smirks and teasing, and that sexy-as-fuck body have pushed me toward him, kept me close, tied me to him.

There’s no chance of escape. There never was. And if there was, would I take it?

“Loretta Mary Jefferson. This was hers.” I lift my hand to show him the bracelet as he lets go.

“Why is that name familiar?” His eyes dart left and right like he’s searching his memory.

“Her father used to attend St. Joseph’s Mass every Sunday, and Loretta went with him.”

“She was on the list of churchgoers the police made.” Ramiel snaps his fingers. “Sorry, keep going.”

“She’s the reason why…” I pause, looking at my balled hand clenching and unclenching, “I opened my fucking eyes.”

“You never had any suspicions of your cousin?”

“No. We were never close. He was much older. Went to a different school. Had different friends. And Cal found his…calling very early in life.” I grit my teeth and then hiss with anger, “Still, I would’ve never thought he could be such a monster.”

“How did you find out?” The memories are trying to pull me in, but Ramiel’s calm and steady voice is keeping me grounded.

A bitter laugh leaves my lips. “I went to St. Joseph’s that evening to thank Cal for giving me the cross pendant. The one you found in my damn drawer.” I push my spine against the back of the chair. “I was never a believer. Being a cop meant seeing people make bad decisions every day. And the idea that a confession could clean their sins away and send them straight to Heaven sounded preposterous to me. But I started to go to Cal’s church. My mother died a year before, and with Opal and Jasper, Cal was the only family I had left. The virtues and principles he preached about started to make sense, to comfort me in a world full of wrongdoing.”

“What happened that evening?” Ramiel asks me, and I realize I’ve once again been lost in my recollections.

“The main door was locked, so I entered through the side door of the church, passed the vestry, and then stopped when I heard Loretta’s voice.”

“She was there?” He looks confused, then his eyes widen. “The piece of denim fabric the police found on the floor. It was hers.”

“Yes. I didn’t tell the detectives about her because…”

“You wanted to protect her.”

I nod. “I’d seen her before at the church, in passing with her dad. She never looked happy to be there. I remembered thinking, what teen would? But she had a very good reason.” I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m very close to unraveling.

Ramiel’s arm pauses, like he wants to reach across the table and take my hand, but he’s unsure. Then his warm hand envelops mine, and it feels like the most natural thing. His strong grip and comforting strokes give me enough strength to go on.

“She was screaming at my cousin, telling him she was going to go to the police and tell them…what he’d been doing to her. And he…laughed so…malignantly. He was another person. An ignoble one. He told her nobody would believe a problematic teen over a beloved priest. He told her his cousin was…that I was a cop, and that…I would always side with him. And then he ordered her to…kneel and suck her sins away.” I feel my stomach clench and the pizza trying to come back up. Squeezing my eyes, I take a deep breath as Ramiel lets go of my hand.

A moment later, I feel his heavy weight on my lap and his big body around me, surrounding me with warmth and understanding. His fresh scent almost cleanses me as it spreads inside me. He’s kissing along my face, making soothing sounds.

I wrap my arms around him and press him tightly against me. I want to absorb all the solace he’s pouring over me, fill my body with it.

“It’s gone. Done with. In the past. Let it go, Hunter Bear. Let it go.” But I can’t. The letter reminded me that it’s not done yet.

“What is it?” Ramiel moves his head back to look me in the eyes. “You tensed again.”

Should I tell him? I lift my hand and push a rebel red lock off his forehead. His gaze is candid and filled with affection and worry. I open my mouth to confess everything when he grabs my wrist.

“This bracelet… I’ve seen it before. It’s like one of those bracelets you buy or make to exchange with friends.”

“Someone gave it to Loretta, then.”

“And she gave one to…him! Fuck!” He grabs my face and gives me a hard, quick, tongueless kiss. “Serena, find links between Malcom Bindy and Loretta Jefferson.” He taps on his bracelet.

“On it,” the AI replies.

“You think they were friends?” My mind is working hard to capture every angle.

“Best friends.”

A few minutes later Serena starts talking, “Loretta Jefferson and Michael Bindy attended the same elementary school, middle school, and high school until they both dropped out at age sixteen. I transferred to your phone pictures of them together from school albums and social media.”

Ramiel grabs the phone from the table and holds it so I’m able to see the screen as well. In the first picture, two small kids are playing in a park. One is definitely Loretta with her blond hair and sweet brown eyes, the other one could be Malcom. In the second, they are older, sitting next to each other on a sofa. She’s reading a book, and Malcom is writing something in a notebook, his head on her lap. Loretta is wearing the best friends bracelet.

“Look!” Ramiel zooms in on Malcom’s wrist where a bracelet almost identical to the one I have is.

I stroke a hand over my face. “So, it’s true. This is all connected to my past. But how?”

He moves away from my lap and starts pacing the room. “How did you get the bracelet?”

“Loretta took her life a year after I was convicted. And a few days later, I received a small package, and inside it was this bracelet and a piece of torn paper that said, ‘I’m sorry.’” I always thought that the pain had been too much for her. It turned her into a different person until she decided to end it.

“She must have sent it to you before committing suicide. Some victims of abuse, especially young ones, take responsibility for what they suffer. They partly blame themselves, especially if the abuser convinces them of their bad behavior. Your cousin was a Catholic priest, and he must have used his position and the whole original sin and moral culpability thing to instigate kids to do his perverted, despicable bidding.”

Ramiel seems to know a lot about victims of abuse. My eyes fall on his burned hand. He said that he did it to himself, just like his own mind turned him numb to protect him. But from what? What happened to him?

“We need to find Malcom and try to understand what’s going on. Why was he on a hit list? And…wait. He recognized you.” Ramiel suddenly stops and looks at me.

“What?” I ask him.

“When we found him, he was scared of you because he recognized you. He was Loretta’s best friend. She must have told him about you. Or he saw you before.” He lifts his phone and starts tapping. “Malcom was an average student. Never attended St. Joseph’s. He lived in a trailer park until he went missing at sixteen. A week after you were arrested.”

“Loretta turned to drugs and prostitution around the same time. I asked my cousin, Opal, to keep an eye on her while I was in. She let me know when Loretta took her life,” I tell him. Did I do everything wrong? If I had done things differently, could I have saved her?

“So maybe Malcom tried to help her and was sucked into that life, or vice versa. And now people are trying to kill him and you. Fuck! I’ve been so obsessed with you, I?—”

I interrupt him, my brain needing a break from all this shocking new information. “You’re obsessed?”

His cheeks turn from pale to crimson red. I fucking love it. Love how his white skin changes color so easily, especially under my hands and mouth. “Is it because I make you feel?”

He must hear the uncertainty in my voice because his tone turns sweet. “My obsession started before that. One look at your bear-self, and I was hooked.”

“It’s mutual, Red. That hot mouth of yours was my undoing, and I’m not only talking about your deep-throating skills.”

Mischievousness enters his eyes, and his lips tip into a crooked smirk. “My boyfriend”s chocolaty cock is so delicious.” He licks his lips.

“I’ll give you all the sweetness you want. Want to hear you calling me your boyfriend next time I fuck you.” I let my dark order fire the air between us, and he straddles me once again. “Love to put this look on you. Fucking hate when the twink did it as well.” I start bouncing his ass on my growing dick.

He groans. “I was thinking about you, pretending his hands were yours. Don’t like when other people touch me.”

I growl, the possessive feeling inside me growing. My phone beeps with an incoming text, and Ramiel freezes on my lap. His blissful expression drops.

“We need to concentrate on the case, Hunter Bear. I’ll give your big cock a ride it’ll never forget when this is all behind us.” He kisses me and once again leaves my lap—and my throbbing dick.

He can inflame me with a few words and a dirty look. I’m the one obsessed.

I turn to my phone, and see it’s Hector. “I reached out to an ex-con who served time with me. He deals in illegal guns.”

“The ones we saw at Malcom’s had the serial numbers scratched off,” he reminds me with a frown as he takes off my sweats and pulls on his shirt and jeans again—with no panties. He didn’t take a shower, and the idea that he likes my cum inside him fills my balls with more.

“You took a video. Take a shot of the guns, and send it to me. I’ll forward it to Hector. If they were local, he knows about them, and maybe they can lead us to Malcom.”

He does it. “You’ve never been hotter, Grizzly,” he moans. “Talk P.I. to me.”

I leave my chair and stamp a kiss on his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, Red.”

“And extra special, don’t forget the special part!”

I get another text. “Hector sent me an address. Let’s go check it out.”

“Serena, get the address from Hunter’s phone and start the usual full inspection.”

“Starting now. And ready to give you directions.”

“Her voice, where did you get it?” I ask him as we get ready.

A small closed-mouth smile touches his lips, and when he starts talking, his voice has a hint of melancholy in it. “When I was around thirteen, I used to sneak out and go to this old empty diner with red booths, dim lights, and a jukebox filled with too many songs. My foster family was—is to this day—a lot, and I felt at times…unprepared and in need of some quiet. There was this waitress there. She was in her thirties and had this light, calm voice. She was always nice to me, to all of the very few customers. I wasn’t surprised when, a year later, she told me the diner was going to close down. I heard her saying she wanted to move to L.A. but didn’t have enough money, so I proposed that she give me her voice. And for the next six months, she recorded it for me.”

I can relate with his need of peace and quiet. Raising three teens is hard and noisy as fuck. But I can’t imagine my life without their daily chaos anymore.

“Why did you name the AI Serena?”

“My brothers think that her name is an acronym, like Sentient Entity Remarkably Exploring Novel Approaches, or Spectacularly Entertaining Robot Employing Neurological Algorithms. Or?—”

“I got it, Red, you’re fucking smart. What’s the truth then?”

He smirks. “It simply means serene.”

“Because that was what you got from that diner. Serenity.” Hearing her voice gives him back that feeling.

“Yeah.” The triple-dimple smile is making him damn alluring and in need of a spanking. Followed by the promised ride on my dick.

“You get me,” he murmurs with wonder in his tone. Yes, I do, just as you get me.

I wear my holster and grab my CZ75B. I eject the clip, check it, and pop it back in smoothly. I cock the barrel before putting on the safety and snapping the gun into the holster. I can feel Ramiel’s attentive gaze on me, following every movement as he slides his long knife on his back.

“You just got even hotter, Hunter Bear. Hard-on-inducing hotter.” He pushes his palm into his groin and adjusts his jeans around the growing bulge. We are even, then.

“Are the boys going to be okay with that Lori guy?” I ask, grabbing my jacket and handing him his leather coat. I know he’s got his brass knuckles in the pocket. With the knife should be enough.

“Definitely not. Serena, send a text to Lori. We are leaving. If something happens to the wicked trio, Hunter will withhold his black mamba from me, and it’ll be your fault. Prepare for my wrath.”

I turn an incredulous look his way, to which he replies, “Lack of sex is the only way for Lori to understand the gravity of my statement. Still, it’s a bad fucking idea to leave them with him.”

They’re eighteen and used to taking care of themselves. Even though they made a few really bad choices in the past, I’m confident they learned from them. Hopefully.

I close the front door and move to my Harley, patting the back of the seat after I mount it. “Hop on, Red.”

“We can go in my car,” he says, pointing at the slick Porsche.

“Mine is faster through traffic.” I pass him the extra helmet, and he grabs it with a grunt.

“It’s going to flatten my hair.”

I look at his just-fucked, messy locks and snort. “Less whining, more hopping.”

He slides the helmet on with a sigh and climbs behind me. My baby groans under our combined weight, she isn’t used to carrying two people. But I immediately like Ramiel’s large body behind me. He needs to come closer, though.

I grab his thighs, yanking him toward me with a strong tug. He emits a high-pitched squeak worthy of a Victorian lady that sends me into deep laughter.

“You scared me!” He punches my shoulder, but I hear the smile in his voice. He scoots forward until I feel his dick pressing against my lower back.

I put my helmet on and start the bike, feeling her quivering under me.

Ramiel is mumbling something in the Bluetooth helmet as he places his hands on my thighs, dangerously close to my groin.

“What?” I ask, as I slowly drive down toward the gate.

“We need to fuck on this girl. The vibration is so damn erotic between my legs.”

I lose control of my bike for a second and slightly swerve to the right as his words register. “Are you trying to kill us?” I scold him as my dick throbs at the image Ramiel inserted in my head.

“Not before I ride your black mamba on top of your bike!” He giggles and grinds against my back, making me groan.

Fuck! He’s really going to kill us. I tighten my grip on the handlebars and focus on the road ahead.

“Serena is giving me directions. Drive toward Austin on the West Side,” he tells me. I really need him to explain to me how communicating with Serena works.

I throttle the gas and let the cool wind and the sound of my bike ease me. Usually, everything calms inside me when I ride. Just me, my Harley, and speed. But with Ramiel plastered against me, I’m anything but calm.

His thumbs are stroking my inner thighs absently, his crisp scent inexplicably fills my helmet. He’s humming an old pop song, his chest pressed against my back.

I round a corner and then open up my bike as we hit the freeway. One of his hands lets go, and he spreads his arm out to feel the wind between his fingers. His free, light laugh is infectious, and I find myself smiling. The corners of my mouth hurt with how much work they’ve been doing since I met Ramiel.

He lightens my heavy and makes me forget about whatever surrounds me for a few precious moments.

I wish I could see his face, but I can easily imagine his shiny brown eyes filled with excitement and the three dimples forming on his cheeks.

I don’t want the ride to end, so I slow down and lace my fingers with his on my leg.

Thirty minutes later, he tells me to stop on the side of the road on high ground. We dismount, and I hide my bike among some wild bushes. I can see a red industrial building at the foot of the knoll from a gap between the tree branches.

“The place is owned by Samson Crain, a known arms smuggler. There are two guards outside.” I can see only one from our position. “And one person inside. It’s Malcom. The security cams caught him entering three hours ago,” Ramiel passes on what Serena found out.

“It would be nice to have an assistant like her in my line of work,” I mutter.

“You would?” he asks, looking a little doubtful.

“Who wouldn’t?”

“My brothers don’t always like her.” Does he do whatever this is with his brothers?

“Was the guy in the suit that helped you in the van one of your brothers?”

“Yes.” He huffs. “That’s Gabe.” He rolls his eyes but then looks toward the building again. “Serena can obscure the cams for five minutes as we go in and another five minutes when we come out.”

“That’s more than enough time to incapacitate the guards and have a chat with Malcom.”

“You have a very attractive neck,” he suddenly tells me, and when I turn toward him, he gasps and dramatically fans himself.

“Red, focus!” I force his head back to the building. “I’ll take care of one guard, you get the other.”

He nods. “Let’s split. I’ll go that way.” He points right.

When I’m about to go left, he grabs my face and pulls me down. The kiss is hard and fast. Then his eyes flash down to the half-chub in my pants.

“Stop it,” I growl.

“I can feel it misses me.” He makes a ridiculous face, and I let out an exasperated huff.

Ramiel was sent by the Devil to fucking test me.

“Be careful, Grizzly.” He flicks my stiffening cock with his index finger and smirks before vanishing among the vegetation.

I pull on my jeans to make more space for my erection. Leave it to Ramiel to turn me on in such a delicate moment.

I start the descent—which is not easy with a damn hard-on. The darkness of the evening shields my big body from being spotted by the guards, but I need to tread carefully since I can’t see well, and tripping and falling will definitely catch their attention.

I stop when I reach the last tree before the building, hiding behind the trunk. I can’t hear Ramiel, only the click of a lighter, and when I peek from the side, the small flame shows the guards face for half a second. He has a rifle hanging from his shoulder, which could be a problem. I need to distract him so I can get him from behind.

I grab a stone from the ground, but a painful-sounding grunt coming from the other side of the building makes the guard spin around, and I take advantage of it. While he’s trying to decide whether he should check on it or not, I swiftly come behind him, grab his neck, and twist it. I feel the light crack of his breaking cervical vertebrae resounding inside my ears, just before his body collapses on the ground.

I feel no remorse in taking his life. Prison taught me that hesitating just gives evil time to regroup. I don’t like to kill, but I’m not going to lose sleep over it, I already have my own nightmares for that.

Ramiel appears from around the corner as I’m going through the guard’s pockets. I find a pair of keys, which I toss his way, and a pack of cigarettes. I light one and take a long drag.

Menthol, disgusting. I still take another pull before tossing it into the darkness.

Ramiel is trying the keys. The second one unlocks the door way too loudly. I unholster my gun and signal him to stay behind me. He rolls his eyes and points at the big-ass knife he’s holding. I grit my teeth and gesture him more firmly to stay back. He puckers his lips like the brat he is, but lets me go first.

I slowly push the door open and enter the building. My eyes go over the long corridor, it’s dimmed, but there’s a light at the end coming from an ajar door.

I walk slowly, keeping my gun up and ears open to detect noises. When I reach the door, my foot pushes on it to give me a better look inside. There are at least eighty crates—probably carrying weapons—piled up on the opposite side of the room. There’s a small window on the left, and a foldable plastic chair sits on the right with empty food wrappers on the floor and a little upside-down wooden box acting as a small table for a couple of cans of cheap beer.

“Put the gun down and s-slowly come in-side,” I hear a quivering voice ordering me, and as I turn my head to the left, I see Malcom between two lines of crates pointing a rifle with trembling hands at me.

I lift my hands shoulder high and slowly take a couple of steps inside, hoping he didn’t see Ramiel.

As soon as my face is revealed to him, Malcom lowers his weapon. “What-what are you doing here?” He doesn’t seem afraid of me this time, more shocked.

His eyes fall on Loretta’s bracelet around my wrist, but they jump to mine when I tell him, “I have questions.”

“About the letter? How did you know it was me? How did you find me?” He freezes, body stiffening, eyes widening.

“Walk!” I hear Ramiel’s vicious tone coming from behind Malcom. He moves toward me, and I see Ramiel’s knife pressing against the guy’s back.

“Don’t you ever point a fucking gun at him ever again!” he hisses, pushing a cry out of Malcom as he roughly shoves the tip of the knife more firmly into the guy’s back. This protective side of his makes my dick twitch with pleasure. I’m a big motherfucker with a constant blank mask on my face and more scars than I can count, I don’t need protection. But Ramiel having my back fills me with so much fucking pleasure.

“Why did you send me that letter?” I ask him, as Ramiel yanks the rifle from Malcom’s hand and has the absurd idea of tossing it at me—or I think that’s what he intended to do. It hits the chair on my right instead.

A shot resounds inside the cold room, and then another one. I duck down, realizing it’s coming from outside and not the fallen rifle. Bullets keep flying. There’s broken glass on the floor from where they shattered the window, and wooden splinters continue falling all around.

I slide near Ramiel and the safety of the wooden boxes. He had dragged an injured Malcom behind the crates and has his palm pressed against the guy’s bleeding neck. “Serena, see if you can pinpoint where the bullets are coming from.”

The shower of bullets keeps falling over us. “Fuck!” I push my hand out and start shooting toward the window. When the magazine is empty, I grab a new one and proceed to continue unleashing my anger on whoever is out there.

“He’s losing too much blood,” Ramiel yells, and when I look down, I see a large red spot forming on Malcom’s belly. He was hit twice.

Ramiel is asking Serena to try calling Michael or Sari. Whoever they are, I don’t think they can be of much help at this point.

The shooting stops, but my ears are still ringing from it. Malcom is trying to say something. “Lo-Lo-rr-ettaa—” Blood starts to drip from his mouth. His eyes are filled with fear and pain. He knows this is the end. He claws at his wrist until he grabs his best friend bracelet and lifts it toward me.

I take it as he sputters more blood. Then he lowers his hand to the floor where a puddle of red is expanding near his side, and with his finger, he starts…writing something.

“D,” Ramiel reads. “I?—”

Malcom’s eyes suddenly flutter, and he coughs. His hand jerks up, gripping mine, the one still holding the bracelet. There’s pleading in his gaze, and then I see the exact moment life leaves his body. His arm drops heavily, and his head turns to the left as more blood paints his lips.

“Fucking shit, motherfucker! Damn it!” Rami curses angrily, and then with a loud sigh, tells Serena to stop trying to make the calls.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, sliding my eyes over his body, looking for wounds.

“Yes.” He cleans his bloody hand on his jeans. “You?” I nod, but am I? I slide Malcom’s bloody bracelet next to the other on my wrist and sigh. Another young life taken away.

Malcom wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve to die like this.

“When I find out who’s behind this, I will personally gut them…with a rusty spoon.” His tone is venomous, filled with cold resolve. It gives my body a chill. I understand his anger. I feel it too.

He grabs his phone and takes a picture of the letters Malcolm wrote on the floor.

He grunts, as he stands up, his body still fully hidden behind the crates. “Serena, is the shooter still outside?”

“How come she didn’t warn us?” I ask. “Wasn’t she checking the perimeter?”

“She was, but the damn jungley forest covered their arrival. Stay here.”

“What?”

“Hunter, I need you to stay here,” he tells me, using that firm tone I’ve heard from him only once before, in the alley near Smith’s when he told me he was going to take August Baker. And just like that time, I feel the urge to obey him. Fucking weird. But I trust my gut instincts, so I nod and stay put.

Ten minutes pass and then five more. I’m about to say fuck it and go look for him when Ramiel’s voice reaches me from the back door. “Hunter? Don’t touch anything, let’s not leave prints.”

“Everything okay?” I ask him when his figure enters my sight. He looks fine. His jeans and hands have dirt on them, and he has a smudge on his face too.

“Yeah. Took care of it. We can leave,” he replies.

Took care of it, how? I raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

“I offed him,” he simply says, not a smidgeon of remorse in his tone. He tried to kill us and died instead; I have no problem whatsoever with his death. But again, the mystery around Ramiel’s life is getting too dark to ignore. I need answers.

“He was another assassin. Probably here to kill Malcom.”

“And he succeeded.” I holster my gun and stroke my head.

“Serena, give us the five-minute darkness on the cameras.”

We quickly make our way out of the building as Ramiel cleans whatever we touched with a dirty piece of cloth he found on the floor.

“Are you sure Hector didn’t do this?” he asks me as we reach my bike.

“No, he owes me,” is my succinct response. I can’t give him more right now. My head is pulsing, my mind is going too fast, recalling every single interaction I’ve had with Ramiel, every detail, hint, and word he uttered. I don’t like the assumptions I’m coming up with.

His phone starts ringing, putting a stop to my thought-spiral. “Fucking finally!” He pushes the speaker button. “Vulture.”

“Ram?”

I can’t stop the low, angry growl slipping out of my chest at the intimate nickname. Ramiel smirks as he enjoys my possessiveness, but he clarifies, “It’s my hacker name.”

“You’re still alive.” The raspy voice on the other line states in a nonchalant way.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I heard Phoenix was asking around about you.”

I see Ramiel turn tense while gritting his teeth. “Know why?”

“Nope. The person who told me is not very reliable. But when Phoenix is interested in someone, it’s because they want him dead,” Beau explains.

“He’s the next name on my kill list then. Because nobody touches…Ram,” I hiss, feeling anger climbing and burning my chest. Who the fuck is Phoenix? Even though Ramiel is keeping secrets from me, I still feel the need to protect him.

He grabs my hand and starts the pinky-palm stroking, aiming a sweet smile my way.

“Mmm.” The Vulture doesn’t sound impressed. “Whoever you are, Phoenix will kill you and then Ram. They’re as emotionless and as dauntless as a robot.”

I growl again. They can try.

“How about the names I sent you?” Ramiel changes the topic.

“I can’t do that,” The Vulture replies.

“Vulture…” Ramiel sighs. “I found that vintage coke machine you were looking for.”

“Stop hacking my damn laptop!” he grunts, full of annoyance.

“You don’t want it, then?” Ramiel has that impishness in his eyes.

“Glass bottles?” The Vulture still sounds irritated, but also grudgingly interested.

“Yes.”

“I want stock.”

“One truck,” Ramiel grants.

The Vulture raises to, “Three.”

“One, plus a three-month discount on Vintage Manga online.”

The curses coming from the other line are quite colorful. “I might kill you myself if this Phoenix thing turns out to be bullshit.”

I open my mouth to let him know in detail what I’ll do to him if he touches what’s mine when Ramiel snorts. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

The Vulture sighs. “A hit was put out on Hunter Penn.”

On me as well? Nearly being run off the road, the shooting, and the mercenaries were actual attempts on my life.

“Together with Malcom Bindy and Norman Jefferson. Jefferson’s is done.”

“Loretta’s father, he died a few days ago.” Was he killed? Opal didn’t say anything about a murder. I thought he died due to natural causes.

“Put out by whom?” Ramiel looks pissed.

“You know it’s all anonymous. But the employer is the same for all of them. Each hit is five hundred K. Wait, Malcom Bindy’s hit was closed as well, and Hunter Penn’s just raised to seven K.”

“Hunter Penn is dead too. Spread the word.”

The Vulture tuts. “You know it doesn’t depend on me.”

Ramiel grits his teeth. “Beau, fucking do it. If something happens to him, Phoenix will not be the most feared out there anymore.”

When he looks back at me, I can see fear and fury gripping his face. I can feel how different everything is now between us. I can’t pinpoint when it changed, but it did. It’s almost palpable in the tiny space separating us.

“You already are one of them. And don’t use my name!” The Vulture mutters before the line dies.

Another chill rolls down my back, and this time, there’s no thrill with it. “Who are you, Ramiel?” I ask him, lowering my voice an octave while holding his stern stare.

“Really want to know? There’s no going back after.”

It sounds like a damn threat. But I don’t fucking care. “Yes.”