I try not to think about Ezra, but it’s impossible when he’s burrowed his way so deep into my brain I don’t think I’ll ever erase his presence there.
Accepting that this is going to be a disappointing orgasm, I don’t even bother with lube. I spit into my palm and jack myself in quick motions until I’m spurting thick ropes of cum onto my tensed abs.
I lie in bed until my breathing returns to normal. Then I wipe myself clean in the bathroom and storm into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
At least, that’s what I tell myself I’m doing. I can’t help a detour down the hall. The door to the other bedroom in my apartment is cracked, but the light is off and it’s dead silent.
I hover there for a few moments, beginning to feel like a creep in my own damn house. But I have a right to make sure he’s not fucking anything else up. If he didn’t want me to check in, he would have locked the door.
I push the door open wider. My eyes sweep from the empty bed to the floor where Ezra’s curled up with the throw blanket from the back of my couch, the one meant for decoration, not keeping a body warm.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. I give the guy a perfectly good bed, and he chooses to sleep on the floor. He’s going to wake up with cramped muscles.
Carefully, I scoop him up in my arms. His hand grips my t-shirt, right over my sternum, but he doesn’t seem to wake up. I pause to assess that flutter of something in my chest as I stare down at him.
He looks so… soft. So precious.
How did I not notice the first time I saw him? Maybe because my callous nature automatically categorizes everyone as a criminal to start. Hard not to when I’ve witnessed so many horrors in this world.
Add in the fact that I’m nearing my limit with Gabriel’s ability to avoid our bullets.
I draw back the blankets and tuck Ezra in. Hovering longer than acceptable, I’m unable to stop my thumb from tracing the line I carved into his otherwise unmarked face. A scar that will always remain.
I did that.
And I regret it. I know better than to strike first without good reason. The Special Forces trained me to assess situations first. My lack of control is just further proof that I’m out of practice, more businessman than soldier now.
One thing is for certain. I’m no good for someone like Ezra.
Assured he’s still asleep, I sneak out of the room and prepare for a restless night in my own bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CAIN
Iget a text from Rev the next morning before my second cup of coffee.
Shipyard was overrun with roaches. We’ll need more teams to successfully infiltrate, but we did manage to return with cargo.
Before anyone can slap early meetings on my calendar, I stroll to the elevator, coffee in hand, and ride it all the way down.
Deceptively big, the lower levels of Sinro Enterprises span two blocks underground, all the way to the edge of our parking garage.
Stepping off the elevator on lower level two, I press my thumb to the security pad on the wall. When the door swings open, I find Rev still in his fitted black tactical gear.
Gabriel’s crony is duct taped to a wobbly stool in the middle of the room over a drain in the concrete floor. I know it upsets Henry to have less of a mess to clean up, but I don’t need the guy occupied with bleaching floors. I need him out running body retrievals.
Our captive quivers with fear, and I smell the disgusting stench of piss on his clothes. He’s rambling, promising us money if we let him live.
Disregarding him entirely, I aim my attention at Rev. “You shooting for a promotion or something?”
Rev cracks a grin while I sip at my coffee–no sugar or cream to cut through the bitter taste. I don’t drink it for pleasure. I drink it to wake my ass up, another checkmark on the rigid routine I’d developed after I got out of the army.
Plus, there’s something so human about brewing a cup of coffee in the early morning. And most days, I needed a reminder that I am, in fact, human.
“Nah. Told you. My sights are set on that corner office. There’s a surprise on the table for you, too. You’re welcome. After this, I’m taking the day off. Tired of doing all your work. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”
Shaking my head, I walk over to the table and find a manilla folder waiting there for me.
