Ezra.
I stare at his hollow expression in that first picture for what feels like years. Decades. Centuries. Time has no value anymore. I don’t know if I’m blinking or breathing. Do I even exist?
Leo James.
And out of stock? What the fuck does that mean? Do I even want to know? Too many venomous emotions are already flooding through me when I type the address into Google. A tiny, worn Victorian home pops up, and when I dig into the homeowner listed, I come to learn that she’s a foster parent. Which means she’s had access to other kids.
I slam a fist down on my keyboard, cracking it in half. Scooting my chair away from my desk, I surge upright and pick up my thermos. I hurl it at the wall. Coffee splatters over the paint, dripping down onto the carpet.
What thefuckhave I done?
Ezra.My Ezra. His name is on thatfuckinglist. There’s no way. This has to be some sick joke.
Rev peeks his head into my office. I had no idea he was working late, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. “Routine evening meltdown? Is this a solo thing, or can I start throwing shit, too? I’ve always hated that potted plant in the walkway.”
His eyes cut to it like it’s plotting his murder. With as many times as he’s tripped over it, I’m beginning to think it has a conscience.
“Ezra was a victim of trafficking,” I blurt out, feeling my breath getting away from me. “He’s on that fucking drive.”
Christ, if Gabriel had cared enough to dig through old records on the drive, would he have recognized Ezra, too? It makes me sick thinking about how close these monsters were to him.
I rip my hands through my hair as Rev’s expression crumples. With silent movements, he comes around my desk and takes in the photo of young Ezra on my screen, perched on a stained velvet couch like he was posed for fucking holiday pictures.
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh, shit,” I retort. “I… we… we’ve been messing around, and I shouldn’t have… I should have never touched him, Rev.”
Rev struggles for the right words to fix this, but he’s the wrong person for the job, never one to be able to calm me when I spiral out of control. He’s always just let me rage. “You didn’t know. Ezra would have told you if he didn’t want that.”
“Would he?” I snap back, needing Rev to be mad at me. Needing someone to punish me for what I’ve done. Ezra was a fuckingvictim. “Or was he brainwashed into submitting to monsters like me?”
“He trusts you, Cain.”
“And I’ve done nothing but hurt him!” I shout back.
“If that’s what you want to believe.” Rev’s bright eyes drill into me. “What do you need, Cain? You need me to call up Isaac? I don’t know what to say to make it sink in that nothing you did was done maliciously. Ezra had a choice. Ezrawantsyou. And you flipping your shit because you found out something from his past, is only going to upset him in the worst way possible. You’re going to convince yourself to create distance, and it’s going to upset him. Heneedsyou.”
Rev’s speaking words that make too much fucking sense for someone clinically diagnosed as a psychopath. I can’t stay in this office any longer knowing what’s on my fucking computer. That Ezra might be alone right now.
I storm out of the office, headed for my apartment. I find Ezra curled up on the couch, reading a book about travel I bought him because I know he dislikes my books about business.
I drop to my knees in front of him, emotion strangling my throat.
“Cain? What’s going on?” Ezra asks, brows furrowing.
“Can I hold you?”
I need the warmth of his skin to know he’s alive, but I hate myself for asking to put my hands on him.
“Always.” He draws me into his arms, and I bury myself against his chest. He strokes a hand through my hair. “You’re scaring me.”
“Sorry, I just need to do this for a while. Is that okay?”
Ezra pats a hand on his thigh. “Come up here.”
I draw back only to remove my suit jacket and shoes. Then I plop down on the couch with my head on his lap like he instructs.
Here I rest. Cain Vincent. Ex-military. Current CEO and mercenary. Calculative and vicious. Snuggling up on the couch like some domesticated animal. Burning up inside because the guy I like was submitted to such a horrible thing, and I can’t ever make that go away for him. I can’t change what was done to him. Can’t change what I’ve seen or how I feel about it.
