Page 38 of Surface Scratch
Tariq stared at him, squinting through the dancing lights. “I’m not your dad or your boyfriend, so I’m not going to argue with you on this, but if you need to bail, I understand,” he said. He pushed himself off the booth and motioned for Caleb to follow him as he made his way over to the black curtains and velvet rope that kept the Members Only area separated from the rest of the club.
Caleb’s throat tightened as they approached. He hadn’t been back there since his first night on the job. He grabbed Tariq’s arm. “Who is it?” he asked.
Tariq pulled back the heavy curtain, his thick eyebrows raised. “You know him,” he said, waving away the bouncer who stood guard before he said anything. “Like I said, I can go alone. I’ve known Vincent for a long time.”
Caleb clenched his fists at his side, taking note of five things he could see and practically shouting them in his mind to quell the panic he felt rising.You can’t back out of this. You have to stop them. Even if it means seeing Vincent. “Let’s go,” he said. He pushed through the curtain ahead of Tariq into the hallway.
“Same room as last time,” Tariq said in a low voice. “He’s going to try to intimidate you, mostly because he thinks it’s fun. But he knows better than to touch you again. He’s all bark and no bite at this point… No pun intended.”
Caleb was too tense to acknowledge the joke. His eyes trained on the room with the silver curtain, trying to detect any sounds he could hear from its depths. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as his hand drifted to the spot on his ribs where he had been kicked.It’s not going to happen again. Tariq is with you. You’ll be fine.
He held his breath as they stopped just outside the room. Tariq gave him a wary look as if to ask if he was ready. Caleb nodded slowly, unsure whether he actually was ready, or just trying to rush forward so he wouldn’t have time to chicken out.
“I can hear your heartbeat out there,” Vincent’s voice called from farther back behind the curtain. “Are you going to torment me? Just come in already.”
Caleb let his breath out and stepped inside the room to once again face the source of more than one of his nightmares.
Chapter Twelve
The three brothers, Matteo, Luka, and Petrov, all sat together on one side of the curved couch, only glancing at him before resuming their silent conversation. Their fingers were a blur in the air, moving so quickly that even if Caleb had a cursory understanding of ASL, he wouldn’t have been able to figure out what they were saying to each other. But when Tariq stepped in behind him, the bearded twin, Luka, stood up with a huge grin on his face. He motioned for Tariq to come over.
Caleb watched in amazement as Tariq strode over to him and gave him a hug. “Long time, no see,” Tariq said while signing.
“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Vincent said, raising a Champagne flute in Tariq’s direction. The red liquid inside the glass looked bubbly like it was supposed to, but Caleb knew there was blood mixed into it.
Vincent sat in the center of the curved couch, his blond hair perfectly styled and his impossibly blue eyes accentuated by a steel-gray dress shirt. He wore that ever-present smirk on his face as his eyes landed on Caleb, leaning forward a little as he did, but he was hindered by the person resting against him.
Adam was fast asleep, his head on Vincent’s lap like he was Vincent’s pet. He was still shirtless, a blazer jacket over him as a makeshift blanket. His hair looked longer, but it was clean this time, somewhat obscuring the white bandage over the bridge of his nose, but the dark rings underneath his eyes gave away the fact that his nose had been broken recently. Caleb felt panic threatening to rise up from the pit of stomach. Adam didn’t look nearly as bad as he had over a month ago, but he still didn’t look safe at all.
He never had got around to asking Marcus if he’d been telling the truth about the nature of the relationship.
Caleb watched Vincent stroke Adam’s hair in a way that made him feel like he needed to bathe himself in bleach. It was almost like Adam was a lapdog, or one of those long-haired cats that villains in the movies had.
“Well, look who it is. And still in one piece, I see,” Vincent said, raising his glass in Caleb’s direction before taking a sip. He set the Champagne flute down on the round table in front of him and patted the empty spot on the other side of him from where Adam was lying. “Come. Sit. I imagine we have a lot to discuss.”
Tariq stepped forward. “Vin, don’t—”
“It’s fine,” Caleb said, cutting Tariq off. He straightened his shoulders and bit the inside of his lower lip.You got this.He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were beginning to tremble and took a seat beside Vincent, his eyes locked on the glowing exit sign above the curtain. For some reason, from the couch, it looked incredibly far away.
“Look at me,” Vincent said, his voice pleasant but threatening at the same time.
“Vin, come on—”
Vincent held a finger up toward Tariq, his eyes locked on Caleb’s face. “You two came to me, not the other way around. We play by my rules in here,” he said. He cocked his head and leaned toward Caleb, giving him a single sniff. “You’re injured.”
The hair on the back of Caleb’s neck stood on end and every fiber of his being wanted to pull away, or at least break eye contact. But the remembered sting of what had happened the last time he tried that manifested itself on his scalp and face. He wasn’t going to risk it. He just nodded through his grimace, unable to hide his mounting discomfort.
Vincent hooked a finger beneath the shell of his tie, pulling it loose before nimbly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Caleb bit down harder on the inside of his lower lip to stop it from visibly quivering, but it didn’t help much. It felt like his whole body was vibrating, trying to coax him to get away as his shirt collar was peeled back, exposing the healing wound on his neck. The deepest puncture wounds were still scabbed over and felt raw. For some reason, it felt more invasive than if he were to stand in the middle of the room naked.
The blond man leaned closer, his breath hitting the skin on Caleb’s neck. He used the opportunity to glance at Tariq, his body so rigid he felt like his joints would creak. Tariq crossed his arms over his chest, glowering at Vincent, his lips pursed as though he wanted to leap across the room. Matteo, the twin with the shorter hair, flapped his hand at the DJ, drawing his attention away.
Vincent pulled back, allowing Caleb to relax for a moment and refasten his shirt. He looked to Tariq. “So the old bastard finally got a new toy?” he asked.
Tariq scoffed. “No, he doesn’t have the same… peculiar tastes as you,” he said. He was still signing, as though he wanted to keep Matteo in on the conversation.
“Pfft, we all have the same tastes,” Vincent said as he resumed stroking Adam’s hair.
“Not as extreme,” Petrov pointed out. He had a thick accent, his weathered face softening despite the gruff, deep nature of his voice. What kind of accent was that? It sounded vaguely Russian, but Caleb wasn’t sure.
