Page 27 of Risky Taste
“You let him hurt me,” I whisper, my voice breaking, tears burning my eyes. “What did you do, Kurt?”
My brother chuckles, amusement playing in his eyes as he chugs the last of my coffee before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re so fucking naive, Noah.”
The twinge of fear and uncertainty running through me is slowly giving into rage because not only is Kurtnotanswering my questions, he’s taunting me with a truth I don’t know. Mustering up all the courage I have, I decided to attack head on. “Heath slipped past everyone into that church. He caught me in the bathroom and told us to stop digging. Said that he’d drag your name through the mud if I kept at it. I thought it was some accident, that Heath was crafty but I’m thinking that you probably let him slip by, didn’t you?”
My brother’s gaze narrows, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Why the fuck is that bastard even freaking out?” Yet another admission of guilt. “Should have fucking figured one of them would notice something. How about you do me a favor, Noah? Keep your dick away from my guys and let me deal with the hard stuff. Run back to your little clinic and take care of the sickly ones. It’s what you do best.”
I bite my tongue before I say something I regret.
“Noah, if you don’t leave them alone, I’ll just let everyone see how much stake they all have in this operation as well.”
“They’re not involved, Kurt. What would be the point of dragging them into a messyoumade?” My voice raises and I clear my throat to calm down. It doesn’t really help.
“Doesn’t matter what’s true. Public opinion is what will win for me. Leave them alone and I leave them alone.” His threat lands even if I won’t get very far. If I pull away, Declan especially will drag me right back into their arms and demand to know what happened.
But there’s just one more thing I have to know. Kurt’s already admitted his stake in this operation and while I don’t understand all of it, he needs to tell me to my face that he’s the reason for what happened during my deployment—or at least the reason I was out there in the first place. “You had the power—have the power to do a lot of things and yet, you sent me out there and then blamed me for my own shortcomings when I came back. Kurt, you’re mybrother. You could have protected me and yet you threw me into hell. Did I mean so little to you?”
The deviant smile spreading across his lips terrifies me. “I’m not some fucking villain, Noah. I found a way to survive, and it had been working. Sure, there were some growing pains and mishaps but it’s been smooth sailing ever since. Until now. Until you decided to sleep with my entire squad. Tell me, what’s it like? Getting fucked like that?”
A mishap. Growing pains. That’s all I am to the man sitting in front of me. “You’re an asshole,” I push out, unable to muster up a better retort. I fist my hands beneath the table, reining in my true emotions because they won’t serve me in public. Kurt also would have my ass if I tried anything.
“I’m just being realistic, Noah,” he says, reaching across the booth to ruffle my hair, his touch a mockery of affection. Then he just waltzes out the entrance of the hotel like he didn’t just drop a bomb in my lap.
Chapter eighteen
NOAH
I decline Logan’s call again, messaging him and saying that I’m safe but that I just need a little time. It’s not the smart thing to do, curling into myself while I have three very loving men wanting to support me but it’s what I’m used to. And for some reason, running back upstairs into their arms felt like the wrong decision.
So, I head to the clinic, burying myself in stitches and small wounds, grinning every time someone waltzes into my corner to get patched up. Declan’s text is next and it’s very obvious that they’re worried because he created a group chat.
Declan: Bunny, where the fuck did you go?
I just needed to clear my head. At work.
Logan: Seriously? You took the week off. What’s going on? Did you meet with your brother?
I did and I just needed to not think about it.
Bast: Babe, you don’t have to deal with this all by yourself.
I know.
The problem is that I’m still having a hard time believing it. It makes sense when I’m in their presence and their arms, my men holding me close and then something throws me off kilter and I’m back to thinking that curling into myself works better.
Logan: You get thirty minutes and then we’re coming through.
I’m about to argue but I know they’re just looking out for me. And I really could use the comfort, not to mention someone who understands where my head’s at.
Okay.
The next thirty minutes drag as I patch up an old buddy, dismissing the conversation he wants to have under the guise of a looming meeting. I wave him out and then roll over to my desk, searching through the drawers, a practiced habit I thought I broke years ago. Because there’s nothing in these drawers. There shouldn’t be, anyway.
And there isn’t—at least not the poison that used to be. However, there’s a small unwashed glass, the pungent smell ofold whiskey lingering at the bottom. I swallow nervously at the temptation before placing it on my desk, glaring at it like it can take away the confusion in my head.
That’s when one of the psychiatrists from the other end of the wing pops her head inside. Paige Walters is one of the few I don’t mind in my space. She’s all heart, too much of it, a worrywart who can’t resist meddling. “You know it’s usually better when there’s a drink in there.” She swipes the glass and sniffs it before grimacing. “It’s also usually better when they give you better whiskey.”
I manage a strained laugh as she places the glass back down.
