Page 8 of Raze
Didn’t know it wasWolf Riderhot, though.
That’s the part I’m leaving out, and I’m betting Raze can smell the lie.
Raze steps closer, looming over me, and the air feels thinner, like he’s stealing it.
“Don’t play me, Nico,” Raze says, his voice low and calm. My name in his mouth sounds dangerous, like a warning wrapped in something else. “You’re not dumb. You knew those crates weren’t clean. So who’s pulling the strings? Names.Now.”
Raze’s voice is commanding, all gravel and steel, and damn if it doesn’t stir something in me, a heat that’s got no business being here.
I shift in the chair, trying to ignore the way my body reacts, the way his presence fills the room like a physical force. I’ve talked my way out of worse, I remind myself. I’ve charmed cops, dealers, even a judge once.
But Raze? He’s not buying my shit, and those eyes say he sees right through me.
“Alright, alright,” I say, raising my hands like I’m surrendering. “I work for a guy named Snake. Small crew, nothing big. Like, nothing compared to you guys. They didn’t tell me who they ripped off, I swear. I’m just the hired help.”
Another half-truth.
Snake’s a nobody, a middleman who brags too much, but I’m not about to give up the whole game. Not yet. I need to keep Raze talking, buy time to figure out my next move...
Raze leans in, hands braced on the table, close enough that I can smell leather and that sharp, dangerous edge of him.
“You’re lying,” Raze growls, and it’s not a question. “You’ve got one chance, boy. Spill everything, or you’re done. No games.”
That word again—boy—hits like a spark, lighting up something reckless in me.
I’m not ready to die, not by a long shot, so I play along, leaning forward, matching his intensity.
“I’m telling you what I know, Raze,” I say, doing my best to not sound petrified while at the same time letting him see that I am vulnerable, that in all likelihood I am the unlucky naïve lowlife who got caught out of his depth. “Snake’s the guy. Runs with a dude named Tito, couple others. They’re out trying to sell the stuff now. I don’t know more than that.”
It’s enough to sound convincing, not enough to screw me over. I hope.
Raze straightens, his jaw tight, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or thinking.
The bulb overhead swings, casting shadows across his face, highlighting the scars on his knuckles, the lines etched around his eyes. Raze is older than me, but it only makes him more intimidating, like he’s seen shit I can’t even imagine.
And yet, there’s something about the way he’s looking at me, like he’s torn between breaking me and… something else. Maybe he did feel my achingly hard cock against him on the motorcycle. Maybe his cock was hard too…
It’s messing with my head, and I need to stay sharp.
“Here’s the deal,” Raze says finally, his voice cutting through the silence. “You give me everything—names, places, plans—and maybe you walk out of here. Lie to me again, and you’re done. Understand?”
I nod, my grin gone, replaced by a tight smile.
“Got it.”
I’m playing along, but I’m starting to think Raze sees right through me, past the charm and the lies, straight to the part of me that’s scared shitless and, worse, turned on by the danger. As much as I’d rather be anywhere else than here, all I can think of is what I would do—how I would react—if Raze was to tear my clothes from my body, bend me over this chair and fuck my brains out right here and now…
Would I confess everything then?
Would I cum with his dick planted deep inside me?
Would I call Raze my Daddy?
I’m in deep, and the way he’s watching me, like a wolf sizing up its prey, says I’m not getting out of this easy.
Maybe not at all…
Chapter 4
