Page 24 of Grind
He finally looked up again. “How well do you know Paul?”
Fuck.
“We go way back, but don’t see each other often,” Frank said dryly with the meat on his bones already cooking with rage. “What did he do?” If Paul put his hands on Ezra in ways that they hadn’t agreed on, then Ezra came to the right person to deal with it. At least it would give Frank somewhere to exert all the violent energy he’d been struggling with all day.
The shivery breath Ezra took next tugged on all of Frank’s heartstrings. “You’re not gonna believe me. I can’t believe it myself, and I was there,” he said, rubbing his hands on woolen pants in a pale tartan pattern.
This didn’t sound promising at all. For a moment, Frank considered turning toward Shane’s house, which was nice and clean, but then he’d have to explain the puppies, and sooner or later, the truth about his place would have come out anyway.
“Try me.”
“He killed someone,” Ezra said in a voice coming from deep inside his chest. He shifted in the seat, bending one of his legs and resting it on the seat as he faced Frank.
What would a normal person do?Frank had to ask himself in moments like this. “What the fuck? Did you witness it?” he asked with a scowl as they reached the used-to-be white picket fence around his bungalow.
Ezra shook his head, which gave Frank the tiniest bit of solace. “No. I came to his place to return something. The back door was open, so I went in and—” He put both his feet down and faced away as his body convulsed as if he were about to puke.
This was the confirmation Frank dreaded. Ezra would never accept Frank for what he was, but he needed help now and would accept it from a monster like Frank as long as he didn’t know the truth.
Frank parked the car and hovered his hand over Ezra’s back, unsure what the protocol was now that he no longer had an arrangement with Ezra.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me.”
Ezra took a deep breath, and then leaned in, tucking himself into Frank’s arm. His aloe-scented hair tickled Frank’s neck, a painful reminder that Frank himself smelled like a skunk. “There was... a saw, and rags, and... a guy just butchered like an animal. His head was in a stew pot!”
Goddamn it, Paul!The bastard was getting sloppy.
“Jesus Christ…” Frank said for Ezra’s benefit and hugged him, since that was what he seemed to need. What a fucking shitshow. “I knew he could be a dangerous man.”Because we both used to be killers for hire.
“You did?” Ezra asked, grabbing Frank’s wrist as if he needed a lifeline, and Frank was honored to be the steady presence he chose. “He suggested he has contacts in the police force. I didn’t know what to do.”
Frank’s mind worked at full speed on how to get Ezra out of this mess. “He does. Ezra… more importantly, did he see you?” He hoped the answer was no, because the chances of Paul spotting Ezra and letting him go were close to zero, but the pregnant silence that followed his question made his throat dry.
“I left my phone at his. I panicked, and then it was too late to go back for it,” Ezra whispered, and his soft voice was like an alarm in Frank’s head. That was why he didn’t call before coming here.
Which was a fucking mess because that body at Paul’s was more than likely ending up here tonight. Ezra should have never been touched by any of the dirt Frank couldn't wash his hands of. He was too beautiful and pure for this world of blood and violence.
“Fuck,” he said just as his phone rang. The display read,Paul.
Chapter 8
Ezra
Ezrashookatthesight of Paul’s name, and his gaze darted to Frank’s face, which formed a frown that made him simultaneously appear contemplative and like a man ready to take on anything. His severe features twisted, and Ezra’s hand dashed for his wrist. The darkness around them seemed to crawl closer, and if he didn’t hold on, it might drag him away.
“Don’t tell him I’m here,” he whispered, hoping that the touch would remind Frank how Ezra made him feel. He didn’t believe this man would just throw him under the bus, but there was a part of him that wanted to dangle a promise of more in front of Frank’s nose.
He couldn’t read Frank’s expression, but his thick thumb petted Ezra’s hand.
“Hey, what’s up?” Frank asked when answering the phone in the most neutral way. As if he hadn’t just heard that Paul murdered and dismembered someone. He was almost as good of an actor as Ezra was with clients he didn’t find attractive.
He didn’t freak out, didn’t blow up over Ezra appearing here unannounced despite Frank never offering him his address. Solid as a rock, Frank gave a little laugh at something Paul said. Perhaps this kind of thing came with life experience, or maybe the real-life Frank was just as steady as he was in bed, but seeing him in the driver’s seat of Ezra’s car felt reassuring already.
He was in danger, and his plans were uncertain—but from the moment he’d stepped through the gate and touched Frank, he felt safe.
He tried to eavesdrop on the conversation, but only heard Paul saying something about a car.
“Does it have to be tonight?” Frank sighed, his thumb still caressing Ezra’s hand in a comforting fashion.
