Page 79 of Grind
Dex saluted Frank and turned on his heel.
“And don’t park in disabled parking spots, asshole!” Frank yelled after him, but a weird feeling he couldn’t pinpoint settled in his chest.
Didn’t he know someone who drove a McLaren? An uncommon car.
He sped up on the stairs and headed down the hallway, nodding at the nice nurse who periodically checked on Ezra, but the sense of apprehension agitated his insides like tiny needles that couldn’t do any damage yet caused never-ending discomfort. Squeezing the handle of the bag, he walked a bit faster, heading to the very last room on the left.
He didn’t even knock, too agitated by the time he reached the door. His palms were sweaty, his heart beat faster, because it just hit him who owned such a car.
Paul sat in Frank’s armchair, and looked up with a blank expression.
“You’ve got something of mine,” he said in a cool voice, pointing a small handgun straight at Ezra.
Chapter 25
Frank
Frank’sheartstoppedbeforedashing so fast he barely restrained himself from moving. Ezra did not seem hurt, but his hands were locked together with zip ties, and his eyes appeared bloodshot where they emerged from the bandages. Frank could only see some of it behind the big dressing protecting the healing nose, but even with the swelling, the change was stark enough to be noticed. Ezra’s fingertips trembled as he met Frank’s gaze, silently begging for help.
Don’t let him take me.
And Frank wouldn’t.
He would never. Even if Ezra chose to leave him behind like a bad dream. He wouldn’t be the first person to turn their back on Frank upon realizing that his heart was tar-black. But Frank loved him for real. Had for longer than he’d be willing to admit.
“Paul,” he said in a steady voice and shut the door behind him, placing the bag with food on the floor.
The reptile in human skin adjusted his position in the chair Frank had been sleeping in the last few nights, his pale eyes reminding Frank of water. It was as if there was no soul behind them. When the smooth-shaven head moved, it was like facing a Komodo dragon. And while time had marked Paul’s face with wrinkles and puffiness under the eyes, his hands were steady as if he were still the twenty-year-old stone-cold killer Frank met all those years ago.
“I could have taken him already but chose to wait for you to return, on account of the old days, but now that he lost his pretty face—”
“What the fuck do you want?” Frank asked, stepping closer, but his gaze kept drifting between all of Paul’s limbs, wary of what the bastard might do next. This man had the empathy of a crocodile, and he was just as efficient as a hunter. Frank knew better than to underestimate him.
Paul sighed and tapped the little gun against his thigh, making Ezra whine when the muzzle of the thing pointed at his head. “I had cameras in his apartment, Frank. I figured that maybe you wanted to keep him for a while, but enough’s enough. You’ve had your fun. He’s seen things he shouldn’t and needs to come with me. Remember who introduced you to him in the first place, old friend. I’m calling dibs,” he said with a smirk that showed all his teeth.
Frank couldn’t think straight anymore. The mere idea of this monster taking Ezra anywhere, let alone hurting him, of his cold eyes being the last thing Ezra saw before his life was extinguished, made Frank’s mind cloud with so much fury, he went straight for Paul’s throat.
Cold eyes widened, gaining focus a bit too late. For a horrible moment before Frank’s hands found Paul’s throat, the smell of gunpowder seemed almost inevitable, but Paul hesitated, and as Frank slammed his forehead against the reptile skull, the pistol clattered to the floor.
With his now free hands, Paul attempted to remove Frank’s fingers from his throat, but when he tried to shove them aside, Frank put all his weight on that damn neck. So maybe he’d end up tried for murder, but if they put him away, at least he’d rot behind bars knowing that Ezra was safe and free.
“He’s mine,” Frank gritted through his teeth, meeting Paul’s eyes without ever blinking. A surge of adrenaline hit him along with the electrifying power of making a man lose his breath.
Paul couldn't speak, but he understood. His red and purple face told Frank so.
Frank thought he was winning this deadly clash when Paul stopped wrestling his hands, but then the steel grip was on his balls, and when Paul put his force into the painful squeeze, dark spots blurred Frank’s vision.
“Motherfucker!” Frank yelped and stumbled back, fighting the nausea taking over his body. He didn’t have the time to focus on pain, but when he raised his head, ready for a counterattack, a plastic tray hit him square in the face, filling his vision with bright dots. Blood tasted bitter on his tongue as his nose and lips grew numb, but when Paul swung the tray his way again, Frank dove under it. The floor passed under them on fast forward, and just as the edge of the tray smashed into Frank’s back, Paul collided with the wall so hard the television set attached above gave a warning creak.
But the fucker was like a viper in attack mode now, and while older and smaller, Paul had experience in martial arts. Frank depended on his size and strength, so he squeezed Paul, trying to choke the breath out of his lungs, but Paul lashed out and stuck his fingers into a sensitive spot under Frank’s ribs.
Frank groaned and shoved at Paul’s hand, but that gave him enough wiggle room to slip out of Frank’s grasp like an eel. Frank reached for him right away, but only managed to rip the jacket off the bastard as he rolled to the bed, to Ezra’s pained squeal.
Seeing Ezra drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes made Frank's protective instincts ring in alarm, but this way he was out of Paul’s reach at least, so Frank hauled himself at the beast scrambling off the mattress with a low huff. If he could get both his hands on the bastard's head and trap his body against something, it would just take a bit of strength to break his neck.
What then?
He didn’t know, but Ezra would be safe.
