Page 42 of Forged in Rain

Why should I help you?

Rainbow, you better fucking be at your house

Fuck. I’m coming your way right now

Rolling my eyes, I contemplate my options. I can tell Cyn and see how it shakes down or keep one more secret to myself. I can’t continue to do this alone, but John having Cyn’s number must mean something bad, and I’m not sure I can handle the fallout.

So what the fuck do I do?

Cyn: I’m on your front porch. If you don’t want me beating down the door, you better answer now

Rain: Hold on

Skipping down the stairs, I glance at Pam’s room warily, but the door is still closed tight before stepping onto the porch and closing the door quietly behind me.

Cyn stands with his back against the porch pole, with his arms crossed over his substantial chest, and with a pulse of pleasure, I look away.

What the hell?

I’m faced with Jagger and Iris’ lies, and I still can’t not admire the dick standing before me.

“What’s going on?” he asks stiffly, and I turn away to school my expression before settling into one of the two chairs on the porch.

Dusk is upon us, and I admire the brilliant orange hue lighting the sky before saying, quietly, “What do you want?”

He shifts, and I glance at him sideways, my poor heart lurching when he frowns. “You texted me. Remember?”

“Yeah, and you told me you wouldn’t help me,” I huff. “You’re only here because you thought I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, until this fucking fiasco is over, I’m in charge of you,” he snarls, stalking over and looming threateningly. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Staring into his face, I search for something, but he’s a vault, and I don’t have the key. Still, I ask because I’m desperate, and I have nothing left to lose. “Why did John have your number?”

Shifting, he says, “I don’t know.”

“How’s that possible?” I ask, raising my hands.

Grabbing my chin, he pulls my face up roughly and demands, “What’s going on?”

“How could you not know?” I whisper, close to tears. I’d like to think I wasn’t sleeping literally with the enemy, and I’m not sure how much more I can take as it is.

“Beauty,” he chuffs before his face darkens, and he drops my chin. “Whatever you may think of me, I didn’t know John, and I don’t fucking sell chicks for money. That number you called is reserved for one person, and it wasn’t fucking John.”

“Who was it for?” I ask, shivering in the cool air, although his stern, unyielding expression may have had a hand in it.

“You don’t need to know.”

Rolling my eyes, I look away, staring into nothing, and he studies me for a moment before saying again, “What’s going on?”

“Why can’t you tell me?” I ask stubbornly, flinching when he swings toward me abruptly.

He frowns, dropping his hand, and I shrink away from his ice-cold expression as he says, “I don’t hit girls. I can’t fucking believe I’m even here right now. Did you find out anything about Iris?”

“No,” I lie, watching miserably as his mouth curls at the corner, and he says, “Then we’re done here.”

“What am I supposed to believe when, every time I turn around, I’m learning something bad about you?” I whisper.

Stopping stiffly, he stares into the evening sky before saying simply, “I guess you believe whatever the fuck you want.”

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