Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Why was breathing so very hard?
“So you didn’t recognize them?” Frank pulled his chair closer to sit right by the bed.
Ezra exhaled, flinching when a dull ache rippled through his chest. “No. You would have told me someone was coming. Then I figured I’d find you where you told me not to go. I saw the containers and—”
His thoughts sped, only to crash into blood and gore. He flinched, ripping his hand out of Frank’s grip as bits of reality clumsily fell into place, forming a string of events that ended with him falling into a void.
The room went cold.
“You kill people.”
Frank swallowed, and the smile disappeared from his face just like Dex’s had when he’d spotted Ezra in that container of horrors.
“It’s not that simple,” Frank said in a dull voice but didn’t try to touch Ezra again and watched him with yet more attention. It felt like being pinned to the ground by a hunter, and he was already injured.
If Frank wanted to, he could snap his neck right now, and there was nothing Ezra could do about it. “Just like Paul… and I didn’t see it,” he mumbled as the machine sped up its high-pitched complaints.
Frank entwined his thick fingers in his lap. “I’m not like Paul,” he said, but stared down at the floor like he was in fact guilty of everything Ezra accused him of. “I do some… bad things, but I wanted to shield you from it.”
“Shield me? You lied to me. And... they were bleeding someone out like a pig at your place. You were there and let it happen,” Ezra said, raising his voice as his entire body throbbed.
He couldn’t believe it had happened again.
He was so damn naive.
“Please. Sweetie. Don’t yell,” Frank said softly, so why did it sound like a threat? “It’s true. I deal with some bad people and help dispose of the mess they leave behind. But… They’re all criminals. They’re worth each other. I’m not helping any serial killers.”
“Dex was laughing as he played around with body parts,” Ezra said, flinching when pain jolted on the edge of his mouth. He lifted his good hand to touch it and felt… something there.
Medical tape?
Was his face okay?
Frank swallowed. “Dex is… He’s a little different. The people you saw were already dead though. And yes, I know how that must sound to you.”
It sounded psychotic. “What the hell is wrong with you all?” Ezra uttered, trying to shift farther away but discomfort made him fall right back into the sheets. He was trapped. By his own body. “And with me? You have a death factory in your backyard, and I didn’t notice…”
Frank kneaded his hand, never looking up. “I didn’t want you to see any of that. We’ve barely started talking about any future, and the issue with Paul isn’t sorted out yet.” Frank took a deep breath. “I’m not a threat to you, baby.”
Baby? Seriously?
Ezra’s chest tightened, and even though Frank was such a dangerous man, he could not hold his thoughts in as they came to him in giant, hot waves. “Why would I believe that? You lied about your job, why wouldn’t you lie about anything else?”
He couldn’t believe he’d felt so safe with Frank. Was that what it felt like to be in the eye of the storm?
“You wouldn’t have wanted me if you knew,” Frank said through gritted teeth, as if it was Ezra’s fault that people disappeared in Frank’s backyard.
“So you wanted to hack the system by lying to me?” Ezra asked, increasingly tense as Frank’s body language turned more defensive.
He’d slept in the same bed with this murderer for so many nights.
Frank reached for his hand. “Ezra… It’s still me, okay?”
He didn’t think before he jerked away so rapidly his body fought for balance above the floor. Frank pulled him back, but Ezra pushed his hand away as soon as he could. “Don’t!”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Frank sat back in the chair, wrapping his arms across his chest, and reminding Ezra how massive they were when his muscles bulged.
Had Frank really lifted a car to save him or was that some fucked-up dream?
“I bet you are. Now you can’t play Mr. Nice Guy anymore,” Ezra whispered, imagining a reality where he’d never gone to Paul’s place that day. If it hadn’t been for that fatal mistake, he’d be in LA already, enjoying the sunshine and the attention of his new sugar daddy.
He would have thought of Frank with fondness and never found out what he really was.
“I hope… um… you understand that you can’t tell anyone about what you saw?” Frank asked, and his expression settled into a mask of indifference. Or was it resignation? Ezra wasn’t sure.
Was that a threat? A chill spread through Ezra, and no matter how hard he tried to stop it, his hands began to shake as he remembered intestines falling onto his shoes.