Scars and Secrets (Loose Ends Book 1)
Page 10
A shrill sound blasted through the fog of sleep, but Israel ignored it, burrowing deeper into the warmth next to him. The noise didn’t go away though, and soon Reggie was tapping weakly on Israel’s chest.
“Is.”
“Hmm.” He rolled toward Reggie, eyes sealed shut.
“Get the phone,” Reggie mumbled.
“Wah—” Israel cracked one eyelid high enough to make out daylight. Fuck. Didn’t they just fall into bed two minutes ago?
“Phone, Is.” Reggie’s irritated voice rose. “Get it already. Shit.” He shifted away just as the sound came again.
Israel fumbled for the phone that sat on the nightstand near his head with just the one eye open. “Who dis?”
“Colin.”
He stiffened when he recognized Seraphina Cook’s voice. His birth mother. He’d told her not to call him by that name, the one she’d given him at birth before he’d been stolen. Or to hear her tell it, given away. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was how she’d gotten his number.
“Colin?” Her tone wasn’t as sure this time.
“How’d you get my number?” He sat up, fully awake, both eyes wide open. Next to him Reggie rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes, gaze curious.
“I can be resourceful when I want something,” Seraphina said.
Fuck. He rubbed the top of his head. He never quite knew how to deal with her. Enemy or ally. More often than not she was the enemy, especially after meeting Donovan. But… “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
He frowned as he got out of bed and picked his boxers up off the floor. “About what?”
“Your brother.” She paused for three heartbeats. “Your father.”
Not a subject he ever wanted to discuss with Seraphina Cook. He used his shoulder to hold the phone to his ear as he stepped into his underwear. “Say what you need to say then.”
She chuckled. “Meet me in an hour.” She named a place in Brooklyn. “We can have breakfast.”
The last thing he wanted was to let her think he was open to any kind of mother-son relationship. But the truth was, he didn’t know where he stood on that issue. Sometimes the decision was firm in his mind, a no-brainer. And other times…
“See you there.” She hung up, and he stood in the middle of the bedroom staring at the phone in his palm while Reggie watched him from his perch on the bed.
“What was that?”
Israel took a deep breath and faced his lover. “You wanna go out for breakfast?”
“Uh…” Reggie squinted at him. “Not really. Who was that on the phone?”
“Seraphina.” Israel’s mouth twisted. “She invited me out to breakfast to talk about my brother.” He paused much like she had. “And my father.”
One of Reggie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really.”
“Really.”
“And you’re going?” Reggie got to his feet and approached him. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Israel laughed, but it got stuck in his throat. “I don’t know what I’m doing, that’s why you’re coming with me.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Israel smiled as he yanked Reggie close. “Think about it, you finally get to meet my mother.”
Reggie hugged him, body warm, smelling like sleep and the sex they’d had late into the night. “That shit’s not even in the top one hundred on my bucket list,” Reggie mumbled into his neck.
“If I’m going, you’re coming with me.” He needed back up. He needed Reggie there, otherwise he just might do something in retaliation for what he’d seen in his brother’s eyes. On his face. For the words Donovan had shared with Israel, and the million words he’d held back.
Reggie loosened his hold on Israel and lifted his head. “You gonna tell her about us?” He didn’t sound too happy about that.
“I mean…” Israel shrugged. “I’m not gonna volunteer anything.”
“I don’t trust her.” Reggie kissed Israel’s chin. “So yes, I’m coming.”
The place Seraphina picked was in Clinton Hill. A coffee shop. The entire neighborhood was different from back in the eighties, when it was a fucking war zone of drugs and crime. Israel remembered that time with a nostalgic nod to an era gone by. Streets that used be littered with needles and crack vials were all cleaned up.
The contrasts between then and now were striking, but he shook that off as he strolled into the place with Reggie at his side, keeping step, protecting his back. Israel couldn’t even lie, Seraphina Cook brought out a vulnerability in him he didn’t like. She was unlike anyone he’d dealt with before, male or female.
And she was his mother.
She sat at a table in the middle of the place, sipping from a white cup. She looked…stunning. Not beautiful. Stunning. With her head damn near bald, lips a dark purple and wearing a snow white ankle length coat over a white pantsuit, in deference to the twenty-six degrees outside. She sat poised, regal. Skin as dark as his. Eyes covered in reflective sunglasses.
She looked powerful. But none of that shit mattered, when he looked at her all he saw was his mother.
“Damn,” Reggie muttered next to him. “I think that’s what the female version of you looks like.”
Seraphina’s head lifted when they reached the table. Her lips curved. “Colin.” She removed the sunglasses and turned to Reggie, smile falling away. “I see you brought a friend.” The disapproval in her voice helped clear some of the emotion that always filled him whenever he came face to face with her.
“This is Reggie. He goes where I go.”
Reggie’s lips quirked.
“I see.” She glanced from Israel to Reggie and back before waving a hand. “Sit, gentlemen.” She motioned to the girl behind the counter. “You should try the scones here, they’re quite possibly the best I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, yeah?” Reggie lifted an eyebrow.
The fuck? Israel grunted. Did he look like the type who cared about scones? “You wanted to talk,” he told Seraphina pointedly. “I’m listening.”
“I also wanted to eat. We’ll eat then talk.” Seraphina glanced at Reggie again. “I don’t think you’ll want your friend around for what I have to say, Colin.”
Reggie didn’t pay her any mind, he was too busy placing an order for those scones, but Israel sat back and crossed his arms. “The next time you call me Colin, don’t bother calling me. At all. Because that’s not my name, and second—” He leaned forward. “There is nothing about me or my life Reggie doesn’t know. So we’re getting him those scones you just mentioned, and while he eats that you’ll tell me what you really brought me here for.”
Reggie chuckled.
Seraphina nodded slowly, gaze jumping from Israel to Reggie. He didn’t think it would take her long to put it together, figure out Israel and Reggie were more than friends. If she hadn’t already. He didn’t care really.
“I haven’t been to Brooklyn in a long time,” she said finally. “I miss the energy.”
What the fuck did—
“Of course, Coney Island has always been a favorite of mine.” She sipped her coffee delicately. “Been to Coney Island lately?” she asked over the rim of the cup.
Reggie stiffened next to him. Seconds before Israel realized what she’d said. What it meant. Donovan was in Coney Island, holed up in that condo with his husband. Seraphina was telling Israel she knew that.
Reggie was right. She was the female version of Israel. Full of balls.
“It’s winter,” Reggie said before Israel could open his mouth. “Coney Island isn’t as fun. You wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t know.” She wiped her lips with a napkin, leaving a smear of purple behind. “It’s still Coney Island.”
“If you so much as set foot in Coney Island I will know,” Israel told her softly. “And I will make you the sorriest you’ve ever been.”
She laughed, eyes twinkling. “Col—Uh, Israel. There’s really no need for the threats. I’m simply saying—”
Man. Israel lost his heart for the man beside him all over again. He dropped his right hand under the table, touching Reggie’s left knee. Stroking him lightly.
Seraphina’s expression turned unreadable. “You’re involved.” She cocked her head and held Israel’s gaze. “You’re lovers.”
Wasn’t a question so he felt no need to answer.
“Mark will shit himself when he finds out both his sons are homosexual.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table as she lowered her tone. “I don’t really care about your sex life,” she whispered. “Hell, back in the day I enjoyed my fair share of women—”
“Lady. Lady. You can keep that shit to yourself. We’re not that close,” Israel barked. The fuck. Really?
Reggie snickered beside him, and Israel tossed him a glare.
“So I know now that you’re a couple.” Seraphina smiled, and really, she was just stunning. Evil and fucked up, but stunning. “Good for you.”
“We just gonna shoot the shit or are you gonna tell us why we’re here?” Israel asked.
“What about why you’re here?” Reggie nodded to Seraphina. “Aren’t Dutch and the Feds hunting you?”
“Dutch and I have come to an understanding. I promise not to harm Donovan Cintron—or anyone he cares about—in any way, and I get Mark.” Her face was serious when she turned to Israel. “I’m going after your father.”
What was he supposed to say to that? “Okay?”
“He needs to pay for what he’s done to us, and we can’t let him get to the White House.”
Who was this we she kept referring to? “This has what to do with me?”
“I’m not out to hurt your brother,” she told him softly. “Even before I made that deal, I wasn’t going to hurt you like that.”
“So what was that bit about Coney Island, you letting me know you could get at him if you wanted to?”
“I know he came to see you.”
He’d been reacting to her like a son to his mother, but this shit was over. “You watching me?”
“I protect my own.” She didn’t look away from the steady gaze he pinned her with, nor did she sound apologetic.
“I’ve been protecting myself since I was ten years old. Don’t mistake this civil conversation for something it’s not. You’re no one to me, and I won’t hesitate to treat you that way.” He stood, and Reggie did the same. “I stared into my brother’s face and saw the wreckage of what you left behind. There’s never been a choice, but if there were, I’d choose him. I’d fight for him, and I’d protect him from you.”
She didn’t speak, but he saw the effect his words had on her.
“The role of homicidal mother has been filled a long time ago. I don’t need you in my life, Seraphina.”
“You might not need me, but I need you.” Her eyes grew sad and heavy. “I need you, and that won’t change simply because you want it to. Wait until you have a child of your own.” She glanced at Reggie before turning back to Israel.
“This isn’t about you,” Reggie told her firmly. “It’s about what your son needs. Which is for you to fall back.”
The danger Seraphina brought was way darker than what Israel had endured with Josephine Jermaine, the woman who’d stolen baby Israel from a hospital in Jamaica and raised him as her own. She’d been sick, all messed up in the head. Seraphina was sane. Cold and calculating, and so much like Israel he didn’t know how to deal with that. She claimed she was no threat, but he couldn’t be sure.
That was the scariest thing of all. The last time he’d been scared like this, Israel had been ten years old, when Josephine used her love for him to slaughter his baby sister and stepfather.
“Let’s bounce,” he told Reggie.
“Lead the way.” Reggie picked up the last scone off the table, and they headed for the door.
“Israel.”
He didn’t want to, but he still stopped when she called his name.
“You’re my son, and I love you.”
He’d made it this close without feeling like he’d been ripped open. This close. He put one foot in front of the other, Reggie at his side in silent support, and they made their way outside into the eye watering cold. Then they were at the SUV. Reggie got into the driver’s seat, and thank God, because Israel was in no condition.
None.
They rode in silence. Israel needed to clear his head. Her words were loud in there, echoing. She loved him. Another woman had loved him and she’d fucking destroyed him. What would Seraphina Cook do to him? Whatever it was, it would be worse.
He just knew that. He just felt that, in his chest, in his bones.
Even knowing all that didn’t help the part of him that wanted her, wanted what she seemed all too willing to give. Her love. Motherly love. He didn’t think he’d ever had it. He’d had obsession from Josephine. What would love feel like?
He’d thought himself too old for that shit, but every time he saw Seraphina he ached for it. He always rejected her while aching for her. He chose Donovan, but that choice stung. Sibling over parent. Brother over mother. He deserved better than what he’d had, but so did his brother. They deserved family.
“Is.” Reggie touched him, a hand on his shoulder, bringing Israel back.
He jerked and blinked. They weren’t in Queens. They were at the Reggie’s old apartment, where he used to live before they moved in together.
“Come on.” Reggie didn’t wait for Israel, hopping out the vehicle and striding to the building’s entrance. Israel got out and went after him.
“Why are we here?” He watched as a few guys hanging out in the lobby called out to Reggie. His lover greeted them without stopping, stepping into the waiting elevator. “Reg.”
“You need a minute,” Reggie told him. “I’m giving you a minute.” He punched in the number to the floor he used to live on.
“Wait.” Israel grabbed his hand. “Why are we here, going to your floor?”
“Apartment’s still there,” Reggie said.
Israel frowned. “Thought you’d given it up.”
“No.” Reggie shook his head. “I still pay rent here.”
What? The elevator opened, and they walked out. “Why?” How come he never knew about this?
Reggie shrugged. “Figured I might need it one day.” He stopped at his door and used one of the keys on his keychain to open the apartment.
Need it? Israel stepped inside behind Reggie and slammed the door closed. “What does that mean?”
Reggie turned on the lights. The place smelled musky, but nothing had changed. All the furniture and shit remained where they’d been the last time Israel had been in there.
“You been coming here?” He looked around before turning to Reggie. “You been what, keeping this in your back pocket in case something happened and you had to leave me?”
Reggie tossed his keys onto the counter separating the kitchen from the living room, and Israel grabbed him, pushing Reggie front-first into the counter.
“You been planning escape routes, Reg?”
“Is, I just—”
“Don’t you fucking answer that question.” He yanked at Reggie, turning him so they were face to face. His lover’s lips were parted, eyes and nostrils wide. “If you answer that question…” He started shaking. “Swear to God, Reg. If you answer that question…”
“I don’t have escape routes,” Reggie said. “All I have is you.”
Israel kissed him. Hard. Wet. Mouth open. Tongue sliding through and in, tasting Reggie like fuck! His hands shook as he grasped Reggie’s face, holding him tight, making it painful. It had to be, this time. Right n
ow, it had to be painful. It had to hurt, this pleasure. He was drowning, drowning, and Reggie was the only thing, the only one to cling to.
Israel pinned him against the counter, trapping him while loving on him as Reggie gave him his life, fingers tearing at Israel’s belt, yanking it away, unzipping him. The ferocity in their kiss burned through him, fire in his blood, drugging. Israel took what he realized Reggie was giving, an outlet, a safe place for the dark storm inside.
So he let it out, pulling away despite Reggie’s whimper and their heavy panting. His jeans fell around his ankles, belt buckle jarring. He stepped out of it and in his t-shirt, boxers and Timbs, he grabbed Reggie by the front of his shirt and dragged him the extra couple feet to the kitchen. There he thrust him against the table. Chairs knocked against each other, rocking briefly before settling back down.
Reggie stayed there, half on half off the table, knuckles white as he held on. Israel didn’t linger. He grabbed what he wanted from the nearby cupboard and when he turned back, Reggie was naked, panting, lying back, legs wide.
Open.
Despite the shit clouding Israel’s head, all he saw was Reggie. Nobody but him, and them, in this space. He wanted calm. He wanted balance. All he had now, though was chaos. And somewhere to lay that down.
Here.
With this man.
He dropped to his knees between Reggie’s splayed thighs, opening him wider. He jammed a finger, dry into Reggie who cried out, arching, shaking. Israel poured the oil on Reggie’s balls, letting it slide down to where he wanted as he screwed in another finger. Hard. Without mercy. He didn’t have mercy. He didn’t have finesse.
He had an ache in his chest and a fire in his belly. Emotion in his throat, and a lover slamming back against the fingers in his ass.
Fresh outta finesse.
Reggie’s noises would likely annoy the neighbors. They were just getting started though. Neighbors would have to settle in for a fucking audio show.
“Is.” Reggie stroked his cock, ass lifting off the creaking table. “Oh fuck. Go deeper.”
He did, ramming three fingers knuckles deep, grunting, sweating at the heat in there. The tight clasp that stuttered his breathing. He pulled out.
“No. No.” Reggie cried out. “Is. Fuck, please. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”