Rafe

by Jo Raven

  Oh fuck…

  “Excuse me a sec.” I retreat into the corridor, and step into the bathroom, my head pounding. I brace one hand on the wall over the toilet and take the piss of the century as I try to figure out what’s rattling around inside my head.

  I don’t want her to leave. I want her to stay. With me.

  Fucking hell, I can’t be thinking this way, feeling this way, because…because…

  Christ. Wait. Because what? I’m not going into the fight club. Nothing dangerous about being with me now. As the revelation sinks in, I close my eyes, waiting for my head to clear. For the facts to line up.

  My plan has failed. I’ll tell the police what I know about the guy with the hand tattoo, but chances are he’ll vanish before the cops turn up. Guys like him smell cops a mile away.

  On the other hand…I could have Meg.

  If she wants me, that is, and that’s not a given. Who’d want to be with a basket case like me, anyway?

  But God, I wish that. To go to sleep with her every night, wake up in the morning with my arms around her, talk and shower and have awesome sex and go out to eat… Look after her, hear her laugh and let her remind me how bright life can be.

  Sounds so good. Makes me feel so light I could float right off the ground.

  Scares me to death. So much easier to get used to pleasure than to pain, and then, when the pain returns, you can’t take it. I know. I’ve been there. I lost everyone. And now I can’t live only on pain anymore.

  She was right. Now I want more.

  “Rafe?” Her soft voice startles me. She’s right behind me, wrapping her arms around me as I tuck myself into my jeans. “Morning. You slept forever, clear through the day and the night.”

  “What’s everyone doing here? Why’s Zane so damn happy? I…”

  Something is nagging at my mind, something I should be doing… Something to do with Armin.

  “They were looking for you.” Her curves press into me and jeez, I’m half-hard already, my body only too happy to have her close, even if my mind is going around in useless circles. “Zane said he had something to tell you. Good news.”

  Good news.

  Damage Control.

  The memory hits me like a sledgehammer. Armin saying he won’t sell it, that he’ll leave it to me.

  Breathless, I turn around. “We’re keeping Damage. Meg, we’re keeping the shop!”

  “Keeping it?” She frowns, and yeah, of course, she didn’t know about this, as I never told her.

  Zane. Tyler. Goddammit, I have to tell them, right now.

  I pull Meg to me, and kiss her, long and hard. Her eyes are glazed when I finally draw back, her breathing uneven. “We need to talk. Later.”

  God, I hope I’m not wrong about this. Hope she wants to be with me. Can’t remember ever wishing for something so hard.

  As I walk back into the living room, Meg’s hand in mine, I hear them talking about Audrey and Asher. Apparently she’s still at the hospital, and a sting of worry jabs me.

  Later.

  “We have Damage,” I announce to the room in general, and grin, waiting for their response. “Armin agreed to leave it to me. I signed the authorization and he’ll pass it on to his lawyer.”

  Silence stretches.

  How fucking weird. No shouts of joy. No laughter. No smiles. Not sure what I expected, but this…

  I look from Erin’s to Dakota’s face, then to Tyler and Dylan who’re now standing by the window, and finally Zane who’s holding a mug with kitties on it.

  He puts it down slowly on the coffee table, his face lines tensing. The stunned silence stretches uncomfortably.

  Okay. What now?

  Zane and Tyler exchange a strange, long look, and finally it registers that everyone seems sort of…horrified.

  “What the hell’s going on?” My enthusiasm evaporates, and when Meg flinches, I realize I’m crushing her hand. I let it go and round up on Zane, fists clenched. “Okay, Z-man, spill. Now.”

  “Rafe, man…” Zane pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting a headache of his own. “Damage is yours.”

  “Yeah? That’s what I’m trying to tell you, so what’s with the long faces?”

  Honestly, sometimes…

  “It was yours, fucker, from the start. Your aunt left it to you in her will. So what exactly did your fucking uncle make you sign?”

  I take a step back and stagger. Suddenly Meg is there, her arm around me, her hand on my chest.

  “I don’t understand,” I stammer. “What are you talking about?”

  Zane sucks on the barbell in his tongue and shakes his head.

  Aunt Marnie left me Damage? But then…

  There’s a sick feeling in my stomach. I thought Armin wouldn’t be that kind, but he’s my uncle, scum that he is, and I’d craved that kindness. Wanted to believe him. What this means…

  “Your aunt left you Damage Control,” Zane says. “It was yours from the moment you turned eighteen. You trusted your fucking uncle, but I don’t. So I dug deeper, asked around. Found a friend of your aunt’s who was mentioned in the will. She was glad your aunt left you Damage, fucker. ’Cuz it was your home, now.”

  Can’t be…

  “It is your home. And ours.” Zane’s voice drops, and his eyes glitter. “You deserve it, man. You put your damn heart in this, and your aunt knew it. And we know it, too. You’re a good person, always thinking of others first. You gave us a home, and we’re by your side, always. Hope you know this, goddammit.”

  The room is spinning in slow circles. My knees feel like water. Meg pulls me toward the sofa and I sink down on it.

  “Fuck,” I whisper and put my heavy head in my hands. “Then what was this all about? What’s Armin playing at?”

  Meg curls up next to me, puts her arms around me and holds on. Reminding me not all is bad in the world. Keeping me together.

  “Good question.” Dylan shoves his hands in his pant pockets and gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “What exactly was that paper he made you sign?”

  “I bet he had you transfer the shop title to him,” Tyler says grimly. “He threatened to take Damage from you, then played the good guy and made you sign it over to him. That motherfucker tricked you into giving him exactly what he wanted.”

  I moan, dig my thumbs into my throbbing temples. “Jesus. I screwed up.”

  Because if I hadn’t signed that damn piece of paper, Damage would be mine now. I thought I’d won it back, when in fact I gave it away. My shop.

  To Armin, of all people, the uncle I thought I could trust but who is a fucking slimy worm.

  Damn him. Life’s fucking me up again. I’m cold, down to my bones, and bile rises in my throat. I bend over, fighting not to puke on Meg’s carpet.

  “Here, have some hot coffee,” Meg says, pressing a warm mug into my hands. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  “What he needs is some of this,” Dylan mutters, and something cold replaces the warm mug.

  I stare at the small metallic flask. “Whiskey?”

  “The hell, Dylan?” Zane grumbles.

  Dylan shrugs. “Took it with me to celebrate the good news. Guess bad news demands it even more.”

  Unscrewing the lid, I take a sip. My eyes water at the burn, but then pleasant warmth spreads through my chest. I cough, take another sip.

  “Shit.” I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and give the flask back to Dylan. “What a fuck-ass way to start the day.”

  Tyler perches on the armrest of the sofa, legs spread, and lets his hands hang between his knees. His dark hair’s growing longer again, falling in his eyes.

  “He’s the executor of your aunt’s will,” he says. “And he didn’t notify you. That’s illegal. That should land him in big trouble.”

  “You can sue him,” Zane says, his tall Mohawk cutting a fantastical shadow against the window and the morning light. “I mean, it’s not like he didn’t have contact with you or couldn’t locate you.”

 
“But a lawsuit could take months.” I reach blindly for the coffee mug, still in Meg’s hands, and she passes it to me. “Even years.”

  “Or we go find the fucker and lay out the situation to him. Loser won’t know what hit him when he finds out we know the truth. Wham.” Zane slams his fist on his open palm.

  “Lay out the situation.” I snort into my coffee. God, I want to crawl back into Meg’s bed, into her arms, and sleep for another week. “What, threaten him?”

  Dakota and Erin are watching with wide eyes. Erin whispers something in Dakota’s ear and they grimace.

  “We’d come, too,” she says, “but I kinda think the guys are more intimidating. We may spoil the picture a little.”

  I stare at them. They’d come? Although I see what she means by spoiling the picture. Both girls are slender, tiny, really, dressed in flared skirts and colorful sweaters. They’re like china dolls.

  Damn. Can’t believe what the guys are suggesting.

  “Get dressed, fucker.” Zane turns his back to me and some sort of secret communication goes on between the three guys, because then they all turn toward me. “Let’s get this asshole.” He winks. “And congrats, you got yourself three bodyguards.”

  “What the hell makes you think he’ll back off?” I want to throw the mug at Zane’s smug face, throw it at the wall, kick and smash and yell out my frustration.

  But Meg is wrapped around me, her soft breasts crushed to my side, and an odd calm falls over me, like a warm quilt.

  “Have some faith, man,” Tyler says. He stands slightly taller than the rest of us, his shoulders wider. “In us.”

  In this brotherhood of pain and ink. Well, then…

  “All right.” I put down my mug, hug Meg close one last time, and push to my feet. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  “Be careful,” Meg whispers and stands on tiptoe to press a kiss to my mouth as I shrug into my jacket.

  Her lips are sweet with the hot chocolate she was drinking, and I grab her and kiss her thoroughly, exploring her mouth, pressing her to me.

  “Will you wait for me?” I ask against her mouth. Jesus, this isn’t the way I was imagining this conversation going down—more like pounding her into her until she screamed my name, and then bringing it up sort of subtly.

  This isn’t subtle. Dammit.

  But she smiles.

  “Yeah.” Her voice is slightly husky. “I’ll wait.” She’s out of breath, and her eyes are so dark with desire and something else, something deeper, I crush her to me.

  “Are you mine?” I whisper.

  “I am,” she says softly, and man, curse Armin and his damn schemes for taking me away from this girl right now.

  Despite throats being cleared around us, I kiss her again, long and deep until I’m sure her taste will linger, ground me, remind me she’ll be here when I return.

  We finally pull apart, and she sends me another warm smile.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Tyler says, standing by the open door. “Let’s get this over with. I want to swing by the hospital afterward, see how Audrey is doing.”

  “Just…” Meg’s delicate brows draw together. “You sure this is safe?”

  “I’m sure,” I tell her, to erase that crease in her smooth brow.

  “We’re just gonna talk to this Armin guy,” Tyler mutters. “There won’t be any ass kicking, not if I can help it.”

  She doesn’t seem to hear him. She looks into my eyes, strokes my cheek. “I’ll wait for you. Told you, if you need anything, you only have to call me. Don’t…” She swallows. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  My heart hammers. I know exactly what she’s telling me and what she’s asking. “I promise.”

  Her smile this time is big and bright. “Good.”

  She waves at us as we go down the stairs, a beautiful shadow, and yet she burns, branded in the back of my eyelids like an afterimage of the sun.

  Mine. I’m coming back, because I have her to come back to. The thought clears my mind, focuses it. I’m getting Damage Control back, forget about the man with the hand tattoo who may or may not be my family’s killer—what would be the odds, anyway?—and set my life back on course.

  Soon.

  ***

  We pile up in Zane’s old pick-up truck, silent and moody. I sit in the back with Dylan. He claps me on the shoulder, and I hide a wince.

  Tyler who’s riding shotgun is staring out of the window, humming a tune, and Zane shoots me a half-grin through the rearview mirror.

  “We’ll get Damage back,” he says. “Don’t you worry, man.”

  Yeah, right. I grunt and try to unclench my hands from the fists they’ve curled into. This is too big a thing not to obsess over. If Armin doesn’t see reason, we’re in for the long haul, and that would suck balls—for us and for the Damage Boyz.

  The responsibility for them weighs on my shoulders. I’m the one making sure they have a place to stay, a place to work or learn, enough money for food and medicine. The money comes from Damage Control. Who will take care of them if it closes down, even for a year?

  I’ll have to convince fucking Armin to back off.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket, then starts ringing. I take it out and connect the call, gazing absently out of the car window. “Yeah?”

  “Rafe Vestri?”

  “Yes.” I frown. The voice is familiar. “Who is this?”

  “Colt. Colt Manson.”

  Colt. I jerk upright in my seat. “Hey, man. Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

  “Surprise.” He chuckles. “Wasn’t sure you’d hear from me, either, after our last convo. But the thing is…” His voice rises and falls as if he’s walking. “You’re in. One of the fighters is out with a broken leg and arm. You’ll replace him.”

  I shake my head, then realize what I’m doing and force myself to stop. “What?”

  “You heard me. Be here tomorrow night. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I haven’t.” Have I? “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  Dylan is staring at me, his forehead creased, and I change the cell to my other ear.

  “Where will I find you?” I ask.

  “I’ll find you. Just be there tomorrow night at nine.”

  And the line goes dead.

  “Rafe, hey…” Dylan is eyeing me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Be where? Where are you going and why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

  Zane parks the truck in front of Armin’s building and turns, throwing an arm over the back of the seat. “Fucker, you’d better start talking. We aren’t going in unless you spill.”

  Shit.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. Damn, I have to tell them. Meg was right. I can’t do this alone, and my dark slide this past week showed me just that.

  Fuck, I mean, I’ve seen it with the guys, too. We all try to be strong and shit when things go haywire, but without each other, we’re weak. There’s a reason for packs. Lone wolves don’t survive for long.

  I slump back in my seat. “Okay, fine. Christ.” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s about the scum that killed my family.”

  Silence twines around us like a rope, squeezing. Everyone’s staring at me with wide eyes.

  “They never caught him,” Zane finally says. “Fuck, Rafe. What’s this about?”

  “I think I might have found him.”

  “What the hell?” Tyler mutters.

  The guys share incredulous looks, and shit, they won’t like my story.

  “I’ll tell you more. Later.” I rub my eyes. “Let’s get this over with, first, and I will.”

  Zane glares, hesitates. Then he nods. “Fine. It’s a deal. You guys are witnesses in case he tries to wiggle his way out of this.”

  “You’re an insufferable prick,” I mutter.

  Zane blows me a kiss, and I give him the finger.

  “Get a room, you two,” Dylan mutters, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door. “Co
me on.”

  We make our way inside and ring the intercom to Armin’s place. He answers, I identify myself, and he lets us up.

  His door is open when we arrive, and boy does he look surprised when we all stalk into his apartment.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” he sputters. “You can’t just march in here. I—”

  “We know what you did,” Zane says without preamble.

  Armin’s hazel eyes narrow. “Know what?”

  “That you never told Rafe that Damage Control is his. That you tried to take it from him. That you tricked him into signing a title transfer.”

  Armin’s face turns red. “Get out of my house right now.”

  Tyler steps in front of us, his powerful physique dwarfing Armin. “We thought you’d invite us for coffee. We are your nephew’s family.”

  “He has no family.” Armin spits, hands flailing.

  “Well, not you, of course.” Tyler cocks his head to the side. “You’re just a worthless piece of trash. But he does have a family, and you’re looking at it.”

  “Get out!”

  I step in front of Tyler. This is my fight, and although I appreciate their presence and their support, I need to do this.

  “I want you to give me back the paper you tricked me into signing two days ago.”

  “You signed it!” He’s so red I wonder if he’ll have a stroke and die right here, at my feet. I can’t muster any emotion at the conjured image. “It’s too late.”

  My stomach twists. Don’t know why it hurts to hear him admit it. After all, I knew it was the truth, and yet…

  My own uncle betrayed me.

  “You’d rather go to court? Have everyone know what you did? Friends, family?” Anger is building inside my chest, and it warms me up. “We’ll put your name all over the papers. The uncle who fucked his own nephew over, his own flesh and blood, for money to pay off his gambling debts. You sure you want that?”

  “It’s done.” His gaze flicks to the desk at the other end of the room, then back to me. “The shop should have come to me anyway. Stupid Marnie, leaving a shop to a kid.” His eyes flick back to the desk, and this time I turn to look as well.

  “I think the paper is in the desk drawer,” I say, and Zane and Dylan are already moving that way.

  “What are you doing?” Armin yells, but Tyler steps in his way when he tries to follow them. “I’ll sue your punk asses!”