Page 52 of Nailed

When Brock spoke next, he didn’t respond to me. His words and glare were fixed on Rafe. “I want you off of my site. Now.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked. “I’m not about to beg for scraps, Lawson. You want me gone, I’m gone.”

He grabbed his toolkit and started to move towards the door but I stopped him with a solid hand to the chest, blocking his path.

“Not like this,” I told him. He avoided eye contact, his gaze skirting off to the side. I now felt desperate to know the truth, especially if things were so bad that Brock was willing to kick Rafe off the site. Had he not once been the one fighting to keep him on the crew when I wanted to send him packing?

Brock, too, avoided looking at me, his back straight like he was still expecting Rafe to be a threat if he let his guard down for even a moment. I couldn’t understand what went wrong. Just a few days ago, everything had felt damn near perfect.

I looked at Callum helplessly. His brows were drawn together, his hands on his hips and head lowered.

“The big boss called Brock this morning. He reported a formal complaint filed against Rafe for this project,” he said. Even Callum sounded different to his usual charming, happy self. He sounded…defeated.

“A formal complaint about what?” I asked, genuinely perplexed. “And from who?”

There were only three people who were capable of filing a complaint against anyone on the crew.

Callum hesitated. “Apparently someone called in to complain that he stole from you.”

The bombshell landed like a nuke. It felt like my head was suddenly submerged underwater, the shock of what he just said rendering me temporarily speechless. I turned to Rafe now, moving my hand from his chest to his arm and clutching it tightly. “I swear that I didn’t report anything.”

What Callum didn’t have to add was that something like this would not only affect Rafe’s job with Cornerstone, but his parole too. The fragile silence in the room testified to the fact that everyone here recognized that.

Rafe finally looked at me now, his face a blank mask except for those expressive eyes. They hardened, two blue pools of simmering rage.

“I know you had nothing to do with it. It was him.” He spat the word like it was venom, like he couldn’t even bring himself to say Brock’s name. Brock clenched a fist but Rafe wasn’t letting up. Instead, he turned the full-force of his anger to the foreman. “You’re obviously jealous about me and Lauren, aren’t you? You know exactly what’s going on here and you can’t fucking stand it. You’ve been wanting me off this site since the renovation started.”

“Watch yourself, Merrick,” Brock growled.

“Oh but it’s not just jealousy, is it? Working with an ex-con is evidently not good for your white-bread, American Boy image. Would’ve been nice not to be a bitch about it, though,” Rafe said recklessly.

The tension bubbled over from a roiling boil to a violent eruption of testosterone and frustration.

Brock lunged at Rafe. Callum was quick as a whip, immediately jumping in to restrain Brock and only someone with his quiet but raw strength would’ve been able to hold him back. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do the same with Rafe if he really decided to go for Brock, but I did my best to wedge myself between them so that he’d have to get through me first and thank God, he thought better of it.

Brock fought against Callum’s grip, eventually shoving him off. But something in him had snapped. He pulled away with a snarl, then pointed an accusing finger at Rafe, his usual calm exterior cracked beyond recognition.

“I had every fucking opportunity to throw you under the bus!” he yelled. “Every fucking opportunity! You think I was obligated to be nice about you in those weekly meetings with your parole officer? He was looking for a reason to book you again. And I stuck my neck out for you every time! But I wanted to give you a shot. I vouched for you again and again and this is the thanks I get?”

He sounded almost wounded in his anger, and I understood that this wasn’t about ego. Brock felt affronted. He was a man who took his integrity very seriously, and for Rafe to have essentially spat on it with his accusation was enough to drive him insane.

And truthfully, I knew that Brock wouldn’t do something like that. Even in his jealousy, he never struck me as the insecure or petty type.

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. I could feel his body deflate beneath my hands as he reluctantly listened to what Brock had to say. And he wasn’t done.

Brock threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t give a shit about what happens in your personal life, Merrick. But what I do care about is what you bring to my worksite every single day you’re on my crew. How am I supposed to trust my third guy when you won’t even be honest with me about what’s really going on?”

“They’re after me again, okay!” Rafe shouted.

That took even me aback. My hand slowly dropped from his arm.

Callum’s body was lightly touching mine where we stood between them, together forming a barricade of sorts. That touch continued to anchor me like it always did. We moved from our position, still close enough to jump in if things continued to escalate, but far enough so that all four of us were able to see one another.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed that it was shaking.

“I know you saw it. The same car parked outside the firehouse everyday, arriving just when I show up for work and leaving just as I clock out. Every. Single. Day.” He closed his eyes briefly, then took a deep breath. His next words spilled like a confession, his voice wavering in and out of confidence. “It’s the guys I went to prison for. Or I should say, the ones who put me there. You all know the story but not the details. It wasn’t even my idea and I was against it from the get-go. But that didn’t matter, not to Nick.”

I looked at Callum to see my expression mirrored on his face. Brock looked somber, the cracks in his stoic demeanor slowly piecing themselves back together as he listened.