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“I’m not his boss,” I said quietly, before clearing my throat.
“But you’re Wade’s supervisor.” He stared at me and his mouth twisted to the side. “You have a position of authority over him.”
“And Wick has one over you,” I stated harshly, feeling protective of whatever the fuck this thing was. Wade wasn’t my boyfriend, but he was my shoelicker.Mine.
Maurice blew out a long breath and nodded. “But I wouldn’t turn around and accuse Wick of anything. I’ve been loyal to him. Wade’s.... Well, he’s a wild card, isn’t he? He helped Xadrian.”
“Xadrian is a manipulative bastard who took advantage of Wade.” I squared my shoulders, then relaxed them because Maurice wasn’t my enemy. He was actually a nice guy, and I didn’t know why it felt as if I was going to war with him. Maybe because I didn’t want to let Wade go. “Listen, Maurice, Xadrian made Wade feel like he could become important to him. Wade’s... sensitive. He needs someone to lead him, take care of him, and Xadrian made him believe he was the guy to do it. That doesn’t excuse Wade’s behavior, but I trust him. If I thought he’d risk this company’s reputation, I’d throw him out into the street. Trust me.”
Wade was mine to control.
Mine to dominate.
Mine to care for.
Mine to do with as I pleased.
Myresponsibility. He wasmyshoelicker.Mypretty boy.
“Since when do you care so much about him?” Maurice asked, head tilting to the side in question. A small smile quirked his mouth. “You have a reputation for being a cold hard-ass, but you’re defending him.”
I breathed heavily through my nose and shrugged. “I don’t love him or anything, but I like playing with him. He’s a good worker, too.”
“I like how the worker thing was an afterthought.” He laughed quietly.
If I had the ability to blush, I would’ve, but I wasn’t the type to get embarrassed easily, especially not about someone I wanted.
“I haven’t seen him,” Maurice finally said with a sigh. “He seemed upset when he left, though.”
“Right.” I gritted my jaw and offered him a small smile. “Thanks.”
Damn it, what now?I left the office and spent far too long looking around the workplace for Wade, but no one had seen him. I suspected that he’d left. After hearing Maurice say Wick had seen him out near the parking lot, it made sense, and that pissed me off. I’d given him an order, one he’d purposely ignored.
I went back to my desk and grabbed the folder of information about him. Shuffling through it, I kept my eyes peeled until I found what I wanted—his brother’s address. Either Wade was at his apartment or his brother’s, but either way, I would find him.
I left a message with my team that I was leaving for the day. Without a backward glance, I went straight to my truck.
The first stop I made was at Wade’s, and with a few rough knocks on the thin, unstable door, I decided he wasn’t there. There wasn’t a peep on the other side, and I knew Wade well enough by now that I could tell he wasn’t the type of person to ignore someone knocking, especially when he probably knew it was me.
My next stop was his brother’s home, which was a few suburbs over but not far away. Like Wade, his brother lived in a poor neighborhood with houses that were falling apart and shady looking shops. The roads were uncared for—potholes dotted across the asphalt. I wasn’t afraid of the area because I didn’t grow up in a great place, either.
Dad and Mom had tried their best, but Mom was a waitress and Dad was a struggling cook and part-time car enthusiast. The one expensive thing they’d owned was Dad’s car, the same Mustang that I’d never gotten to see because it was stolen out of their front yard a month before I was born. I understood living in poverty. That was why I’d worked so hard, pushed to the breaking point, to give my Dad a better life. In the end, it hadn’t mattered because he’d died before he could enjoy it.
“Fuck.” I shook my head and hit the steering wheel with my palm. I despised thinking about the past. I didn’t know why I’d let myself be pulled into that heartache.
The small shotgun house Wade’s brother,Neil, lived in wasn’t anything special. Yellow in color, it had faded from the hot Louisiana sun. With cement steps and broken white bracketing around the door, it was like every other house found around this part of town. This style of architecture was beautiful when taken care of, but it was also popular in the poor suburbs because of the size.
Clearing my throat, I walked up the stairs and knocked on the screen door. A few moments later, the wooden door was yanked open and a haggard man glared out through the screen at me.
“Who are you?” he snapped, eyeing me carefully. “If you’re after the hospital payments, I told that bitch on the phone I ain’t got nothing to give her. I reckon you need to get out of here before I make ya.”
I stared at him, taking in the sight of the man before me. He was nothing like Wade. With messy short blond hair and a thin mouth, Neil Sawyer looked about a hundred years old. The bags under his eyes were dark bruises, and everything about him was greasy. Unkempt. He wore a simple gray tank top and similarly colored shorts with no shoes. The low dip of his neckline gave me a good view of a red scar slashed down the middle of his chest from the operation I’d read about.
“I’m here for Wade,” I finally said, raising my chin. “Is he here?”
Neil’s eyebrows pinched and he glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “Does he owe ya money?”
I simply stared at him for a long moment before I spoke again. “Tell him Albion’s here and I want to speak to him.”
