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Chapter 9
We both made a move for the door at the same time, but before I could lock it, he pushed it open. Then he asked, “Riley? Is that you?” His voice was deep. Resonant. Familiar. I shook my head, but he answered his own question. “It is. I’d never forget those hazel eyes. The rest of you though, my God look at you. You’re so different now.”
He took a step toward me, and I took two stumbling steps back as the door swung shut behind him. He looked confused as he asked, “Are you afraid of me? You never were before.”
That was true, actually. I probably should have been since he was a thug who carried a gun, but he’d never actually scared me back then. But in this situation, he was terrifying.
Even so, I squared my shoulders and tried to keep my voice level as I said, “Yeah, well, you never appeared out of nowhere and almost gave me a heart attack before.”
“Apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you. I saw Gabriel’s poster, so I had my driver pull over. I wanted to ask the shopkeepers if they knew where to find him.”
In an instant, rage replaced fear. I strode toward him and pushed him as hard as I could as I yelled, “Just stay the fuck away from him, or I swear to God I’ll make you sorry you were ever born!”
Mason Simeck was six feet of solid muscle, and he barely moved when I shoved him. He held his hands up, palms facing me, as if that would calm me somehow. Then he said, “You really have changed. The old Riley never would have stood up to me like this.”
“The ‘old Riley’ grew up, Simeck. And I meant what I said about leaving Gabriel alone.”
“Yes, or you’ll make me sorry I was born.” He sounded amused as those piercing blue eyes held my gaze.
My hands curled into fists. “Want to find out if I’m bluffing?”
Simeck moved to the center of the shop, righted an overturned chair, and sat down on it. He was perfectly calm and contained. He wore an expensive tan overcoat and a three-piece suit, like he was a refined gentleman. I knew better.
As he rubbed his square jaw with a perfectly-manicured hand, he asked, “What exactly do you think I intended to do to him?”
“Nothing good.”
“Actually, I just wanted to ask him some questions.” His smile was as ice cold as his eyes. “You’re certainly protective when it comes to that little whore.”
I picked up something that turned out to be a mannequin’s forearm and held it like a club as I hissed, “Go ahead and call him a whore again. I fucking dare you.”
“Now, now, Riley, let’s just calm down, shall we? I apologize for my choice of words, although the boy is actually a prostitute.”
I glared at him and said, “Was, not is, and don’t act like you’re better than him. He might have been a sex worker, but you were the loser who had to pay boys to fuck them.”
“I didn’t have to pay you, did I?” His tone was teasing, which infuriated me.
“Of course you did. My payment came in the form of heroin and alcohol. I must have cost you a fucking fortune.”
“I suppose that was a type of payment, and you were worth every penny, Riley.” He got up so suddenly that it startled me, and I took a step back. “I’ve never found another boy like you in all these years. You were so fragile, so perfect, and when you finally broke, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s such a shame you’re not that boy anymore.”
I growled, “You sick fuck.”
He started advancing slowly, and I backed up until I bumped into the mirrored wall. “That’s a bit hypocritical don’t you think, calling me sick? Sure, I got off on hurting you in every way imaginable, but don’t pretend you didn’t love it.”
“Like hell I did.” He tried to reach for me, but I slapped his hand away and snarled, “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
When he tried to reach for me again, I held up my makeshift club like I was going to strike him with it and yelled, “What the fuck did I just say?”
“Go ahead and hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”
“It won’t make me feel better, because I’m not a fucking sadist like you.” I tried to put some bite into that.
“You’re trying to say that like it’s a dirty word, but it’s exactly what I am. It’s like calling a bear a bear and expecting it to be insulted. I’m definitely a sadist and you were my perfect, masochistic other half. Now you’re acting like I’m some kind of monster, but you came to me willingly, we negotiated our arrangement, and you signed a contract. In it, you agreed to no limits and no safe words. You weren’t a kid when you did that. You were over eighteen and able to give consent.”
