9. Nolan
NINE
NOLAN
I was sitting at my desk at work, staring into space and not even seeing any of the files and reports on my desk. My mind was at home, in my bedroom, to be exact, remembering and reliving exactly what I’d done to Benji before work.
My god, his body was utter perfection. As if he’d been designed with me in mind.
His perfect arse, his pretty eyes, his full lips. The way he laughed, the way he clung to me. The way he begged me.
Men had fought wars for less.
I was all too aware I had feelings for him and painfully aware that he was leaving in a few days.
I could ask him to stay longer. Hell, I’d pay him to stay.
But to what end?
I couldn’t expect him to stay forever. I couldn’t pay him forever. And I couldn’t ask him to quit his job for me. That was ludicrous and unfair on him.
He’d said twice now that he enjoyed his work and that he was an incredibly sexual person. I could vouch for that.
But I couldn’t ask him to quit. As much as I wanted him to.
As much as the thought of another man touching him pained me...
A sharp knock on my door surprised me, and Dom stuck his head in. “Got a second?”
He had a manila folder in his hand, so assuming it was work related, I nodded. “Sure. Of course, come in.”
He did, closing the door behind him, which wasn’t protocol...
So this was a personal conversation then.
“You were a million miles away,” Dom said, sitting across from me. “In a fairly pleasant place, by the looks of it.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He knew about Benji, so I didn’t have to hide it from him. “Something like that. How about you? A little birdie told me his bratty friend stayed all night long at your place the other night.”
“Hmm.” Dom’s eyes met mine and he didn’t smile. “About that little birdie,” he said. “What do you know about him?”
What?
“About Benji?”
Dom nodded and waited.
I suddenly felt scrutinised and defensive. “Uh...” I shook my head. “That he’s twenty-one years old. Been in his line of work for two years.” I wasn’t saying what that was out loud.
“Anything about his family?”
“Only that they weren’t good people, and he spent his whole life dreaming of leaving them.” I wasn’t divulging that Benji had only told me this last night, but this was suddenly feeling like a formal line of questioning, and I wasn’t divulging anything unless specifically asked.
“Do you know his last name?”
He wasn’t going to like this.
“He told me it was Smith, but I highly doubt that’s true.” When Dom’s eyes narrowed at me, I narrowed mine right back at him. “Hardly surprising to give actual names in his line of work, is it?” This was bullshit. “What’s going on, Dom? Why the questions?”
He put the manila folder on my desk, atop the others. “I thought I recognised him, but I couldn’t be sure,” Dom said. “It took me a while to place him. He’s older, thinned out a lot, but his eyes...”
I opened the folder.
File name Benecio Barbieri.
Son of Bruno and Emilia, deceased. Younger brother to Tommaso.
Current whereabouts unknown.
The black and white photograph was of a boy, maybe twelve. He was wearing a black suit, standing at a graveside funeral. He was shorter, had that pre-puberty chubbiness that told me he was about to shoot up two feet in two years. His curly hair was the same.
But his eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
The photo... His mother’s funeral. Yet he stood apart from his father and brother. Alone. Twelve years old and alone at his own mother’s funeral.
“I’m sorry,” Dom said.
I looked up at him then. “What for?”
His gaze went to the folder. “It’s... it’s Benji.”
I nodded. Because it was.
“He’s been off radar for years,” Dom added. “Went to boarding school, apparently, and never went home. Not during school holidays, not when he graduated. He just... disappeared.”
“He said he grew up wanting nothing else but to leave them,” I whispered.
“The cops don’t know where he is,” Dom said. “Couldn’t find him. When Bruno Barbieri’s case got blown wide open, he was questioned about everything, including the whereabouts of his youngest son. No one had seen him in years and at first, they speculated if Bruno had offed him. You know they’d always questioned whether he’d killed his wife...”
My head was starting to spin.
“But Bruno had laughed and said Benecio was... a string of homophobic words I won’t repeat, and that he wouldn’t have wasted a bullet.”
I closed my eyes. Rage burned behind my ribs and just under my skin, blistering and burning so hot I couldn’t form words. Hell, my only concerns were for Benji.
“I need to go home,” I said, about to stand up.
“Nolan,” Dom said. “This is... this is not good.”
“No. He’s at home by himself. I should be with him. Or something. I don’t know.”
“You’re implicated,” he said flatly. “This case is now in jeopardy. Every file, anything you’ve touched, which is all of it.”
I stared at him, mouth open.
I hadn’t even thought of that.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No . . .”
He leaned in, his voice a whisper. “He’s the son of Bruno Barbieri. The man we’re trying to put away for some very serious crimes. The son, who is currently living at your house, and you’re paying him for sexual?—”
“No. I’m paying him for loss of income when I hit him with...”
“With your car,” he finished for me. “Can you see how this looks?”
“He ran out in front of me,” I countered. “He was being chased...”
Then I realised why he’d been running, blood draining from my face. “Oh fuck.”
Dom was immediately concerned. “What is it? He was being chased?”
I nodded. “Who did you tell about this?”
“No one. I wanted to speak to you first.”
I stood up and grabbed my jacket. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going? ”
“To speak to Benji.”
Dom stood up but raised a hand. “Wait. I can’t. I can’t see him now that I know. I’m lead counsel?—”
“You said his father wouldn’t have bothered killing him because he’s gay,” I said, grabbing my keys and phone.
“Right.”
“But he’s been trying to find him, sending men to find him and chase him. He’s staying at my place to lie low from the two men who were chasing him the night I hit him.”
“What are you saying?”
“So Bruno wouldn’t kill him for being gay,” I said. “But maybe he would kill him for being a witness.”
Dom scooped up the photos and folder. “Witness to what?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
I was so freaking nervous. Equal measures of dread and fear made for a fast and possibly reckless drive home, but I pulled into my parking spot and Dom had to run to catch up to me. The stupid elevator took its miserable time, and for a second, I considered taking the stairs, until Dom clapped my back.
“Hey,” he said. “Take a breath for me. And a second to think.”
“Think about what? ”
“About how this is bigger than just you and him, okay? There’s a lot at stake here.”
I glared at him as the elevator doors opened, and maybe that one second of grace stopped me from saying something I’d later regret.
We stepped inside and I thumped my floor number. “I’m very aware of that,” I said, voice cool.
Dom grabbed my arm before the elevator stopped. “Look, Nolan. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but your priorities?—”
“My priorities?” I snapped at him. My priorities should have been the legal case. My priorities should have been ensuring Bruno Barbieri was put away for a long time. That was what we’d been working so hard for the past year for.
But they weren’t. My priorities, in that moment, had never been clearer.
“He is my priority,” I said.
The elevator doors opened and I raced to my front door.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Dom mumbled as he followed me.
Not waiting for him, I unlocked my door, leaving it open as I pushed in. “Benji?”
He was on the couch, book in hand, and relief slammed into me as soon as I saw him.
“Hey,” he said, getting to his feet. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything?—”
I collected him in a hug. “Thank god you’re okay.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and when I let go of him, we both noticed Dom now standing inside, holding the manila folder.
Benji took a step back, his face paling, the book in his hand forgotten.
I grabbed his elbow. “It’s okay, Benj. It’s okay.”
He shook his head, his wide eyes on me. The fear I saw in his eyes...
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re not in trouble.”
“We need to talk though,” Dom said. He walked over to the dining table, put the manila folder down, and took a seat.
I took the book from Benji, dumped it onto the couch, and slid my arm around his back. He was stiff and scared, so I pressed my lips to his forehead. “It’ll be okay,” I murmured. I rubbed his back for a second, then took his hand and led him to the table.
He came willingly, as if he was on autopilot.
Defeated.
I sat beside him, both of us opposite Dom, and kept our joined hands on Benji’s thigh, my grip tight.
Dom opened the folder. The file name—Benji’s real name—and the photograph of his mother’s funeral on top.
Benji looked at them, then looked up, motionless. His face a mask of blank sadness.
“You know we’re lawyers for the ODPP, I assume,” Dom said. He was using his courtroom voice. Confident, stern, abrasive. I’d always admired the way he controlled the narrative, but I didn’t like it as much now .
Benji didn’t answer. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.
“Then you should know the case we’re currently working on is the state against Bruno Barbieri.”
Benji slow blinked, and I squeezed his hand. “I didn’t know,” I whispered. “Benji, I didn’t know.”
He still wouldn’t look at me.
“You went off the grid,” Dom continued. “Never accessed your bank accounts, phone, or contacted friends or family.”
“Of course he didn’t,” I answered for him. “His family was the reason he left.”
Dom’s gaze cut to me in that unimpressed-lawyer way he did best. “The police had reason to believe he’s dead, Nolan. Missing person, at least.”
“Did he ever report me as missing?” Benji asked, his voice quiet and detached. “Did anyone?”
No. They hadn’t. None of them had.
Even Dom didn’t need to answer that.
“The men chasing you,” Dom said, changing approach. “Are they your father’s men?”
Benji took a few seconds to answer. I didn’t think he was going to say anything at all, but he let out a quiet sigh. “Yes.”
“Why?” Dom asked. “Is he just tying up loose ends? Or did you see something you shouldn’t have? Do you know things you shouldn’t?”
Benji looked at me then, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes before he stood up and tried to pull his hand from mine. “I need to go,” he mumbled .
I stood up, and when he got his hand free from mine, I grabbed his arm instead. “Benji, please. You’re safe here. He can’t find you here. No one knows you’re here.”
He shot Dom a filthy glare. “Yes, they do. You do. He does.” He tried to yank his arm away from me. “You wanna hand me back to him?—”
“No!” I cried, holding onto him. “No. Never. I wouldn’t allow it.”
“Nolan,” Dom murmured.
I spun to Dom. “Absolutely fucking not. I will declare involvement and this will be a mistrial before it even begins.”
“I don’t want to hand him over,” Dom snapped. “Jesus Christ, Nolan. But this is already complicated enough. We cannot jeopardise this trial. You have a conflict of interest?—”
“Fuck the case,” I replied. “Fuck it all. I’m off the detail anyway, effective immediately.”
“No,” Benji said, still trying to get free. “Nolan, please let go of me.”
I hadn’t even been aware I was still holding onto him. I released my grip and he stood there, his chest heaving. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Whatever you think, however bad you think he is, it isn’t even half of what he’s done. The shit you have on him—whatever it is—won’t matter.” He shook his head. “He’ll get off. He always does. He gets away with whatever the fuck he wants. You think him being in prison awaiting trial is stopping any of his business deals?” Benji laughed. “He’s never been richer, more powerful. And my brother... ”
He put his hand to his forehead, pale and on the verge of tears.
“Benji,” I tried.
He shook his head and his eyes met mine. “I can’t stay here. I can’t put you in danger.” He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”
“You’re safe here,” I tried.
“I’m not safe anywhere.”
“What did you see?” Dom asked as he stood up. “What do you have on him? Your brother. Where is he in all of this?”
Benji took another step back from him, scared, and that just pissed me off.
“Enough, Dominic. Jesus fucking Christ.”
“We can’t help him if he doesn’t tell us,” Dom snapped.
“You cannot threaten him,” I hissed.
Dom sighed. “I’m not. That’s not what I meant.”
Benji slipped behind me and went down the hall into my room. I shook my head at Dom. “This was not the plan.”
Not that we really had a plan.
Maybe Dom’s plan was to question Benji, but my plan was to make sure he was okay.
“What exactly are you trying to save here?” Dom asked. “I thought you were here for the case.”
I pointed to the photo on the table. The one of the twelve-year-old boy crying alone at his mother’s funeral. “This boy right here. That’s who I’m here for. The one whose own father wants him dead. Who is on the run because his arsehole father, the man we’re trying to put in prison, is trying to track him down.” Then I pointed at Dom. “I will not let you or anyone else hurt him, do you under-fucking-stand?”
I left Dom standing there and went down to my room. Benji was standing at my bed, shoving the last of his shirts into his backpack.
“No, Benji, no,” I whispered, going to him, trying to take his things out as he was trying to shove them in. “You can’t go. Don’t leave. You’re safe here. We’ll figure something out.”
“You’re in danger if I stay,” he said, pulling the backpack away from me. “Your case, your work, your job.” He shook his head. “I can’t bring this shit down on you if I’m not here.”
I shook my head, panic starting to kick in. “No. It’s fine. I’m off the case. It’s no big deal. There are a thousand other cases. This isn’t your fault.”
“Fitch and Ky,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “I put them in danger too. Everyone I care for. All I do is bring trouble, no matter where I go. I’m sorry.” He sniffled, and the first tear escaped down his cheek. He tried to scrub it away, but I pulled him into my arms.
He had no fight in him anymore. He let me hold him and he sobbed.
“No, baby,” I whispered. “You’re no trouble. You did nothing wrong. You couldn’t have known. Like I couldn’t have known.”
“If I’d told you my name . . .”
“If you’d told people your name, your father would have found you a long time ago. You did what you needed to do. I would never question that.”
He cried some more and I held him tighter. “It’ll be okay, Benji. I promise. But I can’t protect you if you leave. I know you’re scared. I am too. But you’ll be okay. Just stay until we figure something out. Please. Then—” I shrugged. “—if you still feel unsafe and want to go somewhere else, I’ll drive you myself. Anywhere you want to go.”
He sobbed, his whole body shaking. “Why are you so nice to me? Why are you doing this?”
I pulled back and cupped his face, making him look at me. He had tears streaming down his face, his dark lashes wet, eyes red. “Because you’re worth it,” I whispered. “You deserve to be looked after, shown the love you never had.”
He recoiled a little and I realised I’d said the L word.
I hadn’t exactly meant it like that, but he did deserve love. He deserved to be loved, to bask in it, to grow in it.
And if he stayed with me, I believed I could do that. I could love him so easily.
He heaved out a sob, barely able to speak. “I don’t deserve love.”
I pulled him back into my arms, holding him so damn tight. “You do. You do deserve love. To be loved, to know what it means to be loved so completely. You do, Benji. And if you give me a chance, I could be that person for you. If you let me.”
He cried and cried, and I kept my arms around him until he cried himself out. I needed him to know that I wasn’t going anywhere. After a while, he pulled back, wiping his eyes and nose, his face a blotchy, beautiful mess.
I wiped my thumb across his cheek and kissed his forehead. “You’ll be okay. We’ll make this right.”
He frowned again, but he nodded. “I... I don’t know how.”
The truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure either. “We’ll work it out together. But he can’t hurt you when you’re here with me. I won’t let it happen.”
His gaze met mine. He looked so tired. As if he finally allowed himself to feel the weight of the last few years. He nodded, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so good to me.”
Oh, this boy . . .
I pulled him in under my arm and kissed his forehead. “Then I’ll just have to show you until you get it.”
He froze. “Show me what?”
“That you’re worth it,” I said, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. “Come on, we better go see if Dominic’s gone.” I assumed he was because we’d been in my room a while. I’d have some fallout to deal with, I was certain of that much. But I didn’t care. I was doing the right thing.
I’d always had a moral compass for right and wrong, and this was the right thing to do.
My career be damned.
I took Benji’s hand and walked him out to the living room. I hadn’t expected Dom to still be there, but he was. Standing at the glass door to the balcony, looking out at the world, his hands clasped behind his back .
“Oh,” I said, surprised.
He glanced over his shoulder and sighed before turning around to face us. “I’m surprised to still be here too,” he said flatly, just as the intercom buzzed.
My gaze went to the door, and I pulled Benji behind me.
“I called someone,” Dom explained as he walked over and let whoever the hell it was into my apartment complex.
“What the hell?” I asked, incredulous. “Who? Who did you call, Dominic?”
Who the fuck did he think he was?
“What have you done?”
He sighed again and opened my front door. I had no clue who was about to walk in. Cops? The DA? Our boss?
But they didn’t walk in. They ran and skidded to a stop in my living room.
Fitch.
And a taller guy followed a second later.
Dominic had called Fitch?
Fitch saw no one but Benji. He bypassed me and collected him in a fierce hug. The second guy, whom I wasn’t sure I knew, came over and ruffled Benji’s hair.
Dominic closed the door and met my stunned gaze. “We need to talk.”