Chapter 13
My phone chimes with a message, but it’s on the bedside table, and I really don’t want to stretch my arm. I’m still sore, the muscles in my arms and legs aching from trying to fight my way out of Rees, or Warrior’s, restraints.
I still can’t believe he tracked me down, befriended me and others at Bound, just to torment and torture me.
I’ve been doing what I do best and digging deep into his recent years, including his membership at Bound.
It was easy to hack into the computer system there.
Not something I do regularly, but it’s a skill I keep honed.
It seems he’s been well received and liked as a Dom, by both subs and Doms alike.
A quick look into his application gives me his address, and I’m arranging for him to get a visit from a couple of friends of mine.
Men who are more than happy to solve problems with their fists—not too much but enough to threaten.
A heavy cuff around the ear and a kick in the balls will be a start.
Next, the draining of his bank account; it seems that he’s amassed a decent amount of money over the last sixteen or so years.
Drug dealing pays, and I’d put money on prostitution, too, if what he said about my mother was true.
But all his money has now found its way into the bank of a women’s hostel and a drug rehab centre.
His credit cards are now all maxed out and going into default, and there may or may not be a new name added to a sex offenders’ register and been brought to the local police’s notice.
But I’m not admitting to anything. Of course, it’s illegal, but he’s done worse crimes one hundred times over. So, I’m not filled with guilt.
The phone starts to ring, obviously not happy with me ignoring the message.
Before I can find the energy, Rafe comes in the room and gives me the look.
The stay-still stare that has me collapsing back down on my mattress, then moaning because my back is still painful.
The welts are scabbing, but the bruises are every colour of the rainbow, and they feel bone deep.
“It’s your brother,” he says, frowning at the caller id. “What do you want me to do?”
“Which brother?” I ask, not sure why that matters. I’m not ready to see or talk to any of them. It’s only been four days since the catastrophic scene. I doubt if any news of it has spread. Apart from Kris, I didn’t speak to anyone else. Did he talk to Saint after I left?
“Saint,” Rafe says as the call drops, only to start again. “It’s still Saint. This may be important, maybe something else has happened, and he doesn’t know about you.”
I hold out my hand for the phone, and when Rafe passes it, I swipe the screen to accept the call; I watch Rafe walk out of the room, giving me some privacy.
I know and don’t mind that he can still hear me.
“Hey, whose house is on fire?” I ask, trying to sound normal, but with my throat still painful, it’s a dry rasp.
“So, it’s true. What the hell happened to you?” Saint’s angry voice. “Do you need any help?”
“Good news travels fast, doesn’t it.” I know trying to make light of it is not going to work with this brother. He’s a very demanding Dom and loves to fuck and play hard. Luckily for him, he has Noah; the kid is the perfect sub for him. Their shit is kinky as fuck.
“Don’t mess with me, bro. I’ve got Royal and Knox ready to barge into your apartment. I’m the sensible one, apparently. So, spill. How bad are you hurt, and do you need to go to hospital?”
“Fine, I’m pretty messed up, but I don’t need to see a doctor.
I’ve got a friend here helping me.” I look at Rafe as he steps back in the room and I know neither of us likes to think of us as just friends, but it’s the easiest way to keep my brothers away.
He runs his hands through my hair, giving me a soft smile.
“What friend? Do we know him?” Saint doesn’t sound like he’s about to force a full-on intervention anymore. His concern is still there, but he has at least turned it down a notch.
“No, he’s a guy from before; we met on a job.
He’s a good guy and in the scene, so he knows what to do.
And before you go all Dom Saint on me, I’m not going to the police.
” I try to relax my tight shoulders, but the sheets and pillows are too rough on my skin.
It’s best if I lie on my front, so I twist over, trying not to moan or let any sound come out.
I hear him muttering to someone else, probably the two hovering brothers, then he’s back talking to me. “I’ve got rid of the others so I can be more open. I heard you were beaten really bad; can I check you out, just me. I’ll not say anything. Please, Drake.”
“Okay, if it’s going to stop all you clucking hens, you can come. But not one fucking word about any of it. Including my friend.”
“I promise.”
“See you in a few.” I end the call and drop the phone over the edge of the bed. Even with my eyes closed, I know Rafe is back in the room with me. “Saint’s coming, but he’ll be alone.”
“Do you want me to disappear for a while?” He’s chewing on his lip.
I know he doesn’t want to cause any more questions, but he doesn’t want to leave me alone.
His Dom still wants to take charge, not knowing if we have that dynamic now—or if we ever will again.
Our relationship over the last two years has been good; we’ve become close.
We’ve even had sex a few times, but I haven’t submitted for him.
I wonder if I’ll ever submit again. I hope so; it’s as much a part of me as the colour of my eyes and hair.
“No, of course not. I’m not hiding you from my family,” I chuckle, making him frown. “It’s probably best it’s Saint; I doubt very much if he will recognise you. Saint only has time for Noah and his tattoo studio.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “Should I be offended by that?”
Rafe’s career has gone stellar since he fired Grant.
He’d been holding back a lot of gigs, collaborations, and contracts.
With his new manager, he’s soared, and I couldn’t be prouder.
I hate that I’m not the one protecting him, but we’re not there yet.
I’m not even sure if we’ll ever be together again.
It’s a topic of conversation we both seem to be ignoring.
Perhaps, while I’m like this, it’s for the best. The reason for his visit is not a pleasant one, not one of late nights with wine and good conversation.
It’s one of pain and medical care, tears and whispers of apologies.
Me for needing him to help, him for not being my Dom.
The man I could rely on to take care of me.
There’s a knock on my door before we get a chance to say anything more. Rafe stands up from the bed and kisses my forehead. “I’ll let him in. Is he as big and scary as you say?”
I cough to hide my laugh. “I’ll let you decide.”
I can hear both of their voices as they approach. My insecurities ramp up, and I’m ashamed of what I let happen. I don’t want Saint to see the state of my back and shift to roll over, then sit up against the pillows.
“What the ever-loving fuck!” Saint hollers out at he steps into the bedroom. “Jesus-fucking-Christ, Drake. I hope you’ve got this guy’s address.”
“Calm down, it will heal. And before you ask, he’s being dealt with.” I shift, trying to find a more comfortable position, but with my arsehole still sore and my bum equally as battered as my back, not much is comfortable.
“Don’t sit if it hurts, roll back over. I want to have a look at your back.” He’s not going to settle until he’s seen it, so I roll over again.
Rafe sits down next to me, his hand stroking through my hair. A gesture not missed by Saint, but I’m grateful he doesn’t ask for an explanation. I tune out, lulled by the gentleness of Rafe’s fingertips. They talk about the best ways to treat the welts, but I don’t need to know about any of that.
I don’t think I’ve been asleep for long because both men are still next to me on the bed. It’s what was said that has me alert.
“Are you sure?” Saint hisses, his words still not much more than a whisper, but the anger is there. “Rees is the bastard who left him motherless and homeless? He doesn’t look old enough. He only looks about ten years older than me.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this now, but his mum was only a kid when she had him. They were only in their mid-twenties when they left him.”
“So, Rees knew about Drake being in the scene? How the hell did he find that out or was it just by chance, wrong place at the wrong time? He groomed him for that scene. I’m going to rip his fucking legs off and beat him to death with them.” Saint is genuinely outraged for me.
“You don’t need to; Drake has sorted it all out. That arsehole is in deep shit. Drake emptied his bank accounts and used all his credit cards, sending them into default. He’s a genius.”
“I’m not. I’m just a vindictive bastard with the means to make him hurt for so much longer than he has me.
I doubt he’ll ever get back on his feet.
His mortgage now shows he hasn’t made a payment for nearly a year, and his work has been informed he is a drug dealer and pimp—his many arrests for them and theft.
The first two are true, the other is new.
” I twist to look at my brother. “Not a word from you to anyone, especially not Pops; this would kill him.”
“Christ, Drake. How the hell do you know how to do that kind of stuff. You’re scary as fuck, bro.” Saint looks a little pale. All the blood has drained from his face.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I chuckle, then look at Rafe. “You blabbed. I knew you’d tell him.”
“I’m sorry, but someone other than me needs to know, especially when I’m away from you again.” Rafe’s sad expression matches the one in my heart. That we’ll be leaving each other’s lives again soon. Who knows for how long this time.
“Why have I never heard of you?” Saint asks, cluelessly. “You look kinda familiar, but I know Drake doesn’t talk about you. You obviously care deeply for each other, so what’s going on?”
Well, isn’t that the million-dollar question.