Chapter 12
Twelve
Rafael
I have to be hearing things. Please, please say I’m hearing things from lack of sleep. It’s been three days and all I’ve managed is six measly hours, and I may not have thrown any new bodies in ponds, but this is where it all starts, isn’t it?
Waking up in front of a random house without remembering ever driving here. Except this isn’t that random. I feared this would happen. This is my second morning driving out to the same neighborhood, though I haven’t made it out of the car yet. What happens once I do? Will I hurt him too?
Will he end up frightened of me like everyone else? People don’t ask for help from people they’re scared of.
Stomach twisting in knots, my fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I shift my attention back to the news on the radio.
Two were found dead in their vehicle because of faulty brakes.
They’re suspecting foul play. Of course they are.
Those names they mentioned have been carved in my brain since my last deployment.
More army buddies who were in the barracks with me that night.
Is that the real reason I was at Rory’s house with a knife in my hand?
Did I want to ensure his new boyfriend kept his mouth shut and couldn’t ever tell anyone what really happened that night?
I’m going after them one by one, aren’t I?
I woke up last week with the bottom of my shirt covered in brake fluid.
It was me who caused that crash. I can feel it in my bones.
It’s a sharp, ugly sensation, and the pressure wrapping around them makes it hard for me to sit up straight.
I didn’t try to hurt Rory if that’s the case. And it means I won’t hurt Henry. All those other times I woke up at Rory’s, I never had a knife in my hand. Then I think back to that name, and why am I only realizing this now?
I wasn’t at Rory’s that night. It didn’t look like his house in any way, and yet all this time I convinced myself it was. Rory wasn’t the one I followed and waited for that night. He wasn’t the one on my mind while I was sleepwalking. It was Hunter. I was going to kill him, wasn’t I?
That’s what I’ve been doing all this time. Eliminating the threat. Subconsciously, I know what I did back then is on its way to destroy whatever it hasn’t taken from me yet. If only I could remember what I did that night. If only I could fucking remember everything I need to.
A loud honk comes from behind me, causing me to swerve, and some asshole in a red car cuts in front of me, sticking his hand out the window to flip me off.
Ignoring it, I move into the next lane and take the next exit I come across.
As I’m pulling into the nearest gas station to stock up on more Red Bull and Monster, my phone goes off.
Henry is calling me through the app and when I answer he seems in distress.
My heart sinks and I forget about what I was meaning to do before, putting all my focus on him.
“What’s going on? What happened?” It better not have anything to do with his stupid ex.
I have no idea what his new address is, but maybe I’ll find it out on purpose and lay off the energy drinks for a day or two to see if my disadvantage can actually be of use to me.
“I . . . fuck. I don’t know how to say this.”
“Are you hurt or something? Is this some kind of emergency?”
His eyes circle the room as they hold a blank stare. “Not your usual one. Not one that requires an ambulance. Not yet at least.”
I jerk in my seat. “Honey, I’m going to need you to tell me what the problem is before I send the cops over for a wellness check.”
He sucks on his lower lip, eyes watering. It hurts my heart to see him this way, but if he keeps delaying this, then it’s going to take me longer than necessary to fix the problem he’s having. Oh, and I will do everything in my power to fix it.
“This is embarrassing . . . maybe I should have called someone else. Normally I’d call my best friend but she’s visiting family and . . . and . . .”
“Shh, it’s okay . . . take a breath and tell me what you need.”
“I really shouldn’t have called you,” he stammers. “But I don’t have anyone else and I’m stuck.”
Attention sparked, I lean back. “Stuck how?”
He sucks in a breath and pushes it out. “I . . . I was experimenting with new toys. My ex . . . he said . . . the reason he did what he did was because I was never up for trying new things and was so boring in bed. Very vanilla.”
My cock twitches as I think of all the ways he could have gotten himself into trouble. “What did you get stuck?”
More heavy breathing comes from the other side of the line.
“My cock.” His face is flushed when it comes into view.
“In the cock cage I was supposed to throw away.” He takes a quick breath before continuing.
“I put it on to prove something to myself, I guess, but then I dropped the key and I’ve been crawling all over trying to find it. I’ve been searching for hours.”
My jeans grow tight and I bite the inside of my cheeks before saying, “Well . . . I’ve never helped someone with something like this before, but I’d like to try my best here. Move the phone around you. Let me see all areas of the bed.”
Doing as I ask, he circles the area and catches a little of himself in the lens. A sliver of his milky white thigh and the tips of his pink toes. My eyes grow hungry for more, but all he keeps giving me are more views of the bedding and pillows.
“I’m not seeing it.”
“Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I feel so stupid.”
“Hey, listen to me. Don’t do that. Everyone needs help getting themselves out of tiny messes sometimes, and I can promise you that’s all this is.”
His eyes dart around. “This is way more than a tiny situation, wouldn’t you say?”
“It can be whatever we make it, and since I know we’ll find that key soon, the problem is what I said it was. Tiny.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his head. “Maybe I should show you the floor? That’s originally where I assumed it fell.”
“That’s a good idea. You should wiggle the blankets too. See if it’s buried somewhere.”
“You don’t have to keep doing this.” His face distorts, the camera lens dropping down to the pulse point in his neck.
“You called me to be your eyes and that’s what I’m going to do. Now, let’s check the floor and then we can shake the blanket off next if we have to.”
“Okay. Thanks for this, Raf.”
“You’re welcome, Honey.”
He blushes, eyes turning down. Seconds later, the phone moves with him and everything is out of focus until he reaches the floor.
His knees are in view first and then a beige shaggy rug.
He runs his fingers through it, and I can see the pale line of where he had a ring.
Does he still wear it sometimes? Does he miss Travis and that’s the real reason he put the cock cage on?
My stomach twists at the thought of him picturing his face as he was wearing it.
I have no right to be jealous but it’s hard not to be.
Especially when he leans too far forward and part of the metal cage comes into view. It’s because I want to be the only one he wears it for.
My fingers itch to touch him, but all they’d be met with is my phone screen.
“Try on the other side,” I say, trying to distract my own mind.
It’s hard to help him while being so far away sometimes.
If I was there, he’d already be out of the cock cage and back to baking cookies or whatever it is he does when we aren’t on the phone together.
Spinning around, he lowers the phone and a light turns on from above. “Hmm . . . maybe we should check under the bed. Can you feel for the bed and then slide your hand to the floor.”
“Yeah.” His hand sticks out, patting the mattress, and he drops in slowly to the floor, sliding his fingers over a layer of dust. He sneezes and I smile at the cute sound.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks,” he says quietly, continuing to feel around.
“Let me see where you’re touching.”
“Oh, right.” His voice jumps. “It is why I called you.”
“It is.” I chuckle, leaning forward and resting my chin on a closed fist.
The phone is moving under the bed with his hand, and he lifts the skirt up higher to let more light travel underneath. Metal shines like a star in a dark sky inches away from where he’s touching.
“I think I see it. Two inches to your left.” He pats a little higher and his fingers freeze on the eye-catching object.
“I think this is it.” His voice wavers and he pulls back, lifting himself from the floor. He holds the key between his face and the phone, waving it from side to side.
“That looks like a key to me.”
The muscles in his cheek tick, eyes widening as his fingers squeeze around the tiny piece of metal.
“What’s wrong now? Did you lose something else?”
He shakes his head, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I . . . I can’t see where it’s supposed to go.”
I lick my lips unintentionally, and my hands press to my thighs. “Okay. It’s okay. I’m still here to help you and won’t go anywhere until I’m done.”
“I’m sorry.” His face falls and he clenches the key to his chest.
“It’s okay.” I stop myself before I can say sweetheart.
It feels so natural saying the other term of endearment I can’t stop myself from calling him.
It still does when I repeat it in my head while looking at him.
He looks so lost. I want so badly to reach out to him and say, “It’s okay, I found you, and you no longer have to go through all this alone. ”
Once he finds out what kind of person I really am, he’ll wish he’d gone to someone else.
“I really am sorry. I’m about to make things weird and . . . and is this sort of thing okay on this app?”
I look down at the phone screen. “Maybe not. We never know if any of this gets screened or recorded. How about we take this to our regular phones to be safe?”