Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Kieran
The bell on the door chimed when I walked into the Neon Reef.
Most of the light from the place came not from the shitty overheads but from all the tanks lining the walls.
There were even tanks in the center, walls of them forming their own rows.
It was like a library, but instead of books, there were fish.
Music played through overhead speakers, likely from the local radio station.
Passing by a rack of food and another of tank accessories, I went to the counter and hit the bell. No one came, and I hit it again.
“Coming!” a voice that did not belong to Haz called, and a man stepped from the back of the store. “How can I—”
I cut him off. “Where’s Haz.”
The man who was probably not even twenty-five seemed surprised. “Haz?”
“Don’t play stupid. I know he worked today because I dropped him off.”
The man rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, Haz. He, ah, already left.”
“He left,” I reiterated.
The man nodded.
I pushed past him to go into the small, cluttered room in the back.
“That’s for employees only,” he said, following me.
“When did he leave?”
“His shift was over like an hour ago.”
Fuck. I stormed by, nearly body checking him on my way out.
“Should I tell him you stopped by?” the man called behind me.
I didn’t bother to answer and looked up and down the street when I stepped outside. I’m putting a tracker on him. And sewing a phone to his ear, I decided, speeding away from the fish shop and the few blocks over to his shithole apartment.
It annoyed me that he wasn’t where I’d left him. Didn’t he know to wait for me? I thought back to this morning when he seemed uncertain if he really would be coming back to my place.
Am I coming back later? The vulnerable way he’d asked that, standing there with those two death-defying plants dirtying up my sink—it was almost as though he hadn’t understood when I called him mine.
I would have to make it crystal clear.
Every streetlight lining the sidewalk was busted, shrouding the entire block in black.
I pulled up to the curb and scanned the road and nearby buildings.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I pocketed the keys and got out of the car.
I didn’t know what apartment was his or even what floor he lived on, but as I stepped into the building, someone else was coming out.
I grabbed him by the front of his coat, whirling around to pin him into the doorjamb.
“What apartment does Haz live in?” I asked.
“Top floor. Number five.”
I let him go and looked for the elevator, but there wasn’t one, so I headed up the stairs. The enclosed, dirty space reminded me of unsavory places I’d been to in the past. Nothing good ever happened in places like this, and it made my skin crawl that this was Haz’s norm.
The second I stepped into the hallway of the fifth floor, I knew something was wrong. Without hesitation, I charged forward, seeing the wide-open door up on the left.
“Haz,” I called before I even stepped past the busted wood with the number five in the center.
This morning, Haz said he wanted to clean up before I saw the place, but the complete fiasco my eyes feasted on was definitely not from him. The shoebox apartment was completely tossed. There wasn’t one thing left unturned.
Jaw clenched, I grabbed the gun tucked in the waistband of my pants at my back. The black trench I wore swished around my legs as I swept the place, and I couldn’t decide if I hoped I found him here or gone.
When I discovered the bullet holes in the drywall, couch, and the open door of the fridge, my blood turned to ice. I was not a man who knew fear because how could I fear anything when I simply didn’t care?
So this twisting, almost panicked sensation trying to tie my insides into a knot was foreign and, for a split-second, almost crippling. It was worse than I thought, my obsession with Hazard.
I cared.
I didn’t just feel territorial, fascinated, and aroused by him.
I cared.
I wasn’t upset that someone was messing with what was mine. I was worried for his well-being.
If something happened to him… I shut down that fissure of panic. I needed to focus.
Whoever did this will see the devil long before I send them to hell.
I stalked to the broken window to peer out onto the fire escape, but my stare caught on the red smears on the broken glass.
Infernal rage smoldered inside me, the temperature so blistering it only proved I was capable of devilry here on Earth.
Footfalls heavy, I backtracked past the cracked door to the apartment across the hall.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. “Open up,” I demanded. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
The slide of a chain and the unlatching of a few locks were followed by the door opening a mere crack.
My hand slammed on the wood and shoved, the body behind it stumbling back as it sprang wide. “Where is he?” I demanded.
“Who?” a bewildered voice replied.
My attention snapped to the man standing a few feet away, one foot crossed over the other. My eyes narrowed on his thin frame and the way he clutched the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it down to cover his legs.
“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” I barked.
He jolted. “I was sleeping.”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you pay my rent?”
I glared at him incredulously, and he flushed. He was no bigger than Haz and probably not much older.
“Where’s your neighbor?”
“Haz?” he asked, eyes darting past me to the door. “Why?”
“You mean to tell me you slept through everything that happened over there?” I said, instantly suspicious. He’s involved.
His lips parted and then snapped shut, eyes flying between me and the door. He took off running, slipping past me and across the hall. The second he got to the doorway of Haz’s apartment, he stopped and gasped. “Oh my God! What happened?”
“Don’t play stupid.”
“Haz!” he called, rushing into the apartment and back to the bedroom. Clearly, he knew the way. “Haz!”
Appearing again, he declared, “He isn’t here.”
“No shit,” I spat. “Where is he? What happened here?”
He shook his head, surprise written all over his features. His eyes were gray. It was a suspicious color. “I have no idea.”
Lunging forward, I grabbed him by the front of the shirt and lifted him right off the floor. Surprised, his hands grabbed mine where it held him.
“I will ask you one more time,” I said through clenched teeth, pulling up the gun with my free hand and pressing it against his temple.
The flush drained from his cheeks, leaving behind remnants of a rash, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“I-I don’t know,” he said, eyes straining to the side as if he could see the gun. “I swear.”
I cocked the gun.
He trembled like a leaf, and though he clutched the hand holding him so hard that his knuckles were white, the grip felt terribly weak.
“I was asleep!” he shouted and then started to cry.
I reared back, not expecting the tears. I mean, sure, men had cried at my hands before. It was a tactic to avoid death. But he didn’t seem to be crying about the gun or even the threat of dying.
Fat, shiny tears slid down his cheeks as his lower lip wobbled. “I never should have taken that pill,” he cried. “But I was so tired. I just wanted a break from the pain.” A sob ripped out, and he hung his head. “If I hadn’t, I might have heard what happened. I could have helped.”
I dropped him on his feet, and he crumpled to the floor, shirt riding up to expose most of his thighs.
He swiped at his cheeks with his hands, sniffling. “He’s my only friend,” he said, gazing around, glistening wet tracks on his face. “Oh my God, is that a bullet hole?”
Fine. He’s not involved.
“Where would he have gone?”
Big, wet eyes looked up at me. “What?”
“Hazard. Where would he have gone to hide?”
“Hazard…” He wondered.
“Haz,” I ground out, patience frayed. “Where could he have gone?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea.”
I let out a growl.
“The only place he ever goes is work! He works all the time.”
“Where?”
“Where what?” he asked.
“Where does he work besides Neon Reef?”
It seemed to finally dawn on him that I was someone he didn’t know. His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Haz’s.”
“He doesn’t have friends.”
“You just said he was your friend,” I stated.
“Well, I don’t know if he considers me a friend.”
“Tell me where he works right now, or I’m going cut out your tongue.”
He never said anything useful with it anyway.
“He drives for a food delivery app, the Neon Reef… but you already know that one.”
Did I mention my patience was frayed? It was practically dust. “Where else?”
“He cleans on Sunday nights at an office building.”
“Which one?”
“I-I’m not sure,” he stammered.
“What’s the last place?”
“He’s a busboy at Blue Orchid on the weekends.”
Blue Orchid? I’d burn the place down.
“You don’t know where he’d be?” I pressed again.
He sniffled. “No.”
I went to the door, then cursed and stalked back. I picked him up, ignoring his squeak, and carried him back to his apartment. There was a lot of shit littering the ground, and he wasn’t even wearing shoes or pants.
“Lock the door,” I told him, plunking him down.
“But—”
“Lock it,” I snapped and pulled it shut between us.
When I didn’t hear the locks, I banged on the wood. “I said lock it.”
I waited until he was finished and then left, storming out of the building, not even bothering to conceal my gun.
Inside the SUV, I headed for Blue Orchid. It was a long shot, but I didn’t know where else to check. The fact that he even worked at that bordello marauding as a gay bar made me see red.
What if he’s hurt somewhere?
Or worse.
I didn’t get in line at Blue Orchid. When the bouncer saw me, he smirked and waved me in.
Yeah, I was a member of this sin shack. Clearly, I hadn’t visited often enough because I’d never once seen Haz.
“It’s been a while, Mr. Vaughn,” he said, removing the rope barring the entrance so I could go inside.