Chapter 30 #2
Pip’s muscles stayed tense, but after a moment, he leaned into me. I pressed a whisper of a kiss to the top of his head, hoping he felt it.
I was the captain of the don’t stress Rett team. But I mean, if he had to be stressed, having it be due to my alleged demise… Well, it wasn’t the worst option.
“I’ll come alone. But only if you leave Ghost out of this,” Rett declared.
I did not approve of this dialogue.
Forget what I said. This was exactly why my little pipgeek needed to live a peaceful life. He wasn’t made for trauma, even if he seemed to think he was.
Tommy laughed. “Fine. But just in case he tries to convince you he’s bulletproof, I’ve added a little more incentive for you to get the job done.”
A pained wail echoed through the line. “Ahhhhhhh… sssstoppppp!”
Please, did he think sounds of torture were going to work like that? I’d heard goats scream louder.
Rett gasped and clutched the phone tighter. “Wyatt!” he yelled. “Wyatt, is that you?”
Fuck. I guess sounds of torture would be successful after all.
“Tommy!” Rett yelled, completely worked up now. “What have you done? Is that Wyatt?”
First of all, who is Wyatt? And why was Rett getting more upset at his demise than mine?
Tommy could just kill him. No loss here.
Tommy cackled into the line. He sounded like a villain in a Disney movie. “I’m surprised you recognized him from a scream.”
And then Wyatt—whoever he was—wailed again.
“Stop!” Rett yelled, leaping out of my lap to pace. “What are you doing? Don’t hurt him!”
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s just been passed out for so long that I was beginning to worry. Just powering him up a bit so he can say hi.”
Making Rett listen to a man being electrocuted? Remember when I said Enzo could kill him and it wouldn’t matter? I lied. This guy was mine, and I was going to make it hurt.
“Wyatt,” Rett yelled, holding the phone right in front of his mouth. “Wyatt, are you okay?”
The line was quiet for a moment, and Pip glanced at me with a helpless expression. I got up and reached for the phone.
“Rett? Is that y-you?” a strained voice came over the line.
Rett clutched the phone back. “Yes, I’m here. Wyatt, what happened? Why are you with Tommy?”
“I don’t remember,” he slurred. “I don’t feel too good. Can you pick me up?”
“Where are you?” Rett yelled, but Wyat was replaced by Tommy.
“Midnight tomorrow. Go to the address you’re given, and once you get there, I’ll let your little homeless friend go.”
“Listen to me, you asshole,” Rett said, his voice dropping into an octave I’d never heard before. “If you hurt Wyatt even a little, my attack dog will be the nicest thing that comes your way.”
Okayyy, Evel Knievel.
“Just come and do your job, and no one will get hurt.” A heavy pause. “Except you.”
The line went dead.
Rett slumped and probably would have dropped onto the floor if I hadn’t scooped him up.
“I got you.”
“First, he threatened you, and now Wyatt. He was hurting him, Hiro.”
Carrying him over to the sofa, I sat and tugged the burner from his grip.
His fingers were red and angry-looking around the black device.
Rage unlike anything I’d felt before swept through me.
It was the kind of rage that could threaten the control that made me so efficient.
The kind of rage that would turn me from a villain into a monster.
A monster named Hiro.
How ironic. Yet fitting.
Sliding out from under him, I pushed to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Pip asked, his voice small.
“Getting you some water and some anti-inflammatories.”
“How do you know I need those?” he asked.
Because your hands are bright red and warm to the touch. “Doc told me. And I did some reading after you fell asleep on me.”
“I did not fall asleep on you.”
“I have drool stains right here,” I teased, pointing to my pec.
I thought his eyes would linger longer, but they rose to mine instead. “You read about RA?”
“A little. I’ll read more later,” I said, heading into the kitchen. Once I was there, I ripped the battery out of the back of the burner phone, tossed both pieces in the sink, and turned on the faucet.
I knew it was too late to keep them from tracking our address, but that didn’t mean I needed to make it even easier. Plus, if he called back, Rett would just answer again. Once was enough.
I snatched a water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. Once that was done, I shook three red pills into my palm and snagged some Goldfish before heading back to the couch.
“I couldn’t possibly eat. Didn’t you hear the way Wyatt screamed?” Rett said, eyes straying to the Goldfish.
“These are for me,” I said. “Open your mouth.”
His lips parted, and I dropped in the pills and held out the water. He took it and swallowed while I opened the cheese crackers and helped myself.
When he was done, I grabbed his chin and leaned in. “Whose good boy are you?”
“Yours.”
“That’s right. And no one else’s.” I confirmed and dropped a fast kiss against those sweet, sweet lips. With that out of the way, I could get my knowledge on. “Who is Wyatt?”
Rett’s stormy eyes filled with tears. “He’s my friend. Well, more like someone I know from the homeless shelter.”
“You date him?” I had to ask. It was a required question.
“No!” Rett said instantly. “No way. I just met him a few months ago. He started coming to the shelter but not very regularly. He’s young and alone. And seems so out of place.”
“So he’s like you,” I surmised.
Rett shook his head. “No. He’s more innocent.” The doubt must have shown on my face because he said, “I was homeless for years. This seems new for him.”
So he was Rett before the street wore him down? Fuck.
“I tried to help him. I’ve tried more than once. I even told him he could stay with me. But he runs every time. He’s always so scared. And now…”
“Okay,” I interrupted. “Don’t stress yourself out. Wyatt is going to be fine.”
Rett sniffled and then nodded. “You’re right.”
I liked it when he agreed with me.
“Because I’m going to that drop and making sure of it.”
Now wait just one damn minute. “Over my dead body!”
“And you aren’t coming, or Tommy will kill you too!”
I wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response. “Not if I kill him first.” Listen, the words just slipped out.
“You can’t! Then they’ll kill Wyatt!” He began to cry.
Squatting in front of the couch, I took his face in my hands and held it firmly. “Look at me.”
Large, wet, guilt-shackled eyes met mine.
My heart started to bleed.
“No one is going to kill Wyatt,” I swore. And everyone who ever hurt you is going to fucking pay. “You trust me?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Drink the rest of your water,” I said, leaving him on the couch to head toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Pip called after me.
“To get my phone,” I said over my shoulder.
I had a call to make.