“What do you think, True?”
“I think if I tell you my opinion, you may never wanna see me again, and I would hate that.”
That’s as close to an admission as I can manage.
His smile is soft. “I promise, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t wanna know.”
I rough up my drying hair, trying to figure out how much I should say.
Finally, I go with, “I’m pretty certain he’s in with some really bad dudes. I don’t think he started off as a bad guy. I don’t think he’s anything like his dad, but he got himself into trouble, and what they’ve got on him will put him away for a long time. He’s smart to cooperate with the government, to ask you to provide the court with a statement of his stand-up qualities.” I blow out a breath. “But I think it’s dangerous for you to involve yourself with this case.”
Yeah, there’s no way Brantley’s guilt-tripping Rami into helping him. Brantley’s legal problems are his alone, and sincehe’s out of jail, I think a visit and a friendly warning should suffice.
“I don’t know how to tell him I can’t do this for him,” Rami says, bringing me back to the present.
“You don’t have to tell him now. Give it a few days, talk it over with your family, and I know y’all will come up with the right thing to say.”
“What would you tell him?”
Ugh, this worry line between his brows is fucking killing me. I grab him and kiss it until it melts.
“I’d be real subtle. Something along the lines of, ‘Fuck you for ruining my gala, and lose my number.’”
He snorts, snuggles in a little closer, then tilts his face, wordlessly asking for a kiss. I give it to him, and we kiss until he pulls away again.
“I’ve got to take care of this,” he says, the sadness returning to his eyes again as he steps back. “I need to call my lawyer and talk to my dads.”
I hate the distance, even if it can only be measured in inches.
“I’ll be in the shop all day. Call me if you need anything.”
He kisses me again, pulls on his clothes, and leaves.
After standing in my towel for a beat too long, I shake myself out of my stupor and get dressed, making plans to pay Brantley a little visit after my appointments today. He needs to know he can’t fuck with my—with Rami’s peace like that. He needs to step way the fuck back.
My mind goes down the rabbit hole of logistics, access, and timing as I pull on my socks and lace up my old-school Doc Martins. It’s only when I check my reflection in the mirror, haphazardly running styling paste through my hair, that I realize something’s changed.
In all the years I’ve been quietly approaching shelters, women’s groups, and trauma organizations to see if anyone is actively being menaced, I’ve never once contemplated doing sofor a lover. I’ve never known a lover well enough to be aware of their problems, let alone provide solutions.
The thought of letting Rami handle this on his own makes my stomach cramp. Though…it’s not like he’s actually alone in the world. It’s not like he needsme. But I can’t fathom trusting anyone else to do my job.
What the fuck has he done to me?
22
ANDERS AND OMAR
“Dammit, that shit stings,”Anders says, wiping the cum from his eye. He swipes at the milky goodness, then sticks his finger in his mouth. “But so delicious.”
Omar chuckles and settles back against the pillow. “Sorry, love. Thigh cramp.”
“Mm. Happens to the best of us,” Anders says, leaning in for a kiss.
Omar grins against his lips, then reaches under the pillow for the remote control.
“Fucking hell,” Anders grits out, squeezing around the vibrating butt plug as he thrusts into his husband’s well-used hole.
Omar is wicked as he clenches tight around his husband. Anders lets out a string of curses, coming hard within seconds of getting it from both ends.
