“Why did you trash our apartment?” Jonah murmured, loosening his grip on Cas’s hair to knead the muscles of his neck, his fingers on the other hand moving deftly over the welts that formed on Cas’s abused skin.
“Fuck you, Jonah,” Cas snarled, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. Jonah might be able to force him to talk about his business dealings. He might be able to strip his body naked, but he hadn’t earned the right to bare his heart. Fucking bastard.
“You saw me at the club last night, didn’t you?”
Cas rocked his hips against the table, each tiny motion sending shock waves of pleasure along his spine. “Next. Question.”
Cas wanted to sob when Jonah’s hand disappeared. He tensed, waiting for the next blow, but it never came.
“I saw you,” Jonah purred, his slick fingers skimming the muscles of Cas’s back before his hands were back to Jonah’s cheeks, once more just skimming over the tender flesh, skating close to the crease between his cheeks but never getting close enough. “I tried to catch up to you. Left that random guy there on his knees to chase you down.”
Why the fuck was Jonah telling him any of this? Cas’s toes curled as Jonah’s fingers moved rhythmically, his low crooning voice lulling Cas into some kind of trance. He didn’t say a word, just let Jonah talk.
“I never saw you on the security footage. I just went to the apartment. Some part of me knew you’d return home eventually. When I saw the damage, I recognized your work.”
A whine escaped Cas’s lips as Jonah’s fingers dipped precariously close to Cas’s balls. He held his breath, some part of him desperate for some deeper touch and another part of him sure that, if Jonah’s hands got any closer, he’d come untouched. “Jonah, please…” he started, hating himself for the desperation in his voice.
There was a sharp inhalation and then that low crooning tone was back. “Please, what?”
This question wasn’t like the others. There was no smugness, no biting sarcasm. Jonah sounded…unsure, like Cas’s cry had maybe triggered something in his head, too. Or maybe Cas was just trying to make himself feel better. Fuck. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why can’t you just apologize?” Jonah asked, voice filled with something. Regret. Confusion, maybe?
It was Cas’s undoing. “I’m sorry,” he managed. “I’m sorry about the apartment, just please go.”
Cas was too far gone to care about anything but grinding himself against the table, not even sure if there was anything discreet about what he was doing, desire tightening like a spring inside him, driving him closer, his orgasm hitting him like a wave barreling him over. Some lucid part of him did his best not to let it show that he’d just somehow come almost completely untouched from a spanking and Jonah’s stern voice.
But the reality of what they’d just done caused something to shrivel inside him. One touch from Jonah and his resolve had collapsed like a house of cards. How had Jonah known he was Cas’s only weakness? Had he always been so transparent? Humiliation burned through him. He refused to look up, to look Jonah in the eye. Cas wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
A shadow fell across Cas’s vision, and then Jonah’s breath puffed against his cheek. “The apartment is yours, Cas. I left it for you…in case…in case you decided to come home.” He spoke the words like a confession, but it was like trying to put out a four alarm fire with a watering can, his words barely penetrating Cas’s mortification. “So, I expect you to clean up your mess if you plan on sticking around.”
Cas didn’t hear Jonah leave, but he felt it. It was like the sun breaking through dark clouds, chasing away the scent of rain. Cas hated the sun. He craved the dark. He jumped from the table, shoving his legs into his underwear and black jeans, throwing on his sleeveless t-shirt and slapping on a black beanie and sunglasses. All thoughts of Annie and her list long gone. He’d come back and talk to her another time. He doubted the woman had anything useful to tell him anyway. He imagined she would have found herself meeting a messy end if she had something they wanted.
He threw too much money at the man at the desk, wincing as he walked into the light, the sun warm on his skin. What the fuck did Jonah mean he’d left the apartment for Cas? Why would he do that? Jonah had made it clear he’d wanted Cas gone. Hadn’t he? Cas felt like he was going crazy, like he’d slipped into some alternate reality where Jonah touched Cas like he wanted him and Cas had somehow been the one who’d wanted to leave.
Cas shook his head, humiliation giving way to anger and frustration, Cas’s two closest friends. He yanked open the door to the corner bodega, receiving a glare from the small, elderly hispanic woman behind the counter. He lifted a hand in apology, heading to the cooler and grabbing an armful of energy drinks and two boxes of Reese’s Pieces. He wondered if Briar was home? Should he bring her some Snow Caps? Was he going back there? Jonah said the apartment was his. But maybe it was a trap. Maybe he just wanted Cas where he could keep tabs on him.
Cas took his purchases and headed to the subway, spending the short ride standing with his back to the wall as close to the doors as possible, scanning the car for anybody who might be paying him just a little bit too much attention. Part of him worried he was being paranoid, another part thought maybe he wasn’t paranoid enough. Those Russians had come in guns blazing. Whatever was on that thumb drive was clearly important to them.
He exited the subway and walked the three short blocks to Briar’s third floor walk up. He stopped short when he realized the door gave without him turning the knob. He listened intently but heard nothing. He set down his bodega purchases in the hallway, frowning as he slowly pushed the door open, examining the room for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
But somebody had been there. Briar’s apartment was a wreck, drawers yanked open, their contents spilled across the wood floors, couch cushions mutilated, sliced with blades, stuffing littering the apartment like freshly fallen snow. Jesus. Cas had done less damage swinging a bat than whoever had broken in had done in the few hours Cas had been away. How had they traced him to Briar? Nobody could possibly know of their connection.
He appeared to be alone, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He eased his way into Briar’s closet and opened the hidden back panel, retrieving his backpack. He slid it over his shoulders, slipping out of the bedroom as silently as he’d entered.
That was when he heard it: the toilet flushing.
The bathroom door swung open before Cas could make it to the front entrance, leaving him standing face to face with a large man with a freshly broken nose and a cut on his cheek. Cas wasn’t sure which of them appeared more surprised, but he registered the look on the other man’s face at the same time the man reached for something at his side. Cas’s heart stopped.
A flash of metal caught Cas’s attention. A knife.Fuck. He pivoted on his heel, his backpack taking the slashing blow. He hissed, adrenaline spiking, as the blade cut through the fabric like warm butter before slicing through the skin just below Cas’s ribs. It wasn’t deep. At least, not deep enough to overpower Cas’s instincts. Blood, warm and sticky, scent cloying, trickled down Cas’s side. He ignored it, keeping his eye on his opponent, who seemed irritated to find Cas still on his feet.
The man made a wild slashing motion with the blade, but Cas was ready this time. He knocked the man’s hand away, smashing his palm into his already mangled nose. Cas grinned at the man’s yowl of pain and the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage. The man stumbled back into the bathroom. Cas didn’t look to see if he recovered, pounding down the stairs, taking them two and three at a time before emerging back out into the daylight. He waved his hand at a passing taxi, who pulled over immediately.
“Chinatown,” he huffed out. “I’ll pay you double if you take the long way.”
The driver clicked on the meter. “Whatever you say, man.”
