“I don’t think he can, boss.”
My brow creased. “What do you mean?” He looked at Remo and I got the feeling he was asking my brother for support. “What the fuck’s going on, Dario? Get down there. Tell Rayden to climb into his car and go back home.”
My bodyguard shifted from one foot to the other. “He’s broken.”
“What do you mean?” A jerk of fear had me springing to my feet the same time Remo let out a curse.
“He’s drunk. The little I could understand, I figured someone broke his heart.” Dario’s gaze met mine. “I think he needs you, boss.”
I let out a harsh exhale, my heart ready to claw its way up my throat and I glanced at Remo. His usual smirk was replaced with one of concern, I doubted I’d ever seen before. Wordlessly, I walked out the room with Remo and Dario close on my trail.
When I reached the gate, Rayden was sitting on the paved driveway, leaning against the closed door of his car, his chin resting on his chest. Security opened the gate and while it rolled back, I slipped through. I stopped next to Rayden and stared down at him. He’d grown since I’d last seen him, he looked taller and a lot more muscular. He’d probably have some smug comeback if I complimented his build.
Dropping to my haunches, I touched his shoulder. “Rayden.” He didn’t stir and I said his name again.
Slowly, his head lifted, and he blinked to focus his gaze on me. “You came,” he slurred, lifting a hand to touch me. It dropped when he struggled to keep it up. “I told them you would.” His head rolled to the side.
Something cracked, and my stomach twisted. I dragged in deep breaths, hoping it would pass then my gaze fell to his bust lip, the cut looked fresh. Frowning, I glanced up at Dario who stood behind me, next to Remo. “What happened to his mouth?” Without a word, he looked at Tommy, one of the two security guards that manned the gate. I stood. “What happened to his mouth, Tommy.” The man dropped his gaze to the floor as if realized he’d fucked up. He did. Anger pissed through me, turning my vision red. “I said, what the fuck happened to his fucking mouth.” My gun went off and Tommy dropped to the ground, clutching his knee.
“I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t know who he was. He was trying to force me to open the gate,” Tommy sobbed like a fucking pussy. “I’m sorry.”
I pointed my gun at him, wanting to end his life when Remo clamped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Renz.”
Nodding, I dropped back to my haunches, slid my arms under Rayden’s armpits and lifted. As I straightened, he sagged against me and I locked my hands around his waist, keeping him tight against my body and his face in the crook of my neck.
Both Dario and Remo moved forward to help me. I shook my head. “Get the door.” I gestured with my chin to Rayden’s Porsche. Dario opened it and stepped away. Securing Rayden into the passenger seat, I jumped behind the wheel and hit the start button. I looked at him for a second, wondering who’d hurt him so badly that he’d drank himself to pass out point.
How the fuck had he managed to drive drunk and still find his way to my home. Shaking my head, I tapped the gas. My question was answered when the car lurched forward, and glass clinked behind the seat. I glanced back, taking in several empty bottles of whiskey. He’d probably driven here, waited outside and after drinking himself stupid, it gave him the courage to drive up to my gate.
When I parked the car and walked around to his side, he fell into my arms the second I opened the door and released the seatbelt. Thankful for my strong body and muscular arms, I lifted him with ease, carried him to one of the guest bedrooms and set him down on the bed. A couple of minutes later, I had him undressed and under the covers.
I took a moment to study him, comparing him to the boy who’d walked into my life and left it in chaos with his departure. Letting out a slow exhale, I turned to leave and stopped at the sudden tug on my wrist.
I turned. Rayden’s fingers were wrapped around my wrist, his eyes, puffy and bloodshot, on me. Tears leaked down his temples and I swallowed the shards of glass in my throat.
“You won’t break my heart too, will you, Lorenzo?” he whispered.
With the next exhale, the tendons between my shoulder blades knotted and my chest crushed in on itself until an ache so intense speared the walls. Was I having a fucking heart attack? The burn rolling through my veins threatening to unbalance my emotions once more. Startled by the reaction, I blinked to clear my glazed vision, remembering the last time he’d asked me the question.
This time I didn’t give him a philosophical answer, I gave him the truth. “Never.”
Licking his lips, he closed his eyes, the tears still a silent river down in his temples. Then he turned, wrapped his arms around a pillow and clutched it tightly to his body. I tried to walk away, to drown out those ragged anguish-filled sobs, hating how the sound resonated through my body, filling my chest and burrowing deep. At the door, I stopped and stared at the frosted glass, my fists clenched at my sides, the echo of sniffles bouncing off my back. Fuck. I wanted to ignore him, disregard his pain, snub his breaking heart because that’s what I did well—avoided emotional shit.
I couldn’t.
Before I could question my actions, my feet pivoted and reached the side of the bed like an automated machine. I slid down beside him, and with my chest to his back, the top of his head tucked under my chin, I curled my body around his, draping a hand over his waist. “It’s okay, Rayden.” I whispered and almost pulled away when he released the pillow, laced his fingers with mine and clutched it to his chest. His body trembled with each exhaled sniffle and tightened the gap between us.
Fuck. I balked. This shit wasn’t happening. The last time it did, I was told to suck it up, warned against feeling for someone close to me, threatened that if I did, I’d meet the same fate.
“Mateo.” I muttered under my breath. I looked out the window, letting my thoughts drift into the darkness beyond and unconsciously remembering my brother’s last moments.
“Hey, fucker, you ready to go?” I shout from the landing, excited to go watch ‘Gone in 60 Seconds’ hitting the theatre’s today. It’s my eighteenth birthday treat. “What the fuck, Mateo, are you coming?” Annoyed, I walk to his room and bang on the door. No answer. I open his door and peek inside. Nothing. “Tae,” I call out, walking toward the bathroom.
I put my ear to the door and listen. Last time I walked in unannounced, the fucker was wanking off to a magazine with big tits on the cover. It was all I glimpsed before he kicked my ass out of there. I grin at the memory. Somewhere in the house I can hear Rocco, our Rottweiler bark. I focus again on the bathroom door. Silence. I try the doorknob and it opens. I don’t see it at first or maybe I’m just blanking out the vision in front of me, I can’t tell. Then everything moves into focus in one forceful blow.
The large white porcelain tub with silver claw like legs. The large pool of pink water that looks like an artist’s spilled can of paint against the white marble tile. I pause. It’s too thick to be water. My mind rewinds. Blood. It’s thick, red blood. It’s Mateo’s blood, dripping from the bare arm hanging over the side of the tub.
No! “Mateo!” I shout, not recognizing that pain around my chest. I rush forward, my new sneakers and jeans soaking the sticky redness. I don’t care. “Mateo,” I yell, shaking his shoulder.
