He’s right though—there’s no way I’m going to be lifting any weights soon. I wander up to an empty treadmill and start to warm up, easing the speed up slowly until I’m running. I hadn’t realised how much I needed to stretch my legs, to get my heart rate up, maybe for the first time since that fucking sadist walked out of the room. The faster I go, the harder I push myself after nearly two weeks of being stuck in my apartment, the angrier I become. I let some bastard hurt me so much I called Rafe.
I could’ve called any of my brothers, and they would have given me the same care. No, I needed him; he’s not my Dom anymore, but Rafe knows me better than anyone else, and his touch would help my mind heal as much as my body.
His kiss was so sweet, so tender. I knew it wasn’t goodbye. It was goodbye for now.
Knox moves into my line of vision; I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost stumble. “Where’s the fire, bro?”
I jump to the sides and hit the stop button. “I’ve got a lot going on in my head. I need to get some work, just some short-term jobs. I’ve been slacking, and my bank account doesn’t like that. I’m going to see Dad and Pops. Do you wanna come?”
“Nah, I’m good. I went around yesterday. They’ll be happy to see you.” He taps the top of the treadmill and wanders down the line to talk to other members.
My phone rings as I walk across the car park to my car. The name on the screen causes me to stop virtually mid-step. Rupert Pilkington, aka my old boss. Even after so long away from that world, I knew I could get a call one day. Like he said, you never leave that life.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I answer, politely. He may not be in charge of me anymore, but the man deserves my respect.
“Drake, how are you?” His voice is still as clipped as I remember, but it’s polite, almost friendly.
“I’m good, sir. Surprised to hear from you after so long.” I have a feeling I’m not going to like the reason behind this conversation.
“Well, yes. It’s the old saying: you can take the man out of the club, but not the club from the man. We have a couple of jobs coming up that are just perfect for you. What do you say?”
“Um, is this a rhetorical question?” I know the answer. This isn’t something I can say no to. “When would you like me to come in?”
“That’s the attitude, young man. Tomorrow at eleven am.”
“I’ll see you then.” The line goes dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not what I need right now, yes, I need to work, but is this the kind of work that’s good for me at this moment? I continue to my car and drop down in my seat. It takes me a few deep breaths and knocking my head on the steering wheel a couple of times to pull myself together. If anything, it will generously bump my bank account up.
I start the car and drive over to dads’. I know the whole Rees slash Warrior incident has been kept from them. I know Pops would want to take it to the police, and Dad would be hunting him down. I push the handle on the front door. “Hey, I hope you’re decent,” I call out as I step inside.
“Drake?” Dad asks as he walks out of the living room. “Hello, stranger.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Something came up. It’s all sorted now.”
He looks at me shrewdly. “Okay, I’ll let you have that. You’re okay now?”
I sigh, heavily. “You know.” It’s not a question.
“I do, but your Pops doesn’t. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You brought it up, not me,” I tell him, making him smile wryly. “I am okay, I promise.”
Just then Pops walks in from the garage, his smile bright. Yeah, he has no clue. “Drake, how lovely. Come on in the kitchen. I made a coffee and walnut cake this morning.”
“I’m not going to say no to that.”
It’s an easy couple of hours. Pops, so enthusiastic about Memphis, a kid they’d fostered for three years. I wasn’t around much, what with joining the army, but he was a cute kid. Now the interesting fact is Royal’s reaction to him. And as much as we shouldn’t be gossiping about them, it’s fun to know Royal, the usually level-headed brother, is tripping up left, right, and centre as he tries to get it right.
“I’m going to London tomorrow. Pilkington called; he’s got a couple of jobs he needs me to do.” I purposely left saying this until I’m ready to go. They both know who Pilkington is and what he’ll want from me.
“Oh, Drake, I thought you’d finished with all of that.” Pops is immediately worried about me.
“It won’t be like before. I can’t exactly say no. It’s not how it works. I’ll see you soon.”
“I need you.” The broken voice comes down the line.
“Drake? Babe, what’s happened?” This is not good; he sounds bad. “Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No! No ambulance, just you. I need you.” He’s crying. I’ve never heard him cry before, and it sends a dagger sharp pain through my heart.
