Page 15 of Drake
“Don’t sit if it hurts, roll back over. I want to have a look at your back.” He’s not going to settle until he’s seen it, so I roll over again.
Rafe sits down next to me, his hand stroking through my hair. A gesture not missed by Saint, but I’m grateful he doesn’t ask for an explanation. I tune out, lulled by the gentleness of Rafe’s fingertips. They talk about the best ways to treat the welts, but I don’t need to know about any of that.
I don’t think I’ve been asleep for long because both men are still next to me on the bed. It’s what was said that has me alert.
“Are you sure?” Saint hisses, his words still not much more than a whisper, but the anger is there. “Rees is the bastard who left him motherless and homeless? He doesn’t look old enough. He only looks about ten years older than me.”
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this now, but his mum was only a kid when she had him. They were only in their mid-twenties when they left him.”
“So, Rees knew about Drake being in the scene? How the hell did he find that out or was it just by chance, wrong place at the wrong time? He groomed him for that scene. I’m going to rip his fucking legs off and beat him to death with them.” Saint is genuinely outraged for me.
“You don’t need to; Drake has sorted it all out. That arsehole is in deep shit. Drake emptied his bank accounts and used all his credit cards, sending them into default. He’s a genius.”
“I’m not. I’m just a vindictive bastard with the means to make him hurt for so much longer than he has me. I doubt he’ll ever get back on his feet. His mortgage now shows he hasn’t made a payment for nearly a year, and his work has beeninformed he is a drug dealer and pimp—his many arrests for them and theft. The first two are true, the other is new.” I twist to look at my brother. “Not a word from you to anyone, especially not Pops; this would kill him.”
“Christ, Drake. How the hell do you know how to do that kind of stuff. You’re scary as fuck, bro.” Saint looks a little pale. All the blood has drained from his face.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” I chuckle, then look at Rafe. “You blabbed. I knew you’d tell him.”
“I’m sorry, but someone other than me needs to know, especially when I’m away from you again.” Rafe’s sad expression matches the one in my heart. That we’ll be leaving each other’s lives again soon. Who knows for how long this time.
“Why have I never heard of you?” Saint asks, cluelessly. “You look kinda familiar, but I know Drake doesn’t talk about you. You obviously care deeply for each other, so what’s going on?”
Well, isn’t that the million-dollar question.
It’s another five days before I’m comfortable wearing clothes and being out in public. Rafe left a couple of days ago; he’s back in the recording studio, and from the number of songs he wrote while sitting quietly with me, he’s got an album worth; Hell, he sang a few to me and damn, he’s good.
I hate how empty my apartment is now. It’s big by most standards and expensive. I worked hard, bloody hard in dangerous places, and I love the light, airy rooms, the high ceilings, and huge windows. Thanks to Pops calling it my Swank Palace, my brothers call it Wank Palace. Each brother has been over since Rafe left, not getting the heads up until Saint told them. Knox is the first; he’s his usual calm and quiet brother, but still waters run deep.
I remember the first time he walked into our parents’ home. A starved, scared, virtually silent, but angry kid. He took the longest to calm down, to loosen his hold on the metal chains around his heart, but now he’s one of the most passionate, determined, and vocal man I know.
Today, he takes one look at me and loses his voice. For a full three minutes, we stay locked in a tight embrace as he curbs his need to fight, to scream, and to shout.
“Can you please stop squeezing so hard, you oaf. Your muscles are fucking huge,” I grunt. Chuckling, he sighs and releases me.
“Sorry. But shit, bro. You scared the shit out of all of us. You better show up at dads’ on Sunday, or you’ll have Pops to answer to.” He tries to sound all bossy, but I know my closest brother, and he’s been worried about me. We know that no one is supposed to talk outside the walls of Bound or any private club. But the gym we own—and Knox manages—has many members from the club, and we all know they talk, however quiet they think they are. Not much gets past Knox.
“Get it off your chest, Knox. I know something is eating you up.” I don’t know what I’m going to get. This could be about Rees, Rafe, or how the fuck I, an experienced sub, got it all so wrong.
He sighs. “Fine, your scene has become known to just about every member. And, Drake, I promise you, everyone is behind you. No one has seen or heard from Rees since that night. I think there are more than a few Doms who would like to find him. Apparently, Rees cut the feed from the camera in the room you were in. No one knows when or if he did it alone, but Alan is ripping the place to pieces, and new camera systems and video links have been ordered. It’s being taken very fucking seriously, bro.”
Alan is the owner, and I appreciate how determined he is to never let this happen to anyone again. “He’s not worth it; he’s been waiting for me. He planned the whole thing. He’s wanted to hurt me since I was a little boy. He’s done it, so he’ll leave me alone now.” I flex my shoulders so hard that the tight skin is aching. I need a workout. “I need to get to the gym,” I tell him. “You up for spotting me?”
“Sure, as long as everything has healed, and you’re not going to split any scabs open.”
“Nope, all healed. I had an excellent nurse,” I smirk, not saying anymore.
“Yeah, I heard. I’m happy for you. Go get your gear. Do you wanna change here rather than the locker room?”
I nod. I’m glad he mentioned it; I hadn’t thought about it.
I breathe the smell of the gym deep into my lungs. It’s not dirty or sweaty. It’s hot and familiar, a part of me.
The room is packed with men and women working out on machines and with weights. Royal has a group of tweenies playing football. Not one person has stopped and looked at me though there are a few nods and smiles. No one stops what they’re doing.
“Give me a couple of minutes to get changed; go warm up. I’m not letting you lift any weights today, just some cardio, maybe some leg work.”
“Yes, Dad,” I drawl, but he only chuckles at me.
