Page 90 of Dangle

Rage engulfed me, making tears burn through my nasal passages and the backs of my eyes. “Sometimes, physical pain is easier to deal with, baby boy, so it’s not good that what you’re dealing with makes you feel the need to make the wish. The making it isn’t what’s bad,” I said, thankful for the shitty connection because as hard as I tried to sound normal, I knew I probably didn’t.

Me

And no. He’s not.

Taz

Let me know if you need bail money and remember you’re a trained killer. Don’t go Con Air on me.

He nodded but stayed silent except for some sniffling and a few sobs he wasn’t able to contain.

“What can I do?” Sometimes people didn’t want fixes. Sometimes, they just wanted to be seen and heard, but I was a fucking fixer, goddammit, and my boy sounded broken down in the worst way.

“Would you come to New York? I’ll pay for…”

As if. “No need. And yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can, alright. I’m leaving for the airport as soon as I pack.”

Trey had a full-blown, ugly-crying meltdown. I had to remind myself that I couldn’t take a weapon on the plane and that killing people was illegal. Luckily for me anyway, I didn’t need a weapon to take someone down, and I could inflict a lot of fucking damage without leaving a single fucking mark on my target.

“Baby, I need to go so I can get packed and on a plane. Can you take a few deep breaths for me so you don’t get sick?”

He nodded, shook his head no, then nodded again. All while still fucking bawling. I made my way out the back door of the office for the stairs, taking them two at a time, and doing the same to the ones in my loft. I grabbed my garment duffel and roller bag, filling them both with casual wear and several suits and my tux since I had no clue what kind of shitstorm I was walking into.

Taz

Nothing today, but give me a minute.

“When…”he hiccuped, then continued,“…when will you be here?”

Fuck it. I’d take my bike if I had to.

Taz

Okay. You’re good. You’re hitching a ride with Katie and Jackson. They’re flying back to PA from LA. Walker’s handling the logistics. You just get to the private terminal.

Thank fuck.

Me

Thanks, man. Can you pass that along to Walker?

“I’m walking out the door with my bags now, baby boy. I’m hitching a ride with Bauer and Asher’s cousin, who’s flying back from LA.”

That got his attention, and he asked, albeit with still a few sniffles and tears,“You’re flying on Katie Carter’s private jet?”

“Baby, I don’t know who owns the plane, only that they’re giving me a ride,” I explained, disappointed my boy was too upset to make jokes about riding me like he had every time I used the word since our first night together.

Taz

Will do, but no thanks needed. Family takes care of its own and I’m sure Walker would say the same. Meet you outside. I’ll drive you to the airport then take your place behind the bar.

Me

Shit. I’m on the schedule for the next week.

Taz

No worries. I’ll handle it. And Grigor when he has a meltdown because you left without telling him.