Chapter 30

 

Rio

 

Rio stretched his sore muscles as he lay alone in the bed. Rake had given his ass a pounding as he worked off the frustration of their argument and the fear from the shootout. Rio had gathered him close after they’d showered off the sweat and come and run his hand over his back and into his hair. He’d repeated the pattern until Rake fell asleep. Rio had lain awake for a while afterward, but he’d drifted off.

He checked his phone and answered a group message from his family, and one from Carter. Still early, at eight p.m., his stomach growled to remind him they’d skipped dinner. He rolled out of bed and got dressed.

“Rake?” The apartment was quiet, the bathroom empty. He grabbed his phone and called him while he walked into the kitchen. Voice mail.

“Hey, where are—” A note on the refrigerator made him stop. “You went to the meet with Corsetti without telling me?” he continued in the voice message. A rush of anxiety rolled through him, and he tried to slow his breathing. “Rake, be careful. God, I can’t believe—look, I know you don’t have a lot of experience with relationships from what you’ve told me, but you should have woken me and told me. Please, please, come back in one piece.” He hung up, wishing he’d said I love you.

His fingers tingled with the need to call Judge, but he was scared to interrupt something dangerous. He cursed. He’d already risked it with Rake’s phone. Judge had enough sense to silence his phone, but what if it was the one time he hadn’t, and Rio’s call got him or others hurt? He’d have to wait.

A slip of paper on the floor by the front door caught his eye. He picked it up and saw an address. He opened his map app and typed it in. The outskirts of the city near the speedway.

What would he do once he got there? He’d be in the way. But wasn’t Rake in the way too?

It would be stupid. Reckless.

Rake’s keys sat on the kitchen counter, begging to be used.

“I’ll just stay in the car. I won’t go in.”

He grabbed his wallet and locked the door on his way out.

 

***

 

Rake

 

The vibrating phone ripped Rake from a deep sleep, and he grabbed it before it woke Rio. He’d passed out after two rounds of vigorous sex, and Rio had soon followed him into dreamland.

“Hello?” he mumbled as he ducked into the bathroom.

“It’s Judge. Tonight, at ten. We’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

He rubbed at the crust in his eye, and asked, “Why do I have to go?”

“Corsetti insisted. I guess he figures if a civilian is there, there’s less likely to be gunfire. From our end anyway. I’m sure he also wants a witness who isn’t a cop. Wear black.”

Rake stared at his phone after Judge hung up. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t care if it made him a coward. Fistfights he could do, but guns were not his thing. When the shots erupted on the street below, his bowels had rumbled in fear. Kind of ridiculous that someone who made a living off violence was scared. But he was only human.

Rake snorted at himself. He’d have to get over it if he wanted this shit to end. He tiptoed into the bedroom and grabbed some black jeans and a black shirt and hoodie. Rio lay naked in Rake’s bed, skin burnished gold in the low light, gorgeous ass peeking halfway out of the sheets.

Oh, he was going to be pissed, but there was no way he’d drag Rio along and put him in the line of potential fire.

He dressed in the living room, scribbled a note to Rio and pinned it to the fridge, then opened the door when footsteps echoed in the hall.

Judge’s hand was raised, ready to knock. “Eager much? I thought you didn’t want to go.” He wore black tactical pants and a long-sleeved black shirt.

“I don’t. I just want to get this over with.”

“Where’s River?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping?” he asked, astonished. “And he knows you’re leaving to meet Corsetti?”

Rake stared at Judge, then glanced over his shoulder. “Um.”

Judge snorted and tried to push past him.

“I don’t want him to worry,” Rake said as he blocked the way. “If we’re lucky, he’ll sleep through the whole thing.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to tell him when you see him next?”

Shrugging, Rake said, “That we have the chance for a brand-new start.”

Judge pinched his nose and sighed. “Rake, he doesn’t have a bad heart, so he’s not going to drop dead from fright. You don’t have to shield him.” Judge’s eyes pierced through him. “Did he tell you anything about his past?”

“You mean that asshole Mackie, or whatever?”

“Yes. If you know about him, then you know how much Rio values open and honest communication.”

Rake’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled. “You want him there?”

“No.”

“So, you want him sitting here by himself worrying about both of us?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and scowled. “All right, fine. But if he gets pissed, duck and cover. And I am so pointing all ten of my fingers at you.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Judge led the way to the car parked under a dark streetlamp. West was behind the wheel, dressed the same as Judge. They drove toward Nellis while Judge told him the rules, with the occasional interjection from West.

“Don’t engage with anyone unless I give you the okay. If the shooting starts, duck and run. Don’t wait for us, just run.” And so on. He stopped listening after the third time he reminded Rake to run.

West parked a few blocks away. Judge had explained that arriving first was in their best interests to get the lay of the land. They’d already studied the blueprints, but nothing compared to direct sight. The trunk popped open, and they handed Rake a bulletproof vest.

“Tight.”

Judge smirked. They loaded up with guns, batons, and extra ammo, and set off on foot to the rendezvous point.

West stopped Rake at the corner of a building while Judge jogged ahead. Huge, round, white buildings surrounded them. Rake smelled fuel and oil, the air dry and hot. They were near the air base and the speedway. Every now and then, the zoom of engines floated on the wind.

They waited next to an admin building for the site. Does Corsetti own this place? He wanted to ask West but bit his tongue. They’d specifically told him not to speak unless it was an emergency.

Rake started when West gestured for him to follow. It was hard to place his feet without sound like the Marshals did. He wasn’t crunching on fallen leaves, but gravel and other stuff shifted underfoot.

They entered a smaller building of what looked like offices, and Rake went to stand behind Judge.

Corsetti, dressed in a blue suit and loafers, stood by another door made of opaque glass. “Bit early, aren’t you?”

Judge moved his shoulders. “So are you.”

The harsh tone surprised him. Not that he wanted them to coddle Corsetti, but they did need his cooperation. Although, West said he had something Corsetti wanted. Rake had no idea what he’d been talking about and frankly, he didn’t want to.

West stepped forward and stood at full height, arms loose at his sides. “I’m the Head of IOD in Utah, US Marshal Gannin West. You have information regarding certain individuals involved in organized crime?”

Corsetti leaned against the wall, bright eyes on Judge, then flicked them at Rake. “I do. What are you going to offer me?”

“Witness Protection.”

Corsetti never took his eyes from West’s. “Fine. But I’ll not be testifying in court. I will give you physical deposition and physical evidence. That’s all. And I want him to lead my case.” Corsetti nodded at Judge.

This surprised both Marshals, and they glanced at each other.

“He’s an investigator, not WP—”

“I don’t care. He can still investigate, but I’ll go through him and only him.”

Corsetti’s voice was strange. An accent slipped in on certain words, one that Rake had never heard.

West rubbed at his furry chin. “Why?”

“Because I saw him in action, and I know he’ll do what it takes to keep me alive.”

West and Judge had a conversation with their eyes. How they could see in the dim room was anyone’s guess.

A shoe scuffed and both Marshals pulled their guns.