by Lane Hart
Cain
I fall asleep around one a.m. trying to stay awake for Gabby, but knowing it’ll be a few more hours until she gets off work. Knox offered to go meet her and walk her home, because he never turns down a chance to flirt with the dancers.
So when the bedroom door suddenly slams open, I sit up in a panic right before the bright overhead lights come on.
I’m still trying to blink through the temporary blindness when I finally notice it’s Knox in my room and Gabby’s in his arms. What wakes me right up is the fact that Gabby’s wearing Knox’s gray hoodie and her lower body is naked.
“What the fuck happened!” I exclaim, scrambling out of bed as Knox brings a sobbing Gabby to me and hands her over.
“She was…she had to…” Knox tries to explain. “Mario made her…”
“Made her what?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Gabby, what did he do?” I ask, but she only buries her face in my chest and cries.
“Tonight he made her go on stage,” Knox supplies. “At first, I was in the back with Jasmine. But when we came out to the main room, that’s when I realized it was Gabby dancing…”
Holding her to me, I look down at the hoodie and grit out, “What was she wearing?”
“I’m sorry, bro.”
“What was she wearing?” I ask him again, unable to even look at him. I’m not allowed in Escapades, so he was supposed to keep a fucking eye on her for me.
“Just the heels and a thong,” he answers.
“Fuck!” I exclaim.
“I’m sorry. When I left you and went inside, she was at the front counter. Then, a few minutes later…I had no idea that would happen.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call me? Did anyone touch her?” I ask, knowing I should be angry at Mario and not my friend.
“Not that I know of,” Knox answers. “And I…I tried to get her down, but she wouldn’t leave. Not until closing.”
“Closing? How many times…”
“Three, that I saw. She went on once every hour.”
“Jesus Christ!”
If Gabby wasn’t a bawling mess in my arms, I would be out the door and going after Mario right this fucking second. He made my innocent girl strip naked in front of all those men, not once but three goddamn times!
“After last call, I found her curled up in a ball on the floor backstage, so I, um, covered her up and brought her home,” Knox tells me.
“Are you sure no one touched her?” I ask again, my entire body trembling with barely controlled rage.
“I don’t think so. She didn’t come out to the main floor after the dances like most girls.”
“That doesn’t mean shit,” I snap at him.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll go and let you try to talk to her,” he says with a sigh. “Sorry this happened, Cain.”
“Thanks for getting her home,” I tell him before he leaves and shuts the door behind him.
Gabby cries for several more minutes. And when she finally starts to settle down, I get her tucked in the bed, figuring it’s best if she just stays in the sweatshirt for now. I only let her go just long enough to turn off the overhead light.
As soon as I climb back under the sheets, she reaches for me, still sniffling through tears. It breaks my fucking heart to see her this way. I swore I would never let anything happen to her and I failed. And I can’t be mad at Knox. It’s my own damn fault for not watching out for her better.
“Tell me what happened, angel,” I whisper to her as I smooth her hair back from her face. “Mario made you dance tonight?”
“Y-yes.”
“He threatened you with something?” I ask, assuming that’s the only way she would’ve given in.
“Yes.”
“What was it, angel? What did he threaten you with?”
“You,” she replies, making my chest ache.
Just like I would do anything for Gabby, she would apparently do the same for me.
“Never again, baby. Okay?” I tell her.
She nods once but doesn’t speak, which makes me think she’s not convinced.
“Did anyone touch you?” I ask and then hold my breath waiting for her response.
Finally, she whispers, “No,” which doesn’t exactly convince me.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “If so, it’s not your fault,” I tell her since she may think I’ll be upset with her if anything happened.
“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m exhausted and…and embarrassed. Let’s just get some sleep.”
“I love you,” I tell her with a kiss to the top of her head.
“Love you too,” she replies.
…
Early the next morning, way too early, I wake up with a dry mouth. Slipping away from a still sleeping Gabby, I head for the kitchen in my boxer briefs to grab a glass of water.
“Cain,” Ivan calls out when I walk through the living room.
“What?” I grumble, still half asleep. Every night that we don’t hear any news on Robbie, Gabby tosses and turns more and more. Last night was even worse after the shit that happened at Escapades. That means I haven’t gotten much sleep either worrying about her and what the hell we’re gonna do.
“Look at this…” Ivan says. Pointing the remote in his hand at the television, he turns the volume up a few notches so that we can hear the reporter, who is standing on a bridge, more clearly.
“Police have not yet identified the body that washed up here on the shores of the White Oak River, but the remains appear to be that of a white male in his early to mid-twenties. Authorities believe he was beaten and concussed antemortem. Anyone with information is asked to contact the Raleigh Police Department.”
“Holy fuck,” I mutter as I sink down on the sofa cushion while stabbing my fingers through my hair. “Holy. Fuck.”
“Do you think it could be him?” Ivan whispers because, of course, he knows that Robbie’s been missing.
“Fuck, I don’t know. I hope not,” I say, because even if I hate the asshole for trying to ruin my life, I didn’t want him to wash up dead like that. Gabby will be crushed if that’s him… “Turn it off before she hears!” I tell Ivan. “There’s no reason to worry her until we know for sure–”
“What are you guys talking about?” Gabby asks when she comes out of the bedroom in nothing but Knox’s gray hoodie that she slept in last night. Before either of us can respond, though, the doorbell rings, and it’s way too early for visitors.
“I’ll get it,” Gabby happily offers before turning around to go answer the door. “Maybe it’s Robbie!”
Ivan and I both race to the door to try and beat her there. But by the time we reach it, Gabby has already opened it and standing on the other side is a group of uniformed police officers lurking behind no other than homicide detective Horton.
Fuck.
“Can I help you?” Gabby asks, her voice shaking with nervousness at the crowd.
“We’re looking for Knox Engle, Ivan Rivers, and Cain Knight,” the detective says before lifting her eyes over Gabby’s head to stare at me and Ivan.
“Ahh,” Gabby mutters before she looks over her shoulder and sees us standing there.
“What’s going on?” I step up beside Gabby and ask, slipping my arm around her waist to pull her to me. I was expecting them to take me away in handcuffs or lay on her the fact that they found her dead brother, not come and fucking ask for me and the guys. Another surprise — I had no idea Knox had Mrs. Engle’s last name because we’ve always been on a first name basis only since we were kids.
The detective eyes me and says, “So we meet again Cain. And are you Ivan?” the woman asks my buddy, who must nod, because I don’t hear his response. “So where’s Knox?”
“Um, let me get him for you,” I offer before I start to turn around.
“I’ll go with you,” the detective chick says.
“Are you sure about that, Horton? Do you need backup?” one of the men asks. She doesn’t respond, just follows me down the hallway to th
e bedroom.
The door is closed, so I knock on it before I turn the knob.
“Yo, Knox, wake up,” I tell him when I walk in the room. He’s passed out flat on his stomach asleep, still snoring even. “Knox!” I say again when I’m next to him, giving his shoulder a shake. My hand is trembling enough that I probably only needed to lay it on him. This is not fucking good.
“What’s up?” Knox finally grumbles, eyes still closed.
“Get up, man. The police are here asking for us,” I tell him. That makes his blue eyes fly open. He looks at me, and then his gaze cuts over to the detective crowding my ass.
“Ooh, I think I like this game,” Knox says. Rolling over, he stretches his arms up and behind his head. “Hey, baby. You got any handcuffs on you?”
“Actually, I do,” Detective Horton replies. She pulls out a pair of steel cuffs from behind her back and dangles them in front of her.
“Hell yeah,” Knox says, holding out both of his wrists. “Forget good cop. Slap ‘em on me so we can get right to bad cop.”
“Knox, man,” I start, barely catching myself before I slip and say this shit is serious. The detective hasn’t even said what the hell it’s about, so I can’t say anything that would screw us over. The fact that she wants Ivan and Knox too makes me confident that it’s not about the fire investigation, but about Robbie.
Detective Horton steps forward and clicks the cuffs on Knox’s wrists, before telling him, “You’re not under arrest, but since you insisted…”
Relieved at hearing that, I ask, “So then what’s going on?”
She pulls her eyes away from Knox to look at me. “You three are wanted for questioning.”
“Questioning for what?” I ask.
“You’ll find out when we get to the station, won’t you?” she replies before turning back to Knox. “Come on. Get your ass out of bed.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’m certain we’d have more fun playing this game under the sheets,” Knox responds before he uses his elbow to push himself up into a sitting position now that his hands are cuffed. When he stands, the sheets fall away, and it’s immediately obvious that he was sleeping in the nude.
“Jesus!” the detective mutters, but she doesn’t look away from his nudity. I know because I keep my eyes on her. “Put some fucking clothes on!”
“Why? So you can take them off of me?” Knox asks. I can barely restrain myself from slapping him upside his head. Of all the times to dick around, this is not one of them.
“Get dressed,” I tell him while keeping my head turned away.
“Hard to do with my hands cuffed,” he replies. “Help me out, Cain.”
“No fucking way,” I say, because even with the shitstorm swirling around us, there’s no way I’m going anywhere near Knox’s cock.
“Sit down on the bed,” the detective orders.
I assume she helps slip boxers over his feet, because a minute later Knox says, “Shit, that tickles.” Eventually, I hear the jingle of his jeans and belt.
“Forget the shirt, and let’s go,” the detective says before she grabs Knox’s elbow and pushes him out the door in front of me. At least she gave him some shoes. It’s a wonder she didn’t give him a black eye for the shit he just pulled. She could’ve just uncuffed him; but for some reason, she left them in place and helped him dress.
At the front door, the male officers’ eyes widen when they see Knox in cuffs.
“He give you trouble, Horton? Try to resist?” one asks.
“Nope,” she answers without further explanation.
“Can I get dressed?” I ask since I notice Ivan is missing and must be putting clothes on.
“After Rivers is back. And one of the male officers will have to go with you,” the detective answers.
Goddamn it.
“What’s going on?” Gabby asks me while we wait for Ivan.
“I don’t know, angel. Just stay here and try not to worry,” I whisper to her, even if I have an inkling based on the body that washed up and the fact that Ivan, Knox and I all fight for the Italian mob.
Robbie must be dead, and I might very well be his killer.
I really wish the detective bitch would just come out and tell us what the hell is going on.
…
A few hours of twiddling my thumbs nervously alone while sitting in the same small interrogation room as before, and I finally find out.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the sassy detective says when she comes into the room with a tall, buff, uniformed officer, who remains standing in front of the door. Pulling out the metal chair opposite me, she sits down and says, “Unlike you, your friends were very talkative.”
Bullshit. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.
I bet Ivan barely spoke a word to her. And if Knox talked, it was nothing but him rambling nonsense, trying to be funny.
“So,” she starts, placing a manila envelope down on the table and clasping her hands together on top of it. “Is there anything you would like to tell me?” she asks.
“Nope,” I reply, leaning back casually in my chair.
“Nothing you want to get off your chest?” she prods.
“How about, do I need a lawyer?” I ask. “Aren’t you supposed to read me some rights and shit before you ask me questions?”
“Only if you’re under arrest, which you’re not,” she replies, leaning back in her chair to mimic my posture before brushing her long, auburn hair behind her shoulder.
“So, why am I here?” I ask. “You said you have some questions. Ask them so I can go home.”
“Right,” she says with a nod. “I do have a few questions, and I would love to see if your answers match that of your friends.”
Fuck. She’s trying to screw with us, catch one of us in a lie. That’s why she kept us all apart for hours. But I know my boys, and they wouldn’t talk about anything that would bite us in the ass. Just like I won’t.
“Go for it,” I tell her, just ready to be done with this shit and get back to Gabby.
“Do you know a Robert Kelly?”
“Yep,” I answer short and sweet.
“How?”
“We worked out at the same gym.”
“Worked out?” she repeats.
“Yeah, lifted weights and shit.”
“Why did you say it in the past tense?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.
Fuck me. Nothing is gonna get by this chick.
“Because Robbie split. I haven’t seen him at the gym in over a week,” I tell her.
“You don’t think he decided to take a week off to binge on Netflix and cookies?”
“No, he was there every day, and then he up and disappeared.”
“That is unusual,” she agrees with a nod. “Where do you think he is?”
Dead.
“No idea,” I say. “If you see him, tell him his sister is worried sick about him.”
“His sister, Gabrielle Kelly? The pretty blonde back at the apartment?”
“Yep.”
“She’s been worried about him?”
“Yep”
“Why is that?” she asks.
“Because he’s her brother and she doesn’t think he would just up and leave town without saying goodbye to her.”
“And you think he would?” she asks.
“I don’t know what Robbie is thinking half the time. He’s a selfish bastard.”
“So you didn’t like him?”
Goddamn it. Did I really just set myself up for motive?
“Robbie didn’t like me with his sister,” I answer honestly.
“Why not?” Detective Horton asks.
“I don’t know. Because that’s what brothers do for little sisters.”
“Did he tell you he didn’t want you with Gabrielle?”
“That might be what he wanted, but neither Gabby or I cared.”
“Right,” she replies like I just answered exactly the way she wanted. The detective may not be taking notes, but I’
m not stupid enough to think they aren’t recording this whole damn interview. “So is that why he turned you in on an arson and murder charge?” Horton asks.
“No idea, because I don’t know shit about any fires,” I grumble. And fuck, that’s gonna look like motive too. Robbie turned me in, and then I beat him to death. I’m so fucking screwed.
“Fine. We’ll come back to that,” she says with a smirk. “You and Robbie have something else in common besides his sister. You’re both fighters, right?”
Ooh, she’s good, trying to trick me into casually admitting that shit.
“Fighters?” I repeat like the word is completely foreign to me. “No, we worked out together, but we weren’t fighters,” I reply coolly.
“Word on the street is that you and your boys, Ivan and Knox, all fight for Mario Guerra.”
“We don’t fight for anything except over who gets the remote back at the apartment,” I lie.
“That’s not what Ivan said.”
Bullshit.
The word nearly leaves my lips, because trying to get Ivan to talk is harder than pulling teeth. Teeth eventually give in, but not him.
“Where were you two weeks ago on Friday night, November tenth?” she nails me with the question so fast I can’t even think quick enough to lie.
“I don’t keep a calendar on me,” I tell her to buy me some time. “But if it was Friday night, I was probably at Escapades where my girl works.” The lie sounds good since she won’t know I’m not allowed there.
“Isn’t that club also owned and operated by Mario Guerra?”
“I have no idea who runs it or owns it. I just go to make sure men keep their hands off my girl,” I reply.
“Who was fighting that night?” she asks.
“I have no idea. But I’m sure lots of people get into fights on weekends.”
Leaning forward on her forearms, Detective Horton asks, “Who was fighting for Mario that night besides Robert Kelly?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” I answer. “If Robbie was fighting, then you should probably ask him who was with him.”
“Hmm,” she mutters, forehead creased before she leans back in her chair and flips up the prongs on the manila envelope. “Unfortunately, Mr. Kelly isn’t able to tell anyone anything.” Pulling back the flap, she reaches inside the large envelope and pulls out what looks like an eight by ten photo. She stares at it for a moment before she turns it around and slaps it right the fuck down in front of me.
