MIGUELTwo days since our last confrontation, and I'd changed shifts...I slid out of bed like I was being chased, the sheets tangling around my legs as I let out a shaky breath.I looked at the clock. 5:13. It was too early, but sleep wasn’t coming back. It had taken hours for me to sleep but right now, I needed to move even if it meant losing valuable rest. My head pounded, and my body ached, but I couldn’t stay in this house for another second. I yanked on my favourite washed jeans, a shirt and sneakers, grabbed my jacket, and bolted out the door.I got to the diner fast, pushed through the back entrance, and clocked in. The place was quiet save for the hum of the fridge and the faint sizzle from the grill. I tied my apron, started the coffee pots, and wiped down the counter. People started trickling in, early risers looking for eggs and toast. I served them fast, my hands moving on autopilot. “Two creams?” I asked a guy in a suit, pouring before he even nodded. He grunted his a
SALVATOREFire licked my skin, the flames blazing wildly as my fingers found his hair, those soft curls. Miguel’s lips pressed against mine, urgent, warm, pulling me into an orbit that I couldn’t rip out of. His breath hitched, a low sound escaping him, and his hands gripped my shoulders, clinging tight, shameless in the moment. I couldn’t explain this ache in my chest, this pull I didn’t want to fight. His body leaned into me, syncing with mine, and I held him closer.His arms wove around me, his fingers digging into my back. I could feel every tremble, every shift. He moaned softly. The sound vibrated through me and I tightened my grip, lost in the warmth of him. We moved together, tangled and close, his heat blending with mine. I couldn’t let go. I didn’t want to, even as my mind spun, trying to name this feeling. It was more than want. It was a raw need, deep, blazing in my bones like a furnace.I pulled back suddenly, my breath ragged, and grabbed his wrist. “Come on,” I said
MIGUEL“Thank you for coming,” I smiled brightly at the customer until I was scared that my cheeks would fall off. He slipped me a tip, a crumpled five, and I hastily pocketed it and gave my appreciation. “Have a good one.” I turned back to the counter. My hands were still shaky from the mess earlier. What the fuck did I do? What did I allow to happen?I had made a terrible mistake, a mistake that was going to cause a lot of trouble. I was confused and tangled up inside. I wanted to be mad, to hate him for barging in and kissing me like that in the back room, but I couldn’t. The more I tried, the more I felt it; this pull, this draw to him I couldn’t shake. I could still feel his lips on mine, and his hand moving slowly. It burned in my memory. My stepfather, of all people, and I’d let it happen. I’d moaned, melted into him, and I didn’t know what that made me. A freak? A pervert?Maybe both.The diner buzzed around me, plates clinking, and voices humming, but they all seemed to f
MIGUELThe knock at the door got frantic as loud bangs rattled the frame. “Who the fuck is that?” I stepped back, my heart slamming hard, and Emily stumbled beside me. My focus was solely on the door, but I could clearly see her hands trembling. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging in, her breath shaky and fast. “They’re here,” she whispered, her eyes wide with terror. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the door burst open. The wood cracked under the weight that drove through it, the locks clanging to the floor.A man stepped in, tall and broad, his leather jacket creaking as he moved. His face was hard, jaw square, and a scar cut through his left eyebrow. Dark hair slicked back, eyes cold and grey, he carried a weight that filled the room.The first thing I looked at was his hips. There was no visible ammunition, thankfully.Two others flanked him. They were quieter and their hands hovered near their waists like they were ready to pull something out. Fuck!The man
SALVATORE“Hey John, I’ll call you back. Just got to the house.” I slid the phone into my pocket and took a long sigh. The air felt heavy, pressing on my chest as I pushed the door open.That was enough discussion about deals and shipments. John could handle the rest.I stepped into the sitting room. It was empty. The couch was bare, the TV staring blankly back at me. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, breathing slowly to calm the buzz in my nerves. No sounds, no clatter, just silence. I didn’t know if Miguel was home, and I hoped he was. I hoped he’d seen the flowers and felt something… anything.My mind spun restlessly. I didn’t know enough about him to understand his reaction to my apology. Would he laugh and toss the flowers and note aside, or would let them sit there, softening him up? I wanted him to feel that pull that I couldn’t shake, but I didn’t know where he stood. I’d kissed him and it felt like heaven. Fuck! It felt so damn good. I wanted to kiss him again, ta
MIGUELAn angel? No, this wasn’t an angel. Though he seemed like one when he swooped in with fury and grace, angels don't kill people and batter bodies, like the buzz-cut guy by the gate, who was left bleeding in the dirt. I snaked my hand to his chest as he lowered me into the passenger seat, his intoxicating scent of leather, smoke, and something sharp, hitting me like a ton of bricks. My fingers lingered, tracing the hard lines beneath his shirt. I caught my breath as the warmth of him seeped through. He eased me down gently and stared at me for some seconds.“Where are we going?” I asked quietly, my voice rough, barely above a whisper.“Home.” Salvatore’s hand brushed my cheek tenderly, his thumb grazing the bruise. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”I nodded slowly. My throat was tight and his touch sent spasms through me. He buckled the seatbelt and reached to close the door, but I grabbed his arm quickly. “Wait, Salvatore. My knife is inside, on the floor.”He paused for a mo
MIGUELOh, fuck. The taste was unlike anything I’d ever had in my life. First, it was the unwelcome sensation of having my mouth filled and stretched to its breaking point, but as soon as I went ahead for the next five seconds, my body adjusted.He tasted warm, hot, insatiable. The mix of that masculine scent I’d come to obsess over drove me nuts.My knees sank deeper into the sand, the grains cool against my skin as I moved, my lips brushing the tip, then sinking, taking as much of his cock as I could. Salvatore’s hand stayed in my hair, his fingers curling through the strands, guiding me gently. “Slowly, Miguel. Ah, yes, right there.” I moaned softly around him, the sound coming out muffled as saliva tricked from the sides of my mouth onto his thighs. His taste hit me again—sharp, warm, with a little mix of salt and him—and I couldn’t pull back. Fuck, I didn’t want to. My mind yelled at me. A jumbled mess of “What am I doing?” and “This man is my stepfather” echoed through my h
MIGUELI scrambled through my stuff, grabbing a shirt, jeans, and my jacket. My hands shook as I shoved them into a bag. Fuck this. Fuck me. I couldn’t stay here, not with Salvatore’s scent still on me, not after what happened at the beach.“I’m going insane.” I closed my eyes tightly and dug my fingers into my hair, pulling on them until I felt pain.What exactly what I thinking? How the fuck had I allowed Salvatore to touch me back at the diner, and now feed me his cock at the beach? How?But even as I reprimanded myself, I knew I was hard. I cursed softly under my breath, running into the bathroom, and slamming the door behind me. I fucking hated this.My fingers worked faster than I could process, yanking my pants down, and lubing my cock up with some saliva.Salvatore’s face flashed in my head and I forced my eyes open. My teeth grinded hard against each other. “You fucking slut,” I snarled at myself, pouring some more saliva onto my cock and jerking faster. Maybe this would he
SALVATOREI slumped behind my desk, my fingertips idly tracing the rim of a cold, half-empty coffee mug. The room felt tighter today, more suffocating. Every second Miguel remained missing added more weight to my chest, like a clamp pressing in from all sides.The door creaked open. I didn’t even bother to lift my head.It was John. He stood at the door for a moment before stepping in and closing it behind himself.I still didn’t raise my head. But he still wasn’t saying anything. “What the fuck is it, John?”He cleared his throat. “Boss…”“I can hear you.”“I knew you must have forgotten about the meeting for today. So I thought to remind you.”Oh, shit. I’d totally forgotten. Since that successful deal on the boat, I’d gotten countless calls from my partners. Everybody was excited about what this new phase would bring us. I was excited too, but I was too weak right now to sit at a round table and discuss financial and risk matters.“Will you be going?”"Of course, I won't." I exhal
JOHNKarl leaned in close to Salvatore, their heads nearly touching as they hovered over a clipboard. I watched from across the warehouse floor, pretending to busy myself with a half-open crate. Karl’s laugh was soft, almost charming, but too well-timed, like a man who practised in the mirror before work. I’d been watching him for weeks, and it was always the same. He was too eager, too clean, and too damn smooth.Why hadn’t I seen this earlier?He said something that made Salvatore shake his head and sigh, then clapped him on the shoulder. Then Karl walked away and slipped out the back door like smoke curling under a crack. I set the clipboard down and followed him.The air outside bit through my jacket. The alley behind the warehouse smelled like stale beer and motor oil, and the ground was littered with crushed cartons and broken pallets. Karl stood by the dumpster with his back to me, his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was a low thread as he spoke quickly into the receiver
MIGUELAnother day of healing, learning to smile warmly at customers, and enjoying the peace of my surroundings. When I clocked out, John was there again, waiting under that flickering lamp outside the store. His car was in the lot, the headlights cutting across the cracked pavement.He seemed to have mastered my schedule even better than me. He had a way of showing up right on time, already knowing that I had nothing to keep me back when I closed.He leaned against the hood with his arms folded, a soft grin tugging at his face when he saw me coming.“You are going to spoil me,” I said, jogging up with a tired smile. “Keep this up and I’ll start expecting dinner too.”He opened the passenger door, dipping his head in a mock bow. “Maybe I’m just making sure you don’t starve.”I climbed in and let the door thunk shut behind me. I could get used to this. The familiar scent of old leather and lingering coffee greeted me. No Salvatore scent. Good.John settled behind the wheel, and we pu
SALVATOREI slammed the front door so hard it nearly cracked in the frame. The echo thundered through the house like a gunshot. “Emily!” I roared. My shoes pounded the hardwood floor as I barreled into the living room. The scent of lavender candles choked the air. It clung to everything like a lie pretending to be peace. Miguel was gone. Not for hours. Not even a day. But for Days. Three fucking days now without a fucking word! And it was driving me out of my goddamn mind.Emily appeared at the top of the stairs, her silk robe clinging to her as she hurried down, her eyes wide and frightened. “Salvatore, what happened?” she gasped. “What’s wrong?”Her voice grated on me. She was too calm. How the fuck didn’t she even have an idea. She reached for me like her touch might soothe the chaos inside me, but I jerked away, smacking her hands off me.“You haven’t seen Miguel in days and you didn’t think to say anything?”Her face fell, confusion flickering across her features. “I thought h
MIGUEL“Your total is one hundred and twenty-three, and some cents,” I said, flashing a warm smile at the customer, an older woman with a cart brimming with canned goods and fresh produce. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she fumbled with a wad of crumpled bills, and I punched the numbers into the register. The air carried the comforting scent of warm bread from the bakery aisle, mingling with the sharp tang of citrus from a nearby display. I handed her the change, and she thanked me with a nod before wheeling her cart away.The next customer in line was a teenager with headphones dangling around his neck and a six-pack of soda in his arms. I rang him up, made a joke about the caffeine rush, and he gave a small laugh before heading out. Each interaction was a brief and pleasant flicker. Out here, in this sleepy corner of the world, everything was a little slower, a little softer.This place—this small, unassuming store tucked on the edge of town—had become something I hadn’t r
SALVATORE I paced the office with the phone pressed to my ear, my voice sharp as I barked into it. “John, get to my office. Now.” I hung up before he could reply, raking a hand through my hair as frustration crackled under my skin. The air felt thick, too quiet, too still, like it was waiting for the next blow.John stepped in a few minutes later, his eyes flicking over me. “What’s going on?”“I fucked up,” I said. “Miguel has refused to pick up my calls. I don’t even know if he will see me at this point.”John’s jaw ticked. “What do you need?”“I need you to go to Paul’s. Miguel’s probably with him.” I stepped closer. “Tell Miguel that I’m sorry. I’m coming to make it right. Get some flowers, I don’t know, maybe roses, lilies, or something that says, ‘I’m a jackass, but I love you.’ Got it?”John hesitated. “You think that’s gonna do anything? Flowers?”“I don’t care if it doesn’t. Just do it.” I pointed toward the door. “Now.”He gave a short nod and left, and I sank into my chair
MIGUELPaul helped me load my duffel bag into the trunk of his car without saying much. There wasn’t much to say anyway. The early afternoon sun warmed the pavement, and the quiet between us was comfortable. He glanced at me once before sliding into the driver’s seat, waiting until I was buckled before starting the engine.He started driving, but the hesitation was obvious in him.“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked again for what seemed like the nth time.I nodded and watched the buildings blur past. “Yeah. I need a reset.”Paul kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against his thigh. “John seems decent. I still don’t know him, though.”“He’s credible,” I said. “He’s not like Salvatore. He listens.”Paul snorted. “That alone puts him ahead.”We fell into silence again. The roads stretched out, the houses thinning as we left the city behind. By the time we reached the outskirts of town, we were surrounded by open fields and the occasional worn-down shop or
MIGUELSunlight cut through Paul’s curtains, landing across my face and dragging me out of sleep. My body ached, heavy with the weight of everything that happened the previous day. It was too early to start brooding over what put me in this position in Paul’s house, so I pushed all thoughts to the back of my mind. The smell of bacon hit me next. I sat up slowly and allowed the familiar quiet of Paul’s apartment to settle around me. The floor was cold beneath my feet as I pushed off the sheets and made my way toward the kitchen.Paul stood at the stove, barefoot, flipping bacon with a spatula. He didn’t look surprised to see me.“Morning,” I said, my voice scratchy and hoarse.He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Look who’s alive. Coffee is on the table. Plates will be set in two minutes.”I gave a quiet nod and sat down at the table, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. The silence wasn’t awkward. It never was with Paul. Something was calming about the way he moved, in the wa
KARLThe job wasn’t nearly as brutal as they made it out to be. Moving crates, stacking boxes, and pretending to care. It was all mechanical. The hard part wasn’t the labour, it was the act. Every day, I pulled on the same mask: Karl, the dependable guy. A boy with a quiet smile, a solid work ethic, no opinions, no complications. A man who blended in just enough to be forgotten.But that wasn’t me, not really.I slipped into the back corner of the warehouse, where the shadows bled into the cracks of the cinderblock walls and the air smelled like old oil and rusted steel. The buzz of forklifts and clanging metal softened to a low murmur. This was where the real work happened. The person who made the architectural structure of the warehouse did a really good job. Apart from the fact that it had lots of hidden areas, it allowed the public just enough to see the lies put out, but not enough to see too much. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the burner phone. The cheap phone was p