Page 90 of Fool Me Twice

Cane grinned weakly. “It’s not my first rodeo, sweetheart.”

“That is not something to brag about!”

Cane shrugged and pushed off the wall. “Help me bandage this guy so he doesn’t bleed out. He has a message he needs to deliver.”

“What?! You want to save the hit man?” Hart asked, and Cane paused finally.

Was Hart suggesting…? He couldn’t be suggesting that they just, what, let the guy bleed out all over the floor? It was so out of left field Cane could barely comprehend that it had come out of Hart’s mouth.

“I thought you’d be the one wanting to make sure they were okay.”

“They just tried to kill you,” Hart said stubbornly, and there was still something about the response, something so un-Hart-like in the bright gleam of his eyes. Everything since he’d walked in just seemed…off.

It was probably the shock of the moment. Adrenaline and shock could make people do and say the craziest things. Cane couldn’t imagine Hart had walked in on many scenes like this, even as a cursebreaker. The deranged little blond one was the one who dealt with the dead bodies, right?

“We just need to make sure they don’t bleed out. When their friends wake up, they can deal with them,” Cane said, eager to get it done so he could get Hart out of there and back to relative normalcy.

He shuffled to his first aid kit, thankful it hadn’t been destroyed. He pulled out some bandages and had them snatched away by Hart.

“I’m doing this, and then we’re leaving,” Hart said, leaning over the wounded man.

“We’re leaving? I just said—”

“Grab whatever you need.” Hart cut him off, wrapping the man up like he was a puppet, seemingly not caring if he hurt him further or even if he was doing it right. “You’ll stay with me.”

Cane’s words got trapped in his mouth. “The fuck?”

“You’re staying with me,” Hart said, daring him to argue, eyes blazing as he stared up at Cane.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Cane argued anyway, watching Hart throw the rest of the bandages back into the box, slamming it shut with the end still trailing out.

“And staying here is better?” Hart fired back. That wild glint in his eye blossomed as he threw the box away, standing up and marching toward Cane’s bedroom.

“Your brothers hate me.” Cane followed the tornado that was Hart, watching him open his closet and pile stacks of shirts and jeans into his arms.

“Not all of them.” He thrust the clothes into Cane’s chest, smearing blood and grit all over them. “Move it.”

“This is my apartment. I’m not running scared,” Cane said, trying to hold the clothes away from his body as much as he could. “And I own a fucking duffle bag.”

Hart froze in his steps, turning to glare at him with a look that chilled Cane to the bone. There was fire there, an intensity he didn’t think he’d seen before. What had looked like worry and panic before now looked downright unhinged.

“Then grab it, because this isn’t up for negotiation,” Hart said, voice hard and unyielding. “Pack what you need and flush whatever is incriminating. We’re leaving.”

He didn’t allow further argument as he slammed out of the door, leaving Cane to rush after him as best as he could.

Chapter 19

Hart

“We’re not alone, sweetheart,” Cane grunted as he sat in the cushy armchair in Hart’s bedroom, naked and sprawled low to allow Hart to sit on his lap.

Hart was riding him, head thrown back, hands around Cane’s neck as he bounced up and down on his cock. He had been restless when they’d arrived at the house with Cane’s things, grateful that his brothers and a surprised Morgan were too stunned to ask any questions as they cleared the doorway.

He’d ignored Fix’s questioning stare and the spluttering from Ash as he threw expletives after them while Morgan tried to calm him. Hart didn’t have time for any of it. Or the presence of mind. He just had one singular thought in his head.

He’d practically shoved Cane through the house and up the stairs, corralling him into his room and then pouncing, needing to feel him. Needing to have him. He’d thrown Cane’s things into a corner, ripping the clothes off his body and throwing them carelessly about his immaculate room. He did the same with his own until they were both naked and pressed together head to toe.

He’d pushed Cane into the chair and climbed on top, ignoring the warnings that he wasn’t stretched, that he’d hurt himself, that they had time and could slow down.