2:23 in the morning, but Harry hit dial anyway.
"Harry?"
He closed his eyes at the immediate worry in Fred's voice,
"How are you?"
"Damn, forget me."
Murmured voices echoed in the background and Harry heard George ask,
"How are you?"
He chuckled darkly,
"Still alive."
Fred scoffed,
"We've been worried sick about you."
Harry leaned back in his seat and ran his hand over his face,
"I'm fine."
That was a lie, and he had a feeling that Fred had caught on to that,
"Dare we ask what happened with Mr. Voldemort?"
Harry looked out the tinted window and spoke,
"It was messed up and complicated."
The twins snickered,
"That's not new."
Harry groaned,
"I don't even know why I called you two."
He was about to end the call when Fred spoke,
"You know his head is all messed up because of you."
Harry replied curtly,
"He does the same to me."
Fred and George spoke together,
"But you like it, don't you?"
When Harry didn't answer, the twins chuckled,
"Yeah, we know, how hot the sex is between you too, but you can't build something on a hate-fuck alone."
They paused,
"Do you want to build something?"
"I don't know."
Harry put his head back on the car seat. Headed to the airport. Running, too. From what just happened in that hotel room behind him. He didn't think about it. Couldn't think about it yet,
"I touch him and nothing else matters, but that never lasts."
"And you remember you're having sex with the man who killed Fenrir."
"It's crazy."
"Yeah, it is. But he's a crazy guy, and from what we know about you, you're off your rocker. So…"
"Thanks, guys…"
"Later."
He ended the call and blew out a breath. Lots he had to figure out, and he couldn't do it in Tom's bed. He fingered the rope in his lap. He should have tossed it in the trash, but he held on to it for some reason. His shoulders throbbed from all the twisting and slamming he'd done to break the headboard. He'd feel it for a few days, but it was a small price to pay.
He had to get away. Not away from Tom, because that was an impossibility. The magnitude of it all crashed down on him, and he needed to think. Clear his head and come to grips with what was happening.
I'll take the blame for the both of us.
But it wasn't on Tom to make his betrayal to Fenrir an easier weight to carry. It wasn't on Tom's shoulders to make him feel better that he hadn't been a full participant in what just happened. From their first kiss, he'd never not been fully engaged and completely aware of his actions. His mind, his body had been fully on board.
He didn't need an excuse. The truth worked just fine.
He wanted it.
Wanted more, and next time he'd take more.
Because there would be a next time.
What's the emergency?" Tom strode into his office without knocking,
"I need to…"
He stopped short at the sight that greeted him.
Bella sat at his desk, flanked on either side by two men with guns pointed at her temple. Before Tom could do more than blink, a weapon was pressed to his side.
He glanced to his left and cursed silently.
Felipe Guzman stood with his hands in his pockets. Felipe, the leader of The Brazilian Gang. One of James Evan's rivals.
"Mr. Voldemort, welcome."
That name didn't send Tom's pulse into overdrive like it did when James used it,
"We have business to discuss."
"Do we?"
Tom held his gaze,
"Get your men away from her."
Felipe smiled, looking like the boy next door with that round face and those fat cheeks. He was a few inches shorter than Tom, made all the clearer when he strode over and stood directly in front of him,
"I think not."
Tom sighed. He wasn't up to doing this right now. He didn't get any sleep the night before, and he spent the entire plane ride figuring out a way to reclaim his sanity. He wasn't up for ten rounds with this crazy bastard right now. Still, he shrugged as one of Felipe's men patted him down, taking away his weapon and phone, and tossing them aside.
"What business do we have? What do you want?"
A wide smile creased Felipe's face, but never made it to his cold eyes,
"Nothing too difficult. I simply want you to finish what you started."
"Meaning what?"
"James Evans has taken over Greyback's legacy quite effortlessly."
Hate practically dripped from every word Felipe spoke,
"He's a threat to your business as much as he's a threat to mine."
Felipe's eyes glinted,
"I want you to kill him."
"I don't work for you,"
Tom told him coolly,
"I'll deal with Evans in my own way. In my own time."
Felipe chuckled,
"You mistake me, Mr. Voldemort."
He shuffled closer, hands still his pockets,
"I'm willing to pay you a lot of money to do this and I'll let your lovely assistant go unscathed."
He nodded in Bella's direction.
Tom barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He removed a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket without taking his eyes off Felipe. He'd been threatened by men way deadlier than Felipe Guzmán and lived to tell the tale. The wannabe kingpin didn't rattle him, not even the tiniest bit… especially not after having spent that bit of time in James's dungeon,
"The fastest way to lose me is to threaten me."
He took a drag of the lit cigarette then blew out the smoke into Felipe's face,
"I don't respond well to those."
"I'd rethink that if I were you."
Felipe watched him silently for a while,
"Let me know when it's done."
He left the office, his men trailing after him.
"What the hell was that?"
Tom glared at Bella,
"You couldn't give me some kind of warning?"
Bella shrugged,
"They ambushed me and took away my phone."
She walked over to Tom,
"What are you going to do? And I thought you'd quit…"
She nodded at the cigarette.
Tom snorted. He did quit, but he was thinking that had been a huge mistake. He'd been making a lot of those lately,
"I'm sure I'll think of something."
Alarm widened Bella's eyes,
"The correct answer would have been, he'll be dead by sundown."
Her jaw dropped and she stepped back,
"You feel for him."
They didn't have to speak James's name for him to be in the room with them. Still, Tom shook his head,
"No."
He couldn't. That would be impossible because he was heartless and soulless, and he didn't feel things for anybody except lust.
Bella sighed. She was his oldest friend, and she always knew when Tom was up to something. When he was lying, pretending, stalling. Like now,
"What did you do in Seattle?"
"I have to go."
Tom turned toward the door, but Bella grabbed his arm.
"Tom."
Her tone scolded, much like when Tom had been a teenager all those eons ago,
"What did you do?"
"I messed up,"
He snarled,
"Last night was…"
He pulled away from Bella's hold, twisting around to meet her worried gaze,
"Bella,"
His voice dropped to something barely above a whisper,
"I'm in trouble."
The last time he'd acknowledged that fact, he'd been seventeen. At that time, Bella had remained close to make sure Tom didn't ever go too far off the tracks. But this…
This was something different.
Bella pulled him into a hug, patting his back,
"Yes, you are."
Nothing else to say. Bella couldn't help him this time around and he just couldn't hop on a plane to another continent to hide.
That cowardice wouldn't work with James.
Strange how he alternated between feeling freer than he'd ever been yet trapped by the connection between him and James. Both sensations made him panic.
He went back to his place, dismissing Nott who could never quite take the hint that Tom wanted to be alone. He needed to think, needed to figure out a way to deal with Felipe Guzmán, and with himself. Because he was starting to feel things.
Like regret.
Like sorrow.
Like that thing he refused to name, the thing that came over him when James Evans looked at him. Touched him. Kissed him.
There weren't many things he'd done in his life that he wished to do over. He had learned that a man needed to be able to do introspection on himself. A man needed to be willing to face his actions and stand by them, good or bad. He needed to take responsibility and be held accountable.
He wished he hadn't kidnapped Fenrir. Fenrir Greyback might still be alive. James Evans might not be as messed up as he was. If he asked for it, would James forgive him? As conflicted as Tom was, James obviously fought an even bigger war inside himself.
Last night, Tom gave him an excuse. He took away James's choice, made it so all the blame would be on Tom. At least, he'd assumed as much. Except James could've gotten away at any time. He chose to stay.
He chose to let Tom take him.
He offered up himself.
That knowledge messed with his head more.
What did it mean?
Why did James leave? Tom didn't want to resent that.
Didn't want to feel rejected by that.
Because how do you forgive someone for taking away someone that you care about that? How do you forgive yourself for not protecting the one person you'd vowed to protect? How did you reconcile attraction to the person who stole your life?
He didn't have the answers.
Now, on top of all this mess, he had to deal with Felipe Guzmán.