“It should only be you. It’s your… stuff that killed him!”
Oh, so they weren’t treats anymore?
Shane slapped him across the face, and the fucker stepped back, staring at him with tears gathering in his eyes as if he were a little kid scolded by his mother.
“Man up. You were the one buying, and I have proof. So shut the fuck up, and if you’re not gonna help, at least don’t make my life harder!”
“What kind of help can I even offer? He’s fucking dead—” Brad’s voice broke when it reached a high pitch, but it was Ros’s sob that grabbed all of Shane’s attention.
Ros hid his face in his hands, and the long hair obscured him further, but his shoulders trembled.
Shit.
“Hey, it’s gonna be all right,” Shane muttered, touching his chest when it sank under an unexpected sense of pressure. He scooted in front of Ros and squeezed his hot arm.
One could always count on a fucking junkie to spoil a perfectly good mood! Seemed like Shane wouldn’t be getting his sex tape today.
“It won’t.” Ros sobbed again, but looked up, so vulnerable and raw with tears dampening the streaks of clay on his cheeks that it took Shane’s breath away. Not only because Rosen was a picture of beauty, but because he had no shame in the way he expressed his fear.
For years, Shane had lived around men who considered weakness a fatal flaw, something to be used against others. Ros was nothing like them. While not entirely innocent, he depended on Shane for his safety, just like when they’d encountered the bear.
“Look, if I say it will be all right, then it will. Do you understand me, boy?” Shane asked, cupping his flushed face with both hands.
Brad made a noise in the background, but Shane ignored him, hypnotized by the foggy blue gaze watching him with so much hope he wanted to dive in and let it hug him.
What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t a time to go soft, yet he couldn’t help himself.
Ros dropped to his knees and hugged Shane as if he feared the floor might crumble and suck him into the abyss. “How though? Pete’s dead, and yeah, it’s his fault, but I helped bring this stuff in.”
Shane wasn’t used to taking care of people, yet Ros handed himself over into his care. It felt like when he’d gotten his first puppy to train. Back then, he’d expected to be unfeeling, yet those big eyes had met his, and he couldn’t help the flood of emotion.
He should’ve felt burdened by two frat boys who didn’t know how to police their friend’s drug intake, yet the fact that Ros trusted him so much only made Shane feel more powerful. Like he mattered. Like he could be useful and help Ros in a way that would never be forgotten.
He pulled him closer, and it seemed Ros had been waiting for that gesture because he melted against Shane with a soft sigh.
Brad rubbed his head, breathing in shallow gasps. “Seriously? Why don’t you just fuck on Pete’s bo—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Shane snapped. He would have shot to his feet, but Ros had settled so comfortably against him that he didn’t have the heart to let him go yet.
One way or another, this situation needed to be dealt with. Both Brad and Ros had his number, and he had no doubt whatsoever that the former would push him under the bus instead of pretending he had no idea where Pete had gotten the drugs from.
Sorting this out created least opportunities for a fuckup, so this was what needed to be done.
Ros sobbed but turned his face to Brad with a scowl. “You told me you were keeping an eye on his habit!”
Brad raised his hands as if he expected the universe to throw him a magic ball. “He wasn’t even supposed to be here! He told me he was going away for the weekend!”
“Does this change anything?” Shane growled and made a broad gesture toward the corpse. “If he’s found here, it will backfire on you one way or another. Which means that—” He stilled, watching Brad with expectation, but the idiot just stared back at him like a dead fish.
Shane had no time for this. “Which means he can’t be found here.”
Ros rubbed his eyes, but his breath only sped up again. “Are you saying we should move him? We’ll be even more fucked for tampering with a crime scene.”
Brad paced in front of the door. “I’m not going to prison over Pete being a stupidass junkie!”
Watching both the men thrash in panic was a bitter reminder of how far-removed Shane really was from their world. Ros might be a dirty boy in bed, he might earn cash on the side by dealing on a small scale, but at the end of the day he was a rabbit while Shane would always remain a wolf, and any association they might develop would always end in blood.