So Rare (Boys of South Chapel #3)

11. Greedy

Chapter 11

Greedy

NOW

I stumble back from the force of the blow but quickly find my footing and steady the swinging bag.

“Dude. Take it easy. You’re going to get hurt.”

That, or he’ll hurt me with his sloppy footing and overly aggressive right hook. Levi’s acting like this dirty vestige of a hanging bag is personally responsible for Hunter’s disappearance and our current predicament.

“Take it easy?” he grits out, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe away the sweat dripping down his face. His whole chest inflates, then deflates in rapid, harsh breaths. He’s clearly exhausted, and yet, he won’t stop. “How the hell do you expect me to take it easy? We’re still here. We’ve been awake for hours, and we’re still fucking here .”

He’s only mildly exaggerating.

We’ve all been up for a while, but it’s still early.

Spence has a plan, but he’s waiting on paperwork to come through before enacting it, and it’ll likely be mid-morning before that happens. According to him, we can head in Hunter’s direction the moment he gets word that everything is in place.

What “everything” entails is a mystery. But I trust him. And I trust that given the circumstances, Hunter would want us to play it safe and make smart choices.

Spence is back in the room, grumbling about the lack of coffee and tea options in the Mystical Master Suite . He wasn’t nearly as amused by the room’s official name as I was.

Levi hadn’t been awake more than thirty minutes before he was practically climbing the walls, so I suggested we blow off some steam in the gym. I thought it would beat sitting around feeling useless. I thought wrong.

“Hold it,” Levi bares his teeth, bouncing back on his toes. It’s the only warning he gives before he rails against the vinyl cylinder between us and sends me stumbling once more. “I said hold it,” he barks.

“I’m fucking trying,” I bite back as I sway with the momentum of the bag.

Anger and despair radiate from him, and despite going five rounds on the on the tattered punching bag, he’s acting like he’s just getting started.

He stays light on his toes, dancing back and forth as he waits for me to reset. He’s got to be fucking exhausted.

I take my time steadying the worn-out equipment, subtly inspecting him as I do. When I catch a wince and a hiss under his breath, I know it’s time to shut it down.

“Let’s call it.”

He lets out a frustrated grunt. “No, I said hold it.”

“You’re spent, Leev. I’m calling it. You’re done.” Stepping out from around the bag, I cross my arms over my chest and stand to my full height.

“So you’re back to being the boss now?” He lifts the bottom edge of his cut-off tee again, the muscles in his biceps and shoulders bunching, and wipes at the sweat dripping off his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I step around him to grab my water. On the pass, I put a hand on him to keep from startling him. The second my fingertips caress the warm, slick skin of his oblique, he stills.

With a shuddering breath, he jolts away from my touch and steps back to put distance between us once more.

“It means you’re letting Spence run the damn show. I can’t believe we’re still here. We know where she fucking is, and we’re still here.”

It’s the same battle he’s been waging for the last twenty-four hours.

He holds my gaze through the tarnished full-length mirrors that line one wall of the gym as I squirt water into my mouth.

It takes him a few seconds, but eventually, he realizes I’m not going to answer. When that happens, he does what stubborn Levi does best: he doubles down.

“Seriously,” he rages, lacing his fingers and bringing his hands to the top of his head. “He shows up, starts telling Hunter what to do, and suddenly you’re okay with letting him be in control? You’ve been fighting with the guy since he got here.”

Sighing, I scratch at the base of my skull. He’s right, yet he’s not. Things have changed between Spence and me. There’s a new understanding between us now that we’re both invested in a mutual interest. More importantly, though, I won’t fight with Kabir. Now that I understand how he operates I don’t mind his directness or domineering personality.

In all honestly, it’s nice not to have the weight of the world solely on my shoulders for once. As quarterback, I’m used to being the one others defer to. I’ve always had a predisposition for leadership. Between book smarts and level-headedness, I’m pretty decent at strategizing and figuring out the best move.

In this situation, though, I’m so fucking out of my depth.

Levi’s right, but he’s also wrong. I’m not just okay with Spence taking the lead; I’m grateful for it. His connections and experience navigating a situation like this with Hunter makes him the better man for the job.

He put a fucking tracker in her, for crying out loud. A tracker that I’m really glad she has now. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know he’ll stop at nothing until we have her back.

Levi clearly does not share my gratitude.

The real issue here is that I don’t know how to explain any of this to my best friend without insulting or discounting his own desires and priorities. Even if I could find the words, he’s not in a position to hear what I’m trying to say. Especially with the way he’s scowling at me now.

So instead of defending myself, I hold out the water bottle in a peace offering.

His eyebrows shoot up at my clear dismissal of his questions.

I keep my arm outstretched, holding his gaze in the mirror, willing him to trust that she’ll be okay.

Eventually, he stalks toward me. Just as I turn and face him, he shoulder-checks me and passes on by.

“Come on, Levi.”

He lumbers away from me, limping subtly, and disappears into the locker room.

With a sigh, I grab our things and follow, and when I push through the door, I find him at the sink with his shirt off and balled in his fist. He’s got his arms braced against the countertop, bracketing the sink, with his head hung low.

Sweat rolls down his torso, the reflection of the ripples and divots of his muscular chest creating a grid of glistening moisture.

He’s still panting with exertion when I come to stand a few feet behind him. I want to give him space, but I can’t stand to see him hurting like this.

“Leev,” I try again, my voice cracking with desperation.

His head snaps up, the fury in his gaze pinning me in place. “ Stop following me .”

“I can’t do that.” I take a single step closer. “Even if we don’t agree on the play, we’re still on the same team.”

Understanding flickers over his expression. Before he can respond, though, both phones in my hand—his and mine—vibrate, distracting me.

“Hold up,” I murmur, unlocking my screen to read the message.

My heart beats double-time—then it sinks into the pit of my stomach.

Spence: The plan is in motion, but there’s one more component that needs to fall into place. My lawyer needs two hours. I requested late check out. We’ll leave here at 1 p.m.

“What is it?” Levi asks.

Bracing myself, eyes closed, I hold out his phone and let him read the message for himself.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

By the time I open my eyes, Levi’s thrown his phone on the counter and he’s pulling back as if he’s about to smash his hand into the mirror over the sink.

Heart lurching, I burst into motion, hustling forward to tug on his arm.

His fist makes contact with the glass before I can stop him, but he’s still holding tight to his T-shirt. Thankfully, the mirror doesn’t crack.

“Dude. Chill.” I step up to his side, then briskly pull his hand closer to inspect it for damage. “You went five rounds on the punching bag, Leev. You think by now you’d be out of steam.”

Standing this close, I can feel the heat of his body. Carefully, I unfurl his fist, finger by finger. As each one uncurls, he grows more tense. Finally, when his fist is open and the shirt he’s been holding drops to the floor, I instruct him to flex his hand.

As he obeys, I watch his face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“Now make a fist,” I instruct.

Once again, he complies.

“Any pain?”

Steely blue gaze locked with mine, he shakes his head. The urge to break contact is strong. He’s so intense right now, his every emotion palpable, so I give in and blink first.

Focusing on his hand, I test the joints and search for any tender spots.

“I love Hunter,” I tell him, my attention still averted. “You know that. Nothing has changed. I’m not stopping until we get her back. We have to be smart about this, though. Spence and I can’t be worried about you blowing a gasket and hurting yourself—or worse, reinjuring your leg—because you don’t know what to do with your feelings.”

“Fuck you.” The insult carries far less heat than the words he spoke to me moments ago.

After completing my assessment, I keep a hold of his hand and, gulping past the hesitation brewing in my gut, stand a little taller. Slowly, I lace my fingers with his and seek out his reaction in the mirror. He’s not looking at me—he’s staring at our joined hands in the reflective glass.

“Hunter’s not the only person I care about,” I confess, voice husky as I push down my self-doubt. “We’ll get her back. But I need to know you’re going to be okay, too. What can I do to help you?”

His blue eyes float up to meet mine in the mirror, and his whole body freezes.

We’re both holding our breath.

“Levi.” I speak his name slowly and deliberately low.

It’s an invitation. It’s a risk I’m not sure he’s willing to take with me. But now that the idea has presented itself in my mind, it’s all I can think about.

“Let me help you.” I trail my fingers over his wrist and up his forearm.

As I touch the taut, fatigued muscles, his bicep jumps. When I reach his shoulder, I rest my hand there and squeeze. Then I keep going.

Cuffing his neck, I force myself in between his body and the countertop. My fingers sink into the damp wavy blond hair at his nape. I use my grip on the strands to tilt his head to one side, then bring my lips close to his ear.

“Let me fucking help you, Leev. Help you work through what you’re feeling. Help you pass the time. Let me help you now. Then, in a few hours, we’ll go get our girl.”

I scrape my teeth along the tendon bulging in his neck, pulling a sharp breath from him, and nip at his earlobe.

“Lock the door, Levi. Meet me in the shower.”