Grind (Wrong Side of the Tracks #4) Read Online K.A. Merikan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wrong Side of the Tracks Series by K.A. Merikan
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
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“Don’t come any closer!”

Frank turned into ice when he looked down and spotted Ezra on the floor, gripping Paul’s gun and aiming it in their general direction.

Paul was still squinting and rubbing his eyes as he scowled, blindly patting the nearby table until he found a jug of water. “Your hands are trembling. What do you think you’re going to do with that, Sugar?” he asked and then poured the clear liquid straight into his face to wash away the acidic juice.

Frank growled, filled with so much hate for Paul he wanted to rip him apart and hear his blood squelch, but didn’t want to be caught by a stray bullet if he scared Ezra by making a sudden movement. “Don’t underestimate him. I taught him how to shoot.” A bluff, but it would make Paul think twice before his next move.

Water splashed onto the floor and dampened the front of Paul’s shirt by the time he shook his head like an animal. He pinned Frank with his reddened eyes. “What is up with you? There’s hundreds of boys like him.”

“There isn’t. He’s special to me,” Frank said plainly. There was no point in hiding these cards now.

Paul glanced at Ezra who gripped the gun so hard his knuckles were white. “He’s seen too much, Frank. You know it.”

He did. If Ezra chose to talk to the police, slipped a note to the nurse or something along those lines, Frank’s junkyard operation could be compromised. And while he could take the blame for whatever was found there, all the men who depended on him, his chosen family, might not get end up unscathed either. But he could not give up Ezra’s life for anything, even all the other people Frank cared about.

“He won’t talk. My business is on the line too, and I vouch for him.”

Paul wiped his eyes again, his chest working at a slow pace as he took that in. “You’ve gone soft. I should have kept you on a diet of pretty boys all along. Then none of this would have happened.”

“I make my own choices,” Frank said sternly, knowing Paul meant all the other choices he’d made in the past too, including the ones that led to them parting ways.

Paul raised his hands. “I know, I know. Let’s call a truce. I didn’t think you were so serious about my sloppy seconds.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Paul. I’m real close to ripping you apart even if it means the cops get involved.”

Frank hated the smirk emerging on Paul’s face. It was sly, and always preceded some bullshit falling out of that lying mouth.

“So you do still have your instincts. And our little scuffle showed me you’re definitely in your prime. There is a job I’d appreciate your help with—”

“No.”

Paul had the audacity to roll his eyes. “It was worth a try. Fine. Take him if you want. But if he talks, I know where you and all your friends live,” he said as the pleasant tone of his voice gained a razor-sharp edge.

And Frank knew where Paul’s bloodied knife from a murder years ago was hidden. They’d existed in this limbo for a very long time, and could continue for as long as the bastard stayed civil.

Frank nodded. “You do. So get the fuck out.”

Paul shook his head and grabbed his jacket off the floor. “Don’t forget to ask the janitor for a mop and—”

“Get out!” Frank pointed to the door, and this time, Paul didn’t argue, disappearing without a word.

The room was a mess and looked exactly as if two men had been having a fight here moments ago, but all Frank could see was Ezra sitting on the floor behind the bed with his knees pulled up high to keep the small gun steady.

Frank scooted in front of him, as if he were calming a kitten left out in the rain all night. “It’s okay. You can put the gun down,” he said and extended his hand. Soothing Ezra came before dealing with any aches and pains, but when wide eyes flashed at him from above the dressing, he knew it would not be a straightforward process.

“He just came in here,” Ezra uttered in a shaky voice, still clutching the gun in his pale fingers.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have had someone here at all times. I thought we were out of the woods. But you’re safe now. He understands the situation.” Frank ended up kneeling on the floor, and stroked Ezra’s shin. Seeing him stiffen at the touch felt like a stab, but Frank didn’t have the right to tell Ezra how he was supposed to feel and sat next to him instead, hoping his presence would be enough to offer Ezra a sense of safety.

Ezra’s pale lips moved. “If he took me… would he do the same thing to me that he did to the man I saw?”


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