Page 134 of Certified To Handle You 2

I started cuttin’ through the zip ties around Couture’s wrists. They was pulled so tight that the skin under ‘em looked red and swollen, and I had to move slow so I ain’t cut him too.

“It’s okay,” I told him while workin’ the scissors underneath the plastic. “I got you. Just give me a second.”

Couture kept his eyes on me, and that only made the guilt in my stomach worse. I knew who did this. I knew why he did it and I was standin’ here actin’ confused ‘cause sayin’ Renza’s name out loud would open a whole other problem none of us was ready for.

The first tie snapped, then the second one loosened enough for Couture to pull his hands free. He moved ‘em in front of him and winced while the blood started flowin’ back into his fingers.

I reached toward the tape across his mouth. “This might hurt.”

Couture nodded once.

I peeled the tape away as careful as I could, but it still pulled at his skin and beard. His face twisted, and my mama muttered another prayer beside me.

Once the tape was off, Couture sucked in a deep breath and turned his head away for a second like he needed time to understand that he was really free.

“Can you move?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” Couture answered, but his voice sounded rough and dry.

I reached for his arm while my mama helped from the other side. Couture pushed himself upright, then climbed out the trunk with his legs movin’ stiff from bein’ folded up so long.

The second both his feet touched the driveway, I wrapped my arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered while holdin’ him tight. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry this happened to you.”

Couture stood there stiff for a second before one arm came around me. He ain’t hold me the way he normally did. His body was too tense, and I could feel anger runnin’ through him underneath the exhaustion.

My mama kept askin’ questions beside us.

“Who did this?” she demanded. “Did they rob you? Did you see they faces? We need to call the police.”

Couture pulled away from me and looked toward her. He rubbed his wrists while lookin’ toward his car, then around the driveway and up at the house. His face changed as he started puttin’ shit together.

“Where my phone?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

He checked his pockets even though it was obvious they was empty. Then his eyes came back to me.

“There was two of ‘em,” Couture said. “Both had masks on. They came to my apartment, put guns on me and threw me in my own shit.”

My stomach turned again while I listened.

“Did they say anything?” I asked carefully.

Couture frowned like he was tryna remember every detail. “Not much. They asked for my keys, and one of ‘em kept lookin’ at me like the shit was personal.”

I ain’t say nothin’. He watched my face for a second, and I could see the confusion turn into suspicion.

Couture looked toward my mama’s house again, then down at the driveway before bringin’ his eyes back to me.

“How do whoever did this knew to drop me off over here?” he asked.

The question landed between us, and for the first time since I opened the trunk, I ain’t have no lie ready.

I stared at him while my mouth went dry, and Couture kept his eyes locked on mine like he already knew the answer was somewhere in my silence.

Five days passed since that situation with Couture, and I was sittin’ outside his apartment in my car talkin’ to Toni.