Noah looked around for a way to escape or maybe a servant he could ask for help, but he saw nothing and no one that could save him. Green Suit was right behind him with a damn gun and would probably shoot him if he tried to run again.
Or he might try to smell Noah again.
Yeah, Teardrop was right. That shit was weird.
They all walked into the ballroom, and Noah saw two more men. The first was standing by the door, a young peroxide-blond scarecrow all in black. He was absolutely stunning, but there was something off in his pale gaze that made Noah’s stomach turn.
Sitting at his father’s piano was an older man with thick salt-and-pepper hair curling around his ears and a nicely trimmed beard. He was wearing a grey suit with no tie and his shirt was unbuttoned about a third of the way down. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue, like Windex or something, and he was staring at Noah with an unbridled intensity.
For an old guy, he was kinda hot.
He had several rings, a flashy watch, and Noah could see a few necklaces glittering in the thick hair of his broad chest. The cut of the suit hinted at a thick physique, and his hands were big, strong…
Yeah, fuck, he was really hot.
“Did you search him?” Scarecrow asked, his voice surprisingly deep for such a young-looking guy.
“Uh, nope.” Bushy shoved Noah against the nearest wall and smacked his hands all over his body. “Got it.”
“Fuck! Come on, man!” Noah protested as he was roughly groped between his legs. “Fuckin’ buy me dinner or somethin’!”
“Gently,” Old Guy scolded. “Noah is our guest.”
Bushy backed off. “He’s good.”
Noah pushed away from the wall and snarled. His head was throbbing now, and he was totally surrounded by these thugs.
Green Suit had lowered his gun, but Noah could still see it in his hand. Scarecrow was wearing a shoulder holster with two guns, one with a white handle. He couldn’t see any weapons on the others, but he was pretty sure they were all armed.
“I don’t know who the fuck you guys think you are, but you’re all fuckin’ fucked!” Noah seethed. “You just fuckin’ wait! Somebody is gonna call the police, and then you are fucked! You’re all so fucked! You hear me?”
They laughed.
They alllaughedat him.
Noah didn’t know what else to do, and his fear was overwhelmed with rage. He screamed as loudly as he could, shouting, “Help! Hey! Anybody! Fuckin’ help me! There are crazy people in my fuckin’ house with guns!”
“Crybaby?” Old Guy waved his hand. “Perhaps Noah needs some persuasion to be a more palatable guest, hmm?”
“You got it.” Crybaby immediately kicked the back of Noah’s leg, forcing him to drop down on his knees.
“Fuckin’ bitch!” Noah tried to get up again, but Bushy had a gun right up against his head. He froze and held his hands up in surrender.
Shit.
One little twitch of Bushy’s trigger finger, and Noah would die. Someone was gonna find his body covered in this stinky body glitter and think he got whacked by Tinkerbell.
“Junior, I don’t think that’s necessary just yet.” Old Guy shook his head. “Put it away.”
Bushy complied and took a step back. “Sorry, Alistair. I gots excited.”
“No need to apologize.” Old Guy’s bright blue eyes turned on Noah, and he smiled. “My name is Alistair Star. These are my business associates. This is Miss Stephanie ‘Crybaby’ Cox, Mr. Arthur ‘Mace’ Mason over there in the green, Mr. Erasmus Argento, we like to call him ‘Razz’, but he hates it, and the excited fellow is Mr. Maurice Martine Junior.”
“Lemme guess.” Noah snorted. “You call him Junior.”
“Such a quick study.” Alistair smiled again. “I appreciate a clever mind in a beautiful young man like yourself under normal circumstances, but right now I’m in the mood for… mmm,silence.”
Noah flinched.
