When Tristan had joined Man Up as an exotic dancer, it was for an undercover operation based on intel—faulty, in retrospect—that the venue was used in a human-trafficking ring, as a place to force runaways and unsuspecting young men into prostitution. He’d assumed a gentlemen’s exotic dance club, even an upscale one, would be seedy and filled with men openly soliciting sex and using drugs. What he discovered instead was a found family of sorts where James, the club owner, was more of a fatherly figure to the men he hired, providing a safe place to work, health insurance, and scholarships should they choose to leave and go to school.
Once he’d determined the business was legitimate, he’d turned in his report and returned to the NYPD sex-crimes unit. He’d gotten promoted to detective and worked on several high-profile child-pornography cases, but when it all blew up and went to shit, he decided he was getting too burned out on human suffering. Including his own. He’d put in his twenty years, so he turned in his gun and shield with little regret, and moved on to corporate security, which was where he met Ray Fontana, chief operations officer of one of the largest international banking conglomerates in the world. When Ray asked if he’d like a chance to move to London and head up their security team there, he’d jumped at the chance to run.
Finished shaving, he splashed hot, then cold water on his face, and wiped himself dry. At least he looked human again. He desperately wanted a shower, but he heard movement outside the door, which meant it was time to have a conversation now that he was lucid and not massively irritated.
He opened the door to find the man pacing the room. “Uh, hello.”
“Are you finished? I gotta go.”
“Yeah, sure.” He stepped aside, and the man passed him, only to slam the door in his face. Having no desire to listen to the man’s bodily functions, Tristan headed to the kitchen, where he found a pot of coffee already made.
“Well, that’s a perk.” He poured himself a mug and took a sip. “God, that’s heaven.”
The bathroom door opened, and the man stepped out, giving him a wary look from those hazel eyes. Tristan decided he needed to play nice because there was obviously a mix-up, and they had to figure something out. But he wasn’t going anywhere.
“First of all, I apologize for last night. I didn’t mean to storm in here like a rabid animal and take over, but like I said, I’d been traveling for over thirty hours on no sleep and barely any food, and I lost it.” He set his mug down and tried to act like a decent human being. “Tristan McDermott.”
“Sean Lovett.”
Taking note that Sean didn’t say he accepted the apology, Tristan had to summon up a smile and pretend to be nice. He’d spent too many years alone to fake silly small talk. Terry, his NYPD partner, used to joke that Tristan was the silent but pretty face, which always led their marks to assume he was dumb and there for pure muscle. In the end, maybe they were right, since he’d failed Terry so miserably.
“You said Ray is your brother-in-law?”
“Yeah. He’s married to my sister, Charlotte. How do you know him?”
“I work for his firm. I was head of security for the London branch before transferring to the New York City one.”
“But you’re not British, right?”
Tristan choked on his coffee. “As far from it as possible.” The small town he was from in Upstate New York had about as much in common with London as Times Square had with an empty country field.
“Why would Ray offer you an apartment? I don’t get it.”
“Because he’s a decent guy.” Annoyance spiking, Tristan poured himself another cup of coffee. “When I decided to leave London, he knew I was having trouble finding a place, being overseas. With the housing market so fucking ridiculous here, he offered to put me up until I could find a place of my own.”
From behind his coffee cup, he watched Sean digest his explanation. His wide, expressive eyes narrowed, and his full mouth pulled down in a scowl that was kind of cute. Tristan pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. Sean was a good-looking guy, tall and lean, and anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five, but the sprinkling of freckles across his nose and the golden-brown, shaggy hair gave him a much more youthful appearance. He looked like he belonged on a beach somewhere, instead of a Manhattan apartment. Tristan averted his eyes from those long, toned, hairy legs.
Damn, he needs to put on some pants instead of walking around in boxers.
It had been many long months since he’d been with anyone, and surprised at his body’s response, Tristan turned his back and retreated behind the island to hide.
“I can’t figure out why Ray didn’t know you were living here, if you’re his brother-in-law.”
Gold sparks shot out of Sean’s pretty hazel eyes. “Yeah? You say that as if I’m lying. And Charlotte said she sent him a text, so I don’t know. Maybe he was too busy to read it or whatever. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“Jesus, defensive much?” Tristan muttered. “So what are we going to do about this? I don’t have any place to live.”
“Well, neither do I. My apartment got destroyed in a storm from water damage, and I lost almost everything. I was staying with Charlotte, but I couldn’t deal with all the kids. Much as I love my nieces and nephew, I’m not into nonstop pooping and diaper changes.” An all-too-quick but charming smile lit up his face. “I’m enough of a mess myself.”
Not finding any humor in the subject, Tristan growled, “This is ridiculous.”
“Agreed, but what the hell are we going to do? I don’t have another place lined up, and I’m not moving into a hotel. That’s too damn expensive.” Sean held up his phone. “I’m gonna call Charlotte and figure out what the hell happened.” He sat on the couch and put the phone on speaker. “Char? We have a problem.”
“You’re not kidding. Now the kids have lice. I swear I’m about to shave their heads and let them all go bald for the summer.”
Tristan pressed his twitching lips together, and Sean grinned. “Well, aside from your obvious issues, this one relates to me. Did you tell Ray I was going to use the apartment?”
“Yeah, of course, why?”
