We smiled at each other over the table. His eyes had changed again—now they were a deep, warm brown, as inviting as his foot under the table had been.
He licked his lips as I watched, and I thought about kissing that mouth, about pushing him to his knees and feeding my cock into those soft, pillowy lips.
“So why don’t you—” the guy started, but I held up a hand.
“One second.”
The drunks in the corner were kicking up about being moved on by Tim the bartender. I wasn’t security, but I collected enough protection money from these places in WeHo that I figured I owed them help where I could give it, like that predator hanging out in the bathroom before.
Technically, Castellani protection extended only to cutting off threats from any other groups, gangs, or Families, not college kids with fake IDs. But like I said, I tried to be helpful where I could.
These particular drunks weren’t difficult to deal with; they were rowdy but not violent, and I paid out of pocket myself to give them a discount on their tab, although I let them see they could talk face-to-fist if they preferred.
They took the discount and got the hell out.
“You don’t need to do that,” Tim demurred, when I held out a fifty to make up the tab.
“No, but you don’t need to give me a free drink every time I come in, either. Take it.”
Back at the booth, the guy was slumping forward on the table, chin in his hands, watching me with a smirk tugging his mouth to the side. “Smooth,” he said, when I arrived back. I gave a swift bow and the smirk widened to a grin. “Isthatyour job? Security? Like that asshole in the alley before?”
“That? That wasn’t work. That was pleasure.” I tapped the brim of my hat, which he was still wearing, down over his eyes, and grinned as he made a face and pulled it off.
“But youdowatch out for people in here,” he said, setting the hat back on the table carefully as I slid back into the booth. “I’ve seen you do it before tonight, too. And…you know.” He sat back in the seat, his eyes dropping to my waist.
I realized what he was looking at. “Ah,” I said. “You saw the gun.”
“So did those guys you kicked out. But I think youmeantfor them to see. Right?”
“Just a little encouragement.”
Under the table, his leg threaded in between mine again. “So you’re—what? Private security for the bar?”
“Not exactly.”
“A cop? No,” he said, dismissing his own guess with a frown. “Definitely not a cop.”
My eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”
“A private investigator?” He leaned forward. “Warm?”
“Cold as hell.” Just like my libido. I’d suddenly remembered who I was.WhatI was. Flirting with this kid was a dangerous thing to do—for both of us. I pulled my legs back and slid out of the booth again. “Anyway. Thanks for the drink.” It was a shame the night had to end, but the fact was, if I stayed any longer I reallywouldgo home with him.
And that would lead to places I didn’t want to go. This man, whose name I didn’t know and whose face was already too familiar, had gotten under all my usual defenses. He threatened my life alright, but in a way I’d never felt before. He was a seductive, treacly threat that made me want to open up my heart, just a crack, just to see what happened.
But I was a dead man walking, and it wasn’t fair to either of us to pretend any different.
I’d file tonight away as a warm memory to pull out in my lowest moments. Maybe even in the moment before someone’s bullet put an end to me, if I was lucky enough to see that bullet coming. My father hadn’t. I sometimes wondered what the last thought inhisbrain had been before the bullet destroyed it.
“You alright to get home?” I asked the guy, more out of politeness than anything else. “I can call you a—”
“Come home with me.”
He was leaning on one elbow, looking up at me, his eyes glowing, and not from the booze.
Shit. It was tempting.Sotempting. “Listen,” I said firmly, “you seem like a real nice person, and that’s why you don’t want to get mixed up with me.”
“Come home with me,” he said again, and this time he slipped out of the booth in one fluid movement, like atoms and space meant something different to his body than they did to the rest of us. “Normally by this time of night, I’d’ve already sucked your dick in the bathroom and moved on. But we had anactual conversation. You know how many guys I have actual conversations with?”
