Gage nodded and slowly lowered his hands, still looking a little confused.
He left Gage and went to his place to get ready, but before he did, he initiated their exit protocol.
He pinged Corvo, logged the departure and arrival windows, the destination perimeter, and submitted the shadow coverage request.
He was getting more and more excited, hoping Gage would like his surprise.
And when they got back, he’d let his sexy partner put his hands anywhere he wanted, do whatever he was comfortable with, and whatever that was would be more than enough for him.
Scar stood inside the last security checkpoint, waiting for Gage.
He wondered if he was primping for him. He saw Elias and two other members of their wardrobe department going into his apartment.
Scar had never cared about clothes until he heard Gage enjoyed textures, so he’d asked Elias to upgrade his wardrobe.
Tonight, he wore black Burberry corduroy trousers and a Prada supima cotton T-shirt, hoping Gage wouldn’t be able to stop touching him.
Their four-person shadow team wore civilian gear, black ops mercenaries, meant to look harmless.
“We’ll be shadowing you for the duration, but don’t worry, we’re good at what we do. You and Saint will have your privacy.”
Scar offered his hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Enjoy your night,” he said, then disappeared with his team out of the side door.
Scar exhaled and rolled his shoulders once, wondering why he was so nervous.
A couple of minutes later, footsteps drew closer from his left, too heavy and clunky to be Gage’s walk, which was all stealth and control.
Roz came around the corner, and Scar didn’t bother to hide his annoyance
He was the same height as him, around six-three, stocky with tattoos—black-and-gray drawings telling stories of the streets he’d once controlled—covering both forearms that disappeared under his sleeves.
His features revealed his Hispanic heritage: prominent cheekbones, warm skin, deep-set brown eyes, the kind of face that was both handsome and dangerous, depending on who he wanted to be in the moment.
But for Scar, it was the wrong kind of handsome.
He preferred wholesome, gentle features, mysterious translucent eyes, and blond hair, a calm that could turn ruthless when pushed. A man who wouldn’t kill but would break a man if provoked.
Roz stopped two feet away, his thick brows turned down. “I got the alert my asset called in a liberty.”
Your asset. My everything.
Scar grinned. He couldn’t help it. Roz was easy to rile, and Scar had too much restless energy right now to pretend to be polite.
“Yep. He’s my date tonight.” Scar winked. “Don’t wait up.”
Roz stepped in close enough to make the intimidation real.
“If you hurt him,” he said quietly, “I’ll kill you.”
Scar’s grin faded. He leaned in too, not backing down, but not escalating, just meeting Roz halfway.
“Know this,” he said between clenched teeth. “You can save your threats, because I’d die before I let him get hurt by anyone, including me.”
Roz’s gaze seemed to search his for any hints of deception.
“You really think I couldn’t get to Gage when he was rolling with your crew?” he scoffed.
