The guy sneers. “Sure, ask him.”
I tip my head down, angling it so that I can look into the twink’s light blue eyes. “Do you?”
He gulps loudly, then shakes his head. I smirk at the guy who now has a visible vein throbbing in his massive forehead.
“He said no,” I drawl just loud enough for him to hear me over the music.
But the guy doesn’t stop. He just tries to drag the twink away, but I’ve had enough. I shove the guy hard until he lets go of the blond that now stands still, just slightly swaying on his feet behind me. When a fist punches me in the stomach, I laugh at the absurdity of the moment, then throw one of my own. The dude goes down with a loud crack against the dance floor and suddenly I’ve got the distraction I needed because all the bodyguards are rushing toward me. Oh no. Maybe this was not the guy to punch tonight.
I pick the twink up, toss him over my shoulder, and make a break for it outside as the guards chase after us. Fuck. How am I going to get out? Also, this guy isn’t even fighting me which is bad news altogether if he’s taken something. Goddamnit. Now I’m cursing my height because there’s noway to sneak away unseen, which means I’ll have to steal a car or hide somewhere else. The dead weight of the twink is not helping either.
The guard at the front door presses his finger to his ear, then narrows his eyes on me as I come to a sliding halt in front of him.
“Hey, buddy,” I say with an aw-shucks grin.
The guard slides his hand to his hip, but I’m faster, even one-handed as I keep my left arm over the thighs of the twink to not lose him. One right hook later and the guard crumbles to the floor. Glancing over my shoulder, I see four other guards fighting the crowd, so I know it’s time to run as fast as I can. The night air is chilly since it’s autumn in Eastport. My years of track in high school really pay off as I make a break for it, totally ignoring my bike that’s parked in the lot of the club. Hopefully the boys can get it home before it can give authorities a lead. Although it’s registered to a dummy limited liability company, so hopefully we’re fine. Fuck. Think about the matter at hand, Dante.
My head is light as I pant during my frantic run through the city streets. I spot a dark alley, and turn into it. I place the twink on his feet, carefully situating him against the damp wall to grab my phone out of my too-tight leather pants pocket. No messages from the boys and my comms are still dead. Shit.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight to blot out the irritation. I knew it would go down like this but no one ever fucking listens to me. I’m just the brawn… but sometimes I know what I’m talking about. I need to stop letting Hayden always get his way.
“Where am I?” the twink slurs, eyes narrowed to slits as he stares blankly at me.
I slap his cheek softly to wake him up more. “What’s your address, so I can get you home?”
He mumbles something but I can only make out six forty-two. There are only so many addresses with that number combination in the immediate area. Wait. Maybe he has a wallet. I fumble around to reach his back pocket, but that's when he decides that I’m a danger. Lifting his arm fast, he uppercuts me and my eyes sting with tears. Jesus. Now my nose is bleeding, my phone is useless, and I’ve got my hand in the twink’s back left pocket, not remotely in the way I was imagining back at the club. This night blows.
He slumps back against the wall, looks at me once, opens his mouth, and I have just enough presence of mind to take a step back as he hurls all over the place. Nooooooo, not my special edition Chucks. Fuck. Hayden owes me Chucks and headphones now. But at least I have hot twink’s wallet. Reid—he doesn’t look like a Reid. He lives at six forty-two Highland Avenue. That’s not far from us and pretty close to the university.
A slight sheen of sweat covers Reid’s face despite the coolness of the night. My lips bunch to the side as I bite the inside of my cheek. I hope he has a roommate or something to check on him, otherwise I’ll have to take him back to our house. The fastest way for me to get murdered is bringing someone home. Parker would be livid.
I order a rideshare from an app, then do my best to gather Reid into my arms in a way that looks remotely normal. Once the ride comes, I carefully arrange Reid into the back seat, buckling him in.
He smells like really nice cologne, the kind that they keep behind the locked counter at department stores. It’s sweet and spicy at the same time. I bite down harder on my cheekas the driver pulls away, his eyes glancing often in the rearview mirror no doubt thinking I’m some kind of pervert. I toss a hundred-dollar bill at the driver before hastily climbing out of the car to toss Reid over my shoulder in another fireman's carry.
He lets out a long groan as I march up the brick stairs leading to his three-story townhome. A light is on downstairs, so I don’t feel too bad knocking. The doorbell at the front turns green as if someone is watching me, so I duck down with a grin and pat Reid’s thighs.
“Got a delivery for you, a Reid Warton.”
The light turns red, so I stand back up and try to squint through the shaded glass of the door. Nothing. A few moments later, a shadow appears and the door opens to reveal another short guy, this time with hair so dark auburn, but with the same hypnotizing light blue eyes as Reid.
“Reid? Where did you find him?”
“Uhm.”
The guy winces. “Right. Can you help me get him inside? I can’t carry him. I’ll pay you.”
“You don’t need to pay me,” I mumble, but the guy doesn’t hear me, he’s already turned around and heading back inside.
The place is outfitted with more technology than the house I share with the boys. Everything is sleek. Marble floors, dark wood stairs leading to the other floors. Reid’s arms slap my thighs as I carry him up the stairs, following along behind the guy that I’m hoping is Reid’s brother considering their similarities. A dark bedroom on the second floor is where I’m led, and like the good boy I am, I carefully lay Reid down on the rumpled bed. It’s still dark, so I can’t make out the posters on the walls, but the room has thatsame sweet-and-spicy smell that washed over me earlier in the car.
Some odd urge comes over me that makes me lift the blanket from the foot of the bed to cover Reid up. He quickly rolls over onto his side, curled fists tucked under his cheek, making his lips bunch as he sighs in his sleep. The platinum-blond strands of his hair stick to his forehead. Just as I reach out to brush the fine-looking strands away, someone behind me clears their throat.
I stand up straight and turn around to meet the knowing face of Reid’s brother.
“You’re awfully nice to bring him home.”
I shift awkwardly on my feet. “I didn’t want him to go home with the wrong person. Plus, he threw up on me.”
