Gray nodded back to the motorcycle. “Last chance to wait it out. I can drop you off somewhere safe, then come back and do the work on my own.”
Jameson brightened. “Hell no. Do you know how much fun this is for me?”
Gray swept him up in an embrace, then pressed Jameson back against the brick wall. He trailed his hands down Jameson’s side, earning a shudder that made his cock hard. “Once I get you in private and take that scarf off, I’m never going to stop kissing you.”
Jameson pressed his face against Gray’s ear. “Then let’s get a move on,” he said. “Just one question, first.”
Gray leaned back. “What’s that?”
“Tell me why,” Jameson said. “What makes you want to take out guys like this?”
Gray grunted. “Funny. No one really asks me that,” he said. “For me, I guess it’s like I’m trying to make up for what my family did. A lot of my uncles and cousins were bad people, and when I see other assholes, taking advantage, I feel like it’s up to me to even the scoreboard, you know?”
He sighed, then kicked back against the brick wall. “Raiden, I think, has just been fighting so long, he doesn’t know how to do it any other way. Horatio’s got his own clouds, but he’s a quiet guy. He wouldn’t want me spreading his business.”
Jameson nodded. He looked satisfied, and Gray felt relieved, like he had passed some test, even though the biggest challenge was right on the other side of the door.
“Thanks,” Jameson said. “Should we get a drink?”
Inside, the strip club was pretty much how Gray had expected. All his familiar instincts kicked into gear as he eyed the place, making note of the small groups of men scattered around, the placement of the exits, and any other detail he might be able to use. It was dark inside, except for the well-lit stage, but as his vision adjusted, the gleaming silver poles and cushy red booths came into focus.
“You’ll be good?” he said to Jameson, dropping his voice under his breath. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Jameson winked to Gray over his shoulder. “We’ll see who gets good information first. Don’t underestimate a guy with pretty eyes.”
He took off to the bar, and Gray smiled to himself, not only because of the way Jameson had started to sway his hips when he walked. That alone would have kept Gray grinning the rest of the day.
Since they’d gotten to the hotel, Gray wasn’t sure whether he was the one dragging Jameson on an adventure, or whether it was the other way around. It was like there was an imp, hidden deep inside Jameson, and now that he was woken up, Gray realized it was impossible to tell the guy no.
He just looked so damn happy.
Gray crossed over to the other end of the bar, down from Jameson, and got himself a beer. With a generous tip to the bartender, he wandered across the floor, then found a seat at a small table, comfortably positioned between a few different groups of men. The dancers were on break so the stage was empty, and some generic pop song was playing over the speakers.
Leaning back in his chair, Gray sipped his beer, careful to look casual. He’d usually pull his phone out and pretend to be engrossed in his screen, but of course, he and Jameson had pulled that plug. Instead, he did his best just to listen while the men around him complained about the stock market and argued sports.
It wasn’t until the first dancer came out, swaying to an old R&B song, that Gray’s mind started to wander, and he felt a little nervous. Sipping his beer, he thought about where he and Jameson were going. He thought about it literally because he still had no idea where they would sleep that evening, but he also started to worry about the bigger picture.
If it was this damn hard to get away for a single night, how did he expect them to keep going for longer? Which was, Gray realized, exactly what he wanted. For them to go on much, much longer. He wanted it so fucking much, in fact, that he started to freak out a little. It made him push his better judgment aside and do something boneheaded like drag a superstar to the strip club.
He gripped his glass. What if he kept dragging Jameson along, pulling him into these schemes? Gray might be able to pull off a quick scam on a drunk man in a crappy dive bar, but eventually, sooner or later, he knew his luck would run out.
Gray swallowed some more beer. The men on one side were still talking about sports, and on the other, they had started complaining about the weather. He cursed under his breath. He’d expected better fishing at a place so near the business district. But then he glanced at the bar again and caught Jameson, trying to subtly grab his attention.
Gray threw back the rest of his beer, then sauntered over to the bar. He wanted to order himself a few shots, but he knew he’d have to drive in a bit. Instead, he took a stool, two down from Jameson, and ordered a soda water.
“The redhead in the suit,” Jameson said quietly. “By the stage.”
Gray stole a glance up front. “I see him.”
“He runs one of those gay conversion camps.” Jameson was whispering through his scarf, and out of the corner of his eye, Gray noticed that he had worked out a situation with a straw and a cocktail. “The places where they try to force teenagers to be straight. Apparently it’s still legal across the border in Pennsylvania.”
“Fuck.” Gray spat out the word. He hated that people were cruel enough to do that. “How do you know?”
“The bartender was telling one of the dancers. I guess the guy never tips, either. Does that help?”
Gray tapped his knuckles against the bar. “Aces. Keep it up, Jameson.”
Jameson sipped his drink through the straw. “Over and out,” he whispered, then giggled.
