Edward picked up a white toweling robe and walked over to hold it up for the wet Joseph to shrugon.
“So, what are your qualifications?” Joseph asked as he tied the robe shut and walked over. He looked Cal up and down. “Military?”
“No.”
Joseph lifted one dark groomed eyebrow. There was a birthmark on his forehead, a patch of faded pink skin that dripped down to the corner of his eye and wrinkled with his curious expression. “Police?”
Cal smirked briefly. “Not exactly.” He felt El’s glareon the side of his head and made himself straighten up. “I’ve accreditation in advanced evasive- and defensive-driving courses. I’ve been in a lot of brawls, and I know what I’m doing. We’re drivers, not bodyguards.”
Joseph considered him for a second. Finally he shrugged.
“Fine. If I need a driver,” he said as he cut a sharp look toward Edward, “I suppose you’ll do. I don’t care what you dowhen you’re not driving me, but I expect you to be on call 24/7 for the next month. If that costs extra, I’ll pay it. I’ve a suite here in the hotel. You can have one of the rooms. Any questions?”
Cal shrugged.
“It’s your money,” he said.
“Well, I’m glad someone realizes that,” Joseph said. He shrugged his robe back off, tossed it over a chair, and then turned his back on Cal. “Edward willshow you up to the suite. Give him your number. I’ll call when I need you.”
He paused on the edge of the pool for a second, and Cal took a second to admire the view of lean muscled back and tight ass. Then Joseph dove into the pool, and when Cal looked up, he caught Edward’s eyes on him across the water.
After a second, Edward unclenched his jaw. “I’ll show you up to the room,” he said stifflyand stalked out.
It was a silent trip up in the lift. Edward didn’t say anything until they reached the suite, where he fished a card out of his pocket and swiped the door open.
“You aren’t his type,” he said coldly as he unlocked the door. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Or what?” Cal asked. “What you going to do, Eddie, if I get my hopes all up in Joe’s business?”
It was surprising how manyhard men would stumble when you put them on the spot about their threats. Most people wanted an excuse to let the red mist descend, not to actually explain it ahead of time. It made the whole “I didn’t know what I was doing” front later a lot harder to pull off.
Edward was confident in his violence. He gave a thin smile that didn’t reach farther than his cheekbones.
“You can take the small bedroom,”Edward said as he pushed the door open. The suite opened out from the doors in muted blues and browns, all leather chairs and sepia-tinged maps mounted in waxed-ash frames on the walls. It was probably bigger than most people’s houses; it was definitely bigger than the converted flat Cal rented three streets over from his childhood home. “Third door down. Here’s your key. Don’t steal anything,Mr. Tate. With your record….”
He didn’t need to finish. The point was that he knew. Cal acknowledged the answer of “or what” with a brief nod.
“Mr. Bailey will need you early in the morning,” Edward said as he tugged the cuff of his shirt back to check his wrist. “So you should get a good night’s sleep. We can go over the schedule in the morning.”
Cal shrugged and stepped into the suite. Hewas halfway down the hall when Edward cleared his throat.
“Mr. Tate? I recommended your company for this job because I had nothing but respect for your grandfather,” he said. “I hope I can say the same about you at the end of this month. If I can, you’ll find this contract a lucrative one. That’s the carrot. I do prefer it to the stick.”
Cal didn’t bother to turn around. He shrugged. “I’m hereto drive the car, mate,” he said. “Like you said, with my record I need to keep my nose clean.”
He let himself into the room Edward had pointed out to him. It was small and white with an undersized double bed and a large bay window that looked down into St. Pancras station itself. Cal stripped his tie and jacket off. The back of his neck was itchy with the unfamiliar chafe of the stiff fabric,and he watched the few people out this time of night shuffle through the station.
It hadn’t been a lie. The last thing Cal needed was trouble. He didn’t want to end up like some of the old lags in prison—in for stealing a packet of fags and no real desire to get back out. Nothing left but stories of the old days and a hooker on the outside who’d give them a pensioner’s discount, and they calledher their girlfriend.
What he needed was to get this job done, a nice, dull man like Doc to come home to, and to sort his life out.
The problem was that Cal wanted what he’d always wanted—fast cars and men who were no good for him.
