Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Oh, please we live in Austin. It’s really not that bad,” Julia said.
“Maybe now,” Jeff muttered. “Also, it’s different for women.”
“Only because straight men fetishize us,” Viola interjected.
This was getting way too philosophical for Nero’s taste. “So we fought our way out and in the end managed to negotiate being released from the ties we used to have with the cartel. It’s been… an interesting time,” he said with a smirk. “We work as tour guides now, showing people around Colombia for honest pay, but the tattoos scare some people off.”
Big Bill cleared his throat. “If it’s not too forward… The teeth. Were they something everyone in your gang got done?”
Nero grinned before snapping his jaws. “No. That’s just me.”
The whole group burst out with laughter that clearly had a hint of fear. As it should.
Miguel shook his head and patted Nero’s back. “Come on, stop bothering these poor people. If they want a tour, they’ll let us know."
Nero chuckled and brushed his hand over Miguel’s chest. “Sorry. I’m a natural-born performer.”
Nero’s heart did a little pirouette when Miguel pulled him by the hand after one more goodbye. His gaze zeroed in on the tattooed fingers holding his, and he had to shake off the imaginary story, reminding himself that they weren’t ex-cartel men turned tour guides-slash-lovers. He had no idea what they were anymore.
Once they walked out onto the upper deck, which had emptied now that so many passengers were about to disembark, Miguel slipped his hand out of Nero's. Nero hoped the tourists wouldn’t realize they’d been plucked clean before they got to shore.
“Don’t you feel sorry taking from your own people?”
Nero frowned. “Since when are tou—” He stalled and let out a cackle, eyeing the crew members setting up the gangplank. “Oh, you mean the gays?”
Miguel nodded and had a sip from the plastic cup as he leaned against the wooden taffrail. His body language seemed perfectly relaxed, like that of a puma resting after a big meal, but Nero knew him for long enough to spot the tension in his shoulders.
Nero gave his boot a gentle kick and smiled as he spotted the group of four leaving the boat with their belongings (or at least some of them) as the port buzzed with activity. Those people would probably blame pickpockets rather than the two nice gay men they’d met onboard. “That’s tribalism. Colombians are also like me, but I don’t hesitate taking from them. Only friends are safe.”
“You don’t have friends,” Miguel said and slurped some water as if he hadn’t just said something cruel.
“No?”
Miguel paused with the cup against his lips, caught off guard, but he did meet Nero’s eyes. “Maybe one.”
Nero’s chest felt tight, but he winked at him and shifted closer, until their elbows met on the wooden rail, sparking fire. “So, what trophies have you brought home?”
Miguel watched the organized group of tourists enter a bus waiting for them beyond the pier. “Money and a few trinkets. You still have your phone, so I figured I wouldn’t rob them of their vacation photos.” He pulled out a chunky gold chain bracelet and offered it to Nero. “You want it?”
Nero’s eyebrows wandered to the top of his forehead. “Whose was that?” he asked but offered Miguel his wrist. It was a quality item!
“Jeff’s. He’ll live.” Miguel had to put his cup down on the deck, and instead of handing the bracelet to Nero, he closed it around his wrist, right next to the protective one Nero never took off. They were both broke as fuck, yet he gave it away as if it was nothing. “I would prefer you keep our story… straight next time.”
“Why?” Nero asked, shivering when the metal locked on him like the prettiest shackle.
“Because I’m not—I don’t like to be seen that way,” Miguel said with a deep exhale, looking into the clear sky. His profile was so handsome, with a pronounced Adam’s apple and a strong chin.
“But that’s who we both are.”
Miguel’s brows drew together, making his discomfort clear. He wouldn’t be able to deny how fervently he’d kissed Nero yesterday. “The world doesn’t have to know my business,” he grumbled.
Nero exhaled. Maybe he was expecting too much from a man so deep in the closet he might as well be a hanger?
He touched the bracelet and watched the boat pull away from the shore as the sun climbed the sky, transforming the waves into shimmery strands. “Whatever. What counts is that one kiss was enough to make you give me jewelry. So sweet,” he said and batted his eyelashes at Miguel.
Miguel groaned. “I didn’t take you for a gold digger, but I guess you’re poor now.” He did kind-of-almost smile at Nero though.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Nero said with a sigh and grinned when they left the town behind, and the shore once again presented pristine countryside views. The gentle breeze smelled of water yet felt like a gentle hand massaging his nape while time passed with easy conversation. Neither of them felt like going back downstairs, so they rested while watching the shore go by.