Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
O’Brian had a natural athleticism, an energy that made his every move graceful. Valenti had often thought his partner was like a leopard, full of lithe, barely contained power waiting to explode into action. And despite everything that could go wrong and everything that had already gone wrong, Valenti found he didn’t have the heart to deny him. God help me if he ever asks for something I can’t give. He sighed deeply and ran a tanned hand through his black hair. “Nah, it’s all right,” he said at last, heavily. “Let’s just try to take it easy, okay?”
“Okay,” O’Brian agreed affably. “C’mon, partner, let’s go tell everybody how you got that hickey having a three-way with Whatzername and her sister last night.”
Valenti burst out laughing -- he couldn’t help it. And he thought again that if they could just stay comfortable around each other, keep breaking the tension with laughter and jokes, that everything might be okay.
But the RamJack, as Twonnie had tried to warn them, was no laughing matter.
Chapter Five
A loud pounding on the door of the suite brought Valenti out of his reverie. Glancing at his watch, he realized he’d been sitting on the side of the vast bed for almost forty-five minutes, just thinking. The pounding came again, louder this time, and he jumped up and went for the door.
“Coming!” He pulled back the solid oak door to find a sheepish-looking O’Brian flanked by a pair of the biggest goons he’d ever laid eyes on. One had black hair, and the other was blond; both were built like gorillas and dressed from head to foot entirely in black leather. The blond-haired goon had a face like a side of beef, and one burly hand was clutching O’Brian’s bicep in a death grip.
Before he remembered the wealthy sugar-daddy role he was supposed to be playing, Valenti blurted out, “O’Brian, you okay?” Then, seeing the eyes of the black-haired goon narrow, he quickly added, “What’s this about?”
“Is this your boy, Mr. Valenti?” the goon on the left demanded, shaking O’Brian by the arm the way a big dog might shake a little one. They had decided to keep their names as close as possible to the real thing, to avoid confusion.
Valenti saw the belligerent look in his partner’s eye and answered quickly. “Yes, he’s mine. Is there a problem?” He almost added “officer” before he thought about it. The two goons had the menacing air of authority that branded them as part of the RamJack’s security force.
“He was found wandering in an unsecured area without his sponsor,” goon number one replied, shaking O’Brian again to make his point. The action aroused possessive feelings in Valenti he had never felt before.
“Is that a problem?” he snapped, reaching out to take O’Brian’s arm himself and pulling the shorter man toward him. Without thinking, he looped a proprietary arm around his partner’s neck. He felt O’Brian stiffen for a moment, and then his partner’s arms went around his waist and the compact body melted naturally against his side. Good for you, Sean -- play along, he thought absently as he continued to give his iciest glare to the two gorillas at the door.
“It can be,” the blond goon said. “Unless you wish your boy to be available to other members of the club ...”
“Absolutely not! O’Br-- Sean is mine.” Valenti cursed himself for nearly slipping on the name again, and he didn’t miss the disbelieving look both goons were giving him, either. Damn it, he was playing this badly; he’d never been so rattled while undercover before. What was wrong with him? Trying to regain control of the situation, he stood up straighter and said, “Sean is my exclusive property. I would be very upset if anyone else ...” He couldn’t think quite how to end it, so he said again, “He’s mine.”
“Then you’d better keep him close, Mr. Valenti,” the black-haired goon growled, speaking for the first time. He had a voice like someone gargling with gravel. “An unaccompanied boy is free game at the RamJack. If you want to keep his tight ass all to yourself, you’d better keep an eye on Sean here.” The emphasis he put on the names let Valenti know that neither goon believed they were who they said they were. A bad start, even if they were only assuming he was a closeted gay trying to protect his identity by using a false name.
“I’ll try to remember that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen ...” Valenti used his free arm, the one that wasn’t looped around his partner’s neck, to swing the door shut in their beefy faces. After a moment, the muffled sound of heavy footsteps on thick carpet could be heard, and he sighed in relief and turned to his partner.
“Hey, don’t look at me -- how was I s’posed to know?” O’Brian shrugged Valenti’s arm off his shoulders, frowning. “I was just checkin’ out the scene. I saw a dark area -- looked perfect for drug deals. So I decided to check it out.”