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A One Night Deal
“Well, well, well,” a voice said, soft, cold, with just a hint of an Italian accent. “What have we here?”
Issac was on his feet before his eyes could refocus in the dim light. The voice belonged to a tall man, maybe in his early thirties, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a watch on one wrist, a dark vest and slacks, and dress shoes that had a scuff on one toe. At a quick check, Issac spotted a gun holster in the small of his back, a second one on his ankle, and most likely a knife in his pocket. All hidden in ways that went with the cut line of tailored clothes. Italian Mafia, higher up the ranks than the associates and the occasional soldier Issac had run into before.
His back pressed into the crate behind him. “I didn’t see anything,” he hissed, his chest tight like it was trying to keep his heart from breaking out. “I didn’t hear anything. I’m not here.”
The man paused, a smile just barely on his lips as he looked Issac over. “Is that so?” He took another step forward, putting him directly in Issac’s personal space.
Issac didn’t move when the fingers closed around his neck. He could feel the strength in them as they pressed against his skin. If the man wanted to hurt him, there was nothing Issac could do to break that grip.
“What are you doing in my warehouse,” he asked, leaning forward until Issac could feel hot breath on his cheek.
Something stirred in the pit of Issac’s stomach, a stupid desire to close the gap between the Italian and him. It had been a long time since he’d had any desire to do that and he hated that it was coming up now of all times when he was so close to death. The fingers tightened and he took a breath in case his airflow was cut off. “I needed a place to sleep,” he admitted, not liking how crackling and hoarse his voice sounded.
The Italian’s eyes darted down to where Issac’s bags were, then back up. “There are shelters all over the city,” he pointed out. “Why break in here?”
“Too expensive, I don’t have the money for it,” Issac admitted, standing on his toes to try to relieve the pressure on his neck. There was no point in lying or avoiding the question like he usually did. If he lied and was caught, the mobster would most likely kill him for the insult. The truth felt heavy on his tongue but it wasn’t as if he’d ever see this guy again if he survived. It was a shame because the temp position he had taken over the summer had paid extremely well and Issac had been told he was on a list to return for December. But it wasn’t worth being on the radar. There were other positions. Ones where the mobsters who probably ran them didn’t get this close to his face.
The man leaned back a bit and Issac thought he saw his expression shift briefly into… pity, maybe?
Issac hated pity and clenched his jaw to stare into those hazel eyes, glad to see them harden back to their original calculating stare.
“How old are you,” he asked, leaning right back over Issac and drawing him in closer.
“An adult,” Issac told him shortly and winced as he was shoved back into the crate behind him. The impact was hard enough that he felt it rattle his bones and he choked on a swear as the fingers tightened.
“How old,” the man repeated, with the same calm tone like this was just another day for him. Given how worked over the guy under the office had been, that was exactly what it was for him.
“Tw-twenty-four,” Issac gasped, then winced as he remembered what day it was. “No- Twenty-five.”
“Had a birthday recently, hm,” he asked, almost bored as he pulled Issac back towards him again until their chests almost touched. The man seemed to radiate heat and the urge to curl into him was almost too much for Issac’s cold fingers to resist. “What’s your vice?”
“Vice,” Issac repeated, blinking at him.
“What drugs are you on,” the mobster clarified almost like he was losing his patience.
“I’m not,” Issac hissed, not sure if he was insulted that the man thought he was on drugs or because he thought Issac didn’t know what he had meant. Their faces were so close now that if Issac stuck out his tongue he could lick the man’s nose and that stupid part of his brain still thinking about his new-found desire to get closer to this man tried to take over to do it. He shoved it back down.
“Liar,” the man breathed, the faint fragrance of coffee brushing over Issac’s face.
“Test me, then,” he challenged, on reflex rather than actually thinking it through. The mobster was hardly the first person to accuse him of being a drug addict in the last ten years and he wouldn’t be the last. Issac had long ago decided that it was faster and less annoying to offer to be drug tested than waste time and energy arguing his innocence. It rarely changed anyone’s mind and he braced to be shoved back into the wood behind him.
To his surprise, the man laughed. A low, dark sound that raised more than just the hairs on the back of Issac’s neck. His lips brushed against Issac’s ear as he leaned forward, breathing the words. “You have guts for someone who isn’t here.”
Issac shivered and a small whimper escaped him as teeth scraped against his ear, not hard enough to hurt but not something that could be accidental. The stupid took advantage of the moment and he pressed into the hard muscular form of the Italian, fingers finding the loops that vests always had to try to pull him closer.
His wrists were pinned above his head before Issac could realize that the hand had left his throat. Warm lips pressed against his and all logic and fear left as he kissed the man back. Issac didn’t have much experience when it came to kissing. He never had time for dating and when he sold himself people rarely paid for the foreplay to get him on his knees. Maybe it was just because Issac hadn’t been touched in years, maybe the stress of life and inexperience would have made any contact seem god-level, but he knew to say this man was a good kisser would be an insult.
As tongues pressed together, one hand continued to hold both his wrists, while the other roamed Issac’s body. Issac was sure the man was using it as an excuse to search for weapons or drugs but it didn’t feel any less good, like lightning dancing in its wake. Then it found the front of the pants that had been too big for Issac when he had dug them out of a donation bin.
* * *
Making out with the intruder hadn’t been part of Felinus’s plan for the evening. By all rights, he should have just scared the young man hiding in his warehouse, shoved him into the back seat of Brutus’s car, and told Brutus to take him to a motel with free breakfast to sleep for the night and maybe enough money to secure a spot in the shelters for the rest of the cold front. Everything tied up in a nice little bow where he’d never have to worry about it again. One of the first things Vinny had taught him when Felinus rose through the ranks ahead of any of his peers was that it didn’t matter how much power and money he had, he couldn’t fix everything for everyone. He could give to charities, finance scholarships, grease the wheels for causes Felinus thought were important, give hundred-dollar tips for ten-dollar meals, but he couldn’t do everything and he couldn’t fix one person’s problems just because he wanted to.
When he had seen what had broken into his warehouse, he had felt something in him break a little. The person was small, made even smaller by the baggy clothes they were wearing. He had seen how thin their hands were as they gripped their elbows while hugging their legs. He had been taken aback by how dark their eyes were when they had jumped to their feet, amused by how quick they were to deny being there. There was something… different about how the young man reacted to what was happening and it stirred an interest and curiosity that Felinus hadn’t felt since he had met Tiger three years ago and brought him into his ranks.
Felinus had a knack for finding good people to bring into the Family. Strays that needed a family and would thrive with the love and protection one could offer. He was sure this would be the same as the ones he had found before. At least that was what he told himself as he continued to pry more information out of the young man. He just needed a little bit and he’d be able to keep him under Felinus’s watchful eye until the skill he could use to justify the Family using resources to protect him was revealed. He was so thin that Felinus had been sure drugs were involved. He just needed enough to pin him into compliance.
