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Sven Larsen stood with his arms crossed, a foreboding frown on his blond bearded face. The man’s incredibly tall, broad figure was deterrent enough, but that frown raised the hair on the back of Shane’s neck. And he knew it was a complete dichotomy to the man’s kind nature.
Garrett Hayes stood on the other side of the podium. Slimmer than Sven, he looked no less imposing with his dark, muscular arms showing beneath the tight sleeves of his Polo shirt. Black eyes swept the crowd, sharp and thorough as he inspected every person there for several moments each. Shane had never had the pleasure of talking to him, but it sure as hell was nice to look at him. He had classically handsome features that were completely visible since he kept his hair trimmed close to his scalp in a buzz cut.
The third Ward Security guard was one he hadn’t yet met. A shock of deep red hair fell in a taper fade undercut—not Shane’s favorite style—but this guy got away with the rakish fall of bangs. Maybe in part due to the obviously still-fading scars on his face, or the mischievous gleam in his eyes—one that was visible even from where Shane stood. He got the feeling the guard used his charm to disarm people, make them think he wasn’t dangerous. But there was no doubt he was.
Rowan Ward only hired the best.
A group of loud protestors gathered on the corner in front of a bank. Another cluster loitered across the street on Sycamore by the Deloitte building. Police and orange safety barriers held them back, so they made their displeasure in the proceedings clear with booming yells and big, waving signs that said things like, Fund Rehab Programs and Make Cincy Streets Safer.
Shane leaned in close so Quinn could hear him, accidentally brushing his lips across the rim of his ear. He didn’t miss the slight shudder or how quickly Quinn pulled away from him. “Sorry,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise. “I didn’t mean to come in that close. I just want you to be able to hear me without all the shouting.”
Quinn nodded and shuffled back to him. Because he stood three inches shorter, his black hair brushed Shane’s nose. He got the impression of silky softness and the faint scent of citrus and vanilla, and he hoped Quinn didn’t notice that he had to briefly close his eyes.
“What did you want to tell me?” Quinn asked, those blue eyes big behind the black-framed glasses Shane found ridiculously sexy.
“If I wanted to blend in this crowd to divert attention, I’d mix in with the protestors. Let’s stand closer to them. Just pay attention to people because you never know what you might pick up.”
Quinn nodded and followed him around the group of shouting people until they stood in front of the Deloitte Building by the fountain. Shane looked over at Quinn and was impressed to find that he gave the casual appearance of looking up something on his phone but was actually snapping picture after picture of the protestors. He zoomed in and out with nimble fingers, clearly capturing faces and signs for future reference. He’d heard whisper that Ward had access to some facial recognition software. If they spotted someone interesting, he could always see if Quinn could run it…after he checked with Hollis about its legality. It felt like a gray area, and he was trying damn hard to stay out of that treacherous zone.
“Hey, G Man!”
Shane turned at the yell and watched a stunning, compact blond walk up to Quinn and hug him. He recognized Geoffrey Ralse from well, everything. The local millionaire was often the talk of the town but had been in the news recently, when he’d been kidnapped by a crazed former app developer. The local stations had rejoiced in the seediness of the whole story, showing the uploaded footage to social media of the man being accosted.
The rage Shane had felt when he’d seen that still held enough fire to burn his gut. This was the first time he was seeing the man in person, and he seemed so small and delicate. He was suddenly glad the sicko who’d taken him was dead.
“What are you doing here?” Quinn asked Geoffrey. “I never took you for a political man. Or is it the theater opening that brought you here?”
“Hell, no. It’s that gorgeous Viking aiming that hot-as-fuck fierce scowl at everyone.” Geoffrey fanned himself as he pointed. “I never miss any opportunities to see him in action and most of his jobs are private, so he’s not out in public.”
Shane watched Geoffrey’s boyfriend, Sven, searching the crowd, his frown increasing when he spotted Geoffrey among the protestors. Geoffrey just offered him a cheeky wave and blew him a kiss. Sven’s wink was so quick, Shane nearly missed it.
