Forrest hated this part of the job, the fake words that felt like acid on his tongue. Usually it came easily. He’d smile, giggle in the most outrageous way, and tell the client he missed him and his big cock too. Montague was different. Forrest felt zilch for him, not even that sense of friendly care that he held for most clients. If anything, Montague terrified him.
Goose bumps tickled his skin, but he slid his hand in Montague’s and tugged him toward the wide staircase. They took each step slow, and Forrest dragged out the walk to his room as much as he could.
“You’re so fucking sexy. Your ass is to die for.” Montague’s hot breath against his ear made Forrest swallow around the lump in his throat and hold back a disgusted shiver. “I’m going to destroy that hole.”
“I’m sure you will.” The moment they got to his door, his stomach knotted, but he opened it and waited for Montague to close it behind them. He didn’t look around because he didn’t know if he owned the balls to, but when Montague’s arms encircled his waist and his chest pressed against Forrest’s back, Forrest knew he was trapped.
All you have to do is tell Rourke. He’d put a stop to it.But would he? Rourke was a businessman, just like Sloan Killough, and just like Conall now too.
“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Montague bit out, his hard voice turning sharp with warning.
Forrest closed his eyes. “No. I told you I wouldn’t.”
“You better not.” Montague’s hot lips touched the back of his neck. “Now that I know Diaz is after the Virtue, if you say a damn thing to your boss, I’ll tell her everything.”
Ice slithered into his veins, freezing his insides. “She’ll get you on soliciting a prostitute.”
Montague snorted. “No, she won’t. She’s more interested in taking down Killough. She’d give me a pass to tell her everything I knew.”
Forrest let out a deep breath when Montague’s arms tightened around him. “Do you know who you’re threatening? Killough doesn’t take prisoners.”
“It’s something neither of us will have to worry about, as long as you keep your mouth shut.” Montague seized Forrest’s wrist and spun him around. His other hand came up to grip Forrest’s throat, squeezing until tears bled out of Forrest’s eyes. “Will you keep your mouth shut, whore?”
Forrest’s gasped when he added even more pressure to his neck. The tears burned, and he could barely speak. “I said I would.” The blubber of words came out strangled.
Montague gave him a downright terrifying smile, but he released Forrest’s throat and he gasped in air greedily. “Good. I’ll make sure to leave bruises in coverable areas. Get on the bed, you fucking bitch.”
Forrest bit back a whimper. He wasn’t Catholic like Rourke, but in that moment, he prayed some god would help him.
Chapter Four
Rourke stretched in his office chair and sighed. He’d been working for eight hours straight and his body and mind were sore and tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he went out for a one-night stand. Two, maybe three weeks ago?
Fuck. Had it really been that long? I need to get laid.
He cracked his knuckles and stood, checking the time on his phone. Ten at night, which meant most of the whores would either be in bed, getting a good night’s rest for their clients the next day, or treating an overnight client. Overnights paid a lot more cash, but there were plenty of men, and women, who were willing to pay it for a full night with a professional. Hell, Rourke would have been tempted if he didn’t run the Virtue. He missed the heat of a man’s body spooned against his chest and then waking the next day for morning sex.
Maybe he needed to go to one of the other whorehouses and enjoy the spoils over there. Terrance wouldn’t mind watching the place for a night. Rourke shook the thoughts out of his head. With Diaz hanging around, he didn’t have time for a night off.
“I need fresh air,” he mumbled, before he grabbed his thick coat and headed up the stairs and toward the roof, an area restricted to the whores. Sometimes they were unpredictable, and with the Virtue now clean of drugs, Rourke didn’t trust the whores to not either jump off the building, or find a way to escape. They weren’tprisoners, but if they left the premises, they always needed to take one of the guards with them. It kept them safe from any clients who saw them on the streets and thought they could get a freebie.
When he got to the door located up the fire exit stairs, Rourke found the knob unlocked. He frowned and opened it, stepping outside in the frigid January winter wind. While the cold, crisp air seemed lazier than usual tonight, the cold could still freeze balls off.
“Who’s here?” Rourke yelled when he closed the door. No one answered him. The lights of New York City glimmered on the horizon, and the sounds of honking cars might have annoyed most people, but Rourke grew up in this city and he thought of the sounds as home.
Taking farther steps across the cement rooftop, he paused when he saw two legs sticking out from behind the brick wall of the chimney. He frowned but circled around it to see who it was.
Forrest stared back at him with hooded eyes, a half empty bottle of Terrance’s expensive bourbon in his hand. He waved the bottle at Rourke and grinned. “Hey, Rourkey. What’chu doin’?”
“The question should be what areyoudoing, Forrest?” He crossed his arms, taking in the slurred speech and disorientated sprawl. “You know the roof is restricted access.”
“Not to your highest earners,” he sing-songed in response. “I’m spe-cial!”
Hewasspecial, in ways he didn’t know. From the day Rourke met Forrest, he knew Forrest’s secrets were vast. He wasn’t just another professional who enjoyed having sex, or making money, but something deeper plagued him, like a wild animal waiting to be let out of a cage. Rourke recognized the chaotic energy because he felt the same thing inside himself. Forrest had intelligence, even though he didn’t go to college, and he possessed a survival instinct that most other people never needed.
“Why are you drunk?” Rourke snatched the bottle out of Forrest’s hand, ignoring the noise of surprise he made, and slid down against the bricks next to him. Rourke took a sip and grimaced. Strong shit.
Forrest shrugged his slim shoulders and pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning forward to rest his body against them and wrap his arms around his legs. “Wanted to.”
