“Well, he’s not a paid professional, certainly not someone with a record.” Conall stroked his chin. “We had a small meeting about it and we think Mateo looks like the barista. We’re going to whisper in the café owner’s ear, get little barista boy replaced with Mateo. He’ll give her what she wants, an obedient man who’d follow her every order. Then when the time’s right, he takes her back to an apartment and some photos are taken, we give out threats. The usual.”
Forrest rolled his eyes. He should have expected they’d choose Mateo. He’d once been in acting school before he dropped out after not being able to afford the tuition. He certainly had the women who came in believing they were special to him. “What if she doesn’t play ball? Diaz doesn’t seem to be the type of person who’d take to blackmail very kindly.”
“She’s not,” Conall muttered. “I told Sloan we should take her down for good. Send in photos of her with Mateo to Internal Affairs.”
“But that would get Mateo into trouble.”
“It’d be worth it. Sloan would take care of Mateo’s needs by getting him the best lawyers.”
Forrest shrugged. “Seems like a lot of work for someone who’s done nothing more than threaten. It’s not like she’s sent anyone to investigate building code violations for real.”
“She won’t. We’ve made sure to stick to the codes, and she knows it. She just wanted to rattle our cage.”
“And you’ve probably got someone paid in that department, right?”
Conall’s sly smile answered Forrest’s question.
Forrest shoved himself to his feet, Conall’s gaze following his movements. “Sounds like you have everything handled then. I need to go get my client list and get ready for work.”
Sadness seeped into Conall’s dark blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Forrest.”
Forrest smiled gently. “No, you’re not. I’m glad everything’s turned out well for you, Conall. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He spun on his heel and stormed toward the door. The guards didn’t stop him when he shot over the threshold and down the hallway. He walked as fast as his legs would let him and by the time he got to the reception area, his chest heaved in deep, soul-sucking breaths.
Sam blinked up at him, eyes narrowed. His hair was dyed black today and it went with his coloring better than the bleached blond. A new piercing penetrated the corner of his lip. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. List?” Forrest held out his hand, and Sam passed him a piece of paper. Forrest ignored Sam as he ripped it open and stilled as he read the names. Most of them were his usual clients, with a few new names and needs sprinkled in, but it was the last name of the list that made his blood freeze. The man sleeping over with him tonight—Eric Montague.
Montague never chose an overnight stay. He always said he wanted to, but he was too busy and had a wife to get home to. The fact that Eric usually had to rush out after they fucked made Forrest more than happy. Now everything had changed, and panic squeezed at his chest. He couldn’t spend an entire night with Montague and his brutal hands, except he had no choice.
“Forrest, you’ve gone really pale.” Sam shot out from behind the desk, his hands clamping down on Forrest’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
The panic held him in a vice grip as he imagined all the things Montague would do to him overnight. The idea that he might not even be able to walk the next day made his stomach clench and gave him the temptation to walk out of the front doors right now and never return. Instead, Forrest shook his head and forced a smile. If only he’d been a good actor like Mateo because he knew how fake he looked. “I’m fine. I need to get ready.”
Sam gave him a look of disbelief. “Before you go, Rourke wants to see you. He asked me to send you to his office when you come down to get your list.”
Forrest closed his eyes for a brief second and patted Sam’s arm in thanks. Sam dropped his hold when Forrest turned and walked back up the stairs toward the bedrooms. He passed three professionals with their clients on the way there. Alice was saying goodbye to her balding client with a kiss on the lips at her bedroom door, while Angel was leading hisintohis room. Jagger, on the other hand, was having sex right there in the hallway, his ass stuck out with his palms flat against the wall, his muscly biker-looking client fucking his big dick into Jagger’s hole. Jagger’s dramatic moans would make anyone roll their eyes.
Forrest would have been amused, if he wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of Montague. He did manage to say, “Don’t let Rourke or Terrance catch you out here, and don’t get any spunk on the clean walls, they’ll be pissed,” on the way past.
Jagger merely waved at him with a wink. “Sure thing, Forrest, baby.”
The man behind him grunted and fucked into him harder.
He made it up the stairs to the third floor before someone touched his shoulder and he flinched. Spinning around, he glared at Alice. She stood in a pair of red, glittery high heels, but not much else. The skimpy underwear set she wore barely covered her lady parts. Her damp hair was twisted on her head, but being between clients meant she needed to prepare for the next one.
“What?” He snarled meaner than he’d meant to.
She pursed her lips with displeasure at him. “I need to talk to you about Heaven.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d approached him since Heaven’s death, asking to chat with him. He’d ignored her every attempt. Forrest didn’t give a damn about her excuses. “I don’t have time.”
“But—”
“Alice, I don’t have time. Fuck off.”
She glared. “You’re an asshole.”
Forrest got in nice and close to her and gritted his jaw. “Only to you. You fucked up and now Heaven’s dead.”
