“Yeah, Jalen said. Got a call from him saying we owed him for all the times the three of us fucking kept him awake at night. Fucking bullshit.” The angry blond must have decided we’re okay. He tosses out an old-fashioned looking key on a clunkyring, turning away without bothering to see if I catch it. Which I do, but still.
“You’re in the Henry James suite. Enjoy your stay,” he calls over his shoulder. “Come on, Kitten. Let’s go the fuck back to bed.”
Kitten?
The older one, tall and muscular with dark hair, glances between the one who threw the key at us and the one still staring at us before giving an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s grumpy when he’s tired. Uh, enjoy your stay.”
He turns and follows the other one inside.
The last one, he’s got his long hair pulled up in a sloppy bun and long lashes that would make any model jealous. His full lips that are curved into a slight smile and his kind eyes make him almost pretty. It would be tempting to think he’s the safe one. The nice one. Except the careful way he observes us both tells me his good nature only goes so far.
“Come on in. I’ll show you guys to your room,” he says.
“Thanks.” I check around as we walk inside. It’s dark, but from what I can tell the decor is an odd mix of cozy Victorian and old horror movie memorabilia. Rowan trails behind me, carrying Iggy’s tank in a death grip.
“Interesting place. Uh, how do you know Jalen?” I ask.
“We used to be his downstairs neighbors. We also used to work for Brennan.” He taps the back of his hand against Rowan’s shoulder. “Good to see you again.”
For the first time, Rowan seems to focus on what’s happening in front of us. “Oh. Yeah. Adam, right? Hi.”
Adam nods. “Sounds like you got into some trouble with a client?”
“Something like that,” Rowan mumbles.
“We’ve all been there. You’ll be okay. Whatever it is, I’m sure Brennan will take care of it.”
I’m frustrated that I can’t step up and declare that I will take care of the problem, not Brennan. I protected Rowan tonight, not his filthy, shady-ass pimp. But I don’t know these guys, and openly sharing my profession isn’t smart.
Besides, the shady pimp in question agreed to lend me the use of his shady hackers to try to pin down the person who took out the contracts against Rowan. Guess the son of a bitch deserves some of the credit. Emphasis on some.
Rowan opens and closes his mouth a few times, making me think I might have to jump in and say something, but all he does is mumble a quiet “Thanks.”
Adam gestures to a room. “You guys are in here. Get some rest. You’re coming to brunch at Gil’s tomorrow, right?”
For the first time all night, Rowan brightens. “I forgot tomorrow’s Sunday.”
I’m less excited about this news, however. “Is that brunch here, by any chance?”
Adam shakes his head. “On Sundays, we have someone come in to serve breakfast for the guests. Most of Brennan’s escorts meet at a spot downtown. We still go, even though we don’t work for him anymore. It’s a good time. Breakfast burritos. Fluffy pancakes. Bottomless mimosas. You’re welcome to join.”
Already I’m shaking my head. “People are looking for you,” I remind Rowan. “It’s not safe.”
But hell, the way his face falls makes my chest collapse.
“Please? It’s really fun. There’s a pool right now I wanted to put a couple of dollars on. One of the former escorts, we think his brother’s seeing someone, but he won’t tell us who and—”
“Rowan.” My tone holds a clear warning. “You’re talking about risking your safety so you can take part in a telenovela.”
“Fuck you. I’ve been looking forward to this. And I’ve never gotten to try a mimosa before. I wasn’t old enough until last week.”
Shivers dance across the backs of my arms. “You turned twenty-one last week?”
He nods earnestly.
Wait. “Didn’t you say you were with your ex for four years?”
He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh. Yeah. So?”
