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Yet, as always, Indi found himself growing more excited by the moment. The self-loathing didn’t usually start until sex was over and Clay was trying to pretend to care about him on a level other than a fucking job. That’s what he was to Clay and the others…a fucking job…that required fucking.
Fuck.
Indi’s head was spinning.
He’d just dealt with the stupid drug gang and Levi Trace…now he would add Clay to a day of total fuckery. Clay would come in, treat Indi well, fuck him gently, and walk away. Sure, he lost a tiny portion of his soul every time he allowed Clay to lie to him about who he was and then take him to bed. Sadly, Indi knew he would probably keep doing it, making the same mistake, until there was no more of his soul to lose. His nerves continued to buzz from the earlier encounter, from feeling alive for the first time in two years. Something was almost within his reach, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get to it.
He was frustrated. Frustration with nerves buzzing wouldn’t lead to anything good, especially with Clay coming around for his visit. Feeling the need to work off some anxiety, Indi stood up and was about to drop to the floor for some push-ups when he heard Clay punching in the security code to let himself in. Yes, not smart to give your security code to anyone, especially a fake male escort with a lying tongue, but Clay might be many things, but he wouldn’t hurt Indi…at least not physically. Instead of push-ups, Indi turned in the direction of the back door and waited on Clay to come inside. It was the normal little fake dance they did with one another. Once in, Clay slammed the door and activated the alarm again.
Slammed the door? Clay never slammed…anything. Indi had fantasized about the traitor slamming him against a wall, couch, anything, and fucking his brains out. Nope, hadn’t happened.
“Hey, Travis. What’s up?” Indi asked. The vibe in the room felt weird. Yes, it was odd to say the vibe in a room built on lies was weird, but things felt way off. Indi could practically feel the anger rolling off fake Travis. Maybe not anger, but it was definitely testosterone.
Indi heard the rattle of a grocery bag and felt his frustration level move more in the direction of anger. And embarrassment. He’d told his fake escort to not buy him anything. Clay had tried a few times early on but had learned the hard way that Indi associated that with pity and pity didn’t set well with him.
Indi heard the bag of whatever hit the floor. “Oh, I don’t know, Judas. What could possibly be wrong with me?”
Indi didn’t need to see Clay’s face to detect the obnoxious amount of sarcasm he’d laced his response with. Yep, frustration was going away and now barreling toward anger. Indi knew a bit about sarcasm, too. “Who would know what’s wrong with you? Maybe it’s that time of the month? Maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Get a bad client with poor hygiene, perhaps? You tell me…and get that fucking bag of whatever the fuck it is out of my fucking house!” There…a nice mixture of sarcasm and anger. It served him right. Clearly, they were both begging for a fight—one that had been a long time in the making.
Suddenly, fake Clay was up in Indi’s personal space, mere inches away. “What the fuck were you thinking earlier, Judas? Why didn’t you keep walking and leave that shit alone? Look around your neighborhood! Bullshit like that going on shouldn’t shock you because you live in a shitty neighborhood, and you damn well didn’t need to get involved!” Clay swore under his breath after his tirade.
Oh, Clay was very angry. His fake Australian accent had slipped for the merest of seconds. Not many people would have recognized the slip, but it was like a bomb going off in Indi’s head. He would never admit it out loud, but Indi missed the real sound of Clay’s voice.
“Hell, mate. I didn’t mean to say that ‘looking around’ part. It just…damn, it scared me to death when I saw everything go down.” Fake accent firmly back in place.
Clay had watched him fight Leonard’s idiotic druggies? He’d fucking watched another man put a gun to Indi’s head and hadn’t done a damn thing about it? What. The. Fucking. Fuck. I stepped away from him, needing distance. Fake sexy Australian accent because he’d heard me mention one time that I thought Australians had the sexiest accents in the world. Same cologne that Indi had also bragged about loving. Clay was trying to play me so fucking perfect…and I was sick of it. The motherfucker could have watched me die and hadn’t lifted a fucking finger! In a voice as calm as Indi could muster, he said, “Alexa, what time is it?” When she answered, Indi followed up with, “Alexa, what time is my appointment with Travis today?” She answered. Indi couldn’t wait to hear Clay try to talk his way out of his mistake.
