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FIFTEEN
Harry was still pissedoff when they got back to their motel room. They had to walk a distance from the bus stop, which didn’t help, taking back alleys and side streets.
As they got to their door, a woman two rooms up was just leaving. She had a small child, maybe two or three years old, clinging to her leg. Harry tried to smile at the kid, not wanting to scare them, but it only seemed to make things worse. The kid began to cry and the mother picked them up, but they stared in the way kids do, so Harry tried waving.
“The fuck are you doing?” Asher whispered, unlocking the door.
“Trying not to scare the kid.” He went in and threw the bag of clothes on the bed.
“Christ. You’ll give her nightmares.”
“How come you can do it?”
“Because I’m not an angry man-mountain.”
Harry growled at him. “Fuck you.” He wasn’t in the mood for stupid jokes now. They’d been spotted; their location was compromised and there would no doubt be a swarm of contract hitmen heading to Muscat this very second. “We need to leave.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere. We should have kept the car.”
Asher stared with disbelief. “It was stolen. From four Yemeni wannabe extortionists that you shot dead. And then we crossed the border illegally. Remember?”
Harry glared at him. “So we just stay here? And wait?”
“Yes.” Asher shook his head and took his phone out, thumbed into the contacts, and hit Call. Harry assumed he was calling Four. His precious fucking Four. “Please tell me you have something? We’re going to be having some uninvited guests arriving soon. … No, we were spotted less than an hour ago. We’re back in our room but Harry’s nervous...”
“I’m not nervous,” Harry interjected. “We’re sitting fucking ducks.”
Asher stared at him. “Sitting fucking ducks. What does that even mean. Who is fucking ducks? What kind of fucked-up person does that?”
Harry sighed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He needed to calm down...
Actually, he needed to do a lot of things, and the first was emotionally removing himself from this entire situation.
He was an idiot for allowing himself to feel anything for Asher. It served only to compromise him and put himself in danger. He’d survived the last decade just fine without him. Without anyone. And he was now, what? Wishing to have a ‘normal life’ with Asher? Playing house, watching TV, cooking dinners, being lovers...
Boyfriends?
For fuck’s sake.
Harry had gone and lost his damn mind.
He opened the door, probably a little too forcefully, making Asher glance his way. He was still talking on the phone, but he eyed Harry from head to foot. “Okay,” he said into the phone. “Tomorrow night. Got it. … Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I can think of something we can do without leaving this motel room until then. Talk soon.”
He clicked off the call and smirked at Harry. “You know, I do love it when you’re angry. It turns me on.”
“Don’t start.”
He smiled, his tongue wetting the corner of his mouth. “And we did buy lube this morning.” He ran his hand down to cup his balls. “Even though I prefer it when you use mine.”
Christ.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Asher.”
He got off the bed and went to the bag of grocery items on the table. “Four thinks he’s got a way out for us tomorrow night.” He rummaged through the bag and triumphantly produced a small bottle of personal lubricant. “Probably not great, but personally, I’m surprised they stocked it at all.” He threw it on the bed. “And we have a lot of time to fill in.” He unbuttoned his jeans, his dark gaze piercing Harry. “You still angry? Pissed off? Wanna pummel something, Harry? You know I like it when you’re rough with me.”
“Asher, don’t,” Harry whispered, trying again to maintain his composure.
