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“Because I had no other choice. Someone had to open the shop this morning, Mike. Or did you forget we have a full schedule today and we’re down three men, including you.”
“I, um… I…” Mike didn’t know what else to say. He’d been an impulsive jackass… again.
“Trent will be there soon. Just hurry up and get your ass to the Town Center site so I’m not stuck in Virginia Beach until dark doing the property by myself. It’s my night to cook dinner, and Lisa will have my ass if I don’t,” Manny said before he hung up.
Mike slammed down the receiver and pressed his forehead against the cold concrete beside it. Now he had to look Trent in the eye and explain to his son why he’d been tossed in lockup overnight when all he did was harp on them about keeping their noses clean and staying out of trouble. Maybe once he explained what happened, Trent would understand.
Mike checked his watch for the fifth time in twenty minutes since his cell phone was dead by the time he got his property back. He was released on bond with a summons to appear in circuit court in three and a half months. Wonderful. Most of the judges knew him and had threatened him more than once that they better never see him in their courtroom again. They didn’t like him because he was too slippery, and prosecutors could never secure a single witness that wasn’t too afraid to testify against him in the past. But in this case, Mike was innocent. He was going to have to make sure his client Jim was on his side and provided the surveillance tapes to the prosecutor’s office as soon as his health would allow. Then all the charges should be dropped. He might even have to dip into his savings for a lawyer because he didn’t trust the justice system to give him a fair shake—it never had before.
“Damnit! Where the hell is that boy? I swear—” Before Mike could finish cursing, he saw Trent’s dusty pickup turn into the parking lot. “About fuckin’ time.” Mike was already reaching for the door handle when he noticed it wasn’t Trent behind the wheel; it was his boyfriend, Wood. “What are you doing here?”
“Trent got called into work early, so he asked me to come,” Wood answered with an annoying grin curving one side of his mouth. “You look great, Mike.”
Mike got in and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the dashboard. “I’m glad you like the look of utter fuckin’ disdain, Wood. Now, drive.”
“You’re welcome,” Wood muttered, then put the truck in gear and jerked away from the curb.
“What took you so long?” Mike let his head fall against the headrest, his right temple throbbing. He was so damn angry, he was trying to breathe and not rage, but it was far harder than it sounded.
“I was busy,” Wood scowled.
“Manny called you guys at six this morning. What the hell were you doing?”
“Enjoying my freedom. You were the one in time-out, not me,” Wood chuckled, and Mike just refrained from flinging open Wood’s door and kicking him out onto the highway.
Mike tossed his bag labeled Chesapeake City Jail Inmate Property onto the floorboard when he felt a presence behind him. He whipped his head around, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw it was Rayne in the back seat, looking like a goddamn hot breakfast sandwich.
So fucking delicious.
Which only served to infuriate Mike even more. It was his first time seeing the younger man since he’d run into Wood’s tattoo shop a couple of weeks ago seeking protection and a safe place to crash for a while. Mike still didn’t know why he’d intervened and reacted the way he did that evening or why looking at Rayne now affected him the way it did. He just knew there was something unique about the younger man that tugged at a part of himself he’d long forgotten existed. Mike hadn’t had a reason to go over to Trent and Wood’s place since Rayne moved into the trailer, and he’d been meaning to make one up. But he certainly hadn’t wanted their next encounter to be like this.
“Good morning.” Rayne spoke as if he was whispering and speaking aloud at the same time—silken, relaxed, yet confident, and it blew Mike’s mind.
He tried not to do a full inspection, but his gaze roamed over Rayne’s immaculate physique anyway. He wore black jeans that hugged his thighs and slate-gray designer boots. Mike could only tell they were expensive because he was able to see the name brand on the bright red bottom of the shoe since Rayne was sitting in a casual figure-four position with one ankle propped on his other knee. It was a dangerous way to ride in a car, but Rayne looked so damn smooth Mike doubted anyone would encourage him to sit otherwise. Rayne was leaning against the door, the other half of his back against the seat as if he was purposefully facing Mike to allow him to look his fill. The sensual glint in Rayne’s gray eyes while he watched Mike in return made him feel as transparent as glass.
“You okay over there?” Wood broke the weird silence that was left suspended in the truck after Rayne’s polite “good morning” went unanswered.
Shit. Why am I breathing so hard? Oh yeah, because he was furious. Not because he was feeling anything unusual. “I’m fine,” he rumbled at Wood. “I’m just tired and need to get home. It’s been a long night.”
“I understand.” Wood nodded.
Mike muttered a quick “morning” in return to Rayne that tasted sour in his mouth.
Wood continued to watch him out of the corner of his eyes as he pushed seventy miles per hour down I-64 to take them toward Mike’s small neck of the woods within the vast metropolis that was the seven cities of Hampton Roads. “You wanna talk about it?”
“With you? No.”
“Maybe I can lend an ear. It’s not healthy to hold it inside, Mike. Sometimes talking about it, venting it out, can release the stress of the situation. When you have repressed emotions, you can’t worry about judgment from others. You have to first check in with yourself.” Wood nodded. “Sound good?”
Mike sighed. “Actually, it sounds like someone’s been watching a few too many TED Talks.”
Wood shot him an exasperated look. “I’m just saying I’m here to listen and help if you need it.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have enough initials behind your last name, Wood, to help me understand my shit, but thanks.” He appreciated Wood was trying to be a decent guy and of course stay in his good graces since Mike was basically his father-in-law, but he didn’t want to make himself appear any worse than he already did. Telling the truth about why he was locked up wouldn’t make him look good; he’d just end up sounding stupid and immature.
“I was offering because I give great advice,” Wood said, complimenting himself.
Mike rubbed at the deep creases in the center of his forehead. “Wood, I’m not about to take advice from a guy wearing a wallet chain.”
