by Cari Z
“Aw, baby,” Devon said with a playful grin that, though not even directed Steven’s way, made him hot under the collar. “I always need you.”
“Not for this you don’t.”
“So, what, you want us to grab him at the club?” Steven asked, not entirely following. “Seems a bit risky, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, I’d rather grab him at his hotel,” Rio said. “But part of this operation is about gathering intel, and knowing what’s going on in that club could be important. I think you two should tail him into the club, report back on what he does there and who he interacts with, but leave him be. We’ll wait for him to pick out a companion for the evening, get him back to his suite and grab him there. We can handle bodyguards, but I want Porter Grey to be happily distracted when we go in after him.”
“How are we getting into the Westin?” Devon asked.
“Let me worry about that part.” Rio checked his watch. “It’s almost three. We should be ready for you to follow Porter into Infinite when he gets there, so that gives us a while to come up with an entrance strategy.”
“I have a great entrance strategy,” Devon said. “It’s called charm.”
Rio looked unimpressed. “Right, because that worked so well for you last time. I don’t trust this place not to have the same sort of fail safes the last one did, especially if it’s the kind of place Porter Gray is comfortable in. You need more than charm to fall back on.”
“Kind of my reason for being here, isn’t it?” Steven reminded them. “Convince the bouncers to let us in?”
“And once you get inside, then what?”
“Um, be careful?”
“No.” Rio shook his head. “Careful isn’t a winning play. You’ve got to be close enough to Porter Gray to see what he’s doing, and that means having a plan to get you into his vicinity while being unremarkable at the same time.”
Devon sighed. “We don’t have time to dredge up perfect covers, Rio, not if we want to get in tonight, not even with Maria’s help.”
“I’ll talk to her about it, see if she can’t dig anything up about the club and the owner, maybe get an idea of their clientele. Where are you staying?” he asked Steven.
“Uh, Best Western. It’s just down the street from the Westin, was a good place for keeping an eye on who came and went.”
“Do they take dogs?”
“I think so.”
“Perfect.” Rio stood up, having demolished both his chowder and the bisque that Devon mostly picked at in record time. “I’m going to get us a room there. Do you have a suit with you, Steven?”
“No.” Why would he need a suit to work?
Rio clearly caught the edge of confusion in his voice, because he looked over at Devon and said, “You explain it to him; I’ve got to get on the phone with Maria. Stay in touch with me, okay? Try to be back around seven so we can talk backgrounds.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Devon replied cheekily, his fingertips dancing along the outer seam of Rio’s jeans. “Any more commands for me, sir?” The way he said that was positively sinful, so rife with seductive innuendo that Steven was a little surprised the laws of the universe didn’t dictate the cambion be on his knees when he took that tone.
“If you’re going to enjoy yourself, be discreet, please. I don’t want to have to come bail either of you out for public indecency.”
“I’m never indecent in public!” Devon protested.
“Two words for you: South Beach.”
“Pfft, that’s Florida, it doesn’t count.”
“The cops thought it counted,” Rio replied, untying Maggie’s leash. “I’ll see you soon.” He set one hand gently on Devon’s shoulder for a moment, making Devon smile, before he turned and walked away. They both watched him go, Steven feeling a little breathless for some reason.
“Yeah, he has that effect on people,” Devon sympathized. “Kind of like working with a force of nature.”
“Something like that,” Steven agreed. When he turned his attention to Devon, the feeling didn’t go away though. “You’re no easier though,” he added. “’S a bit surprising the two of you get along as well as you seem to. I’d think it would be fight after fight.” Because how could two such gigantic personalities possibly coexist without a fatal level of friction? Maybe all the sex dulled the edge.
“Rio and I have different strengths,” was all Devon said. “And one of mine is knowing how to make the right impression. Come with me, grasshopper, and let me educate you in the art…” he paused to smile winsomely. “Of disguise.”
Chapter Eighteen
Steven was a young man with potential, Devon thought. Talented, smart enough to learn, and creative enough to make himself into something unique. The fact that he was three years older than Devon had absolutely no bearing on their relative levels of expertise. When it came to knowing how to look the part, Devon was the king, hands down. Even Rio let Devon pick his suits when the job demanded that he wear one. Now he just had to convince Steven of that.
“No tweed, no herringbone,” he said for what felt like the millionth time. “The fabrics are too heavy and they make you look too old. You’ve already told me that most of the people going into this club are in their twenties and thirties and dressed to the nines, right?”
“Yeah,” Steven said, picking at the collar of his shirt. “You don’t think this is too small?”
“Having no tie means you wear a shirt with a smaller collar. Unless you want to try the ties on again…” he trailed off hopefully, only to have his hopes dashed by Steven’s emphatic head shake. “Then this is what you wear. Now put the jacket on.”
“I feel like a bloody prat,” Steven muttered as he pulled the beautiful dark marled wool jacket up his arms, settling it across his surprisingly broad shoulders with an air of disgust. Devon ignored him and fastened one of the two buttons in the front. “This is way too expensive for what it is, mate.”
“Good clothes are worth any price, and it’s just Calvin Klein, one of the cheaper options here,” Devon said absently. “Besides, you’re not paying for it anyway, so do limit some of your complaints.” He stood back and looked Steven over for a long moment. “You’ll do.” God, he’d more than do, he looked positively edible in that suit. Devon’s groin tightened at the thought of it. It wasn’t that he really needed the sex right now, but he was still on edge, still trembly from his time without touch, and the sex grounded him. Sex with Rio was the best, hands down, but Devon really had done a number on the poor guy. Not to mention practically being given permission…and he knew Steven was interested.
“You don’t think the tats are too much?” Steven asked, and Devon forced his brain back to the issue at hand. Hands…Steven had great hands. Focus, he scolded himself. “Been kicked out of plenty of places for not fitting in with the rest of the décor before,” Steven continued.
“Oh my dear,” Devon said with a smirk, “in this case you’re the customer, not the décor. The tattoos won’t be outweighed by the strength of the suit. In fact, I think they contrast nicely.”
“I’m not used to this sort of thing,” Steven admitted, fooling around with his cuffs now. “I mean, it really won’t matter once we’re inside, right? Blend in, see what we see. Anyone gets too curious and I blank ‘em.”
Devon’s nascent thoughts about seduction flew right out the window when he realized that this was going to be a little more work than he’d thought. He stepped back and put some space between them. “The less you do that, the better,” he said seriously. “Not just for you but for the people around you. I mean, you do get that wiping people’s memories out isn’t a nice thing to do, right? It’s a violation of their privacy, and the fewer people who experience it the less guilty I’ll feel later.”
Still fiddling with his outfit, Steven frowned at the dressing room’s mirror. “But it won’t be you doing the wiping, mate. It’s me, and I don’t have a problem with it so long as it keeps me in the clear. S’not like it hurts them.”
Devon held back a growl. He consciously allowed himself to relax, breathing in deeply. “It’s not a question of how good or how bad it feels. I could get pretty much anyone in this entire building off in under a minute and they’d absolutely love it, but if I don’t have their permission, it’s still wrong. I understand that this is something of an opaque area, especially in a dangerous situation, and god knows I do what I have to do when my life is on the line, but when the circumstances aren’t so vital…personally I like to have consent.”
Steven’s reflection stared back at Devon, green eyes meeting blue. “Bit of a sticking point with you, yeah?” he asked softly.
“I’m afraid so.”
Steven ran one hand through his loose mohawk and chuckled sheepishly. “I get it, I do. Only when we need it, then.” He turned around to face Devon. “But are you sure this bloody thing fits right? It just feels off.”
“The suit fits perfectly,” Devon assured him. “It’s you who’s off.”
“Ooh, easy now.”
“It’s nothing personal; it’s just a posture thing.” Devon put his hands on Steven’s shoulders and pulled them down and back, then tilted his chin up. “Stand straight and the fabric will hang better across your back and shoulders. Start slouching and it’ll bunch again.”
Steven made a face. “Not exactly comfortable either way.”
“Discomfort will help you remember you’re doing it right.”
“I kind of doubt it.”
“It will,” Devon assured him, “you just need a cue. A mental image to help you get into the right position.”
“What, like picturing myself with a pole up my arse?”
Devon snickered. “No. Picture yourself…” What would be easy to remember? When Devon registered the music that just began playing over the store’s speakers, he smiled to himself. It was “The Blue Danube.” Perfect. “Picture yourself waltzing.”
“I can’t waltz.” The implied “obviously” was very heavy in Steven’s voice, but Devon dismissed it.
“It’s an easy dance. Here.” Devon stepped close again, and lifted Steven’s right hand in his left. “Hand up, like this. Rest the other on my shoulder.”
“What?”
Devon ignored the protest and got them into the closed position for the waltz. “No slouching,” he reminded Steven. “You’re supposed to be able to see over my shoulder.” He used the hand on Steven’s lower back to push his hips forward a bit, lengthening his spine. “Feet side by side. Tall and proud.”
“This room can’t be big enough to dance in,” Steven protested, but not too strongly.
“It’s just a simple square step, there’s plenty of room. Swing dancing we might have a problem with, but the waltz?” Devon pulled Steven gently into step, pleased to see that the man’s natural rhythm was pretty good. “The waltz can be danced just about anywhere two people can fit themselves.”
“And you’ve got me playing the bird’s part, don’t you?” Steven sighed, but he held his lovely upright position, and that was all that Devon wanted. They kept dancing, and Devon hummed along to the music, briefly nostalgic. This was one of his dads’ favorite compositions. They listened to all sorts of music but Emile in particular loved classical, and if Ren didn’t he never said anything.
The temptation to pull Steven closer was strong, but that wasn’t what they were doing right now. Right now was about getting ready for the job, and Steven seemed to have the position now pretty well, so reluctantly, Devon let go of him and moved back. “Think you can remember that later?”
“Yeah,” Steven said softly. He looked a little rueful too, but kept the distance. “Sure I can.”
“Good. Then let’s go pay for that and get out of here.” He helped Steven out of the jacket and took each piece as it was removed, folding them so that the suit would look perfect for tonight. Plus he got to see Steven shimmy in and out of his pants, which were just bonus points as far as Devon was concerned.
Steven had tattoos everywhere, from the small of his back all the way up his spine, covering his legs, the tops of his feet and probably even the soles. A crowbar spanned the outside of his right thigh, and there was a set of brass knuckles just above his belly button. Not all of the designs were destructive, and some were so abstract that Devon couldn’t work out what they were for, but it looked like the man had an image for almost everything. A few were so faded they were hard to see, while others looked vivid and fresh. Steven was careful to keep the left side of his body turned away, and Devon knew better than to ask.
“I still don’t get why you’re buying me a suit,” Steven said as they moved toward the front of the store. It was a department store, big but nice enough for what it was. A dozen different fragrances wafted in and out of Devon’s grasp, feminine and lovely, and it made him stop and think for a moment. “I could buy it myself.”
“But then it wouldn’t be something you’d ever wear again,” Devon said, turning and tugging Steven along behind him as he headed for the lingerie section.
“No?”
“No, because you’d associate it with working for Lynlis and you wouldn’t want to put it on, because you don’t like her,” Devon said matter-of-factly, grabbing a black lace bra off the nearest display and holding it up in front of his chest. “What do you think of this one?”
“What—I—why’re we looking at ladies’ knickers?” Steven demanded.
“Contingency plan,” was all Devon said. He wasn’t sure his hunch would amount to anything, but it paid to be prepared. “But come on, give me your opinion.” He waved the bra around again.
Steven rolled his eyes but finally took the question seriously. “Black lace is boring. So’s white. Go bold if you’re gonna go at all.”
“Good idea,” Devon agreed. He looked through the other options in his chest size. Red was obvious, green always made him feel like a hooker, pink was too teenage girl…he finally decided on violet satin, with matching garters and stockings. What Devon really needed to round the look out was shoes…but given that all this shopping was circumstantial at best, since Rio hadn’t called with any information yet, he’d just have to adapt.
Devon paid—actually paid for once, didn’t just use his allure to coax the checkout girl into giving it all to him for free—and let Steven call them a cab. It drove them right past the Westin, and Devon stared up at the top floor, the penthouse apartment where Porter Grey was right now, and wondered if this was going to be it. The moment they’d been working toward.
Tonight they’d catch Grey; tonight they’d bring down one of Safeguard System’s most wanted targets, and after that Devon would finally have the opportunity he’d been waiting for to persuade Rio to skip out on new jobs for a while and take a little vacation with him. Maybe Paris, Devon loved Paris. Or Osaka—his Japanese could really use some work.
They got out at the Best Western. “I’m in 112,” Steven said. “Let me know when you’re done discussin’ your private business and we’ll work out the rest, yeah? Cheers.” He slung the suit bag over his shoulder and headed to his room. Devon winced internally and hoped that Steven at least hung it up once he got inside, and then set about finding the room number that Rio had texted him an hour ago.
Devon stopped for a moment once he got in the door, looking around. It was a hotel room just like the last few they’d lived in together: two beds, banal coloring, an outdated TV on a rickety stand. Rio sat at the head of one bed, his back against the wall, looking down at his computer. Maggie was lying at his feet, although she perked up and bounded over to Devon when he came in. Their duffels were lined up beneath the window, and Rio had filled the tiny closet with Devon’s clothes. All of it was neat, tidy, and comfortable. Even the Sig Sauer on the bedside table was comforting because it was so very Rio.
When Rio looked up from the computer and smiled, Devon couldn’t help the thought that crossed his mind: If this could be my every day, I would be happy. I’d be so happy just with this. He wanted to s
ay it but stopped himself, bent over and pet Maggie instead to help shake off the moment, then came over and sat down on the side of the bed. “Having fun?”
“Learning a few things,” Rio said judiciously. “Not as much as I’d like to know, but we’re on a short time frame, so I’ll adapt. I grabbed a few uniforms that should get us into the hotel without a problem. How was your afternoon?”
“I forced Steven into Calvin Klein and taught him to waltz,” Devon replied.
“Interesting euphemism.”
“It’s not a euphemism, I really did teach him to waltz,” Devon said, a little hurt that Rio doubted him. “I can control myself, you know. Just because I usually don’t with you doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“I know,” Rio assured him. “I know how capable you are, Dev.” He set the computer aside, reached out and pulled Devon over into his lap.
Devon went with a minimum of fussing, although he couldn’t help saying, “Oh, so now I get to sit on you?”
“I’m a fast healer,” Rio said, kissing Devon’s forehead. Even sitting in Rio’s lap, Rio’s head was still higher than Devon’s. “I’m not putting down your control or your abilities, understand? You’re good at what you do, Devon. I respect that.”
“I know,” Devon said, and the thing of it was, he really did know that. He just wanted more than Rio’s respect. “So, I was wondering…” The tips of his fingers trailed across Rio’s broad chest, tapping in time with the slow, steady beat of his heart. Devon had fallen asleep for the past four nights to the sound of that heartbeat, and just feeling its warm pulse calmed him down. “After the job is over, what were you thinking of doing next?”
Rio shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought. I like to focus on what’s immediately at hand, and for right now that’s Porter Grey. Until we’ve got him in custody, I won’t be able to plan anything else.”