by A. R. Barley
Luke recognized more than a few faces among the crowd: men he’d danced with on other nights, men he’d done more than dance with.
He took another sip of his drink and watched the door of the club, waiting. It didn’t take long. Dante must have decided to get there early too.
Luke drank in shiny black motorcycle boots, dark jeans that fit Dante’s long legs just right, and a black tank top that set off muscular biceps to perfection. With Dante’s shaved head—and the swirling black stripes of his tattoo curled around his collar bone—the look was pure predator, like a great white shark or a savage tiger.
Definitely a man-eater.
“Damn,” the bartender said. “No wonder you were waiting. He’s drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, I wouldn’t want to run into him in a dark alley but I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”
Dante stepped to the side to make room for a medium-sized blond. Finn. Luke frowned. He hadn’t realized the other police officer was coming. It made sense. They were partners. Finn was assisting with the investigation. None of that eased the knot low in his gut.
“And he’s brought a friend. Asshole.” He leaned forward close enough for Luke to scent the lemon on his fingertips from where he’d been slicing garnish. “If things are that complicated, maybe we can dance later? I can convince you to give me your phone number.”
“Maybe.” His grip tightened on the tumbler. He took a long swallow. “When’s your next break?”
“An hour.” He sighed. “Maybe an hour and a half.”
“I’ll still be here.” He considered for a long minute. “You got a name?”
“Tommy.” The kid flushed.
“I’ll see you in an hour, Tommy.” Luke passed the empty glass back across the bar. “Maybe an hour and a half.”
He wiped his hands on his skintight jeans and strode across the floor. Unlike Dante his chosen look was less king-of-the-jungle and more club-rat. His boots were stylish with a half-inch heel perfect for dancing. His shirt was sleek and shiny, steel gray when he was standing still and green when he moved. He’d rimmed his eyes with black liner and there were two different types of product in his hair.
He looked good.
Finn spotted him first, nudging Dante in the side with his elbow. Dante didn’t like that. The tension in his shoulders was clear all the way across the room. They exchanged a few quiet words. Even with Finn’s direction it took Dante a moment to pick Luke out among the crowd.
Dante’s blink of surprise sent a shiver down Luke’s spine. This was strictly business, he tried to remind himself, but Dante was making it damn hard to remember with his mouth open in a stunned little half smile. He took a long step forward and bumped awkwardly into a canoodling couple. The impact made him jump back like a cat dunked in a bucket of water. His entire body rippled.
Luke bit back a laugh. He didn’t look that good. Still, part of him wanted to preen under the attention and strut forward. He put an extra little something into his walk.
By the time he was standing in front of them, Finn’s tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth. Luke couldn’t care less. Not when Dante’s mismatched eyes were staring at him, full of pain and want and need.
Fire erupted down Luke’s spine. Where the hell had that come from?
All the years he’d spent making moon eyes in Dante’s direction, this was the first time he’d seen the other man look back with anything more than mild affection. The expression on his face now was one of pure uncontrollable lust.
Luke’s ribs tightened. His lungs no longer held air. His heart exploded in his chest.
It was like staring directly into the abyss and seeing something wink in the darkness.
It was primal.
Dante broke the connection first, shaking his head. “You’ve been here long?”
“I’ve gotten some two-stepping in.”
“You dance too? Talk about unfair.” Finn flushed. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’ve just got two left feet.”
“Must be hard to find shoes.” Luke was still concentrating on Dante. His foster brother’s face was now blank, his emotions locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Which didn’t change what Luke had seen—or his very physical reaction.
His pants were tighter than they’d been when he pulled them on at the beginning of the night. He was glad he’d chosen jeans. At least the thick denim did something to hide his burgeoning erection, even if the end result would be zipper marks imprinted on his dick when he peeled them off for the night. Hopefully the damage wasn’t permanent.
He shifted back on his heels and thought calming thoughts: nuns, puppies, the Mets in the playoffs.
That one did the trick.
“You want to get a drink first? It might help you relax, blend in a little bit.”
“Don’t worry,” Dante said. “I’m not going to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
“Two things.” Luke held up two fingers to get his point across. “One, this isn’t one of your damn undercover assignments. If the night ends with you bloody and broken in the hospital, I’m going to be pissed. Two, these guys aren’t my friends. Alex is a friend. Troy is a friend. The guys I know here are acquaintances and fuck buddies.”
“Fuck buddies.” Dante’s disapproval was clear in the tone of his voice and the wrinkle between his eyes. “Can’t you just say boyfriends?”
“If I met them here they never made it to boyfriend status.”
Dante didn’t look pleased by that pronouncement, but he didn’t say a word. It wasn’t his place. They weren’t friends or lovers. They might be family, but this was strictly business. “You should be more careful. You could have been hurt.”
“Thanks.” The liquor was beginning to burn its way through his body. Luke had a smile on his lips and a promise of a dance partner for later. He didn’t need cautious words of advice from Dante. He was fine. “I can take care of myself.” He rolled his shoulders for emphasis, flexing hard-won muscle. That earned him a blink of appreciation from Finn.
Dante blinked too.
Luke needed another drink. Later. He shoved the impulse down and turned to look at the dance floor and name faces in the crowd. “Trevor, James. Rico, Antoine, Scarlet.” Not all of them would be useful. James was a Wall Street warrior with a hard-on for club music, but he spent more time sipping scotch and seducing college students from NYU to pick up on any gossip. Antoine always spent more time dancing than talking. Still... “They’ll answer any questions we have.”
Dante frowned. “Out of the goodness of their hearts?”
“Something like that.” A million different scenarios worked out inside his head. “Let’s start with Scarlet.”
“Is that his real name?”
“It’s Will something.” He flushed. “I never got a last name. He’s an artist. He makes jewelry for Upper East Side biddies.” He grinned. “You two find somewhere to loom where you’re not so conspicuous, and I’ll go snag him.”
Separating Scarlet from the crowd took more effort than Luke intended. By the time he’d convinced him to talk, Dante and Finn had commandeered a small round table and were leaning against it. They each had a drink in front of them but neither of them were taking a sip.
Luke picked up Finn’s tall drink and sniffed, something overly sweet with a mix of liquors. A Seabreeze or maybe a Long Island Iced Tea. Yuck. He frowned. “Don’t want to drink on duty?”
“Technically, we’re not on duty.” Finn reclaimed his glass and took a long sip.
Sassy. Luke picked up Dante’s squat tumbler. This time the scent was familiar. Tequila. Good stuff. “Aren’t you a whiskey man?”
“I’ll drink whatever gets the job done. That’s for you.” Dante offered a hand to Scarlet. “Dante Green. Did Luke tell you why he wanted to talk?”
“Nope.” Scarlet was big, six foot five with
out his shoes on. He had a bright smile and a line of scripture tattooed over his knuckles. There were other tattoos too. Luke had spent an extremely enjoyable evening examining them all. They were hot.
Now, the sight of the frayed script left him indifferent.
Dante explained that they were looking for someone who’d been attacked recently, mugged or beaten in an alley. Scarlet didn’t know anything about it, but he promised to put the word out.
Next up was Trevor followed quickly by Antoine. The former was lean and lanky. He’d stumbled into a tattoo shop on a drunken college dare and ended up with a generic Celtic knot on one biceps. The latter was small with tidy black curls. He had swallows inked across his throat. Their wings fluttered with every word he’d said.
Trevor didn’t know anything, but Antoine had heard of a pair of men getting mugged near Greenwich Village. For a moment everyone was excited, until they realized he was talking about one of the couples who’d filed a report. “You’ve got a type,” Finn observed as Antoine scooted back onto the dance floor.
Dante frowned. “They’re nothing alike.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” The detective was grinning like an idiot. He winked at Luke. “Want me to show you my tattoos?”
The squeaky-clean detective had ink? Interesting. Luke gave him a quick once-over but couldn’t spot a single line through his crisp button-down. He could ask Finn where it was hidden, but that would mean admitting that he was right. Not a chance in hell. “I’ve been attracted to plenty of guys who don’t have tattoos. It’s not a requirement.”
“But it doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Luke jammed his middle finger toward the ceiling. Across the crowded room he spotted a familiar smiling face. “You can interview the next one yourself,” he told Dante and Finn. “Rico likes gin and tonics.”
“You’ve got something better to do?” Dante asked.
“Damn straight.” Luke slammed back the last of the tequila Dante had bought him and put the glass down on the table. Tommy was finally on break and it was time to dance.
Luke took his time crossing the dance floor, throwing a bit of spice into his walk. “Very nice.” Tommy grinned. “You do that for me or for Mr. Complicated?”
“Does it matter?” Luke glanced over his shoulder to where Dante was glaring in his direction.
Fuck him.
A new song was starting. His body began to swing and sway. When Tommy stepped up against him, Luke took the moment to enjoy the other man’s closeness. If he shut his eyes, the bartender could be anyone he wanted... Dante. Oh, God, he wanted Dante.
Hot breath pooled against Luke’s neck. A strong hand tightened on his ass. “Open your eyes,” Tommy demanded. “I don’t mind if you’re just doing this to make him jealous, but if you’re dancing with me then you’re dancing with me.”
“It’s—it’s not like that,” Luke stuttered, but it was a reasonable request. He forced his eyes open to look into smiling eyes. They turned slightly and he could see Dante watching him while Finn interviewed Rico. Dante’s body was rigid. His curved kissable lips were pressed together in a ridge. His mismatched eyes narrowed. He stared at Luke like a lion watching a gazelle, waiting to spring on his prey.
And Luke really started to dance.
Tommy made a good partner. He was athletic with a good sense of rhythm. Luke worked him like a stripper pole, but the entire time he kept turning back toward Dante. His foster brother hadn’t moved an inch, but somehow he seemed closer, bigger, poised to explode.
Tommy’s fingers curled into Luke’s waistband, reaching for private real estate. He was trying to get Luke’s attention. Luke frowned. “Did you say something?”
“You’re really hung up on him.”
“It’s not—”
“Then tell me what it is like.” Tommy’s head cocked to the side. “Let me guess. He’s unavailable.”
“Pretty much.”
“Because of the blond?”
“Because he’s straight.”
“If he were straight, he wouldn’t be in here,” Tommy said. “He definitely wouldn’t be staring at you like that.”
“He’s just overprotective.”
“Something I need to be worried about?”
Luke took a deep breath and told him everything, starting with the alley outside of Smoke & Bullets and finishing with their theory that the mugger was getting more violent with every encounter. By the time he was done, they weren’t dancing anymore. They were standing in a small alcove between the dance floor and the bar. “What do you think? Know anyone who’s been hassled lately?”
“I maybe heard something about that.” Tommy frowned. “You don’t dance like a cop.”
“Because I’m not one. I’m a firefighter. My dad’s a cop. My brother—” Luke swallowed hard.
“What about your brother?” Tommy asked.
“None of your fucking business.” Dante bumped hard against Luke’s hip, sending him stumbling. Damn. Air vanished from his lungs. “You were supposed to stay where I could see you.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure we never agreed to that. Dante, I’d like you to meet Tommy. He knows someone who might have been hit by our guy.”
“Maybe,” Tommy corrected. “I maybe heard something.”
Dante’s nostrils flared. “Hell, Luke, he’s just trying to get into your pants.”
“Fuck off.” Tommy shuffled forward. Toe to toe with Dante, he was a few inches shorter and at least fifty pounds lighter. He didn’t blink once. “What kind of asshole do you think I am? I’m not going to lie about something like this. I just don’t know if your guy is the one I heard about.”
“All right,” Dante said. “Tell me about your attacker.”
“Dark hoodie, dark alleys. That part’s the same,” Tommy explained quickly. “But all the guys I heard about were hit within a block of leaving the club.”
“Shit,” Dante said. “That’s in line with what Ryan told me earlier. I’m pretty sure this guy’s hunting nightclubs for specific couples. When they leave, he follows them home.” He raised a hand to wave Finn over. “I’m going to need you to tell my partner exactly what you told me. Then you’re going to tell it again, but you’re going to give him every single detail you can think of and a bunch you don’t even think are important. Understand?”
“Maybe.” Tommy winked at Luke. “What do you think? Is that worth you taking my phone number?”
He looked so damn eager, and he’d been a great dancer. Luke couldn’t help but grin. “Definitely.”
“Nope,” Dante said at the exact same time.
Asshole. Luke pulled his cell phone out. “Give me your phone number,” he told Tommy. He jammed the numbers into the phone then sent a quick text. “Now you’ve got mine too. Call me sometime. We can get a drink.”
“Goddamn it, Luke,” Dante started, then waved his hand dismissively at both of them, his jaw clenched tight. “Let’s get this over with. Then you two lovebirds can do whatever the hell you want.”
It was a nice thought, but by the time Tommy was done telling Finn his story it was time for him to go back on shift. Luke went back to dancing, working the crowd. He told every single one of them the same thing. For most it was just a helpful warning, but a handful knew something that might be useful. They hadn’t been attacked themselves, but they knew stories.
A few hours later Dante finally ordered a drink for himself, a scotch and soda. He’d gulped the last inch down when Luke wandered over to slump against the table. “You done for the night, Twinkle Toes?”
“My feet are aching,” Luke groaned. “I think I danced with every guy in the place.”
“Pretty close.” Finn flipped his notebook closed. “It was totally worth it. We’ve got half a dozen names to track down in the morning. Real leads. With your help, we might actually catch t
his guy.”
“Good to hear.” Luke yawned. It wasn’t just his feet that were aching. His limbs felt heavy. His eyelids were dragging their way downward no matter how much he fought to keep them open, and he still had a long train ride home. Maybe he should just stay in the city.
He followed Finn out onto the street with Dante only one step behind. The air outside was crisp and cold. It woke him up just a little bit. “Either of you going to the subway? After all the warnings I gave everyone, I feel like an idiot walking alone.”
“You going home?” Dante asked.
“Nah. Troy will let me sleep on his couch if I ask nice. Maybe. Probably.” He hadn’t been turned down yet.
“I’m going that direction,” Finn offered. “We can go together.”
“You can stay at my place.” Dante’s tone didn’t allow room for arguments. “We’ll catch a cab the next street over.”
Luke nodded. “One couch is as good as another, and this way I don’t have to worry about waking anybody up.”
“Okay.” Finn’s eyes darted back and forth between Luke and Dante. His lips tipped up into a silent question. He waited a beat then shrugged. “You ever want a recommendation for the police academy, you give me a call.” He darted forward and gave Luke a quick hug. His lips pressed quickly to his cheek. “Or maybe I’ll just call you.”
“We can walk you over—”
“Don’t bother. Anyone asks me for my wallet, I’ll shoot them.”
Dante and Luke watched him until he reached the end of the block. They walked half a block before the first taxi passed them by. The third cab finally stopped to pick them up. Except for a few quiet niceties exchanged with the driver, the ride up to Inwood was silent. Luke’s feet groaned as they climbed the stairs up to Dante’s apartment, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when they’d almost reached their destination.