by Lynn Hagen
“I was checking you out in there.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets and gave Stevie an amazing grin. The guy was tall, sleek, and had stylishly cut blond hair. He also had pretty green eyes. He wasn’t what Stevie would consider a knockout, but Stevie had two weeks to get fucked by whomever he wanted.
After that he had to be selective as hell. Stevie had to make sure none of his bed partners were panthers because nobody was putting a bun in his oven.
“You were checking me out?” Stevie had been so busy staring at Quinn all night that he hadn’t paid attention to anyone else. “Why?”
The stranger’s grin was sinful. “I wanted to get to know you better, maybe even attempt to wipe that scowl off your face.”
“I was scowling?” Stevie hadn’t realized he’d been doing that.
The guy stuck out his hand. “I’m Neal.”
“Stevie.” He shook Neal’s hand. “I haven’t seen you around town.”
“That’s because I’m new here,” he said. “I just moved to Kendall a week ago. I’m trying to get the feel of the town and get to know the residents.”
And get laid, although he hadn’t said that part out loud. Why else would he have run out of the pub to catch up with Stevie?
“For now you can walk me to my car.” He wasn’t going to completely dismiss Neal, but he wasn’t going to fall into the guy’s arms, either.
Stevie might’ve been a slut, but he was a selective slut. Actually he wasn’t a slut at all. That was what Layne used to call him because Stevie dated a lot of guys. But dating didn’t always result in sex.
Especially when the guy-of-the-moment annoyed the crap out of him, which happened often.
Neil pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m a gentleman.”
If you had to declare yourself one, that was a bad sign. Maybe it wasn’t, but Stevie had a jaded view of life. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
“I saw you watching the bartender all night. You guys got a history?”
Neil still had his hands in his pockets, and Stevie feared the guy would trip and wouldn’t be able to catch himself, crashing right on his face. He also wasn’t going to answer Neil about Quinn. That wasn’t any of his business.
“Well, this is me.” They stopped at Stevie’s sedan, giving him an excuse to avoid answering the guy’s nosy question. He could tell Neal was trying to think of something else to say to stop Stevie from leaving. Neal shuffled his feet and looked around. Stevie thought his uncertainty was adorable.
But Neal still wasn’t getting laid.
There weren’t a lot of men—at least the ones Stevie had run into—that were this shy. Neil rubbed the back of his neck and gave a nervous laugh. “I know we just met, like five seconds ago, but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel. Would you mind dropping me off at home?”
Was this guy for real? Sure, he’d entertained the thought of having a one-night stand with Neal. For a split second, at least. Stevie was horny, and hooking up with Quinn had been an epic failure, but he didn’t run off with complete strangers.
“I can order you a ride.” Shockingly, Kendall did have a handful of Uber and Lyft drivers. If you asked Stevie, that was smart. There were a lot of people who lived on the outskirts of town or on farms, and walking to town would’ve been a bitch.
“I couldn’t ask you to spend your money on me,” Neil said. “Besides, I live just a few blocks from here.”
Stevie was suddenly getting the creepy vibe. Neil didn’t appear buzzed. In fact, his green eyes were just a little too focused.
“Thanks for walking me to my car, but I really gotta go.”
“And I was really hoping to do this the easy way.” Neil reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out a small pistol. “Open the fucking car and get in.”
Chapter Two
“What do you want from me?” Stevie clutched his steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. Neil was seated in the passenger seat, his pistol trained on him. That shit felt too surreal. Stevie never had a gun pointed at him before, and he feared it would mysteriously go off and end his life.
Was Neil a rapist? Did rapists hold people at gunpoint? Stevie might’ve had a shitty childhood, but the real world outside his home had never touched him, not violently, and he was shaking badly.
“I see you don’t know about your old man’s addictions.” Neil waved the gun at him. “Let’s drive to your house.”
All Stevie could do was nod. His throat was drying up, and he was seconds away from wetting himself. “Do you mean his drinking?”
Neil snorted. “Among other things, but I was talking about his gambling.”
Gambling? That was news to Stevie. Neither his father nor his mother had ever mentioned that his dad had a gambling problem. Not that Cliff would’ve told him. It kind of made sense, though. They were always broke a day after getting paid. Stevie had always wondered where their money had gone and simply assumed it was on bills and their booze.
“Clifford has gotten into serious debt, and I was sent to collect. Unfortunately your dad’s a deadbeat, so the debt falls on you.”
“Me?” Stevie had shouted the word, his brows residing in his hairline. “I had nothing to do with any of that!”
“Regardless,” Neil said, “I noticed how cozy you are with the O’Brien men, and word is, they inherited quite a bit of money from their aunt. You’re gonna get the fifty grand your dad owes Mr. Bodega, or I’ll shoot your parents and then come after you.”
“The O’Briens are acquaintances,” Stevie insisted. It was true. He hardly knew Nash, even though one of his best friends was shacked up with him.
Quinn? The guy had no interest in Stevie. And even if he had, there was no way Stevie would ask him for fifty grand. Neil had to know that. He’d said cozy, which meant he’d been watching Stevie.
“Stop the car.”
Stevie came to a stop and braced himself, unsure if Neil had decided to kill him now instead of later because Stevie couldn’t produce the money. Stevie was sweating like crazy, clenching his teeth so hard they should’ve shattered.
“You have two weeks.” Neil opened the car door. “Two weeks to do whatever you have to in order to get Mr. Bodega his money, or I’ll wipe out your family lineage.”
Long after Neil was gone Stevie sat there still white-knuckling the steering wheel, staring at the open passenger door, which Neal hadn’t been polite enough to close when he got out.
Fifty thousand dollars. What the fuck had his dad been thinking? Why had Stevie not known about this addiction? There should’ve been signs, right? Something to clue him in. But Stevie had avoided going to their house. He hadn’t stepped foot back in the place in months. And before that, years.
Anytime he’d given his parents money, they’d either come to his house or his job.
Stevie couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He felt trapped with no way out. It was ironic that Neil had threatened to kill Stevie on his birthday, or right around it. He would’ve lived twenty-five years and no more after that.
The car felt suffocating. Stevie couldn’t breathe and started hyperventilating, so he got out and moved to the front of his car. He still couldn’t breathe. This was insane! It felt as though he was detached from the world right now, unable to see beyond his troubles.
That was how he missed the headlights behind him. How he missed the sound of a door opening and closing. Stevie was wound so tight that he screamed when a hand touched his shoulder.
“Whoa!” Quinn threw his hands up and took a step back. “I thought you were some stranded guy. I didn’t even know it was you. I just stopped to see if I can help.”
Quinn wouldn’t want to help Stevie if he knew the trouble he’d just gotten into. Trouble that involved Quinn. What Stevie needed to do was pack his things and skip town. Unfortunately that plan wouldn’t save his parents. Maybe Cliff didn’t deserve to live, but Stevie would be devastated if anything happened to his mother.
S
he might’ve been the worst kind of mother, but she was still his mom.
“I just…needed air.”
“Because there isn’t any air inside your car.” Quinn looked around, scanning the streets. “It’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
“I can handle myself.” Total flipping lie. “Why aren’t you at the pub?”
“Why are you so pale and sweaty?” Now Quinn’s intense gaze was on him.
Stevie didn’t like the way the guy scrutinized him, like Quinn could see into Stevie’s mind and knew just how terrified he was, and also just how much Stevie wanted him.
Stevie looked away.
“I have to go.” Go plan a freaking bank robbery or something, anything to get out of this mess. The only thing that stopped him from considering that option was the fact he didn’t own a ski mask and he would’ve looked horrific in a prison suit.
Also, the idea of wearing recycled underwear made him itch all over.
Quinn’s gaze landed to the open passenger door. “Your company jump ship?”
“What company? I didn’t have any company.” Stevie’s laugh was shrill, and he felt like he was losing his shit. He didn’t deal with pressure very well. Stevie was gonna crack at any second, Quinn would call ambulance, and they would cart him off to the loony bin.
Stevie just had to breathe. One breath at a time. In through the nose and out through the mouth.
“Stevie?” Quinn moved closer. “Stop hyperventilating.”
“I really have to go.” He ran around his car and slammed the passenger door closed. When he raced back to the driver’s side, Quinn was in his way. He gripped Stevie’s upper arms and forced him to stop moving.
“Tell me what’s really going on.”
He wanted to, but this was his mess and he had to figure a way out that didn’t involve the O’Briens, but nothing came to mind. His brain was swamped with images of Neil coming back and waving that pistol at him again, only this time he used it.
Stevie looked up into Quinn’s gorgeous gray eyes. “I’m too young to die.”
“Huh? What’re you talking about? You’re not making any sense.” Quinn let Stevie go and cocked his head to the side.
No, Stevie wasn’t going to break down and tell Quinn what just happened. Quinn didn’t need to know about Cliff, Neil, and the mess Stevie was in. Quinn had a good heart, and Stevie couldn’t…wouldn’t use him.
He dropped his keys, bent to pick them up, and then jumped into his car and took off, leaving Quinn on the street as he rushed home and paced the house. He went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, filling it with vanilla wafers.
At a time like this, Stevie needed a snack.
Sleeping was out of the question. He tried calling his parents several times, but his calls went unanswered.
It was late, but that didn’t mean anything. His folks kept strange hours and should’ve answered. Stevie thought about going over there, but if his dad was drunk, Stevie didn’t want to deal with him.
Stanton staggered out of his room, looking bleary eyed as he stared at Stevie in the living room. “Why’re you making so much noise? I have to work today, and you’re being very inconsiderate.”
A few months ago Stanton and his parents had gotten into a huge fight, and his dad had cut off his money. Now he was a working stiff like the rest of them, refusing to talk things out with his father. Stevie applauded Stanton’s determination to make it on his own, but damn, paying bills around there was getting stressful.
Added stress Stevie really didn’t need at the moment.
He pulled Stanton down onto the couch and told him everything. The longer he talked, the more alert Stanton looked. “Are you flipping kidding me? You need to go to the cops, Stevie. That debt isn’t your responsibility.”
“According to this Neil guy, it is.” Stevie rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Although it was hot out, he felt chilled to the bone. “I don’t have fifty grand, Stanton. Fuck, I don’t even have fifty dollars.”
“What’re you gonna do?” he asked.
“Pull a rabbit out of my ass,” Stevie said. “Hell if I know. But one thing is for sure. I’m not swindling it out of Quinn.”
Of course he’d considered asking Stanton to “borrow” it from his father, but Stevie couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. Stanton was on the outs with his dad, and even if he weren’t, his dad would demand to know why Stanton needed that kind of cash.
Stevie wasn’t getting one of his best friends involved, either. He didn’t need Neil paying Stanton a visit.
He was totally screwed.
* * * *
Had Quinn been seeing things when Stevie had bent over to grab the keys he’d dropped? Had that been a panthera mark on Stevie’s lower back? What were the odds that two men in Kendall had that mark?
For a moment he was too stunned to move. Then it dawned on him that Stevie hadn’t been acting right. He’d said he was too young to die, and Quinn needed to find out what in the hell that meant.
Even if Stevie didn’t have the mark, Quinn wanted to help the guy and protect him if someone was after him.
Not that Quinn considered himself a badass. He was more like an oversized teddy bear. But he had worked at some of the roughest joints as a bouncer, and knocking heads wasn’t unfamiliar to him. Quinn had even won some underground fights for cash, pocketing huge sums of money.
If he had to, he’d knock someone’s head in for Stevie. The little guy didn’t deserve to be picked on or threatened. But first Quinn needed to find out what was going on.
He hopped back into his SUV and headed to Stevie’s house. He knew where it was since Layne had lived there not too long ago. The place was kind of small for four guys—now three since Layne was no longer there.
Quinn pulled to the curb and got out, heading for the door. He used the doorbell, but after a minute of standing there, he suspected that either the bell didn’t work or everyone was asleep. He’d started to walk away when the door was cracked open.
Stevie glanced out, and then his gaze rose higher until they were looking at one another. “Why do you have to be so damn big?”
Quinn smiled and took that as a compliment. He really did like the guy, but he’d kept his distance because he’d wanted to make sure it wasn’t a passing fancy. Quinn didn’t do hookups or one-night stands. When he was interested in a guy, he wanted that forever thing.
Unfortunately nothing ever really panned out for him. His last boyfriend had broken up with him saying Quinn was too much to handle. Whatever the fuck that meant. But Mason had continued to call Quinn, acting as if they were best friends, always inviting Quinn out.
In his opinion, Quinn had dodged a bullet. Mason hadn’t been playing with a full deck of cards, and returning to Kendall when he had saved Quinn from having to deal with Mason any longer.
“You gonna invite me in or make me stand out here?” He gave Stevie his most charming smile. “I know I just showed up unexpectedly, but a cup of coffee would be nice.”
And an explanation on why Stevie had freaked the fuck out.
“Dude, we barely even know each other.” Stevie stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.
“Hey, we worked together on the pub. That makes us family.”
Damn, that wasn’t the right word, yet Quinn had said it twice to Stevie. No way did he look at the guy like family. Stevie was more like a morsel of a treat that Quinn wanted to lick thoroughly.
Gah, he needed to stop thinking like that before he popped a boner and scared Stevie away. The guy seemed delicate, with pretty brown eyes and golden blond hair. He had high cheekbones and supple lips that Quinn wouldn’t mind kissing.
“So what am I now, your cousin?” Stevie folded his arms over his reedy chest.
The look of disappointment made Quinn smile. He knew Stevie had the hots for him, and while Quinn wasn’t trying to string him along, he wanted to get to know the guy first.
“Definitely not
my cousin.” Quinn took a seat on the highest step, hoping Stevie joined him.
A smile tugged at Stevie’s mouth. “So what am I now, your daddy?”
Quinn burst out laughing as Stevie chuckled. “If that’s what you want me to call you.”
“You’re twisted.” Stevie sat next to him. It was good to see the guy smile. “I’m not letting you call me daddy. Maybe papi. I’ve always loved how that sounds.”
“Now who’s the twisted one?” He bumped arms with Stevie. “How about you just call me Quinn?”
“How about you call me big papa?”
Quinn wrinkled his nose. “Not a chance.”
“Can I call you Hercules?”
“Not unless you give me his powers,” Quinn teased.
Stevie stuck his hands between his knees and gave Quinn the most adorable blush. “You’re no fun. I guess we’ll just call each other by our boring names.”
“Hey.” Quinn pretended offense. “That was my grandfather’s name.”
Stevie’s brows shot up. “I’m so sorry!”
Quinn burst out laughing again. “I’m just fucking with you.”
Stevie shoved at Quinn’s arm. “You’re an ass. You had me feeling bad for saying your granddad’s name was boring, you big oaf.” He looked Quinn up and down. “So why aren’t you at work? You cut out of there pretty early.”
Quinn had no idea. He’d seen Stevie leave, had told himself not to follow, but hadn’t been able to stay away. It was like an unseen hand kept pulling him in Stevie’s direction no matter what either of them were doing.
“Had things to do,” he said. It wouldn’t do him any good to tell the truth and make himself look like a creep.
“Things like looking around for stranded motorists at one in the morning?” Stevie asked.
“Oh my god.” Quinn pressed a hand to his chest. “You busted me. I secretly work for a roadside assistance company. I only work the wee hours of the morning to help keep my disguise.”
Stevie laughed, but Quinn still saw the worry in the guy’s gorgeous brown eyes. He wanted to get to the root of the problem and knew his question would wipe that amazing smile off Stevie’s face.