Showdown

by Cindy Dees

  “Huh.” Sebastian looked thoughtful. “Should I change up how I walk, then? I wouldn’t have any idea how to do that.”

  Zane waved a breezy hand. “Oh, learning how to walk is easy. I could teach you a world-class runway walk in a few hours. The question is, why would you?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you really want to change yourself to suit them?”

  Sebastian frowned at him.

  Zane frowned back. “Why not be yourself? I happen to find you so irresistibly sexy I can hardly keep my hands off you most of the time.”

  Sebastian looked startled at that. It took a moment for pleasure to replace the surprise, in fact.

  Zane warmed to his topic. “What you think about yourself is what you project to other people. If you think you’re beautiful, others will see you that way. If you think you’re worthless, that’s what people will see when they look at you. If you’re at peace with who you are, other people will be too.”

  “That’s all psychobabble crap,” Sebastian declared. “I am what I am, and they’ll never accept me or like me. Period.”

  “You have possibly the most negative outlook on life of anyone I’ve ever met,” Zane declared.

  “Where I come from, that’s a compliment,” Sebastian responded dryly.

  “I didn’t mean it as one.”

  “Yeah. I got that memo.”

  “As much as I would love to sit here analyzing why you pretend to be such a curmudgeon, I have a job to get to,” Zane announced. Seducing Sebastian would have to wait for later. But then… then he was going to blow this man’s ever-loving mind.

  Chapter Twelve

  SEBASTIAN LOOKED around the chaos of the photo shoot in dismay. The abandoned warehouse it was being staged in, complete with broken windows and an entire missing wall, had upward of a hundred entry points, not to mention more possible hiding spots for a sniper than he could count. It was a bodyguard’s nightmare. The space was cavernous, with blindingly bright light stands illuminating a huge piece of gray canvas hanging from a wall. Dozens of chains hung from the ceiling, and models in various stages of undress hung, tangled in the chains, all sprawled in awkward poses, many of them upside down.

  Rock music blared, a relentless, pounding beat that gave him a headache. Makeup artists painted models with streaks of gray and silver body paint. Photographers shouted at the models to Work it, baby! And raising his voice over all the din, an impossibly young-looking Asian man orchestrated the chaos. Sebastian gathered he was Kato, the actual designer of the clothes being photographed tonight. A dozen people did nothing but scurry around carrying tablet computers, and Sebastian had no idea what any of them did.

  They all looked like children to him, though. Jeez, he felt old all of a sudden. Yet another reason to stay the hell away from Zane. The guy lived in this young, hip, fast world—was an integral part of it—and he emphatically was not. Hell, people had called him an old man before he even left London in his teens. He’d had to grow up early. Fun was not part of his vocabulary. Never had been. He didn’t do young, let alone playful.

  Zane was currently climbing a ladder and then being wrapped in chains. Slowly, carefully, Zane tipped off the ladder, dangling upside down by a chain around his waist and another around one of his legs. It looked freaking precarious, and the gym mats on the floor looked completely inadequate to the task of breaking a fall if one should happen.

  “Give me a smile so I can check the contrast, Zane,” the main photographer called. He made an adjustment to his camera. “Okay, I’m ready. Go for it. Give me torture. Ugly. Weird angles. Postapocalyptic madness. Great. Fabulous. Love the vibe. More sex. Give me dirty. Bondage. Nasty. Oh yeah….”

  Sebastian tuned out the patter. It was all he could do not to rush forward, grab up Zane, and set him safely on his feet. If he slipped out of those chains, he was going to land on the top of his head and break his crazy, stupid, beautiful neck.

  It was close to 2:00 a.m. when the photo shoot wrapped up. Final lines of cocaine and beers were passed around as the designer congratulated everybody on a spectacular shoot. Sebastian did have to admit that some of the test shots he’d glimpsed on computer monitors the photographers used had looked pretty amazing.

  Sebastian sidled up to Zane, clustered with the other models, chatting.

  Zane exclaimed to him, “God, that was an amazing shoot!”

  “It looked as uncomfortable as hell.”

  “Oh, it was. Terrible head rush. But have you seen the prelims? They’re insane.”

  “Prelims as in preliminary pictures?” Sebastian queried.

  Zane started to answer, but just then a female model draped herself over Sebastian and all but climbed him. He cringed a little and looked up in time to catch Zane’s amused expression. Traitor.

  He murmured to the girl as he reached for her arms around his neck, “You flatter me. But I’m old enough to be your—well, let’s go with uncle.”

  She giggled, and he used her distraction to attempt to extricate himself from her possibly high or drunk advances.

  Zane clearly thought the whole situation was hilarious and smirked at him unsympathetically.

  Returning the female hand from his asscheek to its owner, Sebastian said to Zane, “Ready to go?”

  “Been ready. You were the one tangled up with the new girl.”

  “How do you know she’s new?”

  “Experienced models never partake of controlled substances on a shoot. Just because shit’s available doesn’t mean it’s professional to do any of it. That girl’s pretty, but she’ll never go anywhere in this biz.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “Fair.” Then Sebastian asked, “Did you have fun tonight? I couldn’t tell if you were bored hanging up there or homicidal.”

  “We were told to give them no emotions.”

  “Did it hurt hanging in those chains?”

  “Like a bitch,” Zane replied. “Intense shoot, right? My God, I’m famished. But I can’t wait to see the ads. They’re going to cause a sensation.”

  “Yeah. Sure. We need to leave before the crowd thins out.”

  “Why?” Zane asked. “Shoot’s over. Now’s when everyone can professionally let down their hair a little. Have a beer.”

  “Can’t. Working,” Sebastian muttered.

  “Aww, c’mon. Loosen up. Live a little.” Zane did a little bump and grind in front of him. It was sexy as hell. And yes, his breathing sped up more than he liked to admit.

  Sebastian bit out under his breath, “I’m carrying a concealed weapon. It’s illegal for me to consume alcoholic beverages.”

  Zane rolled his eyes and then grinned broadly, leaning into him flirtatiously. “Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

  “Are you stoned?” Sebastian demanded.

  That snapped Zane out of his hyper mood. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t do drugs anymore. I’ve been clean for years.”

  “So you’re just hyped up from the work?” he asked, trying to understand.

  “That, and this is who I am when I’m working.”

  “Fair. I get that. I was just worried that being under the kind of stress you’ve been experiencing and having access to the smorgasbord o’ drugs over there had been too much for you.”

  Zane glanced over at the big table with literal bowls of party drugs sitting on it. “Actually, I’m not the least bit tempted. The job went great without chemical help, and I gotta say, my personal life’s looking up these days.”

  The comment threatened to derail Sebastian’s determination to get Zane out of here at the earliest possible moment and use the crowd for cover. “Good, because we need to go. I need you to come with me,” Sebastian ground out. “Now.”

  “Fine.” Zane sulked as Sebastian hustled him across the big, exposed warehouse and stuffed him into the back seat of a nondescript sedan. “Party pooper,” Zane added for good measure as the car pulled away from the
industrial lot.

  “That’s me, the old party pooper,” Sebastian allowed dryly. “So damned boring keeping you alive. What was I thinking?”

  Zane dropped the hyper model persona, which was a bit startling to see. One minute he was a flaky kid, and the next he was an intelligent and articulate adult. “I’m sorry. I was being an ass back there. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you looking out for me like this. You could’ve dropped my ass when I went behind your back to that meeting, and you didn’t. You’re a good man, Sebastian.”

  “Umm, thanks.” Well, hell. Now he was a little bit embarrassed at how prickly he’d been back there. Had he been more jealous than he’d realized?

  His consideration of that rather unpleasant possibility was interrupted when Zane asked, “What happened to the snazzy town car? I was starting to enjoy being chauffeured around in a bougie limo.”

  “This car won’t be as conspicuous. Harder to follow.”

  “Are we being followed?” Zane blurted in alarm.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Etienne said grimly from the driver’s seat.

  Sebastian leaned back, his knees banging into the seat back in front of him. “This car may look like crap, but it has a police car engine, armored body, run-flat tires, and light-diffusing windows. They make it look like you’re seeing inside the car, but you’re actually not. A camera outside the vehicle can’t snap a picture of us sitting inside it.”

  The last remnants of Zane’s ebullient mood evaporated, and Sebastian felt like shit for puncturing the guy’s balloon. He threw Zane a bone. “You looked great in the photo shoot.”

  A laugh. “If you hang me upside down, nothing can sag. It’s why I took the job.”

  “It looked uncomfortable. Was it?” Sebastian asked curiously.

  “Oh God, yes. Blood rushing to my head, chains digging into my sides. Trying to pose in defiance of gravity while keeping the damned clothes where they’re supposed to be—that was one of the rougher photo shoots I’ve ever done.”

  “I’m relieved that it’s over. I was worried you would slip and break your neck.”

  “Me too,” Zane replied.

  A pause, then Sebastian confessed, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Break your neck.”

  Zane laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t either.”

  The temperature in the back seat climbed a few degrees, and Sebastian had to turn away from the come-hither look Zane was shooting him sidelong. Temptation to reach out and inhale all that crackling energy Zane was throwing off nearly overcame him.

  “We’ve got company, boss,” Etienne injected.

  “Behind us?”

  “Yuppers.”

  Sebastian jolted and turned around to peer out the rear window. He turned sideways, bracing one knee on the floor and his elbow against the seat back, which was awkward and tight, but necessary. “Which vehicle?”

  “Dark SUV about four cars back.”

  “You know what to do.” To Zane, he said, “You might want to brace yourself. This could get rough.”

  Zane grinned. “That’s what they all say.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes and was saved from having to respond by their car abruptly flinging them sideways as it screeched around a corner at high speed at the very last second. He all but ended up lying in Zane’s lap.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t wear a seat belt and have the freedom of movement I need to watch for tails.”

  “No apology necessary. I like having your face in my lap.”

  Etienne snorted, a sound suspiciously like laughter. Chagrined, Sebastian merely pushed upright and tried to brace himself better.

  The next turn threw Zane into his lap; however, he suspected Zane had let himself be flung there intentionally. Zane took his sweet time pushing upright, using Sebastian’s thigh to hoist himself back to vertical. “Mmm. Nice,” Zane murmured as he retreated to neutral territory on his side of the car.

  Sure enough, the SUV turned and wove through traffic behind them, giving itself away.

  Etienne hit the gas, and their car leaped forward, swerving in and out among the other cars. They turned back and forth, wending their way across the city. “They’re making no secret of being back there, boss.”

  “You think there’s another tail?” Sebastian asked quickly.

  “I do. I just haven’t spotted it.”

  “Are they working a rolling box around us?”

  “Possibly.”

  “What’s a rolling box?” Zane interjected.

  “A loose net of several cars, in this case probably five or six of them, that drive parallel to us a block or two offset from this street, possibly a car or two trying to stay in front of us. That way, no matter which direction we turn, one of the cars can quickly and easily get eyes on us. The other cars adjust, and we’re centered up in the box again, until we make another turn. But they never lose us.”

  “Ugh,” Zane grunted as Etienne swerved around a truck, slamming Zane against the passenger door.

  Sebastian asked Etienne, “Are you heading for the nearest ditch point?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Ditch point?” Zane interjected again. “What’s that?”

  “We’ve created a few predetermined spots around the city for ditching tails, paparazzi, and homicidal exes.”

  “You have homicidal exes?” Zane asked in surprise.

  “Not me. But Etienne does.”

  The driver grinned in the rearview mirror. “What can I say? I’m French, and I love the ladies.”

  “So he’s a lothario, in other words?” Zane retorted.

  Sebastian nodded. “Exactly. Serial cheater.”

  “Dude. Not cool,” Zane told Etienne.

  “I can’t help myself. Women, they are an addiction in my blood.”

  Zane shook his head. “I like sex and lots of it, but even I know to ride only one horse in the stable at a time.”

  Sebastian murmured, “I’ve tried for years to tell him that, and it falls on deaf ears. And don’t disturb him. The kind of driving he’s doing right now takes intense concentration.”

  Zane nodded and went quiet. Meanwhile, Sebastian lost sight of the SUV behind a pair of delivery trucks and craned to see around them. Urgently, he made mental lists of the car makes and models behind them, looking for cars he’d seen before to pop up again.

  They drove a few minutes in terse silence. He didn’t speak and let Etienne, an experienced combat driver, do his job without distractions. The SUV showed up again, but it had fallen back, perhaps a block away from them now. Etienne stopped turning and relied solely on speed to put distance between them and their tail. By not turning, he froze the other vehicles in the box on their own streets where they couldn’t help the SUV behind them to keep them in sight.

  Etienne’s tactics were buying them the lead they needed for the ditching tactic to work.

  “How much longer to the garage?” Sebastian asked.

  “Three minutes,” Etienne supplied.

  “Zane, we’re going to pull into a parking garage soon. You and I are going to jump out of the moving car, and Etienne will lead our pursuers away from us while we get out of there on foot.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Shouldn’t the three of us stick together? I thought there was strength in numbers.”

  “There usually is. But in this case, we’re going to divide and conquer our tails. Trust me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Just stick with me and do what I say. Okay?”

  It was a critical moment. If they were going to successfully evade the counterfeiter’s thugs, he had to have Zane’s cooperation. They would have to move fast, and Zane would have to follow his instructions exactly.

  Would Zane’s independent streak rear its ugly head, or would he actually do what Sebastian asked of him quickly and precisely? He got that the guy hated being told what to do. But in this case their safety, possibly their lives, rode on it. Tru
st me, Zane. Just this once.

  He bit out, “When we get to safety, you can ignore me all you want. But right now, I need you to trust me completely and do as I say. Please.”

  Zane stared at him, eyes wide with worry. Eventually he nodded. “I do trust you.”

  Thank God. Maybe they would get away from the counterfeiter’s people after all.

  “Next block, I’ll make the turn,” Etienne announced. “Brace for impact.”

  “Impact?” Zane squawked.

  Sebastian knew what was coming. He and Etienne had practiced this emergency procedure in the past until they’d perfected it. The car turned right into an alley and turned right again, immediately and violently, into a parking garage with a sharp down ramp. The car’s tires left the ground as the vehicle launched itself airborne down the ramp. It slammed down to the concrete and then skidded around the first U-turn into the parking facility. Etienne hit the brakes hard, slamming Sebastian and Zane against the back of the front seat. The car accelerated across this parking level, braked without leaving any more skid marks, and turned again, descending into the bowels of the garage.

  “Egress on my mark,” Etienne announced.

  Sebastian unlocked his door, and Zane copied him. “When Etienne gives the signal, open your door and fall out of the car. Curl into a ball and roll. Get back to your feet as soon as you can and follow me. We’ll be running for a stairwell.”

  To Etienne, he said, “Take it slow. Zane’s never done this before.”

  “Got it,” the Frenchman replied tightly.

  God willing, Zane hadn’t had enough time to overthink what came next or think up any logical reasons not to jump out of a moving car in the middle of a high-speed chase, because Etienne called, “On my mark. Three. Two. One. Go!”

  Sebastian burst from the car, praying Zane had done as he’d been told. He leaped to his feet, looking around desperately in the dimly lit space, and spotted Zane climbing to his feet maybe twenty feet away as well. “This way!”

  Zane sprinted to him, and they darted to the stairwell only a few yards to their left. They dived inside, and once there, Sebastian jammed a thin key into the door lock and twisted it, breaking the key in the lock.