What Chris Wants_The Edge of Honor Series

by Lori Foster

  “Why would he be,” Priss said, “when Matt thinks he’s an errand boy?”

  Dare eyed Molly. “You expect me to fix this?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He looked at Trace. “I suppose we could pay Matt a visit.”

  That made Trace grin, and the look was evil. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

  This time Priss didn’t shove him. She hugged him tight. “Thank you. But Trace, be nice.”

  “I’m always nice.”

  And even Dare had to laugh at that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Matt finished a masterpiece—ombré highlights that glistened on the sleek hair of his thirty-three-year-old client. She looked amazing, and given her gratitude, she knew it was thanks to his magic.

  After tipping him outrageously, she hugged him tightly and went off to set her follow-up appointment.

  Matt turned to head back to his station and tripped over his own feet at the sight of Dare and Trace casually striding through his double front doors. The sensual menace of the men almost caused his heart to pop out of his chest.

  Seven stylists worked for Matt. Each of them had a client in his or her chair. Two women worked the desk. A young man collected towels. A manicurist worked on an older woman, and a pedicurist had just walked a regular out. Five patrons filled the plush seats of the waiting room.

  They all gaped in fascinated awe. And why not? Dare and Trace packed a visceral punch of massive proportions.

  Dare led the way, looking around with casual insouciance. When he pulled off his dark sunglasses, Matt heard a collective inhalation.

  Trace wore that same stony look he always had in Matt’s presence, but he moved through the elite and stylish salon as if he owned it.

  They either didn’t notice, or more likely didn’t care, that the gaze of every occupant had locked on them the second they appeared. No one moved.

  Dare walked right up to Matt. “Nice place.”

  An invisible fist squeezed his windpipe, but Matt managed to strangle out, “Thanks.”

  Trace flattened him with a look. “Got a private room somewhere so we can talk?”

  “I…ah…”

  The two receptionists suddenly appeared, all atwitter, doling out rapid-fire questions to gain attention.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “May I see you to a seat?”

  “We have cola or lemon water or coffee.”

  “If you want to leave me your name, I can—”

  Belatedly, Matt took control. “They’re here to see me.” He shooed the disappointed women away, then gestured toward his office at the back of the building. “This way.”

  Dare bared his teeth in a look that might have been a smile, but Matt just wasn’t sure. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Oh, great. He got one foot in front of the other, but it was like trying to walk calmly ahead of a stalking lion. All around him he felt the avid stares, the heated curiosity of workers and patrons.

  Damn it. He put his head up and forced more confidence into his gait. When he reached the office, he pushed the door open and stepped aside.

  Eyeing the cream-colored walls, the dark hardwood floor, the sleek furniture, Dare went in first. “You have good taste.”

  Trace followed, looked around, and nodded. “High end. I like it.”

  Their approval shouldn’t matter, but Matt felt his ears going hot anyway. “Thank you.” A new worry suddenly hit him, and he closed the door. “Is Chris…?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “Oh.” So then what did they want? “Good.” He escaped to the other side of his desk and took his seat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

  Unfortunately, they got comfortable by looming over him. Granted, they stood on the other side of the desk, but they didn’t sit, and they were both tall and…imposing.

  Dare said, “You care about Chris.”

  Good Lord. Surely that didn’t make him a security threat. “I…yes.”

  “How much?” Trace wanted to know.

  Matt frowned. Intimidating as they might be, his relationship with Chris was private. “Does Chris know you’re here?”

  “No.” Dare propped a hip on the edge of his desk. “But I don’t keep secrets from him, so I’ll tell him.”

  “We wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Okaaaaay.” Matt looked from one to the other. “Why?”

  “You called Chris an errand boy.”

  Wow, and Dare sounded none too happy about that. “He isn’t?”

  “Hell, no,” Trace said.

  “So then…” Did he dare ask? This was his life, his love, his future. He dared. “What would you call him?”

  Without hesitation, Dare said, “The heart and soul of our enterprise.”

  “The pulse.”

  “Invaluable,” Dare added. “A brother, best friend. Irreplaceable.”

  Trace agreed. “Don’t let Chris’s lazy demeanor confuse you. You have a nice shop here.”

  “Salon,” Matt corrected.

  “I can see you do a fair amount of business.”

  “Yes.” Matt all but beamed with pride. “I have a very exclusive clientele.”

  Trace leaned in. “Chris could run this place without breaking a sweat.”

  Matt knew Chris was capable; he didn’t need others to point it out. “Is that so?”

  With a nod, Dare said, “He can run a household at the same time, too.”

  The effusive gushing pushed Matt back in his chair. “You’re saying he runs your business?”

  Both men nodded this time. “And then some.”

  Now or never, Matt decided. He drew in a breath. “And your business is…?”

  Apparently they’d already made up their minds to confide in him. Dare stood and came around to the left side of Matt’s desk. “We operate outside the law, but usually with immunity. We have contacts in law enforcement, but we only coordinate with them when necessary, and when it’s convenient.”

  “We also have far-reaching political connections.” Trace moved in on the right side of the desk. “Connections that come in handy when we need the extra pull.”

  “Or when we want to keep something buried.”

  Buried? That sounded so ominous. They had him caged in, and Matt started to wonder about their specific purpose for the visit.

  Gauging his chances of making an escape, he leaned forward.

  And Dare said, “You will never, under any circumstances, repeat what we’re telling you.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Matt swore.

  Trace took his measure, and must have decided to believe him. “We save lives.”

  Whoa. Matt collapsed back again. “How…” He had to clear his throat. “How does that work, exactly?”

  “Human trafficking has become a very real problem that we’re good at solving.”

  So they were heroes? Fascinating. Matt managed a weak laugh. “This is sort of hilarious, because all this time, I thought maybe you killed people.”

  Neither Dare nor Trace smiled with him. Uh-oh.

  When he cleared his throat this time, he sounded like a dying frog. “Forget I said that.”

  Narrow-eyed with menace, Trace said, “You think scumbag traffickers give up victims without a fight?”

  Dare added, “You think they miraculously stop dealing in flesh just because we free their captives?” His words were all the more deadly for his calm tone.

  If his eyes got any wider, Matt thought they might fall out of his head. “No?”

  That must have been the right answer, because they went back to singing Chris’s praises.

  “Not many men could do everything Chris does in a day.”


  “And even fewer are as ethical as he is.”

  “Don’t let his preference for sloppy clothes fool you. He can handle himself.”

  Matt pushed back his chair and stood. “I know, all right? I didn’t fall in love with him because he’s an obnoxious or inept person.” He paced past Dare, across the room and back again. “Now I understand why I can’t just drop in, and why Chris was so annoyed by that—and no, I won’t ever do that again.”

  “He has to be circumspect in all things, and he has to guard my privacy at all costs.” Dare crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Matt. “I have no idea if that’s what’s holding him up. If it’s not, if Chris plain isn’t interested, then you won’t come back again uninvited.”

  That idea was too repugnant to consider. “He is, I’m sure of it.”

  “If that’s so, if he accepts you, then I have no problem with you coming and going freely.”

  “It’s Chris’s choice.” Trace stepped toward the door. “Feel free to come to dinner tonight.”

  “My place. Six o’clock.” Dare turned to leave too. “You can tell Chris that you know everything. That ought to cut through the confusion. But remember—”

  “I will never breathe a word.” Hand over his heart, Matt said, “I swear.”

  “I was going to say, remember that this is Chris’s decision. Whatever he wants, you will respect his wishes.” Dare paused at the door, glanced at Trace, and together they turned back to face Matt. “Good luck.”

  Matt caught his breath. They wished him luck! “Thank you.”

  After they finally exited his small office, Matt stood there, overwhelmed for several beats of his heart before he got his feet unglued. If this was to be the big night, he wanted to prepare.

  Grabbing up his keys from his desk drawer, he hurried from the room. Luckily he didn’t have any clients waiting; he’d planned to spend the rest of the day going over his books. Aware of all the scandalized whispers from clients and employees alike, he stopped at the reservation desk to announce his departure for the day.

  Everyone in the salon watched him go, their expressions rife with curiosity.

  Especially when he started grinning.

  Finally he’d be able to get a clear-cut answer from Chris. He only hoped it’d be the right answer, because he loved Chris. He wanted a life with him.

  And he seriously never again wanted Dare or Trace to feel the need to visit his salon.

  * * *

  As he did at the beginning of each month, Chris went through the house, filling all the printers with ink and paper, putting fresh toiletries in all the bathrooms, replacing old magazines with new, checking batteries in the smoke detectors and bulbs in all the lamps. He left Dare’s routine messages on his desk, with a calendar of upcoming appointments. Anything important was processed as it came in.

  Like the file Trace had requested, which Chris had handed over that morning.

  The hall clock showed it to be a few minutes before six. Finished for the day, Chris detoured through the house to the backyard, where Dare stood at the grill turning ribs. Shirtless and in trunks, Spencer talked softly to Trace, who wore an unbuttoned shirt over khakis while he pored over papers opened on the patio table.

  Dressed in a rainbow hue of summer colors, Molly, Priss and Arizona clustered on lounge chairs. They had their bare feet up, cool drinks in their hands as they talked quietly.

  Sargie and Tai noticed Chris first, drawing the attention of the others. One by one, they turned to stare at him.

  “What?” He looked down. “Did my shorts turn transparent?”

  Folding his papers, Trace straightened. “Alani and Jackson aren’t coming over. Jackson said the baby kept him up last night.”

  “Selfish bastard,” Chris said without heat. “Guess you’ll all have to do without me for dinner.”

  “Why’s that?” Spencer asked.

  He grinned. “I’m going over to see the baby. Sorry, but between you guys and her, she’ll win every time.”

  Reluctantly, Dare turned to fully face him. “Before you do that, why don’t you see what Matt wants?”

  Chris froze. Damn it. After three beats of utter silence, he let out a breath. “He’s here?”

  “On the dock,” Spencer explained, and he somehow sounded gentle.

  Fuck that. Chris didn’t want anyone to be gentle. What he wanted he couldn’t have, but he’d deal with it. And yet his chest constricted with suffocating emotion…and elation.

  Matt was here.

  He went to the end of the patio, looked down the hill, and there was Matt sitting at the edge of the dock, once again with his pants rolled up and his feet in the water.

  Trying to look unaffected, Chris glanced at Priss. “You invite him here again?”

  “Actually,” Trace said, “Dare and I did.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  Almost in slow motion, Chris turned back to the group. The stares amplified. Exasperation sharpened his tone. “Are you waiting for me to do tricks, or what?”

  Dare took control. He handed the tongs to Spencer and came forward two steps. “If you don’t want Matt around, tell him so. But far as we’re concerned, it’s fine.”

  Fine? What the hell. “Gee, thanks.” Chris shouldered his way through them and started down the hill. What were they up to? Okay, he got it that the wives meddled. They had big hearts and wanted everyone to live in delirious happiness.

  But Dare and Trace?

  As he went past his house, Chris saw the overnight bag sitting by his door and he locked his jaw. With each step along the grassy path, his stomps grew heavier until he fairly rattled the dock when he reached it. Matt jumped up to greet him, and he looked…

  Deliriously happy.

  Leaning in close, Chris spoke low and mean. “What the fuck, Matt? I told you that you couldn’t keep doing this.”

  His tone didn’t daunt Matt one iota. Seeming far too pleased, Matt said, “They told me everything.”

  Chris pulled back. “They, who?”

  “Trace and Dare.” He gazed up the hill and, still smiling, gave a happy wave.

  Chris jerked around, but everyone went conspicuously busy. Eyes narrowed, he turned back to Matt. “Everything, as in what exactly?”

  Matt clasped his shoulder, and his voice softened. “I know what they do. I know what you do. They explained it all, and it makes perfect sense to me.”

  No way. Chris held silent, disbelieving.

  That didn’t dissuade Matt either. “I know they’re big, badass mercenaries who save people from human traffickers and a whole host of other awful situations. I know they can be deadly—literally. I know their work is top secret.” He inhaled. “And I know you’re key to things running smoothly. I’m so honored that they trust me.”

  Again Chris jerked around to look at the others. This time they looked back, as if they’d expected his reaction.

  Dare stood there, hands on his hips. Trace had his arms crossed over his chest. Spencer saluted him with a beer.

  Well. He didn’t know what to say or think.

  Still clasping his shoulder, Matt pulled him back around. Chris saw him swallow hard.

  “I know,” Matt continued, “that they count on you too much for you to ever leave here.”

  Feeling combative without really knowing why, Chris clenched his hands. “I’m here because I want to be.”

  “I understand that, too. It’s a wonderful place. Peaceful and beautiful.” He searched Chris’s face. “I love it here.”

  For so long, Chris had wanted to tell Matt what he contributed. Not to brag, but to…hell, he didn’t know. Maybe to validate his worth. Never before had it mattered enough for him to care what anyone thought.

  But with Matt, he cared. A lot. Even thou
gh he’d fought it, from the very beginning Matt had been different. He glanced back again, and now the women stood with the men, leaning on them, held close.

  And damn it, he could almost feel their collective affection.

  “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled as he mimicked Dare’s stance, fists on his hips, feet braced apart.

  “They value you and love you.” Matt drew in a deep breath, looked at Chris’s mouth, then back to his eyes. “Not as much as I do, but—”

  Taking that like a sucker punch, Chris pulled back. “What?”

  They stood at a similar height, eye to eye, and Matt moved closer still. He obviously didn’t care that everyone watched.

  Hell, he still looked happy.

  “I have something for you.” Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out…dog tags. “They’re personalized.”

  Cautiously, Chris accepted the chain from Matt. Running his thumb over each tag, he read the inscribed names: Chris on one, Matt on the other.

  “They’re perfect for you, right? I’d thought about getting them before, but I wasn’t sure…”

  “Yes,” Chris agreed, admiring the satin stainless steel, the engravings. “They’re perfect.”

  “I picked them up on my way over.” Taking the chain from him, again smiling, Matt hung it around Chris’s neck. “I love you.”

  Chris eyed him, but something tight unfurled inside him, relaxing, going easy and warm. “Since when?”

  “Since…always.”

  He had to point out the obvious. “You thought I was an errand boy.”

  “And I loved you even then.” Before Chris could reply, Matt added, “But…it didn’t make sense to me. I knew you were more important than that. Smarter than that, more capable. I knew you could do or be anything you wanted.”

  Heat crawled up Chris’s neck. What the hell? He hadn’t blushed since he was in middle school. “You’re so full of it,” he blustered, but he liked hearing it all the same.

  Matt beamed at him. “Your friends have accepted me.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Chris rubbed the back of his neck, glanced back again, and this time he saw everyone with sappy smiles on their mugs. He had to laugh. “Stop staring already! I feel like a spectacle.”