If It Fornicates (Market Garden, #4)

Behind the alpha was the sleaze. Probably worked in sales, by the looks of him. He sized everyone up like Nick was sizing him up, but at least Nick had the decency to keep his assessments off his face. No wrinkled nose, no eye-rolling, no twist of the lips, and most definitely no phony, shit-eating grin when he saw something he liked.

Oh, don’t even look at me like that, Slick. Nick arched his eyebrow as they held eye contact from across the room. Much to his satisfaction, the sleaze quickly looked away, shifting his attention to the drinks that were appearing in front of the money-waving alpha. He chanced another glance at Nick, and Nick smirked. Think you can handle this?

Didn’t think so.

One in every crowd.

Which left . . .

The third guy hung back in the shadows, eyes darting around the room. Probably his first time in a place like this. Most guys didn’t look quite so scared out of their minds if they’d been here before.

Sleazeball handed the timid guy two drinks, and made a sharp gesture towards the thinly crowded lounge. Timid Guy nodded, and started towards the booths and tables.

Well. Someone was accustomed to being told what to do.

Nick waited until the guy had found a seat at a booth, and then he made his move. He slid in next to the guy, who willingly moved in further without a hint of protest. He even quickly scooted his drink along. Only then did he really look at Nick, and Nick raised an eyebrow in invitation.

The guy lifted a hand off the table. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Nick fixed him with a long stare. “First time here?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess it shows.”

Just a little. “Love that tie.” Nick reached over, bored already, and he didn’t even know why. Too easy. Too timid. Maybe not even his type. But no. He’d fucked dozens of this type. They were uncomplicated. Easy money. Not too hard on the eyes. Usually easy enough to blow their minds, take their cash, and walk before midnight. He took the tie, pretending he was feeling the fabric, but grabbed it high up, pulling the man a bit forward. No protest. That pretty much sealed it.

“We could sort out a quick escape before your friends show up.” Not unlikely the alpha would raise some issues when he tried to separate the weakest from the herd, as it were. That type of guy liked having an audience, and testosterone tended to demand he score first.

“You . . . work here? I mean, you do, right? What . . . are you offering?”

Nick grinned. “Pain, if you want it. Either from fucking you hard, or I could bring some toys to play with.”

The guy cleared his throat. “Should I, um . . .” He looked at Nick’s glass, which was nearly empty. “Should I get you a drink?”

“If you’d like,” Nick said, still grinning.

“Uh, what are you drinking?”

“Cola. Nothing alcoholic.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Nick stood to let the guy get up, and chuckled to himself as the church mouse hurried back to the bar. He sat back down while he waited, and kept half an eye on the other two guys at the bar. Looked like they were arguing with Raoul over the preparation of a cocktail. Not a pair Nick wanted to deal with tonight. Especially if they brought their chest-puffing crap over here and tried to elbow their way in. Maybe pry him away from their friend, or talk him into some kind of ménage situation.

That thought exhausted him. He could barely muster the enthusiasm to face an evening of entertaining the church mouse. As he turned back to watch said church mouse, who was still at the bar, Nick couldn’t help feeling downright tired. Not even a little into this.

He looked around, keenly thrown off his game. He was bored. He didn’t feel the electric current, that buzz that fuelled him when he needed it. And fucking a guy in that sort of ennui wasn’t going to happen. Dominating him—especially with pain involved—was a bad idea when Nick couldn’t focus, and he wasn’t even sure he could muster the enthusiasm to fuck him well enough to earn his pay.

Talk about buzz. His trouser pocket buzzed, so he surreptitiously pulled out the phone. Just a text.

But a text from Spencer was never just any fucking text.

Thinking of you has never been this uncomfortable.

Likewise, Nick thought, but for very different reasons.

But he’d had nights like this before. Everyone did. Didn’t mean he was off the hook for satisfying his clients and earning his keep. Especially since nights like this had been happening all too frequently lately.

He slid his phone back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and schooled his face into something that balanced devilishness with flirtation as the church mouse returned with a fresh cola. “Thank you.”

He got up to let the john sit, then sat beside him. “So tell me, what is it you’re looking for?”

The church mouse gulped. “I . . .” His eyes darted towards his friends. Then he picked up his drink and inhaled almost a third of it in a single gulp. He grimaced—Raoul always made them good and strong—and then pushed the glass away. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

Nick gestured towards Alpha and Sleaze. “Their idea?”

Some colour crept into the church mouse’s cheeks, and he nodded sheepishly.