Chapter 4
Plethora wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Grady suspected.
Of course, the night was young. At least that’s what Henley kept telling him.
Even though Grady wasn’t sure how anyone could consider eleven early, but he wasn’t really the partying type.
If a woman caught his interest, numbers were exchanged, and he had them out of his system by the end of the night.
As far as he was concerned the whole club scene was something a man did in his twenties.
Once he’d hit thirty, Grady refused to be seen as one of those skeevy guys who hung out with people ten years younger, hoping to cling to their youth and alcoholism.
Yep. Grady much preferred going home to an empty apartment to drink like a grown ass man. No witnesses.
As promised, Grady stopped by the hospital on the way.
Shayne had been in and out in under ten minutes.
The happiness shining in the man’s eyes said he’d made those minutes count.
That was good. Shayne deserved something positive in his life.
On the drive across town, Henley and Shayne took turns asking Grady if he really wanted to do this.
They didn’t understand. To be fair, neither did Grady. All he knew was he couldn’t back down.
The instant they stepped inside the club, Henley spotted some people he knew at a table near the stage.
Grady followed in the other man’s footsteps, trying not walk on the backs of his heels as he searched every face, hoping to spot a set of mismatched eyes.
Multi-colored lights dangled from the ceiling, casting their glow across the wooden floors and tables before shining brightly upon the stage, and reminding Grady of every club in the history of ever.
The band was different. Hardcore rock filled the air, but it came from unusual instruments.
There was a guy covered in tattoos playing the cello.
It was awesome. Grady was fascinated. He couldn’t stop watching the man play.
His bow was in shreds and his hands moved almost too fast to see. Truly. It was badass.
Henley drew up short, forcing Grady and Shayne to do the same.
Since it was too loud for conversation, Henley waved him toward an empty seat at the table.
As he claimed the chair, he dipped his chin at the three men already seated around the table.
Two of the men were obviously together. Their chairs were touching, leaving no light between their bodies.
They were opposites in every way. One was blond-haired and blue eyed while the other had dark hair with brown eyes.
It seemed the pair should clash, but they didn’t.
They looked content and at ease with one another.
Grady was willing to bet good money they’d known one another their entire lives.
The brown-haired guy was the first to introduce himself.
Leaning closer, he yelled to be heard over the crowd.
“I’m Maddox.” He held out his hand and Grady accepted.
“Grady.”
Maddox flashed a quick grin before motioning toward the man tucked beneath his arm. “This is Joss.” Grady dipped his chin again, and Joss returned the gesture. Maddox waved toward the opposite end of the table to the man sitting alone. He was in a wheelchair, Grady realized for the first time.
“That’s Austen.”
Everything about the man screamed military.
Grady reached across the table, offering his hand.
“Grady.” The moment the yelled word left his lips, the music fell silent, making his name sound twice as loud as he’d intended.
Laughter shone in the other man’s eyes as he accepted Grady’s outstretched hand.
Grady winced. “I didn’t mean to scream in your face like that.
” Austen released his hand, but was still smiling as he waved away Grady’s discomfort.
“You can blame my husband for that. He’ll be here in a few seconds, racing to my rescue. ”
Confusion tried to rear its head, but as if he’d been waiting for his cue, the red-haired man who’d held Grady captivated with his wicked cello playing, appeared at Austen’s side.
Ignoring everyone else at the table, and proving Austen’s claim, the man kissed Austen before turning his attention their way.
Going by Austen’s smile, the man was biting back his laughter as he introduced the new arrival.
“Finn this is Grady. Grady, this is my husband, Finn.”
Finn eyed him closely as they shook hands. “Are you lost?”
Grady’s eyebrows rose at Finn’s question.
He didn’t think the guy was trying to be rude.
More than anything, it was an odd inquiry.
Grady couldn’t see any difference between himself and the other occupants of the club.
Yet, somehow, Finn knew he didn’t fit the scene.
The spot between his shoulders itched, making him wonder if someone had slapped a “straight” sign on his back as he’d walked through the door.
Henley came to his rescue. “He’s with us. The three of us grew up together,” he added, motioning between Grady, Shayne, and himself.
Shayne nodded. “Best friends since the third grade. Of course, this is the first time we’ve convinced him to come here.”
Finn nodded as he dragged his chair closer to Austen’s. Once he settled in with his arm draped across the back of Austen’s chair, he focused on Grady once more. “And now that you’re here, what do you think of the place?”
The tension in Grady’s shoulders eased at Finn’s question.
While it was obvious Finn was merely making conversation, it went further toward calming Grady’s nerves than any lecture he’d given himself on the drive over here.
It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable as much as he felt out of place. It loosened his tongue.
“I think you’re scary talented. Seriously,” he added when Finn blushed and looked away. “I’ve never seen anyone play the way you do. That was amazing. I’d love to have your skill.”
Henley chuckled, drawing everyone’s gaze his way. “Once when we were teenagers, Grady tried to teach himself how to play guitar because he thought it would impress this chick he was crushing on.”
Heat crept up the back of Grady’s neck at the memory. “It was catastrophic,” he admitted, stealing Henley’s chance to tell everyone exactly how disastrous it had been.
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.” The familiar English accent rolled down Grady’s spine, before circling his stomach, and making him go hard.
Every eye at the table focused on a spot over Grady’s shoulder.
Grady sent up a silent prayer for strength before turning his head and focusing on Ryker.
Fuck me. The smirk hovering on Ryker’s perfect lips made Grady wonder if he’d accidentally spoken aloud.
When no one called him on it, he blew out a sigh of relief.
Ryker’s presence alone was enough to fuck with Grady’s head and then the accent hit him.
Grady was done for. No matter his discomfort, Grady couldn’t stop staring at Ryker’s eyes.
One was green, and the other was blue. That oddity mixed with his perfect angles made it almost impossible for Grady to tear his gaze away.
“You find what hard to believe?” Maddox asked, saving Grady.
For real, he had no fucking clue what they were talking about.
He’s mind had stopped processing signals at the first sight of Ryker.
His mismatched eyes flickered in Maddox’s direction for half a second before focusing on Grady.
“I can’t imagine you being bad at anything, Cop. ”
“It’s Grady,” Grady said, reminding Ryker of his name.
Ryker’s smirk kicked up a notch. His eyes flashed with mischief. “This is the one place on earth, I can honestly say I never expected to run into you,” he paused, flashing a sexy smile, before adding, “Cop.”
Ryker’s devilry fed his. He turned in his chair and focused all of his attention on Ryker. “I heard the scenery here couldn’t be beat. How was I supposed to turn down such a thing?”
Henley fell into a coughing fit beside him.
Ryker’s gaze never faltered from his. “And now that you’ve had time to check out the…scenery?”
Grady couldn’t back down from Ryker’s open challenge.
Dropping his gaze to the floor, Grady focused on Ryker’s biker boots before following the line of his dark jeans upward.
He hated himself for noticing how impressive Ryker’s package looked in those jeans.
The idea caused Grady’s focus to snap back to Ryker’s face.
It wasn’t the safe choice. Ryker’s angles were perfection.
Grady was certain Ryker had made some shady deal with the devil because it was almost unnatural.
His flannel shirt hung open, revealing the white t-shirt beneath.
Grady was having a hard time not staring at the way his shirt clung to every hardened line, dipping in the right places, and highlighting a six-pack most men would kill to have.
The only thing the least bit out of place was the man’s hair.
Ryker’s hair was long, but Grady couldn’t guess at its exact length, since both times they’d met, it had been pulled up into an untidy man bun.
It was ridiculous because even the mess added to his hotness.
Ryker wasn’t smirking any longer. If anything, he appeared thrown off balance by Grady’s inspection.
That made two of them. Grady didn’t have a single fucking clue what was going on inside his head.
Ryker got to him in a way he shouldn’t—in a way no man should.
Even that knowledge couldn’t contain his confession.
“The rumors are all true. I’ve been missing out on all the best…
décor.” He tried keeping his voice bland, hiding the way Ryker’s presence affected him.
This confusion, lust, and awareness of being were emotions Grady didn’t want.
It wouldn’t do anyone any good if they knew how Ryker got under his skin
Oddly, the one emotion Grady felt above all others was rage.
He was more pissed at himself than he’d ever been in his life.
Even if he wasn’t straight, Ryker wasn’t his type, because Ryker was everyone’s type—a hot mess wrapped in beautiful paper.
His anger must’ve shone in his gaze. Ryker took a step back.
“You have great taste in friends,” Ryker said pasting on a fake smile. “For a cop,” he added before disappearing into the crowd. The instant Ryker was gone, Henley broke. “Whoa. What the fuck was that all about?”
Keeping his gaze carefully averted. Grady shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Henley was having none of it. “Dude. Are you going to tell me you weren’t flirting with him? I mean, for pride’s sake, you sort of had too since he started it, but still.”
Everyone was staring at him. He could feel their eyes boring into his skin, waiting for his reaction.
It took work, but Grady arranged his features into some semblance of disbelief.
“Nah. Sounded to me like he was surprised to see me here more than anything else.” He cast a glance around the table, avoiding everyone’s stare.
The tightness in his chest eased as he realized everyone had already lost interest.
Shayne was texting someone—probably the good doctor.
Austen and Finn had their heads together, speaking low enough they couldn’t be overheard.
Maddox and Joss were in their own little world as well.
Going by the flush on Maddox’s cheeks and unfocused stare, Grady imagined Joss was busy describing something blatantly sexual in Maddox’s ear.
The pair most likely wouldn’t last much longer.
Left with no alternative, Grady met Henley’s gaze.
Henley was one of those people who gave off a dark vibe.
Now and then Grady thought he caught a glimpse of something in Henley’s eyes, hinting at thoughts he didn’t want to know.
He was staring at that side of him now. Henley’s brown eyes darkened, seeming almost black, and matching his hair.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. Grady couldn’t figure out what he’d done to piss the other man off, but it was obvious he had done something.
“What?”
Henley didn’t respond right away. For a moment, Grady felt exposed—laid bare. Henley shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”
A snort escaped Grady before he could call it back. “What’s there to understand? You get what you see.”
“Not this time,” Henley shot back. “I’ve known you a long time, and not this time.” A fake smile appeared, wiping away the darkness in his eyes. “But whatever, man. Keep it to yourself. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”
Grady drew in a hiss, feeling Henley’s low blow all the way to his bones. “Damn, Hen, tell me how you really feel.”
Henley looked away, focusing on the crowd. “You first.”
He couldn’t. Henley was right. Not this time. “There’s nothing to tell. Seriously.” A beer appeared in front of him, cutting off his lie. Grady snagged the waitress before she could get away. “I didn’t order that.”
She winked. “It’s from Ryker. He said, if you had a problem with him buying you a drink, to tell you he said, ‘Lighten up, Cop’.
” Flashing him a smile, she turned away, leaving behind the beer and damning him in Henley’s eyes.
As if Grady’s brain meant to prove a point, his gaze landed on Ryker where he leaned against the bar.
Even to himself, Grady refused to admit, he’d never lost sight of him.
Meeting his stare, Ryker’s mouth lifted in one corner.
Lust slammed into Grady with enough force to steal the oxygen from his lungs.
He couldn’t explain it. Throughout his entire life, Grady hadn’t once been attracted to another man.
When he looked at Ryker, he was hypnotized.
Every muscle in his body seized up whenever the man was near as if fighting the temptation to touch him.
Inside his head, Grady was screaming. For the first time in his life, Grady experienced physical pain from wanting something he shouldn’t—someone he couldn’t have.
“Tell me again how nothing is going on,” Henley growled as he pushed his way to his feet.
Grady opened his mouth, intent on defending himself, but Henley disappeared into the crowd of gyrating bodies on the dancefloor before he had a chance.
Grady spent five minutes debating the merits of chasing after him.
In the end, he knew there were no words.
Anything he came up with would be a lie, and they’d been friends too long.
Luckily, Lincoln turned up, still wearing his hospital scrubs.
He gave Grady something else to focus upon, saving him from himself.