Chapter 6
Chapter six
A shabby-looking bar by the L-stop screamed Baz’s name. The once white facade had turned gray and fractured. He could barely see through the dirty windows. Fat chance he’d be running into any more ghosts from the past here, which meant it was perfect.
The outside was an appropriate mirror for the ratty inside. The rosewood aesthetic was outdated by at least thirty years, sporting visible scratches. The floor squeaked under his every step. At least the bar seemed well stocked.
A spring pressed through the thick leather of the stool and into Baz’s butt.
“Negroni. Be generous with the gin,” he told the bartender who nodded.
A rerun of a baseball game flickered on the TV above. Not nearly good enough of a distraction from his racing mind, still screaming how could she?
Someone as smart as Eevee should know better than to be this naive. Jack had given them nothing but pain by enforcing his cis-heteronormative ideal of a family, by dragging them to church to ‘cure’ Eevee. And those were the least of his crimes. How could she even consider moving on from that?
The barkeep set the drink down in front of him. A slice of orange was impaled on the side of the glass. Baz tore it off and downed half of the red liquid in one gulp; pure hellfire scorched his throat. At least the bartender listened to him. That made one person.
He dragged a hand down his face. Ruminating about Eevee’s choices would do him no good. He needed to blow off some steam. Preferably in the form of a stranger, gorgeous enough to make him forget—
“Rough day?” A low, velvety voice purred.
Oh, come on.
Baz glanced over his shoulder—and ran straight into Sami Adam’s hazel eyes.
Yes, he had jinxed it, but this was clearly not the gorgeous stranger he had asked for! If there was a god, he hated Baz, because why did Sami look so much better in dark jeans and a lacey, see-through white dress shirt than he did in his suit?
“Are you stalking me?” Baz snarled.
“I could ask you the same. I was here first.”
Remember to check bars for idiots, got it… Too late now.
Baz took a sip of his drink, pointedly kept his eyes on the screen. If he ignored Sami for long enough, he’d leave.
Except that Sami pulled out the barstool next to him, scratching the metal feet over the worn-out wooden floor. The earthy smell of oakmoss mixed with tones of lime punched Baz in the face when Sami took a seat. Baz had to stop himself from taking a deeper breath. Just a cologne, who cared?
“Have you not heard that it’s a slippery slope from drinking alone to alcoholism?” Sami asked.
“Aren’t you alone too?”
“Glad I ran into you, then.” Sami flashed a radiant smile, shining brighter than the old, disgustingly white lights above the bar. A dimple was poking through the stubble on his cheek that, unfortunately, suited him much better than the clean shave.
“What got you so down, Bazzy?”
Why was it so hard for people to call him by his approved nickname?
“None of your business. Sammy.“ He spat it just like Ian had, hoping to be treated to the same onset of annoyance he had spotted on Sami’s face the other day.
Instead, Sami huffed. The movement sent his dark curls dancing.
“Creative. Americans have been butchering my name all my life, you really think that still gets under my skin?”
The way he said Americans sounded othering. What, was that West Coast accent a ruse?
“And where are you from? California?”
“Nowhere I can go back to, trust me.”
“Why? Got a warrant for your arrest waiting?” Who knew to how many states his drug operation had extended.
Sami’s eyebrow jumped up. “Geez. So hostile for no reason.” And yet, he sounded thrilled instead of doing the sensible thing of leaving. “Are you so insecure that you can’t stand a little heat from the opposition? We haven’t even gotten started yet.”
He slid his elbow closer on the bar, resting his chin on his palm. His hazel eyes were sparkling with something Baz refused to let get to him.
“Oh, I can stand the heat all right. What I can’t stand is someone trying to scam people with cancer out of the settlement money that they need for their medical bills.”
Sami had the gall to snort at that. “Like you care about them.”
“You don’t know me.” Apparently, his own sister didn’t either. Trying to persuade him to play happy family with Jack…
“I know your type. I mean, you just represented TechNova Enterprises, famously destroying the environment with their humongous data centers. They need so much water to cool down their servers so their weird AI doesn’t burn it all to a crisp, a nearby town has basically run out. Where are your morals there?”
A tech company needing servers, what a shocker. It wasn’t Baz’s job to judge his client’s business practices. Worrisome that a fellow lawyer didn’t know that. He pitied Sami’s clients.
“I represented them for a breached contract and theft of intellectual property.”
“So when the inevitable happens and they get sued for data theft and environmental destruction, you’ll drop them as clients?”
Oh, please, no lawyer of worth would. Which said a lot about Sami. “Show me one company no one has any ethical objections about.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Sami’s tone was high with mockery that itched under Baz’s skin.
“It’s true!”
“Whatever makes you feel better.”
Baz clenched his dewy glass. What business did Sami have claiming moral high ground when he himself had escaped punishment for his crimes with a shady deal? When he was literally representing the people who’d given the kids cancer?
“So you only believe in people’s rights to a fair trial if you deem them worthy, got it.”
“And you only believe in the presumption of innocence when people pay you.”
That—Sami didn’t get it, and Baz was not in the mood to explain.
“You’re a dick,” he declared instead and sipped his drink. The warm buzz worked away at the knot in his stomach.
“Yeah,” Sami said, perfectly nonchalant. He even smirked. “But at least I’m not pretending to be anything else.”
“Might do you good.”
“You know, I can think of a few other things that would do me better…” Sami’s foot snuck on the metal bar of Baz’s stool. Their knees brushed; a bolt of heat sizzled up Baz’s inner thigh. Sami didn’t withdraw. On the contrary, he traced his knee along the outside of his thigh. Was he… flirting?
That couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly think Baz was into these rude and obtrusive attacks on his character. Actually, he might. That guy was a real piece of work, after all.
Baz had never shied away from work. In fact, he could think of more than a few ways to shut Sami up.
Bending him over the counter or getting him on his knees in the bathroom would be an efficient way of keeping his mouth busy.
Plus, Baz could get all the emotions brewing inside of him out of his system too…
God, Baz was losing his mind. He would not sink to that level of desperation, no matter how well-fitted Sami’s white shirt was, or how pretty his eyes were, or how much of that well-groomed chest hair he teased Baz with.
He pushed Sami’s leg away. If that discouraged Sami, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, his grin widened; his foot immediately returned to Baz’s stool.
“This is fun. Hey, what are you drinking? Any good?”
Baz glared at him. “Go away.”
“I’d peg you as a gin man, so, let me guess. Negroni?”
Did he expect Baz to be impressed by that? He must have overheard the order.
“You have no idea what I like.”
“I know what you don’t like. Me, for example.”
Baz would have given him credit for having a basic level of self-awareness if it weren’t for that toothy grin broadening on Sami’s face. Normally, Baz knew better than to descend into unprofessionalism during an active case, but Sami caught him on a bad day.
“Damn right I don’t.”
“What I don’t know is why. I’m such a ray of sunshine. A pillar of my community.”
“What, with that shiny, lawful past of yours? That’s right, I looked into you.”
Sami’s smile faltered just for a second, but Baz had caught it all right. Did he sense a weakness there? Did Sami have morals after all?
“Oh,” Sami said.
“Yes, oh. I know you cut a deal with the devil to avoid dealing with the consequences of your own actions. Like a coward. Where I’m from, there is a little thing called integrity. Accountability!”
Sami nodded heavily, his lips pursed. “You must be pretty perfect yourself to be this quick to judge me on such surface level facts.”
“Sometimes, scratching the surface is plenty.” The evidence spoke for itself here.
“Except that you miss out on a little thing called context.”
“So you weren’t selling drugs to college kids and had Ian get you off the hook?”
Sami made a face like he was considering that. “Well, no. I suppose that is what I did.”
“Case closed then.” To emphasize his point, Baz took a generous sip of his drink that buzzed inside of him.
Sami’s hand glided over the counter, stopping a breath away from Baz’s. “Are things always this simple for you?”
“I’m rarely wrong.” He had been right about making Aya his mentor. He had been right about being able to handle the TechNova case. Hell, he was right about Jack. He’d be right about Sami too.
The smile returned to Sami’s face, amused rather than mocking. “And I am always happy to be someone’s first.”
Baz wanted to glare at him. His eyes got stuck on that damned dimple, perfectly carved into his flawless skin. Oh, to trace it with his tongue, to feel the scruff of Sami’s beard against his cheek…
Baz swallowed. “First what?”
“First whatever.” Sami’s cold fingers traced along Baz’s wrist, dipped under his shirt. Baz failed to catch the gasp before it escaped, much to Sami’s delight.
“Whatever you want,” Sami added in a low, husky voice that had Baz shivering.
Definitely flirting. But why?
Baz should swat the intruding hand away, should tell him to get lost, but he couldn’t help but wonder where this would go.
“Bold of you to assume I want anything from you,” he said before his brain could authorize the words.
Sami’s hand dropped to Baz’s knee. A lightning bolt chased up his thigh, tantalizing his lower body. His pants grew tight. He suppressed the urge to adjust himself.
“I was kind of hoping you’d reciprocate the offer.”
“First you call me stupid, now you’re hoping to trade favors? You got balls, I’ll give you that.”
The raw melody of Sami’s chuckle made the breath hitch in Baz’s throat. “I do. I’ve been told they’re pretty great, too. Are you into ball games, Baz?”
Was that an offer?
Baz bit his cheek to keep his jaw tightly locked. Whatever this was, he couldn’t fall for it. He couldn’t…
“If it makes it better,” Sami carried on, “I actually called your boss stupid. I called you not up for the job. But don’t worry. You’re not the first to get ahead on good looks alone.”
Sami’s wink lured a laugh out of Baz despite himself. Oh, Sami had no idea.
“Charming. I bet you say that to all your girls.”
Sami’s eyebrows shot up. “Girls? Plural? Wow, thanks for that credit. Not that that’s what I’m after.”
“Which one, girls or credit?”
“That would be telling, and where would be the fun in that?” His tongue traced the red flesh of his lips. His hand snuck higher, drawing figure eights on Baz’s thigh.
This was by far the weirdest way anyone had ever hit on Baz. He had no idea what to make of it—he needed to snap out of it.
This, them, could not happen. Aya would kill him if she found out he jeopardized the case by hooking up with the opposition, not to mention Ian—
Ian. The name froze Baz inside out. Had he put Sami up to this? Was this a trap?
God, that should have been his first thought. He blamed the gin and Sami’s ridiculously beautiful eyes for slowing his brain.
What was the plan here? Was Sami supposed to seduce Baz into giving up their strategy? Make him more amenable for a worse settlement? If so, they really were underestimating him.
He clasped Sami’s wrist to stop the movement.
The you should leave was at the tip of this tongue, but then, Sami turned his hand in the grasp and glided his palm along Baz’s.
His hooded eyes and lascivious gaze held Baz’s common sense hostage.
The brown of his iris was shaped like a star, with specks of green filling the gaps between the six prongs. How the hell was that even possible?
“Yeah. We’ll have fun together,” Sami muttered.
Baz couldn’t find the words to tell him he was wrong.
“Sami,” a female voice said behind them. Only when Sami looked away could Baz do too. A Brown woman stood by the door in a lavender-colored, loose suit. Long, silky black hair framed the young face. A golden septum piercing sparkled under the lights. “You coming?”
“I gotta go.” Sami hopped off the stool. He grabbed Baz’s drink and finished it in one go. A single drop escaped the corner of his mouth, trailing a glistening path down his jaw, over his exposed throat… Baz swallowed.
“Knew you were a gin man.” Sami pumped his eyebrows and slammed the empty glass onto the counter. “Thanks for the delightful company. I’d invite you to come along, but you’d kill the vibe, so enjoy being miserable, I guess.” His fingers trailed along Baz’s shoulder as he walked past.
A breathless chuckle escaped Baz. Unbelievable. That was the only word he had to describe Sami and this whole fucking day. With the last bit of willpower, he delivered a heartfelt “Fuck you” from the bottom of his soul.
Sami smirked over his shoulder. “Keep wishing for it. See what happens.” His voice was a low rumble that sent a hot flash through Baz’s body. Only the delayed effect of alcohol, of course.
Sami fell into the woman’s arms. Her lips moved; whatever she said made him laugh. With his arm around her waist, they walked out.
So she was, what, his girlfriend? That checked out. Anyone who didn’t have any inhibitions about representing evil corporations against cancer patients wouldn’t hesitate to cheat either.
No thanks. Hell would freeze over before Baz fell for Sami-fucking-Adam.