Poker Face Read online

  A long silence. “Does the senator have a death wish? Maybe get an adrenaline rush from flirting with disaster?”

  Stone bit back his knee-jerk response to objectively consider the questions. “It’s my professional opinion that the client does not take the threat seriously. At all.”

  “But he called us.”

  “His chief of security called us. Poor dude was probably as frustrated as I am and hoping that writing a fat check might get Lacey’s attention.”

  “What do you suggest I do? Send the senator a letter refusing to accept responsibility for his untimely demise should it occur?”

  “I don’t want the company’s reputation to suffer if something bad happens. Without at least a modicum of cooperation from Lacey, there’s no way to protect him. Not in the venues he’s scheduled to appear in. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Stone. You’re one of my best men. How do the Yanks say it? This is not your first rodeo. If you think this client is unprotectable, I trust your judgment. I’ll contact Senator Lacey and tell him we don’t think we will be able to provide the service he’s contracting us for. I’ll pull you out of there first thing in the morning your time.”

  “Thank you, Pere. I’m sorry.”

  “No need for you to apologize. If the man doesn’t want protection, he doesn’t want protection.”

  Stone disconnected the call, feeling dejected. Failure was not a thing he was accustomed to. In fact, in his line of work, the failure rate was zero or a guy got out of the business.

  “What’s wrong?” Christian asked, materializing beside him.

  “How in the hell do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “It’s like you’re psychic. You know exactly when I’m bugged by something.”

  “Although I’d be happy to take credit for having superpowers, your scowl is visible at twenty paces, Stone. Even the call girls are steering clear of you.”

  Now that Christian mentioned it, the women hadn’t been hitting on him much for the past half hour or so. “Is there something you need from me?” Stone asked in resignation.

  “I came to tell you the principal is going to be ready to leave soon.”

  “In other words, he has extracted all the money he can from working the room and now he wants to go home and screw Chesty?”

  Christian grinned. “Exactly.”

  Stone shook his head in disgust.

  They made their way toward the kitchen and outside to the valet parking area, where Tucker stood beside the SUV, arguing with the valets about how to move other vehicles to let them out. The car shuffle was just finishing up when Jack Lacey came staggering out of the kitchen with a pair of giggling girls draped all over him.

  Christian swore under his breath while Tucker chuckled.

  “What am I missing?” Stone asked.

  “I made a bet with Tucker over whether or not he would hit on the twin Playboy bunnies.”

  “But what about Chesty? She’s in the damned vehicle!”

  “I know,” Christian sighed. “But I’m still out a hundred bucks to Travis.”

  Jack kissed each of the bunnies farewell—with tongue, lots of tongue—and then climbed into the SUV.

  Christian opened the front passenger door. “Front seat or back bench seat?”

  “In other words, view or no view of the sex Olympics?” Stone asked dryly.

  “Bingo.”

  “Front seat.”

  “Bastard,” Christian breathed.

  “You asked.”

  “Damn my good manners, anyway.”

  Stone watched in appreciation as Christian started to lever his long body into the far back of the SUV.

  “Sit up front,” Jack mumbled with Chesty’s tongue planted in his mouth.

  Aww, hell.

  Stone slid across the bench seat to the hump in the middle, his knees parked practically under his chin. Christian climbed in deliciously, uncomfortably close to him and murmured across him to Tucker, “The package is secure.”

  Stone looked back and forth between Tucker and Christian. “You do know that real security details don’t use that kind of language, right? That shit’s only on television.”

  The two men laughed. Christian remarked, “We wondered how long it would take you to complain.”

  “Your boss’s smartassery is rubbing off on you.”

  Christian threw him a horrified look. “Perish the thought.”

  Tucker raised the privacy panel behind them as moans began to emanate from the back seat.

  The drive to the hotel took nearly a half hour in the still-atrocious midnight traffic. Stone abstained from the new bet between Tucker and Christian of whether or not Lacey would have had full carnal knowledge of his companion before they got to the hotel.

  Whether the pair had sex or not, Chesty was more or less clothed and her hair and makeup reasonably intact when Tucker opened the SUV door beside the hotel’s loading dock.

  Interestingly enough, Lacey asked cautiously from inside the vehicle, “Can anyone see us? Are there cameras out here?”

  Now the guy showed caution? Stone scanned the immediate area. Not a single camera was visible to his trained eye. He gave a thumbs-up to Tucker, who said, “We’re clear, sir.”

  For just an instant, Jack looked more disappointed than relieved.

  Weird.

  He wanted to be spotted with Chesty? Surely not.

  They moved inside to where Christian was already holding open a service elevator that was otherwise empty. The others stepped into the conveyance, and Stone moved to the front of the lift, using his body as a living wall. This was territory he knew. They arrived on the twenty-third floor, and he stepped out, clearing the hall. It was deserted.

  Tucker hustled the senator and his giggling girlfriend down the hall to the luxury suite. They disappeared inside, leaving Christian and Stone standing alone in the silent hall.

  “You got a minute?” Stone asked quietly. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Yeah, sure. The children are tucked in bed. I’ve got all night.” His gaze snapped to Stone’s as he realized what he’d said, and suddenly electricity leaped between them.

  Turned-on and dreading what he had to tell Christian, Stone headed for his own suite at the far end of the long hallway. He stepped into the soothing elegance of his room, turned, and caught Christian exhaling a long, hard breath of what looked like relief.

  “I know why I’m relieved to be away from your boss. But why are you?”

  Christian flopped down on one end of the sofa and rubbed his eyes with his right hand. “He’s a nightmare. If only he weren’t the leading proponent in the country for prison reform and didn’t promise to write me a personal recommendation for the prison reform project, I would so be out of here.”

  “How does he stay in office?” Stone asked.

  “He’s so charismatic he could talk a tiger into donating its stripes to him.”

  “And yet, shenanigans like tonight’s ought to tank his career. How does he get away with that?”

  “Because he’s careful only to act like that among other people already acting like that, and I’m that good at covering his tracks.”

  “Then why don’t you let him crash and burn?”

  “Same reason you’ll take a bullet for him. It’s my job. My reputation is based on how well I take care of my employer. And I have other goals beyond him.”

  “Get that other job now.”

  “Easier said than done in the work I want to pursue. The reform project is wildly political and threatens to overturn some long-held sacred cows. I’ll have to go into it with a strong reputation behind me.”

  Stone shrugged. “You won’t know if you’re at that point until you try.”

  Christian answered starkly, “I can’t fail. I refuse to go home in disgrace.”

  Ahh. Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. “Someone back home told you that you’d never make it in the big city?”


  “Something like that.”

  Stone sank down on the other end of the couch, half-turned to face Christian. Their knees were only inches apart. “Where’s home for you?”

  “Rhode Island. Tiny, rich enclave outside of Providence.”

  “Tiny, rich, and conservative?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  That lone cynical syllable held a wealth of meaning. Antigay community. Fake acceptance that masked condescension. Sniggers behind his back. Stereotyping. Oh yes. He knew it well. “Hey. You could have grown up in the South like I did, where they didn’t bother to hide their contempt. When I got bigger than the bullies, stronger and meaner, they just attacked me in gangs.”

  They sat in silence for a while, contemplating the difficult roads that had brought both of them to this place in their lives. Both successes by the standards of the outside world but still fighting their private internal wars.

  At length Christian spoke heavily. “You said you needed to tell me something.”

  “Right. I talked to Peregrine Cardiffe earlier. Wild Cards, Inc. is withdrawing from this job. The senator’s money will be refunded in full. But we cannot take responsibility for Jack Lacey’s life under the circumstances he’s forcing us to work in.”

  Real pain crossed Christian’s face. But whether it was a personal sense of loss or simply misery at having to manage yet another fuckup by his boss, Stone couldn’t tell. He wasn’t a Zen master at reading people like Christian was.

  As the silence drew out, he finally muttered, “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I understand your company’s position. But I wish you would stay.”

  “Why?” he asked bluntly. “I can’t do anything for Lacey. He won’t let me.”

  “Not for him. For me.”

  And there it was again, that intense attraction. The irresistible pull between them. Unlike the last time, when it had been all about lust and sizzle, tonight it was more. Deeper. They had a tiny patch of common ground now. Shared experiences in their past. Hell, he liked Christian.

  “Look, Christian. I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you that I suck at relationships.”

  “Yeah. I got that memo. But God help me, I don’t care. There’s something about you….”

  He knew the wordless frustration Christian felt. He couldn’t explain it either. Something about the big, clean-cut man beside him called to something deep in his gut. They… fit.

  He sighed in genuine regret. “I’m out of here tomorrow. I have to let Tucker know that Wild Cards is pulling out of the job, and I have to get a new assignment from the company. But then I’ll hit the road.”

  “Do you have to go?” Christian asked quietly.

  “Afraid so. If there’s no work for me here, I’ll move on to the next assignment.” He hesitated and then added quietly, “I’m sorry I have to go. I… like you too.”

  “Then I guess we don’t have much time to waste.”

  They stood at the same time and ended up bumping chests and laughing at each other. Christian reached for Stone’s tie while Stone reached for the remote that controlled the room’s various electronics. He turned off the lights, and darkness embraced them.

  “But I like looking at you,” Christian protested.

  “I like looking at you too. But you scare the hell out of me.”

  “What? Why? You’re the big bad bodyguard.”

  “You’re the savvy, classy, put-together congressional aide.”

  “Ahh.” A pause. A low chuckle. “I think I like scaring the big bad bodyguard.”

  “Come here, you.”

  Christian plunged his hands into Stone’s hair, drawing him forward into a hot, openmouthed kiss that actually made Stone groan aloud. Rare was the lover who could match his strength and force of personality. It was sexy as hell.

  While Christian plundered his mouth, Stone reached for the buttons of that perfectly pressed and tailored dress shirt for the muscular torso he knew lay beneath. Ties slithered free and went flying. Buttons popped loose. They stood, never breaking the lock of their mouths, their tongues sparring as they tried to inhale each other. Belts slipped free and thudded to the carpet. Zippers buzzed down in the dark. Slacks and briefs peeled away.

  And then nothing impeded his hands from roaming over Christian’s chiseled physique. His fingers painted a picture in his mind of planes and bulges, filling in details of musculature, prominent veins, cut muscles that had to have taken years to develop.

  “You’re built like an Olympic athlete,” he muttered against Christian’s mouth.

  “Says the pot to the kettle.”

  “I’m a scarred-up old warrior.”

  “Stone, you are not old. And your scars are hot. Tell me how you got each one.”

  “That would take all night.”

  “Lucky for you, I happen to have all night.” Christian backed him up slowly, taking his time edging them both across the living room, into the bedroom, and over to the big, king-sized bed.

  It felt so damned good to be on equal footing with this man. They were physically well matched, but they were mentally even better matched. Christian was no lightweight to be pushed around, and yet he was willing to share the whole alpha-male gig. And shockingly, for this man, so was he. For this man, he could let go of at least one of the reins of control.

  The covers went flying, and a tangle of sheets bound them together as they stretched out side by side, exploring each other’s bodies in the dark. Christian was beautiful in the way of a Greek god. He was masculine as hell, but his perfection of form made Stone’s soul ache. Christian rose onto an elbow beside him, a bright shadow in the darkness of his world.

  He traced the thin scar along Stone’s shoulder with one finger. “What’s this?”

  “Shoulder surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff I got dragging a drug lord clear of a meth-lab explosion.”

  “Why did you save him? Were you his bodyguard?”

  Stone laughed. “No. I was his arresting officer.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Rotting in the basement of a federal prison for life plus about a million years.”

  “Nice.” Christian’s finger traveled down his chest. A short, thick scar about two inches long got stroked lightly next.

  Stone didn’t wait for the question. “Knife wound. Kandahar, Afghanistan. Details are classified. But we couldn’t use guns because of the noise and ended up in hand-to-hand combat. And yes, we got our guy.”

  They’d actually gotten a half-dozen guys that night. Couriers for a high-level group of terrorists who’d been attacking US military bases all over the country. It had been a good bust. A dirty knife had punctured his lung and put him out of action for weeks, though, as medics pumped antibiotics into him to counter the infection he’d picked up. It had been one of his closer calls with death.

  One by one, he cataloged his other scars for Christian, who grew steadily quieter. Enough so that Stone started to get worried. He asked, “Am I freaking you out?”

  “No. A more accurate description would be humbled.”

  “Why? Because I have a compulsion to prove how manly I am that borders on a death wish?”

  A chuckle floated out of the dark. “Some shrink tell you that?”

  “Uncle Sam’s finest.”

  “The shrink obviously wasn’t gay.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I can think of a lot better way for you to prove how manly you are.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m all ears.”

  Christian chuckled quietly. “God, I hope not. I don’t want to make love to a bunch of ears.”

  Make love. Not fuck. Not have sex with. Make love. Something cracked open painfully in his chest.

  “You want to be a real man? Make love to me, Stone Jackson.”

  All of a sudden, at the age of thirty-five, with all the life experience and sexual experience he’d accumulated, he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do next. He confessed reluct
antly, “I’m not sure I know how.”

  “Listen to your gut and go with the flow.”

  That he could do. His belly muscles contracted as Christian traced a path with his mouth down his chest, across the acreage of his stomach, and lower. Oh God. Lower.

  One advantage of a guy making love to another guy was that they knew exactly what felt the best. Christian knew when to squeeze hard and when to back off a little, when to lick suggestively and when to suck a golf ball through a garden hose. The man played his body like a musical instrument, making him groan, then shout, and then nearly sob with pleasure.

  And all the while, that crack in his chest opened wider and wider, breaking apart everything he’d thought he was, shattering his illusions of strength, of control. Of self. In this man’s arms, he was so much more than he’d ever known he could be.

  An urge to return the favor, to break down the walls of Christian’s self-control, rushed over him. And hey, the guy had said to listen to his gut and go with the flow. With a bunching of muscles, he rolled Christian onto his back and returned the favor, exploring Christian’s perfect physique with his mouth, finding his ticklish spots, aka the weaknesses in his armor, inciting a riot, and reveling in the cries he wrung from Christian. He was merciless, spurred on by his own raw vulnerability to lay open his lover emotionally until they were both this exposed.

  Back and forth they went, one driving the other ever closer to the edge and then surging up to return the favor. They were both fit, with stamina to spare.

  It was Christian who finally muttered, “Easy, Stone. There’s no rush. We can take our time and enjoy ourselves. Savor the experience.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m used to grabbing a quickie in between duty periods or on a short leave. I never get more than a day off at a time.”

  “Dude. And you call me a workaholic?” Christian retorted.

  “I’m not working now. My boss should be contacting your boss first thing this morning to inform him that Wild Cards is withdrawing from this detail.”

  “Like I said,” Christian murmured, soothing his tongue up and down Stone’s quivering erection. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Well, not technically. But Christian had a point. They didn’t have to be in a huge hurry. The tension of earlier in the evening gradually fell away under the leisurely onslaught of Christian’s mouth. The guy had an insanely talented tongue and teased responses out of Stone he didn’t know he was capable of. A rolling groan from the back of his throat startled him as he arched into the heat and wet and sweet suction of Christian’s mouth.