“I was glad you came over,” Paulo said after they’d finished the appetizers and waited on the next course.

LC had been surprised, too. He’d been restless for months and prowling the club scene no longer held his interest. Crave was sold and things were moving forward.

Everyone was moving forward and he’d been standing still. At first, there had been a lot to do with the sale of the club and the lofts and the construction of the new apartments he and Damon bought, along with the rest of the building. They were now living on opposite ends of the top floor, and the plan was to renovate and rent the rest of the apartments.

There was still a hell of a lot to do, but LC didn’t feel like handling any of it, especially not last night. No, he’d wanted to handle someone, and his car had pointed in the direction of Paulo’s place almost as if he’d had no control.

But LC knew that was bullshit.

Paulo had barely been able to get out a hello before LC had him pinned, telling Paulo he’d been dreaming about him before he could stop himself. After that, it was a blur of hands and tongues and oh yeahs, and then LC was agreeing to dinner, because he’d just taken the man without so much as a this-is-where-I’ve-been-for-the-past-few-months explanation.

He’d stayed through until the sun came up and straggled back to his new place, and now he was here, next to this man in this dark restaurant, and he’d been turned on from the time Paulo had picked him up.

If he was honest with himself, Paulo was handling him, and LC liked it.

Paulo hadn’t asked him any more about the dreams LC had about him, and for that, LC was grateful. Because this, the tug in the stomach when Paulo looked at him, was new…the first time since Styx, and he knew this man could make him happy, if he allowed it.

He downed the rest of his wine and stood before he told Paulo that. “Headed to the restroom—I’ll be back.”

“I’d join you, but I have a reputation in this place,” Paulo said with a sly smile.

“I’m sure.” LC threaded his way through the back hallway, found the men’s room. He pissed and washed up in the private restroom, wiped his hands on a paper towel, and it was all normal. So normal.

Until the lights went out and shots rang out inside the restaurant and an arm came up across his body, a hand over his mouth, and his natural instinct to fight like hell was quelled with a single breath.

Styx. He’d recognize the man’s scent—his touch—blindfolded. Many a time he’d actually done so, but this situation was a thousand percent different.

“Not a word.” Styx’s voice, rough like gravel. Rougher when he was angry or aroused. His breath was warm and minty—Altoids. The man had always been addicted to them.

Damn, you remembered the oddest things when your ass was on the line. And speaking of asses, his was pressed hard to Styx’s groin…and the man’s arousal was unmistakable. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one affected by the close proximity.

He moved his head and Styx took his hand away.

“Paulo,” he said, and Styx answered, “Your friend’s safe—my associate has him.”

Good, that was good, but Jesus, what was going on here?

He heard the slight snick of a gun’s safety being released and then heavy footsteps. Whoever was coming wasn’t interested in stealth.

Not good.

“Whatever happens, stay put in here. I’ll take care of everything.” Styx barely mouthed the words but LC heard them loud and clear. And then he was left alone in the dark, and yeah, that was the story of his goddamned life with and without Styx, and he listened and waited.

No more shots, but someone had been killed. LC had been around stealth and death long enough in the Army to the point where he could taste the violence. He’d been on the receiving end of it since birth.

Goddammit, LC, shake it off.

And then Styx was back, tugging at him, and LC resisted. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell’s going on out there.”

“There’s trouble. Now shut up and do what I say.”

“I’m so beyond listening to you.”

“You have no idea who and what you’re up against. Come with me,” Styx said, and LC reluctantly followed him into the restaurant’s storeroom, close to the parking lot. And even though it was dark as night inside the restaurant’s back room, LC would know the man, could practically see the dark blond hair, longer than it had been, eyes that never failed to mesmerize him, the hard body and even harder cock that had probed him earlier.

LC knew what he was up against—and he was powerless to stop it. And when he started to edge past Styx, Styx let him go at first and then pushed him hard against the wall by the door.

“Are you with that guy?” he whispered into LC’s neck, and he wanted to tell Styx not to do that.

Instead, he ground out, “His name is Paulo. And now you’re worried about my dating habits?”

“I’m always worried about you.”

“The not calling or writing is a great way to show that.”

“It’s the way it has to be.”

Has to be…not using the past tense meant that’s what would happen after Styx did whatever it was he needed to here. “What, exactly, is happening out there to get the CIA involved?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Right. I don’t have the clearance to be involved in any part of your life.” Never did. Never would. “Let go of me.”

“You can’t leave now.”

“Then you’ll have to arrest me.”

With that, Styx reached up and yanked LC’s arms down and behind his back, and when the cuffs snicked on his wrists, he cursed bitterly. “Where’s Paulo?”

“Safe.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Are you two serious?”

“Why don’t you tell me? You’ve been spying on me for God knows how long.”

“I call it keeping you safe.”