Chapter Seventeen

Scott licked the salt off the wrist of the girl with the chestnut hair before taking his shot of tequila and snatching the slice of lemon from her lips with his teeth. He grinned at Ford, then unbuttoned his blue silk shirt as the four Ice Girls hollered. They were playing cutthroat cricket and Chestnut—Scott was pretty sure her name was April—had closed the seventeen with three darts in one round. Which meant Scott owed her a piece of clothing and had to take a shot. Oh, and a kiss. Things wouldn’t get dirty until someone was naked.

Thankfully, the cameras weren’t allowed in here. So none of them had to behave all respectable. A goddamn relief.

Besides Ford, there were two other guys in the game room. Pischlar and Carter. Scott was fucking shocked that the kid had come along. Even more so to learn that Ramos had told him it was okay. Of course, there was a catch. Carter could play. He could drink and strip. But no touching.

Some kind of fucked-up test? Scott doubted it. More likely, Ramos wanted the boy all worked up for when he got home. Didn’t matter either way. Just left more for Scott, Ford, and Pischlar.

Chestnut smoothed her hands over Scott’s chest, tipping her head back, her glossy red lips parted. He dipped her over his arm, kissing her hard and fast, laughing into her mouth as the men cheered behind him. She gave him a dreamy-eyed look as he straightened her.

“You. Are. Amazing!” She let out a drunken giggle, stumbling back to her friends.

Ford picked up a dart.

“I’m surprised Akira isn’t here!” One of the girls—Rachel?—shouted. The music wasn’t loud, but the girls had stopped using their “inside voices” after the first few shots. “She’s missing all the fun!”

A girl with curly black hair snorted. “Oh, I doubt that. Our potential captain went straight back to their captain’s room after the rehearsal. And with Mason . . .” She sighed. “You just know she’s not missing out on anything.”

The dart Ford threw hit the center of the chalkboard and stuck in the black slate. None of the girls noticed.

“That lucky little bitch!”

“I know! I would so let Mason spank me!”

“Would you?” April cocked her head, sliding over to draw her fingers up and down Pischlar’s arm. “I don’t know if I could get into the kinky stuff.”

Pischlar let out a sharp laugh. “You might want to go snuggle up to Demyan and the Delgado prince then, honey.”

April stared at Pischlar like horns had just ripped through the skin on his forehead. She inched away from him, grabbing the bottle of tequila from her friend.

“Don’t you know anything, April?” Rachel tossed her head, giving April a superior look. “You want to get with a Cobra, you better like kink. The things that happen at that club—”

“Don’t remind me.” April shuddered, then turned to Ford. “You gonna play?”

“Yeah.” Ford threw the next two darts perfectly, closing the next inning. “I think I will.”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Scott studied Ford as the game continued. He was focused, which was good for their team, but something in his eyes had gone hard and cold.

Could mean trouble.

By the time the game was finished, one girl was naked and the other two topless. Carter had fallen asleep on the sofa, and Pischlar had Rachel up against the wall, holding her wrists behind her back and speaking softly in her ear. One of the girls had rushed off to the bathroom, looking a little green.

Ford lit a cigarette, standing by the small bar, and crooked his finger at April. “You owe me.”

Cheeks a nice, dark pink, April slinked across the room, dropping to her knees when she reached Ford. She undid the button of his black jeans, then pulled the zipper down with her teeth. Scott noticed that Ford’s expression hadn’t changed much. Like any man, he liked getting his dick sucked, but it didn’t seem to matter much whose mouth was around his cock. Must be nice to be that indifferent. Scott couldn’t work up any interest in any of the girls. Or the men. Ford was a good-looking guy, but they had an easygoing friendship that Scott didn’t want to mess with.

The last girl—whose name was somewhere in Scott’s fuzzy brain—went behind the bar to toss the empty bottle of tequila. She brought out a bottle of rum, gesturing to Scott with it before pouring herself a good helping.

“No thanks.” Scott bit the inside of his cheek as something tightened low in his gut. He never drank rum. Just the smell of it made him sick. “You okay getting back to your room . . . ?”

“Shanelle.” She gave him a provocative smile, eyelashes fluttering. “You sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled stiffly back at her, ignoring her little pout. Over by the sofa, he shook Carter awake. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Ain’t going to bed wit’ you, Dem—Demmy.” Carter slurred, using Scott’s rarely-heard nickname since he couldn’t seem to say his full last name. “You ain’t Seb.” He sat up unsteadily and frowned. “Miss Seb. Tell him to come get me.”

Fuck, this kid can’t hold his liquor. Rolling his eyes, Scott dragged Carter up to his feet. “No can do, sport. But you’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Good.” Carter nodded, slumping against Scott’s side. “And Jami. But don’t you touch Jami.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re a slut, you know that?” Carter laughed as though he’d just told a great joke. “I heard that Vanek kicked you out. You’ve got to stop fucking whores.”

Scott gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he’d seen Carter drunk before. The kid probably wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. Tequila had just loosened his tongue. He kicked the swinging doors open, pressing his eyes shut as Carter’s stumbling almost brought them both to the floor.

“I’ve cleaned up. Gotta if I want to stay with the team,” Scott said.

“All right.” Carter took a few wide steps away from him, spinning around suddenly, his brow furrowed. “I still see it, you know. You and Pearce, kissing Jami, touching her, fucking her with your tongues.” He braced himself on the wall. “Was fucking hot.”

“It was.” Scott frowned. What was the boy getting at? “You making a point?”

“Yeah. Was jealous. Seb won’t share me,” Carter said, confirming Scott’s suspicions. “I don’t ‘need’ it. But Jami . . . Jami might. She gets off on her men watching her get used by other men. Freaky shit. Sometimes I wonder . . .”

I so don’t wanna hear this. Scott draped Carter’s arm over his shoulder, forcing the boy—and himself—to keep moving. He might not be as far gone as Carter, but his inhibitions were all but shot. “Shut up, Carter.”

“Fuck you.” Carter wrenched away from him, baring his teeth. “I see how you look at me. You never looked at me like that before you found out about me and Seb.”

“I don’t do straight guys. And you seemed like a fag stag. Cool with it all, but not interested.”

“Proved you wrong. But you didn’t do anything about it.”

“Shit. You don’t stop talking.” Scott reached for the door handle to the room Carter shared with the Cobra’s gritty left-winger, Ian White. “I’m gonna gag you.”

“You are one kinky fucker, Demmy.” Carter laughed. “I knew it.”

“Need help?” Shanelle came up behind him, her lips twisted with amusement as Carter slid across the wall away from her. “Don’t worry, cutie. I know you’re into dick. Everyone knows Jami’s your beard.”

The color left Carter’s face. His eyes narrowed. “Is not. I love her.”

“Suuure.” Shanelle winked at Scott, as though they were sharing a secret. “Stay in the closet if you want. Either way, Demyan and I are going to get you in bed before you get yourself in trouble.” She lowered her voice. “I swear, guys like him think they can turn anyone. Come with me once we get rid of him. I’m sure your skin’s crawling by now.”

A whiff of rum had Scott’s blood running cold. His skin was crawling. But not because of Carter.

“Sorry I wasn’t clear before, Shanelle.” He steadied Carter with a hand on his shoulder when it looked like the boy would fall over. “You have nothing I want.”

“Fuck. I was so wrong about you.” Her lips curled with disgust. “Fucking fudge packer.”

Scott stared after her as she stormed down the hall, not sure he could recall the last time he’d come across someone so ignorant. And . . . shit, what if she told someone?

“Wow.” Carter’s body stiffened against his side. “Just . . . wow.”

“Don’t worry. You get used to it.” Scott squeezed Carter. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

“But . . .” Carter shrugged Scott’s arm off his shoulder, staring up at him, lips thin. “If Seb was okay with it—”

Something inside Scott snapped. He wasn’t sure if it was that woman, the stink of rum, or the flashes of heavy breasts in his face every time he blinked, but something had pushed him too far. He shoved Carter into the wall, trapping him with his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

He spoke with his lips over Carter’s. “Why wait? You need something, kid? Just ask.”

“Scott.”

The voice came from behind him, low and calming. A voice that got him thinking about how good he was supposed to be. And how messed up he really was.

Zach gently pulled Scott’s hands off Carter’s shoulders. “Go to our room. I’ll take care of him.”

Scott got to the room. Somehow. But he was mostly numb, and for some reason the furniture kept getting in his way. Damn, he should have just done it. Taken Carter to an empty hall, or to a bathroom stall, and fucked the shit out of him. Who cared that Seb would kill him after? Or that it would destroy Carter’s relationship with the man? And Jami . . .

He was bitter. And more than a little jealous. Carter would go home and probably tell Ramos about everything. Make excuses about how drunk he was—if the tequila didn’t create a great big blank in his head. If the kid was just talking like that because Scott had tasted his muffin, he wouldn’t be asking Ramos permission for anything. If it was more . . . hell, Scott didn’t know what to do with that. Part of the whole complicating his life by behaving deal.

The point was, Carter had it good. And he wouldn’t have chanced fucking that up if he hadn’t gotten so wasted. A real friend would have just gotten him to bed, like Zach was doing.

But Scott couldn’t be anyone’s friend. Or lover. Or anything.

He could still smell the rum. It was like someone had poured a bottle over his body to lick it off. He could almost feel her tongue, thick and wet, gliding over his concave chest. He’d gotten sick a lot as a kid—hadn’t beefed up until he was about fourteen. He leaned against the wall by the bathroom, fists pressed hard to his forehead. The scent got heavier, choking him. A cold sweat cooled his flesh and that reeked of rum too.

He had to get rid of the smell.

In the shower, under the icy spray, he cracked his elbow into the tiles, cursing as the pain reverberated through his bones. He rubbed the soap between his hands, scrubbing his body with the foam. He heard the door open and close as he rinsed. The curtain was shoved aside. The water turned off.

“Scott.” Zach held out a towel, latching on to Scott’s arm to help him out of the shower. “I need to ask you something. And don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t.” Scott fumbled for the towel, a rough sound leaving his throat as Zach pulled him into his arms. He was gonna get wet!

“Did you do time as a kid?”

Time? It took a bit to figure out what Zach meant. Scott laughed and shook his head. “Naw. I wasn’t that bad.”

“Then what makes you act like that, Scott?” Zach latched on to the back of his neck, forcing Scott to look at him. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need no help.” Scott jerked away from Zach, skinning his knees on the floor by his bed as he fell. Hands flat on the floor, he hunched his shoulders. “You wanna do something for me? Stop trying to make me into someone I’m not. I’m a quick, easy fuck. I’m a body.”

“Jesus, Scott. You’re more than that.” Zach hefted him up, then sat him on the edge of the bed. He used the towel to dry Scott’s face and his hair, his eyes hard. “You’re going to tell me. Not now though. Right now, you’re going to sleep this off.”

Scott tipped his head back and laughed again. “Sleep? Yeah, right. I haven’t given you your snack yet. And you’re not letting me get what I need.”

“Snack?” Zach shook his head, shoving Scott onto his back. “You’re not making any sense. What do you need?”

“Things are good after I get off.” Still didn’t make any sense. Why couldn’t he get his brain to work right? “It’s over after that. But not until then. You get it?”

“No. But I don’t see you making things any more clear tonight.” Zach climbed into the bed next to him, his fingers digging into Scott’s jaw as he kissed him. He pushed Scott down when he tried to sit up. “My hands, Scott. Are you sober enough to know who’s touching you?”

“Like I can think of anyone else while you’re here.” His throat tightened. Yeah, I haven’t shown that much, have I? “I’m sorry, Zach. Those other guys were just . . . I don’t know. I can’t stop.”

“Other men. Other women. You just hand yourself out.” Zach bit his throat. Hard. Then he kissed away the pain. “That’s what got to me. What you do to yourself. It’s not right.”

“What’s right?” Scott held his breath as Zach’s hand wrapped around his dick. There was no right or wrong anymore. Just Zach. “Oh, fuck. Please . . .”

“My hand, Scott. You fucking look at me while I do this.” Zach pushed up on his elbow, stroking Scott in his firm grip. “You look at me and you say my fucking name.”

“Zach!” Scott stared at Zach until pleasure blinded him. He pressed his face against Zach’s throat, breathing hard as he came. Hot spurts covered his stomach, but all his attention was on that firm grip, not letting go until he went slack. It went away for a few minutes, and then Zach was cleaning him with a facecloth. Covering him with the blanket. Wrapping him up in his strong arms.

“No good. You didn’t—” Scott’s head throbbed. No pain, just his heart pounding inside his skull. But something was missing. “You have to . . . you can use me.”

“Hell, you and Becky have a lot in common.” Zach pressed Scott’s head down on his shoulder. “Anyone can ‘use’ you. I plan to keep you.”

“Stupid.” Scott drifted off, chuckling under his breath. “You’re a stupid fucker to think that.”

“Yeah,” Zach whispered. “Don’t I know it.”