Burning Bright (18 page)

Sasha relaxed with relief. He didn’t really want to climb all those stairs weak in the knees. Carlos went into the kitchen and came out with two-dozen eggs.

Neal slipped an arm around him. He resisted at first, but Neal shook him gently. “Stop being such a tough guy.”

The elevator arrived and they walked in. He pulled away from Neal to stand by himself in one corner. They arrived on the top floor to the smell of waffles and powdered sugar. Steve went to the kitchen and pulled the batter over to start making the rest of them.

Sasha rinsed quickly in the shower and dressed in clean clothes. He went into Neal’s bedroom and laid down on the bed with his arm over his face.

After a moment, the mattress bounced as Neal sat next to him. He rubbed Sasha’s chest with a warm hand. “Hey, Doc.”

Sasha let his hand fall back over his head onto the pillow. He met Neal’s gaze. “Why did he come here?”

Neal shook his head. “I have no idea. I guess to tell me there’s going to be a fight.”

“Can you win?”

He shrugged. “No idea.”

Sasha sat up, anger flooding him. “No idea? Fucking hell, Neal.”

“Doc, calm down.”

“No. No, man. What the fuck? These people are crazy.”

“Yeah, and they want my place. Do you think I should hand over the deed?”

Sasha blinked. “You’re not serious.”

“That’s what this has been about since the beginning.”

He brought his hand down to close on Neal’s elbow. “No. You can’t do it.”

“I have almost a dozen guys coming from the
Troika
,” Neal told him. “We’ll settle this once and for all.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to stay here for it.”

Sasha whipped back. “Fuck you.”

“Doc.”

“I can fight.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Neal caught his wrist in a gentle grip. “I meant, if you don’t want to deal with the drama.”

“Oh.” Sasha inhaled, heat flowing into his face. “I…”

“I don’t think it’s going to be much more than a pissing contest, anyway,” Neal said. “We’ll get some intel and then we’ll know for sure.”

“Neal…” He wanted to say,
I love you
, but couldn’t quite get it past his lips. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course I will. Besides, we haven’t had a good fight since we got back to the States, and the guys are getting bored.”

That made him laugh.

“Come on. Steve’s made waffles for dinner. That’s my favorite.” Neal stood and held his hand down for Sasha to take, and hauled him to his feet.

“I come to Chicago and meet lycanthropes and get involved in a turf war. No one at home is going to believe this.”

“They think you’re too innocent?”

He shook his head. “They’ll be pissed I didn’t invite them to the fight.”

Neal laughed and led the way out to the living room.

Carlos and Mitch didn’t stay to eat, but Sasha enjoyed his time with Steve and Neal. Considering how antagonistically the two Marines reacted to each other upon their reunion, relief filled Sasha. He didn’t want to take sides.

Steve’s waffles rivaled any his aunts made and he had two servings. The tigers, of course, had twice that…

“Do lycanthropes eat more?” Sasha asked, watching Steve take another serving of bacon.

He shrugged. “Yup.”

Neal chuckled. “You’ve always been a pig.”

Steve pointed his fork at the other man. “You watch it, smartass.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bring it on, fur ball.” Neal turned to Sasha. “Any news on your job situation?” Neal asked Sasha.

He shook his head. “I should hear soon, though. Doctor Salisbury said the board met and is discussing it. He thinks they’ll have a decision by Tuesday.”

Neal pursed his lips and nodded. “Well, we’ll see.” He sipped his coffee. “Got plans for tonight?”

“No…”

“I’m doing a demo on stage, if you want to watch.”

“Yeah, sure. That would be fun.”

Steve got up to wash dishes, and Neal sat back. “I have to do some paperwork downstairs, if you don’t mind hanging out for a while.”

“You sure I won’t be in the way?” Sasha asked. He had the overnight bag in his truck “just in case”, but now he guessed it might be imposing.

Neal leaned forward, capturing his attention. “You’re not in the way, Doc.” His voice sounded all growly and low, like a tiger’s mutter.

Gods, but the man was hot…

Neal chuckled and got up from the table, going to retrieve something or other from the bedroom. Sasha stayed in his chair, trying to center himself by taking deep breaths. Steve said nothing, just washed dishes like he didn’t hear a thing.

Sasha sighed. His life certainly didn’t get boring, that was for sure.

Chapter Twenty-One

Unexpected

The heavy rhythm of the industrial rock song sounded like a giant heartbeat to Sasha. It swept through his body like a tsunami, carrying him along. He arched and swayed, his feet never still as he danced. Dillon had been with him earlier, but left to prepare for his demo on stage. A hand smoothed over the curve of Sasha’s hip, way too familiar. Sasha snapped his head around and his glare bounced off of Mitch’s grin.

He shook his finger at the Marine, who appeared unrepentant. If anything, the other man’s smirk grew. Rather than waste his time trying to scold Mitch, he settled in to enjoy the shifter’s company.

And Mitch could definitely dance.

Where Dillon’s movements were all sensual promise, Mitch moved like he wanted to have steamy sex with him.
While
still on the dance floor. What would the other man be like with someone he had a chance with, considering how he seemed to view dancing as foreplay?

The Marine’s presence did keep away others that tried to bother Sasha. Mitch could switch from steamy to dangerous in two seconds flat if someone edged too close. Of course, some tried to edge toward Mitch himself, to which he seemed oblivious.

Mitch wore tight black jeans and the black combat boots of his uniform. He tucked the grey T-shirt into the back waistband of his jeans to swing around behind him like a tail. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his bare torso and Sasha had to admit that the other man was hot.

Not that he’d ever admit
that
to the big guy.

Considering the tiger’s smirk and sense of smell, maybe Sasha didn’t need to. After another song, Mitch tapped his watch and blew him a kiss before leaving. Sasha smiled and nodded. He loved the next song and let it sweep him along.

A stranger tried to dance with him, but he left the floor and worked his way to the bar. After wiggling into a spot, he nodded at the bartender, a black-haired man named Frank. Sasha mouthed “water” and got a smile and nod.

Frank came with a bottle of Dasani and gave him a look when he offered to pay. Having the boss as a lover definitely came with perks. Instead, Sasha put the five in the tip jar when Frank turned away.

The music changed, capturing his attention. Dancers on the floor slowed their movements and began jockeying for standing spots on it instead. Sasha turned to lean against the bar, waiting to see when Neal appeared. The top wore thigh-high leather boots with thick, chunky soles. Brown leather pants clung to his thighs like a second skin. Shirtless, only wide leather bracers wrapped around his forearms. Oil gleamed on the acres of bared skin.

Damn, his lover was hot.

Sasha watched as the top carefully examined the bondage furniture positioned on the stage. Neal ignored the clapping and comments called to him. What Neal inspected appeared to be a combination of a spanking bench and a set of stocks. Warmth filled Sasha as he gazed over the crowd. Sasha raised his arm and gave a little wave and the intent cinnamon gaze found him. Sasha basked in the envious looks that a few twinks sent his way.

The lights dimmed even more and a spotlight shone on the small stage. Another found Craig and Dillon waiting off to the side near where the Security Room hid.

Sasha stared at the pair and allowed himself a smutty, unfaithful fantasy. Craig wore a matching outfit to Neal’s, his done in dark red leather. On Dillon, only a white thong covered him, and barely at that. The smaller man’s hair glowed paler in the light, almost creating a halo. Considering some of the things the werefox hinted about the upcoming demo, any comparison to an angel was accidental.

Sasha watched, his cock hardening, as Craig locked Dillon into the piece of equipment with many long, lingering caresses. Neal circled them like the big predator he hid under his skin. When Craig secured the submissive, Neal strode to the rack that hung floggers. The other Dom joined him and they appeared to confer, taking down several and giving practice swings in the air. The audience loved this display. Dillon appeared to wait patiently, but even from the distance to the bar, Sasha could see the shivers of excitement that raced over the younger man’s skin.

Neal chose one and strode over the stage to caress Dillon with the suede strands, running them over his pale shoulders and back. Craig stood in front of the bound man, his hands tilting Dillon’s face up. The bondage furniture brought the submissive’s head level with the other top’s groin. Craig thrust his hips forward and let Dillon rub his face over the red leather covering his cock.

Neal drew back his arm and a thick thud seemed to echo around the almost silent club. Sasha watched, fascinated, as red bloomed across Dillon’s pale buttocks. Irritation flashed through him when a body bumping into him interrupted his fantasy.

Who would want to order a drink now and miss any of this?

A muscular young man leered at him as Sasha moved slightly. When Sasha glared back, the man’s grin grew bigger. Some guys couldn’t take a hint.

The newcomer’s gaze ran over him and Sasha didn’t consider himself vain to think that he looked good. He wore a midnight blue mesh shirt with a diamond pattern that matched the diamond cutouts running up the outside sides of his cobalt leather pants. They clung to his legs except where they flared at the ankle for his short boots. The shirt boasted a wide, curved neckline to show off that he wore no collar. He loved it when Neal’s eyes darkened earlier, and he wrapped a huge hand around his throat. Neal’s low voice had warned him to stay out of trouble.

Looks like that advice flew out the window. Sasha might be a sub, but getting pushed around got old. Fast.

Just when Sasha opened his mouth to say something, the newcomer looked past him. Sasha’s unwanted admirer’s beefy face paled as he backed away. Sasha frowned and spun out his empathy but it came back with nothing. So, no shifter stood behind him. He moved so his back leaned against the bar again and looked over.

A pale gaze met his, the eyes flat and dead.

Crap.
Vadim
stood next to him.

How long had the Russian stood there? It couldn’t be by accident that the Mob boss’s second appeared. Sasha tried to remember if the guys mentioned Vadim’s last name to him; addressing him by his first seemed too intimate in this setting.

“Uh, hi.” Sasha winced at the awkwardness of his greeting.

Vadim nodded as he sipped clear liquid from a squat glass.

Vodka, Sasha guessed. “What are you doing here?”

Broad shoulders shrugged under snug wine fabric. The silk tee showed the impressive muscles the suit concealed. Matching raw silk black trousers clung to lean hips and powerful thighs as the other man leaned against the bar. Black tattoos adorned the pale forearms, wrists and fingers.

“I cannot be visiting?” Vadim replied in Russian.

Sasha gestured around them. “This isn’t your scene.” He didn’t move his gaze away from the Russian. Vadim reminded him of a snake, all sleek and dangerous. Holding eye contact seemed prudent.

Vadim held his gaze. “You should consider leaving Chicago. This dispute should concern business, but for Pyotr Ivanovich it has changed to personal.”

“What do you mean?” Sasha let anger lace his voice, it hid the nervousness. He concentrated on Vadim’s words and the fact that he didn’t use Petya’s nickname. Was that a sign of dislike or of respect?

“With you, he lost face. Taking over this establishment should have made his mark in the organization. Instead, he is a joke.”

“How…what? He beat the shit outta me. How can that make him look bad?”

“You put out of commission one of the men under his control, making Alyosha useless. Something Alyosha is vocal about when others complain of him not doing his duties, blaming you and Pyotr Ivanovich. Also the other, Iosef.” At Sasha’s nod of remembrance Vadim continued. “He has, how do you say in English, a big mouth.”

“What do you mean?” Sasha answered him in Russian.

“You, a sissy man, flipped Pyotr Ivanovich, throwing him on his ass in garbage. Iosef is not shy in sharing that story.”

“They attacked me.” Sasha narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care about my welfare, anyway?”

Those broad shoulders shrugged again. “I don’t. Pyotr Ivanovch holds a unique position in the organization and I must deal with him. You are making my job harder.”

“Oh, gee, sorry about that,” he snarled in English.

Sarcasm laced Sasha’s tone but Vadim nodded gravely as if he’d been serious with the apology.

“Expanding from Uptown to Edgewater is the next logical step. Instead, it has become messy and I abhor messy.”

Did Vadim expect him to apologize again? He had no intention of doing so, but this
did
present a golden opportunity to learn more. Switching back to Russian, he said, “Do the others on this totem pole you mentioned dislike messy as well? Pulling them into this must make you all look bad too.”

He watched Vadim frown and take a swallow of his drink. Before the Russian could answer, men started moving and shifting around them.

Sasha watched Steve push several patrons out of his way to come straight at them. He glowered, the anger tightening his face and changing it to an intimidating mask. As he approached, Sasha could read the concern in his eyes, but that didn’t change his lousy timing. Crap, he didn’t
need
rescuing. Couldn’t the big man have waited longer?

Sighing, Sasha moved forward and Steve’s muscled arms wrapped around him. Sasha inhaled the rum spice scent of his lover and guilt filled him. Steve only wanted to protect him and he pushed away his irritation. The likelihood of harm coming to him while surrounded by people was slim, but Steve wouldn’t see it that way.