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  Twiggy looked as if he were about to cry.

  “Get me as much information on Victoria Mize as you can. Find out what’s going on with her. After that, I’ll take you to rehab. I’ll pay for it.” Twiggy’s eyes widened, and Sydney let him go. “Do what I tell you, Twiggy, or I’ll hunt you down like a fucking deer in November. You’re done with that shit. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, Syd. Yeah, okay. I hear you.”

  “Good.”

  Twiggy started to scoot out of the seat, but then he stopped and looked at Sydney. “Harvey Guthrie wants you alive. He has people looking. Someone’s paying him for you.”

  Sydney nodded and thought about that for a second.

  Twiggy stood and shuffled his feet for a few seconds before he slowly stumbled his way across the empty bar to the back door.

  How Twiggy got his information, Sydney had no idea. He’d never really asked him, but maybe the next time he would. Twiggy’s information was always good, but Sydney still didn’t trust the man.

  Being in the rafters of a warehouse in the shittiest neighborhood in the city was yet another notch on Sydney’s bad-idea belt. He’d do more dumb shit after this. He had a few things planned out, but his primary focus was getting the hell out of the situation.

  The three men, standing directly below him, needed to go so he could leave. All three of them were big and looked like they were in the mob. For all Sydney knew, they could be. Clearly, he was in the wrong seedy warehouse. He wasn’t about to fuck with the mob. Hell, he didn’t even want to mess with Guthrie, who sounded like a complete psychopath. If nothing else, his loyalties were misplaced.

  So far, the only thing the men were talking about was football and the way some woman’s tits looked on a stripper pole. Firstly, the football season had just gotten started about a month before, and Sydney thought the whole game was a snooze fest. The uniforms the players wore weren’t even hot. Sydney was more of a swimming or diving kind of guy. Chiseled men in speedos were very hot to watch and, really, that was all that mattered. That and wet, slick skin.

  Secondly, boobs were pretty to look at, even he had to admit that, but he still didn’t want to think about a pole between them. Thinking about them at all, in any capacity didn’t exactly give him wood.

  And why was he up there thinking about boobs again? Oh yeah, because he was bored out of his fucking mind.

  The rafter he was lying on made his dick hurt. He was pretty sure his dick was pressed against a bolt, but if he moved, he might alert them to his presence. He wasn’t that far from them, just a few feet overhead, so it was a real concern.

  The fact that he was freezing his balls off only added to his discomfort. October on the shit side of Chicago was cold.

  Sydney turned his head when he heard boots clomp across the cement floor. A man in his early to mid-sixties came toward the trio. “Does Ms. Mize pay you to stand around?”

  One of the men, who had dark military-cut hair, was bold enough to say, “She hasn’t paid us at all in several weeks, Mr. Guthrie.”

  Sydney stiffened when he heard Guthrie’s name. Apparently, Twiggy had his information right. Good for Twiggy. Sydney didn’t have to waste time kicking his ass.

  His eyes widened, and he held his hands over his ears when Guthrie pulled out a gun. The shot was so loud Sydney’s ears rang, despite the attempt at protecting them. The man who’d spoken fell to the floor in an instant.

  “Do you two care about getting paid too?” Guthrie asked the question as if he were asking them how much they paid for milk at the supermarket.

  Both men shook their heads, which was smart on their part.

  Guthrie pointed his gun at one of the men. “You stake out the Demon Elite headquarters. If you see Reggie Mize, take him. I want him alive.”

  “The entire area around the mansion is secure.”

  “I know that. Find a way around it.”

  “There is no way around it. I’ve checked.”

  Okay, maybe the man wasn’t so smart after all. He argued with a guy who’d just shot his friend through the forehead. Sydney rolled his eyes. Idiot.

  “Do what I tell you.” Guthrie said it like he was a military drill sergeant.

  The man walked away after that. “Demon Elite finds out I’m close, and I’ll be a dead man anyway,” the man mumbled as he left.

  Guthrie turned and shot another bullet. Sydney didn’t have time to cover his ears, and the sound of the shot going off made the insides of his ears ring with pain. Guthrie said something that Sydney couldn’t hear, and the man took off, running for the exit.

  Apparently, Guthrie had aimed low, at the man’s feet, to send a warning.

  Guthrie turned to the other man. “Now, you’re going to go outside and get in the van that’s waiting for you. That van has three other people in it. They’ll help you find Sydney Marshall. I have good information that says he’s on the west side in some dance club even as we speak. You bring him to me.” The man nodded and started walking away. He stopped when Guthrie started talking again. “Don’t damage the merchandise. Anything that happens to him, happens to you. And then I kill you. Is that understood?”

  The man nodded once and left the warehouse.

  Sydney’s heart beat against his chest. It was so loud it superseded the ringing. He was sure Guthrie heard it. If he did, he didn’t seem to care, because Guthrie pulled out his phone and pressed on the screen. Someone answered, and Guthrie must have had the phone on speaker, because Sydney could hear the other person’s voice.

  “Do you have Sydney yet?”

  Given it was a woman’s voice, he assumed it was the voice of Victoria Mize.

  “No, but his informant has turned on him. We know his whereabouts.”

  Like hell would Twiggy turn on him. Twiggy had given them false information, apparently, as Sydney was hanging from the rafters right above Guthrie’s head trying to ignore his pounding heart, whistling eardrums, and bruised balls. Twiggy was covering Sydney’s ass, and for that Sydney really would take him to rehab. Twiggy would need to lay low when Guthrie found out he was giving him false information anyway, and rehab was probably a good place to do that.

  The little shit might be a drug addict, but he wasn’t stupid. He would stay alive longer if he sided with Sydney, and Twiggy knew it. Sydney might not care about that many people, but he’d stay loyal to the people that were loyal to him. Only problem was Sydney wasn’t sure if he could save himself from whatever fate Mize and Guthrie had cooked up for him.

  “We need him alive. The federal authorities are on to me, Harvey. If they find me, then they find you. We need Sydney. I have a buyer that’s willing to take him for a short period of time. He’ll keep him alive until we need him.”

  Son of a bitch.

  Sydney narrowed his eyes and waited. Mize wasn’t stupid, Sydney would give her that much. She knew enough to know she’d need to get him out of the way.

  “We’ll have him by this time tomorrow.”

  “You can guarantee that?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Guthrie hung up the phone. He put it in his pocket and left the warehouse.

  For the first time in his life, Sydney was genuinely scared.

  Sydney moved his foot over the rafter, going as slowly as he needed too so as not to make a sound. He used his foot to lift his pelvis enough to get the bolt off his dick and sighed in relief. Sydney lifted up slowly until his feet were underneath him. He used the beam in front of him as leverage and slowly stood.

  Sydney had been a loner from the first job he ever took. He never worked with anyone else. The fewer people that knew he killed for money, the better off he’d been. The first job he’d ever done was for a prostitute whose pimp beat her up on a regular basis. He didn’t even do the job out of kindness. He did it because a wall separated his apartment from hers and the constant thrashing and pounding against the walls had kept him awake. He worked nights as a stripper, so he slept during the da
y, which just so happened to be about the time the pimp came by for his money.

  So yeah, he hadn’t been a fucking saint or anything. He had just wanted to sleep in peace. He didn’t know that the prostitute’s baby daddy was one of the biggest drug dealers in the area. The baby daddy hired him on several occasions after that. When the guy acted as if he owned Sydney, he killed him. That one single act had propelled him forward, creating this world Sydney never really wanted to be in but didn’t seem to have a choice after that first time.

  Being a loner was no longer an option. Twiggy having his back proved that fact quite nicely.

  Sydney balanced on the rafter beam as he walked across it.

  Sydney pulled his phone out of his pocket the second he was clear of the warehouse. He called Twiggy right away and left a message when he didn’t answer. Sydney figured he was probably too high to care about a phone call. Good, it meant he was probably in some run down shack with all the other druggies, which meant he was laying low.

  The next thing he did was text Max. I have information you’ll want. He wouldn’t tell Max that he needed someone on his side, someone that would get him out of the clusterfuck he was in. It was as if Victoria had a shovel and he was watching her dig him a grave. He felt helpless to stop her.

  Sydney took a shaky breath and willed down the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat.

  Max would lock him up and throw away the key, but he had no one else. He couldn’t trust anyone. Jail was preferable to being someone’s fuck toy or whatever Victoria’s buyer had in mind for him.

  Either way, he was fucked, and not in a fun way.

  Sydney smirked. Well, with Max, it would be in a fun way as well.

  He put his phone back in his pocket and walked the distance to his car. He had parked it a few blocks away. Considering the neighborhood, he just hoped he still had hubcaps. His car was a piece of shit anyway, so it should be safe. He kept his hand on the gun in his pocket as he walked down the sidewalk. Anyone who knew the score would know what he was holding, and that was just the way he wanted it.

  The cool metal against the palm of his hand released some of the tension in his shoulders, allowing him to think about his next plan.

  His cell phone vibrated against his leg, and he pulled it out again.

  I feel a little used, Sydney. You don’t call or write.

  Sydney grinned. So you missed me?

  Maybe a little. Least you could have done is buy me breakfast.

  Sydney got right down to business. Mize has someone watching your headquarters.

  He put his phone back when he saw a group of men come out of a bar. They were loud and drunk. One seemed to be carrying the other. He put his hand back in his pocket, taking the gun in his hand as he passed them. He kept his finger on the safety and minded his own business.

  When one of the men turned to him, Sydney met his gaze. He smirked as the man swayed even as he came forward. The man reached out for him, but Sydney skirted around his touch. He was superb at moving away from an unwanted touch while still creating a friendly tone. He had learned that particular skill while naked. Well, most of the time, he had a thong on, but that was close enough to count.

  Sydney smiled. “You gonna buy me dinner first, stud?” The man was cute in a big lumberjack sort of way. He wasn’t Sydney’s type, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was a handsome man.

  The others laughed and then laughed even harder when the man stumbled forward. “Sidewalk moves,” the man said to Sydney, which made Sydney let go of his gun and pat the man on his arm.

  “Yeah, I think that’s the alcohol.”

  The man pointed to the door of the bar he had just left. “Drink with me?”

  “Sorry. I can’t. I have a meeting.” Sydney wouldn’t tell the man that he had a meeting with an assassin. Well, he hoped for a meeting.

  Sydney pulled out his phone again and then waved to the man as he began walking. His car was just around the corner.

  It wasn’t until he was in his car, fully seated with the doors locked, that he looked at his phone again.

  A reply from Max lit up his phone screen.

  Why are we sharing all of a sudden? Max’s sudden seriousness said a lot about his thoughts on the information Sydney had just given him.

  Meet me at The Hammock and I’ll tell you.

  The Hammock?

  Have your computer genius look it up for you and meet me there in three hours. Three hours would give him plenty of time to get to the club and talk to Frank about working for a night. After five years, he hoped he could still dance. He hadn’t even practiced in all that time.

  I thought you didn’t want to meet.

  I said I’d think about it.

  * * * *

  Max knocked on Germ’s open office door and took a step inside. Germ was behind his computer, completely in his element. Most of the time, Germ made it look like he was doing something so important it would save lives. Some of the time that was true. Given the fact that Reggie was sitting in front of Germ on the office chair, giggling and pressing keys on the keyboard, flinging fruit or something at an animated structure, Max would say Germ wasn’t saving anyone’s life.

  The happy way Reggie played his game might get Germ laid, though, and that was satisfaction all by itself.

  “Hey, can you delete the last few texts between Sydney and me?” Max asked as he sat down in the empty chair beside him.

  “Why?”

  “Because I sent a naked picture of myself to Sydney, or close to naked. I don’t think Justin will appreciate it. Just the pictures. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

  Germ looked at Max suspiciously. “Why would you send him a picture of yourself?”

  Max grinned and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Just trying to make friends.” Max had done it to try and get in Sydney’s pants. It worked. Sort of. Phone Sex totally counted.

  Germ looked at him for the longest time. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve never met him face to face.” Max wasn’t about to tell nosy Germ that he was about to meet Sydney for the first time and that the fucking might actually be something that would happen—though he knew Sydney was starting to figure out Mize’s plan for him and he was probably running scared. Max had known Sydney would need his help when Reggie slipped them Harvey Guthrie’s name, and that was over a month ago, when Reggie first came to live at the Lakehouse. He’d just figured he’d bide his time and see if Sydney would actually ask him for help. Looked like he was going to, and that just might get Max laid.

  What would Sydney be like? The better question was what would his ass look like. Damn, Max couldn’t wait to find out.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Germ asked. Reggie turned to him and whispered something in his ear. Germ kissed him on the cheek. “Can we pause the game for now?”

  “Sure.” Reggie pressed a button, then leaned against Germ’s chest, watching Max as Germ turned the chair to face him.

  “Just tell me. You know I’m going to find out eventually.”

  Max chuckled. “Just delete the pictures.”

  “So where are you going looking like that?”

  Max looked down at himself. He didn’t have on anything special, just darker clothes in case things with Sydney got dangerous and he needed to duck out of the situation unseen. Dark clothes would help him blend into the darkness.

  “To a club.”

  Germ shook his head. “Those aren’t your club clothes.”

  Max sighed. “You’re a nosy fucker, do you know that?”

  Germ just grinned and waited.

  Max sighed. “Don’t tell anyone yet.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m meeting Sydney at some club. I’m not sure what’s going on just yet.”

  “Don’t fucking bring him back here, Max. He’s dangerous.” Germ’s arms came around Reggie. “He could try to hurt Reggie.”
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br />   “He’s not the one that took the contract for Reggie.”

  “I know.”

  “Just because you see his name on it doesn’t make him the enemy.” Max thought about it for a moment. “I believe he needs our help. He’s not in a good place right now.”

  “Take a communication device. If you need backup or something, then we have you covered.”

  “Yeah, might not be a bad idea.” He’d stick the thing in his pocket, just in case. Max looked at Reggie and winked.

  Reggie smiled at him. “I think it’s sweet of you to meet him. Offer him your help.”

  “I’m only going to get a good look at Sydney’s ass. I figure if I share a little information, maybe he’ll let me fuck him.” Max wiggled his eyebrows.

  Reggie’s eyebrows drew together, and he looked at Max with an odd expression on his face. “You wouldn’t use him like that.”

  “Yes, he would,” Germ said, kissing Reggie’s cheek. “Max only thinks with his dick. He won’t lie to him, though.”

  “Yeah. Sydney will be well aware of my intentions.”

  “You should give him the information anyway, whether he has sex with you or not.”

  Max shrugged.

  Reggie pointed a finger at him. “Just do what I say, Max.”

  Max raised his eyebrows and then looked at Germ, who grinned and kissed Reggie’s cheek again.

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. But I don’t know why you care.”

  “He’s all alone, and my sister is a bitch who will hurt him just because it benefits her. I know how both feel, and they’re not fun.”

  “Just don’t bring him here,” Germ repeated.

  Chapter Three

  The Hammock was a gay strip club. Max wanted to laugh as he stared at the pink neon sign. How had he never known about the place? He needed to get to the city more often.