Bonds of Denial (10 page)

Carter stared at the nondescript chain hotel and sighed. It wasn’t dirty or dingy. In fact, he knew it well, right down to the lily-scented air fresheners that flooded the hallways and the semi-scratchy surface of the sheets that always came untucked and wrinkled around his feet. He knew it too well, but it had never had his heart constricting like it did tonight.

There was nothing to be done about it though. He swiped his finger over his phone and sent the standard text to the agency. His Friday night appointment was a business traveler who’d been booking him for the last two years whenever he was in town. The man would fly out early tomorrow, back to his real life that didn’t include his secret fucks with a male escort.

Confirming the room number, Carter silenced his phone and tucked it away. He flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed the black shaving bag. It was always stocked with items of his trade. That included a bottle of little blue pills Hank conveniently supplied. He usually didn’t resort to the help, but tonight, he needed it.

There wasn’t a spark of arousal for what awaited him. The disassociation he usually employed to get his mind on his task wasn’t happening. Not even the thought of how he was helping the man, giving him something he couldn’t find elsewhere, got him into the mood.

He swallowed the pill dry before popping a mint into his mouth. Condoms and pillow packets of lube were already in his pocket, but he took a second to rub on some lip balm before returning the kit to the glove compartment.

One hour of sucking cock and bending over wasn’t that big of a deal. The guy was decent enough. The girth of middle age had settled around his waist and his hairline had retreated with the increase of gray that went with the wrinkles around his eyes. He was straightforward with no kinks and zero desire to linger and talk before or after.

In truth, he was a dream client.

The cold had started to seep into the car, the clock ticking down the last ten minutes before he had to go in. There was no valet service here. No fancy lobby or busy downtown street to navigate. The on and off ramps to the highway were literally a block away. He could even hear the low hum of the cars flying down the road as they sped by.

It was these last moments before he had to do his job that were sometimes the worst. He always arrived early, but the wait provided the ideal opportunity for his chosen profession to chip away at the block of disgrace he usually refused to give in to.

He’d chosen to do this and for the most part enjoyed it. The dirty feeling society assumed he carried with him wasn’t there. Sex was natural. Good, no matter who it was between, if it was consensual. The exchange of money only cheapened the act if he let it, and he never had.

That still didn’t stop his thoughts from envisioning the added look of disgust on his parents’ faces if they knew. It would only confirm their belief that being gay had ruined him. Made him become a whore, when it was really their abandonment that had shut down his options until he’d found a way to survive.

Screw them. But the big ole FU didn’t ring with the force it once had.

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have done that because the image of the real reason for his disinterest loomed behind his lids almost immediately. Rockford Fielding. The big military man who had opened up and given something to Carter no one else had. Many trusted him with their secret desires, and some even revealed their private issues and worries to him. But none had ever gifted him with the faith Rock had handed him.

All the more reason to turn away instead of running forward into certain pain, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Of all the countless men he’d serviced, Rock treated him like a real person. A friend, not just a fuck. Rock had asked if he could kiss him.
Asked
. Most assumed and took. Men loved to fuck him, but few wanted to be seen with him.

It was dangerous to get caught up in his own desires, yet his end was so close. Eighty-four more days, that was it. He’d denied himself a chance at something real for so long that he couldn’t give it up now. No matter how it threatened to hurt him.

What the hell?

He shoved the car door open. The wind slapped him across the face with the viciousness he needed. He had a client to take care of and a reputation to uphold. Thoughts of Rock didn’t belong here.

Of course, that couldn’t stop him from picturing the man when his client shoved his cock to the back of Carter’s throat or from imagining it was Rock’s hands that pressed his face into the hard mattress and spread his ass cheeks wide. It was Rock he grunted for. Rock he grew hard for.

Rock he came for.

* * *

The flowing rhythm of the classical music filled his earbuds but failed to provide the calm Rock was searching for. The jarring heavy metal he’d tried before had grated like sandpaper in his ears, and the alternative shit had been even worse.

It didn’t matter how often he rubbed his eyes or how much caffeine he downed. Nothing helped. The data blurred into long lines of garbled information on the screen that his mind was incapable of processing. He couldn’t focus on his job because he kept wondering what Carter was doing.

It was Saturday night. A prime night for going out. Hooking up.

Fucking.

Shit
. It was crazy stupid for him to be obsessing over something he had no right to obsess over. How in the hell could he—a man who’d been so deeply closeted he wouldn’t even admit it to himself until a few days ago—judge a man who was self-aware enough to own who he was and what he did? He couldn’t.

Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He glanced over his shoulder. Wes was watching the screens again, which was good because Rock didn’t trust his attention to give the task the diligence it required. Digging up background information on club applicants didn’t require much concentration. Not for him. And that was both a blessing and a curse, since he couldn’t even manage to work on that.

Yanking the earbuds out, he pushed away from the counter and stood. His back cracked as he reached his hands over his head and groaned. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Wes eyed him with a startled look of confusion.

Apparently, Rock didn’t do simple things like stretch that often. “I’m fine.” He grabbed his thermos and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in ten.” He didn’t wait for a response before he jerked the door closed behind.

The driving thump of the music flowed down the hall and grew louder as he made his way toward the bar. He caught the few quick double takes when he walked through the lounge area. He ignored them all. So what if he didn’t usually come into the club during hours? They could all suck his nuts if they didn’t like it.

Take that back. Too many of them would probably enjoy that. And nobody was touching
his nuts…except Carter. Maybe. If the guy even wanted to.

He slammed the thermos down on the bar as he took a seat on a free stool in the corner. Tyler’s head snapped up at the metal banging on the wood, eyes going wide before a smile beamed across his face.

He ambled toward Rock to brace his hands on the bar ledge. “Hey, stranger. What brings you here?”

Rock flipped him off before shoving his thermos at Tyler. “Need some more coffee.”

Tyler glanced between Rock and the thermos more than once before he reached for it. “Right.” He twisted the lid off and left it on the bar before he moved to the coffeepot along the back wall.

Rock sensed more than one gaze assessing him and he itched to spin around and level a glare at every one of them, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled his brows down and scowled at every damn sub who attempted to get his attention. He wasn’t a fucking Dom. It was an excellent reminder of why he usually went straight to the kitchen to refill his coffee. Talking to Tyler wasn’t worth this shit.

Tyler set the thermos on the bar, the wispy trails of steam rising from the opening before he carefully screwed the lid back on. “You gonna tell me why you’re really here?” He flicked his bangs out of his eyes before leveling an assessing look at Rock.

He stared the man down. “I just want coffee.”

“Ha!” Tyler shook his head and crossed his arms on the bar as he leaned in. “Is this like recon or something? Thinking of coming out of your little room to play?”

What the fuck? Rock grabbed his thermos and spun away. He didn’t need that shit. The frustration boiled in his gut and people stepped out of his way as he strode to the hallway that would take him back to his “little room,” as Tyler called it. Asshole.

“Rock.”

He heard the call and blew it off. The kid could go fuck himself for all he cared.

“Rock.” This time his name was accompanied by the hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I was just giving you shit.”

He shrugged Tyler off without turning around. Why had he sought the man out? It wasn’t like he could talk to him about all the crap that was mucking up his mind. But if anyone could answer some of his questions, it was Tyler.

“Dude.” Tyler maneuvered around to block his path. “I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a confused frown making him look even younger than his baby face already did. “I was only joking. No need to get all pissy about it.”

Rock shook his head. The military men he’d associated with would’ve let him stew in his own piss when he was this ready to clock someone. Tyler didn’t appear to have that self-preservation instinct within him. “Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“No?” Well, fuck all. He shouldered him out of the way but was brought up short when Tyler shoved him back and got in his face.

“You should know by now that this puffed-up gruff thing doesn’t intimidate me. Yeah, you could kick my ass, but there’s no way you would.”

“Really?” Rock tilted forward, his fist clenching around the warm metal of the thermos. “Because you’re pretty damn close to proving that theory wrong.”

“Hey.” Marcus slapped a hand down on each of their shoulders, his grip squeezing hard enough to make an impression. “You guys okay?”

Yup. There was a reason he stayed in his fucking room. “We’re fine.” His words sounded too much like a snarl, which only pissed him off more.

“Really? Because it doesn’t look that way.” Marcus stood taller than both of them and the glare he lowered was too close to the scolding look of disappointment Rock’s father had leveled on him since he was old enough to remember.

“Let me go and I’ll be out of here,” he said, his jaw tight with the control it took to keep his voice even.

The second Marcus let go, Rock barreled past them. He slammed into the security room five seconds later. Wes jerked around. He was half out of his seat, his hand reaching to the back of his waist before he froze then straightened. He passed a glance over Rock, nodded and returned to his chair without saying a word.

Now that was the kind of guy he was used to being around. They didn’t talk shit and they definitely didn’t go digging into another man’s business without invitation. What the hell kind of touchy-feely crap did Tyler think he was doing?
Shit!
He slammed his thermos down on the table. Did the man know his secret? Had Carter told him something, not knowing that Rock knew Tyler? Carter said he didn’t talk about clients, but what about “dates”?

The thoughts manifested into a full case of anxiety. He dropped into the chair and fisted his hands in his lap. Destroying the computer screen in front of him would only raise more questions and have more people butting their unwanted noses into his business.

This wasn’t the first time he’d cursed the fates that had brought Carter to The Den. If he’d never seen the man, none of this would be happening. His life would be cruising along at the same mundane pace that it had been. No crazy ideas. No uncontrolled longings.

Nothing but loneliness.

And there it was. The real truth.

After a lifetime of longing to be touched, held, simply understood, it would hurt so fucking much to find that with Carter then lose it. Was there any way Carter would be satisfied with him? One messed-up man?

The call to arrange their date had been too brief to give Rock any insight into what the other man was thinking. Too many questions with no answers, and Wednesday felt like years away. He’d be insane by then if he didn’t get his thoughts and worries under control.

He had a job to focus on, just like always. People depended on him. He was simply Rock here. He could be that and hide the rest. It was no different than what he’d been doing his entire life. No different at all.

He put his earbuds in, found his heavy metal playlist, cranked the volume up and flipped open the next folder. No different than yesterday. Or tomorrow. Or the next day.

Until Wednesday.

He should’ve known Tyler wouldn’t have enough sense to leave him alone. Rock’s mood had improved by zero when the man strolled into the security room at three in the morning. If Rock had been thinking, he’d have been out of the club when the bar closed at two. Then this whole coming catastrophe of a conversation could’ve been avoided.

But he hadn’t been thinking, had he?

“Hey,” Tyler said as he perched himself in his customary spot between the computers on the back counter.

Other than a flick of his eyes when Tyler had entered, Rock didn’t acknowledge him. He’d given up on his music when it’d become clear that nothing was going to soothe his mood. Now the silence was more grating than the heavy metal had been.

Tyler kicked the back of Rock’s chair, the thump jarring Rock forward. “You gonna talk to me?”

No. Rock settled back into his chair, keeping his back to the man. There were six private rooms booked for overnight stays. Two of them were still in active Scenes, both in the process of winding down. The rest of the club had emptied out by three so there wasn’t anything else for him to monitor except the cleaning crew. That didn’t stop him from staring at those twenty-eight screens like his life depended on it.

“No?” Tyler sighed. “Fine. I can wait you out.”

The jerk would, too. “Don’t you have a Master waiting for you?”

“Not gonna work,” Tyler said, a bored tone to his voice. “You can’t run me off with your stupid little digs.”

Thirty minutes passed, each second counted off by the thump of Tyler’s boot against the file cabinet below the counter. The stinking little clocks repeated at the bottom of each screen moved at an agonizingly slow pace that marked the silent battle staged between the two of them. The last two Scenes had finished, the couples sleeping, so there was nothing left for him to monitor. Tyler could see that. He wasn’t blind.

Can we say childish much?
Rock really was being an abnormally big piece of shit.

“Aren’t Seth and Allie waiting for you?” Rock’s voice seemed to explode into the silence.

The thumping stopped. “Probably. I told them I’d be up when I’m done.” Oh, the convenience of having a boyfriend who lived in one of the lofts on the top floor.

“I could just leave,” Rock told him, his resistance waning.

“Yeah. And I’ll find you tomorrow or the next day or the next.”

“Persistent shit, aren’t you?”

“With my friends, yup.”

“Why?”

“When you live as long as I did without them, you learn to appreciate the ones you have.”

The raw emotion in Tyler’s voice wasn’t something a man faked, and the naked honesty hit home. Here was another man who never shrank from what he’d been or did. From who he was.

Rock swiveled around in the chair and finally gave his attention to Tyler. The black T-shirt with The Den logo on the left breast showed off the lean muscle hidden beneath it. Rock had noticed Tyler’s body before, just like he’d noticed a lot of guys’ bodies. But he’d trained himself not to react—not to even fucking acknowledge how much he liked looking at males.

For the first time, he let himself appreciate how attractive Tyler was. And wasn’t that something?

Tyler was resting his head on the wall, eyes closed, arms crossed in a pose that was far more relaxed than Rock felt. Tyler opened his eyes and cocked a brow that said as much as Rock’s grunts did. It was a move Rock swore the man had learned from Seth.

He chewed on his words for a minute, not sure how to start, let alone
where
to start. The lack of annoyance or pressure from Tyler encouraged him to finally jump in at a completely random place. “How do you do it?”

“What?” Tyler frowned. “Are you talking about hooking again?”

Rock shook his head. “No. Not exactly.” He paused to get his thoughts together. “How are you so comfortable after all you’ve been through?”

“I’m still not following.”

He ground his teeth and resorted to the direct approach. “You’re gay, right?”

Tyler sat up, his hands dropping to press on the counter. “I’m bi.” The statement was precise and boarded on defensive.

“And you were an escort.”

“Where are you going with this?” There was a hard snap of anger in Tyler’s tone now. But there was also a hesitation in his voice that said he was giving Rock the benefit of the doubt and he’d better get to his point damn quick.

He fisted his hands.
Fuck
. He was messing the conversation up once again. He blew out a breath, wishing for a beer that came with a translator. “Nowhere bad. Look.” He leaned forward, his clasped hands holding his focus before he forced his eyes up to meet Tyler’s. “It’s cool as hell that you’re so open about everything. That you’re not ashamed of any of it.”

Tyler slowly sank back, but the tension didn’t leave his body. “There’s no point in being ashamed of what you can’t change.”

“Did you always feel that way?”

He shrugged. “I learned how to be fine with who I was or they’d all win. And I wasn’t letting that happen.”

“They?”

“Everyone.” He swung his arm wide, his lip curling in a snarl. “My dad. Society. The fucking moral police. You get kicked down long enough and you either succumb or you learn to fight back. I may be gutter trash, but I have just as much right as the rich to earn a living and love whoever I want. So yeah, I’m fucking fine with who I am.”

Tyler’s chest heaved with his final declaration, and Rock had an urge to stand and applaud. Instead he managed a lame “That’s cool.”

Tyler stared at him, eyes wide before he let out a rough chuckle and slumped against the wall, shaking his head. “Dude, you are the king of understatements.” He turned his head toward Rock and gave him a tired smile. “What’s this really about?”

What was this about?

There was a rock the size of Gibraltar sitting in his gut, and this was his chance to chisel the fucker down a bit. Maybe. He stared at his hands. “Did they mean anything? When you…when you fucked for money? The men. Did they mean anything to you?”

“God, fuck no.” Tyler’s retort was so quick and hard there was no doubting his words.

“Then how did you do it?”

A big sigh gusted through the air, but Rock couldn’t lift his head to check Tyler’s reaction. “This had better be going somewhere because I’m pretty damn certain you’re not
thinking of taking up a new trade.”

Rock’s head snapped up. “Fuck no.”

Tyler snickered. “That’s one hell of a funny face. I wish I had my camera.”

“Asshole.”

“Dick.”

Rock shook his head and sat back. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Christ.” Tyler rubbed a hand over his face before glaring at him. “I disassociated myself. Okay? Carter told me to think of each gig as a part. It’s an act you put on for the john. Otherwise they’ll take you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left. It’s just sex.”

Instead of chipping away at the boulder in Rock’s stomach, Tyler’s words made it larger.
It’s just an act
. Was that what Carter was doing with him? Playing a part? He didn’t want to believe that, but the truth was he had no clue if Carter was stringing him along or being honest.

“Did you ever meet any of your clients outside of an appointment?”

“You mean, like, for fun?”

Rock nodded.

“Fuck no. I never
wanted
to see any of those assholes, period. No way I’d want to hang with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

Another huge sigh came from Tyler. He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “No. They didn’t all suck. But they weren’t my friends. They were men who paid me to have sex with them. That was it. I had a few regulars I’d built up a comfort level with, but they were never more than an hour or two of small talk and fucking. They were marks I cultivated for my benefit, just like they used me for theirs.”

Marks
. This conversation wasn’t helping at all. The unease rolled around with the doubt, mixing up everything Rock had thought. Was there really anything developing between him and Carter, or was it all an act to get something more out of him? Money? Blackmail? The possibilities swam before Rock, churning and crashing until he had no idea what to believe.

“Did you ever think of leading them on or—” he shrugged, a jagged rise of his shoulder, “—blackmailing them for more money?” What was supposed to be a casual question had come out stiff and choppy. Revealing, but there was no way to retract it.

The silence stretched, and he could almost feel Tyler trying to sort through the questions to find the why of them. Rock resisted the urge to pick at a hangnail, but he couldn’t look up. His head was too heavy to lift under the weight that had returned to his shoulders.

His recently found freedom was slipping away with the unwinding of his confidence. And that was what it was. The fucking insecurities he’d buried behind the hard-earned muscle and cyber-hacking skills were eating their way through.

He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t normal. He was a disappointment. Everyone would hate him if they knew the real him. And the worst one—he’d hate himself.

“No,” Tyler finally said, a slight hesitation in his tone. “It never crossed my mind. Sex for money was an honest business transaction. I’m not a criminal, even if the law said I
shouldn’t
get paid for sex. What you’re talking about is a level of sleaze that is inherent to someone’s character. The opportunity is there and it could be a motivation for some, but not most. Not me.”

“Would Carter do something like that?” He didn’t know how the question got out but there it was, floating in the air molecules like it was no big deal. He closed his eyes and mouthed a curse before he swung around and stared at the screens.
What did I just do?

The silence went on forever this time, or at least it seemed that way. The accelerated
bounce of his leg matched the speed of his heart. There could’ve been a massacre happening on the screens and he wouldn’t have seen it. He repeatedly swallowed to keep his breathing regulated, each pause halting the rising panic by forcing him to think of that action alone. Just swallow.

Maybe Tyler would leave it alone. Maybe he hadn’t heard the question. And if that were true, he would’ve said something by now.

“Rock.”

There was a tilt of question implied in that single word. One he didn’t know how to answer so he didn’t respond. He couldn’t say a damn fucking thing.

“It’s okay,” Tyler said. “I’d already guessed.”

Rock spun around, the chair squealing with the sudden movement. He gripped the arms of the chair, ready to shove away. To bolt. To get the fuck out of the room that was suddenly too small. Close. Crushing him.

Tyler had guessed. How? What had he done to give himself away? But maybe he wasn’t talking about…about…being gay. He clung to that with a desperation that kept him from sinking completely.

“What did you guess?” he ground out. The struggle to keep everything in turned his voice to a gravelly rumble.

Tyler gave him a look that said he knew. He wasn’t stupid, and neither was Rock. It didn’t have to be said because the unspoken word was splashed across a big fucking billboard between them. “You need to say it.”

That was so close to what Carter had said that Rock almost lost it right there. He was uncertain if the trapped turmoil would burst free in a violent wave of destruction or a simpering flow of tears. Neither was acceptable, so he crushed it back. Stuffed it down. Just like he always did.

His fingers ached where he clenched the chair, yet he couldn’t loosen his hold. He had no clue if any of what was slamming around inside of him showed on his face and he couldn’t bring himself to care. But he had to know one thing—no, two—but he would start with one.

“You going to tell anyone?”

“No.” Tyler glared at him, but it was filled with annoyance not anger. “Why would I? That’s nobody’s business but yours.”

Question number two. “Would Carter do that? Con or blackmail a client for more money?”

It didn’t matter what Tyler thought anymore. The need for an answer was greater than maintaining the last vestiges of his pride. Rock couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tyler now. He wasn’t going to miss a single clue, hint or tell that would give him his answer about Carter.

Tyler hitched a boot onto the edge of the counter and wrapped his hands around his knee. Again, the position was casual, but it was a false show that didn’t hide the white-knuckled grip or the tense line of muscles down his arms. He didn’t rush with an answer, and every second added to Rock’s dark fear that he’d been such a fucking sucker. An easy mark Carter had pounced on.

When Tyler spoke, there was a tentative quality to it, like he was walking through a minefield, uncertain where to place his next step. “I can’t see Carter doing something like that, but I don’t know for sure. I know him to be a good guy. He helped me more than once when he didn’t have to. But I don’t know his background or his history. He’s a friend to me and has never done anything to make me doubt the truth of that friendship.”

It was a straightforward response that didn’t come close to answering Rock’s question. Tyler had implied Carter was a good actor. Maybe his friendship was just another act that had everyone fooled.

“I’m making another guess that you’ve met Carter,” Tyler went on. “More than once. That things went well, too well, and now you’re questioning it. Guess number three is that you’ve seen him outside of a paid engagement.”

He waited, but Rock wasn’t responding in any way. Tyler’s guesses were so spot-on accurate that he couldn’t get past the nailed-to-the-wall feeling that sucked the air from his lungs.

Tyler nodded. One small chin bob that said he’d take Rock’s silence as confirmation. “The only thing I can tell you is that I never would’ve hung out with a client unless there was something real there. Once you’ve been with enough guys, it becomes easy to assess a man within minutes of meeting him. A good escort has to be able to do that.” He blew out a long breath that fluttered the edge of his bangs. “There’s something you have to understand.”