Touch & Geaux (Cut & Run 7) - Page 10

When the performer approached their table, Zane’s heart rate sped up. The man grinned at them, showing perfect teeth to go with his handsome face. He held his hat out, and Zane dug out a hundred dollar bill and tossed it in, trying to get a look at the guy’s eyes. He decided they were green.

The guy watched the bill flutter into his hat, then twirled the hat around his hand and displayed the empty inside of it to them, his expression scandalized as he discovered the seemingly disappearing bill. Becky laughed and Zane grinned, impressed with the man’s nimble fingers. The bill was nowhere to be found.

He bowed, then plopped the hat on his head and gave Zane a wink as he turned away.

Zane’s heart gave a skip and he cleared his throat, growing more flustered and confused by his reaction.

Becky leaned closer, biting her lip on a smile. “I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to hit that, I’d totally be behind it if I could watch.”

“Oh my God,” Zane muttered, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re blushing!”

Zane laughed harder. “Let’s just go.”

“I told you it’d be fun,” she said as she grabbed for her coat.

They were standing from their table when the woman who’d been performing came up behind them and put her hands on each of their shoulders to keep them in their seats.

“Did you enjoy the show?” she purred.

Becky beamed up at her. “Oh, it was so much fun.”

The woman gave her a gracious nod. “Would the two of you be interested in joining us for an after-party?”

“Oh,” Becky murmured, and Zane could see the blush creeping up her face now. She looked at Zane, her eyes wide.

Zane smiled at her, but underneath the amusement, he realized he was curious. Not necessarily tempted, but certainly curious. He shook his head though, chalking it up to too many hurricanes and too much debauched revelry for the night.

“Thank you, but . . . we’ll have to pass,” he said to the woman.

“Shame. Y’all come back any time.”

Becky held her breath until the woman was gone, and then she gasped and hit Zane in the chest. “I can’t believe that just happened!”

Zane laughed and took her elbow, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you back to the hotel so I can take advantage of you.”

They were still laughing as they pushed through the heavy wooden door into the alley. Zane glanced to his right to see a dark figure leaning against the wall further down, a halo of blue smoke rising from his lips. His back was against the wall, his hips jutting out, one foot propped up against the brick. He made an enticing, sensual silhouette.

Zane nodded at him, recognizing the outline of the bowler hat. The man reached up to the bill of his hat, tipping it to them. Zane stared for another moment before he tore his eyes away and followed his wife out of the alley.

“You’ve never told me that story,” Ty said with a frown.

Zane shrugged. He’d never had occasion to tell it, he supposed. They were huddled around a tiny bar table in one of the quieter establishments, far away from Bourbon Street. The memories had surfaced clearer than he’d expected, but he was frustrated to realize that he couldn’t describe the man in the bowler hat. He only recalled the impression he’d left so many years ago, but Zane supposed that was enough.

He played with the ice in his glass of Coke, fighting the desire to pick up Kelly’s drink and throw it back. His one year sober chip was heavy in his pocket. Ty wasn’t drinking, putting up a united front with Zane so it wouldn’t be quite so hard to fight the urge to indulge. Zane appreciated the gesture, but he hated to tell Ty that no matter what he did, Zane still suffered.

“What year was it?” Ty asked.

“2003. Our tenth anniversary.”

“And you don’t remember what he looked like?”

“Couldn’t pick him out of a lineup.”

Ty nodded, looking almost relieved. Zane studied him for a moment, wondering why. Was it possible Ty knew the man he was talking about?

“So that was your first foray into the g*y, huh?” Digger asked. They were far enough into the night that Ty and Zane were the only ones who were sober.

Zane laughed. “I wouldn’t call it a foray, but yeah, I guess. I didn’t often notice anyone other than my wife, actually. The first actual foray didn’t come until I was in Miami.”

“That was after your wife passed away, right?” Owen asked. Zane nodded. The man had been making an effort, Zane would give him that. He looked supremely uncomfortable whenever Ty and Zane displayed any kind of affection, but he was keeping his mouth shut.

The conversation drifted into an awkward lull. Zane glanced at Ty and patted his back pocket. He’d stopped at one point in the night and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ty hadn’t said anything, seeming to know that giving in to this one vice would help him fight the rest.

Zane excused himself and headed outside to light up. He leaned against the old brick in an alcove off the sidewalk, trying to clear his head and enjoying the cigarette just a little too much. He could tell Ty was feeling guilty that they were here, and part of that was knowing what the atmosphere would do to Zane. Ty hadn’t known what they were getting into down here, though, and none of the others knew Zane was an alcoholic. It was no one’s fault, but Zane was still growing annoyed by it all.

The longer he fought the pull of all that alcohol, the meaner he would get.

A man strolling along the sidewalk bumped into him as he leaned against the wall. Zane peered around the corner of the alcove as the stranger turned. His hand reached for Zane’s waist as if to steady himself.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t see you there,” he said, patting Zane’s side in an overly friendly gesture. His British accent was pleasant, and it immediately reminded Zane of Ty and the Christmas cruise they’d shared. He was handsome, with blue eyes that Zane could just barely see in the dim light, scruffy blond hair, and a smattering of rakish stubble. He had full lips that Zane’s eyes were immediately drawn to, and though he was half a foot shorter than Zane, he was fit and muscular.

Zane gave him a second look over, appreciating the view. He nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”

The man was patting his pockets, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He grinned. “I see you suffer the same vice.”

Zane held up his cigarette. “Guilty. I can’t say I’m suffering though.”

Tags: Abigail Roux Cut & Run Thriller
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