In the distance, Rook heard sirens and that sound alone shot automatic panic up his spine.
“Get the fuck outta here before his husband plugs a hole between your eyes,” Rook growled, watching the five grumbling men stumble away in the direction Rook had come.
The west end of town.
“Gonna give Oz a call to see if they’re stayin’ at our motel. If so, they’re gonna find their shit out in the parkin’ lot.” Teddy still had his phone. “You find your phone?”
He pouted. “They tossed it in the snow and then smashed it.”
Rook glanced at the hairdresser’s face to see a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his green eye. A small cut was right below his dark eyebrow and would turn into an ugly bruise.
Bryson would be pissed that anyone put their hands on his husband.
“You okay?” Rook asked Teddy.
He shook his head, still trembling and hanging onto Rook. Rook put an arm around his shoulders and Teddy turned into him and gave him a bear hug, instead.
Fucking assholes.
If he hadn’t been outnumbered, he would’ve taught those motherfuckers a better lesson.
With his face buried in Rook’s open jacket, Teddy asked, “Why do you gorillas smell so damned good? Manly.”
“It’s transmission fluid and gas.”
“No, it’s leather and testosterone. A gay man’s fantasy.” He pulled away with a sigh.
The sirens were getting closer. With the snow covering the street, Bryson probably wasn’t driving as fast as he’d like.
“Do you have a cigarette I can bum?” Teddy asked, the shake had now reached his voice.
“Thought you quit a long time ago.”
“I did. But I could really use one right now.”
“Got something better than a cigarette for your nerves,” Rook told him with a half-smile.
Teddy glanced toward the direction of the oncoming cruiser. “He’ll be mad about the cigarette, but if he catches me smoking something else…” The dark-haired man shook his head.
Rook gave him a chin lift in understanding, pulled his tin from his inner pocket of his jacket and plucked out a hand-rolled. He put it to his lips, snagged his lighter from the same pocket and lit it. Once it was burning even, he filled his lungs with the smooth smoke and then handed it to Teddy.
The hairdresser’s fingers still held a tremor as he accepted it and took a long drag on it himself. Just as Teddy was blowing the smoke out, the cruiser pulled up in front of the truck Rook had parked illegally.
If Bryson gave him a ticket for that, he’d shove it up the pig’s ass.
Teddy turned his gaze from the cop, who was quickly climbing out of the black-and-white, back to Rook, reaching out and touching the sides of his hair. “You need to get your hiney in my chair soon before you look all raggedy like Cage. Only one of you can pull off the disheveled look.”
“And it ain’t me, I guess,” Rook murmured, his spine stiffening as Bryson rushed over to where they stood.
“What happened?” Teddy’s husband looked worried and his eyes immediately landed on the still bleeding cut.
“Bunch of drunk fuckers jumped him,” Rook answered taking the hand-rolled cigarette back from Teddy.
Bryson frowned at it but kept his mouth shut. Smart. “You see them?” he asked Rook.
“He took care of them, lover. He was like a white knight driving up in a four-wheel-drive black steed. Very hot and sexy.”
“They local?”
“No, I’ve never seen them before,” Teddy answered, eyeing up the cigarette Rook was now smoking.
Rook offered it to him again but Adam stepped between them, blocking the hand-off.
“Ain’t fuckin’ pot,” Rook grumbled.
Adam ignored that. “What did they do? What did they say?”
“I was outside shoveling and had my earbuds in, listening to some of my ‘70s disco playlist. You know, the one I listen to when I’m in a mood to dance. I was wiggling my tush and singing along while I cleared the sidewalk. I never saw them coming until it was too late.”
“Gay bashers,” Rook mumbled.
Adam’s crystal blue eyes turned toward him and ice slithered down Rook’s spine. It was exactly like staring into his sister’s eyes. Same dark hair, same blue eyes, same fucking uniform.
Everything about them was the same. Just different equipment where it counted.
All of those damn Brysons had those ice blue eyes that could see things they shouldn’t.
“Lover, they called me a fag like it was an insult.”
Bryson’s jaw got hard and he tipped Teddy’s face to inspect the cut better. “Doesn’t look too bad. It just needs to be cleaned up and maybe a butterfly bandage. Do you want me to get you an ambulance?”
Teddy shook his head, breaking free of Bryson’s grip, then flapped his hand around, acting as if what just happened was no big deal. “No. I have clients scheduled most of the day since it’s New Year’s Eve. I can’t go gallivanting off to the ER. I’m not losing business because of those assholes.”