Shiver (Unbreakable Bonds 1)

Lucas sank into the worn, brown leather sofa and checked his phone to see Rowe’s one word reply.

Fuck.

Lucas didn’t doubt that he was on his way.

Snow stalked in, slamming the door closed as Lucas tucked his phone back in his pocket. The room was painfully silent, the soundproofing blocking out the annoying trance music. Lucas could have conducted his business in here, but he preferred to keep an eye on things. This room was for his private use, not business.

“I need a favor.” Snow’s voice came gruff and low like he’d been yelling all day at the hospital.

Lucas merely lifted one eyebrow to indicate he was listening.

“Help me find a screamer tonight.”

Lucas didn’t flinch at the request—though it was hard. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words from Snow. When his best friend was in a bad place, he needed rough sex with a man who could tolerate being manhandled. No, a man who liked it. While Lucas liked both women and men in his bed, Snow liked men and men only. The tougher, the better.

After taking a sip of water, Lucas placed his glass on a small end table before rising to his feet. He kept every movement smooth and precise; made sure his expression didn’t show worry or anything else. “I’m not a pimp.”

Snow’s lips curved into something close to a sneer. “No, but you’re a man who knows how to find things. Knows all the hot spots. I’ve been busy and out of the loop.”

“Right. Like I believe that.” Lucas ground his teeth, but refused to rise to the bait. Snow knew good and well that Lucas didn’t engage in illegal activities in business. No, his friend was in one of his foulest moods and if he couldn’t fuck his anger away, Snow would bait him until Lucas would beat sense into him. And Lucas wasn’t willing to oblige him. That had never been a long-term solution.

Damn Snow and his bruised soul.

Lucas would give all of his wealth to find a way to erase the pain of Snow’s past. And the hardship his wall-wrapped bleeding heart caused him daily in that hospital. But after all their years together, Lucas hadn’t found the answer to that particular dilemma.

“Yes, I can get things.” Lucas frowned. “But not everything. Not that.”

“You have the clubs, the connections.” Snow’s smile was cold. “Come on, find me a screamer.”

“It’s a stupid request and you know it.” Lucas paused, his heart starting to beat a painful rhythm against his ribs. “Will you accept a substitute?”

Snow’s shoulders stiffened, his icy, pale blue eyes narrowing.

“Will you take me again?” Lucas asked, the words little more than a whisper.

Pain slashed through Snow’s eyes before he jerked away, his body cringing against the question as if Lucas had struck him. “Fuck you.” Snow’s low voice, ragged and raw, broke. He stabbed his finger at Lucas as his entire body trembled with rage and maybe even pain at the memory that Lucas had called up.

It had been years ago. Snow had been teetering on the black edge of complete self-destruction, demanding a screamer. But Lucas had been unwilling to let Snow prowl the bar scene. It was too dangerous. Lucas couldn’t let Snow risk everything he’d been working his life to achieve. So, he’d offered himself. He’d pushed his friend, knowing exactly how to manipulate him until Snow finally cracked.

The experience hadn’t been completely unpleasant and had in fact, left Lucas with a better understanding of why men were drawn back to his rough friend. But that wasn’t really Lucas’s scene and he’d been left battered enough that it had taken a few days to recover so Rowe could see him without raising too many questions.

It hadn’t really bothered Lucas—he’d been bruised in rough sex before—but the abject horror and pain in Snow’s eyes after it was all over had burned a hole into Lucas’s soul. Their friendship almost hadn’t recovered, but Lucas would never, ever, let Snow leave him. His love for his friend was fierce and solid and unbreakable. He’d mowed down every obstacle Snow had put up, reinforced a friendship forged in mutual childhood pain.

Snow snarled and prowled the room, stomping to the small bar. Gripping the edge with both hands, he stepped back and stretched his long, lean body into a taut bow. His black slacks and white shirt molded to his frame, accentuating hard muscles he seemed to keep despite his hectic schedule. He hung his head low, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room.

Heart aching, Lucas flashed back to the blond seven-year-old friend with the bruised face and lonely eyes. Snow’s intense expression had let Lucas know he’d be in for a fight if he gave in and joined the other boys in their taunts. Lucas had seen something of himself in Snow—even that far back. Something he had never felt completely comfortable with. And that was before he’d learned about the even hotter hell Snow faced when he went home to his family.