Page 15 of Harris

“Does the asshole want to fuck you or capture you?”

“I’m going with capture,” Harris assured. “You’re the only man I fuck.”

Harris could hear Woodley let out a long hiss of breath, likely calming himself, so he waited.Letting the guy come to his senses without forcing the issue would be best. Worry and jealousy were a volatilecombination.

“Damn right. Asshole’s got a death wish.”

“Easy, dude. This is all part of the plan.”

“I get it.”

“Do you?” Harris had to ask.

“It still sucks.”

“A means to an end.”

“Just as long as it’s not your end,” Woodley said with a bit of a growl in his deep voice.

The guy didn’t have a clue how damn sexy he was.

“I hate to cut this short, but the elevator isalmost to the ground floor.”

“Fine, just be careful.”

“I will,” he said. “You too.”

“Listen, Harris. Um, I—”

“I know,” Harris said before Woodley could say something more.

The last thing he wanted was words forced out due to conditions beyond their control.

The elevator dingedits arrival,and Harris disconnected the call. That could be the last time the two of them spoke. Reality sucked, but nothing he did would change what was about to happen. As he walked back into the restaurant and up to the bar, that reality hit asHarris saw his mark in the same seat as he was earlier.Showtime.

“Here we go,” he whispered, knowing the team could hear and see what he saw.

It was time to draw the fly into his web; however, exactly who was the fly and who was the spider was still up for debate,and which side of the equation you were on.

As he sat down at the bar, a couple of stools over from the guy, Harris noticed a giant of a man sitting at the far end of the bar who he hadn’t seen before. The dude didn’t acknowledge either of them,so he could be a civilian, but Harris would keep his eyes on the guy until he was positive.

“Hey,” his “date” said, smiling widely.

“Hey.”

“Where are your friends?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Harris grumbled, retaining the storyline of the disgruntled team member.

“Ah, got it. How about a beer?”

“Sure, why not? Budweiser.”

The guy motioned the bartender over. “Two Buds. I’m Joe, by the way,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Harris,” he replied, shaking Joe’s hand. No need to lie about his name—the guy likely already knew it.

“Nice to meet you,” Joe said. “I’m glad you had the chance to come back for a drink.”

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