Page 46 of Burn this City

If he’d had any doubt left about Barsanti’s sexuality, he now knew that Beth’s gaydar had been spot on.

And this explained so much about the man’s prodigious self-control and composure. If Barsanti had had to hide such a fundamental part of himself for so long, while the other men around him partied and snorted coke off the tits of their various mistresses, all that Barsanti could conceivably do was learn how to grin and look relaxed.

“You should have done okay. All the prison pussy you could want.”

And Sal had prodded and harassed Barsanti mostly because he’d blinked and he’d thought Barsanti was so bigoted that riling him up about gay prison sex would make him come out of his shell.

You pushed a gay guy around out of a sense of self-righteousness, Mr. Open-Minded Bisexual Boss.

Weirdly, Sal felt worse about taking jabs at Barsanti’s sexuality than about drowning and then drugging him. No doubt he needed his fucking head examined.

All of this kept Sal from falling asleep, even though an ache settled in behind his eyes that told him he was overly tired and needed rest because caffeine was no longer going to cut it.

After a while, Jack stirred next to him on the couch and cleared his throat.

Sal looked up and noticed that Jack was making an attempt to sit up and pull up his trousers. Was this going to be awkward?

“Shit.” Jack fought his trousers and nearly fell back, but he managed to get dressed, gripped the seat edge and an arm of the couch for balance.

“Where are you going?”

“Kitchen. I need …” He gestured, but Sal couldn’t parse the gesture. “Water.”

“I’ll get you a glass. Anything else? You hungry?”

“I can’t even tell.” Jack let himself sink back down.

“All right.” Sal stood, closed the laptop and slipped his tablet back into its sleeve. In the kitchen, he found a large glass and filled it with water, then added one of the ready-to-drink protein shakes from the bottom of the fridge and brought both over to the living room area, reasoning that the latter would be easy calories that didn’t require fine motor skills. Jack was checking his arm and prodding at a small bruise from the injection.

“Here.” He handed both to Jack, who sat up to reach for the glass first and placed the protein drink on the couch next to him. He’d pulled down his undershirt, but the dress shirt over it was open and still looked great on him.

“Thank you.” Jack must have been parched because he emptied the glass in seconds. “What in the devil’s name did you …” He gestured again.

“Doc tells me it was mostly ketamine. Though he put his own spin on it. Real boutique stuff you were treated to. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. Might be lack of food, though. Headache. Could be caffeine withdrawal.” He put the empty glass down on the table and opened the plastic bottle. “Light’s still glaring.” He nodded toward the gigantic windows opposite.

“Want me to close the shutters?”

“Please.”

There was no real need or urgency in that word, but it brought back memories of when there had been. Sal stepped up to the windows and adjusted the shutters, turning the bright day into a pleasant gloom inside.

For a while, Jack did nothing but sip his protein stuff, but he was starting to look a little livelier, a little clearer.

“I have to say one thing,” Jack said. “Your brand of compassion is among the weirdest I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean the handjob or that you still have all of your fingernails?”

Jack paused, either thinking about it or taken aback by the language. Surely not? “Both. Was that … what you wanted to do last night? When you touched me?”

Sal scoffed. “For starters, yeah.” He turned fully to face Jack and had to hold back from grabbing him, kissing him, making him squirm every way he knew how. He wanted to see that tight, defined, strong body take his cock, open up for him, and cling to him.

“Jesus.” Jack shook his head and laughed tonelessly. “That’s so … wrong. Everything about this is wrong.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your old-fashioned morality bullshit. I know you’re gay. You know I’m bisexual. I basically started our conversation with that.”

“‘Conversation’,” Jack echoed. “Right.”

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