Page 54 of Burn this City

Jack froze, as if caught. “I guess?”

Sal dried him with the bathrobe and enjoyed tying the belt in a loop that could easily be pulled open. Now, that would make sense. Unlike Enzo, Jack didn’t feel like a sub; that tendency to please was different, but he’d pushed for that handjob on the couch while giving himself over to the sensation. In a twisted way, he had to get something out of serving Andrea, who apparently was a bigoted asshole even to the one man he had to unconditionally trust. There were other dimensions to it, and they were somewhat obfuscated by Jack’s sheer inexperience.

“Nothing wrong with that. I like to serve others too.” Sal reached for the large towel he’d spotted earlier and began drying himself off. “During sex. I get off when my partner gets off.”

“Or you don’t … not when …” Jack gestured in the general direction of the living room.

“I’m no longer sixteen.” Sal grinned at him. “I also like delayed gratification and the build-up. I like fucking people’s minds as much as their bodies, but if I can do both …” He nodded slowly. “I’ll do both.”

“That’s a fact,” Jack said, and smiled, shaking his head, but he sobered visibly. “I still don’t have an answer for you.”

“Yeah, about that.” Sal set about dressing himself, while Jack stood there in his bathrobe and watched him. The decision was both hard and too easy—and he full well knew that while Jack might be open and honest with him right now, the man might regroup and convince himself of the exact opposite of what he professed now.

There was too much at stake for him to be resolved with two orgasms. Sal knew he could turn a lover inside out if he found the right buttons to press, and while Jack might be overwhelmed right now by everything that had happened during the past thirty or so hours, he was old enough to be set in his ways. He could easily return to old patterns.

Sal slipped on his boots and straightened. “Don’t get on my wrong side, Jack. You didn’t like being there, you won’t like it if you get back there, all right?”

Jack swallowed visibly. “You’re considering letting me go?”

“Looks like it.” Sal drew a deep breath and studied the man’s face. “I have to make calls, get ready. If you’re smart, you stay at home and wait until it’s over. But if not, I’ll tell my guys to not hurt you. That’s void if you raise your hand against any of them, understand?”

“I do.” Jack’s shoulders dropped first and then he sank down onto the rim of the Jacuzzi, but the tension around his eyes softened.

Sal pulled himself together. He couldn’t linger anymore, because otherwise he’d stay for the rest of the evening, and then the night, and after that, the cards would be reshuffled. “Got a burner phone?”

“In the car.”

“Great.” Sal gave him his number. “Remember that, if you need help.” He didn’t want to leave, but he took a couple backward steps.

“Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

Sal’s heart clenched; one of those things Catia would say, sometimes in jest, when he was pushing too far, sometimes deadly serious. Jack now sat there, deflated, or so relieved he couldn’t think clearly. “Same. If this doesn’t go as expected, you need to get out—leave the city, definitely get the fuck away from Andrea, hear me?”

“I will.”

And Sal believed him. He managed to turn around and strode back into the kitchen, where Enzo offered him a cup with very strong espresso.

“You good?” Enzo asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

29

On the way out of the house, Sal paused and briefly ran his fingers over the gleaming silver Porsche Cayman. Apparently he was giving it back after all. Could have been easy to take it “hostage”, as it were and slow Jack down a little longer. If the man was brave and stupid enough to leave the house and get involved, that is. Sal thought he’d given a strong enough warning, but there was no guarantee Jack would follow his orders.

“What are you thinking?”

“Pondering if I want one.”

Enzo shot him an ironic look. “Weird, I didn’t think silver was your type.”

“I don’t know. It’s classy, understated, fun to drive.”

Enzo huffed laughter. “And we’re no longer talking about the car.”

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