Page 28 of Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind
Tiberius took his private elevator down to the first floor, enjoying the tranquility of the place now that it wasn’t filled with writhing humans.
He paused at one of the massive aquariums and gazed at the assortment of sea creatures longingly. It had been too long since he had immersed himself in the salty depths, felt the cool glide of water over his skin, enjoyed the peace and serenity only found far beneath the waves. This afternoon, he would treat himself and Quintus to a brief but much-needed sojourn before the evening’s courting began in earnest.
“Quintus,” he said without turning around, “stop skulking. It is beneath you.”
“It is not, and you know it,” Quintus replied easily, stepping up beside him. “And my skulking, as you describe it, has served us both well.”
Tiberius couldn’t deny the claim. Quintus’s ability to melt into the shadows had revealed quite a few truths over the years, many of which had saved him from making grave errors in judgment. What people said to a prince’s face and what they said behind his back were often vastly different and, as Quintus had told him on multiple occasions, he was sometimes too naïve to sense a person’s true intentions.
If he had listened to Quintus’s warning about the Celusian princess, he wouldn’t have been found guilty of treason and exiled to Earth.
Then you wouldn’t have met your mate, a small voice in his head reminded him.
Well, there was that.
“I have been informed that someone named Drew comes with important news.”
“Drew?” Quintus furrowed his brow. “The cannabis merchant?”
“I suppose.”
Quintus frowned and looked as if he wanted to say more, but only nodded. “Very well. Let us hear what he has to say.”
They found Drew waiting in a plush, semicircular booth, being guarded by Gino, one of the daytime security staff. Drew’s gaze flicked left and right almost constantly. Beneath the table, his knee bounced up and down in quick, staccato movements.
“I thought cannabis had a calming effect,” Tiberius commented quietly.
“It does,” Quintus replied darkly, which meant whatever news Drew had brought, it was not good.
Tiberius and Quintus sat down, one on either side of Drew, effectively caging him between them.
“You have something you wish to tell us?” Tiberius asked.
“Yeah.” Drew looked at one, then the other, and swallowed. “Word is, Black Eagle isn’t too happy about so many of his peeps going missing.”
Tiberius inclined his head. “Black Eagle?”
“Yeah, man. Black Eagle.” Drew licked his lips. “As in, the Black Eagle that every pimp and dealer in the Golden Beach area gave seventy-five percent of their take to before you came along.”
“And ...?”
Drew blinked. “And... the dude is hardcore, man. He doesn’t like to share. If he’s coming to town, it’s not in a friendly way, feel me?”
“Ah,” Tiberius said, realization dawning. “You have come to warn us.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Why?” Quintus asked suddenly.
“Why?” Drew repeated, seeming confused.
“Yes, why? You do not strike me as a particularly selfless, giving soul. What is it you hope to gain in exchange for imparting such information?”
For a moment, the man looked offended by Quintus’s assessment. “Me? I don’t want nothing, man, except for you to remember who gave you a heads-up when shit gets real.”
“Shit is not real?” Tiberius murmured.
Quintus shot him a quelling look then turned back to Drew. “You are afraid of this Black Eagle?”
