Page 17 of The Professional
Sloan laughed. He must have heard Forrest’s outburst. “Bring Forrest, too, cancel his clients. This is important. We meet at ten, and we’ll have lunch after. Conall will be here.”
“We’ll be there, sir.”
“Goodnight, Rourke.”
“Sir.” Rourke ended the call and glanced back at Forrest. He’d curled up at some point with his eyes clenched closed tightly, cradling the bottle of bourbon in his arms at a weird angle, making the liquid slosh over his shirt. Rourke massaged his temple. “Well, fuck.”
He stood and sat the bottle up against the bricked chimney and hooked his arms beneath Forrest’s knees and back. He was lighter than Rourke expected when he lifted him. Carrying him down the stairs proved a little trickier. Conall popped his head out of his room when Rourke went past.
“Is he okay?” Conall raised dark eyebrows, his red collar stark against his pale skin. He didn’t have a shirt on, but with the heaters blasting at nearly eleven at night, he didn’t need to.
“Too much to drink,” Rourke answered truthfully, pausing in his trek to talk. It’d be rude not to.
“I thought, as per your new rules, whores aren’t allowed to get soused.” Conall’s eyes danced with mischief, and if he hadn’t been the boss’s pet, Rourke would have dropped Forrest on the ground just to give him the middle finger. “Will he be punished?”
He also needed to remind himself Conall washisnew boss. “If you deem it fit, sir.”
Conall leaned against the threshold of the door and crossed his arms. “I don’t. Forrest never gets drunk, there must be a reason.”
Rourke agreed.
“Off you go, get him to bed. He has a big day tomorrow, and we can’t have him tired for his clients.”
“Sloan has arranged a meeting tomorrow with the generals. Forrest and I will be there, so we’ll need to cancel his appointments.”
Surprise slid over Conall’s face, but he nodded. “Okay. Let Sam know to get to it straight away in the morning.”
Rourke tilted his head as a thank you and ignored Kieran’s narrowed gaze as he headed toward Forrest’s room. It wasn’t far from Conall’s, a few doors down on the opposite side, so when one of the guards came to open the door for Rourke, he smiled in thanks and went inside.
The door shut behind him just as he laid Forrest on the bed. He couldn’t sleep like this, not while covered in booze. He’d wake up smelling like the inside of an asshole.
“Forrest.” Rourke shook him gently, taking in the sweep of light eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks, right beside the even paler freckles that no one would know were there unless they’d been this close to him. His blond hair was a messy halo on his head.
Forrest’s green eyes stared dazedly up at him. “Hello.”
“Come on, we need to get you into the shower.” Rourke made sure to put some authority in his voice.
Forrest exhaled loudly and then smiled. “Do I have to, Daddy sir?”
Rourke chuckled, but in his current condition, Forrest probably didn’t hear it. “Don’t call me that. Come on, get up.”
Rourke curled an arm around his back and directed him to the shower. Together they made it to the elegant bathroom that any other whore would die for, and Rourke helped him get rid of his clothes, leaving Forrest naked, with inches of pale naked flesh teasing Rourke until his traitorous cock twitched in his underwear again.
Rourke had seen Forrest naked before, he’d seen all the whores naked because a provocateur needed to know about his product, so he immediately noticed the small, brown bruises that dotted across Forrest’s torso, back, and hips. There weren’t a lot but they were big enough to be suspicious. The marks were in the newly bruising stages, his pale skin darkening in the shapes of fingertips.
“Where did you get those?” He touched a bruise on Forrest’s hipbone that had purpled and spread in size faster than the rest.
Forrest chased away his hand and shook his head. “Nope. Nope. Can’t tell.”
Concern made Rourke’s chest tighten. Rules were in place to keep their whores safe, and if someone was physically hurting Forrest—
Forrest leaned over to kiss him, but Rourke placed his hand over his mouth, getting a whine of disappointment in response. “Rourkeeee.”
“Where did you get those bruises, Forrest?”
“I didn’t.” The response made no sense, but Forrest spun on his heel to head to the shower, nearly toppling over.
Rourke managed to get Forrest into the glass cubicle, but he could barely stand, so Rourke needed to get in there with him which meant his own clothes came off. He made sure to keep his underwear on, though, because he didn’t want to risk more temptation. Forrest smiled at him when he stepped into the shower.
