Page 70 of The Professional
Rourke laughed. He hoped it’d been a joke, but he never knew with Forrest. From what Rourke heard, Forrest had always been happy at the Virtue, but Rourke had seen how quickly feelings changed in businesses like this. “We can’t.”
“I could pack some Dolce shirts I have and then I’d be set to go,” Forrest teased.
“It doesn’t work that way, baby. They’d find us.” Rourke kissed the tip of his nose, which made Forrest scrunch it up.
“Says who?”
“Me. Like I told you, the Killough Company is a layered business. It hasemployeesyou’d never begin to imagine.”
“Like hitmen.”
“More than that.” Rourke traced Forrest’s eyebrow with a finger, paying particular attention to a bruise on his forehead. It looked like Forrest had been pushed into something sharp, maybe the corner of the bedframe. “I know you’rejoking, but I’d prefer you didn’t.”
The purse of his lips told Rourke he wasn’t completely joking, and that scared the hell out of him. “Is my room bugged? Because if you guys were getting off to me fucking my clients the entire time—”
Rourke grabbed Forrest’s face between his hands, careful not to touch any bruises or cuts too roughly. The contrast of dark red, drying blood on Forrest’s chin compared to his light skin became too much for Rourke. He didn’t want to see it. “We need to clean up your face. Come on.” Rourke helped Forrest off the bed and led him into the bathroom. “Can I take off your clothes? It might be best if you have a shower.”
“Aw, you’re asking for consent,” Forrest teased.
Rourke smiled. “Forrest, you might be a paid professional, but you are still entitled to make decisions about your body.”
“For the most part.”
He flinched. Technically the contract said the Killough Company owned Forrest until the end of the term, or until one of them broke said contract. Forrest wasn’t foolish enough to break it, though. What Forrest didn’t know was that if he did, he’d end up six feet under beside other bodies, regardless of his friendship with Conall. Sloan didn’t take prisoners.
“Take off my clothes,” Forrest said quietly.
Rourke took his time in peeling off the small amount of clothing Forrest wore. The mesh shirt came off first and then the tight pants that required a bit of extra tugging. Forrest needed to shimmy a few times to get them down his legs.
“Shower with me?”
Rourke smiled. “Okay, baby.” He took his own clothes off and turned on the shower faucet. He played with the temperature until he got it nice and warm before they both stepped under the spray. Rourke lathered up the sponge.
“Here, turn your back to me.” When Forrest did as he asked, Rourke slid the sponge over his shoulders and along his spine. Carpet burn chaffed the skin there, and anger swirled in the pit of Rourke’s belly again at the reminder of what Montague did. “That man is going to regret taking a step into this establishment.”
Forrest turned slowly and the blood washed away from his face and slipped down his body, pink-stained water swirling into the drain at their feet. He looked reasonably normal now, except for the bruises that seemed to darken more every minute. He leaned into Rourke, curling his arms around Rourke’s waist and burying his face into his neck. With their bodies flush together, it was hard for Rourke’s cock not to take notice. Even battered, Forrest’s body called to his.
“Thank you,” Forrest whispered against his ear. He caught Rourke’s lobe between his lips, sucking on it. “Thank you for protecting me.”
“Always.” Rourke held him gently, too afraid to hold him any tighter in case he touched a sore area of Forrest’s body. “Come on, let’s get you washed and dried. The doctor will be here soon.”
Rourke took his time taking care of Forrest. He helped him wash the rest of his body and then toweled off. Rourke squeezed toothpaste on a brush and handed it to Forrest once they were out of the shower, and while Forrest was brushing his teeth, Rourke wrapped a towel around his waist and went back to his own room to get new clothes. After that, he found the maids and told them to strip Forrest’s bed and put fresh linens on it. They informed him the doctor had arrived and he ordered them to take him to Forrest.
Terrance met him in the hallway. “What do you want us to do with Montague?”
“Leave him for me,” Rourke said, ignoring the wide eyed stare he received in answer. “I want to teach him a few lessons.”
“How is Forrest?”
“Sore and hurt. Ashamed. The doc’s with him now.” Rourke took a deep breath. “I need you to do a favor for me.”
“Anything.”
“I’m going to spend a few days with Forrest. He’ll need to heal, and I want to make sure he does so properly. I’ll need you to run the show. Cancel all of his appointments and remind the other professionals about our rules.Tellthem that abuse from clients is not accepted in the Virtue unless it’s signed off by both parties. Remind them that they’re what’s important to us, and if they’re having problems, they need to come to us.”
Terrance nodded, determination crossing his pale face. “I can do that.”
“Also, I need you to call Sloan and Conall. Let them know what’s happened and….” Rourke sighed. “Tell them I need to talk to them as soon as possible about a potential Diaz situation.”
