Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(24)

No, no, no, Tony thought, not feeling that at all. Hoping it was enough for politeness, he nodded very slightly and looked away. My, how fascinating the foam in his beer glass was. He could stare at it all night.

The man on his other side bumped his elbow, almost triggering his fight response. "And then I told him if that's a genuine Rolex, I'm Brad Effing Goddamned Pitt."

Whoever the stranger spoke to laughed like a hyena.

Fuck, Tony thought. He couldn't do this. These so were not his people.

"The first visit is the hardest," the bartender said.

Tony hadn't heard him return. He looked up from his beer into black-as-a-black-hole eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have, but he blurted a confession. "I don't think I'll find someone I like in a place like this."

The part-demon's smile was a flicker of broad thin lips. "Don't assume. Corporate a-holes and leather posers are people too."

Tony laughed, because he was right. The bartender moved away, but the burst of shared humor had relaxed his taut spine a notch. He'd stay an hour, he decided, and take it slow like the werefox said.

Every journey, however excruciating, began with a single step.

~

Two and a half hours later, Tony fell into bed alone. More or less sober, he was thankfully tired enough to sleep. Though he'd stuck with it, his exchanges with the bartender and the host turned out to be the highlight of his bar adventure. A couple men had approached him, but he hadn't been tempted to encourage their overtures. That had troubled him a bit. What if he never found a partner he liked as much as Chris? What if the only gay bar he'd found kicked him out for being too picky? Worst of all, what if he settled and was sorry?

Miraculously, he didn't dream of his lost fireman, or not that he remembered.

Morning--or pre-morning, because their squad was on early shift--came way too soon. Tony's big brother lived one floor above him in the historic brownstone they owned together with their alpha. Rick called him at half past three to make sure he was up. He'd done that a lot since Tony's big announcement, as if being gay had erased a decade's worth of birthdays and a few IQ points. Tony was thirty-five, not stupid, and not a baby--even if shifters aged slowly.

"I'll drive you in," Rick said.

Of course you will, Tony thought grumpily.

To be fair, he didn't totally mind. Not driving that damn early was easier. Too, after the night he'd had, he looked forward to being with his brother. Ass or not, Rick was his comfort zone.

He reminded himself of that as he wolfed down breakfast and dressed for work. He almost let the brownstone's street door slam behind him, but stopped at the last minute. Ari was human and could sleep through a lot of noise. Her and Adam's daughter Kelsey had baby shifter ears. Not waking her made life easier on the entire pack.

Rick hadn't forgotten. Though they were three floors down and outside, he shut the driver's side door as gently as possible.

"God, I need more coffee," Tony grumbled as Rick rolled out and turned onto Saltpeter.


River Heights--their solidly blue-collar, largely cop neighborhood--was dead at this hour. The shifters and other folks who resided here were safely tucked in bed. Sadly, Rick and Tony had nowhere to make a caffeine stop. The local restaurants and corner groceries were shuttered.

Tony wondered how soundly Chris Savoy was sleeping.

That train of thought annoyed him. His trip to the stupid bar had been about forgetting the hot tiger. Frowning, he pulled his long legs up between the dash and him. Rick's stodgy gray Buick was used this treatment. Two shiny patches marked the ledge above the glove compartment. Maybe Tony should have been a cat. Sometimes he liked having walls on more than one side of him. Maybe he'd have enjoyed curling up in a cardboard box.

His left ear prickled, warning him his big brother was staring.

"Do I have Faerie O's in my hair?"

"What?" Rick asked, startled by the question.

"You're staring at me."

The prickling stopped, so Rick must have looked away. Good thing, considering he was driving. "I just wondered," he said. "You were out late last night."

Tony did not want to recap his experience. "I went to a bar."

"And?" Rick prompted, ignoring his please-let-this-drop signals. Tony lost his patience.

"And what?" he snapped. "I'm not hung over. It's four in the frick a.m. You want sprightly, you need a sprite for a brother."

Rick laughed and shot another glance at him. "I'm trying to ask if you met someone nice."

Was this what Tony was in for while his brother adjusted to his gayness? Being pestered about his romantic life like Rick was his mother?

"You haven't had a date since you came out," Rick explained.

"That you know of," Tony retorted. His cheeks were a few degrees hotter than he wanted them to be. To compensate, he glared at the dirty rain spots on the windshield.

"Have you been dating?" Rick persisted.

Jesus, Tony thought but didn't say. Did getting blown in a gardener's shed count as a social life?

"Tony--"

"You know," Tony cut him off. "If you were getting laid yourself, you wouldn't worry so much about my sex life."

This was true but a low blow. His brother's dating record was worse than his lately. Tony would have felt guiltier about the dig if it had actually shut Rick up. His brother's hands shifted on the steering wheel. "You could tell me if you met someone special."