“Drake, you sure you don’t wanna have a go at him?” Pyro asked, But Drake, distrustful as he was, only shook his head.
“I’m good. Just make sure he’s clean, or I’m not letting him back into the van.”
Boar groaned, still rubbing Clover with his beard as they lay sprawled on the sofa. “Way to ruin the atmosphere.”
“Atmosphere of what? You just banged him. There’s hardly anything to it in terms of atmosphere. Maybe you should light some candles next time.”
Boar sighed and put his hand on Clover’s ass, petting it gently. “Don’t listen to him.”
Clover snorted, hiding his face in Boar’s beard. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have a heart, so he doesn’t get it.”
Pyro laughed but Tank shook his head. “Clover. Disrespect, remember?”
Drake stepped closer, baring his teeth. “Maybe I should spank him next.”
Clover squealed and hugged Boar with all his limbs. It was good to see him back in high spirits.
Tank patted Drake’s shoulders. “I’m sure it won’t be necessary, will it?”
Clover winked at him. “It won’t, Daddy.”
Tank took a deep breath, for a moment just staring at the flushed face. “If there are highly skilled people after Clover, he needs to be supervised at all times, understood? He’ll be sleeping with me, and he is not to be out of sight.”
“Even when I go pee?” Clover asked, with a silly grin.
“Especially when you go pee,” Pyro said.
Clover’s gaze softened, and he curled up in Boar’s arms. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Whenever you’re ready, Boar will heat you some water. We’ll find a better place to stay tomorrow, but tonight, it is what it is.”
Boar took his time, still stroking Clover’s back, his eyes fixed on the pretty face. At this rate, he’d be sulking for weeks once they parted from Clover in New York. “Maybe he could sleep with me and Pyro tonight?”
Tank raised his eyebrows. “I have a double sleeping bag, you guys barely fit into yours together.”
Drake tut-tutted. “Trouble in polyamorous paradise?”
Pyro made a rapid move with his arm, sending a jet of beer from his bottle straight into Drake’s face. It splashed the front of his T-shirt too and made some of the fine hair around Drake’s face stick to his forehead. He blinked, hand shaking slightly, all too close to the belt where he kept some of his knives.
Tank stood. “Won’t you two stop? We need to eat something, and I can’t be bothered to clean up blood tonight.”
Pyro scowled. “He shouldn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong then, or it’s gonna fall off.”
Drake cocked his head. “Is that a threat?”
Tank had had enough bullshit for one evening, so he grabbed Drake by the arm and physically removed him from the argument for a chat in a far-away part of the warehouse.
“We need to stay put for a while. Can you call your Wyoming guy about a house for us? You can promise to do some bondage with him as incentive.”
Drake’s lips thinned. For a moment, he looked like he might want to say something adverse, but in the end he just shook his head. “Yeah, fine.”
Tank exhaled his relief. “Good.”
Drake met his gaze then, grabbing Tank’s arm and pulling him toward the vehicles. He only let go once they hid behind the van. “Since when are we a charity?”
Tank smirked. “I’d say he’s pulling his weight.”
Drake’s shoulders sagged. “Seriously?”
“Okay, let’s be serious then. If you hate the boy so much, why didn’t you just let them take him and be done with it?”
Drake’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t trust him. That doesn’t mean I want him to die,” he said through his teeth.
“But he will die if we don’t escort him. Should I have left you when we met, just because you didn’t exactly inspire my trust? Because you didn’t at the time.”
Hard truths weren’t what Drake wanted to hear, but it was what he needed. When they had met seven years ago, Drake was a twenty-year-old smart ass with a chip on his shoulder and a lack of discipline, despite his natural talent for fighting. Or maybe he was so good because he didn’t care about the possibility of death. Either way, Tank had seen potential, so he’d agreed to take Drake under his wing and polish that diamond. There weren’t many gay guys in their profession, so he appreciated the camaraderie, even if they weren’t exactly compatible for anything but that.
He’d even managed to curb the smart-assery. The chip on the shoulder was much more difficult to get rid of.
Drake huffed and crossed his arms on his chest. “He has no skills, and a big mouth.”
Tank groaned. “We don’t know what skills he’s got. Either way, stop denying your own dick. I saw you watching him.”
Drake’s flush darkened, though he wouldn’t meet Tank’s gaze. Clearly in denial, then.
“My dick’s just fine in my pants. And I’ll be watching him, because I’m telling you, he will do something stupid and endanger us all. And for what? Because he’s a pretty piece of ass?”