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he? Those episodes when he crumbled under the weight of his nightmares, when he took out the pain
on himself, watched the blood run down his wrist and drip off. He had been defined by it, but was he
still? He hadn t taken the razor to his flesh for a long, long time, but the scars remained, covered up
now by the soft fingerless gloves that reached up the middle of his arm. He only took off the gloves to
put on fresh ones.
Mateo hadn t even seen his scars, and Tommy didn t know if Pablo had mentioned that part when
he was sharing Tommy s life story. He damn sure wasn t about to broach the subject with Mateo.
Pablo had no right to tell Mateo anything, period. Tommy had spoken to him in confidence and his
former boss had broken it.
When are you supposed to go to work? Mateo asked. He pulled up in front of the rented house,
finding his way around without ever asking for directions.
Tommy shrugged at the question as Mateo cut the engine. I can go back anytime, but right now
I m not ready.
Mateo nodded but didn t speak. He was out the car and pulling Tommy s brand-new computer
from the backseat without waiting. Tommy exited on his side and rushed to open the front door of the
house to let him in. Mateo entered, arms full, and Tommy kicked the door closed.
Lock it. Mateo placed the computer down on the floor, next to the desk over in the corner of the
room. Always lock your doors, Tommy. He straightened and rolled his shoulders.
Tommy s mouth went dry. The movement instantly transported him back to Brooklyn, to that night
when he d laid his lips on Mateo s bare shoulder and the man had shivered. Shivered.
Pretend you re back in the old hood, Tommy.
Huh? Tommy blinked at him. What?
A small smile curved Mateo s lips as he strode over to Tommy, who did his best not to back up.
Goddamn the man and his overwhelming presence.
You re losing that Brooklyn toughness, Tommy. He tapped a finger to his own temple. That
hard-ass, protect myself at all cost mentality. You have to move the same way as you would back in
East New York with the dealers, addicts and gunmen on your stoop. He cupped Tommy s chin,
fingers calloused, rough and damn near orgasmic on his skin. Watch your back, son.
Tommy frowned before he remembered son was street slang, bandied about as another word for
friend or dude, same as duke .
I thought this was a safe place, he murmured, and Mateo nodded solemnly.
I know. Mateo dropped his gaze. What s that you re standing on?
Tommy looked down. A piece of square white paper was stuck to his sneakers. Dunno. He
picked it up. Looks like a postcard. But there were no pictures, one side was blank. Tommy flipped
it over.
Come to me or I will come for you.
Shit. He thrust it at Mateo and watched the other man s face grow calm as the promise of death
filled his eyes.
Looks like your boy has made his next move. Mateo nodded to himself. Get to work, kid.
Let s find him before he comes for you and I end him permanently.
Should we call the cops? Not that he wanted to, but maybe to keep a record or something?
And tell them what? Mateo asked. You got a postcard? You and I may know it s him but we
have no proof, and it looks to me that this town, or at least its police force, will not be looking for
any.
Right. Tommy was the outsider accusing a powerful man of serious stuff. Okay. His stomach
rumbled. But I require food.
Mateo grinned. I ll get the leftovers your girlfriend brought over yesterday. He walked toward
the kitchen. And look for anything you can find on that officer you told me about. Bitch bout to get
hers as well.
Sometime later, Tommy had his workspace up and running, and while Mateo took a shower and
Tommy tried to block out any image of the man naked and wet he ran some searches on Steven
Nayer and dug around for information on the female officer with the unconcealed hate for him in her
eyes.
He chewed on the cold sandwich, eyes glued to the computer screen. The doorbell rang, freezing
all movement. Taking a breath, Tommy looked at the door, pulse racing. Shit.
Tommy? Janine s voice. Tommy, it s me and Jay, are you okay?
Tommy heaved a massive sigh and stood. Still, before he opened up, he peeked out the window to
be on the safe side. He jerked the door open with a smile. Hi, guys. He waved them in.
Are you okay? Janine grabbed his arm after he closed the door and locked it. Where s the guy
from earlier?
Jay didn t touch him but he looked relieved to see Tommy in one piece. He stood by quietly as his
sister pelted Tommy with questions.
Did he hurt you? Why is he here?
I would never hurt Tommy.
They all three turned as one toward the rumbling voice.
Mateo stood in the archway leading to the bedrooms in only a pair of jeans slung so low, Tommy
could make out the short and curlies of his pubes. He swallowed. Shit. Water dripped off Mateo s
hair and ran down his tatted chest. Not an ounce of skin was visible under all the tattoos, red and blue
with some green and black. Words in Spanish and English, images all over him, both back and front.
The man was a walking body of art, so fucking gorgeous.
He made Tommy hungry, made him salivate. He wanted to lick Mateo all over, taste him like he
didn t get the chance to before.
Janine made a sound, a choked gasp. Tommy broke away from his perusal of Mateo and glanced
at Jay. The man s eyes were wide, his face red, but Tommy noticed he didn t look away from
Mateo s chest.
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