Page 83 of The Butterfly Killer

Mercer gave Burns a sweet smile that made his teeth ache. Mercer leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“For a straight man, you sure like to make questionable statements,” he mumbled against Burns’s flushed skin.

Burns kept his face neutral. There were eyes on them now, more so than ever.

He turned his head more inward into Mercer’s shoulder, seeking some kind of privacy as cameras were going off. “When this is over, I’m going to cut your fucking balls off.”

Mercer laughed. It was abrupt, a true laugh that was rare to get from him. He threw his head back.

Burns couldn’t keep his gaze from falling to the stretch of skin. Mercer’s warm cologne filled his nose. He breathed him in, not meaning to, but afterward, he couldn’tstopwanting to smell him.

He pulled away. The camera flashes were making his face hot. That was why he was feeling so weird about this.

“I’d like to see you try.”

It took a second for Burns to realize Mercer was talking about his ball-cutting-threat. He opened his mouth to tell Mercer to shut up, but nothing came out when he looked at Mercer. He cocked his head when he saw the gleam in Mercer’s eyes. The comment seemed a little too flirty. But Mercer couldn’t actually be flirting with him, could he?

“Mr. Mercer.”

Cortez was flanked by two of his men. He walked up to Mercer and Burns with a welcoming smile that didn’t fool anyone. Mercer stood up, looking not at all surprised by Cortez calling his name. It took a second longer for Burns to stand from his seat. The other guests were already mingling, taking photos and gathering into the next room where the afterparty was going to be held.

“Mr. Cortez,” Mercer said, giving a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Cortez appraised Mercer. “Have we met before?”

Burns really was going to be sick.

Mercer smiled. There was steel in his pearly whites that would make a shark faint. “We haven’t, but my father was a chairman of the board before he passed.”

Recognition flickered over Cortez’s face. “Benjamin Mercer. I see the resemblance now.”

There was a weird silent conversation happening between them that Burns couldn’t decipher. Why hadn’t Mercer lead with his father knowing Cortez in the first place? Burns would have to wring it out of him later. This again, only made it seem like Mercer wanted to do this pissing contest because he thought it was fun and not because it was necessary for the job.

Cortez’s eyes found Burns’s.

Mercer put his hand on Burns’s shoulder and pulled him forward. “My husband, Rhys.”

Cortez didn’t even pretend to not look disgusted. Burns raised a brow, but he wasn’t looking to pick a fight with a fucking mob boss.

It took a moment for Cortez to stop looking like he’d smelled shit. He flippantly ignored Burns and looked back at Mercer. Mercer was right again. Cortez didn’t care enough about proclivities.

Or perhaps Cortez was going to kill them later. Burns really couldn’t know for sure about anything. Body language could only tell you so much about a person. You couldn’t gauge their choices solely on it.

“I’m holding a private poker game tonight. I’d like to invite you. It’d be nice to get some fresh blood in the game.”

Cortez pulled a card from his jacket. He held it out with two fingers like he was scared to get gay cooties.

Mercer acted as if he didn’t see the disgust in Cortez’s body language. He was good playing oblivious too. It made Burns wonder what other emotions he was good at masking.

“I don’t know…my husband and I…” Mercer turned to Burns.

Burns knew exactly what he wanted. He placed his hand on Mercer’s chest and smiled endearingly. “Oh, I think our date tonight can wait.”

Mercer smiled back. “Maybe but we’ve been planning this for awhile…”

“Perhaps your husband can join us as well.” Cortez had to push the words through clenched teeth. He looked downward his nose at Burns. “If you know how to play, that is.”

Burns thought it was funny Cortez thought he didn’t know how to play. He was decent enough. He was sure he was much better than Mercer.

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