Kitt Devlin wasn’t involved in any way, but he fled the scene. He did, however, stay around long enough for the other participants to see him. He called 911 from another location but refused to tick around and talk to the police. When detectives recovered the footage of the shooting from the incident, however, they identified the third vehicle by its license plate and requested Kitt’s cooperation in testifying to what he witnessed. Kitt refused and when they insisted…he refused again. A warrant was issued for him to be taken into involuntary protective custody until a trial could be scheduled.

And then Kitt Devlin ran. It was such a juvenile, stupid thing to do, it was almost breathtaking.

Just then, Kitt got up unexpectedly and sauntered over to the old-fashioned looking jukebox in the corner. It was actually a new machine, just made to look retro. I hadn’t seen a jukebox, new or old, in years, but it fit in with the country western vibe of this place. He leaned over it, studying the selections, I guess. He was wearing a denim jacket and sinfully tight jeans, ripped across the thighs. I sat back and admired the way helooked, and I wasn’t the only one. He was lithe and slim and sexy, and though I considered myself to be mostly bi, there were times when only someone like Kitt would do. Not that I could do anything about it, except admire the way he looked. Not ethically, anyway—but I’d done a lot worse for a lot less.

I justified my interest to myself by thinking it was okay to look at him, as long as that’s all I did. I needed a bit of kink to really get me going anyway. Not whips and chains or anything so dramatic. That was rare and it took the right kind of guy—someone who actually got off on that. But spanking some cute little ass or dominating my partner a little if he enjoyed it and needed it—I could get into that. Unfortunately for me, Kitt seemed to fit that bill nicely. He was definitely a bottom and almost certainly a brat, if I were any judge.

I got up and walked over next to him before somebody else did, leaning against the jukebox and showing off his assets like he was.

“You look a little young to be in this bar.”

He glanced over at me and started to say something smartass and sarcastic—I could see it trembling on his pretty mouth—but then his eyes widened as he got a good look at me, and he let his gaze run up and down my body.

“What’s it to ya?” he asked, but he let a little smile play around his lips and even batted his lush eyelashes a little to show me he wasn’t mad about it.

“Well, I was just wondering if you knew what kind of place this is. Let me clue you in, just in case you wandered in off the street and didn’t know. This is a gay bar, though it’s not getting a lot of action in that regard tonight. Normally, guys come to a place like this to meet up with and fuck other guys.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware.” He toasted me with his glass. “I didn’t just come in here for the drinks.”

I nodded and plucked the glass out of his hand, putting it on top of the jukebox as an old Conway Twitty song, “Hello, Darlin,’” came on.

“Prove it. Dance with me.”

Kitt’s eyes widened, and he looked around the place—no one else was dancing.

“Are you kidding? No one else is doing that. We might look stupid.”

“So what? Do you only do what other people are doing?”

He gave me a reckless grin, and his eyes lit up. “No, I don’t, now that you mention it. Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the tiny dance floor, but then he didn’t seem to know what to do once he got there. He held out a hand to me like he expected to lead, but I grinned again, grabbed his hand and tucked it behind his waist, while I pulled him so close he had to tip his head back to look up at me. He had no choice but to awkwardly put his free hand on my shoulder.

I began to move him around the tiny dance floor to the sad old song Conway was warbling, holding Kitt tight against me and enjoying myself probably way too much. I could feel the sweet lines of his body all up and down my own. His breath was warm against my throat, and though at first, he wasn’t doing much more than swaying a little to the music, I added a few fancier steps, and he tried his best to follow me. He looked down at his feet, though, so to keep him from it and keep him off-center, I whirled him around a few times until he was breathless and dizzy and holding onto me for dear life.

I hadn’t shaved since early that morning, so my beard scratched along his smooth cheek as I held him close and bent even closer to him. He looked up at me with a slightly confused expression, and I knew he was beginning to wonder if he’d gotten in over his head. His sweet submissive nature was comingout a little as we danced, and I was feeling it a little too much myself, actually, so I put a little distance between us, by twirling him out away from me and then reeling him back in. He drew in a sharp breath and threw his arms around my neck as I dipped him way down toward the floor. The music stopped, and he pushed at my chest to get me to let go of him. I set him back on his feet and pretended not to notice how unsteady he was.

“Thanks,” he said, looking a little pale. “But I think I’m probably done. Too much to drink, I guess. I’m going to sit down for a little while.” He stood there awkwardly a moment before giving me a slight smile. “Is that okay?”

There was that submissive nature showing itself again.

“Of course. Thanks for the dance, sweetheart.”

He blushed, as he grabbed his drink again and scooted quickly back over to his table.

I took a seat at a table nearby after a minute or two, not looking at him, because I could feel his gaze on me. I think he sensed something, and I made him nervous. I didn’t want him to get so nervous that he thought I was stalking him, so I pretended to ignore him.

He picked up his glass and threw back the contents remaining in it with a snap of his head. His hair shone as black as midnight in the light and his face was really gorgeous.

Not two minutes later, some guy came over and asked him to dance. Kitt laughed at something he said, and I noticed how infectious his laugh was. The guy who asked him was a tall drink of water, wearing jeans and a damn cowboy hat and boots. Then again, this was New Mexico. Kitt got up to go with him to the dance floor, and I felt a jolt of possessive jealousy.

The “cowboy” he was dancing with was showing him some kind of complicated line dance shit. Kitt hooked his thumbs in his belt loops like the guy showed him and started trying to follow what he did. It was cute as hell, and I thought again thathe was way too young for me. I also noticed that he had begun to stumble a little, and I knew he was drunk on his ass. I still wanted him with a fierceness that shocked me.

He took off his damn shirt then and tied it around his waist, showing off a luscious, tanned body that looked strong and a little muscular, like he worked out a little. The cowboy gave him a sip of his beer that spilled and ran down the strong column of his throat onto his chest. The cowboy laughed and leaned over to lick it and that did it for me. I got up and went over there, grabbing his arm.

“I think this is my dance,” I told Kitt, and he looked up at me in confusion.

“Oh, hi. Did you want to join us? It’s a line dance, so you can if you like.”