Page 18 of Deadly Hands

That was not what Reuben wanted to discuss. Not after a week of careful distance since that passionate exchange in Nikon’s office. The memory of it burned in his thoughts, buthe held back the words that threatened to spill out–uncertain whether Nikon would be receptive to addressing what had transpired between them.

Reuben’s fingers tightened around the stem of his wineglass, but he forced them to relax. He turned slightly, making the movement casual as he’d been taught.

“Three men at the bar. The one in the grey suit has been nursing the same scotch for twenty minutes. His shoes are government issue beneath expensive tailoring.”

“Good. What else?”

The praise shouldn’t have warmed him, and he definitely shouldn’t have caught himself thinking, with a mixture of amusement and dismay, that he might be developing a praise kink. “The couple in the corner booth - she’s wearing four-hundred-dollar shoes with a thousand-dollar dress. New money trying to look old. He keeps checking his phone under the table.”

“And what does that tell you?” Nikon’s voice dropped lower, intimate. His hand moved across the white tablecloth, not quite touching Reuben’s but close enough to feel the heat of his skin.

Reuben’s pulse quickened. He forced his attention back to the couple. “She’s arm candy, probably paid to be here. He’s waiting for something. A signal maybe.”

“You’re learning.” Nikon’s fingers brushed his wrist, a touch so light it might have been accidental. “Now, the real lesson. How would you approach him if you needed information?”

“I wouldn’t.” Reuben leaned back in his chair, letting his shoulders fall into the loose, easy posture he’d perfected at high-stakes tables. His lips curled into the faintest smirk as he toyed with his wine glass. “I’d wait for him to approach me.”

Reuben paused, eyes flickering to the man’s restless movements, the way he kept glancing around the room between sips of his drink. “At the poker table, men like that can’t help themselves. They see someone they think matters, someonewith real stakes behind them...” He shrugged one shoulder, a deliberately casual gesture. “They’ll trip over themselves trying to prove they belong in the same game.”

A slight smile curved Nikon’s lips. “Very good. You’re starting to think like- “

Movement at the entrance caught Reuben’s attention. His heart stuttered as he recognized the figure being quietly escorted through the restaurant.

Corey.

But not the Corey he remembered. This version was thinner, haunted, missing his right hand. The expensive clothes hung loose on his frame, and his once-confident stride had become a careful walk, like someone who had learned the hard way to watch for threats.

Nikon’s expression hadn’t changed, but tension radiated from him now. His hand withdrew from the tablecloth as he sat back, authority settling around him like a cloak. His eyes tracked Reuben’s reaction, studying how quickly he’d spotted their unexpected guest.

“You saw him first.” Nikon’s voice was soft, almost approving. His gaze never left Reuben’s face as he gestured toward Corey’s approaching figure. “Tell me what else you notice about our friend.”

Reuben swallowed. “He’s scared. Not just of you - of everyone. He keeps his left side to the wall, protecting his remaining hand. The jacket’s new but he didn’t pick it out himself.” His voice caught. “Someone wanted him to look presentable for this meeting.”

“And?”

“And you knew he was coming. This whole dinner was- ” Reuben cut himself off, the warmth of the wine turning sour in his stomach. “Was any of this real?”

Something flickered in Nikon’s eyes - too quick to read, gone before Reuben could analyze it. A slight gesture of his hand sent the security team moving, clearing a path for Corey to approach their table while maintaining sight lines at every entrance.

“Mr. Sebastian.” Nikon’s voice carried just enough for nearby tables to hear, establishing the formal tone. “You have information for me?”

Corey’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes, sir. If I could...” His eyes darted to Reuben, then quickly away. “Privately?”

“Reuben stays.” The words cut through the air like a blade through silk. “Upstairs. My office.”

The walk to Nikon’s private elevator felt endless. Reuben watched Corey’s shoulders hunch with each step, noticed how he kept glancing at the security cameras.

Nikon’s office was exactly as Reuben remembered from last week. The kiss had happened right there, against that desk where Nikon had pressed him back against the polished wood. He pushed the memory away as Nikon moved to that same desk, the wood’s surface between them like a shield.

“Wait here.” Nikon lifted his phone. “There’s a call I need to take. Don’t leave the room.”

They remained standing while Nikon strode out. The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow carried more weight than a slam.

Corey sagged against the wall. “Jesus, Reuben. You look... good. Really good.”

“And you look like hell.” The words came out harsher than intended. Reuben ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tell he thought he’d trained himself out of. “What happened to you?”

“Besides this?” Corey raised his stump with a bitter laugh. “Could’ve been worse. Nikon actually saved my life, you know. Andrey wanted...” He shuddered. “Let’s just say losing the hand was the better option.”

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