Page 32 of Wrecked

Whoa…shut that off right the hell now, he silently scolded himself. There was no way he was getting involved with Crow.

He looked away.

But the idea that they could be something more just wouldn’t quit.

Rebel was a stunner.

The young man had the looks and body of a runway model, but not the height.

Crow’s hands itched to touch, so he tucked them into the pockets of his coat. Rebel walked up to him and Crow grabbed the wool coat he’d bought the man. Holding out the heavy wool, Rebel slid his arms inside.

“Are you hungry?” Crow smoothed the coat over Rebel’s shoulders. It was a perfect fit and looked sexy as hell.

“I’m starving.”

Crow drew Rebel out of the store and onto the street. “There’s tons of places to eat.”

With a full belly, Rebel stood inside the Griffith Observatory gazing up at the massive mythology of the sky mural on theceiling before looking at the murals on the walls that were paintings of the sciences, engineering, and time.

A Foucault Pendulum hung from a wire down from the ceiling and swung back and forth across the floor below.

The young man gazed over the edge of the retaining wall and down at the pendulum for several minutes.

The fall of dark curls had Crow itching to brush it back, but he couldn’t drag his eyes from Rebel’s face.

Rebel seemed to find it fascinating that the pendulum would swing along and knock over pegs below.

“It’s designed to show that the earth is turning in real-time,” Crow said and Rebel flashed him a quick smile.

Crow touched the young man’s arm and drew him through the rest of the museum before leading Rebel outside.

“What night of the week does Jimmy Lincoln go to the club?” he asked, guiding Rebel with a hand at his back to the curb. There, Crow ordered a car to take them back to the hotel.

“Fridays.”

“So, tomorrow night,” Crow murmured and slid into the back seat of the car after crowding Rebel to scoot over.

“Yeah. I should probably call the house and let him know I’ll be at the club tomorrow,” Rebel said, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“I doubt he knows you didn’t get the money from that couple,” Crow said. “But just in case, let’s get the cash to give him at the club. That will give you an excuse to find him there.”

“True…but that’s a lot of money.”

“How much?”

“Two thousand dollars.”

Crow wanted to laugh.

If he broke down the money he earned with each job he took, it would equal way more than two thousand an hour. Add thatup, plus his inheritance from his grandfather, and he had a lot of fucking money.

Crow kept the thought to himself, though. There was no sense in stating the obvious. Rebel had to know that assassins made bank. Even the week Rebel had worked for Erebus, the guy should have come away with several grand.

Crow sent Real a text message to get him background and any information available on Jimmy Lincoln.

“What kind of jobs did you take with Erebus?” he asked, tucking his phone away.

“I didn’t.”

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