Page 33 of Mean Machine

“Really.” Nathaniel measured him with one of those far-too-perceptive glances. “Anything else?”

“Checking on you?”

“I’ve been doing research.” Nathaniel placed a hand on a pile of paper and leaned forward. “Researching your conviction and trying to find enough issues to build a case. It’s hard going.” He stared down at the paper. “It’s clear there was considerable pressure to have you convicted. Policemen usually protect their own. Edwards must have spent a lot of money and called in a lot of favours to have you exposed like that.”

Brooklyn shrugged. “I did kill his daughter.”

“Yes, you did, but it was an accident. It’s not enough to condemn you to that level of stewardship.”

Brooklyn felt tired. Something about that whole mess drained all strength from him and left only desperation. Maybe that was guilt. Regret. Shame. Those memories were the stuff of nightmares—often enough literally.

“Once I return to London, I’ll talk to Edwards.”

“And what are you going to tell him? ‘Sorry that boxer killed your daughter. Would you mind telling the judge you bribed the lot so he’d get convicted?’ Real strong case, that.”

“These things work a little more subtly,” Nathaniel scoffed. “But I can bring pressure to bear too. If I can show what he did or what was done to meddle with justice in your case, I’ll have enough to take it to the Court of Appeal.”

“Then you need a judge who loves you more than a fucking cabinet minister.” Brooklyn laughed.

“It can be done. And if it can be done, I can do it.” Nathaniel straightened and measured him again. The gaze said “don’t doubt me.” Challenge and invitation. Brooklyn was torn between the impulse to tell Nathaniel to go fuck himself and something else entirely.

He’d almost forgotten how sexy Nathaniel was when he knew what he wanted.

“And why do you want to get me out?”

“Because….” Nathaniel paused. “Many reasons, actually. Above all, I believe this life will destroy you.”

“That sounds very selfless.”

“No. Quite the contrary. It’s one of the most selfish things I’ve ever done.” Nathaniel exhaled and sat down. “I need to finish this. Dinner’s at seven if you want to join me.”

HE MADEan effort. The suit in his wardrobe was a not-so-subtle nudge. No tie, though. Just a shirt, buttons open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

Finding the dining room was no problem—dinner was served on the terrace.

Nathaniel looked up when Brooklyn stepped out, and Brooklyn noted with a faint tingle of pleasure how Nathaniel’s face, for a moment, gave away his hunger. For all his superior attitude, his control, Nathaniel couldn’t help the visceral effect Brooklyn had on him.

“Is this seat taken?” He placed a hand on the back of the chair. The table was laid for two, but Brooklyn wasn’t so sure Nathaniel had actually expected him to follow the invitation.

“Please. Feel free. I’m glad you could make it.” Nathaniel dropped his shoulders somewhat and seemed to relax.

“It was this or the Cubans.”

Nathaniel leaned back. “They must be providing adequate company.”

“They are.” Brooklyn nodded to a staffer pouring him iced water with lemon slices. The lemons grew here on the estate, alongside limes and oranges, and they tasted like nothing he’d ever bought in a supermarket. “But there’s only so much common ground.”

Nathaniel glanced up and held his gaze. Brooklyn almost started counting to pass the time. The staffer brought piles of steamed vegetables and grilled fish and cooked bulgur wheat. Brooklyn shovelled the food onto his plate.

“I’d have thought, maybe, that Rosario would be more interesting company.”

Jealousy? Brooklyn tried the fish, finished with a touch of butter and lemon juice and so fresh it fell apart the moment it touched his tongue. “I don’t get the feeling Rose prefers me over Em.”

In fact, the twins were inseparable, andthoseimages were enough to make Brooklyn sweat. He’d never particularly indulged in the twin kink, but the Cubans made him reconsider. “Hard to imagine there’s enough space for me between them, if you catch my meaning.” He winked.

Nathaniel exhaled. “I do.”

“So, why are you so on edge? Just the thought that I’m fucking one or both of the Cubans, or is there anything else?”

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