Page 8 of Chained
“Yes, that was a bad pickup line and I’m being socially inept, or yes, you’ve worked here a long time?” Brandt cocked his head and quirked his lips.
“A long time.”
“Ah. Do you like working for him?”
“He takes care of me.” That was a good way to remain loyal without actually lying.
Or so Edge thought, but then Brandt squinted thoughtfully at him. “My aunt took care of me too—even bought me that record player I mentioned—but that doesn’t mean I liked living with her.”
Instead of answering, Edge uncapped his bottle of water and took a swallow. But as soon as the liquid hit his mouth, he coughed in surprise. The cook had sent up the fancy stuff that the boss and his friends drank; Edge hadn’t realized how odd the bubbles would taste. With Brandt looking on with concern, Edge took a second, more cautious sip. No coughing this time. And the bubbles were… interesting.
Brandt, of course, drank his water smoothly. He did almost everything smoothly. He ate with elegance, even when it was only potato chips, and he moved his hands gracefully when he spoke. Sometimes when he wasn’t saying anything and wasn’t eating, he’d stroke his chin slowly with his thin fingers. What did his skin feel like? What would ittastelike, swiped with a tongue?
Edge realized he was staring and would have turned away, but Brandt raised his eyebrows and gave him a slow smile. The back of Edge’s neck felt hot, his heart beat faster, and his mouth went dry despite the water. He tried to calm himself as he emptied the bottle. The boss had basically ordered him to have sex with Brandt, so this obvious interest should have been a good thing. It’d make Edge’s job easier—and this wasn’t the first time he’d performed this particular task. But when the boss offered him up to potentials, Edge was simply a tool. Additional bait. He wasn’t supposed to be emotionally involved. But then, other potentials hadn’t invited him to lunch and conversed with him as if he actually mattered.
Dammit. All it took was a metaphorical scratch behind his ears and he’d turned into a fucking lapdog.
“You must meet a lot of famous people.”
Edge blinked. “What?”
“Celebrities. You must get to know a lot of them.” Brandt waved a hand toward the big house as if indicating the ghosts of past social events.
“I see some.”
“Hmm, see them but don’t get to know them, ’cause you’re security, not an agent like Whitaker. I get it. But at least you get to see ’em. I grew up in a little town in Wisconsin. Closest I got to seeing anyone famous was in fifth grade when the local weatherman came to do a presentation at my school. I’ve spied a few celebrities since I moved to LA, but….”
“You’ll meet movie stars at the boss’s parties.”
“Sure. And I’llbea movie star if I play my cards right.”
Edge nodded, then clenched his jaw tight.
Chapter Four
Terry didn’t know whether Edge was going to be an asset or an obstruction. So far he’d mostly proved a distraction—his grunted replies, his hard body, his soft eyes brimming with secrets—and that wasn’t good. There had been a connection between them, an almost tangible band of desire. Back in Terry’s clubbing days, if a man had looked at him the way Edge had, Terry would have dragged him to the nearest dark corner, alley, or bathroom stall, and they would have fucked their brains out.
But those days were long past, Whitaker’s estate wasn’t a dance club, and Edge had seemed to be struggling against his attraction to Terry.
Maybe Whitaker had ensnared Edge the same way the Bureau believed he was ensnaring would-be actors. The idea sickened Terry—more than it ought to, considering he’d just met Edge and knew nothing about him. Well, nothing other than that he wanted Terry and knew a lot more than he was willing to share.
All right. Give it time. Meanwhile, playing nice with Edge made sense logistically, and it wasn’t exactly a hardship.
After lunch Terry took a stroll around the grounds with Edge in tow. Apparently this didn’t count as poking around, and it was nothing more than getting, quite literally, the lay of the land. He saw the tennis courts, the little putting green, the statues scattered throughout. He admired the landscaping and the pool. He encountered a few other people during his explorations—gardeners, mostly—but they simply nodded and returned to their tasks after he greeted them. Other than Edge, the only ones who paid attention to Terry were the dogs, who watched him from various points along his walk. Each dog was always alone, but Terry was pretty sure he saw only two of them. Maybe the third was hanging out with Whitaker.
Terry felt more restless after the walk rather than less. When he returned to the guest house, he paused at the bottom of the stairs. “I think I want to use the gym.”
Edge stared at him expressionlessly.
“I wouldn’t mind a workout buddy. If you can, I mean. I don’t know what your job rules are.”
“I can exercise too.”
“Great! I’ll go change. I brought some shorts and stuff. How about you?”
“I have something.”
That wasn’t particularly enlightening, but very few of Edge’s statements were. He followed Terry up the stairs but stopped short of Terry’s room and opened the adjacent door. “I’ll get you when I’m ready,” Edge said.
