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“Everything is going to be fine,” Zach said to Tristan.

Bull said something Harry didn’t catch, but from the way he headed toward the front door, Harry knew he was in full “head of security” mode once again. Harry told the guys to have fun and worked his way around the edge of the writhing dance floor to the bar.

“How are things going?” Harry asked Rodney, one of the bartenders. Rodney always had a ready smile for him. Harry knew the hot guy had a thing for him. In fact, he and Rodney had gone home together once, after a particularly long night. It had just been the one time, and while Rodney was sex on wheels with the way he looked in his skintight black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to accentuate his cannonball shoulders and had to beat the guys off on a nightly basis, there hadn’t been anything between them other than sex. Harry was also keenly aware of the dangers of becoming involved with someone he worked with, so he’d backed off as carefully as he could.

“Business is good,” Rodney said in his James Earl Jones voice. That alone got almost as many guys as his looks. Harry had seen guys go breathless when Rodney spoke to them. “We’re going to need more of the orange vodka.” He didn’t stop working as he talked, hands continuing to mix drinks.

“There’s some more in the back.” Harry paused. “Wasn’t the bar stocked properly?”

“It was, but there’s been a run on the stuff. Don’t know why.” Rodney continued working, and Harry stepped back from the bar. He saw Chris, one of the bouncers, and asked him if he’d bring a few bottles out from the back. He nodded and hurried to do what Harry asked. Harry left the club floor, and as soon as the door closed behind him, shutting out most of the music, he leaned against the wall in the hallway, taking a deep breath, letting his ears adjust to the noise level.

“You okay?” Chris asked as he hurried past with a bottle of orange vodka in each hand.

“I’m good,” Harry said, forcing a smile. He pushed away from the wall and walked into the office, then closed the door. The beat of the music permeated this far, but that was all. He sat down with a sigh and glanced up at the security monitors that lined the wall in front of him. He scanned the screens, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t see anything and forced his attention onto the mountain of work that waited for him.

His brain refused to settle, and Harry once again looked at the camera monitors. This time movement caught his eye. He used his keyboard to zoom in, and his breath caught. The guys were dancing. That in itself wasn’t unusual. What had caught his attention was Tristan and the way he seemed to have let go. He threw his entire body into the dance, gracefully moving from one step to the other. Harry wanted to hear what Tristan was dancing to and turned up the volume on the computer, tuning it to the club music system. Instantly Harry was transported and wished he were on the floor, that Tristan was dancing like that for him. Harry was mesmerized. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, staring at the screen. He’d seen Tristan dance before, but there was something different in the way he moved tonight. Maybe he was working out his frustrations? Whatever it was, Tristan was stunning, and not just to Harry. The other guys on the floor were definitely taking notice. Harry watched as guy after guy moved into Tristan’s sphere of influence.

Tristan danced with the guys but didn’t show a particular interest in any of them. Zach moved into view, dancing with Tristan, and Tristan’s movements became even more fluid and relaxed.

“Harry,” Bull said from the doorway. “Something wrong?”

Harry snapped his attention away from the screen and turned down the volume, embarrassed that he’d been so engrossed in watching Tristan that he’d ignored everything. He hadn’t even heard Bull come in.

“No,” he answered too quickly. He saw Bull shift his gaze to the monitors, and instantly he felt like some lecherous voyeur with Tristan still front and center on the uppermost monitor.

Bull shook his head. “You need to stop mooning over that kid and do something about it. You’ll go home with some nameless kid at the end of the night because you don’t want to be alone, but you won’t talk to the guy you’ve been interested in for months.” Bull shook his bald head.

“Did you need something, or did you just come in here to give me grief?” Harry sounded a lot bitchier than he meant to.

“Giving you grief was reason enough, but the men at the front door are telling me they’re finding a lot of substances tonight. That hasn’t happened in a while. I’m going to make my presence known out front. I wanted you to know in case something came up.”

“Great,” Harry said. “Is it a full moon or something?” It was only a Wednesday. If this kept up, by Saturday they would be running their asses off.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to put a stop to it.” Bull turned and left the office, closing the door more forcefully than necessary. Harry returned his attention to the screen, but Tristan wasn’t in it any longer, just the general crush of shirtless men, pressed close together. Normally that was a channel he didn’t mind watching for hours, but tonight it only served to remind him how fucking lonely and empty his life was. Actually, if he were honest, he had no life. There was the club, and he spent way too many hours here. When he left, he usually went home, most often alone, unless he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then he did stupid things like taking Rodney with him and opening himself and the club up to major problems if things turned sour.

Pushing all that baggage away, Harry returned his attention to the invoices on his desk and began the process of paying the bills that kept the club running.

After working for an hour, he couldn’t take any more. Harry closed his books. At least he’d managed to get things caught up to the point where he could finish tomorrow before opening, when he could think and wasn’t distracted. Harry shifted the camera slightly and whistled. Those two were brazen as hell. Harry watched for a few seconds as two men made out hard at one of the tables. There was nothing wrong with that. A sizzling hot atmosphere was what kept the boys coming back. But when he saw skin and fingers getting busy in laps, followed by…. “Damn,” Harry whispered, swallowing hard. These two were on fire. Harry picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial for Bull.

“What is it?”

“We got a pair about to explode in the corner booth. They’re putting on quite a show.” Harry waited a second.

“I see them,” Bull said and hung up. There was nothing wrong with getting your freak on—Harry believed in doing that regularly—but with that sort of behavior, the club could get into trouble. Liquor licenses were hard as hell to get in Pennsylvania, and the local liquor control board could make money reselling a license that had been revoked, especially from a gay club. Those prudes would love nothing more.

Harry saw Bull approach the table, and the men hastily tried to make themselves look respectable, or at least so that they were no longer hanging out of their pants. He stood up and decided to get out of the office. He made sure everything sensitive was locked away in the file cabinet, cleared his desk, left his office and securely locked the door behind him, then walked back toward the club floor.

He wasn’t as huge or imposing as Bull, but Harry knew an additional set of eyes on a night when everyone seemed a little crazy was a good thing. He opened the door and stepped out into the club.

The place was buzzing, that was for sure. Sexual energy seemed to radiate from everywhere. Maybe it was the weather. Outside it was raining, and that added humidity made the air in the club feel even more close than usual. It was also warm, and the boys had taken advantage of that by removing shirts and basically stripping down to as little as they thought they could get away with. The dance floor looking like a writhing sea of flesh, and Harry wasn’t immune to the pull.

Harry stepped back into the office area and turned the air-conditioning down one degree. That would cool things off slightly and hopefully avoid someone collapsing from heat exhaustion. Back on the club floor, he felt the cool air begin to move through the club, but it did little to curb anyone’s enthusiasm, nor did it lessen the line to get at the bar. Harry made his way around the edge and took up a vantage point near the rear of the club, watching the crowd and keeping an eye on the back tables. If anyone was going to try anything, it would probably be there.

“Edgy tonight,” Chris said as he stopped for a second. Harry liked him. He was strong as an ox, observant, and smart—one of those natural-born students of human nature.

“Tell me about it,” Harry commented. “The guys are out in full force, and they’re having the time of their lives.”

“Maybe they’re getting warmed up for tomorrow,” Chris said. “The dancers always pack them in and get them riled up beyond belief.”

Harry had thought of canceling the exotic dancers, but the uproar at the rumor had put an end to that notion. Years before, he and Bull had brought in the strippers to increase traffic on Thursdays and kick-start the weekend on a night that wasn’t otherwise busy. The program had been a huge success, to the point where it was almost more trouble than it was worth. “Yeah. You’d think they’d been on tonight.” Harry motioned toward one of the tables with his head, and Chris took off to handle the problem.

He’d gone back to watching the crowd when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. The screen showed a text message:
He’s back
. It took Harry a second to figure out what Bull meant, and then it hit him: Carlos. He began making his way toward the door, keeping his phone out in case Bull needed anything.

Bull must have sent a group text, because Spook texted right back,
I’m on it
. That man could disappear into a crowd faster than anyone Harry had ever met. He hadn’t seen him all night and had, in fact, forgotten he was there. Spook was a most unlikely employee—a former colleague of Bull’s turned fixer for hire. When he’d decided to leave that life behind, he’d approached Bull for help.

As Harry wove through the crowd and got closer to the door, he saw Carlos inside the club with two of his men, and Bull right behind him. By the look on his face, it seemed they meant business, and Harry wondered just how they’d gotten inside and what in hell they had planned.

The bouncers all seemed to have received the message, and Harry saw them converging on the group. They knew how to handle things, so Harry decided to stay out of the way. He scanned the club for other trouble and saw Tristan making his way toward the door, heading right for Carlos and his goons.

He knew the second Carlos saw Tristan. Carlos began moving toward him with the bouncers and Bull following behind. Harry hurried to intercept him and managed to use a momentary break that opened in the crush of dancers to pull Tristan toward him and get him off to the side.

The music in the club continued, but the dancers stopped and parted as Chris launched himself at one of the goons and Bull went for Carlos. Harry didn’t see the other man until he was right in front of him. Shit. He pushed Tristan behind him. The goon’s jacket opened, and Harry saw the glint of metal. That was all he needed. He lashed out with his knee, connecting with tender parts. The bigger they were, the faster they grabbed their balls and collapsed onto the floor.

Harry turned to Tristan, pulled him close, and moved away from the man rolling on the floor. As soon as they had some distance between them, Harry sent a text to the security staff, and within a minute they arrived and lifted the writhing man to his feet and off the club floor. They muscled him through the door at the back of the club, where Harry assumed they’d put him in the small room that was usually used for storage, but occasionally served as a holding area.

About a minute after that, Harry got a text from Bull.

Called the police. They’ll be here soon enough
, Bull sent.
Secured Carlos and other men in holding room. Spook took off.

Harry sent a message that he understood before returning to Tristan. “Are you all right?”

“Y… yeah,” Tristan said. “You laid him out like he was nothing.”

Harry chuckled as he guided Tristan around the edge of the dance floor. The excitement was over, and the men had already returned to their dancing. The buzz of conversation that had run through the crowd like bees in a hive was forgotten as they went back to their fun. “All I did was knee him in the nuts. That doesn’t take any special skill.” They reached the door to the office and back-room area.

“But you knew what to do,” Tristan said. “I wouldn’t have.”

Harry opened the door and they went inside. As soon as it closed, most of the noise from the club was snuffed off. “I’ll let you in on a secret—that’s about the limit of my bouncer-like skills. Bull told me years ago that when push comes to shove, fight dirty and go for the balls. It works every time and is nearly guaranteed to give you time to get away.” They walked past the office to the small storage room.

Bull stood outside, his arms folded over his chest. “I told the police to come around to the back and that we had the troublemakers in custody for them.” Bull turned to Tristan. “It seems they came back for you.”

“What? Me?” Tristan squeaked. “What do they want with me?”

“They don’t, but apparently Eddie does. Carlos Garcia is one of his boys, and he was sent here tonight to try to find you. Which he did. While he was here, he figured he’d do a little business, which screwed up all his plans.” Bull’s eyes blazed. He was clearly none too happy.