Due Process

2. Troy

2

Troy

A smart man, Mr. Barlowe didn’t speak a word as they exited the police station. The spring air cooled Troy’s heated face, and he glanced at his client, noting the workout clothing that he hadn’t expected to see.

Noah’s client came from money, Troy had read in his file before heading to the station. He also had plenty of his own and was known around town as a ruthless businessman—and playboy.

Troy had expected a suit and tie, considering it was a workday, or nice casual jeans and button-down at the least. But no. Silas Barlowe paraded around in a form-fitting T-shirt that outlined bulging shoulders and prominent pecs. And his mesh gym shorts left nothing to the imagination.

Queer as a four-dollar bill, Troy couldn’t help his body’s reaction to all of Silas’s splendid…lusciousness. Dark hair and arresting hazel eyes, one showing the beginnings of a black bruise. Broad shoulders, big enough to pin him down and take whatever he wanted.

Not my type, Troy lied to himself, hating the memory of how his d**k had sprung to life from a mere handshake. The man had noticed his reaction too, much to Troy’s annoyance.

Troy swallowed thickly against the desire rippling down his spine while fully stepping out into the Boston spring day.

Not having heard the story of why Mr. Barlowe had been detained for questioning, why he wasn’t dressed in the threads the media always showed him in, Troy didn’t know what to think.

But his body still did, and in front of the station was no place for a conversation about business—or otherwise.

“I’m assuming you caught a ride in a cruiser?” Troy asked, stopping on the sidewalk.

“Yep.” Silas hunched against the cool breeze, the skin of his muscular forearms pebbling beneath Troy’s gaze.

Troy ripped his focus off Silas’s hairy arms—strong enough to break a man—and pulled his keys from his suit coat pocket. “I can take you wherever you need to go.” He managed to keep his tone level rather than squeaking at the idea of being wrapped up against Silas’s chest, those wide hands of his grasping his a*s.

“Appreciate it.” Silas followed along behind Troy, but awareness of the larger man’s presence heated Troy’s backside, causing his skin to cover in goosebumps.

No gaydar had pinged while Troy had quickly taken in Mr. Barlowe upon arriving at the interrogation room, but the man hadn’t bothered hiding the interest in his eyes—or the slow smirk that suggested he wouldn’t mind a little taste.

While the thought of being spread out for Silas Barlowe’s pleasure pushed every single one of his buttons—

No, Troy lied.

Troy held himself to a high standard. No messing with clients. And he sure as hell wouldn’t mess around with a known player who had the type of body he’d never be able to escape.

A shiver slid down Troy’s spine, tempting him to relax just a little, but he lifted his chin, his footsteps steady as always even though his legs trembled.

It wasn’t until the two sat enclosed in his cluttered BMW that Troy’s outward confidence wavered.

Best to keep focused on the task at hand although the heat of the sexy man’s stare sent all Troy’s blood rushing south. His d**k stiffened enough he shifted to adjust himself before starting up his car.

Troy Emerson didn’t flirt with men like Silas after learning the possible outcomes the hard way back in high school. And although Silas turned his body on like the flip of a switch, Troy refused to be anything but professional.

“Would you like to fill me in, Mr. Barlow,” he asked, “or do you prefer to wait to make an appointment with Noah? You’re under no obligation to speak with me, but anything you state in this car is also covered by our confidentiality policy seeing as how I’m sure I’ll be helping if needed.”

“Silas, please.”

Troy nodded without looking at his passenger and pulled out of his parking spot, fighting to steady his pulse when everything about Silas made him want to climb the man like a damn tree.

“And I’ll gladly give you whatever you want.” His tone, his insinuation, clenched Troy’s asshole and left him lightheaded.

“Just honesty,” Troy rasped, hating he revealed how Mr. Barlowe affected him.

His passenger let out a quiet chuckle, and Troy silently cursed himself while turning right onto Congress Street.

Mr. Barlowe stated the facts, offering Troy a quick run-down of the break-in, fight, and subsequent death of the intruder. While the story sounded cut and dry as self-defense, Troy knew there were three sides to every story. The two involved—and the truth.

Fortunately for Silas, the deceased wasn’t able to tell his point of view.

“As long as they don’t find any evidence to suggest otherwise—”

“They won’t,” Silas interrupted, his tone firm, cocky almost.

Troy glanced over him, taking a quick study of his strong profile, the thin blade of a nose, and the five-o’clock shadow that would feel luscious scraping across his skin. A shudder rippled through him, and Troy turned his attention back on the road.

“You seem quite sure of yourself,” Troy stated quietly.

“Easily done when you’ve got nothing to hide.”

Another glance didn’t reveal anything more than certainty on Silas’s face. Assuming he hadn’t lied, there wasn’t a thing to fear. Lucky for him, Massachusetts held self-defense laws that other states did not.

“So, who was the intruder?” Troy asked, hanging a left at the next intersection.

“No f*****g clue.”

“Any idea why he’d target your sister?”

“Could have been random,” Silas suggested, his tone bored.

Too controlled for a man who’d just stabbed another to death.

“Guys are always after my sister’s a*s—she’s gorgeous—and that g*n suggested he didn’t plan on leaving without getting whatever he wanted from her.”

“You appear unaffected,” Troy observed, hoping to slide beneath Silas’s skin and encourage a reaction. “Odd, considering you took a man’s life this morning.”

“Fucker deserved it.” A hint of spite inflected Silas’s tone, raising the hackles on Troy’s neck.

“You love your sister.”

“She’s all I have.”

Troy hung a right onto Commonwealth Ave while considering Silas’s claim. “You own a multi-billion-dollar company. A penthouse in Boston, a house on Lake Winnipesaukee. One in Telluride and one in Tuscany.”

“Did you take a few minutes to Google me before coming to the station, Troy?”

“I scanned your file.”

“And what else did you learn?”

“Only facts, but I know who you are,” Troy stated, having already put Silas Barlowe into a tidy box inside his head as he did with all men.

“And what am I?”

Someone who would do whatever necessary to bed Troy then discard him.

Troy slowed as he approached the address Silas had provided. “An overindulgent playboy who thinks he can get anything and any woman he wants.”

“You don’t mince words.” A hint of admiration laced Silas’s statement.

“Honesty is the best policy.”

The heat of Silas’s stare warmed Troy’s face. “Always?”

He pulled up alongside Silas’s Mercedes parked on the street in front of his sister’s place and hit the four-ways. “Always,” Troy replied firmly.

Even when your words weren’t believed.

Yellow caution tape blocked off Grace’s property, one cruiser, another unmarked car, and the forensics van still onsite.

The sexy as hell man shifted, angling toward him, and Troy steeled himself before giving Silas his attention.

“How’s this for honesty, assistant attorney Troy Emerson?” Silas leaned forward, his lowered tone and the l**t in his hazel eyes causing Troy’s d**k to swell back to full thickness again. “I thought I was straight as f**k and had never met a man I wanted to strip down to nothing but neediness until you walked through that door. Your pristine suit rumpled on the floor, every inch of your pale, pretty skin marked by my mouth and fingertips, and your hair mussed from being thoroughly fucked.”

Troy barely managed to keep his shiver internal, and he forced a frown to furrow his brow. “I have zero interest in sating curiosity, and quite frankly, your confidence is off-putting, Mr. Barlowe.”

“The pink on your cheeks says otherwise, Mr. Emerson.”

Troy needed to swallow—hard—but refrained. “I will not fraternize with a client.”

Silas flashed a grin at the breathless tone Troy hadn’t been able to help, and hell if the man’s smile wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “Care to make a wager?”

Straightening in the driver’s seat, Troy lifted his chin and glanced down over the muscles bulging beneath Silas’s T-shirt. Luscious, tempting man—but off-limits. “Unlike you, I don’t gamble unless it’s a sure thing.”

“But you are a sure thing,” Silas assured him, his eyes hooded as he reached for the door handle. “You just don’t know it yet.”

His wink caused Troy’s belly to flutter, keeping anger over Silas’s assumptions from rising.

Silas Barlowe might not need apps to find a hook-up every night of the week with his money and his looks, but Troy wouldn’t be swayed by Silas’s smooth words or wicked hot body.

No matter how much his d**k disagreed with his mind.

He’d given in to a similar man once before who ended up damn near ruining his life.