Chapter 10
Dancing was a bad idea. They hadn’t gone out of their way to get out from under the FBI’s radar to grind against each other in a sweaty club. Jarrett had assumed Eli was dedicated to finding out what exactly was going on, but when he’d admitted being over his head, and his puppy-warm eyes had looked across the office and begged him to understand, Jarrett knew he’d do whatever it took to erase the anxiety away from both visage and brow. They needed to eat anyway, he justified. It didn’t have to be a long break.
Except the music was intoxicating. Whatever he might think about the man, or Eli’s unexpected affiliation with someone so much older, Trevor had excellent taste. Jarrett didn’t recognize the band, but the bass served as a metronome to lull even the most reticent patrons
