THE FIST to the face was a shock. Not expecting it, Keenan didn’t have time to prepare, and he hit the ground hard and sprawled in the open doorway of Cowboys and Angels bar.
He’d come for an interview, not to be knocked off his feet. He tried to yell “What the hell?” but with the pain from the air being knocked out of him and blood trickling out of his nose, all he could do was flap his mouth.
“Hell, man, are you okay?” A huge man with gray-green eyes and tousled dark curls leaned over Keenan and hauled him to his feet before he was ready, almost lifting him off the ground. Jeez, the guy was strong. Keenan stumbled, and the giant steadied him until his leg muscles were working. The man handed him a clean white cotton handkerchief. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Keenan held the handkerchief to his nose and winced at the pain. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up with black eyes. Blood dripped onto his white shirt. Great, now he probably had dirt on his back and blood on the front of his interview clothes.
“You need to sit down, man, before you fall down.”
Still shocked and winded by the blow to the face and subsequent fall, it was easier to let the man steer Keenan through the crowd of people to a booth at the back where he could collapse onto the new brown leather banquette and recover his composure. Keenan was damn sure he left his dignity at the doorway. He’d come for an interview, not to be beaten up on the doorstep.
Another guy, with short dark hair and a furious expression, arrived with a pack of ice wrapped in a towel and a glass of ice water. “Here, put that on your nose.”
Keenan nodded and wished he hadn’t as pain shot through his head and a fresh gust of blood dripped from his nose. He placed the ice pack on his nose and sighed as the cold numbed the area.
“What the hell happened, Gideon?” the shorter guy demanded of the tall man as he mopped up the blood on the table. He ignored Keenan’s attempts to clean the table himself.
Gideon shrugged, but he looked sheepish. “I punched him, darlin’.”
Keenan blinked. Darlin’? That was a bit friendly. Then his words sunk in. “You were the one who hit me?”
“What the hell did you do that for?” the man demanded.
“I was showing Ariel a tai chi move. I didn’t realize how close I was to the door. I put my arm out, and you walked into it.” His arm shot out in demonstration and Keenan flinched back. Gideon realized and dropped his arm. “It was bad timing.”
Because everyone walked into a fist when they opened a door. Keenan blinked at him, his eyes watering now. Could this day get any worse? “I thought tai chi was supposed to be calming,” he managed.
“It is if this lunk isn’t the one doing it,” the man grumbled. “How are you feeling?”
Keenan cautiously touched his nose. “I don’t think it’s broken. How does it look?”
The man inspected his face. “You’re gonna have two shiners by the end of the day.”
Keenan groaned. “Just my luck.”
“I’ll get you a drink. Gideon can pay for it.”
This was Gideon? The Gideon? The one who made booty calls to his husband?
“I’m married to the boss,” Gideon said, sounding hopeful. “He could cut me a break.”
“Not a chance,” the man said flatly. “Buy him a drink and make it a double.”
Gideon held up his hands. “Give the man what he wants, darlin’.”
Keenan had a feeling he was in the middle of some long-running farce he knew nothing about. “I’m supposed to be here for an interview with Dan. I’m not going to drink first. Do you know where he is? I’m probably late now. What is the time?”
The man cocked his head. “Keenan Day?” He ignored all Keenan’s questions.
“Yes. Are you expecting me?”
“Yes, I’m Dan Taylor. This idiot is my husband, Gideon.” He held out his hand and then took it back. “Don’t worry about that. You keep the ice on your nose. You were the guy who called this morning for the bartending job?”
Keenan nodded and winced again as pain shot through his nose and spread out through his face. He had to stop doing that. He hastily accepted another paper towel from Dan as his nose dripped again.
“You did security,” Dan said. “Why do you want to work in a bar?”
“I need a job,” Keenan admitted. “We all got laid off yesterday, and I can’t afford to be out of work. I thought I could do with a change of scene.”
“It’s long hours on your feet,” Dan warned. “And this is a blue-collar bar.”
“I can deal with the hours, and I worked on construction sites.” He eyed Gideon with trepidation. “Getting pummeled isn’t part of the job, is it?” Keenan had to be careful with any head trauma, and the idea of regularly being punched in the face didn’t appeal.
“Not recently,” Dan said with a wealth of meaning in his tone. Keenan didn’t understand it, but Gideon obviously did, judging from the way he rolled his eyes.
“How about you have a drink, we’ll talk some more, and then you have a trial session tomorrow? Usually I’d do that as part of the interview, but I don’t think you’re up for it today.”
Keenan wanted to protest he was fine, but as his nose was still bleeding and his head ached, he said, “Sounds good to me.” Bleeding into the drinks probably wasn’t good customer service.
“Gideon can drive you home later.” The flat tone suggested Gideon would do as he was told, and there was no protest from the big man as he got to his feet.
“What do you want to drink, Keenan?” Gideon asked.
“Whiskey on the rocks, thanks.” One drink, and then he would stick to coffee.
“Good choice,” Gideon said and headed to the bar.
Dan took his place and slid into the banquette. He eyed Keenan and seemed to like what he saw, because his expression eased. After a moment he asked, “Why did you get laid off?”
“The company folded. It was a small family-run construction firm. It just couldn’t keep up with the big guys.” Keenan felt real sorrow at the fate of the company. The family who had owned the firm were genuinely good people, and Keenan knew he’d been lucky to find a job he loved, even if it had been with his parents’ help.
“Do you have a résumé?”
Keenan pulled a plastic folder out of his jacket and gingerly handed it over, because his hands were still covered in blood.
Dan skimmed through the sparse information and looked up in surprise. “You went to college and graduated with a degree in medical biochemistry. Why didn’t you go into the field?”
Keenan had been prepared for the question. He pushed his hair away from one side of his head to expose his scalp. Dan’s eyes widened as he took in the three-inch long scar. “The summer I graduated, I took a job as a porter in my local hospital. It was supposed to be a relaxing summer before I started work in a laboratory. The husband of one of the patients objected to what the doctor was doing. I tried to stop him attacking the doctor and he shoved me so hard I fell and cracked my head on the bed. When I woke up, any chance I had of working in a laboratory was gone. I was in rehab for months just learning to walk and talk. It was an unlucky accident. I’m fine now. I work hard and I live alone,” he said hastily. “I just don’t have the skills I had before.” He tried not to sound bitter. After six years he should have gotten over it.
Dan looked at him and then at the scar again. “What effect does it have on you?”
“If I get too tired, I get clumsy. Apart from that, I can manage pretty much anything you throw at me. Except fists.” Keenan let his hair fall. “Have I talked myself out of a job?”
“You’ve been honest,” Dan said, “but you are going to be tired. Why don’t we start with the trial session and see what happens?”
Gideon returned with the whiskey and a plate of pretzels. He slid in beside Dan and laid his arm along the back of the booth. “Have you finished with the interrogation?”
Dan huffed but leaned into him. “We call it an interview, Gideon.”
“If he can pull beer, he can do the job.”
“And that’s why we still have Liam,” Dan said pointedly.
Gideon flinched. “Point taken. So? Will he do?”
Keenan waited for Dan to tell Gideon about his disability, but Dan just nodded.
“He’ll do if he can get through the trial session tomorrow. Any questions, Keenan?”
“So you two are married?” He had no idea why that suddenly popped out, but he was fixed with a hard stare from Gideon.
“Dan is mine.”
“Down, boy,” Dan said, and from the movement, Keenan guessed he patted Gideon’s thigh. “He gets the idea.”
“He’d better,” Gideon growled.
“I do,” Keenan said hastily.
“Keenan? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He turned to see Ramon grinning at him. Keenan stood to shake his hand, forgetting about the blood, and a spray covered the table and his résumé. Dan hastily handed him a wad of paper napkins, and Keenan wiped his nose.
The smile faded from Ramon’s face, and he leaned in to study his face. “What happened to you?”
Keenan resisted the urge to look away. “Nothing. It was an accident. I’m fine. Where’s Karen?”
“Be thankful she’s back at the precinct or she’d be furious. Your nose is bleeding, and I can see the start of two black eyes. What happened?”
“I ran into a fist,” Keenan said dryly, taking grim satisfaction in seeing Gideon’s wince out of the corner of his eye.
“Do you want to press charges?”
That deep growl didn’t come from Ramon, but from a voice Keenan recognized—his stranger from a week ago. Keenan stared at him, appreciating the sight of Nate in a dark gray suit, a charcoal gray shirt, and a gray tie with midnight blue stripes. He looked edible. Nate wasn’t staring at him with the hot intensity of their first meeting. Instead he was scowling at Keenan. He was still gorgeous. Keenan’s thoughts drifted to stripping Nate out of his suit.
“Keenan?” Ramon interrupted his hungry gazing. “Do you want to press charges?”
“Uh… no.” Keenan remembered not to shake his head. “Definitely not.”
“Who hit you?” Nate said, anger evident in his voice.
“Who are you?” Dan asked.
“This is Detective Nate Gordon,” Ramon said. “Gordon, this is Keenan Day.”
“We’ve met,” Nate said, his intense gaze on Keenan, who flushed. “Who hit you?” he repeated.
Gideon sighed and sat up. “I did.”
Ramon’s jaw dropped. “You hit Keenan?”
“It was an accident. You see—”
Nate held up his hand. “Wait.” From the shocked look on Gideon’s face, not many people cut him off. “Keenan, do you need to get checked out at the ER?”
That was the last thing Keenan wanted to do. With his history, they’d rack up the bills running all sorts of tests he didn’t want. “I’m fine. And don’t you even think of telling Karen,” he said to Ramon, who was about to speak.
Nate furrowed his thick brows. “Karen?”
“Karen Day,” Ramon said.
“Karen Day is your sister?” Nate asked.
“Twin sister,” Keenan said dryly. “Do you know her?”
“Nate is the new man at the precinct,” Ramon said. “So, you two already know each other?”
Keenan could hear the curiosity in his voice. He was in for some hard questions later.
“We’ve met,” Nate said.
If Keenan had any fantasies of finding a quiet space with Nate, they vanished as he took that on board. There was no way he could pursue a relationship with his sister’s co-worker. It was just his luck that the gorgeous gay man who’d walked into his life was suddenly very unavailable.
“Well, it’s a small world,” Gideon said brightly.
The guy must have a hide like a rhino, because he didn’t flinch as Nate, Ramon, Dan, and Keenan glared at him. Although, when you were built like Gideon, Keenan figured there wasn’t much that could intimidate you.
Nate on the other hand, didn’t seem remotely intimidated by Gideon. “Do you want me to arrest Taylor?” he asked Keenan.
“What the hell?” Gideon asked.
Ramon sighed and waved a hand at Dan and Gideon. “Nate, this is Dan. He owns Cowboys and Angels. And the guy you’re threatening to arrest is his husband, Gideon Taylor. He owns Dan and most of Brooklyn.”
Dan spluttered as everyone except Keenan laughed.
An icy knot formed in the pit of Keenan’s stomach as Ramon’s introduction sunk in. “You’re Gideon Taylor? Of C&A Holdings?”
Gideon smiled and nodded. “That’s right.”
Keenan left the melting ice pack on the table and got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t work for you. Thanks for the interview. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”