But regardless of how much fun they had, Marcus did eventually have to go back to work. That also ensured that the cats got fed and the litter boxes cleaned, he supposed. So after they left the Space Needle, they stopped by at Chris and Julien’s place to look after the cats. Then Marcus drove them to Wilde’s. The plan was for Timur to take his keys and chill at Marcus’s place until after closing. Of course that flew in the face of trying to keep this casual, sticking together like this all the time, but on the other hand, why not make the best of what time they had together?
Marcus pulled into the parking lot and switched the engine off. “I have about an hour until the shift starts.”
“Will wait with you.” Timur didn’t seem to have any other pressing items on his social schedule, so why the hell not. He could have a drink or just breathe some air or watch people, maybe even dance.
“Sure. Here are my keys.” He dug in his pocket for the keys and handed them over. “You get bored, just go hang out at my place. It’s not far from here, and there’s plenty of food in the fridge.”
Timur took the keys and nodded, but didn’t leave just yet.
Marcus pushed the door open and got his work clothes out of the trunk, then headed to the club, Timur in tow. Jack was already in, even though the doors wouldn’t open for a while, and, again, Timur attracted his attention. “Who’s your friend, Marcus?”
Marcus slowed down and turned toward Timur, then back at Jack. “Friend of mine. Timur. He’s also a friend of Julien’s. They were both in the Legion.”
Jack nodded as if that made a whole lot of sense. Marcus supposed it did—Timur was big, powerful, obviously foreign and friends with Chris’s husband. The Legion made as much sense as anything.
While Marcus prepped his station, Timur took a seat on one of the barstools.
“This might be kind of boring,” Marcus said.
Timur shrugged, folding his hands on the bar, which wouldn’t be nearly that clean and dry in a couple of hours. “Boredom isn’t always bad.”
Marcus eyed him. “What do you mean?”
A slight grin played at Timur’s lips. “Boredom means no one is shooting at you.”
Marcus laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Shrugging again, Timur chuckled. “Hadn’t either. Until war.”
Marcus paused, hands hovering over the garnish tray he’d been reaching for. Though he knew Julien had seen combat and he’d heard some of the stories—what few the man was willing to share—and he knew Timur had been a soldier for a decade, there was something odd about hearing that he’d been to war. Or maybe that there’d ever been a time when he hadn’t been to war. When he hadn’t appreciated boredom because the alternative was taking fire.
Clearing his throat, Marcus picked up the garnish tray. As he rinsed it in the sink below the bar, he said, “Well. Um. At least you’re well prepared.” He laughed quietly. “This place isn’t very exciting this time of day.”
“Means you’re not busy with others.” Timur smiled. “Is good.”
Marcus met his eyes, and his heart fluttered a little. What a concept—a man who just liked spending time together without the need to be constantly entertained. Where were men like this hiding?
His gaze slid toward Chris’s vacant station. Oh. Right. They were all hiding in the French Foreign Legion.
He cleared his throat and reached for a towel to dry the garnish tray. “Do you, uh, want something to drink?”
Timur’s gaze flicked up to the top-shelf bottles behind Marcus, and his eyebrows rose a little. “I’ve never…” he waved a hand at the bottles, “…never seen these.”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, I guess there are a lot of options. Something with vodka?” As soon as he said it, he cringed. Good one, dude. Offer the Ukrainian guy vodka.
Timur laughed, though. “You are bartender. You know what is good.”
“It’s all a matter of taste. What I like, someone else might not.”
“We’ve liked same so far.”
Marcus paused, wondering if they were still talking about food and drinks. He met Timur’s gaze, and the gleam in those green eyes answered that question. No, they were definitely not talking about food and drinks. And, damn, he would actually have to spend some of that month outside the bed, never mind working, though Timur’s presence made him question if that was remotely compatible with his human rights. Getting laid was a human right, wasn’t it?
Anyway, cocktail. Most of his working shift he spent making the really simple ones—rum and coke, vodka and orange—and that was fine and dandy. Next came the common ones—daiquiris and mojitos and kamikazes—but he’d learned a few hundred recipes, and there were quite a few cocktails that he actually preferred but nobody ever requested.
“You choose” invited that level of creativity and electrified his synapses that were bored with the 99 percent usual orders. Looking at Timur, it had to be something with a French connection—something with Pernod, because it didn’t get more French than that. Actually, absinthe. While he’d trained, the green stuff had been illegal, but then it had become legal again a few years ago.
He pulled up a Collins glass, dropped ice into it, then found the absinthe bottle. A shot of absinthe, same amount of lime juice, added syrup and topped it up with water, with a cucumber slice as garnish. Straw pushed in. “There.”
Timur came closer and took the glass, sniffed at it and gave him a curious look. “What is it?”
“Green Beast. Haven’t made one in ages.” He could probably have come up with something darker green, but the name did it. “How is it?”
Timur sucked on the straw and nodded. “Is good.”
And damn it, but those two words were now forever tied into sweaty sex.
“Glad you like it.” Marcus’s mouth had suddenly gone dry, so he pulled his water bottle out from under the sink and took a long swallow. Christ. He usually wasn’t parched until closer to the end of his shift, when he’d been pouring booze for progressively more inebriated men for several hours. A few minutes, a look and a two-word phrase from Timur somehow had the same effect.
Do you really have to leave in a month?
That thought nearly made Marcus choke on his own breath, and he quickly shoved it to the back of his mind.
But apparently not before his face registered something, because Timur lowered his drink and asked, “Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing.” Marcus coughed and glanced around. “I, uh, need to refill my ice tray. Back in a second.”
Timur nodded and continued working his way through the Green Beast, and Marcus damn near sprinted into the back room where the ice bin was. He picked up the bucket but didn’t fill it right away. Instead, he rested his arm on the ice bin and closed his eyes.
What the fuck was the matter with him? Yesterday, he’d been fine with this arrangement—sex, cooking, tourism, more sex.
Now the idea of Timur leaving at the end of the month—it threw him off. They’d known each other for a few days. They barely spoke the same language. Marcus was hardly in love with the guy, but, damn it, he really liked him. That mellow, easygoing personality. The playfulness.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Well, at least he knew this was going to end sooner than later. There wouldn’t be weeks, months, years of uncertainty, wondering who was finally going to drop the hammer and call it quits because, holy shit, they were both miserable. Less than a month from now, Timur would be gone, and Marcus would be back to cooking for himself, using packed boxes for furniture and wishing somebody else would give him a hand job for a change.
Marcus shook himself, then opened the ice bin and filled the bucket. He carried it back into the lounge area, and—
Stopped.
Three of his coworkers were gathered around his station, chatting with Timur. And, no, that wasn’t jealousy that had just flared up in Marcus’s chest. Just…surprise. No jealousy.
He continued toward the station, and Kieran moved aside so Marcus could pour the ice into the tray.
Marcus set the empty bucket at his feet. “I see you’ve met everyone.”
“Actually, we haven’t really been introduced.” Liam gestured at Timur. “I thought he might’ve been a customer wandering in early.”
“No, he’s with me.” Gesturing at each person in turn, Marcus said, “This is my boss, Liam. Kieran. Jack. Timur.”
“Timur?” Liam asked as he shook the man’s hand. “That’s an unusual name.”
Timur shrugged. “Maybe here. Like Tamerlane—Mongols.”
Wow. He’d been named after Tamerlane? It probably made sense—his features were unusual, but then, Timur hedged about his family, so asking him his exact parentage and ethnic mix might not be welcome. It also really shouldn’t matter. Hadn’t for the Legion.
“He’s one of Julien’s comrades from the Legion, here between contracts. He was Julien’s best man at the wedding.”
Kieran laughed. “Hey, he does look different in a tux.”
Liam nodded. “Thought I’d seen him before, but couldn’t quite place him. Is he staying at your place?”
“No, he’s Julien and Chris’s cat-sitter. I’m just showing him the city.”
He was fooling exactly nobody in the room, but at least the guys didn’t start ribbing him over it—being the new guy had its advantages; they didn’t pester him too much, however playfully.
“When are you going back?” Kieran asked, and sounded perfectly innocent.
“Three weeks.”
“Well, enjoy your time in Seattle.” Liam gave Timur a smile and returned to his office.
“Have you seen much of the city?” Kieran asked Timur, but his gaze slid toward Marcus, and the sly look made Marcus’s cheeks burn.
“Marcus shows me.” Timur sipped his Green Beast. “Much to see. Not much time.”
No, not much time at all…
“You should check out the underground tour,” Kieran said. “Alex and I did it a few months ago, and it’s pretty cool.”
“Underground?”
“Yeah. The city was built too low, so they lifted the streets up, but you can still walk around the lower part.”
Timur’s eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Marcus. “Lifted? Streets?”
“We’ll check it out,” Marcus said. “I’ve never done that tour either, so it could be interesting.”
“All right.” Timur shrugged. “I go where you go.”
And why the hell do I wish that didn’t end in three weeks?
“Cool. We’ll check it out.” Marcus picked up the empty ice bucket. “I need to put this back and grab a few things out of the walk-in. Sit tight for a minute.”
He thought Timur might not understand the phrase—sometimes he didn’t realize he’d used a slang term or something until he’d actually said it—but Timur seemed to at least catch the gist and stayed at Marcus’s station with his drink.
Marcus carried the empty bucket into the back, set it by the ice bin and stepped into the walk-in cooler to grab a few garnishes.
“He’s really gone in three weeks?”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder. Kieran was mostly backlit, his face obscured, but Marcus knew his voice. “Yeah. Going back to the Legion.”
Kieran stepped all the way into the walk-in, the overhead light illuminating some of his features. He was usually the playful, smirking type with a wicked sense of humor, but he seemed more serious now. “Are you, uh, okay with that?”
“Okay with it?” Marcus busied himself gathering jars of cherries and a handful of limes. “I’ve known him a week.”
“Seems like you two get along pretty well.”
There was no suggestive undertone. No amused double meaning.
Marcus swallowed. “Yeah, we do.” He tucked one of the cherry jars under his arm and faced Kieran. “Kind of hard to get to know someone when there’s a language barrier, though.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be.” Kieran studied him, the overhead light emphasizing the crevices between his eyebrows. “It’s not really my business, but…I don’t know, you seemed kind of off-balance around him. Especially when he mentioned leaving.”
“I don’t know about off-balance.” Marcus picked up the limes and another cherry jar and nodded toward the door. As Kieran started ahead of him, Marcus added, “It’s kind of like being on vacation, you know? You’re having a good time, and you don’t want it to end, even though you know it has to and life will go back to normal once it does.”
Kieran stopped outside the walk-in and turned around. “Yeah, but some vacations take longer to recover from than others.”
“I’ll be fine.” Marcus toed the heavy door shut, and as Kieran latched it, added, “Hopefully Liam will go easy on me that first week. I’ll probably have a bit of a vacation hangover.”
He thought Kieran would laugh, and he kind of did, but that concern was still etched pretty deep into his features. “He probably will. Liam’s cool like that.” He paused, then shrugged, but it was a taut gesture. “Well, as long as you’re all right. You just seemed…off.”
“I’ll be fine. And, hey, by the time I have to recover from my ‘vacation’, Chris will be back to pick up the slack.”
Chris will be back. With Julien. His ex-legionnaire. The ex-legionnaire who wouldn’t be leaving to go back to—
Jesus, Marcus. Get a grip.
He shifted the limes and jar he was holding. “Anyway. I should finish prepping my station.”
“Yeah. Me too. Just, uh, let me know if you need anything, okay?”
He met Kieran’s eyes. And, no, they were definitely not talking about garnishes and well drinks. He could pretend they were, because he really didn’t need help and couldn’t foresee having to ask for it, but he was still glad that he worked in a place where people cared about their coworker enough to offer help or advice. It certainly wasn’t the dog-eat-dog world of some other places, or the slight awkwardness at Le Chien Bleu, where he’d been the boss and husband of the owner, which prevented very close relationships between him and the other staff. He didn’t want to pretend and also didn’t want to linger on exactly why he looked rattled enough to invite offers for help, so he settled on a simple “Thanks.”
They both went back to their stations and finished prepping, which at least kept his hands busy and his mind engaged. Timur sat on the barstool, watching proceedings but not blocking the area.
When the doors opened, he attracted some attention, but most guys in the crowd were probably too sober to approach him directly. Maybe it was because he wasn’t dressed to the nines or mostly undressed, unlike a large portion of the crowd, so he didn’t immediately fit into any of the categories. And with his unusual looks, he might even be a straight foreigner who was unaware what it meant that there were almost no women around, and those who came here tended to be one or two in a group of gay men. So people played it safe, at least until they’d had some liquid courage or Timur might have lost his shirt. Either of them.
Timur watched the crowd with an expression that was hard to read—above all, he seemed very relaxed without slouching, and at the same time extremely alert. About two hours into the shift, Marcus pushed a fresh Green Beast toward him, which had the calculated effect that some of the patrons saw the bright green drink and asked what he was serving. He immediately sold two more.
As the volume in the club increased, and everyone had to shout to be heard, Timur still seemed completely relaxed. Not necessarily in his element, but not as far out of it as Marcus would have expected either. He figured Timur would’ve taken off by now, but he seemed perfectly content chilling by the bar.
Liam wasn’t usually a fan of the guys bringing their boyfriends, husbands or fuck buddies to work for more than a drink or two—his own husband swung by once in a while but didn’t usually linger beyond an hour. He didn’t mind Timur, though. Didn’t take much to figure out why—Timur was like a man magnet. As the club’s patrons got drunker and drunker, they also got more confident and more aggressive, and one after the other, they approached the big exotic man and flirted over the music and voices.
At first, Marcus wasn’t sure what he thought of that. But after a few had come and gone, and each tried unsuccessfully to lure Timur out onto the dance floor, Marcus couldn’t help being amused by the whole thing. Timur wasn’t the model with a waxed six-pack, but he definitely intrigued the crowd tonight, and they were collectively bound and determined to get him to dance. Marcus suspected a few of them wanted more than just some bumping and grinding under the disco lights.
He grinned to himself as he poured his four-millionth Long Island iced tea of the night.
Keep trying, boys. He’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight.
During a brief lull, he leaned across the bar and shouted, “Doing all right?”
Timur nodded. “Is good.”
Is good. Of course.
Marcus chuckled, patted his arm and went back to pouring booze.
By the time the club was so packed that people could barely move, Marcus had stopped worrying about Timur. Not that he had much choice—there were customers crowded around his station, shouting drink orders and waving money at him. It was going to be a great night for tips, that was for sure, and his gorgeous companion seemed to be having a good time too. Everything was as it should be.
Is good.
And then some shitfaced jerkwad shoved his way to the front of the crowd and slammed a glass down on the bar. “What the fuck is this?”
Marcus suppressed a groan, and continued mixing a Sex on the Beach on autopilot. “I’m sorry?”
“Hey, get back,” someone said, elbowing the guy. “Wait in—”
“I did wait in line,” the guy slurred. “And I got this piece-of-shit drink.” He picked up the glass and waved it, sending its contents sloshing onto the bar. “I fucking tipped you. Get it right.”
Marcus took a breath and set his shoulders back. “Let me finish this, and I’ll—”
“Fuck you! Fix it now!”
“Hey, man.” Someone else nudged the guy’s arm. “Take it easy. He’s—”
“Fuck you too. I’m not drinking this shit.”
Without warning, the drunk son of a bitch threw the glass at Marcus. Marcus ducked and was only hit by some flying booze and a couple of ice cubes while the glass shattered against the back wall.
And out of nowhere, Timur was there. He had the guy’s arm in one hand, the front of his shirt in the other, and he’d pinned the little fucker against the bar. His lips pulled back across his teeth, his eyes flashing with rage, and Marcus wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the drunk—who was half Timur’s size—had shit himself.
Everyone else took a startled step back, and though the music was still blasting, the room may as well have fallen silent. The bouncers were on their way, bald heads gleaming in the disco lights as they shoved through the crowd.
“Hey, hey.” Marcus leaned forward and touched Timur’s arm. “Easy. Let him go.”
Timur’s eyes shifted toward Marcus, and his expression softened slightly, but he didn’t let go. “You’re all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m…” Marcus brushed a few drops of liquor off his shirt and showed his hands. “I’m fine. Is good.”
Timur loosened his grasp. The drunk jerked away from him but managed to tumble right into the tree-size arms of Jack and Casey.
“You’re out of here, motherfucker,” Casey growled and grabbed the douche bag by the scruff. As he led him toward the door, everyone else turned their attention back to Timur, and Marcus was pretty sure half the room had instantly sobered up.
Liam materialized beside Marcus. “What the fuck is going on?”
Marcus looked around, unwilling to get chewed out by his boss in front of the crowd, not sure how to read him. Thankfully, Liam caught on, didn’t force his point out here and instead nodded toward the office.
That, of course, triggered Timur’s protective nature, and he took another small step forward, as if to shield Marcus. Marcus placed a hand against Timur’s chest. “It’s okay. It’s all under control.”
Timur looked dubious, glanced quickly at Liam, and maybe it was his fairly blank face, and really just his impressive build, but it wasn’t the friendliest glance. There was a fair bit of warning in it. Great. Just great. “Just telling my boss how this happened. Back in a few.”
Before this could get any weirder, he headed to Liam’s office and waited for his boss to close the door behind them. Shit. He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong, but Liam preferred the whole ship on an even keel. He definitely didn’t like troublemakers. Hell, when Marcus had run his kitchen, people who brought trouble into his sleek and efficient machine tended to find themselves outside that kitchen very quickly.
“The customer was angry about his drink—I don’t know, didn’t like it, expected it to be different, I don’t know, we never got to that part. He started to get annoyed when I didn’t drop the drink I was just making, and ended up throwing his glass at me.”
Liam looked him square in the eye, and Marcus tried not to notice how Liam’s eyes were almost the same shade as Timur’s.
“Did he hit you?” Liam asked.
Marcus almost breathed with relief. Liam was a good boss—as shown again in that question. “No. Just some splatter and ice cubes. I’ll live.”
“And Attila the Hun?”
“Timur? He… I think he just saw the glass fly and grabbed the customer. Didn’t hurt him, just restrained him. Jack and Casey stepped in immediately.”
Liam absently rubbed the backs of his fingers along his scruffy jaw. “And what about you?”
Marcus blinked. “What about me?”
“You, uh…” Liam glanced at the door, and he suddenly seemed nervous. Fidgety. Pulling in a deep breath, he turned to Marcus again. “Listen, I’m glad the situation didn’t get out of control, but…”
It was Marcus’s turn to get fidgety. “But…?”
Liam moistened his lips. “How volatile is that guy?”
“Volatile?” A laugh burst out of Marcus, and he shook his head. “He’s not. I mean, he’s a soldier. He saw a situation, and—”
“He saw someone messing with his man.”
Marcus blinked again. “What? No. He—”
“Marcus.” Liam’s voice was gentle but firm. Not quite the boss voice, but definitely the you’re going to shut up and listen to me tone. “What would have happened to that drunk shithead if you hadn’t stepped in and calmed your guy down?”
“I…”
“Because from where I stood, it looked a lot like someone was about to get his ass beat. And to be honest, I’m not even sure Jack and Casey would’ve been able to talk Timur down if he’d really lost it.”
Marcus studied Liam. Folding his arms across his damp shirt, he tilted his head. “What are you getting at here? He jumped in and intervened because he thought the guy was getting out of control.”
“And it looked to me like he was close to getting out of control.”
Marcus exhaled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Look, I’ll have him wait for me at my place. I won’t bring him in—”
“That’s not my concern.” Liam took a step back and eased himself down on the edge of the desk, arms folded loosely across his chest. “But I’ve seen guys like him before. The ones who are protective.” He nodded toward the door. “That protective. And it doesn’t take much for that to, you know, escalate.”
“Escalate?” Marcus shifted, dress shoes creaking softly in the otherwise silent office. “In what way?”
“Protective can get possessive. I mean, your personal life is none of my business. I guess I just want to make sure you’re not putting yourself in a dangerous situation.”
“No.” Marcus shook his head. “He’s not like that at all. He’s actually really sweet and laid-back.”
“So was my ex,” Liam said flatly. “For a while.”
“Yeah, and I know how they can change too. My ex-husband was…” Marcus waved a hand. “I get it. Believe me. But what happened out there”—he pointed at the door—“was nothing like that. To be honest, I think if Timur was actually going to get violent with the guy, he would’ve. But once the situation was defused and the guy stopped, so did he.”
Liam chewed his lip.
“Think about it,” Marcus said softly. “If Timur wanted to, he’d have broken the guy in two before the glass hit the wall. Yeah, he got angry. Yeah, he went hands-on. But he didn’t take it any further than that, and I really don’t think he was going to.” He shrugged. “And he defused everything before Jack and Casey even knew what was happening.”
“Yeah, he did. And he’s welcome to stay here. I just want to make sure you’re not in a bad situation.”
“No, I’m definitely not.” Marcus smiled. “He really is just sweet and laid-back. I can’t even remember the last time I was ever this comfortable and relaxed around a guy.”
Liam held his gaze, then laughed as he stood. He clapped Marcus’s shoulder. “You’re really taken with him, aren’t you?”
“As much as I can be, I guess.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s only here for another three weeks.” Marcus’s heart sank at the reminder. “Then he’s off to parts unknown to play legionnaire for a few more years.”
Liam scowled. “That’s a shame. If he’s as chill as you say he is, and he’s making you so comfortable and relaxed…”
“Yeah. Tell me about it.” Under normal circumstances, he might even have considered more, possibly. Like, date for six months plus and see if things stayed this good. But three weeks was nowhere near enough. “You know what, why don’t you and Jon come over to my place, and I’ll whip something up for lunch or dinner, and you get to meet Timur when he’s not in a crowded room full of strangers.”
“You did say you were a chef.”
“And a pretty good one.” Marcus felt the tension seep out of him as the conversation moved on to safer territory. “Though I won’t exactly do it to Le Chien Bleu’s level, but you won’t leave hungry or disappointed.”
“Sounds great. Let me know when it’s good for you.” Liam gently nudged him. “And maybe get back to your station before Timur gets upset and breaks you out.” A wink, a grin—it was clearly a joke.
“Will do.” Marcus chuckled. “Thanks. It’s a bit strange… I thought I’d signed up just for a job, but…” Was that going to sound cheesy? Probably, yeah. “I’ve been surprised how much you guys look after each other.” Definitely cheesy.
“Good staff’s still pretty hard to find, especially guys who can keep up.” Liam opened the door and let him go.
Marcus was glad to be back at his station, though he couldn’t find the customer who’d ordered the Long Island iced tea. Kieran glanced over and nodded at him. Thanks, Marcus mouthed in his direction, before a new customer waved money in his face and he got back into taking orders and mixing drinks. When the first five customers were served, he looked around for Timur.
The legionnaire sat at the end of the bar, watching again. Their eyes met, and, yeah, that tingle went all the way to Marcus’s toes and tightened his balls. He gave Timur a thumbs-up and saw him relax. That helped a great deal with the rest of the evening—it was a busy shift, and he really didn’t want to get too sidetracked by worrying about Timur.
But none of that was necessary. No more altercations and nobody managed to drag Timur out on the dance floor. There was one guy who was as pretty as he was insistent, and he almost managed to sit on Timur’s lap, but Timur pushed him aside and indicated Marcus. Marcus’s heart gave a little stutter. Considering the poisonous glare from that customer, Timur must have said something interesting.
Five minutes later, there was a little lull, and Marcus slid to that side of the bar. “What did you tell him?”
“Who?”
“The guy who was in your lap.”
Timur laughed, running his hand over Marcus’s arm, right on top of the bar and in plain sight. “I told him I’m here with you.”
And there it went, that stutter in his chest again. “If you want to dance or fool around with anyone, you’re welcome to it. I don’t—”
Timur kissed him.
Still out in the open. Still in plain sight.
And maybe all his senses just checked out for a second, but he swore he felt the music skip and the whole place jolt.
Drawing back, Timur said, “I can wait.”
I can’t.
Marcus gulped. “Okay. I…just don’t want you to get bored.”
“Not bored.” Timur tapped his temple, and his wicked grin rivaled Kieran’s. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking? About?”
Like he needed to ask. Holy fuck.
He glanced over his shoulder and caught Liam’s gaze. The shift manager was leaning against the back wall, arms folded, and he chuckled as he rolled his eyes.
To Timur, Marcus said, “Be right back.”
He didn’t wait for a response and made his way over to where his boss was standing.
“Let me guess,” Liam said with a smirk. “You want to cut out early?”
“Uh, well, I was actually—”
“Go.” Liam nudged him. “It’s quieting down. I’ll fill in at your station.”
“Are you—”
“Go.”
Marcus’s jaw almost dropped. He’d just gone over to ask if Liam was still cool with Timur hanging around the club, not to see if he could cut out early. But, hey, when the boss says go…
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Good.” Liam smiled. “And I’ll text you sometime tomorrow about dinner. When I’ve had a chance to talk to Jon.”
“Perfect.”
And suddenly Marcus was off the clock, free for the rest of the evening, with that dirty-minded, green-eyed soldier waiting for him at the end of the bar.
Maybe it was just as well Timur was leaving in three weeks. Much more time than that, there’d be nothing left of Marcus but ashes and the faint scent of absinthe.
He joined Timur. “I’m off for the rest of the night.”
Timur’s eyebrows jumped. “Your boss?”
“He said to take the rest of the night off.” Marcus slipped his hand into Timur’s. “We’ve got a few hours before either of us needs to sleep. How do you think we should spend them?”
“I know.” Timur made an after-you gesture.