MARTY didn’t get much sleep.
He thrashed on his twin-size bed for what had to be the thousandth time since his eyes first fluttered open at one in the morning. He’d heard what he’d thought had been the sound of the outdoor steps creaking, and he just knew that the cartel had found Luke and were getting ready to barge through the door and kill them both.
When he heard the neighbor’s cat meowing from somewhere outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and fell back into a fitful sleep filled with awful dreams.
He’d been at Sophia’s wedding, watching his big sister pledge her life to the man she loved, when a man with a scar suddenly shoved them aside. He pointed the barrel of a machine gun at them and opened fire before turning on the crowd. Blood had been everywhere, but the worst part of the dream had been his mother.
She had clutched her dress, which had been spotted with red blooms, and she crawled over to where he lay on the ground. “Why’d you do this to me?” she asked as her face contorted in pain. “Why did you have to lie?”
He sat straight up in bed, a sob lodged in his throat and sweat dripping down his brow.
That had been at 5:00 a.m., which was at least an hour ago.
It was time to get up.
He swung his legs out of the bed and crossed as quietly as possible to his closet. He took his clothes into the bathroom and got dressed while Luke silently slept on the couch. When he came back out, a ray of light from the bathroom fell upon where Luke slept and highlighted his broad, muscular chest.
Fuck. He’d known Luke had some excellent muscle definition based on the shirt he had borrowed for dinner, but that tight-fitting tee hadn’t done his body justice. His smooth chest spread like a mountain range with sweeping curves of muscle that extended to his well-rounded shoulder caps and into defined biceps. Farther south from his massive chest, rolling hills of muscles flowed across his stomach.
The blanket Marty had given Luke still covered his bottom half, which was a damn shame. He wanted to know if Luke had been boasting about the size of his junk to Christian or if he’d been telling the truth.
Based on the rest of Luke’s rather large body, Marty decided it had to be the latter.
When Luke turned over and faced the back of the couch, Marty tiptoed out of the apartment.
He inhaled the cool early morning air into his lungs, which helped dispel the gloom that had followed him out of his nightmare. Even though letting Luke stay had been the right decision, doing the right thing had done nothing to calm his anxiety.
What he needed was coffee and maybe some tamales.
Tellez Tamales and Barbacoa, which was a popular restaurant in Marty’s neighborhood, was only a short drive away. With any luck, he could be there and back before anyone was up, and surprise everyone with an early-morning feast.
Marty hopped in his car and made the drive to the restaurant, which was already packed. He wasn’t surprised. Everybody and their mother came here on the weekends to get their fix of tamales or menudo, and if you didn’t get there earlier enough, the restaurant sold out. Cars waited in long lines to place their to-go orders and even blocked traffic despite the security guards that tried to untangle the congestion.
The front parking lot was full, so Marty drove down the narrow alley behind the restaurant. There were a few spaces back there that most people didn’t take because they were hidden by the building. It was a little secret he’d learned from his father, and as soon as he cleared the brick structure, he saw an empty slot that he immediately took.
He patted his father’s lucky coin, which he kept in his pocket. “Thanks.”
As soon as he got out of his car, the spicy scent of cumin and masa drifted on the air. He took a hearty whiff, which triggered a flood of childhood memories.
He recalled the Christmas dinners with all the family piled into his parents’ house and the tamale-making parties his aunties sometimes threw just before the holidays. He and his sister would play with their older cousins while the women formed a tamale assembly line filled with laughter and love. Their husbands would sit out on the front lawn, drinking beer and corralling the kids.
Those had been some good times, but all that ended when his grandmother died. She had been the glue that held Marty’s big extended family together, and without her, the huge family gatherings grew less and less frequent until they disappeared altogether.
Now, he only saw his cousins or his aunts when someone got married or died.
Marty’s growling stomach brought him back to the present, so he entered the shadowed alley between Tellez and the laundromat next door. Normally he avoided narrow, dark paths, but he’d done it plenty of times in the past with no problem.
Today proved to be an exception.
Hushed voices greeted him as soon as he stepped into the small walkway. He expected to find some of the restaurant’s workers taking a break and smoking a cigarette. That wasn’t what he got.
Two men stood in profile to him. One was a muscular Hispanic guy dressed in a white tank top and jeans, and he’d just taken an envelope from the other man.
When the Latin guy turned to face him, Marty sucked in a breath.
“Martín?” the man in the white muscle shirt asked.
His cousin Roger stepped out of the shadows. A cautious smile spread across his tanned face as he glanced over his shoulder at the man who remained in the shadows. Marty couldn’t get a good look at the guy. All he saw was a flash of dark hair and tanned skin and that the man was wearing a suit.
What the hell was he so dressed up for? Even in the shadows, it made him stand out like a sore thumb.
“Roger?” He took his cousin’s outstretched hand, which was covered in some seriously scary tattoos, and shook it. The last time he had seen Roger was about two years ago, shortly before he got arrested for stealing a car. “What are you doing here?”
“Chillin’,” he said, standing in front of his friend and blocking Marty’s view of him. “And what’s with this Roger shit? It’s Rogelio,” he said with a proud jut of his chin.
“Sorry,” he said. His older cousin had gone by Roger for years, but when he took a turn down the wrong path in life, he suddenly became Rogelio again.
“I hear Sophia’s getting married.” He shoved his hands in his jeans, which hung so far below his waist he might as well not have worn them. “I guess my invitation got lost in the mail, huh?”
What could Marty say? If he’d stayed Roger, his cousin would have definitely gotten an invite. Rogelio hadn’t made the cut. Ever since he decided to live a life of crime, Marty’s mother made sure her family steered clear of him. That naturally meant he’d not been on the guest list.
“I guess,” he finally replied.
Rogelio hissed. “And Sophia and I used to be real close too.” His accent had gotten much thicker than Marty remembered. It was like he was trying to sound as stereotypically Mexican as possible. “We used to walk to school together every day.”
That was true. When they were younger, they had all been closer, but time and life’s choices had driven a giant wedge between Marty and this part of his family.
“Sorry about that, man.”
“No worries, cuz,” Rogelio said. He wrapped his arm around Marty’s shoulders and led him toward the front of the building and away from his friend. “I know Tía Alma doesn’t like me.”
She didn’t, but Marty wasn’t going to admit that. “You should be there.”
“You’re right,” he said with a nod. “I should, but I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”
Marty glanced back into the shadows where the man in the suit waited. “Is your friend not coming?”
Rogelio placed the envelope the man had given him in his back pocket. He then grabbed Marty’s head firmly in his hands and forced their eyes to meet. “Do me a favor. Okay?”
Marty couldn’t speak. His cousin had always been a little rough around the edges, but over the years, Rogelio’s edge had become razor-sharp. His grip on Marty’s head grew firm, and a crazed look flashed in his eyes. “Forget you saw me and my friend. Think you can do that?”
Marty nodded.
The psychotic glint to his eye vanished, and an appreciative smile spread across his face. “Now go get your tamales,” he said, gently pushing Marty toward the door. “I remember how much you like them.”
Marty didn’t say another word, but as he turned around and walked away, he heard whispering from the shadows.
“Do we have a problem?” the man in the suit asked with a barely discernable Spanish accent.
“Don’t worry,” his cousin replied. “I’ll take care of it.”
Marty picked up his pace and didn’t slow down until he was safely inside the restaurant and surrounded by dozens of people waiting to be served. He took the last spot in line and hugged himself in an effort to get his trembling body to stop shaking.
What the hell had his cousin and that man been doing in the alley, and what had Rogelio meant? What was he going to take care of?
Marty shook his head. No. He didn’t want to know. He had to do what his cousin had asked and forget he ever saw Rogelio or his friend.
That was exactly what he intended to do.
TRYING to balance the two cups of coffee and the bag of tamales from Tellez, Marty fumbled open the door to his garage apartment and then kicked it open.
Luke stood in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and a smile.
Hot damn. That was what he’d been hoping to see when he left, and he hadn’t been disappointed. Luke’s cup definitely runneth over.
Unfortunately, so did the coffee cups Marty was carrying. Seeing Luke in his almost-naked glory caused him to tilt the containers a little too far, spilling the hot contents down his hand and onto the floor.
“Shit!” he exclaimed as searing pain spread across the back of his hand.
A second later Luke stood in front of him, snatching the bag of food and one of the coffee cups out of his grasp. He placed them on the table next to the door and took Marty’s hand in his. “You okay?” he asked.
The way Luke moved fascinated him. He didn’t lumber through life the way Marty did. He acted decisively, like a man who always knew what to do or say. Marty envied that. Luke wiped away the liquid that dripped down Marty’s hand and then blew across his flesh to ease the burn.
If Marty died now, he’d go with a smile on his face.
“I’m fine,” Marty replied, and he really was. Luke was still in just his underwear. Third-degree burn or not, Marty counted this a big fat win. His cock clearly agreed. It came to life and throbbed for an introduction.
“It looks painful,” Luke replied, still examining the raw skin.
“I don’t even feel it,” he mumbled, unable to pull his sweeping gaze from Luke’s bare, smooth flesh.
Luke flicked Marty’s nose. “Hey, my eyes are up here.”
“Sorry,” he replied, fixing his gaze on Luke’s smiling blue eyes. A fiery burn scorched his cheeks, which hurt more than where the coffee had landed.
Luke chuckled. “No worries.” He turned around and aimed straight for the coffee and bag of food. Fuck. He looked just as good going as he did coming. “What did you bring?”
“Coffee and tamales,” Marty answered, trying to force his eyes from Luke’s perky, round butt.
Luke, who didn’t realize he was still being visually violated, smacked his lips. “I love them both!”
“What are you even doing up?” Marty asked, trying to focus his thoughts on something other than Luke’s flesh. “It’s still early.”
“I woke up when you left,” Luke answered after he opened the bag of tamales and inhaled the spicy goodness. He turned around and leaned against the table, thrusting his hips forward. “I guess you couldn’t sleep?”
How was Marty expected to answer questions when Luke did things like that? “I figured I might as well get up and do something productive,” he muttered before shaking the nasty thoughts from his head. He broke eye contact and took a sip of his coffee. “I got tamales for everyone and some coffee for us. I wasn’t sure how you took it, so I guessed.”
Luke removed the lid from the cup. “Black,” he said with a nod. “You did good.”
Marty laughed. “I figured. You government types always drink black coffee in the movies.”
Luke sipped his drink. “Maybe,” he said. “But we aren’t in the movies. This is real life. Don’t forget that.”
As if Marty could. He’d been trying to forget that the cartel might come knocking, and now he had to deal with whatever his cousin was doing in the alley this morning. His life seemed to be getting more complicated and dangerous by the minute.
“You okay?” Luke asked.
Marty nodded, but the worry that pulled down the corners of his lips told a different story. All he knew was that he didn’t want to talk about it right now. “I’ll be fine,” he finally said. He ambled over to the curtains and threw them aside, letting in some of the early-morning light. He closed his eyes and bathed in its warm embrace. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“I know,” Luke said. “I’ve put you in a bad situation, and I’m sorry.”
It would be nice if he could blame his troubles on someone else, but he couldn’t. “You didn’t do anything to me. I’m a big boy. I’m the one who got myself into this situation when I created Tim and then went looking for someone to pass off as my pretend boyfriend.”
“It’s not too late to get out of it.” Luke moved to stand by Marty and placed his hand on Marty’s shoulder. The weight of his warm hand suddenly made everything better. “I can still leave.”
“No.” Marty’s words came out more forcefully than he intended. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered and then shifted his gaze to the floor.
Luke hooked Marty’s chin with his thumb and index finger, bringing Marty’s eyes back to his. For such a strong man, his touch was soft and gentle. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more certain about something in my life,” Marty admitted. His gaze lingered on Luke’s lips. How would they feel against his? What did they taste like? Maybe he should lean in and find out.
“Okay, then.” Luke released Marty’s chin and then searched the floor. Marty took several deep breaths. If Luke hadn’t broken contact, Marty might have humiliated himself.
“Where are my jeans?” Luke asked, checking around the small sofa where he slept. “I know I left them here.”
“You did.” Marty retrieved Luke’s pants from the small chair in the corner where he had placed them after Luke had fallen asleep. “I folded them.”
“Thanks,” Luke said after he took the jeans from Marty and pulled them on. He opened Marty’s closet and inspected his wardrobe. He pulled out a blue T-shirt with Iron Man’s face on it. The caption above the drawing said Be a Hero!
“How many superhero shirts do you own?” Luke asked.
Marty shrugged. “I’ve never counted.”
Luke shoved shirt after shirt aside. “Superman, Thor, Batman, Batman, Batman, Batman and Robin, the Avengers, more Batman and—” He pulled out a black shirt with the Wonder Woman insignia on it. “Wonder Woman?” he asked with a slight grin.
“So what?” Marty asked, lowering his voice a few octaves. “She’s badass.”
“Yeah, she is. She’s my favorite.” He put on the shirt, which stretched nicely across his larger frame. “How do I look?”
If Marty answered right now, he’d manage only gibberish. How the hell did Luke turn a geeky Wonder Woman graphic tee into something so damn sexy?
“I look stupid, huh?” Luke asked as he inspected himself in the small mirror that hung next to the closet.
“Not at all,” Marty managed to choke out. “It looks much better on you.”
“Really?” Luke asked, staring at Marty through the mirror.
Marty gave him a thumbs-up for an answer.
Satisfied with the reply, Luke smiled at the outfit. “Any wedding plans for today that I should know about?”
Marty winced. With everything that had gone on, he’d completely forgotten. There was an event scheduled for today—a pool party at Christian’s. Since Sophia and Danny were foregoing the standard bachelor and bachelorette parties, Christian had decided to throw one final farewell-to-the-single-life extravaganza for everyone before the wedding.
After how shitty Christian had acted at the dinner last night, Marty suspected he’d be even more insufferable today.
“Yeah,” Marty finally answered.
“You don’t look too thrilled about it.”
“I’m not,” he said with a frown. “It’s a pool party at Christian’s.”
“I see why you’re not jumping for joy.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Marty said. “We’re not going.”
“What? Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous for you to be out and about,” Marty said. “Besides, you’ve got stuff to figure out. You can’t do that at a party.”
“I actually do my best thinking when I’m distracted,” Luke said.
Marty crossed his arms over his chest. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t have to,” Luke said with a shrug. “It’s just the way I work. If I mull over a problem, I never find the solution. Any answers I’m looking for usually come to me when I’m in the middle of doing something else. Like going to a pool party, for example.”
Marty groaned. “I do not want to go to Christian’s.”
“This isn’t about Christian. It’s about your sister.”
Marty hated Luke right now. “Fine,” he said. “But we’ll need to get you a suit. You may fit into my shirts, but my trunks would likely not make it past your thighs.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?” Luke asked with a frown.
Marty snorted. “Are you kidding me? There’s not a single ounce of fat on your body.”
“And how would you know?” Luke asked with a suggestive arch of his eyebrows.
A familiar warmth spread across Marty’s tanned cheeks. It wasn’t as if Luke didn’t know Marty had been ogling him, but Marty sure as hell wasn’t going to admit he had every visible curve of Luke’s body memorized. “I’ll take you to the mall after we eat,” he finally responded. He grabbed the bag of tamales and his coffee off the table and nodded to the door.
“Where are we going?” Luke asked.
Marty held up the bag. “To my parents’. These aren’t just for you.”
“What?” Luke asked, a look of pretend terror descending upon his sculpted features. “I have to share?”
Marty rolled his eyes and shooed Luke out the door.
Luke responded by smacking him on the ass and bounding down the steps.
“You’ll pay for that,” Marty called out from the top of the stairs.
Luke grinned up at him from the driveway. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
More than anything else, that was exactly what Marty wanted. He wanted to actually catch the sexy-as-fuck Wonder-Woman-loving FBI agent for real and not just for pretend, but that was a dream that would never come true.
Marty shoved his apartment keys into the pocket of his cargo shorts and the cool surface of his father’s lucky coin brushed against his fingers. He rubbed it once and then launched himself down the stairs, laughing the entire time.