Chapter Four

“Isaiah, you’re my best mate, right? I need a favor.”

Isaiah narrowed his eyes and glared at oncoming cars as he navigated the traffic in Los Angeles. He’d spent the day at his doctor’s office having a full physical to ready himself for the coming season. The kickoff of official training wasn’t that far away, and he wanted to ensure that the doc would give him a clean bill of health.

“My physical went fine today, Ian. Thanks for asking,” he replied, turning at a busy intersection and reluctantly stopping to let a guy pull into a spot on the street in front of a bunch of restaurants and bars. He’d just left one with the team’s general manager, and he was ready to go home. “And my dinner with Masiello went fine as well.”

“I know that the meeting went fine. It was great, and Masiello called me five minutes after he’d left you at valet parking. They love you. You win football games and keep your name out of the papers and your dick out of strippers,” Ian said, his tone a combination of stressed and worried.

If Masiello was happy, then it wasn’t about him. “What’s going on?”

“Victor was denied asylum.”

Isaiah didn’t need a reminder of who Victor was. They’d had an amazing night together, a breakfast cooked by Isaiah, and then another round of blow jobs in the kitchen before he’d left. They’d texted a few times, mostly about the art project Victor was helping Evan with, but some were flirty. Dirty. And very tempting. But they hadn’t gotten back together. Not because he didn’t want to…but because he did.

Sex he could handle. Getting off was so much more fun when another person was involved, but he didn’t want anything emotional. Victor had emotional potential. He didn’t know why, but he just knew it. So…no second helpings. He’d loved Stephen. You didn’t get struck by lightning twice.

“How’s he taking it?” he asked, already sure he knew the answer.

“He’s drinking in a bar. Alone,” Ian replied. “That’s never good.”

“No shit.” Isaiah resumed driving, glancing at the clock and calculating how long it would take to get home and in bed. “Why are you calling me? Why aren’t you headed to the bar?”

“I’m in Miami.”

“Why are you in Miami?”

“Making money. Why the fuck else would I be sweating my English ass off in Miami if I wasn’t making money?”

Fair point. Ian was a good guy, but nothing distracted him from the green.

“Who are you lying to in Miami?” Isaiah couldn’t help teasing.

“Matt Ames and a prominent person you aren’t on the list to know about,” he said, his accent perfectly suiting the smugness in his tone.

“Matt’s already a client.”

He huffed out a huge sigh of exasperation and ignored him. “I need you to go and get Victor out of the bar before the press find him.”

“Why me? You have an office full of minions who can go retrieve a drunk client.” Isaiah balked; the last thing he wanted to do was to find himself back in Victor’s immediate orbit. It wasn’t a good idea.

“The minions I would trust to do this are with me in Miami or elsewhere,” Ian replied, his tone reverting to the one he used when he knew he was asking for a huge favor but would never repay it, no matter what he said. “You guys hit it off. He trusts you.”

“We came several times with each other’s dicks in each other’s mouths,” he answered, knowing that his characterization wasn’t really accurate. It had been more than that. He liked Victor, even when they hadn’t been getting off. He was fun and easy to talk to. He made him laugh.

“Whatever. You guys hit it off, and you’ve been ostensibly texting about Evan when I know you really just want to fuck each other again.” Isaiah didn’t say anything. Ian would know that he’d hit a portion of the truth. “Please. Go get him and pour him into his apartment before the press finds him. I’ll owe you. Please.”

Isaiah pulled over, sliding into a spot to stew over this turn of events. He could turn down Ian; he’d done it before. But Victor was another question, especially when he knew what this meant for him. He’d merely said that it would be “really bad,” but the fear that had passed briefly over his face had been real. Isaiah had almost pulled Victor to him at that moment, wanting nothing more than to protect him from it, but Victor quickly steered it back to sex.

And Isaiah had been willing to go there with him.

But he couldn’t do that tonight.

He sighed and signaled to return to traffic. Evan was with his mother for the night, so he didn’t have to rush home. “What’s the address?”