Page 4 of Hold Back
“Interview. Didn’t get the job.” He didn’t feel like explaining that he was the one who’d walked out.
Aaron’s expression was pitying and somehow that made him feel worse.
“I’m sorry, Red. Do you want me to call Bruce?”
“No, don’t bother your Daddy.”
Bruce was Red’s best friend from way back when, and Red knew Bruce would drop everything if Aaron called. He was always loyal to his friends.
“I can drown my sorrows by myself just fine. It’s okay. One drink, I promise,” Red said, as Aaron opened his mouth to object. “You know I don’t drink to excess.”
Aaron grunted but he didn’t push it. Neither did he move. Red raised an eyebrow and finally Aaron picked up a glass and went to pull his favorite beer.
The bartender was a friend, a boy wrapped up inside a huge man. He believed he’d never find love because he wasn’t a young twink. But Red had introduced him to a Daddy who loved the challenge of a big man, and the boy had blossomed. Red never paid for a drink when Aaron was the bartender and he didn’t this time.
Red thanked Aaron and stuffed several notes into the tip jar. He carried his glass over to a corner and stared into his beer for a long time, only looking up when a shadow fell over him. He narrowed his eyes, not recognizing the rumpled man dressed in biker leathers who stood in front of him, although he had an idea who he might be.
“Red Baxter?”
“Who’s asking?” Red growled.
“Mo Carstairs.”
Red gave him an unfriendly glower. “The answer’s still no.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t care. Let’s play eight-ball.”
“Why?”
“I wanna hang about for a while before I go back and tell Quinn it was a waste of time just like I told him. May as well play pool while I wait.” At Red’s suspicious glower, he said, “I’ve got no skin in this game. I’m just a bodyguard like you.”
“That ain’t true, though, is it? I got your history too.”
Carstairs pulled out a chair, swung it around and sat down, leaning his arms on the back. “I don’t care what you do, Baxter. We play. I go away. You keep looking for another job.”
Red’s scowl deepened. “Quinn has a big mouth.”
“He does,” Carstairs agreed. “Wanna play?” He nodded at the empty table.
“Yeah, why not.” Red drained the last of his beer and took the glass over to the bar. The sooner he played, the sooner he got Carstairs off his back.
The game proved more enjoyable than he expected. They were evenly matched. Carstairs took the first game, Red the second.
Carstairs raised an eyebrow. “Best of three?”
Red nodded. “Best of three. Then I’m going home.”
Only that didn’t happen. Three hours later they were still playing. Red had lost track of how many he’d won and lost. He was too busy swapping yarns about working in the security industry. Red wasn’t surprised they knew so many of the same people. It was a small sector to work in. Clients changed firms, bodyguards moved onto new jobs.
Mo…somewhere in the day he became Mo…looked up just as he was about to take a shot. “Uh-oh. Be prepared for fireworks.”
Red furrowed his brow until he saw a young man hurrying toward them, his expression furious. He knew that expression only too well.
“You were supposed to be home two hours ago,” Joseph Holden snapped.
Mo wrapped him up in one meaty arm. “Quinn asked me to interview a potential candidate for Biker Daddy Bodyguards. I called Con to let him know.”
The fun was over. Red put down his stick.
