Page 140 of Twisted Little Game

Tate, Maks, and I stay by the counter, finishing off the tops of the pies.

“I hate you for reminding me about that, by the way,” Maks tells me. “Drowning in dick was nice. I miss it.”

“Give me a break. You could find a hot guy any night of the week.”

“True,” Tate says. “I can think of, like, six guys back on campus who would probably beg to get railed by you. You’re not quite as hot as Roman, but you’d make people very happy, too.”

“Shucks, Tate. Thanks,” Maks says. “It’s not just about hookups. It’s…”

He trails off, but I know what he’s thinking.

Maks has been struggling to figure out what direction he wants to go in, now that he’s no longer in the family business.

“Maks. Do you know that I am friends with the head of campus security at Crimson?” I ask him.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“The Crimson security is absolute shit, to be honest. But I do know they fired one of those shit security guards last month, and they’re in need of a new one.”

“Are you saying I should be a shitty security guard?”

“You are fucking kidding me, right? You would be the best security guard Crimson College has ever seen in history.”

Maks nods, looking down at the counter. “What kind of things do the Crimson security guards do?”

“Make sure the students are safe, both from each other and themselves. You’ll see some wild things, Maks. But how bad could it be? It’s not…”

“Not the Bratva,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

He is silent for a while, but the fact that he doesn’t refuse immediately makes me know that he is considering it.

And I know it would be good for Maks.

Tate nods. “I know I’d feel a billion times safer with you there rather than one of those guys who stand around playing slot machine games on their phones.”

“You will have the job,” I say firmly.

The sound of the front door swinging open fills the house. A moment later, football history walks through the door.

“I smell cinnamon,” Christopher Landrey says as he walks over to Tate, putting his arm around him in a hug. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Hey, Dad,” Luke calls over from the area by the TV. “They just showed one of your old highlights!”

“Glad to hear it,” Christopher says.

“Dad, this is Roman, my boyfriend,” Tate tells him, smiling. “Roman, this is my dad.”

Christopher reaches out to shake my hand, but then thinks again and comes in for a hug.

“It’s a true pleasure, Roman,” Christopher says. “You protected my son’s life. I have to say that I’ve been struggling to even begin thinking of how I can ever repay you.”

“You don’t need to do anything. Being a part of Tate’s life is a gift on its own. He did a lot to protect himself, too.”

“I was really worried about him, sending him off to that school. Luke said it would be good, and that he would be well taken care of. But I didn’t even know how bad the situation really was.”

“My fault, honestly,” Tate says. “I didn’t know it was a true threat, either.”