Neutral Zone Trap - Bianca Sommerland Page 0,27

want in the future. You don’t even know what you want now.

Very true, but that concerned him as well. Since when was he this indecisive?

Taking a look at the time on his phone he sighed and pushed off the couch. He had a few days off—and no say about it because the captain was worried he’d get himself shot with how many hours he was putting in and how tired he always was. Might as well put that time to good use and figure out what to do with the boy who’d gotten his hooks in him.

Calling past midnight might give the wrong impression, but showing up at the club where they’d first met and seeing if he was there? Good neutral territory. He’d have the option of making whatever happened a casual hookup or…maybe more.

I’ll know once I get there.

Less than twenty minutes later, he was regretting leaving the damn house. He ordered a beer from a waiter he didn’t recognize, taking a sip and hardly tasting it, his eyes never leaving the stage. As always, there were performers up there. Moving to the music, enticing the crowd.

Usually an enjoyable show to watch.

Except one of those men belonged to him.

Don’t even go there. You cut him loose.

Perhaps, but he’d done it for the boy’s own good, not to have him do whatever the fuck he was doing now. Stripping on stage? Damn it, Braxton was a professional hockey player. He was risking his career and for what? Was he that desperate for attention?

The little black mask he was wearing wouldn’t save him if anyone figured out who he was. The urge to storm onto the stage and drag him off became more than misplaced possessiveness. Someone needed to protect the boy from his own foolishness.

But when he caught Braxton’s gaze on him, he realized this wasn’t a young man simply being a little wild. Braxton began to move more provocatively. As though to tempt Ryan. As though to test his reactions.

How often had he come here and done this, hoping Ryan would show up? Couldn’t have been too often, Ryan would’ve heard something from his friends who worked here. Unless…Braxton wasn’t stupid. Terry or Gordon would’ve dragged him off the stage by his ear. The owner, however, probably enjoyed the additional eye candy.

Either way, if he was reading the situation right, Braxton was using this to get Ryan’s attention. He couldn’t encourage that. If he left now, hopefully Braxton would see his ridiculous plan was ineffective and maybe then they could have a real conversation.

He couldn’t make himself move though.

Part of him felt responsible for this. Granted, he hadn’t approved of Braxton’s pushy attempts to contact him before, but this was a whole different level. If the boy was his sub he’d—

But he’s not.

Not yet.

Ryan ground his teeth, taking another gulp of beer and considering his options. He could always speak to the owner and have Braxton barred from the club, but letting the man know he was interested in Braxton wasn’t ideal either. He liked his privacy and that kind of drama went against his every instinct. It could also put Braxton in danger. Some of Ryan’s high profile arrests had connections who’d pay good money to learn about any weaknesses Ryan might have.

Like it or not, Braxton had quickly become one of them. He’d never forgive himself if the boy became a target because of him. Which made the idea of seeing him again seem even worse, but now that he had, he couldn’t completely abandon the idea.

Movement from the edge of the stage caught his eye. He recognized two of the players from Braxton’s team, neither looking too thrilled. Another gulp of beer and Ryan caught Braxton’s eyes again. His muscles tensed as Braxton dropped to his knees, drawing cheers and whistles from the crowd. He was a damn good dancer. Fucking sexy as hell up there. From the gleam in his eyes between the slits of the mask, Ryan could tell Braxton had shut out everyone except Ryan. As though he was dancing for him alone.

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face, finished his beer, then stood.

For both their sakes, he had to ignore the temptation in those eyes. If he didn’t, he’d resent his hand being forced in such a reckless way. He’d have more reasons to convince himself keeping his distance was the smartest choice.

He’d see Braxton again. On his terms.

That in mind, he turned and walked out of the club without looking