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“Yeah.”

“Great.I like to leave plenty early, so as long as you’re not up near Burbank, I’ve got plenty of time.”

I stowed the duffel in the trunk and slid into the front seat.“Gardena.”

“Oh, perfect.”He backed out of the garage, hit the remote, then continued down the driveway.“So can I ask what you’re up to today?Not that you have to tell me…”

But, trusting him in a way I couldn’t explain, I did.The parts I didn’t mind people knowing, anyhow.

Chapter12

Jeremy

“Can you repeat that?Super slow.Like I’m an idiot.”I didn’t like using that word, but sometimes Andreas needed me to use language he understood.

“I just got in a bar fight.”The six-foot-five brunet god hunched over his iced tea as we sat in the back of a seedy bar in West Hollywood.

Personally, I would’ve chosen a nice patio with a breeze off the ocean.

My client’s face, however, would’ve garnered way too much attention.So much for brazening this out.

“And why were you in a bar fight?”

“Because a guy called me a?—”

I held up my hand.“Moving on.”Whether the aggrieved party had used a derogatory term toward homosexuals wasn’t the point.That Andreas had felt the need to retaliate with his fists was.

He huffed.

“So the guy’s not pressing charges.”

“Because he’s a pussy.”

“Jesus, Andreas.He’s not pressing charges.That makes him your best friend.And don’t use that fucking word—with me or anyone else.It’s misogynistic and trust me, you don’t need that biting you in the ass as well.”I pointed to his forehead.“You swear that cut is the only injury.”

He rolled his eyes.Then winced.

“Right.And the black eye.That’s a given.”The forehead we might’ve been able to explain.A shiner had many fewer options.“And this guy says he’s not going to the tabloids?”

Andreas shrugged.“The cop said the guy swears he’s not.Something about not wanting his wife to know where he was.”He shifted his gaze around the bar as if worried we’d be overheard.Not likely, but I didn’t mind the prudence.

“The bruised knuckles aren’t going to clue her in?”I rubbed my face.“Okay, we’ll work off the assumption he knows it’s not really in his best interests to share his exploits with the tabloids.”

“Because I’ll tell them he called me?—”

“Shut the fuck up, Andreas.I swear to God.”

“No one’s here.”

He wasn’t wrong.We were tucked into a booth by the johns and, at this hour, the place didn’t even have a server.Just a six-foot-two stone-faced bartender who had showed precisely zero interest in us.Frankly, she scared me.

“So you’re supposed to be at the charity gala tomorrow night.”

This time, his wince appeared sincere—the first chink in his armor.“Yeah, I’m supposed to be escorting Norah.”

“Well, that’s completely out.”

“Makeup—”