Page 1 of Toxic Devotion

Chapter One

Neil

HE WATCHED the condensation run down the side of his glass. He hadn’t taken a single sip of the whiskey and the liquid’s amber color was getting lighter as the ice cubes melted. He brushed his fingers down the side of the glass, trying his best not to think. Thinking could sometimes be his worst enemy. If he began to think, then he’d likely begin to remember, and there was too much fucked up shit in his head that he didn’t want to remember.

He was sitting at the bar of his upscale DC hotel. He often found that the more exclusive the hotel, the less attention he attracted. That, and everyone was always more discreet, and discretion was something he greatly appreciated. Especially in his line of work.

He’d been a quiet kid. Smart but too serious for most other kids. Back then, he’d thought he might go into accounting or perhaps become a financial analyst or an auditor. That’s what he’d been headed toward in college when he’d been headhunted by the CIA. Even all these years later, he still wasn’t sure what the recruiter had seen in him that made him think he’d be a good asset for the Agency. His first big operation had started out incredibly successful, and then it had crashed and burned epically a few years later.

Losing officers and assets was a part of the game, but Derek Stanton stood out to him like no one else ever would. He’d put together a team of outcast Marines who were already damnedgood at their jobs, but together? With other Marines they didn’t have to hide their sexualities or disabilities from? The Black Raiders had excelled beyond his wildest dreams. Then he’d lost them all. Only one to death, but the loss was much the same. He kept an eye on them even now, pulling whichever strings he needed to in order to ensure their lives and careers stayed on track. He felt he owed them at least that much.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he pushed his glass away knowing he wouldn’t be taking another sip tonight. Drowning himself in alcohol never worked. Nowadays, it simply gave him one hell of a headache in the morning. He wasn’t getting any younger. In fact, he was getting closer to forty than he liked to admit.

He turned on his bar stool, just about to head out of there when a man walked through the door. It was as if his presence changed the atmosphere of the room the second his black oxford shoes hit the beige carpet. His dark hair was glistening from the raindrops caught in it. He was wearing a three-piece suit. Tailored. Expensive. A stylish navy-blue color that suited his tan skin perfectly. His five o’clock shadow was the only part of him that looked just the tiniest bit unintentional.

When he walked closer and his dark eyes landed on Neil, it was like a kick to the chest and air seemed to elude him. He knew exactly what this man was. Could see it in his eyes. In the way he held himself. The way he scanned the room and kept a cautious eye on everyone around him.

He walked right up next to Neil and placed a hand on the bar as he leaned toward the bartender.

“Whiskey. Neat. Make it a double,” the man said, his voice deep and commanding.

Neil suppressed a shiver.

The bartender placed a tumbler on the bar and Neil watched the man throw back the whole three ounces of whiskey and arched a brow at him.

“Rough day?”

The man turned toward him as he put down the tumbler. He looked at Neil for a very long second before he said, “You could say that.”

Neil’s lips quirked, decision already made.

“Want me to make it better?”

The man leaned against the bar and ran his gaze over Neil ever so slowly. In a place like this, he might mistake Neil for an escort, but if the man was what he thought he was, he’d know the truth. They were both dangerous men and together? He had a feeling they’d be explosive.

“You got a room?” the man asked, the hungry look he gave Neil making him fight to repress a shiver.

He nodded, slipping off his stool to lead the way to the elevator. He felt the man behind him the whole way, his pulse thrumming in his veins in anticipation. They stepped into the elevator, and he hit the button for his floor and the second the doors closed behind them, he looked at the man who was either going to kill him or give him the best night of his life. Right then, he didn’t care which it would be.

He ran his gaze over the man, enjoying the way his suit fit so damned well. He had a thing for expensive men in expensive suits. It almost never ended well for him.

“You haven’t given me your name.”

Neil looked up at him, his lips pulling into a wry smile.

“You don’t want it.”

“Was that an observation or a statement?”

“You can call me Gray.”

The man stared into his eyes and said, “Seems fitting enough.”

He’d been told many times how his eyes looked like a lifeless gray void. He didn’t mind. It kept people from trying to get too close.

“I’m Marco.”

The elevator came to a stop with a low ding, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty hallway.