Sex hung in the air like a cloud. Not the smell of it—the bedroom door had been closed the whole time he’d been gone—but the anticipation. It had been what drove him from the hotel room in the first place.

Lars set down two pizza boxes on the coffee table, glancing up at the bedroom door. There were sounds from behind it, but no grunting or thumping. They were done, and would be coming out soon.

He had a half a mind not to be here when they did.

It was bad enough he had to ignore the hollow screams in his head about how wrong this was. What the fuck was Milo thinking? Then again, he could almost—almost—understand what drove the guy. There’d barely been enough time for a quick wank in the shower these past few days, what with all the shit that had been happening.

And that brief moment in the elevator? He’d never been that aroused around someone who was still wearing their clothes. And the way she’d trembled when he’d almost touched her? It was like the whiff of fear that came from prey before the predator struck. Or, in his case, watched while another predator claimed the dainty gazelle.

His dick twitched at the thought of what had happened behind that closed door. What the girl had looked like, sans-robe. What Finn had done to her on that white—

The door opened. He looked down, flipping open a pizza box’s lid. “Hope you’re hungry. Got one with just about everything on it. The other one’s for desert.”

Not hearing a response, Lars hazarded a look up. Milo stood in the doorway, nearly filling it, face unreadable but cheeks still spotted with faint color. Both hands hung at his side, the one on the right clenching, releasing, clenching to some unknown rhythm.

Lars grabbed a slice of pizza and straightened. “Am I interrupting?” he asked dryly, before biting off the tip of the slice. He chewed for a second, and then lifted his eyebrows. “I could go get ice or something,” he said through a mouthful of cheese and salami.

Milo dropped his eyes and went into the bathroom. The faucet came on. While it was still running, Cora emerged from the room, all bright eyed and disheveled. She had a shell-shocked look on her face. That good, huh?

Lars slumped in an armchair, trying to get through the pizza as fast as he could, eyes glued to the TV screen. He’d done a quick recon before he’d left to make sure everything was still sealed up and that no one lurked in the street below.

Cora sank onto the edge of the sofa. She’d dressed in the same clothes as earlier, but sat stiffly as if they chafed her. When he looked at her face, she kept her eyes straight ahead, a slow blush staining her cheeks the longer he looked.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Her blush intensified from pink to red. She gave him a brief look, barely long enough to focus on his face, and then took a slice of pizza from the box. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Her voice was husky and rough. She cleared her throat and, without looking, added, “Thanks for the food.”

Milo came out of the bathroom, hesitated, and then took the chair opposite Lars, leaving Cora stranded on the two-seat sofa like a piece of driftwood.

Fucking weirdos.

Lars grabbed another piece of pizza, and then cracked open one of the cans of cherry soda. He put it down on the coffee table, close to Cora, and then opened another one for himself.

He didn’t bother to get one for Milo—the man detested soda. He’d probably make himself another cup of coffee in a few minutes.

When the silence became too much for him to bear, Lars dropped the uneaten half of his slice of pizza back in the box and made a show of cracking his knuckles. It drew the eyes of both Cora and Milo, the latter watching him with wary anticipation.

“So…when’s the wedding?”

Cora stopped chewing.

Finn put his barely touched pizza slice down on a napkin and then laid his hands on his knees as if impatient for the rest of Lars’s speech.

“You know…” Lars gave a shrug, pushing out his bottom lip. “Where you’ll live? How many kids you’re going to have? Should you go with home schooling, private, public? That kind of thing. Are you going to convert—” Lars pointed at Milo, and then gave Cora a quick, hard look “—is it racist of me to assume that you’re Catholic?—” and then focused on Milo again “—or will you keep living in sin?”

Milo didn’t move his eyes from Lars as he stretched out a hand and slid the remote off the coffee table. The pair on the television had been having an animated discussion about their impending bank robbery or somesuch nonsense, but a single stab of Milo’s thumb turned the screen black.

If it had been a standoff, Lars would have won.

Milo rose to his feet. “Wake me at two.” And then he lumbered off to the bedroom, closing the door silently behind him.

Lars would have preferred it if the guy had slammed it behind him. This quiet, fuming man was nothing like the Milo he knew. Admittedly, things hadn’t always been great for Finn. He’d had his fair share of shit hands dealt to him. But he’d never sulked. He’d never thrown tantrums and stopped listening to reason because he wanted something.

Lars turned to the girl. She held a piece of pizza in her hands, long forgotten, and stared at nothing.

“You’d make a pretty bride,” he said, his voice deadpan. “But he’d make a terrible fucking husband.”

Lars stood, intent on going to the window that faced the window so he could survey the street. Cora’s voice stopped him.

“I’m twenty, not twelve.”

He turned back to her, eyebrows lifting. “Barely.”

Anger boiled in her eyes, her pink mouth set in a thin line. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“Would if I could, bunny.” Lars flicked his hand to the bedroom door. “But I’d never leave a man behind again. Not for the likes of you.”

“The likes of—” she cut off, and put her hands on her hips. If she hadn’t been so small, so young, so goddamn cheeky, it might have been an intimidating posture. As it was, she just looked like a kid who hadn’t gotten enough candy. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lars cocked his head, silent as he went over to the window. In the street below, a dark car drove past. It stopped at the intersection, paused just long enough to make his shoulders tighten, and then turned and disappeared down a side street.

A hand grabbed his arm. “Hey, I’m talking—”

Lars spun. He had the girl by her wrist, barely stopping his other hand in time to avoid breaking her arm. They stared at each other, her eyes wide and his narrowed, as if they’d both just realized what had almost happened.

He hurriedly released her. “Get some sleep. There’s another long drive in your near future.”

She massaged her wrist as she backed up and headed for the bedroom.

“Oh no,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the couch. “Out here where I can see you.”

“I can’t sleep on a couch.”

“Have you ever tried?”

Her mouth became that thin line again, and she drew a breath big enough to puff out her chest. But instead of the tantrum he’d expected, she lay down on the couch, grabbed one of the scatter cushions for a pillow, and turned her back to the room.

Lars studied the street for a few seconds, and then went and turned off the living room light. Darkness instantly reclaimed its space. He slunk back to the window, studying the empty street for what seemed like hours.

Well, at least they’d gotten it out of their system. Tomorrow, Cora’d be back with her cartel buddies, and he and Milo would be heading back to Albuquerque. Maybe, this time, he’d convince Milo to stay at his place for a week or so. Regroup. Milo’s apartment was a sad, lonely place. He could call up some of his friends. They could get stoned, play some beer pong…fuck insignificant others…high school shit.

That’d get Milo’s head out of the clouds. And wasn’t Heather due to come out of rehab sometime this month? They wouldn’t be able to get stoned, not around her, but they could still have some fun. Movies and shit.

Fuck, who was he kidding? Milo was happiest when he was armed to teeth and trigger happy. Lars put his head against the window, watching his breath mist up the glass as seconds flowed by like syrup.

Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of Cora’s breathing as it evened out and became heavy with sleep.