Hauling everyone’s stuff wasn’t supposed to be part of that morning’s deal, but nobody sucked cock as persuasively as River did.

Moving lodgings just a day into their trip was a little annoying, especially since the new place was further away from the strip, but Zeph wouldn’t take River’s nonchalance for an answer.

The very least they should be doing was moving motels. Zeph itched to get the cops involved, but River would freak the fuck out on him if he so much as breathed the word.

Honestly, he couldn’t blame the guy. Zeph didn’t know Vegas well enough to know the chances of getting some homophobic desk jockey, but despite his outrageous flamboyance, River didn’t deliberately bash his head on that particular wall. Which made it more frustrating that trouble had found them anyway.

On the bright side, the new motel came with a perk: access to a gym just down the street.

Which sounded like the perfect break for Zeph, who wasn’t used to sharing space so intensively with so many people. Sharing the room with River was just the beginning—everyone went out for brunch together, and they were talking about hitting up one of the outlet malls or something downtown together.

They’d already made it clear that sticking around them was very optional in the mornings and afternoons until showtimes, though Zeph was starting to reconsider his plans of spending those times on his own.

But River was a lot more touchy-feely than even he realized. Zeph had forgotten his habits—like putting his hand on Zeph’s shoulder and leaning into him like a wall while he was talking to other people, or touching his back or arm or hand while talking to him. He was starting to get overstimulated by the contact.

Plus, he needed to work out his frustration at not being able to do more about this creepy creeper.

The gym was set up much the same as any other, with a small free weight area and the usual machines. After a cursory glance around, Zeph chose a lat pulldown machine so he could mindlessly warm up and think.

He exchanged nods with the other guys in there who looked like they could be regulars. At least his build and size gave him instant respect in this space.

Whoever it was, the card had made it clear they’d seen River at the show last night, and they knew which room he was in. So they must have seen him, but it still wasn’t enough to make him back off.

That was not jealousy, and he’d only defaulted to him because most stalkers were men, he told himself.

A stab of emotion went through his chest and he pushed out a quick breath, leaning over to push the pin into the next weight down in the stack. If he had brain space to think, he wasn’t going hard enough.

He hated that River was just shrugging off the creeper problem. He didn’t want River to be distraught and hide away, but the response reminded him too much of…

Fuck. Fine. His brain was going to go there, like it or not.

He rolled his head back as he counted down a rest break.

River reminded him of Anton. They’d been best friends with benefits for a few years, many years ago now—before he’d even met River the first time. God, he’d been young then.

Anton had picked up a casual stalker. Not the kind to leave dead animals on his doorstep, but the kind who showed up at his retail shop every day, and sent presents.

But Anton had been closeted, and too afraid to go to the cops, and he’d wound up dying in a car crash while trying to escape the guy when he started tailing him home.

A muscle twitched in Zeph’s jaw and he gripped the bar, grunting as he pulled the bar down, widening his stance.

Fucker hadn’t gotten nearly enough jail time for that.

Zeph wasn’t ready to have River go through anything near what Anton did. He wanted to head trouble off at the first sight of it.

But he couldn’t do anything unless River was ready to recognize the seriousness of the situation. And in fairness, River was right—so far, it had just been one bunch of flowers.

Next time, though, if there was one? Zeph wasn’t going to let him get away with brushing it off and changing the subject. Even if he didn’t want to go to the cops, Zeph could take matters into his own hands.

If some asshole wanted to get his hands on River and River didn’t like it, well, Zeph would find a way to break his fingers one by one.

If River wasn’t going to look after himself, Zeph was going to damn well do it for him. And it had nothing to do with jealousy. He’d do the same for any damn queen in their group.

The thought snuck into the back of his mind that the fact that it was River did make him more passionate. But it just meant he’d be more enthusiastic about finger-breaking.

Zeph let the weights drop onto the stack and leaned over to clip into the floor for pull-ups. Time for less thought, more sweat.