Chapter Four

It shouldn’t have come as any surprise that the new frequent flyer at the coffee shop would be acquainted with BB from the gym across the street. Although the man didn’t look like the typical knuckle-draggers that he’d see go in and out of the gym on a daily basis, there wasn’t any other logical reason for a guy who looked like him to be in this area of town. Tessler was also smart enough to know the guy wasn’t coming to the shop for the awesome coffee. The coffee was average at best—not horrible, but certainly not a specially blended hybrid from the earthy-crunchy hippies of Seattle, either.

Another clue was that the man’s shirts weren’t busting at the seams with overly enhanced muscle mass like the other baboons at the gym, and he walked with a serious limp and the aid of a cane instead of the swagger of a body builder on display before a panel of judges. The new guy didn’t need an oiled body or cat-like prowl when he walked to be gorgeous. He’d certainly managed to catch Tessler’s attention with nothing more than his clumsy awkwardness and a killer smile that bordered on being shy.

Tessler knew BB’s special skills at the gym were in physical therapy, so it made perfect sense the reason the mystery man would be at the gym was for sessions with BB, and not for another six hour workout along with the others. He was there for BB’s help with whatever had caused his need for that cane, and then he’d be moving on. Tessler wondered if he’d ever get the nerve to talk to the guy before his sessions with BB were completed, or if he’d let another missed opportunity haunt his dreams.

There was too much at stake. At least, that was the excuse Tessler always used to keep himself hidden away in his Glendale, California apartment. To be honest, it was much larger than the typical apartment considering it was a remodeled factory. The building housed the coffee shop on the street level, his four thousand square feet of spacious living that occupied the entire second floor, and a loft that he had added to create a partial third floor. He had more room than most of the people living happily in suburbia.

His master bedroom was enormous with a trendy, king-sized bed that sat almost at the floor level and was covered with black sheets and a thick, black comforter and matching pillows. Two more spare bedrooms were part of the apartment, although he barely stepped foot inside them. Tessler spent most of his time in either his bedroom or the living room, which had a spiral staircase that led up to the loft and served as his writing cave. Another door in the far corner of his writing space allowed him access to a private area on the roof. There was also a sprawling kitchen off of the living room, boasting restaurant-quality appliances, which Tessler used on a regular basis to create lavish gourmet meals for himself to eat on the roof anytime the weather permitted.

But he had no one to share it with.

It was sometimes a lonely existence, but it kept him safe, and for the most part, he was happy. The most difficult part of his life was keeping all the various pieces of it as private as possible. With two well-known identities playing against each other, he wondered how much longer he could do this dance before the gravitational pull merged the three to become one. His goal was to eventually blend it all together, but that’d be much further down the road; he certainly couldn’t risk doing something like that now. But to live his life as himself while fully enjoying both the entities he’d created would be a dream come true. Perhaps one day he’d have it all, but for today he’d continue to work hard and live his life in the shadows, concealing his real identity in order to protect the other two. It was the only way it made any sense at all.

Tessler greeted the friendly, blonde barista with the candy-apple red lips at the counter inside the coffee shop. The twinkle in her eyes and the sexy lift of her mouth always gave away how badly she craved his attention. It would be so fucking easy for him to bring her upstairs to his bed, but his heart wouldn’t be in it. It wasn’t the touch of a woman he ached for, although he’d certainly gone down that route before when he needed to scratch an itch. His passion was elsewhere—with the rougher touch of strong, calloused hands stroking his body and beard stubble abrading his skin enough to leave it red and raw.

Even that guilty pleasure was left to rare and ridiculously over planned hook-ups and a yearly extended vacation to Key West, which he took around his birthday. It was several weeks of being his true self, not one of his alter egos, and having enough faceless, emotionless sex to last him the rest of the year. Every one of them would be nameless fucks, except for one man who was also the only repeat encounter Tessler had every year he’d returned to the tropical paradise.

There was something to be said for blending in and looking just like any other horny college kid on summer break. Although, he was far removed from that time in his life; maybe not so much in years lived, but how he’d managed to live those years. Sometimes it felt like he’d lived a thousand lifetimes in the twenty-six he’d completed, and soon he’d be marking number twenty-seven.

Hard to believe.

Tessler paid for his coffee then used the key that allowed only he himself to use the private stairway that led up to his second floor apartment. Hearing the deadbolt of the large, metal door of his home slide into the locked position felt like a warm embrace, and it made him feel safe. He scanned the living room of what he now considered to be his sanctuary as his eyes settled on the floor-to-ceiling windows with the arched tops. Dropping his keys onto a small, hand-carved table that sat in the entryway beside the door, he walked across the room to enjoy the view for a moment.

Tessler leaned against the original red brick wall that framed the windows and sipped his coffee, watching the traffic move along in front of the gym and down the length of the street below as pedestrians strolled about on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon in Southern California, and he’d be spending it inside working to meet his next deadline. Nothing about that made him feel bad, because in a little more than a week he’d be flying south for his nice, long sabbatical of debauchery.

The anticipation made Tessler smile. He really needed this vacation, so much so, his skin burned with need at the thought of his body being manhandled and doing the same himself. The only thing standing between him and being pressed beneath a hot, sweaty man, or kneeling behind one, was finishing up the final edits to his next book. He was used to working sixteen hour days while he was in writing mode. It made no sense to stop when the words were flowing like water. Sometimes, he’d work straight through the night and catch a few hours of sleep during the day. Other times, he’d go to sleep at night, only to wake an hour or so later with another idea for the story and get up to work some more. He hadn’t gone into this profession thinking it would be a normal gig. Truth was, he hadn’t gone into this at all; the job had found him, and once it latched on, it never let go. No sense in complaining about the sleep deprivation. Writing books had earned him more money than he ever expected to see in his lifetime, and it would keep him financially comfortable for a long time to come, too.

Movement by the front door of the gym caught his attention. Tessler looked down in time to see the man with the cane limp out onto the sidewalk. He carefully hobbled to the curb and then stopped to wait, probably for a cab, and that afforded Tessler the opportunity to simply stare at the man. When he stood up straight, he appeared to be close to six feet tall. Hunching over the cane made him somewhat smaller and less formidable. Tessler loved his sandy-blond hair styled almost into a military buzz-cut, but longer on the top. It made him curious to touch his head and feel the prickly texture of the sides on his palm, his cheeks, or if he were truly lucky … his inner thighs and balls. Tanned skin peeked out from beneath his shirt sleeves, and Tessler could see a hint of ink on both arms where they were concealed by the shirt. His mind dragged him to thoughts of the man’s skin beneath the clothing. Would it be as smooth as his arms appeared the day he’d spied him at the coffee shop, or was he covered with a layer of coarse body hair, which would offer him additional resistance if he were to grind against him? How many tattoos did he have? Where were they located on his body? The idea of tracing them with his tongue had Tessler moaning.

Tessler’s cock began to thicken inside his jeans, and he pressed his palm on it to give himself a little bit of friction. It was as if the man could sense he was being watched because as soon as Tessler’s hand cupped to squeeze his cock and balls, his gaze lifted up to the windows and held.

“Fuckkk!” Tessler said and damn near dropped his cup of coffee. He spun away from the window and leaned against the brick wall to gather himself, then he walked over to the spiral staircase and went up to his loft to work. Tessler’s desk also overlooked the street out front as well as the gym, but in a more discreet way, with tinted glass that was meant to defuse the sun. When Tessler looked down at the gym again, the man he’d been watching was gone, and for some strange reason that made him a little sad.

Tessler opened up the lid of his laptop and stared at the book file waiting for him. Pages and pages of final edits, sent from his editor earlier in the day, were ready for him to weave into the story. Tedious work that would require peace and quiet for most authors—except for him. Something so boring and monotonous was made easier with commotion moving around him.

White noise.

That’s exactly what he needed, and without another thought, Tessler packed up his laptop and power cord to return to the coffee shop on the first floor. After locking the door behind him, he stepped into the bustle of the cafe and looked for a spot to sit. His usual table was occupied, so he aimed for the empty one beside it. Halfway across the room, he realized the man he’d been watching was sitting in his seat. Tessler had to bite his bottom lip to prevent a gasp from escaping his mouth. His first thought was to turn around and go back to work in his actual office, but the man had already seen him, and walking away now would seem cowardly and rude.

“Do you want your seat back?” the man asked Tessler.

“There isn’t assigned seating here,” Tessler scoffed, even though sitting where he was now would make it difficult to concentrate for several reasons—only one of them being the fact this didn’t feel like his seat.

“But you always seem to sit here,” the man added. “I don’t mind changing with you.”

Tessler waved him off as if it were nothing, but inside, he wished he’d accepted the man’s offer, even if it made him appear a little crazy. Instead, he fidgeted in the chair for several seconds while trying to get comfortable. The entire time he could feel the man’s eyes on him, watching his quirky movements. “You’re working with BB?” Tessler finally asked, then wondered if that was too personal.

The man nodded. “He’s good. I can already see some improvement.”

“That’s all that counts,” Tessler stated and began to arrange his things on top of the table the way he liked them.

After another brief moment of awkwardness between them had passed, the man finally turned slightly in his seat. “I’m Mason,” he said as Tessler noticed his hand was extended for him to shake. He looked at the hand first—wide palm with long, thick fingers which sent a rush of heat through Tessler. Then he lifted his gaze to meet the man’s vibrant, green eyes before he reached to clasp his hand, but as soon as their skin touched, Tessler’s brain stopped functioning.

“Nice . . . to meet you,” Tessler said almost on a sigh, adding in those last three words to try and smooth out his statement. “I’m Ga—” he started to say, then the words died a quick death on his tongue.

“Gah?” the man asked. “Is that short for something, or is it just Gahhh?” His face morphed into a spectacular smile that went straight to Tessler’s balls.

Where the fuck did that just come from? He hardly ever came that close to giving away something personal of himself to anyone, so why this guy, and why now? Tessler pulled his hand free and sat back in his chair to stare at his laptop screen. “You can call me Tessler.”

Mason must have sensed his irritation and softened his stance in his seat before he finally turned away from him again. Tessler wasn’t annoyed with Mason at all. He was pissed off at himself for being so close to revealing something he never exposed to anyone. Himself.

“I’m sorry,” Mason said. “I’m not trying to bust your balls.”

Mason seemed to be collecting his things as if to leave, and Tessler decided to try and change that. “You apologize a lot,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Mason asked.

“The other day, you apologized when you fell and then did it again the next time I saw you, too.”

“I guess I say and do stupid shit when I’m nervous or embarrassed,” Mason explained with a distinctive tightness to his voice.

Tessler glanced at Mason and their eyes connected. Jesus, there was something about this man that just got under his skin like no one else he’d ever known. Close up, Mason looked a little older than Tessler, maybe his early thirties? It was hard to tell because there was a shadow in his eyes that eluded to the fact his life had several telling stories to it, much like Tessler felt about himself, and those life experiences could age a person. He wondered if that was the case with Mason, as it was with him.

“Marines?” Tessler asked.

“Former,” Mason answered, then added, “No longer on active duty.”

“Because of the leg?” Tessler ventured. “I mean, is that why you said former?”

Mason bowed his head and sighed. “I fucked up my leg during a personal security job in Germany. I fell through the floor of an old theater while it was on fire and busted it in several places.”

“Jesus, were you also burned in the fire?” Tessler asked.

Mason absently touched his leg and nodded. “The place was in flames when we fell through the floor, and some of the shit that landed on us was still on fire, which lit up our clothing,” he described. “The burns were the least serious of my injuries; there were others who were burned a lot worse than I was.”

“Are you talking about the fire in Berlin that trapped the members of Black Ice and Ivory Tower?” Tessler asked.

Mason was slow to nod. He wasn’t supposed to mention the names of the people who he protected. He’d signed the non-disclosure forms and fully understood what the words on the documents meant, and for that reason, he wouldn’t give specific details of who he was with.

“Hey, I understand more than most do about confidentiality agreements,” Tessler said. “You don’t have to say anything more about who you were with. I get it.”

“Doctors wanted to amputate, but I declined their kind offer.” Mason said. “They didn’t expect me to recover enough to walk without being in excruciating pain and thought it would be best if I lost the leg,” he explained. “So, the fact I can even hobble around with this ridiculous cane is kind of a miracle.”

“I can’t believe you went through that,” Tessler said in disbelief.

“Frankly, neither can I, but I did and still am, several months after the fact. It’s been a far greater hell than Afghanistan ever was.”

Tessler didn’t know how to respond to any of that. Thank you for your service? Even that seemed grossly inadequate for what Mason had been through in his life.

“Are you writing for work or for fun?” Mason asked after another pause in their conversation.

Tessler looked at Mason again and melted from the soft smile curling his lips—lips he wouldn’t mind tasting. “I’m an author, so this is definitely work.”

Mason nodded. “I’ll let you get to it, then,” he said and started the process of rising to his feet.

“You’re not bothering me, if you’d like to stay,” Tessler said, hoping it didn’t sound as desperate to Mason as it did to his own ears. Why hadn’t he just begged the man to stay? That might have been the less obvious thing to do.

“Can I take a raincheck on that?” Mason asked. “BB kicked my ass today, and I really need to head home and put some ice on my leg.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tessler said and fluffed it off as if he wasn’t disappointed. “I’ll see you around.”

“I really hope I do,” Mason grinned and stuck his hand out again. “It was nice to finally have a conversation with you, Tessler.”

The pink color rising up Mason’s throat to heat his cheeks told Tessler the man was just as unhinged as he was, and damn, it felt nice knowing he wasn’t the only one out of sorts. Tessler took Mason’s big hand again and gently shook it before he offered him a smile—a real smile that he actually felt all the way to his core. When was the last time that had happened? Tessler couldn’t be sure of that. All he knew was he wanted to feel this emotion again. Soon.