Joe stretched his arms above his head and yawned. It was five in the afternoon and almost time to open up shop.

He’d been up since ten and had spent most of the day doing his accounts. The final figures had sent a warm feeling of satisfaction coursing through him; he was pleased to see the healthy profit the club had made over the last month. He looked out the window and watched the dying rays of the sun streak across the patches of sky visible between the Shinjuku high rises.

Though he could easily afford to rent a place where his best friend, Cam Sorvino, lived in the exclusive Ebisu area of Tokyo, Joe wouldn’t have traded his tiny apartment above Saron for anything in the world. It was the first place he’d ever owned outright and the only true home he’d ever known.

He rose from his desk and grabbed his jacket; he’d made it a habit to go for a walk at this time every day since he first got the keys to Saron. He headed out the door and took the stairs that led to the back of the club.

* * *

Shit.

Ethan picked up speed, his gaze on the alley exit some hundred feet ahead.

He’d taken this shortcut to Saron plenty of times before and never had any trouble. Ethan cursed himself when he realized he’d ended up in this situation through his own fault.

He’d found another note in his mailbox when he returned to his apartment in the early hours of that morning. Though Ethan suspected it had come with the second delivery of the day, he’d still checked his place for signs of breaking and entering and slept fitfully until after midday. He had all but forgotten about the note until five minutes ago, when he was making his way back to the club for his evening shift.

The sensation of being followed had started as a faint itch on the back of his neck. By the time he’d entered the series of back alleys that cut across Shinjuku to the club, Ethan was convinced someone was tailing him.

That asshole was probably waiting for me somewhere outside my building.

He’d stopped and looked over his shoulder time and time again but had seen no one in the shadows rapidly growing around him. Still, he couldn’t shake the icy feeling skittering across his skin.

The sound of a foot kicking against a can reached Ethan’s ears a second later. He froze in his tracks before slowly twisting on his heels. He stared into the gloom, his pulse racing.

A figure stood watching him from behind a dumpster some sixty feet away.

Oh, fuck.

Ethan turned and ran, fear roiling his stomach and sending a wave of bile up his throat. The alley exit blurred ahead of him as panic constricted his vision and his rib cage. He gritted his teeth and pounded the asphalt, refusing to give in to the terror threatening to drown him.

A choked cry bubbled past his lips when he finally escaped the suffocating confines of the passage and came out onto a main road. His breath locked in his lungs in the next moment as he slammed into someone.

* * *

Joe grunted when a man darted out of an alleyway and plowed into him, bowling them both to the ground. He landed on his back with a curse, the other guy on top of him.

“Hey, asshole, watch where you’re—”

The rest of Joe’s rebuke died in his throat when he registered the identity of the man lying against him.

Ethan’s expression was wild-eyed and ashen, his pupils dark and dilated in a sea of green, his breaths coming hard and fast. Alarm filled Joe when he felt the tremors running through Ethan’s body.

He sat up and gripped Ethan’s shoulders.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Ethan startled. Recognition dawned on his face. He jerked back from Joe’s touch and landed hard on his ass. Joe’s heart twisted painfully at the physical rejection. He had barely begun to register his own shocking reaction when he saw dread wash across Ethan’s features. Ethan twisted and stared over his shoulder toward the mouth of the alley.

Joe’s stomach plummeted, unease slowly filling him.

“Ethan?”

Ethan blinked and turned to look at Joe. His gaze dropped to his trembling hands where they lay in his lap. He sat with his legs out and his head bowed, unheeding of the passersby staring at them.

“Shit,” he murmured hoarsely.

Deep beneath the fear Joe could read in Ethan’s voice, he detected a thread of anger. Joe frowned, trepidation sending his pulse racing.

“What the hell is going on?”

* * *

“You fucking idiot!”

Ethan winced and wrapped his hands around the steaming cup of coffee. He and Joe were in the staff room back at the club. Though the hot drink warmed Ethan’s skin, it had yet to take away the coldness still coursing through him. He sat on the couch with his shoulders hunched and quietly bore the wrath of the angry man pacing the floor in front of him.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Joe growled. “Damn it, Ethan, you could have been hurt!”

Ethan swallowed a sigh. He deserved that one too.

Joe suddenly stilled, his hand stopping midway through raking his hair.

“Do any of the staff know about this?”

Ethan glanced at Joe’s stormy expression and shook his head, grateful he hadn’t involved his coworkers.

“I asked them whether they’d seen anything, but I didn’t tell them what it was about.”

Joe stared at him for silent seconds. He strode across the floor and violently kicked the trash can.

“Fuck!”

Ethan startled, fingers twitching around the cup. He’d expected Joe to be furious if he found out about the stalker, but he had not anticipated the rage visibly burning through the man. A flame of hope shot through him and licked a treacherous path along his veins.

Does this mean he cares? Even a little?

“Why, Ethan? Tell me why,” Joe said harshly. “Why haven’t you talked to me about this when it’s been going on right under my nose?”

“I—” Ethan swallowed. “It—it didn’t concern you. And I wanted to take care of this myself. I’m a man, for fuck’s sake!”

Joe gritted his teeth and glared at him.

“Men rape and kill other men every day.”

Ethan felt blood drain from his face at Joe’s stark words.

“And, just in case it escaped that moronic brain of yours, I actually happen to own this place,” Joe continued hotly. “The place where this all started. As far as I see it, this concerns me one hundred and ten percent. So, tell me, Ethan. Why?”

Ethan briefly closed his eyes. He couldn’t very well reveal to Joe the real reason he’d lied to him by omission.

Joe drew a breath in sharply.

“Is this because I refuse to fuck you?”

Oh God.

Ethan suddenly wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

* * *

Joe’s anger reached boiling point when he read the truth on Ethan’s shocked face.

The little—

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Joe said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “How could you put yourself at risk for such a stupid reason?”

Ethan blinked before narrowing his eyes.

“Well, excuse me for being a moron.”

Joe stared.

I can’t believe the stubborn prick is challenging me right now.

The thought of all the terrible things that could have happened to the young man glaring at him so daringly sent an icy chill down Joe’s spine once more. He’d seen this kind of thing plenty times before, when he was still working the strip clubs in New York. Men and women who were relentlessly chased by clients who wanted to own them, body and soul. Most had escaped their stalkers unscathed. The few who hadn’t almost always ended up in the hospital, violently raped and beaten to near death.

A stark truth had bolted through Joe when Ethan had told him about the anonymous notes he’d been getting at the club.

Although he refused to acknowledge what it was exactly he felt for Ethan, he couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the cocky bartender who had wormed his way into his life and continued to frustrate the hell out of him nearly every single day since their first meeting.

That shocking realization had led Joe to one undeniable conclusion. Even if he had to lock Ethan up in a basement, he’d keep the young man safe until he figured out the identity of the man stalking him and gave the bastard a piece of his mind. Preferably with his fists.