CHAPTER THREE
Of course, the next day when Cam sought Six out in the security office, his idea didn’t go down quite so well.
“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Six snapped. “I won’t enable this.”
Cam shrugged; at the end of the day, friendship or not, he paid Six to work for him. Still, he wasn’t ready to pull that card yet, so he attempted to lower the stress he heard in Six’s voice.
“It’s not as bad as the time I nearly walked off the balcony of that Chicago penthouse,” he joked.
Six cursed under his breath. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Cam—”
“Six, find me someone good, talented, nice looking, who can be my plus-one without questions from everyone. Someone classy.”
“Cameron Clayton Malcolm Stafford, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
Cam knew he was in trouble when Six used his full name, so he changed direction. Manipulation wasn’t his go-to option, but he had a few cards to play.
“Adam hurt me,” he said. He was genuine in that statement. He’d liked Adam, trusted him, or rather he’d wanted to believe him.
“I know he did,” Six said, and his tone had softened a little.
“I’m not ready to do that again,” Cam added. “This is a compromise that works for everyone.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“We’re not doing anything—I’m doing this, and I can’t believe we didn’t think of it earlier.”
“Jeez, Cam, you have money and a reputation as a good guy—any of the men who fawn all over you would be better than a fucking hooker.”
“No they wouldn’t, because I’d end up hurt,” Cam said, and wouldn’t let himself be dragged into more conversation. He’d made up his mind, and nothing Six could say would change it. Okay, so it had been a snap decision when he’d asked to meet Six in security, but the basics of it were something he’d been considering ever since the charity event.
He had to do something.
“I have to just accept that I’m not going to find someone who wants me for me,” he began.
“Don’t do this,” Six warned.
But Cam forged ahead. Six was the only person in this entire world he could be honest with. “A blind gay man with money is, at the end of the day, a blank check with not much else going for him.”
Six pushed at his chest. “I hate it when you say shit like that. You know you don’t believe that.”
“You’re right; of course I don’t believe it.”
“You deserve so much more.”
His friend was so damn loyal, never wanted anyone to think badly of Cam.
“Six, I’m out there looking and waiting, and I’m sick of being taken for a ride. One day I want what couples like Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes have. I want to fight over ice in the desert, and kiss, and be in love, and not have someone rip me off for my money or take advantage. I’ll have it one day, but right now I need someone I can rent just for the event.”
Six made a weird sound that was half sigh, half curse, then he moved away from Cam to the bank of screens.
“Well, you need a reputable escort agency. I have numbers I can phone.”
“No, I need someone with no ties to anything—no company, nothing.”
“Brunet Seven is here again,” Six said. “But me telling you that doesn’t mean I think you taking a hooker to your sister’s engagement party is a good thing.”
“Six—”
“You know damn well your dad has people watching you, looking for evidence you can’t cope. I can only put them off the trail for so long, because they report to me.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Jesus, Cam, what if your parents realize he’s not a real boyfriend? Or hell, what if they think he is and they run background checks on him—”
“Stop. You would be the one to run those; they trust you for that.”
“Oh Jesus, I’ll be an accessory to the madness.”
Cam had to change the subject, because Six sounded as if he was losing it. “Tell me about Brunet Seven.”
“He dresses well, smart, good looking.”
Cam moved closer to the screens and turned his head so he could try and see the picture. He couldn’t make much out, but if Six said that Brunet Seven was there—or B7 as he shortened it in his head—then he was. The Stafford Royal was an elite boutique hotel, and Six was former Special Forces and in charge of all things security. If he said a target was there and had detailed descriptions and opinions, then that was fact.
“Sounds perfect.”
“That was me saying he was smart and good looking…for a damn hooker.”
Cam ignored his friend’s anxiety and focused on the task at hand. “What does your spooky sixth sense tell you?” He waggled his fingers next to his head as he said that.
Six slapped one of his hands. “Stop that shit,” he groused.
Micah Carlisle carried the nickname Six with pride, even though he said it held some pretty shit memories that he refused to share with Cam. He had a weird kind of sixth sense that gave him a heads-up in questionable situations.
“Couldn’t resist,” Cam teased. “So tell me what you think.”
Six was suspiciously quiet, then he let out another noisy sigh. “He’s focused, intense, not flashy, walks straight all the time, like he has a purpose. There’s just this feeling I have that he’s way more complicated than a hooker should be.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Yeah, right,” Six muttered with a sniff.
“How long has the escort been here?”
Six cursed again. “I could decide not to tell you anything else. Not like you can see where he is anyway.”
“And there you are using a blind joke,” Cam said with a mock sigh. “Anyway, you know damn well I’d ask reception.”
“They don’t know where he is; he came straight through. Hookers don’t check in at the front desk—”
“Tell me.”
“Fuck.” There was a rush of air in the room, then the noise of something hitting the wall; sounded like a mug, from the crash of china. Hell, Six really wasn’t happy about this, and Cam felt a prickle of guilt; after all, Six was there to look out for him like he had for years now.
That gave him pause. Was he being insane? Why didn’t he find some other way to get a plus-one? Six was the nearest thing he had to a father-figure, given that he only ever saw his dad on holidays. Six was also Cam’s best friend; the only one he trusted to have his back.
So why the hell was he doing this? He knew the answer lay somewhere in the middle of not wanting to open himself up to a potential boyfriend, even if he could find one he liked enough in the first place. He was told so many lies he could see through them just from the tone they were delivered in.
“Cam, please, I want you to think this through properly.”
“Six. Help me.” Cam pushed enough affection into his voice to say that he acknowledged how Six felt. And that yes, Six was more his father than his own dad was, and yes, he was his best friend. Then he added the killer blow, the single word that had had Six wrapped around Cam’s little finger since Cam was twelve. “Please.”
Six sat down heavily in the chair, and Cam heard it squeak and shake and roll back a little. He imagined Six’s strings being cut and his legs no longer able to hold him upright.
“Brunet Seven entered room 1207 at approximately 11:23.” Six’s tone was tight.
Cam did some quick calculations in his head. “Who’s in that room?”
“Young guy, works for a tech company, first stay I can find.”
“Not one of our regulars, then.”
“Nope.”
There was a delicate balance in any hotel. The people who stayed on the prestigious upper floors had money, a lot of money, with each room costing eight hundred a night minimum. 1207 was one of the cheaper rooms at nine hundred, but it didn’t matter what people paid for their room, every guest was important at the Stafford Royal. Some businesspeople, the staple of their luxury rooms, brought their family. A couple of regulars had dogs that went everywhere with them. A lot had partners who met them at the hotel. And some hired in escorts for sex. It wasn’t Cam’s job to judge a single person who stayed there.
But B7 intrigued him and worried him at the same time, and also fit the exact criteria for what he needed.
There was a healthy exchange of sex in this place, from the twenty-dollar hookers to the upper-class escorts. Somehow B7 seemed more at the upper end than the lower. Of course, Cam would have to rely on Six’s detailed assessment.
“Can you describe him?”
“Hispanic ancestry, six feet, dark eyes and hair. Immaculate suit, muted color shirt, no tie, wears a chain around his neck and leather bracelets on his wrists. His shoes have a polish you could see your face in.”
“Wait, you’ve seen his eyes and his shoes? You’ve been that close to him?”
Six noticed details like shiny shoes—that was what made him so good at his job.
“Of course I have,” Six said, sounding affronted that Cam would question just how well he knew this hotel. “Up until four weeks ago, he had long hair in one of those man-buns. He chopped it off about a month back. Now it’s short, and he has a tidy beard that isn’t much of a beard at all. It used to be a lot thicker.”
“Did you get anything on him?” Cam asked, and felt behind himself for the chair, sitting and waiting for more intel.
“What makes you think I checked him out?”
“Of course you did. You check them all out.”
Six sighed. “Okay, so he lives in an apartment owned by one Stefan Milano. Second floor, nice area, so fucking for money must pay for him to rent that. No car registered to his name. I spoke to a couple of neighbors.”
“You actually went to his place?”
Six said nothing at first, but Cam could imagine the look he was being given, one of impatience. “He’s a regular here, and you know I follow up any crap in this hotel,” he muttered. “Turns out our boy keeps himself to himself and doesn’t involve himself in the community. Not that it causes a problem. People say he smiles and that they think he works in insurance. They’ve heard some shouting some days, and some banging, but nothing that seemed to be enough to warrant calling the cops.”
“And anyone he answers to? A staff member? A pimp? Does he work with anyone else?”
“He shares his place with the owner of the apartment.”
“A boyfriend?”
“Possibly.”
“What else have you picked up?” This game intrigued him, and he wanted to know more.
“When he’s at the hotel, he always uses the stairs to the third floor, then uses the elevator from there; post-appointment, he uses the elevator to the second floor and walks the rest of the way. Last week, on impulse, I tried to reach him before he got to the sidewalk, but he’s focused, and it wasn’t a well-thought-out maneuver on my part.”
Six considered everything to the minutest detail, and would be pissed that this guy had somehow got past him.
“Do you have a name for him? Something other than Brunet Seven?”
“I’d prefer to file him as B7 for now.”
“I need a name for him.”
“Jesus. Okay. His name is Gabriel. That’s all I got; there wasn’t any mail in his box.”
“You broke into his box?”
“What did you think I’d do? Anyway, I can’t find much more without digging a lot deeper.”
Cam knew that meant Six going to one of his old friends and taking the time to really dig around. That wasn’t necessary, and he’d said so. All Cam needed was to make sure that this Gabriel was for hire and that he knew the rules.
“You’re sure about this?” Six asked one final time.
Six never asked Cam more than once when he’d made a decision. In fact, Six was the only person in Cam’s life who didn’t fuss over him. There must be a reason for asking.
“Why?”
“This guy worries me, okay? Something about him. He’s edgy and cautious, and even though he dresses well, there’s more to him, and I don’t like it.”
Cam nodded. “I’ll watch out for that.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Six said and Cam sighed inwardly. Six never made a fuss about Cam and his ability—or inability—to do anything, but this was different.
“Please don’t,” he murmured, and heard the soft exhalation from Six that spoke volumes. Six had been his right-hand man since he was a kid and things had started to go wrong. He’d been a bodyguard hired in by parents who didn’t want the responsibility of a kid who was going blind.
“Take this,” Six said, and placed a small earpiece in his hand. Cam pushed it into his ear. “I wish you’d let me mic up the elevators.”
“We discussed this. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Fucking hookers, using our place like a brothel,” Six muttered under his breath, as if there wasn’t a one hundred percent probability of Cam hearing him. Then he muttered something so low that not even Cam could hear it.
“It’ll be okay.”
“There’s no eyes or ears on the inside of that elevator—”
“I’m mic’d up, and anyway you’ll be waiting here, and you have the override codes if we need them.”
“Cam—”
“I only need him for one evening for a dinner. I think I can handle booking a hooker,” he said with steel in the words.
They sat in silence until the door to 1207 opened. “We have movement,” Six said, and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Showtime.”