Last person I expected to see on my way to work was Jason. The very same guy who’s been haunting my mind, the one I’ve been trying to erase from my thoughts, with no luck.

And he looks… wet. Very wet, and cold, and miserable, huddled against the door of a deli, dressed only in pants and one of those damned barely-there tops he insists on wearing. Did he miss the change of season? We’re in September, dammit.

He’s staring at me, and his dark eyes seem a bit unfocused. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

I frown. Is he on drugs? I may not have spoken to him in a while, but I’ve heard him talk to Ocean on occasion. Guy’s quick with his tongue—and I don’t mean in that way.

Fuck, now I can’t stop thinking about his tongue and what it can do.

Jesus.

“Jason.” I crouch down in front of him and realize he’s shivering. “What’s the matter, forgot your jacket?”

He swallows hard, and my gaze follows the movement in his throat. “Something like that,” he drawls finally. “Whatcha doing down here in the gutter with me, pretty boy?”

Okay, this is more like the Jason I remember. “I pass by here every morning on my way to work.”

“Work?” He makes it sound like an unknown concept, and fuck, I really should stop staring at his bright eyes, the way his teeth are sinking into his lower lip, the muscles flexing in his inked arms as he loops them around his bent knees. His knuckles are red and scuffed, and there’s a fine tremor to his long fingers.

“Collateral.”

“Damage?” he mumbles.

“Ah-huh. The tattoo shop? Damage Control’s sister shop?”

He sighs, closes his eyes. “Fuck, right. I didn’t know it was around here.”

“Right around the corner. Never seen you around here, though.”

“Not my usual haunt,” he admits softly, a rough edge to his voice that stirs something in me. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. “You tattoo people, like your brother?”

“Nah. I just hold the fort in the mornings.” At his clouded look, I shrug and straighten, my knees creaking. “I man the front desk. Megan is there in the afternoons. Well, I need to get going, or I’ll be late.”

And hell must have frozen over if I’m making polite conversation with Jason.

“Yeah, off you go, baby,” he says softly. Then he sneers. “Wouldn’t want you getting scolded, would we now? Run along to your cozy, boring little job.”

I knew it was too good to last. I snort and shake my head, shoving my hands into the pockets of my rain jacket. “Forget I even asked.”

“Asked what?”

Christ. “Just don’t stay out here, or you’ll freeze to death.”

“I can take care of myself. Always have.” Stubborn. Glaring at me.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As I turn to go, I realize I’m straining my ears to hear his comeback. Ought to be good, and I want to hear it. I want the snap of his anger, the spark of it.

But it doesn’t come, and come to think of it, why is he sitting there in wet clothes, doing nothing? Isn’t it too early in the morning for him to be working the streets?

A muffled sound from behind me stops me in my tracks. Not sure what it is, but it makes me turn around. Cars are passing by, splashing the sidewalk with last night’s rain, their lights on. The rain is picking up.

Through the curtain of falling drops, I can barely make out his slender form huddled in the darkness of the shop entrance, but somehow, I know deep in my bones that something’s wrong.

So I start back toward him, resisting the urge to run.

The sound I heard before comes again. He’s coughing, and when I duck under the awning, I find him hunched over and panting, wet hair hiding his eyes.

“Jase.” I reach for him, and he jerks back, eyes wide. “Hey. You okay, man?”

From close up, his face is an unhealthy gray, the light scruff on his cheeks making his cheekbones jut out so sharply they look like they could break the skin.

Shit.

“Leave me alone,” he rasps, and maybe I should, because despite looking like hell warmed over, he’s glaring at me, his hot gaze dripping with anger and contempt. “Just go.”

“What can I do?” I demand to know, crouching down. “Anyone I can call to come pick you up?”

He makes a sniffing sound and bares his teeth in a sharp grin. “My limo. Call my chauffeur over, why don’t you, Raine? Be a good boy and go fetch.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Any friends?” I snap out. “Or did you drive them all away with your goddamn attitude?”

“Pff. Look who’s talking. You self-righteous motherfucking dick—”

Another cough interrupts him, and he turns his face away, lifting his arm to smother the fit against it. The dark ink on his forearm seems unreal in the dimness.

I should leave. I know I should, but I can’t move from the spot, watching his shoulders shake as he coughs some more, then draws an unsteady breath and lets his head fall back against the door.

Even the dimness can’t hide the dark crescents under his eyes, and I think I see bruises around his wrists.

On impulse, I grab his hand and tug. “Come on.”

He blinks at me, his long lashes lifting. “What?”

“Come on, get up.” I pull harder on his hand, and he tugs his hand back, brows knitting. “Let’s have some coffee. You drink coffee, don’t you?”

His brows lift, then his eyes narrow again. “Fuck off. I don’t need no coffee from you. Go away.”

“Jase.”

“Jason,” he grinds out. “Jason, goddammit.”

Whoa. Touched a nerve. “Fine. You need to get out of the cold, you need something hot inside you, and I need breakfast. Come with me.”

“I don’t take no charity,” he mutters, but his stomach growls, and he licks his lips.

And my dick shouldn’t like that, not in a situation like this.

“It’s not a charity. It’s a…” I cast around for an acceptable excuse. “A meeting. With some coffee.”

“Meeting… about what?” His teeth are now chattering so hard it’s hard to understand the words, and behind the bravado and prissiness, there’s a wariness that tugs at me.

“Business,” I spit out, and this time I grab both his hands and haul him out onto the street. Once I have him standing, I shrug out of my jacket and throw it over his shoulders. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

He peers at me from under his wet lashes as he pulls the jacket closed, and a corner of his mouth lifts up. He waves a pale hand like a medieval courtier. “After you, Mr. Storm.”

Well, fuck.

Leading Jason toward the nearest coffee shop, I whip out my phone and call work. I need to let my brother know there’s a hold-up, and I’ll be in late. Predictably, the moment I tell him just that, he starts to ask what happened, and I cut him off.

“Just cover for me for an hour. Please, bro.”

“Are you all right?” He’s in full brotherly overprotective mode, and I smile a little, though he really has to cool his guns.

“Yes. I’m fine, everything’s fine. Trust me, Shun. Just one hour and I’ll be at Collateral.”

He grunts something unintelligible and clicks off.

Shaking my head, I pocket the phone and wipe rain from my face. I’m drenched already and cold without my jacket, and turning, I find Jason staring at me.

He jerks his gaze away and presses his mouth flat.

Okay, then.

He’s slow, way slower than me, and getting drenched isn’t my favorite pastime, so I open my mouth to ask if he could hurry up a little, when I realize he’s still shivering despite the jacket, and his steps look a bit unsteady.

Fuck.

So I slow down, too, keeping an eye on him as he mulishly plods on. He seems to be running on fumes and sheer will, and it’s a shock to see him wrapped up in my own leather jacket. It fits his wide shoulders well, although it flaps around his middle.

Guy’s too skinny. Needs to eat more.

And it has nothing to do with me. I’m just going to put some hot coffee into him so that he doesn’t die of hypothermia, and then I need to get to fucking work, and field Ocean’s inevitable questions.

No idea why I give a shit, in fact.

Apart from the fact this is the guy starring in my wet dreams. But that’s a fantasy, nothing more.

Besides, my brother and Jesse Lee are helping him, I know this for a fact, slipping him money every month. So why can’t he find a normal job and stay off the streets, huh? I just don’t get it.

After what feels like hours, we reach the coffee shop, and I step inside first, holding the door for him. He doesn’t comment on it, his face pale. He staggers as he climbs inside the shop, and I grab his arm to steady him.

He pulls it free with a half-snarl, and steps back until his backside hits an empty table. “We’re here now,” he hisses. “You wanna talk business with me, talk. But don’t think for a fucking second you’re getting a discount.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and then I see red.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I hiss right back. “Dammit, I should have left you out in the cold.”

One side of his mouth lifts in another of those sharp smirks. “But you didn’t. Question is, why?”

Shit, what was I thinking?

“Sit down,” I snap and stride away to get him his damn coffee.

Then I’m grabbing my jacket back and getting my ass out of here.