Renzo.”

He ignored the censure in Dax’s voice, keeping his gaze focused on the paper on his desk. He had no fucking clue what the hell was in front of him. He couldn’t see shit with his eyes all gritty and burning from lack of sleep. But he couldn’t look at Dax either.

Lots of things he couldn’t do. Sleep without Low. Survive without Low. Talk to Low. He shouldn’t be behind this desk. He should be out there getting his man back. Getting Low to give him another chance.

“Shay and the rest of the guys—all of us—think you should go home.” Dax’s footsteps drew closer. “There’s nothing to do here, they’ve got it covered.”

He kept reliving the moment Low walked into Atta’s office. The shock on his face. The betrayal in his eyes when he looked at Renzo. That, that was tangible. What he’d done to Low. To them. He had to fix it. He had to explain.

He picked up a folder from his desk, but Dax grabbed it from him.

Renzo growled. “Fuck are you doing, Dax?”

“Go home, Renzo. Get some sleep. Eat something. You can’t get Low back if you’re wasting away.”

He didn’t get it. That place was just a goddam building. Low was home. With Low gone, Renzo had nothing.

“I fucked up,” he whispered to his friend. His throat felt as if he’d been screaming, but he didn’t remember that. He didn’t remember speaking at all after leaving Ronna’s house the other morning. Low fed him, helped him sleep and then he sent him away. Again. “He is my breath, Dax, and now he’s gone.”

His friend nodded, hands on Renzo’s shoulders. Fingers massaging. “Then why are you here and not out there, hunting him down?” He gave Renzo a careful smile. “You practically stalked dude to get him, and now what? You’re backing off at the first sight of trouble? Doesn’t sound like the Renzo I know.”

But this was different. Low was different. No amount of forcing his attention on Low would fix it. Low needed space. He’d asked for it and barging into his life—which Renzo ached to do so fucking bad—would only make things worse.

That memory of Low hunched over, clutching his middle haunted Renzo. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Low’s face when he learned the truth about his father. And every single time, he saw Low’s heart break when he realized Renzo had known the entire time and never told him.

The truth remained that he’d watched the man he loved in pain, he’d watched him suffer, and the entire time he’d had the answers. Now, the excuses didn’t seem to matter at all. Losing Low made every damn one of them seem too thin and inconsequential.

He hadn’t put Low first.

Low thought Renzo hadn’t put him and their relationship first, and good intentions or not, his actions spoke volumes.

“Renzo—”

A scuffle at the door cut Dax’s words short.

“Sir, you can’t go in there!”

Dax raced to the door and yanked it open. Shay and two of the security guys were struggling with a man.

Not just any man, either.

Timothy Groves.

“I want to see him,” Groves yelled. “Tell him to come out here and face me. Vega, you fucker. Come face me!”

“Let him go,” Renzo called. “Dax, show Mr. Groves in, thank you. And you can wait outside.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Dax.” He brought his attention back to the useless stash of paper on his desk, effectively dismissing his friend.

A door slammed.

“You son of a bitch!”

He glanced up, affecting a bored expression for Timothy Groves. “Mr. Groves, what can I do for you?” The younger Groves was sweaty, his blue suit wrinkled and streaked with what looked like dirt. His brown hair was stringy and greasy-looking. “You don’t look so good.” He waved at the bar to his left. “Might I suggest a beverage?”

“I want my club back. Give me back what you stole from me and my father.” Groves’ gaze didn’t settle for one moment, he kept sweeping the room.

“Are you looking for something?”

Groves’ face twisted into a hate-filled grimace. “You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?”

Renzo sat back with a smile, folding his hands in his lap. “Well, you haven’t managed to touch me yet, so...” He shrugged.

Groves’ snake eyes widened. “You had something to do with the auction, didn’t you?” He launched himself across the surface of the desk and fisted Renzo’s shirt. “You stole my merchandise.” He abruptly released Renzo and started pacing. “Where are they? Where the fuck are they?” He got even sweatier, if that were possible.

Renzo stood and straightened his clothes before walking around the desk and getting in Groves’ face. The bastard even smelled sweaty. “You think you can come into my city and try that shit?” he asked softly. “Do you honestly think I’d let you get away with that?” He scoffed. “Get out of my office. And my club.”

He didn’t see the punch coming—he could blame the lack of sleep—and the blow knocked him backward into his desk. Groves jumped on him and Renzo allowed the clumsy fool to get a couple punches in before backhanding him.

When Groves staggered backward, eyes wide, panting like a wild animal, Renzo slammed his fist into the other man’s nose. The low crunch and squirt of blood that followed was only mildly satisfying so he grabbed Groves by the throat when he yelled in pain and squeezed.

“You’re not worth my time,” Renzo spat in his face and thrust him away just as the door flew open and Dax came racing in. “Take Mr. Groves outside,” Renzo told him. “And make sure he understands just how much he fucked up.”

“You won’t get away with this.” Groves spat a wad of bloodied saliva onto the floor. He would have continued talking too, if not for the gun Dax pressed to his neck.

Renzo smiled.

He kept that smile until the door closed behind then. Then he collapsed onto his desk, flexing his jaw. For a smarmy bastard, Groves packed a decent punch. He’d been a good but way too brief distraction. Once again Renzo was back where he’d started.

Missing Low.

Needing Low.

* * *

He hadn’t meant to invite Renzo over the other night. His lover’s voice had just been so agonized, sounding the way Low felt. He’d done it for himself as much as Renzo. And after he once again sent Renzo away, all Low wanted to do was call him back. Get him to lie across his lap again. Face pushed into his stomach, muffling his snores as he slept. He’d looked tired, wrung out, beaten down. All that sadness in his eyes.

But Low let fear dictate his actions.

Now he was the one who couldn’t sleep. He spent so many days just wallowing, feeling sorry for himself. How was he supposed to accept the truth of who he was, where he came from? He didn’t know the answers, but he was choosing to think of the man who raised him as his father. He didn’t need to know anything more about Monster, because that’s who he was.

A monster.

Low hadn’t even asked his mother for his last name. He knew his first name and that was more than enough. He’d spent too many days letting Monster take from him. That bastard had taken a childhood from Renzo.

And what the fuck was Low doing?

Now he was the one pulling up to the security gate at that villa-style house on Lavista at midnight, punching in the security code. Dax knew he was coming, Renzo didn’t. Dax’s text said he’d leave the front door unlocked, so Low made his way inside the house and stopped short at the loud EDM pumping through the invisible speakers around the house.

Of course, all the lights were on. He locked the door behind him and made his way upstairs to Renzo’s bedroom. They were in bed, Renzo’s head on Dax’s chest while Dax hugged him, murmuring to him softly. If they were any other men Low would be jealous, but he was just plain thankful Dax could be there when Low couldn’t.

He cleared his throat.

Dax looked over at him first, a smirk on his lips as he acknowledged Low with a jerk of his chin. When Dax pressed a kiss to Renzo’s forehead and rolled away, Renzo sat up. Their gazes met.

Low watched him swallow. He watched hope flare in those gray eyes. “Low.”

“I’m gonna—” Dax made a leaving motion with his hands as he tiptoed out the bedroom. “Make it work,” he whispered to Low as he slipped out the door.

Make it work.

“Why—”

“You need me.” He cut off Renzo’s questions. “And it turns out, I need you just as much.”

Renzo’s mouth opened and closed. Low had never seen him speechless. Never seen him this vulnerable as he sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed with his chest bare.

All the way over here, Low was damn sure he wasn’t ready. That he still needed time and space. But didn’t the fact that he was here now, that he had Renzo sleeping in his lap just a few nights ago make him a liar? What was the point of all this? He didn’t need distance. Renzo needed him. But Low needed him just as badly. He wanted his lover close. Just one day had been a day too long. His stubborn nature, gotten from his mother no doubt, had been what kept them apart.

Low went to him, kicking off his sneakers before climbing onto Renzo’s bed. Mimicking Renzo’s position, he traced the bridge of Renzo’s nose with the pad of one finger, lips curving when Renzo’s nose wrinkled and his eyelids fluttered. He’d looked like hell when Low last saw him and right now he didn’t look magically rested, but when his eyes opened to gaze up at Low, they seemed clearer.

The bags under his eyes remained, but Renzo appeared at peace.

That was all Low wanted.

“Hi.”

Renzo’s lashes dropped then lifted. “Hey, baby.” He brushed his knuckles down Low’s throat, a tentative caress, before moving higher, gliding over Low’s jaw before cupping his cheek. Low turned his face into the touch, swallowing hard.

They needed to talk. A clearing of the air was necessary, yes. But so was this, so he put his hand over Renzo’s. Holding him in place.

“I came to hold you,” he confessed. “So you could hold me while we sleep.”

Renzo nodded. “Okay.” He leaned over to the nightstand and used one of the remotes to turn the music down a little.

They settled back against the pillows. Low on his back, Renzo pressed to his side, head on his chest—over his heart—an arm around his waist. Low circled Renzo’s shoulders with one hand, fingers immediately going to his hair, sinking to his scalp.

Familiar.

The scent and heat of his skin.

Their position.

Them.

Familiar and right. He couldn’t walk away from this. He refused to let ghosts scare him away from this. He kissed the top of Renzo’s head and Renzo answered with a brush of lips over Low’s left pec.

No words.

But the lights stayed on.