Dax picked Low up and took him to the club. They entered through the private entrance and as Dax opened Renzo’s office door, Shay stepped out. Her face lit up when she spotted Low over Dax’s shoulder.

“Low, haven’t seen you around here in a minute.” She stopped, head cocked. “You back for good or what?”

“Ay, how you fast so?”

“Stop interrogating him,” Renzo yelled from behind her. “But he’s back for good. FYI.”

Low grinned. “What the man said.”

“Thank God.” Shay strode past Dax and leaned to whisper in Low’s ear, “He was getting on my last nerve.” She patted Low on the shoulder and disappeared as he snickered and Renzo grumbled.

Low entered the office and waved Dax goodbye. “Thanks, Dax.”

“Anytime.” Dax closed the office door, giving Low and Renzo their privacy.

Soon as the door clicked shut, Renzo stood and rounded the desk, taking Low into his arms.

Mmm. Low pressed a kiss to his neck. “You finished with your business?”

“I am.” Renzo nodded. “I’m all yours for the night.”

“And longer, I hope.” He tilted his face, seeking, and Renzo delivered, lips rushing, teasing, then staying longer.

“Definitely longer.” Renzo pulled away and caught Low’s hand, tugging him toward the private elevator that would take them to Renzo’s private room on the second level. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Inside the elevator Low fell back into Renzo’s embrace. Into his mouth. The throb of music was pretty muted, but he still found his hips rolling to LOVE. by Kendrick Lamar and Zacari. Breaking the kiss, he spun, putting his back to Renzo’s chest. Renzo didn’t miss a beat. His mouth settled on Low’s neck, one hand on his waist, the other smoothing down Low’s front.

Low moved on him, for him, throwing waist in time to the sexy beat. A slow grind Renzo easily kept time with, dipping when Low dipped, rising when he did. Head lolling back on Renzo’s shoulder, Low pushed back at the hard cock trying to nestle between his ass cheeks.

“You like that,” he whispered over Renzo’s heavy breathing. “When I wine for you.”

“Fuck, yes.” Renzo’s tongue laved the shell of Low’s ear then darted inside.

“Ungh.” Low hooked a hand around Renzo’s neck, keeping his mouth there. “Move with me,” he instructed breathlessly. “Like this.” He rolled his hips, leaning forward slightly. Just enough to push his ass back on Renzo.

Fuck. He fell in love with the right man, because Renzo had waist for days, moving as if he’d grown up dancing to soca and calypso. He was so caught up in Renzo he hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped moving. He pulled away and tugged Renzo out of the elevator. “You promised me champagne.”

“So I did.”

An hour later, they’d polished off a bottle of champagne. Low’s pants were off, Renzo’s shirt had disappeared, and Low was face down on the black leather couch, coming with Renzo’s tongue up his ass.

“Fuck.” He rolled over when Renzo move away.

“I think we should head out to my place.” Renzo licked his lips and wiped his face. “We’re gonna need a bed for what I’ve got planned for you.”

Damn. “You ain’t said none but a word.” He jumped to his feet then chuckled when he staggered and Renzo had to hold his orgasm-drunk ass steady. “Lead the way, Daddy.”

Renzo pushed his head between Low’s quivering legs and bit the inside of his thigh. “You know I can’t think when you call me that.”

“Let’s go. Shit.” Low snatched up his pants and hopped on one leg as he put them on. “You think you the only one with plans?”

He’d never seen anybody get dressed so fucking fast. By the time they walked out the VIP booth, Renzo’s wrinkled shirt was missing a few buttons and was on inside out, and Low was missing one side socks and his underwear.

He ignored Shay’s knowing grin as they snuck out the back entrance. They opted to text Dax to drive them since both Low and Renzo had been drinking, but by the time they made it outside, Dax hadn’t shown up yet.

Renzo tugged Low into him and they fell back against the SUV, hands roaming and tongues doing that obscene thing they tended to do to each other.

“I love you.” Renzo turned them until Low’s back was pressed to the vehicle, stroking his cheek, gazing at him with the fucking world in his eyes. “Don’t stop loving me.”

“Can’t stop.” Low kissed his knuckles. “Won’t stop.”

Renzo narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that the lyrics from a hip-hop song?”

Low grinned. “You complaining?”

“No. I—”

A sharp burst of wind exploded across Low’s left cheek, stinging. The car window next to his head shattered.

“What—”

Renzo’s eyes rounded, terror in them as he yanked Low toward him then tossed him to the ground. Low cried out as he fell onto his hands and knees.

A deafening sound filled his head. Unmistakable.

Gunshots.

Shouts echoed. Shattered glass stung his skin, even more fell on him as the SUV rocked. Renzo was calling his name, but Low’s throat wasn’t working. He curled up into a ball, both hands over his head as he pressed himself against one of the SUV tires. But as quickly as it started, the gunshots stopped.

Then someone grabbed Low by the collar, yanking him upright. His eyes flew open.

Renzo was watching him. A gun pointed at Low. So if Renzo was there—

“Don’t move…” The person holding him spoke in a smug voice just as something pressed to just behind his ear.

No.

“One step and he dies, Vega.”

No.

Low opened his mouth, to scream, to say something, but no sound came out. Renzo stood mere feet away, that gun in his hand unwavering, expression cold. Calm. He wasn’t looking at Low, not yet. His gaze was focused on however held him.

Low shook, knees knocking, hands useless at his sides. What should he do? He didn’t know what to do. He kept his head immobile, scared to blink. To breathe. The gun at his ear skated down to his neck and Low’s heart jumped to the back of his throat.

Choking.

He stared at Renzo with wide eyes. Begging.

“I don’t know who you are,” Renzo said lightly. “But somebody must have told you this right here was a suicide move.”

The gun man panted in Low’s ear, smelling like soap and cigarettes. “Timothy Groves sent me.”

Renzo lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

How was he calm? How was he just standing there when Low couldn’t even speak, not with that gun up against his skin? Not with that man’s grip on the back of his neck. Not with fear freezing him from the outside out. His teeth chattered and he couldn’t even do anything to stop it.

But Renzo was calm, gray eyes glancing at Low, pausing for a moment then moving on.

“Yeah, you think you can just—”

Low didn’t see Renzo’s hand move, but he heard the sound of the gun going off. And he felt its impact when it slammed into the body behind him. The man at his back jerked.

Low screamed, shaking hands coming up to cover his face as he doubled over. His knees hit the ground seconds after the gun man did.

Oh God. Oh God. He scrambled away without looking at the body behind him, hurrying to get away on his hands and knees. All the glass, they cut into him. He felt it, but he didn’t.

He just needed—he had to get away.

Hands touched him, his nape.

Oh God. He fought then, arms swinging with his eyes closed. No. No.

“Low, it’s Dax. I need you to move.”

Dax. That was Dax. He should move, but Low couldn’t even open his eyes. He was frozen and Renzo…

“Renzo.” He found his voice then, screaming for Renzo. When he opened his eyes all he saw was Dax, face serious, a gun in each hand, crouched over him. “Dax.” He grabbed Dax’s shoulder. “Where’s Renzo?”

“On three I need you to run over to the silver car to your right.” Dax didn’t even look at him. “You hear me?”

“Where is he?” Panic turned Low’s words to icicles. His heart had become a permanent fixture in his throat.

“Focus, Low,” Dax barked. “You want to help Renzo, I need you to do what I say, when I say.” He glanced over his shoulder for a brief second. “You get me?”

“Yes.” Low jerked his head. “Yes.”

“On three, run as fast as you can to the silver car to your left and get into the backseat. It’s already unlocked.” Dax took a deep breath then stood, legs braced, guns at the ready as he surveyed the area. “One, Low. Get ready.”

Low fisted his hands.

“Two.”

He rose to a get-set position.

“Three. Go. Go.”

Low ran. He didn’t even know how he managed. Because he couldn’t feel his body. He’d gone from feeling everything, to being fucking numb in an instant. But he ran straight to the silver car, yanking open the back driver’s side door and diving in. The door closed behind him and he rolled from the seat onto the floor.

Heat in his throat. Thumping, Thumping. So loud. He didn’t hear anything else, not even gunshots.

What was happening? Where was Renzo?

His eyes stung and he found himself heaving, shuddering. Needing to scream, but too scared to make a sound. He balled a fist, stuck it in his mouth and bit down. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, horrible shudders rocking his frame.

Someone opened the car in the front and got in the driver’s seat.

He froze all over again, whimpers forming and dying in his throat as he chewed on his knuckles to stifle them.

“Low? Low, it’s Deacon.” A gentle hand settled on his shaking shoulders. “Look at me.”

He got to his burning knees, fist still in his mouth, and met Deacon’s eyes. “Renzo. Where-where—”

Deacon’s implacable expression softened. “He’s fine. Give him a minute. Okay? You’re okay?”

He wasn’t. He was as far from okay as possible, but he nodded. Deacon didn’t seem to buy it, though. Smart man. “Dax?”

A muscle in Deacon’s jaw jumped and he turned away to stare out the windshield. “Dax is fine, too.”

Someone yanked the car door open and Low almost leapt out of his skin. “Low!” Renzo dove in at him, arms wrapping around him so tight. “Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He pulled away just as Low went to hug him, hands searching as they hurried out his body. “You’re okay? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Low whispered, and Renzo yanked him back into his chest. Low burrowed into him, clutching him tight. When Renzo sat back onto the seat, Low climbed into his lap, face buried in his throat, hands settled in a death grip around him.

“Take us home, Deacon,” Renzo instructed tersely. “Dax is following.”

Deacon drove.

Low didn’t know anything else other than Renzo’s breath on his temple and the sound of his still galloping heart in his ears. He couldn’t stop shivering, even with the warmth of Renzo’s arms. He kept feeling the impact of Renzo’s bullet hitting the gun man. The way his body jerked then fell stiffly to the ground. Against his ear, Renzo’s lips moved, but Low heard nothing except glass shattering and the rat-tat-ta-ta of gunshots flying above his head.

He zoned out, only coming back to himself when Renzo lifted him out of the car. Low clung to him as they entered the house and Renzo carried them straight up to the master bathroom and sat Low down on the closed toilet lid.

His body wasn’t working right. He needed Renzo’s help to lift his foot and remove his shoes, to tug off his pants, until finally his lover took over undressing him completely. Low sat back, eyes squeezed shut as Renzo finished undressing him then turned on the shower.

Why couldn’t he do anything more than blink?

Shock. He was in shock.

Renzo scooped him up and carried him to the shower, stepping inside still fully clothed while Low was naked. Renzo held him upright under the spray of the hot water. Low closed his eyes. He lifted a hand to the stinging spot on his cheek and his fingers came away dotted red that the water immediately washed away.

His knees collapsed on him and he went down.

Renzo went with him, arms around his waist.

The tremors were so hard his teeth rattled. The hot water seemed unable to penetrate his skin and warm him deep enough. Renzo’s arms, that embrace he loved so much, did nothing either. Water poured down his face and Low had no way to decipher if they were from the shower raining down on them, or his tears.

“I’m so sorry. Sorry you had to deal with that.” Renzo whispered to him. Words of apology. Of love. Words Low desperately wished chased away the cold that took up residence in his veins, his bones. They stayed on the floor of the shower until the water started to cool then Renzo lifted Low out, drying him as he just stood there, staring off into space.

Numb.

Renzo dressed him in clothes Low had left in his drawers. Gray Henley, army-green joggers and black wool socks then he helped Low into bed. Under the covers before quickly dressing in a similar outfit. Covers pulled up to his chin, Low managed a faint nod when Renzo told him he’d be back in a sec.

That sec took forever, though. He curled in on himself, hugging a pillow to his middle. Sitting up only when Renzo reappeared with a cup in his hands that he held out to Low.

A cup of tea. The flavor he preferred, with a slice of lemon the way he liked.

As Renzo’s looked on, expression grave, Low sipped that tea. When he was finished, Renzo tugged him into his arms and they settled under the covers. Face in Renzo’s chest, a hand fisted in Renzo’s shirt, Low realized he’d started to thaw.

And that’s when the tears fell.