Solomon Lynch figured his decision to help his boss’s son escape from under his dominating thumb would cost him his job. Instead, it nearly costs him his life. He’s jumped and beaten in an alley, but Solomon has no delusions about who sent the men. He only lives because his ropes weren’t tied tight enough, and he manages to escape the cinderblock that was meant to send him swimming with the fishes.
He doesn’t remember much after that, but rousing in an unfamiliar place is a mixed blessing. Doctor Anthony Keller is hawt! Solomon realizes instantly that the doc returns his attraction, but his instincts tell him that Anthony is hiding something. Besides that, how can he drag the handsome man into his screwed-up life, a life that could be cut short any minute by a vindictive rich guy?
Opening his eyes once more, Solomon again swept his gaze over the handsome man caring for him. He guessed the guy couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old. The stranger had short, thick, finger-combed auburn hair, and a warm smile curved his thin lips.
“Hey, let’s take a listen to that chest again, huh?”
Then to Solomon’s surprise, the man pulled away and crossed to a dresser. He placed the cup on it, then picked up a stethoscope. With what appeared to be practiced ease, he fitted it to his ears as he returned to Solomon’s side.
The man then placed the cool round piece on Solomon’s chest and instructed him to breathe.
Solomon obeyed, inhaling and exhaling several times. Finally, he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “You’re a doctor?” His voice came out raspy, and talking tickled his throat. He let out a light, rough cough, then settled again.
“What?” The man winked at him, spreading his arms. “Don’t I look like a doctor?” Grinning widely, he took the stethoscope out of his ears, resting it around his neck. “I found you while I was out swimming, so—” He glanced down at himself and shrugged. “Didn’t really think clothes mattered more than making sure you were okay.” The man’s expression of mirth fell away. “You have an awful lot of shallow cuts, handsome, and I can tell they aren’t from a boating accident. Are you a criminal? End up on the wrong side of a gang or something?”
Solomon instantly shook his head. “Naw, not a criminal. Ex-military.” Holding up his hand, he offered, “Solomon Lynch. Unemployed currently, because I disobeyed the order of a rich asshole bastard.” Thinking about the doc’s question, he realized something else. “Shit, guess I did end up on the wrong side of someone, just not a gang.”
The doc took Solomon’s hand, but instead of shaking it, he gave it a gentle squeeze before bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles.
The light touch of the doc’s lips caused goose bumps to rise on his arm. His blood heated and rushed to his groin. He sucked in a harsh breath, surprised at the level of attraction and arousal filling him. It’d been a long damn time since he’d reacted to a man so swiftly, if ever.
“Someone rich. Hmmm,” the doctor mused. “Anyone I know?”
That cooled Solomon’s ardor a touch. Right, doctors were normally wealthy, weren’t they? Or was that a stereotype?
The man’s brows shot up. “Oh, right.” His smile turned wry. “My apologies. I’m Doctor Anthony Keller. Feel free to call me Anthony.” His smile turned hungry as he swept an openly appreciative gaze over his bare chest. “Or lover, eventually.”
Anthony’s open come-ons couldn’t have been clearer. The man wanted him.
Solomon was honest enough with himself to admit he wanted Anthony, too. Spending an afternoon exploring the man’s lean torso and nipple bars would be fantastic fun. Unfortunately, he wasn’t about to drag the handsome doctor into his mess. Solomon remembered Jim as being one of his attackers. There was no way that was a coincidence. He had to figure out a way to prove that Armando Whitney was involved.
“Hmm, have I made you uncomfortable?” Anthony hooked a nearby chair with his foot and dragged it close. He settled onto it, leaned forward, and placed his palms on the bed. “Are you going to claim to not be gay, Solomon? Because I think we both know that’s not the case.” Anthony cast a pointed look at the blanket…and the blatant tent Solomon’s hard cock made of it. “If you weren’t littered with almost a dozen knife cuts, I’d already be sucking that like a popsicle.”