Page 7 of Watcher
A light knock tore him from the conversation. “Come.” Atticus never took his gaze away from holding Foster’s stare. He needed Foster to understand he would also be doing that soon.
Seth cracked the door open. He stuck his head into the room, as if worried about what he would find. “Your food is here, sir.”
“Saved by a sushi roll,” Atticus mumbled before responding. “You can bring everything in here.”
The tall, blond man, who doubled as the final, boss-level guard to get to Atticus, carried two bags inside and set them on the fully stocked bar. He slipped away, leaving them alone again.
Atticus stood. “Let’s eat.” He bided his time until they were settled back down again with their food. “What does my dossier look like with Tracker on the case?”
Foster lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, and he swallowed the bite he had taken the moment Atticus asked him a question. “If he has one, I’ve never seen it.”
Foster kept him puzzled. He had sneaked into Atticus’ house for six weeks, yet he showed next to no interest in Atticus’ life. His indifference made Atticus want to share. “Would you like to know me?” In a blow to his pride, Atticus chuckled, sounding nervous as he made the inquiry.
Foster took a drink from his bottle of water. He stayed focused on Atticus like he wanted Atticus to know he listened. Still, he gave Atticus nothing. “What are we doing tonight?”
“Fucking.” Atticus dismissed the question even as he answered it. He couldn’t let the topic of Foster’s detachment go. “I’m thirty-five. You are…” Atticus raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Not thirty-five.”
The response was the final straw that snapped him. “As much as I’d love to claim I don’t play games, I absolutely do, but I don’t like this one. You can find somewhere else to go tonight.”
In a flash, Foster’s mouth covered his, and their tongues fought. The aggressive kiss was exactly what he had been waiting for. He knew Foster had passion. He wanted to experience the ride, not get burned by his fire.
Foster pulled away an inch. “Stop acting so fucking spoiled.” He kissed Atticus again. This time, everything felt way more intimate. Foster kissed him slow and shallow, the way Atticus imagined he did while making love. This time when Foster pulled away, their foreheads met. They both panted for breath.The lust clogging the air was too thick for them to get any oxygen.
“For the record, it’s not an act. I am spoiled.”
Foster chuckled. He stole another quick kiss before moving away. They stared at each other in silence.
Atticus couldn’t take it. Foster had been watching him for weeks and still looked as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Atticus.
“What do you see when you look at me?” Atticus asked quietly so he wouldn’t break the spell.
“A beautiful, fascinating, isolated, and uncherished creature.”
“Oh. You see yourself.”
They sat in silence, holding each other’s gaze. Atticus wasn’t so sure he knew where this was headed any longer. They didn’t feel like a game anymore.
Foster relived every word of his conversation with Atticus while trapped in a dissociated drive. Seconds before Foster passed the exit to go home, he changed his mind and kept driving. Atticus had wanted to know if Foster had read his dossier. Foster hadn’t, but only because the thought never crossed his mind. He had been too busy plotting his constant stalking.
Foster whimpered. That kiss, though. Holy shit. He had intentionally tried to goad Atticus into anger, because damn. When Atticus was irritated, his entire body lit, flashing in his eyes and vibrating through his skin. Foster had needed to taste that fire so badly. Now he had mixed feelings about his actions. While Foster didn’t regret a damn thing, he had to admit he was more curious than ever.
While Club Affinity wasn’t open to customers yet for the day, they were open to feed the homeless. Foster knew he could have called Tracker to give him a heads up. This visit was pride-stinging enough. He only wanted to make the request once and, hopefully, be out before Tracker had too much time to think. Letting curiosity grow in their family was a bad thing.
Once inside, Foster nodded at people as he passed. He wasn’t one to shit on the homeless. His entire family had gone without a place to live for a while after escaping the Russian spy program that trained them. He knew too well how it felt to go hungry.
Tracker sat at the table closest to the food with Zeus. They smiled at his approach.
Foster dipped his chin in greeting to Zeus first before focusing on Tracker.
Tracker didn’t give him time to say hi. “He lives. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Foster snorted at the ridiculous statement. “You saw me yesterday, and I know you. There isn’t a move I’ve made you haven’t tracked.” As the words left his lips, the horror set in. Tracker had probably checked his location several times over the last few weeks and knew exactly where he had been. He supposed that made this visit less of a surprise.
“We didn’t get to talk yesterday, but I know you prefer to keep to yourself. I’m never surprised when I don’t see you around.”
Foster nodded along, wondering if he should feel some way about that statement. Now wasn’t the time. “Is it okay if we talk?”
