Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
The compass on Zolt’s left pec came into view first, and Leo couldn’t help but stare at the tentacles reaching from the waves all the way on the other side of the massive chest. The tattoos were as intricate as old nautical engravings, and since the floor inside was elevated, he was now looking straight at them. Heat choked Leo’s throat when his gaze drifted lower, down the trail of hair on Zolt’s stomach, but he caught himself in the act and met the piercing blue gaze watching him from the tanned face. Zolt was tall, slightly taller than Leo was, but also bulkier, and as they faced one another, Leo felt like a stag about to enter a bear’s lair.
Zolt let out a low chuckle and leaned against the open door. The shift of his stomach muscles drew Leo’s attention to the sharp edge of his Apollo’s belt, which emerged from the sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“And there I was, thinking you came here for business,” Zolt said in his deep voice, smiling from behind the thick dark beard.
Leo forced himself to breathe again. “Well, it’s not a booty call. Can I come in?”
Leo wasn’t exactly an average Joe but Zolt? That guy was something else with his big fat Rolex and larger-than-life personality. Unapologetically gay and known for dealing with those who weren’t on board with that by way of smacks and punches. Leo couldn’t help but admire Zolt in a weird, not-at-all-sexual way
“A man can keep hoping.” Zolt walked down the bare corridor, gesturing for Leo to follow him inside his home. Leo knew he should keep his gaze to the thick dark hair on Zolt’s head, or at the very least on the many pistols, skulls, and troves of treasure tattooed on his back, but he couldn’t help himself and let his gaze slide lower, where the soft fabric hugged the tops of Zolt’s buttocks. Even Mike wasn’t built like this, despite hours spent at the gym. Zolt had Hungarian heritage, but Leo could’ve sworn he was a descendant of Greek gods.
He closed the door and entered the modest apartment at the back of the pawn shop.
“I came over to see some guns, not for flattery.” Leo shook his head but couldn’t help a smile as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans.
Zolt walked him into a tidy, mid-sized living room that also featured a kitchenette and a small office space. A comfortable-looking leather sofa was the largest piece of furniture, but as Leo took in the space, he imagined that Zolt used the lounger next to it much more frequently. The two seats were congregated around a wooden coffee table and faced the one wall featuring anything resembling decoration—a huge TV and shelves filled with DVDs and PlayStation games. It was a legit bachelor pad, though Leo didn’t think Zolt was the kind of guy who wished to put a ring on another man’s—or anyone else’s—finger.
“Didn’t think you’d pick them up so soon. Something happened?” Zolt asked and approached the kitchenette, taking a bottle of whisky off the counter.
Leo’s body hair bristled at the magnificent sight Zolt made half-naked, pouring himself a glass of whisky and stuffing a thick cigar between his lips. He had no doubt that if Zolt were straight, any woman he wanted would have been his. Amanda would have said yes to him, no questions asked.
“Hm? Ah, yeah, the guns.” Focus, Leo. Focus. “Those Jackal Brothers have moved their caravans closer to Hawk Springs. They drove through our town earlier, and Dad’s pissed off. It’s always good to have a few spares.”
Zolt hesitated but poured some of the liquor into a second glass before approaching Leo in all his masculine glory. Leo bet his dick was in proportion to the rest of him too. Zolt’s watch, a chunky Rolex that likely cost a fortune, definitely was.
“Really? Thought they were active near Reno. Why are they moving?” Zolt asked, handing Leo the glass. Was he standing too close, or was it just Leo’s gay-panic mode setting in, like it often did around Zolt? It was almost as if those dusky, tattooed arms produced sparks of electricity whenever Leo was alone with him.
Nothing some liquor couldn’t help with, so Leo accepted the glass. “Don’t know. They’re a bunch of hobos on motorcycles. Maybe they got into some trouble in Reno, and they’re looking to cook their meth for a less picky crowd. As you can imagine, we’re not having it. Shit’s tense.”
Zolt hummed and took a sip from his glass. Perfectly groomed, his thick beard was yet another feature that flaunted his testosterone levels. Leo couldn’t have grown one so dense, but there was one more thing that fascinated him about Zolt’s facial hair—the scar it obscured. Barely on show where it cut past the side of Zolt’s upper lip, only to disappear beyond the black hairs, it represented a secret Leo didn’t dare ask about, because doing so would have revealed that he noticed Zolt’s lips in the first place.