Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True (6 page)

“Do you always size a man up like that?” Max asked in way of greeting as he perched his large frame on the stool beside him, grinning slyly.

This might be easier than I thought.
Angel continued staring at Max.

“No. Not all men. Only the ones worth it,” Angel stated in his deep voice.

“Are you saying I’m worth it?” Max questioned, raising one brow.

“Are you?” Angel let that lone response linger for a minute as Max eyed him curiously. “Is Max short for something?” Angel finally asked.

“Maximus.”

That sexy voice rolled out the powerful name. Angel loved it, and he thought it fit this Spartan to perfection. He decided to try it on his tongue.

“Maximus.” He purred sensually.

Jesus, Mother-n-Joseph, Max had never heard his name sound so fucking sexy in all his days. His name rolled off the man’s lips like butter running off a hot roll.
How the fuck does he do that?
Max was feeling even more confused now than when he left the man three days ago standing in the middle of his club, like a master of his kingdom.

Max had always been attracted to women only. He didn’t have anything against gay men—his brother Ryker was gay, and he loved him more than anything in the world. They’d both recently discussed settling down now that they were over thirty. But, whenever Max pictured that special person, it was always—hands down—a female, preferably one with big tits.

“What are you thinking about, Maximus? Titties or pussy?” The man beside him spoke indifferently.

“What?” Max chuckled nervously. “What the hell made you ask that?”

“Because you were licking your lips while staring at nothing in particular, I assume convincing yourself that’s what you’re attracted to.” He paused for emphasis, leaning closer to Max, and whispered, “Not me.”

Fuck me. Inquisitive fucker.
Max wasn’t quite sure what to tell the interesting man, he was right on both counts. Up until three days ago he was positive that he was a straight man and only attracted to the opposite sex. Now, one meeting with this angelic enigma and he was questioning what he knew of himself to be true for the past thirty plus years.

Max asked Angel what he was drinking.

“Jack and Coke,” he replied, bringing the glass up to his full mouth to finish off the amber liquid.
A real man’s drink.
Max signaled for the bartender and ordered another for Angel and one for himself.

“You always buy drinks for men you hardly know?” Angel questioned.

“Nope. Just ones that I’d like to be cool with…you know.” Max tried to respond as casually as he could muster. The thought of never seeing the man again didn’t bode well with him. However, he thought he better get some things out in the open and clear the air so that there was no confusion between them. He needed to let Angel know that he wasn’t gay. All the weirdness that transpired between them at his club was not how Max typically behaved, but nonetheless, he shouldn’t read more into it than it was.

“Oh, I see…so you want to be buddies…pals? Maybe start our own wolf pack,” Angel replied sarcastically. It made Max grin and roll his eyes knowing the man was mocking him. Angel pivoted his body on the stool to look straight into Max’s eyes, those dark chocolate pools doing strange things to his brain.

Never seen eyes that damn intense. It’s like being sucked into a dark ocular vortex. If
I don’t get these crazy feelings under control I’l die a slow death trying to work my way out
of it.

They sat in a stare-off for a long agonizing minute, with neither aware nor caring if others were watching their nonverbal exchange of power. Max knew that if he was gay he wouldn’t be a coward and hide in the back of a lonely closet. Even in his profession, where extreme masculinity was damn

near an unwritten job description. He wouldn’t hide or be ashamed of the person he loved. It also wouldn’t be an issue if he was a gay fireman because…hey…look at his very dominant gay captain.

Max stared openly, and Angel’s all-consuming gaze never faltered. It was like he was trying to imprint his beautiful golden face into Max’s mind. That face was truly a sight to him. Angel’s black tresses were pulled back today and controlled by a black leather binding and braided. Max liked Angel’s dark eyes. They were set below not-too-thick brows that were naturally shaped.

His nose was smooth and aligned, obviously having never been broken. He had high cheekbones that had the nerve to display dimples when the man smiled. The dimpled chin was not too round or square, and it was the perfect size to cup in Max’s strong palm and tilt up for a kiss on those luscious lips.

Ahh hel .
Max was being completely mind-fucked by Angel when he heard the heavy door of the pub burst open and slam into the wall hard enough to put a crack in it when it connected.

Three men rushed inside in a blur of ski masks and black hoodies. Two men had 45 caliber pistols and the third slightly larger man toted a 12-gauge shotgun. Max watched one man jump over the bar and shove the barrel of the shotgun into the bartender’s back, nudging him toward the cash register.

“Open the register…fast! Goddammit! Don’t try to be a hero!” The man’s orders were clear but his words were muffled through his mask.

Max guessed the other two vagrants’ responsibility was crowd control.

They were both yelling, “No one moves and no one gets hurt.” Max turned to look at Angel and was immediately struck by the man’s calm demeanor.

He still had his drink in his hand and actually took a large sip.
This man is
definitely someone I could hang out with, that is of course if we make it out of this
ridiculous stick-up alive.

Max had had enough emergency situations training to last him a lifetime.

He wasn’t scared of these punks but he was damn nervous. These kids were whacked out on something and obviously desperate for even a small amount of change.
Damn drug addicts.
However, the thought of the man beside him being shot or hurt didn’t bode well with him at all. He wasn’t going to try to

take down three armed men by himself, it was too risky. Max could only hope that the robbers really didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Angel.

However, his new friend’s cool exterior was helping to ease his nerves.

He prayed the few bar patrons would follow the masked men’s instructions…and for God’s sake, he hoped no one tried to be a hero.

He looked at the bartender with the gun now pointed at his head and saw that the pudgy man was shaking so hard he could barely manage to get the small quantity of bills into the paper bag. Max tried to remember as many details as possible of what he could see of the three men. He knew it wouldn’t be very helpful since they were so heavily layered in bulky black hooded sweatshirts and jackets.

Damn, these guys are dumb.
Max thought.
Wearing that outfit in Virginia in July
screams ‘Hel o, cops. I just robbed someone. Because otherwise, I’d have on shorts and a
tank top like a normal person in ninety degree heat.’

Angel watched the two ignorant assholes continue to bark orders at the few people that were now crouching in corners covering their faces trying not to make direct eye contact with the men. He, however, was taking in as much as he could. He placed his drink down softly on the bar as not to startle the man with the gun aimed at the bartender.

Angel hoped these men took what they needed and got the hell out of there. He didn’t know if Max believed he was the designated hero since he was a firefighter…he silently hoped not. He didn’t want to lose Max already without even getting to know him. For some reason that thought pained Angel, and he turned to look in Max’s blue-gray eyes. It was as if something had clicked between them when they had their stare-off, because Angel could have sworn they were both telling each other with their eyes
“Don’t do anything
stupid.”
Max gave him a slight wink.
Oh damn.

One of the crowd control flunkies made his way over to where they were sitting at the end of the bar and pointed his gun at Max’s back. Angel’s pulse kicked up ten thousand beats per minute, but he expertly controlled his

breathing like his father taught him.
Never let your attacker know you’re afraid,
because then they have control. Even if you are afraid, or angry, control your breathing at
al times. It’s not humanly possible to never get scared or angry, but it is possible to trick
your opponent into thinking you aren’t. If you have ful control of your emotions then you
will make rational decisions…and therefore defeat your enemy.
Angel let his father’s words penetrate his mind as he began to take deep, even breaths.

“Both of you fuckers get up and move to face the wall…now! You both look like fucking troublemakers,” the masked man barked out at them with the gun trained on Max.

This guy is an idiot
, Angel thought. He mentally rolled his eyes as he and Max moved off their stools in unison and moved toward the back wall.

The man looked back to Angel. “Hurry up…move it! Let’s go pretty boy…I don’t want you and him trying anything funny.”

Max was walking in front and Angel heard him chuckle, maybe at the “pretty boy” reference. Max was definitely the man of Angel’s dreams, he had a forty-five pistol pointed at the back of his head and he was laughing. It made Angel smile. He saw the robber move in closer to Max, obviously not liking him finding this situation humorous.

Angel reacted so swiftly the man would’ve never been able to counter his efficient move. He executed a roundhouse kick to the man’s right temple that landed him flat on his back in mere seconds. The gun was dislodged from his grip and slid under the booth next to them. Angel was back up and standing very close to Max’s front before the man managed to get his bearings and work his way off the floor. Clearly he was trying to process what the fuck just happened. Angel stared the man down as he calmly walked him and Max backward toward the wall. They were both facing the man, watching his jerky movements carefully as Angel’s back was pressed firmly against Max’s strong chest, their steps in complete unison. Max’s back touched the wall bringing them flush against each other.

He felt Max’s heart beating rapidly against his back.
Fuck. Stay calm, Max.

He hoped he hadn’t fucked Max’s head up, but he wouldn’t dare take his eyes off the situation in front of him to check. There were still two other

armed men, and Angel wasn’t positive if the man he disarmed would freak or not.

Angel noted immediately when the other two jackasses realized that one of their men had been taken down, and they decided not to wait around to see what Angel was going to do next. The man securing the cash jumped the bar like a track star and was out the door in three seconds flat, not caring if his comrades followed.
No honor among thieves.
The man that was left behind was staring at Angel like a deer caught in the headlights.
Damn, what is wrong
with the youth today?
Angel thought.

He felt Max’s hot breath on the back of his neck, before making its way around to his ear. “Now that was something I didn’t expect. So you’re some kind of martial arts expert, huh? You thought I needed protecting, Angel?”

Max purred soothingly into his ear, his lips gently brushing the outer rim.

Shit… stay focused, stay focused, stay focused.
Angel chanted his mantra in his head. Max’s mouth on his ear was a very big distraction and even more difficult to ignore. What was with him? Max had just giving him that bullshit let’s-be-friends mumbo-jumbo. Pals didn’t purr seductively into each other’s ears.

Angel felt a soft caress work slowly down the length of his braid and felt Max press his nose to the crown of his head and inhale deeply.
So he does like
the way I smel . Wel , this was not the plan I had in mind to seduce Max, but damn if
this circus show robbery didn’t work out perfectly.
Angel wasn’t open to people messing in his hair, but Max’s touch felt all kinds of right.

The young punk Angel had kicked in the jaw had a devilish frown on his face. His lip was curled up into an evil snarl as he spat at them. “You fucking faggots.” He was scrambling, trying to make his way to the front door, while stumbling over overturned chairs and rearranged tables. That word never bothered Angel, but he wasn’t sure how Max would take the derogatory slur.

A strategically placed “faggot” inserted into the beginning of a gay relationship can cause damage, especially to a man who’d sworn he was straight seventy-two hours ago.

Angel stood motionless enjoying their contact, still in a protective stance in front of Max, when he felt that hot breath wonderfully caress his ear again.

Max pressed his mouth firmer against his ear this time, making him unconsciously tilt his head to give Max a little more access. Angel felt the curve of Max’s smile against the side of his neck, and…wait!
Holy shit. This
can’t be this easy.
Angel unmistakably felt Max’s erection pressed delectably against his ass.

“Well, are you going to grab him or should I?” Max’s deep voice penetrated his erotic haze. Angel looked up and noticed the fallen robber searching for his firearm under the booth.

“I got him,” Angel growled. He took quick, determined steps toward the man, kicking bar chairs out of his way and grabbing the man with both hands by the collar, slinging him into the nearest booth. The man went flying into the seat like he weighed twenty pounds and Angel never even broke a sweat.

“Be quiet and stay there if you value your life,” Angel said calmly, pinning the man to the wall with a fire hot gaze that said
I’m fucking serious
.

Angel spun around, his braid swinging over his left shoulder as he heard Max tell the bartender to calm himself down and dial 911, everything was over now. Some of the bar patrons were rising from their hideouts and applauding them.