He made a kissing sound in his ear, and Logan refrained from shrinking away. “Maybe another night. I’m going to sit here and enjoy my drink.”

  The man’s features tightened, but Logan knew what to look for when talking with people. It was part of his job, after all.

  “No problem. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Gentlemen and Ladies, if we have any visiting tonight…” A muted cheer sounded from the corner across the room. Logan spun on his chair to view the darkened stage. “Welcome to The Bone Yard. Our next dancer is a regular and favourite here. Let’s give it up for Black Magic!”

  Music began. A slow, sensual, deep drumbeat that fired all of Logan’s senses. The room silenced, his focus directly on the stage where he knew Bastien would soon be visible. His heart pounded in time with the beat, and he licked his lips as his mouth dried up. Despite having just survived a solo dance, he had a feeling this one was about to make him blow.

  A spotlight lit from behind the stage, showing Bastien in silhouette. All Logan could see were high heels, long legs, a cane and a top hat. As the dancer began to move, Logan was mesmerised once more. He believed Nolan when he said Bastien was their best. No one had ever held him spellbound before.

  Bastien stepped up to the pole, the spotlight at the back disappearing and reappearing from above him. The hat made it difficult to discern his features, but there was no denying it was him. Logan would know that body anywhere now.

  And wasn’t that a problem?

  ****

  Chapter 4

  Bastien

  Logan had been a constant visitor at The Bone Yard for the past few weeks, and Bastien was having a hard time dealing with his reaction to him. There were also days when Logan didn’t turn up, and they confused Bastien even more because he ended up disappointed and grumpy about it. Nolan had picked up on the reason for his behaviour, but no one else had seemed to.

  “Why not just find out his number and give him a call? Get the man out of your system, Black?” Nolan said one evening when Logan was absent.

  Bastien didn’t even know what the guy did for a living, so couldn’t think of a reason why except for if he was married. That would be his luck, shacking up with a married man.

  “What’s the point, Nolan? I’ll only have to go and find another guy when he loses interest. I’m saving myself some future heartache.” And wasn’t that too close to the truth for Bastien to acknowledge?

  After another day working the makeup for Deacon, the man asked Bastien if he wanted to go with him to a party.

  “I don’t know.” Bastien scrunched his nose up at the idea, knowing he’d much prefer to stay at home and work on more of his creations.

  “Ah, come on, B! There will only be a few friends, and we’re going to drink a few beers and have a chat. It’s nothing major.”

  As Bastien had an evening off, he reluctantly accepted. He had no idea why because it would be the first time he’d ever gone out with Deacon socially. At least it wasn’t a date. That, he couldn’t have handled.

  Standing in front of his mirror, he checked over his outfit for the evening. He’d decided on skinny black jeans; a loose, black sequined shirt, half-opened over a pale purple t-shirt; and heeled boots. On his face, he applied only enough makeup that he would normally do but with extra thick eyeliner. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was dressing for a date and make things uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to seem like he hadn’t made an effort. Deacon knew what he usually looked like, so Bastien wanted to show him that he wasn’t being aloof.

  The doorbell chimed, and he hesitantly drifted across the room to the door, taking a breath and firmly putting his social demeanour in place before checking the peephole and opening it to Deacon.

  “Hey! Wow, you look great!” Deacon said.

  “Don’t I always?” Bastien raised his chin. He grabbed his coat and draped it around his shoulders, knowing he would take it off in the car.

  Deacon held out his arm with a grin in place, and Bastien laughed as he locked his front door. As uncomfortable as the gesture felt to Bastien, he slid his hand into the crook of Deacon’s elbow and allowed the man to guide him out of the building and to the car.

  “So, the house is just on the outskirts of the city, but we’ll be there in no time.”

  “Did we have to bring anything with us?”

  Deacon shook his head. “Nope, just us.” He grinned at Bastien again, steering them onto the main road.

  “Work seems to be picking up for you.” Bastien glanced over at the man before twisting back to the passenger window.

  “Yeah, it is. I didn’t expect so many people to enjoy having those types of photos done, but it’s getting more and more popular, especially with word of mouth getting around. My previous clients are talking to their friends and so on, and I’m getting recommended more. It’s amazing.”

  “That’s great.” Bastien wished the same thing would happen for his jewellery business.

  “And more work for me means more work for you. If you want it, that is?”

  Bastien cocked his head and pursed his lips. “I’m happy to have more work. I have to make sure it doesn’t interfere with my other job, but it should be fine.”

  “Great. How is the dancing going?”

  “Good, thanks. I’m slowly climbing the ladder, so it’s a bonus for me.”

  “Why?”

  He exhaled. “Well, if I become more popular, then I will also get more tips, and I will be requested more often for dances. Both mean I earn more money, which is certainly not a bad thing at the moment.”

  “Sounds like you’ll be the star of the show before long.” Deacon glanced over at him, a small smile in place and a look in his eye that Bastien couldn’t interpret.

  Bastien chuckled. “They need more than just me to make a profit, but it works out for me. I’m not complaining.”

  They chatted about inconsequential things for the rest of the journey, and Bastien became more and more uneasy as the direction they were heading became clear. As with all cities, towns and villages, there were areas that were better and some that were…not. This was a place he would not have considered coming to had he been given a choice. Not wanting to upset his companion, he inhaled slowly and tried to settle his stomach.

  They pulled up at a tiny, terraced house, identical to several around them, and Deacon smiled before exiting the car. Bastien closed his eyes, trying to push down his panic at being in a place where drug deals, drive-bys and dead bodies were frequently recorded in the news. When his door opened, his eyes startled open, meeting Deacon’s bright gaze.

  “Come on. The fun is inside the house, not outside.” He chuckled at his joke, but Bastien didn’t find it amusing.

  Swallowing hard, he painted on his smirk and climbed out of the car, fussing with the front of his shirt before sliding his arms into the coat. All the actions were trying to delay the inevitable, but he couldn’t for long.

  Deacon grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the door, swinging it open before Bastien could say anything. Cheers greeted their entry, and Deacon lifted his hands high, taking Bastien’s with him.

  “Come on, let’s grab a drink.”

  Bastien didn’t bother to nod, knowing Deacon wouldn’t see it with the high-fives and back-slapping he was doing, all the while squeezing Bastien’s hand as if his life depended on it. There was a hell of a lot more people than Deacon had said there would be, which Bastien was not happy about. There was a whole lot of difference between a few friends having a beer and a huge party with close to probably fifty people.

  When they entered the kitchen, Deacon let go of Bastien’s hand, and he gently rubbed the circulation back into it. Glancing around, he saw bottles upon empty bottles of alcohol strewn across the counters, on the floor, piled up next to the back door, pretty much everywhere he looked. He wasn’t sure if those bottles had been emptied that night or not, but either way, it didn’t bode well for the outcome of his night. Bastien didn’t drink alcohol. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the taste or because he didn’t like what happened to him when he was drunk, it was more because he couldn’t afford it, but it meant his tolerance was a whole lot lower than other people’s. Plus, he preferred being in control in places he didn’t know. Especially this one.

  Deacon passed him a cup, and Bastien could tell, just by the smell, that it was full of alcohol. He smiled, though, and thanked the man before lifting it to his mouth and pretending to sip at it. After faking a swallow and licking his lips, Bastien smiled again. Deacon grinned and downed the drink he’d made himself, whirling around to make another one. Seeing no one looking at him, he tipped a little from his cup into a beaker near him, so he could show that the liquid was reducing if Deacon became anal about checking.

  Deacon came back to him and linked their hands together once more before shuffling in the direction of the living room. There were even more people packed in that small space with people sitting on top of other people or standing against the walls. There was no way anyone else would be able to fit without it becoming uncomfortable. All Deacon did, though, was pull Bastien’s back to his front and rest their linked hands over Bastien’s shoulder.

  It was at that point that Bastien knew he’d made a terrible mistake. Deacon thought this was a date.

  Bastien was tempted to down the drink when the knowledge swept over him, but he wanted his wits about him. He needed to figure out how to get himself out of the mess he’d gotten himself in.

  “Deke!”

  A tall, overweight man of indecipherable age came over, making Deacon let go of Bastien’s hand. Bastien stepped to the side, allowing the men to embrace.

  “Spike, man! How are you?”

  “Doing good, thanks.” His eyes darted appreciatively over Bastien, who inwardly cringed at the expression. “Who’s your friend?”

  Deacon slid his arm around Bastien’s shoulder, which he was more than grateful for at that moment. “This here is Bastien. He’s the artist who does all the makeup for my clients. He’s a gem!”

  “I can see that.” The man licked his lips. “Nice to meet you, Bastien.”

  “You, too,” he managed to croak.

  “I never thought I’d see the day you managed to catch a fly in your trap, Deke.”

  The two men laughed, sliding glances across at Bastien, which made his stomach churn more than it already was.

  Bastien needed to get out of there. “I can’t stay too long, Deacon. I have an appointment in the morning.”

  Deacon’s eyes narrowed, but he grinned. “Sure thing.” Then he went back to talking to the other man.

  Bastien’s gaze took in the room. More and more people were making out, humping each other, feeling each other up, and it was making Bastien queasy. Not the displays, but the knowledge that Deacon expected the same from him. He couldn’t think of a single thing he could do to stop it from happening apart from leaving.

  He watched as lines of drugs were laid out on the tables and other flat surfaces and plenty of people taking part. He never had and never would take drugs. Ever.

  After a very long half an hour of listening to Deacon talk to other people and ignoring him except when he wanted to drape his arm around him, which Bastien reluctantly let him do to keep the peace, Bastien decided it was time for him to go. Keeping up his social persona was wearing him out.

  “I’m going to head out, Deacon.” He kept his voice level and a slight curl to his mouth as he normally would and met Deacon’s gaze, crossing his arms and tapping his finger on his biceps.

  “I don’t think so, babe. You haven’t danced for us yet.” Deacon grinned, and Bastien’s stomach dropped.

  “I never agreed to dance.” He cocked his hip and set a trembling hand on his waist, raising a haughty eyebrow at the man. If Bastien had more people around that he knew, he could’ve done more, but he had to be careful.

  “You don’t need to agree; you’re a stripper, for god’s sake. When Spike gets back, it’s time for you to earn your time here.” Deacon crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk gracing his face, making Bastien withhold a shiver.

  “I don’t think so, Deacon. I only dance at the club, nowhere else.” Bastien mirrored the man’s posture, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist and trying to project his usual confidence.

  “I think that will change.” Deacon narrowed his eyes, straightening from where he was perched and making Bastien lift his chin to keep eye contact.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m heading out.” Bastien pulled his coat tighter around his body and stepped forward. Deacon grabbed his biceps and held him firmly.

  “Jer! Close up, will you? We don’t want our entertainment going missing.”

  Laughter flowed around him as a guy headed towards the front door and stood with his back to it, and Bastien began to panic. He had no issues with dancing for them if that was what it took to get himself out of here, but he was under no illusion that dancing was the only thing Deacon wanted. Where had he gone so wrong with the man? He’d thought the guy was nice, but underneath it all, Deacon was an asshole.

  Heat warmed Bastien’s back, and he tensed, glancing to the side and watching from the corner of his eye as Deacon moved in closer.

  “You’re my prize tonight, babe,” he whispered, his hands sliding down Bastien’s front and cupping his crotch.

  Bastien refrained from saying anything and, instead, chose to twist in Deacon’s hold, putting their faces nearer than Bastien wanted. He slid his hands into Deacon’s hair and gripped tight. “I need to freshen up if I’m going to dance for everyone,” he murmured, bringing Deacon close as if he would reward him with a kiss, then pulling away.

  “All right. The bathroom is up the stairs on the left.”

  Bastien could see Deacon’s eyes had dilated, and as he stepped back, the evidence of his arousal tented his trousers. Swallowing his disgust, Bastien sneered and headed to the bathroom.

  Locking himself in the small room, he sat on the closed toilet seat and rested his head in his hands.

  “What the fuck am I going to do?” he whispered. For a brief second, he’d wished he’d taken Nolan’s advice and found out Logan’s number, although he probably wouldn’t be any help against so many others.

  As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew what to do. He pulled out his phone, then paused to turn on the tap, hoping to mask his voice. Dialling, he waited, his eyes fastened on the door in case someone tried to enter.

  “Emergency, which service?”

  “Police, please.”

  “Hold, please.”

  He waited then answered the new person’s questions, giving his personal details, “I’m being held against my will, and there are drugs and drinking,” he whispered.

  “Can you give me your location?”

  “Not exactly, no. I know I’m in the slums of Cambridge,” he muttered.

  “All right. I have your location via your phone. We should have a car with you shortly. Are you in danger?” the operator asked.

  “Not in so many words. I’m going to go and dance like they’ve asked me to. It will keep them occupied while you guys arrive.”

  “If that will put you in danger, I would strongly advise against it.”

  “I’ll be fine as long as I dance. It’s when I stop there will be issues, so get here fast.”

  He hung up just as someone banged on the door.

  “You can’t stay in there all night, babe,” Deacon crooned.

  “Yes, I could,” he whispered.

  Standing, he checked his reflection in the mirror, seeing his usual social expression absent and the hidden façade plain for all to see. He shook his head, closed his eyes and pushed everything away except the need to dance. It didn’t matter who his audience was; he would dance his ass off and hope he could keep going until the police arrived.

  Turning off the tap, he lifted an eyebrow at his reflection, then opened the door. “I’m ready. Can we go into the living room? I think a tabletop dance would be good for starters.”

  Deacon’s eyes blazed, and Bastien pursed his lips, lowering his eyes and looking up at Deacon from underneath his lashes. He’d had plenty of practice; it shouldn’t be too hard to make-believe for a short time. He just hoped the audience wanted to see more dancing and less touchy-feely stuff.

  Deacon wrapped his arm around Bastien’s shoulder and guided him to the living room.

  “Yeah! Let’s get this party started!” Deacon announced, dropping himself on the centre of the sofa between two other guys.

  Bastien knew the coffee table would hold him as light as he was, but it was smaller than he’d realised, so moving would be problematic. He tilted his head. He could improvise though, making his movements smaller and more seductive might work to keep him on the surface and not flat on his face on the floor. If necessary, he’d dance towards the kitchen where there was a bigger table.

  “Come on! Get started, B!”

  Bastien inhaled and slid off his jacket, stuffing it under the table; his phone was inside, and he would need it. “Do I have a choice of music, or are you choosing?”

  “Hit the sound!” someone shouted, and music blared from speakers somewhere close.

  It was not something he had danced to before, but he let his body find the beat, then stepped onto the small table. Normally, he would’ve closed his eyes for part of the dance and allowed himself to get lost in the sound, but he couldn’t do that here, mainly due to who he was surrounded by, but also because he had such a small space to work with. He would have to keep an eye on where he placed his feet.

  Despite his reservations and fears, he allowed himself to relax enough to dance. He reminded himself of all the clandestine lessons he’d taken when he was younger. Knowing that his parents wouldn’t allow him to do such things, he’d become efficient at dancing quietly and in small spaces in his bedroom so he would never be found out. Having to do that here brought back all the memories from that time of his life.