Free Brothers by Bond by Brenda Cottern Page A

as he waited for his eyes to adjust. When they did, Mike looked around as he made his way to the bar. His police training took in everything in one glance. Men between the ages of twenty-five and sixty sat around the bar, alone or in small groups. They don't all look gay was the first thought he had and then was ashamed he was stereotyping the group.
    "I'm Rob," the bartender introduced himself. "Welcome to the Jungle. What can I get you?" The guy looked young, barely twenty-one, but Mike had a feeling he was likely older even if he didn't look it.
    "Bud Light," Mike replied and tried not to look around the bar again.
    "Bottle or draft? Bottles are two-for-one and the drafts are a buck," Rob the bartender told him.
    "Bottle will work," Mike pulled a ten from his pocket and put it on the bar in front of him before he sat down.
    He watched the bartender retrieve his beer and couldn't help the stereotypical thought that filtered across his mind. He looks like any other bartender . Rob wore jeans that weren't super tight, but did hang down low on his hips, and a muscle shirt with the bar logo on it. He wasn't very feminine nor very masculine and Mike had to admit that if he had met the guy outside the bar, he would have no idea he was gay.
    "Here you go," Rob said as he set the bottle in front of him along with the poker chip. Mike slid at ten across the bar and picked up the chip to examine it. One side said the Jungle while the other said one bottled beer.
    "New in town?" Rob asked when he returned with the change.
    Mike wasn't sure if the question was innocent or a come on. How do guys pick each other up?
    Mike studied the patrons as he sipped his beer. Aside from the lack of women, this could be any other bar in the city. These were just regular guys enjoying happy hour. What did you expect? A gay fuck fest?
    Mike was suddenly disgusted with himself for his assumptions. Since everything he had assumed about gay guys seemed to be shattered, he tried to analyze how he felt about the men in the bar. Some were attractive, he was comfortable enough with his masculinity to admit, but none excited him the way Johnny did. Even the guy on the corner of the bar, who was a blonde like his best friend, did nothing for him. Not even a cock twitch. So maybe he really wasn't gay?
    Mike felt more confused now than he had before he entered the bar. He was taking the last swallow of his beer and about to use the chip for another when his phone buzzed.
    "Holding hostages is a crime... Even if it is food." The text read and Mike noted the time on his phone. He had been gone for almost four hours and he was sure this was Johnny's way of checking up on him
    Mike thought about a reply as he left a tip and picked up his bills and the chip. He absently stuck everything in his pocket as he left the bar and replied to the text.
    "Don't waste the negotiator's time. You won't starve. C U soon."
    Mike drove home hoping that Johnny wouldn't resume pecking at him like a wife after a night out with the boys. Not like Mike would know anything about that except from what Johnny had shared about Susan's nagging.
    He walked into the house and found the living room empty, again. Only he didn't panic this time nor call out. Mike heard noise from the kitchen and found Johnny standing in front of the stove, using his crutches instead of his walker. A pot of water was steaming on the stove and a jar of sauce was on the counter next to a box of pasta. Mike move toward the fridge with the intention of grabbing a beer, when he stopped short. On the far side Johnny an open Bud light sat on the counter.
    "If you were drinking that while on your pain meds I'm going to kick your ass... hip replacement or not," Mike growled and frowned at his best friend.
    "There's the Mikey I know and love," Johnny grinned at him and gave him a wink which made Mike's gut clenched again. When Mike continued to frown, Johnny plowed on, "It's for you, asshole. I figured you might want it."