Free Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux by Abigail Madeleine u Roux Urban

wife he’d lost, the life he’d lost, off his mind.
    His life had become a high-wire act, and every breath brought him closer to death. He had begun to place bets on what would kill him first: the drinking, the drugs, or the cartel. Tonight was a soiree, held to celebrate the success of a deal Zane had been active on closing. He’d also been active on sending the details to his handler, and he lived in fear of being found out.
    The rooftop garden in downtown Miami had been commandeered by the Miami boss, and no expense had been spared to entertain their new partners from Colombia. Alcohol and heroin flowed freely, mixed with multicolored designer drugs and neon blue drinks that looked like antifreeze and kind of tasted like it too. Expensive escorts, both male and female, roamed the crowd, offering their services.
    “Xander,” a man said as he approached Zane. Zane smiled and turned toward his boss, accustomed to the fake name. His boss had a woman on each arm, both smiling and beautiful, eyes raking up and down Zane’s frame. “I have your yearly bonus,” el Jefe said with a sideways leer at one of the women.
    Zane glanced at her, and his stomach turned at the thought of taking another woman to bed.
    “Gracias, Jefe. But no thank you.”
    “What is it?” el Jefe asked. “Her tits are perfect and her ass is sublime!” He smacked the escort’s ass to prove his point.
    Zane laughed and nodded, though his mind was still desperately churning.
    “Jefe, I think maybe I’m not his type,” the woman said with a pout.
    Zane was nodding before he could think twice, latching on to that excuse like a lifeline.
    El Jefe began laughing and slapped Zane’s shoulder. He dragged Zane along with him, taking him toward a corner where people sat drinking and laughing, some sprawled on the plush couches, others perched on the furniture, showing off their wares for anyone interested.
    “You pick your own prize, Xander! Have fun tonight, you deserve it!” el Jefe said as he left Zane there and returned to the two women he would be taking for himself.
    Zane watched him go, one eyebrow raised as he realized that nobody cared who he took to bed tonight as long as he didn’t rain on anyone else’s parade. He glanced toward the open bar, fully intending to drink himself into a stupor and pass out on one of the deck chairs around the pool.
    He caught a man’s profile in his peripheral vision and quickly looked back to find him. For a brief moment he would have sworn it was the man he’d seen in New Orleans all those months ago. When he caught sight of him again, he realized his mistake. The resemblance was striking, though, and as Zane stared, the escort caught his eye and gave him a slow smile.
    For the first time in months, that smile stirred something in Zane. He swallowed hard, recognizing the same feeling he’d noticed in New Orleans when the singer in the bowler hat had winked at him.
    The man was making his way through the crowd, eyes on Zane, smile still soft and inviting. Zane licked his lips as he drew closer, noticing the way he moved through the crowd, appreciating the roll of his muscular shoulders. Yeah, Zane was definitely attracted to him.
    The man stopped in front of him, and Zane stared, unable to get his mind to push past the drugs and alcohol clouding his thoughts.
    “Do I know you?” Zane finally asked.
    “Would you like to?”
    Zane nodded. The man reached out and took his hand.

    “Wait, so you picked out the guy in Miami because a dude in New Orleans winked at you the year before?” Ty asked, incredulous and almost offended by Zane’s story. They were sprawled sideways in the king-size bed, feet hanging off the edge.
    Zane draped his knee over Ty’s thighs, his fingers idly running through the fuzz on Ty’s chest. “You have your type, I have mine.”
    “My type is dark hair!”
    Zane barked a laugh. “Your type is a gun.”
    “Whatever, Zane.” Ty slid his arm under Zane’s neck and