“Want a date?” Daniel Donovan, known only as Danny on the streets, laid his hand on the big man’s arm and got the strangest feeling. A kind of a tingle ran up his fingers, into his hand and arm.
“Get your hand off me and don’t ever touch me again.”
Daniel snatched his hand back, rubbing his fingers together to work off the unsettling sensation. What he’d wanted to do—what was in his head—until the man spoke, was run his hand down the leather clad arm to the man’s hand and bare flesh. Confused by a desire he’d never had before, he half-shook his head to get back in his character. “No offense.” He clenched his hand and backed off a step. “I just read the signals wrong. You aren’t going to bash me or anything are you?”
Had he ever read the man wrong! He thought he’d seen interest in the gaze of ice blue eyes sweeping over him. The reception he got instead told him he better be damned careful, and he flinched when the big man leaned toward him and sniffed. Sniffed? What the hell was that? What the hell was he smiling about?
“If you want a bust, try the guy on the end. He’s a pimp. He’ll either chase you out of his territory, beat the hell out of you for invading, or…” His eyes traveled over Daniel’s face, down and back up from his chest behind a too tight T-shirt to his crotch and the cutoff jeans he wore so short his balls peeked out if he wasn’t careful in how he moved or sat. “…cold cock you and force you into his stable. You better have good backup.”
“I ain’t no cop.”
The man turned back to face his drink. “So you say, kid.”
“I’m not—” He bit the words back, nearly forgetting his cover in an instant reaction to how young he looked. As far as his appearance went, he’d been stuck in puberty since he was sixteen years old. A sore spot for Daniel and the bastard taunting him smiled at that, too. “Who the hell are you?”
“No one who is any of your business.”
“I doubt that.” Predator popped into Daniel’s mind. The man was a predator.