The hotel suite door clicked shut at 2:17 a.m.
No one spoke at first.
The room was one of those upgraded team suites — king bed pushed against the wall, pull-out couch already unfolded into a second bed, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sleeping city. Bags dropped haphazardly by the door. Lights stayed off except for the soft blue glow from the TV on mute.
Room reserved for just the top line.
Riley stood in the middle of the room like he didn’t know where to put his hands. Still flushed from the bus. Sweats low on his hips. Hoodie unzipped. Eyes darting between the three men who’d just spent forty miles turning him inside out.
Jaxon kicked off his sneakers first. Stretched like a cat, shirt riding up to show the fresh bruises Dima’s fingers had left on his hips earlier.
“Kid
