Breaking the Play boy′s Curse(2)

“Shut the fuck up,” Ricky snapped. “No way in hell is that biker dude a fag.”

“Cop or not, you’d probably get your ass kicked if either one of them heard you calling them that. Besides,” he added, “as an officer of the law, you should know there’s a steep penalty for being involved in hate crimes.”

Ricky’s eyes narrowed. “You accusing me of something?” he snapped.

Draven rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Just tired of your language,” he admitted.

“What the hell do you care what I call…” His voice drifted off as he pulled into a parking stall, slammed his car into park, and glared at Draven. “You got somethin’ you want to tell me, Mansetti?”

He’d wondered how long it would take Ricky to get his head out of his ass. For being a detective, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Draven grinned, not at all put off by the bigger man’s snarling. Good thing, too, because the guy snarled a lot. Maybe he was repressing something. Hmm…

Draven opened the door and climbed from the car. He leaned back in and smirked at the man. “It’s about time you noticed,” he quipped. “If I stared at guy’s asses any harder, their pants would start on fire.”

Without waiting for an answer, Draven shut the door and started toward the diner. It occurred to him that he could end up getting left without a ride, but then his clearly enraged partner growled his name. The car door slammed and he heard the crunch of shoes on gravel.

Or Ricky could do something stupid…like attack me.

He imperceptibly slowed his pace, guaranteeing that Ricky’s hand dropped on his shoulder at the same time they passed an alleyway. Draven grabbed his partner’s wrist, then spinning, gripped his arm in his other hand and pinned Ricky’s arm behind his back. He propelled the man into the shadows and against the wall.

Ricky had enough time to lift his free arm, keeping himself from face-planting against the stone. Draven didn’t need his vampire strength to hold the man in place, but it was nice just in case Ricky surprised him. His partner didn’t.

Draven leaned close and murmured, “You really shouldn’t presume that being gay makes someone less capable of taking care of themselves, Malone.”

Ricky looked over his shoulder at him, his features easing. “So, what? This was a test? You’re not really…gay?”

Chuckling, Draven eased his grip. “Oh, I bet it just killed you to use that term, didn’t it?” He winked. “See? You’re learning to be more tolerant every day,” he said, not bothering to confirm or deny Ricky’s words. He released his partner and turned his back on him. “Come on. I’m ready for a burger.”

Draven knew the guy would figure it out soon enough. He wondered if he’d end up with a new partner because of it? Giving a mental shrug, Draven figured it didn’t matter either way, although—in Ricky’s favor—the other detective was reliable and good at his job. His personal life was what seemed to be in shambles.

A couple seconds later, he heard Ricky jogging up behind him. He could tell by the sound of his footsteps that his partner had calmed. Draven found it interesting how aggressive footfalls seemed to have their own ring to them.

When Ricky punched him in the forearm, he turned and lifted a brow as he looked at the man. He knew it was Ricky’s odd way of apologizing. The dude seriously had macho issues.

A bell jingled overhead as Draven opened the door and strode through. The welcoming sound drew the attention of the hostess, who greeted them with a smile. She led them to a booth at the window and placed a menu in front of each of them. After she walked away, ignoring the menu, Draven lounged against the backrest of the bench seat and looked out the window.

Draven noted a man across the street that appeared lost. He just kept his eyes from narrowing in interest as he realized who the guy was. Tim. Draven’s soon-to-be warlock apprentice stood on the sidewalk across from the diner, put his hands on his hips, and looked around slowly.

Well, well, it was clear that the man was searching for something. When Tim’s gaze landed on the diner and his focus riveted to Draven, he couldn’t help it. He smirked at Tim. Lifting a brow, he tilted his head toward the diner’s door, non-verbally inviting him in.

Tim’s brows creased, and he looked at a large man in jeans and a black motorcycle jacket. Kontra. Both men headed toward the crosswalk.

The arrival of the waitress with coffee interrupted his perusal of the men. Draven sure was glad that the myth about vampires only drinking blood was false, otherwise he’d have to come up with all kinds of excuses to avoid eating with his partner. He placed his order for a grilled turkey and cheese on sourdough with whatever greens the diner was specializing in that month.