And tonight, they were persisting like a bitch. Over the last six weeks, bruises and abrasions had healed the gunshot wound to his shoulder and the deep slice across his palm had closed but the headaches, although they had grown less frequent, persisted. Ever since an unfortunate collision with a baseball bat-wielded by the last killer Hazard had apprehended as part of his work for the Wahredua PD-he’d suffered from periods of severe headaches. The pounding, too, had gotten worse tonight. There it was again, that thought worming its way through the pounding in Hazard’s head.
Nico could just dance up on Hazard, peppering the grinding with long kisses that tasted like appletinis, and enjoy life. Tall, slender, with skin the color of toasted grain and with his shaggy dark hair, Nico didn’t need to notice anything-everybody noticed him, and that was enough. He didn’t seem to notice that the music was louder, that the lights were brighter, that Wahredua’s only gay club was somehow worse than normal. Nico, aside from a yelp, had borne it all pretty well. He’d just about broken Nico’s toes when he accidentally took a step. Even his dancing-which mostly consisted of swaying in place while his boyfriend, Nico, moved around him-was off. Everything seemed worse tonight: the music was louder, the swiveling lights were brighter, Hazard’s headache was angrier, and he was definitely more drunk than usual. The music in the Pretty Pretty seemed louder than usual to Hazard. EMERY HAZARD NEEDED TO break up with his boyfriend.Īs soon as the thought surfaced, Hazard buried it, turning his attention to the sights and sounds flooding his senses.
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