Keyon had no idea why he did that.
Any of that.
All of that.
Outside the little mountain motel, Keyon slipped into the backseat of his Cadillac and didn’t look at either Zane or Dan.
“Do I need to clean up a body?” Zane asked.
“No.” Keyon gripped Huck’s shirt tightly and stopped himself from sniffing the fabric. A part of him wanted to rub the cloth against his naked cock, but of course, he refrained. He simply set the shirt in his lap, and no one asked why he held a man’s black button-down top. Not that his men would ask. He was the boss. Keyon could carry around a rabid monkey dressed as a clown, and no one would say a damn word.
“I bought gas from that Rooster guy,” Dan commented as the bodyguard’s eyes caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. Keyon wondered if he had a hair tie in his overnight bag. Using his fingers, he smoothed tangles.