His hands shook. If he let go of the Roadmaster’s steering wheel, Jack knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d slam his fist through the windshield or his window or into the dash. The streets were deserted, dead before the dawn, and he ran more than one stop sign in his haste to get out of Paul’s neighborhood.
He’d been a fool. And worse, he’d played the fool when faced with the truth. He’d lashed out and said things he didn’t mean, simply because he wanted to hurt Paul. He didn’t know if he’d even managed to do that, though. The man was made of stone. They’d spent a fantastic night together—f*****g and dancing and hell, having more fun than he could remember—and the first thing Paul could think of upon waking up was his bloody reputation. No Last night was great. No I wish you didn’t have t
