Boiling Point

"Drake. Good to see you, man."

Drake nodded, grinned. "Denny. Smells like steak."

"You know it." His old friend was looking good -- muscled, solid, happy with the world. "How's it hanging?"

"Good. You're looking very settled."

Denny shrugged. "It's a good life. Cain's blossoming. You meet Jeren?"

"The hungry blond? We weren't formally introduced."

"Name's Jeren Mattheson. Works with Cain."

"Looks like he needs a dozen of your steaks." Maybe two dozen. Of course, Jeren had looked hungry for more than just food.

"He won't eat three bites of the one I give him."

One of his eyebrows rose. That boy had been skinny with a capital S. Hungry in so many ways he couldn't even count.

Denny shrugged, smiled. "He lives on nicotine, caffeine, and the periodic whiskey. Cain says he's brilliant."

"Ah, yes, the crazy artist role." He grinned. He believed in order, discipline.

Denny's look was pure wickedness. "Indeed. He's a firecracker."

"Here is your beer, Drake. Love, would you like anything?" Little Cain came out, beaming at Denny. Very cute. Very sweet. Saccharine.

And Denny was up to something, Drake could tell.

Denny shook his head. "You two set the table. We'll be there in a minute."

Cain nodded, headed in, ass swaying.

"You're up to something, my friend." Drake wasn't one to pussyfoot around.

"Just making food."

Uh-huh. Right. Drake was going to beat the man's ass. "That's why you sent the boys back into the house."

Denny lifted an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I have an ulterior motive?"

"I'm doing more than just suggesting it."

Denny flipped a huge t-bone. "He needs help. You haven't had a boy in two years."

"A set-up. You're setting me up." He was a little stunned at Denny's audacity.

"Not at all. I simply put an opportunity in front of you."

That was a set-up, right?