“Speak of the devil.” He lifted his gaze as he approached the main bar and found T.J. swiveling around on his bar stool. “About time,” Brute muttered, turning from stocking chip packets behind the counter. Leo ignored the jab and took a seat beside T.J. The three of them needed to talk, only the look on Brute’s face said there wouldn’t be a lot of civility involved. “T.J. just finished filling me in on the stalker drama of Saturday night.” Brute leaned against the counter on the other side of the bar, his gaze scrutinizing. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.” Leo winced. “Fucking hell, man. Are you kidding me?” Brute’s voice rose with each word, sparking Leo’s anger. “My free time is none of your business.” It was a lie, a vain attempt to gain some ground over Brute’s holier-than-thou attitude.
