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words. He reached out and touched Matthew’s face. He wasn’t normally that forward with touching strangers but something about this man just brought out the protector in him.
    The man flinched. Shane drew back, hoping he hadn’t overstepped the mark. “How does a man with your sexual proclivities get to work for a slimy homophobe like Debussy?” he asked.
    “I took over from my dad when he died,” Matthew said. “It seemed to work for both of us until now. He’s never been that obvious about it before.”
    “I don’t know how you could have worked for that bastard,” Shane said, his hands waving in agitation. “And that other bloke is a complete arsehole.”
    Matthew frowned. “I don’t disagree on Roy. But beggars can’t be choosers. It was a good job. Walter left me alone as long as I did what he needed to sort out his trust funds and financial affairs. We managed to tolerate each other.”
    Shane nodded. “Sounds like a match made in heaven.” He ignored Matthew’s scowl. “Do you have a car nearby to get you home?”
    Matthew nodded. “Yes, it’s in the hospital car park. I suppose I should get home and get some sleep. I’ll need to start looking for another job later today, I suppose.” He stared unseeingly out across the car park then turned to look at Shane. “How about you? Do you need a lift home? How did you get here anyway? It looked like you’d been running when you came in.”
    Shane nodded. “I had. I heard the news and the tubes had stopped running. There were no taxis, so I legged it from the Baglione. It’s no big deal. I’ve run longer distances.” He’d grimaced as he remembered he’d left his treasured laptop, called Bushwhacker, back in the safe. He’d have to go back and fetch him.
    “Were you at the hotel with David?” Matthew asked. “I know he was staying there tonight. I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend.”
    Shane looked at Matthew. “I’m not. I was his escort for the evening.”
    “I see.” In those words, Shane thought he sensed judgement and he scowled, his back up.
    “I’m not a fucking prostitute. I’m an escort. I don’t sleep with all my clients, only if I choose too. So don’t take that tone with me.”
    Matthew looked taken aback by his sudden vitriolic outburst. “Jesus, Shane, don’t have a hissy fit. I’m sorry if I sounded off, I wasn’t judging you. It’s just been a rough morning, that’s all. I’m bloody tired.” He shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
    Shane felt guilty. “Sorry. I suppose I misread you. I get fed up when people think I do nothing more than shove my arse in the air for anyone.” He grinned. “I suppose I should explain my earlier comment about David jacking off all over me then? In case you get the wrong idea?”
    He saw Matthew’s wince and chuckled. “He’s a bit of a kinky bastard it turns out. He likes to roofie his dates. Then he likes to tie them up on the bed and jerk off. It started out fairly promisingly. I’d already decided I wouldn’t mind fucking him, but then he slipped me something and the next thing I knew I was covered in come.”
    “Hell, Shane, don’t mince your words, will you?” Matthew’s mouth twisted in both amusement and possibly distaste. “Thanks for that very graphic picture in my mind. I had no idea David was that way inclined. And I’ve known him since we were teenagers.” He frowned. “You have a real potty mouth, don’t you? Does swearing come naturally to you or is something you’ve cultivated?”
    Shane felt nonplussed. A prejudice against swearing seemed to be a thing with this man.
    “My grandfather was a fisherman,” he muttered sulkily. “I used to go out on the boats with him and he swore like a trooper. I suppose it’s a habit I’ve picked up on.”
    “Not a good one either. I’ve never quite understood why people feel the need to use profanity for everything. There are times and places for