Above and Beyond Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  More from Andrew Grey

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  About the Author

  By Andrew Grey

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  Copyright

  Above and Beyond

  By Andrew Grey

  Sequel to Over and Back

  Bronco’s Boys: Book Six

  When Salvatore Adruccio finished his time in the military, he moved on to a life of good friends, cold drinks, and hot men. His job as a bouncer at Broncos is fun and drama-free, at least until sexy but secretive server Elliot Hastings catches his eye.

  On the run and in possession of evidence that could expose his stepfather for the dangerous and powerful criminal he is, Elliot doesn’t want to draw anyone else into his troubles. But when a thug catches up to him and Salvatore fends him off, he decides Elliot needs his help, even if he won’t admit it. Attraction quickly heats into passion, but Elliot is wary of commitment when he might have to drop everything and run at any moment. The only way they can be together in all the ways they want is to take out the threat posed by Elliot’s stepfather and his underworld ties.

  And Salvatore intends to do just that.

  To all the fans of this series. It’s always difficult to say goodbye.

  Chapter 1

  ELLIOTT HASTINGS glanced toward the front door of the club for the hundredth time in about three hours. He needed to calm down and get his act together. He took a deep breath, turned, and bumped into one of the guys hurrying across the floor. Somehow, he managed to not drop the tray of glasses he’d just cleared and was taking back to be washed. That was a God-ordained miracle, considering he’d already spilled a drink and had a martini glass shatter on the concrete floor. Of course, the guys around all clapped, because that’s what assholes did when something like that happened. Elliott wondered how people like that actually had graduated from kindergarten.

  He got the glasses back to the dish room without breaking any more.

  “You need to be more careful,” Grant, the head of the waitstaff, told him as he got ready to head out again. “You’re here on a trial basis.”

  Elliott nodded, and his self-esteem took another little ding. He had practically begged for a chance. Elliott needed a job badly or he was going to find that the life he had just managed to start was going to come crashing down around his ears. Leaving everything had been hard, but necessary, though leaving his dog with a friend had nearly killed him. And starting over had been difficult enough, but having to try to do it again when he was barely hanging on by a thread as it was…. “I know, I’m sorry.” He grabbed a clean tray and headed to check on his tables.

  The beat of the music hit him like a wall as soon as he passed through the door out of the back area and into the club. Part of him fed off that beat and the energy, while another part would never get used to it. When he was out there, the music largely retreated. But when he left and then came back, it was like he’d just walked into the club for the first time. Still, he put that aside as best he could and returned to work.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?” Elliott asked a group of six guys who had crammed themselves around the table he had just cleared. It was one of the smaller ones, and the guys were going to find it hard to keep their drinks straight. Maybe they didn’t care.

  The guy closest to him, wearing a maroon shirt and painted-on jeans, turned in his chair, parting his legs a little, probably to give Elliott a better view. Elliott ignored the move. He’d seen it before, and frankly, he wasn’t interested. Grant had told him that this was a job. It didn’t matter that he was cute and that the guys in here were all gay—they were customers, and he was expected to act professionally, be polite, smile, and get what they wanted, but he wasn’t to flirt or spend extra time talking. Being nice was one thing; trolling for dates was quite another. And Elliott was more than ready to be done with that sort of thing.

  “I’d like a martini, sweetheart.” The guy flashed a million-watt smile, but Elliott knew what those meant as well.

  He jotted down the order and took the rest of them for the table. He turned, and Maroon Shirt patted his backside. Elliott whipped around, glaring and shaking his head at the man before hurrying to fill the orders.

  “Did he just grab you?” Hank asked from behind the bar.

  “He patted me, yeah. I think I took care of it, though.” God, Elliott wished he could get his voice to work. He was getting so tired of being afraid all the time. He felt like some jumpy cat ready to run and hide at any moment.

  “If you need any backup, be sure to tell one of us. That sort of thing isn’t allowed.” Hank crooked his finger and leaned over the bar. “You are a cocktail waiter, not a piece of meat for anyone to decide that they can feel up. This is a job, not a profession.” He smiled a little. “Don’t be afraid to tell someone about things like that or to ask for help. It’s what we’re here for.”

  “I don’t want to cause trouble,” Elliott said. That was the very last thing he wanted.

  “You aren’t causing trouble. Someone like Mr. Touchy-Feely over there is the one to borrow trouble. Bull and his other security guys will be more than happy to toss guys like that out on their ears.” Hank gave him another smile and filled his drink order. “Go on, and know we have your back.”

  “Thanks….” Elliott returned to the table, delivered the drinks, and made sure the cash they gave him was enough to cover it.

  “Keep the change, little guy,” Maroon Shirt said. There was a pretty generous tip included. “And maybe when you go on a break, you can come over and spend a few minutes with us.”

  “Thank you,” Elliott said for the tip and ignored the rest. “Can I bring you anything else?” He almost didn’t wait for an answer before heading to his next table, taking away the empties, and getting their orders for refills before making his way to the bar. “It’s busy tonight.”

  Hank nodded, taking care of Elliott’s order and putting the dirty glasses in a busser tray for him. “It is Friday, but who knows, maybe somebody put something in the water today.”

  Elliott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s-behave-badly juice.” He glanced at the table. “He asked me to stop by on my break.”

  “Huh…,” Hank said. “Look. When it’s break time, go over to that table instead and introduce yourselves. The guys are nice. The one looking this way is Bull’s husband, and another is Harry’s. Those four guys are great, and they aren’t going to let anyone hit on you. It will give you a few minutes away from Mr. Grabby Hands to let him cool down.” Hank stood up straighter, and Elliott followed his glare across the room to the table with the grabber.

  Elliott took his drinks back to the tables and continued making the rounds. That was the part of his job he liked and what he was good at. He had been waiting tables in restaurants and clubs for years. Elliott knew what he was doing. It was the fear that crept into him that made him as jumpy as a cat.

  For much of the next hour, he managed to avoid Maroon Shirt’s table. He already knew what they wanted and brought them refills, but didn’t stay long.

  “Hank told me someone has been giving you trouble,” Grant said, when Elliott was taking plates and things to the dish room.

  “I handled it,” Elliott said.

  “Okay. Just so you know, we have your back.” Grant smiled.

 
At break time, Elliott took Hank’s advice and approached the table of guys a year or two older than he was. “Hi,” he said nervously. “I’m Elliott. Hank said that I should come over on my break and….” He felt stupid and was about to tell them never mind and scurry back into his little rabbit hole. He could take his break in the office area.

  “I’m Zach, and this is Kevin, Tristan, and Jeremy.” Zach pushed out the empty chair at the table. “Of course you can join us. Have a seat. Do you need something to drink?”

  “I’m working, so a Diet Coke or something.”

  Jeremy slipped off his stool and wove through the crowd toward the bar.

  Elliott sat down and placed his hands in his lap, checking the front door and hating himself for doing so.

  “Are you expecting trouble to come storming through?” Zach asked. “You keep looking at the front door with dread. This is a safe place. Yeah, there are a lot of people here, but there’s plenty of security. Whatever you’re worried about, Bull and the guys can handle.”

  “Are you here all the time?” Elliott practically had to shout to be heard over the music, and it made his voice rough.

  “No. We usually come in a few nights a week,” Zach told him. “We work, but with the guys here until all hours most of the week, it’s a chance for us to get together and to at least be where our husbands are.” Zach smiled as Bull—a huge bald man—approached, leaned down to Zach, and kissed him fully.

  “Everything all right?” Bull asked Zach.

  “Yeah. Apparently, our new server, Elliott, is having trouble with a table and some wandering hands.”

  “Geez, word gets around fast.” Elliott was determined not to blush because they were talking about him. “I handled it, sir,” he told Bull.

  Bull turned to face him. “Okay, but we’ll keep an eye on them. If they made advances to you, then they might do it to others. We don’t allow that kind of troublemaking here. This is a gay club, and we all know that guys come in here to meet other guys and that’s part of what we’re here for. But we won’t stand for anyone being accosted or pawed at when they aren’t interested.” Bull’s gaze grew hard for a second and then softened. “We’re a family here. The people who work for us, Harry and I, all of the people here, we look out for them.”

  Elliott nodded. “Thank you.” Those few words were as close to a family as he had right now. He swallowed hard. That was just what he needed to hear at the moment.

  Bull placed a hand on Zach’s shoulder and leaned closer to say something in his ear. Zach grew red, and Elliott turned away; it seemed like an intrusion to watch. Then they parted, and Elliott’s heart ached for something like that. He’d thought he’d found it, but like so many of the things in his life, he’d been wrong about it.

  Bull moved away, the huge man giving Elliott a single pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

  Jeremy returned and distributed a round of glasses for each of them. Elliott tried to hide his heartache by taking a drink of the soda. It went down cold and wet his throat.

  Elliott checked the time and saw he had five more minutes. He drank the rest and set the empty glass on the table. “I don’t want to intrude on your time together,” Elliott said, and went to get up from the chair.

  “Dude,” Jeremy said, “just sit and stay off your feet for a few minutes. It’s okay.” He smiled. “Did you just start?”

  “Yeah. This is my third day, and already I’ve broken three glasses and nearly dumped two trays.” Elliott felt like such an idiot, knowing he was better than that.

  “Why are you so nervous?” Jeremy asked. “Grant only hires experienced servers, so I figure something has to be up.” He smiled. “And speak of the devil.” He stepped off the chair and hugged Grant as he came to the table.

  “Hey, guys,” Grant said, and turned to Elliott. “Any more problems?”

  “No. But if I have any, I’ll come to you or Bull right away.” This time Elliott did get up. “I need to get back. Thank you,” he said to Jeremy and the other guys, then hurried to get a tray and check on his tables. He was glad that the night was nearly half over.

  An hour later, Elliott was making his way around the edge of the club, through a crowd of people watching the dancers writhe and grind to the techno beat, when a hand descended on his shoulder. “You’ve been busy, little rabbit.”

  Elliott pulled away and turned around. He hated that name. “And who are you, the big bad wolf?” he retorted, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested. Now please let me get back to work.” Why did guys like this think just because they had nice eyes, good hair, and were built pretty well that they could get away with this kind of behavior?

  “Come on, little rabbit. I have a carrot with your name on it.”

  Elliott couldn’t help it. He practically dropped his empty tray as he started laughing. “You have got to be kidding me. Does a line like that really work on anyone? Go back to your friends or else I’ll call security and they can take care of you.” He turned away and headed toward the bar, but was wheeled around and ended up facing a rather drunk and pissed-off patron in a maroon shirt.

  “I’ve been nice and tipped you well….”

  Elliott’s eyes widened. “I’m not someone you can buy with a tip and then think you can come on to like this. Go back to your table and leave me alone.” He looked around to see if he could find anyone who could help him. When a pair of intense green eyes met his for a second, Elliott’s stomach went cold as ice. The crowd shifted, and when Elliott looked again, he didn’t see the man he expected. He turned and hurried away, jostling a few people, then slammed into a solid brick wall of muscle. Elliott hadn’t seen him before, but the guy was six feet six, at least, and wide as hell.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” It was only when he backed away that he saw the guy was dressed in a black polo that stretched across his ample chest, with the Bronco’s logo on the left side.

  “The guy there wouldn’t leave me alone. He grabbed my backside earlier, and now he’s pushing his suit. He thinks because he tipped me well that….” The words spilled out even as Elliott kept a watchful eye for the man he feared most of all, but he didn’t see him and wondered if his fear was conjuring up things.

  He looked over the crowd. “It seems your friend is getting up to leave, along with his friends. Have they paid for their drinks? And left enough that you don’t get stiffed?”

  Wow, most people didn’t worry about the servers or what they got.

  “Yes. They gave me the money for what I brought. I didn’t let them start a tab.” Elliott was definitely smarter than that.

  “Good job. Then I’ll make sure they leave and don’t cause any more trouble. Go on toward the bar and stay there a minute.” He flashed what turned out to be a rather nice smile and then made his way toward the table.

  Elliott hurried to the bar, watching out for a particular set of eyes and the man who went with them, but he didn’t see anything more.

  At the bar, he placed his order with Hank and turned to watch the crowd, his heart racing. It was just a sea of guys dancing and doing that all-too-familiar mating ritual in order to entice someone else, one way or another. While Hank made his drinks, Elliott let his mind wander for just a minute. He was so familiar with those movements. Fluidity and grace on the dance floor equaled the same traits in the bedroom, while power and intensity yielded the same. At least that was the theory anyway, the one most of the guys in the club were operating under.

  That used to be him. Elliott used to be one of the guys out there on the dance floor. He knew how to shake it like it was hot, because he was hot. Or at least he had been.

  “You look far away,” Hank said as he set the first of the drinks on the tray.

  “Sorry. Just a little more drama than I expected.” Elliott sighed and kept his thoughts from sinking back into the past. It didn’t matter any longer. What had happened was over. He’d moved away and was trying to build a new life and turn over a new lea
f. That was what counted and where he needed to keep his attention.

  Hank finished with his order, and Elliott took the tray and headed off. In general, most of the guys had had enough to drink that they were pretty mellow, except for the mean drunks. It was pretty easy to tell who they were, and Elliott steered clear of them.

  A large group of guys left his tables a little after midnight and a new group took their places. They seemed intent on nursing their drinks for the rest of the night, which made Elliott’s job easier, but it didn’t do shit for his tips, which he needed if he was going to make his rent.

  “Can I bring you anything?” Elliott asked when he made his next pass.

  “No, we’re good,” one of the guys growled. “They just want us to buy their overpriced drinks.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle, right in front of Elliott, and filled up his buddies’ glasses. Elliott left the table to find someone.

  “Are you lost?” the huge guy he’d bumped into earlier asked.

  “No. I was looking for you. The guys at tables three and four snuck in their own drinks. They have a flask taped to their body or something.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “By the way, what’s your name?”

  “Elliott.”

  “Salvatore,” he said, and headed over to take care of the problem, which involved some yelling and two other bouncers to pick up a couple of the guys and half carry them out. The others didn’t want any trouble and left on their own.

  “Thank you,” Elliott told Salvatore when he passed him again on his way back to the same tables, which had filled with other groups almost right away.

  “No problem….” He looked as though he was about to say something else and stopped himself.

  “What?” Elliott asked, a little confused by Salvatore’s reaction.

  Salvatore shook his head as though he were trying to remove a bad thought or something. “I was about to say ‘no problem, cutie,’ but that would have been inappropriate.” He grinned and turned away.