Racing the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

and left him there.
    Man, he didn't know how big the fucking trunk was on that Mustang, but five huge-assed bags came in, toted right down the hall without a word. Then Blondie came back with a bag, dropped it at his feet and started locking up. "You want a soda or a beer before I look at your foot?"
    "I want a beer. I'd best go with a soda." Damn. They were almost being civil. Must be the drugs.
    "'Kay." Two Cokes came out, along with a big assed bunch of grapes in a froufy little bowl. Damn. The boy must be fucking the real estate lady. No one got that kind of service.
    "Mind?" He grabbed a couple of grapes, knowing that some food would start settling his stomach.
    "Go for it." MJ swiped the fucking remote and spread out on the floor, flipping until he hit a
  news station. Then a roll of heavy-duty Ace wrap came out, along with this long piece of curved metal. "Okay, I'm going to wrap it up. It's going to fucking hurt. Don't scream."
    "If I'm a good boy do you kiss it and make it better?" Fuck, it already had him sweating.
    "No, if you're a good boy I'll give you a shot of morphine and let you sleep." A quick snip with the scissors and his sock was history.
    Oh, that sounded good. Course he might wake up by himself, but oh, well. He'd get all the toys.
"Lemme have it."
    "Let me get you bandaged up and then you can flash your ass for the needle." The tape was wrapped around, MJ surprisingly careful, not jostling his foot too much.
    It looked pretty gross, but he'd hurt himself enough to know that while it would take a few weeks to be right again, it wasn't going to have to come off. Grinning at the thought, Sonny stared at the ceiling until MJ finished, his eyes only watering up once.
    "You got good hands, Precious."
    "They seem to work for me. Almost done, man. Just breathe and don't puke on me."
    Oh, good time for that warning. All of that sweet, gentle lead up was just a prelude to the excruciating pain that came after, when MJ wrenched his foot into a ninety-degree angle with his leg. It was like the guy in prison who kissed you nice and tender before bending you over in the shower and ramming you without any lube.
    He didn't scream, puke, or hit MJ. Hell, Sonny didn't even pass out. It was a near thing though.
    "Okay. Okay, Sunshine. Come on. Breathe. I'm drawing a shot for you, yeah? Just fucking breathe." He was rolled to one side, jeans unbuttoned and tugged down.
    "You just...want my ass..." He was panting, but he had to maintain his damned reputation, didn't he? Sonny clutched the couch cushions, feeling the shot start to relax him almost immediately. Morphine worked great on him. Too bad he'd wake up puking his guts out...
    "You know it, man. It's a fine specimen. You can ride me tomorrow when you're sober." His jeans were tugged back up, cock tucked right in as he was zipped up.
    He just shook his head, a ghost of a grin on his lips. "Fuckhead," he slurred, flopping a little as MJ got him all arranged on the couch.
    "Yeah, yeah. Morphine make you sick, man? I got a patch. I don't want fucking puke on my carpet."
    "Yeah. I...makes me. Gross." Whoa. Fuzzy tongue.
    "'Kay. I'll patch you." Something sticky got pressed to the back of his neck. "Night, Little Mary Sunshine."
    "Hold me, Precious." He laughed his way right into sleep, listening to MJ chuckle. The guy wasn't all bad.
    For such an asshole.
     
    ***
     
    Dude.
    Note to self. Waking up after your reds crash on you? Harsh.
    MJ blinked, looking around the room at all the equipment strewn everywhere. Man, he'd been busy.
    Real busy.
    He logged in, checked the date (man, he'd slept eighteen hours), his bank account ($15,000 happier), transferred funds around, and gave himself a thirty-day vacation.
    Then he pulled up the weather reports for Maui, Aruba and Cozumel. Somewhere nice and sunny.
    Oh.
    Damn.
    Sonny.
    MJ got up and wandered out toward the front; hopefully he hadn't killed the man. This town was a bitch to hide a body in.
    The guy was asleep on the