“Just his luck: in the middle of one of the oldest Muslim cities in the world, he’d stumbled into a gay bar. All I needed! Honeyed gazes followed him as he walked firmly to the bar, which was manned by a fellow with white skin, blue eyes, and blond hair. Sharko glanced at his watch – the taxi had dropped him off ten minutes early – and nodded toward an amber-colored bottle labeled OLD BRENT. “Whiskey, please.”
