Chapter Seventeen
BACK TO WORK
A Steller’s jay raised hell outside the bedroom window, pulling Whip from sleep. He yawned as he stretched. The weight at his side drew his attention to the man still sleeping beside him. Beside him was an understatement.
Axel had somehow managed to migrate across an entire king-size bed during the night.
Considering the man could sleep through thunderstorms, gunfire, and Boone pounding on a motel door, Whip doubted the bird outside had even registered.
Which meant some part of Axel had already decided where he belonged.
The thought settled somewhere warm in Whip’s chest before his brain promptly betrayed him.
Without moving much, he took inventory. Sometime during the night Axel had decided personal space was optional and draped an arm and a leg over him.
He smiled. He didn’t mind that one bit. Not even a little.
The strange part wasn’t waking up tangled together. The strange part was how quickly it already felt like something they’d been doing for years.
Which was probably why his traitorous brain chose that exact moment to wander back to the conversation they’d had in the bathroom.
We don’t have condoms.
Of all the memories his brain could’ve latched onto first thing in the morning, it picked that one, and before Whip could stop it, his thoughts had already skipped ahead to the next logical question.
Who was topping?
He closed his eyes with a silent groan. Good Lord. He was lying here mentally planning sex like it was a warrant service, assessing the situation, identifying potential problems, and developing an operational plan before either of them had even had coffee.
His face heated. He was actually making mental lists.
Beside him, Axel made a sleepy grunt and pulled him another inch closer. Well, that certainly looked like a point in the Axel tops column. Then again, the man was unconscious, which probably made the evidence inadmissible. Hard to build a case around the subconscious.
Crap.
He needed coffee. Lots of coffee, preferably before his own imagination arrested him.
Easing away became a whole other challenge, but eventually Axel loosened his grip enough to let him slide out of bed without waking him. At least, that had been the plan.
“You sneakin’ off?”
Whip looked over his shoulder.
One blue eye peeked out from beneath a mess of dark hair.
“I’m making us coffee.”
“That better be where you’re going.”
Whip laughed.
“Where else could I possibly go?”
Axel smiled, then closed his eye again.
Another five seconds passed…
“You making breakfast too?”
Wearing only his faded jeans from last night, Whip leaned against the bedroom door.
“I hadn’t planned on letting you starve.”
“Good.”
Another five seconds passed.
“We got bacon?”
“You’re awfully demanding for somebody who isn’t even awake.”
“That’s how I roll.”
Whip shook his head, smiling as he headed for the door.
Before he made it into the hallway, Axel caught him by the wrist.
Whip turned back.
Axel leaned forward and stole a quick kiss.
Warm lips.
Just enough pressure to leave that familiar tingle behind.
Fantastic.
Now his dick thought they ought to skip breakfast altogether.
“Morning.”
“I thought we already covered that.”
“Now we did.”
Axel let him go.
Whip shook his head, but the lingering pressure of Axel’s lips followed him all the way into the hallway.
This was getting entirely too easy to get used to.
By the time the coffee finished dripping, Axel wandered into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and yesterday’s T-shirt thrown over one shoulder.
His hair stuck up in three different directions.
Whip had seen him after all-night surveillances, fourteen-hour manhunts, and sleeping in the front seat of an SUV.
Somehow, after a night in his bed, the man looked damned sexy.
“You know mirrors are free, right?”
Axel poured himself a mug of coffee.
“You still like me.”
“That remains under investigation.”
“Hm.” Axel took a sip. “You making eggs?”
“I am.” Whip reached into the refrigerator.
“And bacon?” Axel lifted his mug.
“Lots of it.”
“You’re definitely keeping me.”
Of course he was keeping him.
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
Axel shrugged like that was the least important part of the equation.
“We already live together.”
The man had a point.
Breakfast was halfway finished before either of them remembered there was a world outside Whip’s kitchen.
Sunlight spilled through the window over the sink, catching the steam rising off two coffee mugs while Axel demolished an unreasonable number of eggs.
“You know,” Whip said, reaching for another piece of toast, “normal people usually slow down after the first plate.”
Axel looked up.
“Why?”
“So they can taste it.”
“I tasted it.”
Axel looked offended, and Whip smiled wider.
“You inhaled it.”
“It was efficient.”
Whip chuckled.
“Is that what that was?”
Axel only grinned and took another huge bite.
The familiar rhythm settled over them, easy enough that it almost felt like yesterday had happened weeks ago instead of less than twelve hours earlier.
Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised him.
The kisses had been new.
This wasn’t.
They’d shared motel rooms, stakeouts, late-night diners, and more bad coffee than either of them ought to admit. Somehow the only real difference this morning was that Axel had kissed him before breakfast instead of stealing his toast.
His phone vibrated against the table.
Boone.
Damn…the job had impeccable timing.
He exchanged a glance with Axel before putting the phone to his ear.
“Morning, Boone.”
“Conference room. Thirty minutes.”
No hello.
No explanation.
Just Boone.
“We’ll be there.”
The line went dead.
Whip set the phone on the table.
Axel took another sip of coffee.
“Conference room?”
“Conference room.”
Axel nodded once.
“Well…”
He reached for another slice of bacon.
“Guess we’d better eat.”
Whip laughed despite himself. The condom aisle was looking less likely by the minute.
Some things, apparently, were not as important as federal business.
Boone was already standing at the front of the conference room by the time he and Axel walked in.
Knox occupied his usual chair, one boot hooked over the rung, spinning a pen between his fingers while Beth topped off coffee cups from a fresh pot. Nobody looked particularly excited.
Which usually meant Boone had something interesting.
“Morning, Boss,” Whip said.
Knox glanced up.
“You guys finally decided to show up?”
“You’re welcome,” Axel smirked.
Knox gave Axel a smart-ass salute.
“We were eating breakfast,” Whip said and took one of the chairs, Axel dropped down next to him.
Boone waited until everyone settled before dropping a thin file onto the table.
“For those wondering, Sissy Haskins surfaced last night—drunk off her ass with no memory of where she’d left her truck.”
Knox frowned. “How do you lose a truck?”
“Practice,” Axel answered.
Laughter circled the room.
“Now, Cutter.”
The room quieted.
“Our friends at the FBI caught a break late yesterday.”
Whip leaned forward.
Boone slid the photograph across the table. The baseball cap and sunglasses were meant to hide Cutter’s face, but they didn’t matter. Whip would’ve recognized the man from the shape of his shoulders alone.
“Looks like Cutter chartered a private plane yesterday afternoon,” Boone said. “It flew out of Redmond and landed at Renton Municipal.”
Knox stopped spinning his pen. “So, he’s in Washington.”
Boone gave Knox an exasperated look and kept going.
“Seattle’s task force has been working with the FBI on the trafficking organization tied to Cutter for months. They’ve already got eyes on the operation.”
Whip waited for Boone to get to the heart of it.
“They’re asking for the originating case team,” Boone said.
There it was.
Nobody knew Cutter’s habits better than they did.
“They want our case notes, interviews, witness statements, and us,” Boone continued. “We’ll coordinate through the Western District once we arrive.”
“When do we leave?” Axel asked.
Boone didn’t hesitate.
“Today.”
A slow grin spread across Knox’s face. “Seattle.”
“For a few days,” Boone scowled. “Pack enough clothes to look respectable.”
Knox looked down at his T-shirt.
“I thought this was respectable.”
Boone shot Knox a look that had the younger marshal’s throat bobbing.
“It isn’t,” Boone growled.
Beth snorted into her coffee.
Boone closed the file.
“Davis already knows we’re coming. Beth, you’re with us. Flight leaves in two hours. Pack for a few days and head straight to PDX.”
Boone looked at Beth.
“Push the updated case file to your iPads.”
“Already done.”
“Good. Let’s move.”
Whip pushed back from the table. Just another assignment, only this time it meant Seattle. He’d worked enough cases there to remember good coffee, miserable traffic, and deputy marshals who somehow managed to thrive in both.
And, unless Boone planned on working them around the clock…
Maybe Washington had a condom aisle after all.