Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN_
DECAF
It’s all the drugs I’m on. Obviously. How is my body supposed to know it’s not allowed to enjoy being that close to Haz? It’s so doped up and still recovering from so much trauma, it isn’t aware of how inappropriate it is to react to him that way.
After all the blood loss, the last thing my body needs is for all the remaining blood to flow south.
Which is why I’m thankful that before Haz can come back in here to wipe down the remaining shaving cream off my face, Trav, Scout, and Iris walk in carrying a large duffel bag each.
I frown. “Scout, I thought you already left for the safe house?”
“Nah, I’ve been with Zeus, helping him with Callie and the kids. I’ll be heading out when the rest of you do.”
Haz reappears from the bathroom but stops in his tracks when he sees we have company.
Where I’m expecting him to throw the washcloth at me or make a snide remark—gloat about me getting hard over him even if I can’t be sure he noticed—he casually walks over to me and wipes my face like he said he would.
It’s not weird. Not weird at all.
Even if it makes Trav’s eyes bulge out of his head, Saint’s brow furrow in confusion, and Iris take out his phone and snap a pic with a wide smile on his face.
Trav turns to Iris. “How long has it been since we were last here, and how did that happen.” He points to us.
“Calm down,” Haz says. “He was getting scruffy and wanted it gone, so I shaved him. It’s not a big deal.”
“I think the fact you didn’t slit his throat at the same time is a bigger deal,” Iris mumbles.
Haz grins. “It was a trust exercise. Apparently, he finally trusts me not to kill him.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “I was contemplating getting a priest in to read me my last rites while you were doing it.”
“And all is right with the world again,” Trav says. “What do you say?” He taps the end of my hospital bed. “You ready to get out of here?”
“I don’t know. Am I well enough to leave? I can’t walk far, I still need to keep my arm up, so I don’t know how I’m going to handle a flight across the Atlantic.”
“We’re not taking you to the island yet. Just moving you to a more secure location.”
My heart rate spikes. “Have they found us? Do they know I’m here?”
“No,” Trav says. “This was always the plan, and we did tell you, but you had also just woken up from a coma, so I suppose I’ll let your forgetfulness slide.” His lips curve upward.
“Where are we going, and once we’re there, you’re all moving on without me, right? I can meet you all in Montenegro—”
Haz shakes his head. “Nope. You’re stuck with us.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re all staying. Wouldn’t it be better to split up? We’re sitting ducks with so many of us hanging around.”
“I actually think the opposite,” Trav says. “The more of us that are still around, the less the government thinks we know something’s up.”
“They blew up my car, and they think we’re dumb enough to not realize what’s going on?”
Iris scoffs. “You know the government sees us contractors as hired muscle with shit for brains.”
That’s true. Unfortunately. Always underestimating any intelligence agency that isn’t their own.
“What we’re doing at the moment works,” Trav says. “If one or two of us lose our tail for a day or two, they’re not quick to assume we’re all making our escape because the rest of us are still here. If we were all to disappear at once, they’ll know we’ve been tipped off.”
I grunt. “Again, I’m almost certain they’d realize the car bomb was a huge tip-off.”
Trav shrugs. “Anyone could’ve been behind that. We have a lot of enemies on both sides. Hell, after we took out Pierre in Vegas, his crime family want us dead too.”
I’m starting to wonder. Are we … the bad guys?
I shake that thought free because I don’t want to open that can of worms anytime soon. Or ever. “All the more reason for you all to go. I … I can’t be responsible for anyone else’s death.”
Haz raises his hand and asks Trav, “Permission to slap the bullshit out of him?”
“You need to listen to me most of all,” I growl.
“Permission to slap him hard?”
I know Haz is not referring to how hard I was ten minutes ago while he was practically in my lap, but my brain goes there, and I wince.
“I’m not actually going to do it,” Haz says. “I want to, but it’s lucky for you that you’re still injured.”
“Yeah. I feel lucky,” I deadpan. “Getting to be the reason you’re all stuck here and not somewhere safe. Being the reason for any and all of your possible future injuries or death.”
Trav folds his arms across his impressive chest. “That’s dark. Are they giving you enough coffee?”
“Of course they aren’t,” Iris says. “He’s probably already drained them of their entire coffee supply.”
I want to scream at them that this has nothing to do with coffee, and not everything I’m passionate about revolves around the single character trait they seem to think I have.
I don’t bother, though. My argument will be null and void when my caffeine withdrawal symptoms are prevalent.
Or maybe the headaches and body shakes are from my injuries.
It’s not like I’m not getting coffee here, but it’s instant with little to no actual caffeine in it.
“When are you breaking me out of here so I can get real coffee and prove to you right after when I say the exact same thing?”
“I’ll go pay up and get all your discharge paperwork.” Trav turns on his heel.
I’m assuming he’s paying cash because if we use our health insurance or he puts it on a card, they’ll be able to trace us. I want to double-check, but even I know that’s going overboard. Trav knows what he’s doing.
“Do you need me to get you anything before we go?” Haz asks. “Need help getting dressed?”
That’s the last thing I need. From him, anyway.
“You helped me shave. Scout can endure getting me dressed.”
“Lucky … me?” Scout says.
“You’re the medical professional, Doc.” And someone I’ve never, ever gotten hard over. But maybe if he’s dressing me, my body will react the same way it did with Haz, and then I really can put it down to all the meds for inappropriate hard-ons.
I don’t need Haz to watch me relive my embarrassment, though, or have him clue in if he isn’t already clued in to when my dick was trying to escape my gown. “Could you go get me a bottle of water from the cafeteria?”
Haz lifts the jug of water the nurses left on my side table. “This not good enough?”
“No. I want a bottle for the road.”
“All right.” He leaves the room.
“What, the kid can’t see you undressed?” Scout snarks. “I’ve never known you to be shy.”
“It’s not that.” It’s definitely that. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I pull myself out of bed, slowly, and wait for Scout to get my clothes out of the bag that’s been left untouched for the last week.
The hospital gown is easier to work around my stitches and going to the bathroom when I only have full use of one hand, so I haven’t bothered changing into the clothes the guys brought from home.
Scout grabs some boxers for me and bends down, holding them open for me to step into.
If any of this is going to be a test on my theory, this is it. Where Scout pulls the thin material up my legs, over my cock, and snaps the waistband on my hip when he lets go.
Another man is touching me. An age-appropriate, good-looking man. But my body doesn’t react the same way it reacted to Haz.
That doesn’t mean anything, though. Before could have been a fluke. Like I keep telling myself, maybe it was the meds.
But I want to be sure. So when Scout does the same thing with my sweatpants, I close my eyes and try to get it up. Never thought I’d ever willingly try to get hard for a teammate, but here I am.
Scout’s hands are soft, but … nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Come on, Decaf. “Get hard, get hard, get hard …” I think. In my head. But apparently—
“Are you seriously trying to get hard?” Scout laughs. “Uh, why?”
I grit my teeth in frustration. “Can I ask a medical question? With the meds that I’m on. Would that … I mean, could that impact, you know, the little guy?”
“I’ve seen you. You’re anything but little. But in terms of your question. Definitely.”
Thank fuck. I let out a breath of relief.
“You’re on so many painkillers, it’s no surprise you can’t get it up. You probably can’t even feel anything.”
My gut drops. “Uh, no. I, uh, mean … the other way around.”
Scout secures my sweatpants and reaches for my T-shirt next. “I’m confused.”
Yeah. So am I.
“Just say someone or … no, something … an event got me hard. Inappropriately and without intention or like wanting it to happen. Could the meds …” I trail off when Scout smiles.
“You got hard over your godson?” He laughs.
“Okay, fuck off. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yes, you should have, because you know I have great advice. If you’re getting hard over Haz, instead of blaming the meds for it, maybe you should ask yourself why it would be so wrong to be attracted to him.”
“Why would it be so wrong? He’s twenty years younger than me, up until a week ago, he hated me, and the biggest reason of all: I killed his father. Who was my best friend.”
Scout sighs. “You didn’t kill his father.”
“I might as well have.”
“Stop.” Scout’s commanding tone isn’t something I’m used to from him.
“It’s obvious Haz is here to get to know you and learn more about his dad, but there’s no way you’re going to be able to give him what he wants until you let all your guilt go.
You failed to save your friend, but you saved Haz. Your debt is paid.”
It’s not that easy, and I’m not sure it ever will be. My debt is far from paid, and if Jesse knew how I’ve treated his son … he would hate me. He’d hate me even more if I so much as looked at Haz in a sexual way.
I can’t go there. I can’t see him in that light. I refuse to.
It was a one-off, and as soon as we’re out of here and in the new facility or safe house or wherever Trav’s taking me to recover, I can get some space from him.
If Haz isn’t physically near me, it can’t happen again. My logic might be painkiller induced, but it’s still sound.