Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Gary didn’t tell him he was crazy. He didn’t laugh. In fact, all he did was look at Dan with a thoughtful expression.
“Now tell me how you arrived at this conclusion—which I’m not dismissing, by the way, but I want to hear your reasoning.”
Dan took a deep breath. “The only thing tying Eddie to the shooting is the CCTV footage, his clothing, and being found at the wheel.”
“What about what you just said about someone approaching him to break into Wilmer’s house? Doesn’t that tie him to the shooting too? Especially since the mystery guy mentioned the job was in Belmont.”
“Sure it does—if he actually went there. That guy in the bar didn’t mention overhearing them arranging to meet at Wilmer’s house, did he?
How do we know where they arranged to meet?
And let’s take a step back here. Eddie is ‘employed’ to break into a house to steal a set of car keys, right? A car that’s in the driveway.”
Gary smiled. “But there was no car in the footage, not when they arrived.”
Dan matched his smile. “Exactly. So they go into the house to steal a set of keys—for a car that isn’t even there?
Did you see either of those guys show any reaction whatsoever to the total absence of a car?
Not that their faces were all that clear.
” He paused. “Is there any way we can analyze the CCTV footage? Maybe clean it up a bit?”
“Not tonight—it’s too late—but we’ll tackle it first thing tomorrow morning.” Gary chuckled. “And let’s see if we can do it without Travers getting wind of it.”
“Do you still feel there’s a connection with Leo’s murder?”
“Put it this way. Two men running around in Boston, both using frangible 9mm ammo, both committing execution-style shootings?”
“When you put it like that, even Travers would have to admit there’s a link.” Dan stifled a yawn. “I’m sorry. For some reason I feel suddenly tired.”
“I’m not surprised. Think about the day you’ve had. We spoke with Leo’s friends, met Tyler Benedict, looked into Leo’s banking, got a lecture on frangible bullets from Del, examined the car, interviewed Pat—”
“Okay, okay, we’ve been busy.” Dan peered at him. “Are your days usually like this?” He didn’t recall their investigations into Cheryl Somers’s death being so tiring.
“Pretty much. Now, how about I take you home and—”
“We get takeout,” Dan interjected.
“You don’t want me to cook?”
“Hey, don’t put words into my mouth. I was going to say we get takeout, which gives us more time… later.”
Gary’s eyes sparkled. “Later sounds interesting.” Then he grinned. “But you’re too tired.”
Dan gave him a mock glare. “The day I’m too tired to ride you like a stallion is the day I hang up my spurs, my leather chaps, and die.”
Gary stared at him in silence for a moment. “You have chaps?” he croaked.
“No, I don’t.” Dan bit his lip. “But judging by your expression, maybe I need to invest in some.” He stroked a single finger up Gary’s thigh, pausing before it reached his obvious erection. “And I think we should take turns being the stallion.”
Dinner might have to wait.
Gary sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding, his chest damp with sweat.
Fuck, it felt so real.
He brushed his hair back from his face and was dismayed to encounter tears on his cheeks. He’d thought his sobbing was part of the nightmare.
Apparently not.
“Hey.” Dan’s hand was warm on his back. “You okay?”
“Bad dream.”
Except it hadn’t been bad—it had been horrific.
“Come here.”
Gary lay down, and Dan enveloped him in his arms, Gary’s face against his chest. Then Dan stilled.
“You’ve been crying.”
A second later, warm light flooded the room as Dan snapped on the bedside lamp. He raised Gary’s chin with his fingers so their gazes met.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Fuck no.
Only Gary knew Dan wouldn’t accept that.
Dan stroked his cheek. “Was it about Brad?”
What the hell can I tell him? No, I’m used to nightmares about Brad. This was a whole new and improved nightmare—about you.
Gary knew it had been nothing but a dream—a senseless, irrational dream at that—but such knowledge didn’t diminish the pain that had ricocheted through him the moment he’d watched strong, unknown hands reach into Dan’s chest to remove his heart, the blood redder than any Gary had ever seen.
The moment he’d stared into Dan’s lifeless eyes.
Have I put him in danger by pursuing Brad’s killer?
Have I painted a target on his back?
Maybe it was the memory of Ludlow coming so close—too fucking close—to murdering Dan like he’d murdered all his other victims that had prompted Gary’s subconscious to create such a barbaric scenario.
“Yeah, it was about Brad,” he lied.
Dan leaned in and pressed his lips to Gary’s brow. “Sweetheart,” he murmured.
Gary didn’t want to talk anymore. He wanted to push the fragments of the dream from his mind, to lose himself in Dan’s arms, Dan’s kisses.
“Please,” he whispered, praying Dan’s instinct would be to let it go.
How do I tell you I need you without saying the words?
Dan rolled on top of him, and Gary relished the sensation of being pinned to the mattress. Their lips met, and Gary opened for him, wanted him deeper, so deep that he lost sight of where he ended and Dan began. He cupped Dan’s nape, holding him close.
And just like that, heat surged through him, and he moaned into the kiss.
Dan rocked his body against Gary’s, a gentle motion that gained momentum until both of them were writhing, unable to keep still.
Dan kissed a path down Gary’s neck, dipping his tongue briefly into the hollow at the base of his throat before moving lower, giving his nipple a teasing lick on his way south to where Gary’s cock lay hard against his belly.
Another flick of Dan’s tongue over the head sent paroxysms of shudders surging through him, and Gary spread for him, reached for Dan’s shaft even as Dan reached for the lube that lived permanently on the nightstand.
Cool, slick fingers penetrated Gary, and his body danced on them, bore down on them, impatient to be entered, stretched, filled.
Taken.
And then they were there, connected, locked together, Gary’s knees at his chest, his hands on Dan’s head, their lips fused into kiss after kiss as Dan speared into him. It was nothing like the tender, unhurried coupling of a few hours before.
This was white-hot, a demanding, heart-hammering, sweat-inducing fuck, and it was glorious.
Each thrust drove the nightmare further and further away; each cry dimmed the memory of Gary’s sobs as they moved in sinuous harmony.
Gary caged Dan’s body with his thighs, digging his heels into the swell of Dan’s ass, urging him deeper, deeper, until finally he felt that familiar throb inside him, and Dan buried his face in Gary’s neck, his breaths harsh and staccato.
“Oh fuck,” Dan said weakly.
Gary held him tight, his heart thumping, his own climax nowhere in sight. But he knew Dan would change that before too long. Then Dan kissed him, and it was sweet and right and absolutely perfect.
“I love you,” Gary murmured against Dan’s lips.
“Love you too.”
In that fragile bubble of time, Gary made a vow.
I will keep you safe.
I won’t let harm come to you.
One near-death experience had been one too many.