Chapter 18
Frode did laundry. He cooked. He cleaned his kitchen. He talked to Captain Scratch. He went through every channel on the TV at least three times. And he sighed a lot.
Fucking hell.
He tore off his gloves and threw them on the coffee table, groaning as the air caressed his fingers.
For about half an hour he sat there and stared blindly as experts talked about tonight's NHL games about to start. Hockey. It was the perfect distraction.
He wanted a beer, but then he'd have to put on his gloves, and he was reluctant to.
A few minutes later, headlights lit up the room through his window. He didn't care if it was Hjalmar or Nikolai. For once, he was glad someone was coming.
It took another minute or two before there was a knock on his door.
"Come in!" Maybe it was stupid to invite an unseen visitor, but he didn't want to put his gloves on.
The door opened and Nikolai scowled at him. "For fuck's sake, Frode. You can't ask people to walk right in."
"I knew it was either you or Hjalmar." He looked away from Nikolai as the rink came into view on the TV. The teams were getting ready for the puck to drop.
"You couldn't know. What if it'd been him?"
Frode raised an eyebrow. Mostly because it was annoying, and the game had started. If Nikolai wanted to stay, he'd better shut up.
"Frode." Nikolai walked into the TV room.
"Shh. I'm watching the game."
Nikolai snarled but walked farther into the room, so he could see the TV. "Oh, hockey." He plunked down on the couch next to Frode.
"There's beer in the fridge."
"Yeah. You want one?"
Frode looked at him, then he held up his hands and waved his fingers.
"Oh." Nikolai's gaze jumped between them and Frode's face. "Is that a no?"
"It's an I'd love one, but I don't know if I can be bothered."
A quick grin then Nikolai relaxed against the backrest. "We got his name."
"Yeah?" Frode looked at the screen and winced as one of the guys was flattened against the rink glass while fighting to get control of the puck.
"Nathaniel Altman."
Frode shook his head. "Never heard of him."
"He's never been in trouble with the law. He's a fucking teacher."
"Family?" God, did he have kids?
"No. Lives alone, no spouse, no children. His father is alive, but they don't appear to be in contact, not frequently at least. The tech guys are finding out everything there is to find out online."
"Good." He glanced at Nikolai, who nodded.
"The plan is to talk to him tomorrow. Hopefully. It would be good if we had something more to ask him about. We don't want to spook him, have him run before we have something we can pin on him."
Frode shuddered. He was glad he wouldn't have to talk to him. "And you can't lock him up now?"
Nikolai shook his head. "Not unless someone finds something we can keep him for."
"Medlin asked me to be careful." He hadn't meant to tell Nikolai. He believed he'd managed to convince himself that the murderer--Nathaniel Altman--didn't have a clue who he was, and Medlin was overreacting.
Nikolai's lips thinned. "You should be."
"But he doesn't know who I am, right?"
Several seconds went by, and Frode was aware Nikolai was studying him, but he kept his gaze on the TV. When he couldn't take it anymore, he looked at Nikolai. "Right?"
"He watched you. Isaac thinks maybe it was attraction. We haven't been able to tell if he's gay, straight, bi, or whatever, but I'm not sure it was attraction."
"Meaning?"
"Nothing. He noticed you noticing him, and he hurried out of the store when you started talking to Ashley. Not straight away, he watched you for a bit, then he headed straight for the checkout. Maybe he'd gotten all he came to get or something about you spooked him."
Ice curled around his spine. "You think he knows who I am?"
"I doubt it, but I'm with Medlin, be careful." Nikolai was quiet for a heartbeat. "Are you listed anywhere?"
"Listed? Sure, I run a business, I own a house, I'm pretty sure I'm in many systems."
"As a psychic. Is there a way for someone to search for psychics in Berg and have your face pop up?"
Frode stared at him. "I haven't consented to anything like that." There was a cold tingle in his limbs. "Saylor."
Nikolai scowled. "What about him?"
"He walked right up to me in the grocery store.
I didn't think much of it since I'd seen him many times, but we'd never been introduced.
Now I've had lunch with him and visited him at his workplace, so we're practically in a relationship, but before the day in the grocery store, I'd never spoken to him. "
Nikolai huffed but didn't look pleased. "I'll have a chat with him tomorrow."
"Fuck, do you think my picture is on some site? If Altman knows what I do and realized I was staring at him in the store, then he'll know I know who he is."
Nikolai pushed up the sleeve of his black Henley and covered Frode's hand with his. He wasn't used to anyone touching his hands and jumped.
"I won't let anything happen to you."
"It's not something you can promise. What if he knows where I live?" Frode hadn't been afraid when Medlin had warned him, but there was no denying the fear taking root in his gut now. What if?
"I'll stay with you."
Frode huffed. "You have a job to do." And he needed to do it. He couldn't be a distraction to Nikolai. "You have to catch him. You can't babysit me. Your focus needs to be on catching him."
Nikolai frowned at him, his hold on Frode's fingers tightening a fraction. "You want me to abandon you and focus on work?"
Rolling his eyes wasn't much of an answer. "It's important. It's more important you catch him than sitting here holding my hand."
A short laugh left Nikolai. "You have no idea how many times I wished Julian had seen it that way."
"I'm not Julian." And maybe if they'd been in a relationship, he'd see it differently. Though, he doubted it. Disappointed not to be able to spend time with his person, sure, but how could an evening on the couch ever be considered more important than to catch a killer?
"Medlin sent us home. There is nothing more to do today. The tech guys are trolling Facebook and online auctions to try to find leads on the rugs. Ads, recent or old, buyers, and so on. We'll talk to the bastard tomorrow, ask about the rug--"
"I should touch another one." Cold sweat sprang from his pores. He didn't want to, but he should.
Nikolai shook his head. "We can work this angle--"
"No. Let's ask Saylor which of the rugs appears to have the least wear and tear, and I'll touch it."
"Frode--"
"No, I want to." He didn't, but he had to.
Silence fell, and Frode focused on the TV.
"I'll stay the night."
"Excuse me?" He turned to stare at Nikolai.
"If you're listed somewhere, if he knows who you are, he knows how easy it'd be to get to you out here." He gestured around. "He's killed in this area once already."
"But I'm a guy. He kills women."
"You want to bet your life on it? Maybe he'd kill you quickly to get rid of you. A shot in the head instead of one of his pleasure kills."
Frode had no words. "Pleasure kills?" Ugh, sick.
Nikolai shrugged. "He gets something out of it, and if him seeing you in the grocery store today made him think he's in danger of being found out, I have no idea how he'll react. Maybe he'd skip his normal ritual and simply shoot you to get rid of you."
Frode looked at the TV and realized he'd missed a goal. Fuck. He wanted to watch hockey and not worry about anything.
* * * *
Nikolai watched Frode out of the corner of his eye. Part of him was sorry he'd stolen his calm, but he preferred a tense and annoyed Frode to a dead one.
Several minutes had gone by when Frode spoke next. "I don't have a guest room."
Had it been anyone else, Nikolai would've said something about sharing his bed, but would him being in Frode's bed trigger him? He didn't want to send him spiraling during the night.
"I can sleep on the couch." It was too short, and he was too old.
Frode gave him an unimpressed look. "Hjalmar has tried. He didn't give it a glowing review."
"I'd love to cuddle with you, sweetheart, but I don't want to have you puking all over me during the night because I accidentally had you touch something."
There was an amused tug at the corner of Frode's mouth. "The rule for being in my bed is to not bring anything I can accidentally touch. It's a rule I follow myself too."
Meaning? Nikolai nodded. "Okay, sure. If you're fine with having me there, I'd love to share your bed."
For a moment, Frode looked like he would say no, then he shrugged. "Fine."
"And you'll come with me in the morning to talk to Saylor and then to the station." Now, when he'd put words on how easy it would be for Altman to shoot Frode, he didn't want him out of sight. Medlin would most likely not be pleased, but Nikolai didn't care.
Frode made an affirmative noise, relaxed against the backrest, and watched the game. Nikolai removed his hand from his and wanted to pull him close like they'd been the night before, but with Frode not wearing his gloves, he was afraid to do something to accidentally trigger him.
When Frode had yawned three times in short succession, Nikolai bumped him with his shoulder. "Maybe it's time to go to bed."
"I want to see the end."
There were thirteen minutes left of the third period, so Nikolai settled back and watched. When the signal sounded and the players lined up to thank their opponents, Nikolai nudged Frode. "Bedtime."
He nodded and got up. Then he slid his fingers into his gloves and used his teeth to slide them on before heading toward the bathroom. "I'll dig out a toothbrush for you."
Nikolai remained on the couch and watched the experts talk about the highlights of the night while listening to the water running in the bathroom.
He was going to share a bed with Frode Bakke.
Teenage him would've been jittery with excitement, but while he wanted nothing more than to hold Frode all night long, there was dread in the pit of his stomach.
What if he hurt him? What if there was something he hadn't considered that would send him spiraling?
How would he explain to Hjalmar he hadn't meant to put his brother in a coma, but he'd accidentally made Frode touch something?
Cold filled his soul. No wonder Hjalmar had been furious with him when he'd made Frode touch the rug, and now he wanted to touch another one.
Fuck.
"I put a toothbrush on the sink." Frode stretched and yawned, then he went to lock the front door. Nikolai got up, groaned when his back popped, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
When he exited, the house was dark apart from a soft glow coming from the bedroom. His pulse picked up as he made his way there.
Frode was in bed, his hair tied back in a braid. The sight made Nikolai still. He'd never seen him with braided hair. The duvet was pulled up to cover his chest, bare arms resting on top, hands glove-free.
"Strip."
"What?" Nikolai looked into Frode's eyes.
"Strip."
"Right." Nikolai had never been shy or self-conscious, but he felt exposed now. This wasn't tearing your clothes off to tumble into bed with someone; this was Frode watching his every move.
He started with his gun, which he put on the bedside table. His phone followed. He placed it next to the gun, both within easy reach of the bed. Frode watched the gun for a second but didn't comment. Nikolai was pretty sure Hjalmar was armed most of the time, so he was used to weapons being around.
When he didn't move, Frode raised an eyebrow at him.
Nikolai held in a sigh and tore his shirt over his head. "Where can I put it?"
Frode made a noncommittal sound. "There is no contamination between items, so wherever is fine." Then he waved toward a chair in the corner where the jeans Frode had worn before were slung over the backrest.
Nikolai went over to it, folded his shirt, and put it on the seat. He'd need to swing by his apartment before work tomorrow to get clean clothes. Then he undid his jeans, pushed them off, and removed his socks without looking at Frode.
When he turned toward the bed, Frode slid his gaze over him. "Underwear."
"What?" He looked down at his black boxer briefs; glad he'd picked a flattering pair today.
"Remove them."
"What?" This time his tone was a little shriller than he wanted it to be.
"You don't have any piercings, right?"
Nikolai looked down at himself despite knowing he didn't have any piercings. "No."
"No watch, rings, necklaces, earrings, hair ties."
Nikolai scowled at him and held his arms out as if he was in a security check at an airport. "No. You have a hair tie, though."
"I know, but no one's touched it but me, so it's fine." Frode held his gaze for a second or two. "Underwear, Nesterova. Drop 'em."
Nikolai huffed but tucked his thumbs under the waistband and pulled them off.
"Nice." Frode sounded amused.
"Fuck you."
"Nah, I think I'm too tired tonight." He finished the sentence with a yawn, and Nikolai stared at him. Heat curled around him, and he resisted the urge to cover his dick when it twitched.
"Come to bed." Frode moved closer to the wall and held the covers up for him. Nikolai hurried over to the bed and slipped in.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
"Is there anything on you?"
Nikolai shook his head. Nope, he was as naked as the day he'd been born.
"Then it's safe. There is nothing on you, and there is nothing on me."
Heat washed over him, and he wanted to run his hands over Frode, feel his naked skin. "What about the bedding."
"Mmm. You're touching it now. It won't register until you stop touching it."
"And no one else has touched it?"
"Nope. Machine-made, machine-folded, and packed." He burrowed down and closed his eyes.
"But after I've left the bed, you'll get triggered by it."
"Let's worry tomorrow. Touching something only one person has touched isn't too bad.
I've had bed partners before. I lived with Chance, remember?
" He spoke with his eyes shut, and Nikolai allowed himself to study his face.
He didn't want to think about any of Frode's previous partners when he was in bed with him, but he didn't want to accidentally do anything, so he listened.
"Should I turn off the light, or do you want to do it? I touched the light switch in the bathroom."
Frode pushed up and leaned over Nikolai, his chest brushing against Nikolai's as he reached for the bedside table lamp. Without thinking, Nikolai ran a hand up his back. Soft, warm skin.
Darkness filled the room, and Frode slid back, but Nikolai's arm was around him, and since he wasn't snarling at him to let go, he guided Frode to rest against him. Fuck yeah. He hadn't had skin-to-skin contact with anyone for months.
A contented sigh left him, and he moved his hand up and down Frode's spine in a lazy caress.
* * * *