Cask Strength, page 13
Yes, but he couldn’t compromise their cover. And he didn’t know if there really was. “No.”
“Then why not?”
“You have a boyfriend.”
“It’s casual.”
He dropped his hand and turned away. Fuck, he hated that word. Hated the whole concept. And Derrick of all people knew he didn’t do casual. Neither had the old Derrick. He might have been in the closet, but he’d been a one-man guy.
“Look at me, please.”
Jamie turned back, meeting his eyes. “What we had is over. That was a different lifetime for me.”
“Yet here you are, living that life again. Tonight with the boosters, last night at the house, on the court at practice.”
“You were there?”
“I might have watched from the tunnel.”
Jamie bowed his head, and Derrick laid a hand on his neck. “You love the game, Jamie. You always did. Look how easily you slid back into it and into being home. You belong here.” He squeezed and Jamie looked up. “With me.”
Just like everything else—the court, the house, Charlotte in general—being back with Derrick had all the trappings of home without the heart of it.
Because there was no Aidan. “This isn’t—”
“You’re lying to yourself, if you think otherwise.”
He shook off the hold. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Derrick pushed up his sleeves, the forearm tattoo on full display. “I’m not lying anymore.” He reached for him again, and Jamie stood, though not fast enough. Derrick grasped his wrist, holding him in place. “I want what we had back. I want another chance with you.”
“How, when you’re fine with casual?”
“Not if I had you.”
The conviction in those five words caused the merry-go-round to halt and Jamie to waver. Derrick offered a sure thing, a heart for the taking. No more casual, no more waiting for a chance at love. Love offered freely, given completely, and while things with Derrick had deteriorated at the end, it’d been good, comfortable, for most of their relationship. Maybe the blinding need would come later, maybe the spark would reignite. If only Aidan...
A noise from the adjacent bedroom loosened Derrick’s grip, and Jamie took the out. “I have to go.”
Derrick beat him to the door, blocking it with his body. He laid a hand over Jamie’s heart, right over the tattoo, and Jamie gasped, remembering Derrick’s steady presence beside him at the tattoo parlor.
“You decide to stop hiding from what you want, from who you are, I’ll be here.” He leaned forward, lightly brushing their lips together again. “I’ll always be here for another shot with you.”
* * *
The instant Aidan had spotted Derrick’s chestnut curls bobbing through the crowd of partygoers, he’d known things were about to go sideways. Of course he fucking lived here. Leave it to Jamie’s ex to be everywhere they least needed him. And now, the conversation he’d overheard—the scene he’d witnessed—replayed in his head like a horror movie.
He couldn’t decide which was worse.
His glimpse, through the open bathroom doors, of Jamie and Derrick kissing.
Or Derrick’s casual dismissal of his casual boyfriend.
Had casual sounded as awful coming out of his mouth as it did out of Derrick’s? Like he was casually dismissing Jamie every time he went out with Nic, Casey, Scott, or any of the other men he’d dated the past five months. Aidan didn’t mean it the same. With Jamie, he meant the opposite. Keeping things casual wasn’t a matter of disinterest. He wasn’t waiting for someone better to come along. He was interested, more than he should be, and there was no better man out there than Jameson Walker. Keeping things casual was the only way to protect himself against getting too attached, too lost if something happened to Jamie, by choice or otherwise.
But in staying detached, what had he lost?
He couldn’t deny Derrick was right. Jamie had slid right back into his old life. There was a spark in his eye and he was happy on the court, back where he belonged. Aidan had said it himself to anyone who would listen. Jamie behind the computer was a waste of talent. He was a damn fine Cyber agent, but on the court, as a player or coach, he was something else.
That question he’d brushed off earlier with a “Save it for later” required an answer now. Between Aidan’s baggage and the assassin targeting them, who could blame Jamie for choosing his old life with Derrick. After everything he’d put him through, it wasn’t fair for Aidan to change his mind now and decide he wanted more. He didn’t deserve Jamie, plain and simple. If this was the life Jamie wanted, if Derrick was who he wanted, then Aidan had to accept that.
After all, he’d done nothing to keep him. Only casually dismissed him.
Disgusted with himself, Aidan paced the adjacent bedroom, waiting for Jamie and Derrick to exit the study. He needed to sweep the room to make sure his partner didn’t leave anything behind and then he needed to get the hell out. Ethan would be angry he’d bailed on the contract signing, but Aidan couldn’t be Ian anymore tonight and he couldn’t face Jamie. Not when his heart was breaking for the second chance at love he’d driven away. He had to get out before he said or did something he regretted.
To Ethan. To Derrick. To Jamie.
The light flicked on. Fuck. Not fast enough.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet,” his partner said.
“You need to get back downstairs.” He avoided Jamie’s eyes, as he tried to skirt past him. “I’ll clean up. Did you get what we need?”
“All done.” Jamie shot out an arm, blocking the bathroom pathway into the study. “And I already cleaned up.”
“Great, let’s go,” he mumbled, turning for the other door.
Jamie yanked him back around. “You overheard me and Derrick.”
Aidan’s eyes darted up. He must have done a poor job hiding his anger. Jamie, not realizing it was self-directed, responded in kind, his voice low and gravelly like it had been in the hospital room with Nic. “You saw me and Derrick.”
“I’m sorry,” Aidan said. “I was trying to get up here and warn you. It doesn’t matter now. I’m leaving.”
Faster than Aidan could blink, his back hit the wall and Jamie’s body hit his. He pinned him to the wall with his hands around his wrists and a knee between his legs. Aidan struggled against the too-tempting hold. Days without that big body on his and he couldn’t stand the heavenly weight, knowing it was about to be torn away for good. He wasn’t prepared to face the loss he’d wrought.
“Dammit, Aidan, stop.”
“Let me go.”
Jamie pressed closer. “I know what you saw and heard. Let me explain.”
Aidan shook his head. “You don’t have to. I’ve got no claim on you.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
His eyes shot to Jamie’s and the words were out before he caught them. “Don’t fuck him.” He had no right to ask yet he couldn’t stop from making the hopeless, helpless plea. “Don’t fuck him, and don’t let him fuck you.”
“What?” Surprise weakened Jamie’s hold and Aidan snaked an arm free. His hand landed over Jamie’s heart, fingers curling into fabric as if he could touch the ink and life beneath. Jamie grabbed his wrist and slammed it back against the wall. “Hypocritical much?” he said, voice and body vibrating with anger.
“I didn’t...” Aidan swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Since Gabe, it’s only been you. The others... I didn’t.”
Jamie gasped and the tension in his body melted. He crushed Aidan to the wall not with anger but with something else equally hot and strong. His hands trailed down Aidan’s arm, branding and burning, and came to rest around his neck. “Why not?”
Aidan closed his eyes, fighting twin waves of regret and desire. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For ever saying this was casual. This isn’t casual. It never has been.” Aidan opened his eyes, staring into wide blue ones swirling with disbelief and hope. “That’s why, and hearing him say it... I don’t mean it like that. I don’t.”
“Baby.” Jamie’s strangled whisper floated across his lips.
“I don’t mean it at all.”
Hands diving into his hair, Jamie clutched the long strands, angled his face, and crashed their mouths together. Aidan opened to him, opened to everything. He was just as terrified as he’d been in that hospital room last week, but he was more terrified of never having this again. It could still be ripped away at any minute, but it wouldn’t be because of his own cowardice. He’d hold on, as long as he could, as long as Jamie would have him. Aidan let every ounce of need speak for itself, in the way his tongue tangled with Jamie’s, the way his nails scraped over his scalp, the way his erection strained against his zipper. He couldn’t get enough and didn’t think he ever would.
Jamie broke away and Aidan groaned his displeasure, until Jamie dipped and ran his hands under Aidan’s ass, lifting him. Shoulders hitting the wall, Aidan wrapped his legs over Jamie’s hips and rutted their cocks together. The emptiness he’d ignored all these months roared to life with a vengeance. “Jamie, please.”
“Shh, Irish,” he murmured against his lips. “I’ve got you.” He sealed their mouths once more then spun, hauling them off the wall and moving toward the bed. Aidan’s ass had just hit the mattress, his legs spread for a descending Jamie, when Ethan’s voice in the hallway cut through the haze of lust.
“Ian! Jamie!”
Tearing out of his arms, Jamie stood at the end of the bed, glaring at the door like he wanted to commit murder. “Motherfu—”
Aidan scrambled to his feet and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Ian, Whiskey!” Chancellor Polk repeated from right outside the study. “Where are you? We’ve got an emergency!”
Glancing between them, Aidan evaluated their respective “problems.” His was relatively constrained by his jeans, whereas Jamie’s created a tent in his dress slacks. “Go stand in front of the window,” he whispered. “Look tortured.”
“Not gonna be hard.” Aidan smirked at the too-accurate word choice, and Jamie grumbled, “Shut it,” as he got into position, one arm to the window frame, back to the room.
Aidan adjusted himself, ran a hand through his hair, then raised his voice. “In here.”
The breathless AD appeared through door, Chancellor Polk a step behind.
“What’s wrong?” Aidan asked.
“We need an attorney,” Ethan said.
“What for?”
“Blake. He’s been arrested.”
Chapter Thirteen
Frat-boy ballplayer crashes car through fence while high. Some fucking emergency.
Aidan should have known.
And this was what had interrupted him and Jamie. Granted what they’d been doing—what they’d been about to do—at Ethan’s party, in a house full of people, was about as dumb as Blake’s decision to drive high, but after days without Jamie in the way he wanted him most, after admitting to himself and his partner that things between them weren’t casual at all, Aidan had been ready to risk it. And his heart, even as terrified as he was of letting Jamie in and losing him to an assassin’s bullet. Losing him forever terrified Aidan more.
He leaned against the interrogation room wall and tamped down his frustration at the interrupted reunion. He needed to get his other head in this game, and figure out how to play it to their advantage. Jamie had done his job, stopping the kill switch and copying the program. He’d be home by now analyzing data and stuffing print-outs in colored file folders. Now Aidan had to do his—get the damn invite.
The arresting officer, who they’d waited over an hour for, finished his equally long-winded charge and process explanation and went to retrieve Blake, leaving Aidan alone with Ethan in the drab room.
Ethan hadn’t bothered to ask whether Aidan was a criminal law attorney or even open to the representation, but Aidan had married a former athlete and watched enough ESPN to know this sort of thing was in a sports agent’s job description, attorney or not. And if he could use it to gain Blake’s and Ethan’s trust, then by all means, he could play at being a lawyer for Blake as well as he could for Jamie.
“Is Whiskey going to sign the contract?” Ethan asked.
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Back at the house, he looked like he was having second thoughts.”
Second thoughts, yes, but more about murderous impulses and blown covers than his fake contract. “It’s a big decision for him.”
Ethan tilted his head, considering, and Aidan felt uncomfortably like he was being read in more ways than one. “And you were helping him with that? I thought he’d already made his decision.”
Did Ethan suspect something? That he and Jamie were involved? That this was all a cover?
Cover, that’s what he needed to do, and fast.
Aidan pushed off the wall and sat next to Ethan, checking to make sure the speaker to the observation room was off. “Jamie’s my client and my friend. He’s uprooting his life, again. The party tonight may have been too much too soon.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Ethan tapped out a nervous rhythm on the metal table. He wasn’t going to let up without a better explanation.
“There was someone in San Francisco,” Aidan said, going with near-truths.
“But he said at the press conference...”
“It was complicated; it ended badly.”
Ethan stilled. “Did he leave her? The last thing we need is another scandal.”
“He wasn’t given the choice.” Aidan ignored the misnomer. In part to preserve the cover, but mostly because his own mind was hung up on the matter of choice. He hadn’t given Jamie a choice when he’d called things off. Had he given him a choice tonight either?
“Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Daley.” Aidan’s head swung around at the familiar voice.
“Renee, thank God.” Ethan bolted out of his chair with his best smile on. It made Aidan recoil, Paulson too, but Ethan was too keyed up to notice. “Are you going to let Blake out? He didn’t hurt anyone, and his parents will pay for the damage. We need him for the game tomorrow.”
Paulson cringed. Riley had likely told her Press was getting the start. She passed off her flinch as surprise at Ethan’s sudden approach. “Mr. Daley,” she said, looking past Ethan. “I understand you’re Blake Whitehead’s attorney.”
Aidan extended his hand. “Prospective agent. Also an attorney.”
She played it with the perfect amount of disdain, withdrawing her hand and putting it in her pocket as if wiping it off. Aidan stifled a laugh. “Ethan, I’d like a word with Mr. Daley.”
“Shouldn’t he speak with his client first?”
“Ethan,” Aidan said. “It’s fine.”
The AD looked back and forth between them. His decision was made for him when Blake’s uncle, dressed in full uniform, stuck his head in the door and demanded his presence. Paulson shut the door behind them, slapped a folder on the table, and sat with her back to the observation window.
She waited for the raised voices outside to fade before doing that whiplash-fast stoic-to-smiling face morph. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Didn’t expect to be here, but Ethan didn’t give me much choice. And it doesn’t help our case much if Blake’s locked up in here.”
“I know, Jamie called ahead. I convinced Cap to cut Blake loose, not that it took much effort with the Whiteheads throwing their weight around.”
“If your captain’s already agreed...”
“What am I doing in here?” She braced her forearms on the table, tilting forward menacingly, all the while grinning. “I’m in here to make it look like we’re arguing and that you’re the one convincing me to let him go.”
Aidan shifted forward, matching her argumentative posture and keeping his face stern, in case anyone was watching through the glass behind her. “Nice work, Paulson.”
She grinned wider. “More good news.” She pushed the folder across the table to him. “Beau and I searched the old depot. There’s been more activity than the usual stoner kids,” she said as he flipped through pictures. “Especially in the old post office building. A lot of shoe tracks in the dust and a generator and utility light stacked in one corner.”
“Check the land records. See if it was purchased recently. Maybe a new owner is getting ready to renovate?”
Paulson shook her head. “In that part of town, I doubt it, but I’ll check.”
“The usual stoner kids...” He tapped the picture of roaches, empties and other drug paraphernalia. “They could’ve seen something. Did you pick some of these up?”
“Beau took them back to the field office for forensics. I didn’t want to tip off anyone here, and he said the feds could run them faster.”
“Pictures of the shoes too?”
“Shoes too,” Paulson confirmed.
“Good work.” He relaxed back in his seat. “Now, do you think we’ve argued enough that I can break out a victory smile?”
She chuckled. “I think you’re good.”
He smiled as they stood. “We’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
Paulson paused with one hand on the door handle. “Ethan said CU needed Blake for the game tomorrow. Who’s starting, him or Press?”
“Jamie already benched Blake for going after Press. After this stunt, Blake’s ass will be glued there for sure.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” She winked then opened the door for him. “Mr. Daley,” she said, loud enough to draw the attention of Ethan and Blake standing a few feet away. “You’ll see that Mr. Whitehead keeps his nose clean and pays for all damages.”
