Pas de Deux

by Jamie Craig

  “You’re really sure you’re all right?” Scott smiled sheepishly. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but…I don’t think my heart has stopped racing.”

  “Do you want to see it for yourself? Would that help?”

  “Yeah, I think it might.”

  Wincing slightly, Duke reached up to untie his hospital gown, letting the blue patterned fabric slip down his arms and expose his upper body. Taped to his right side was a white gauze bandage. He picked at the edge of the tape holding it in place, only to scowl seconds later when it didn’t come free.

  “Can you do this?” he asked. “The morphine’s affecting my coordination.”

  Scott hesitated. Would it be wise to remove the bandage? He didn’t want to put Owen at risk, no matter how minor. On the other hand, he didn’t seem concerned. “Yeah.”

  Holding his breath, he gently peeled the tape from Duke’s skin and pulled the bandage away from the stitches. Scott had seen gunshot wounds before. Usually in large, graphic detail. Pictures of crime scenes always seemed more intense, more real than even real life. The wound on Duke’s side was nothing like that. Yet, somehow, it was worse. Maybe because no matter how small it was, it still marred Duke’s otherwise flawless skin.

  “See?” Duke rested a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It’s just a graze. Nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re right…but I’m still going to worry a little bit.” He replaced the tape, smoothing his finger over it to make sure it was secure. Without thinking about it, he leaned over and kissed the first bare patch of skin he could reach—the edge of Duke’s jaw. “I’ll go argue the attending into submission and get you out of here.”

  “Wait.” The command came with the slide of Duke’s hand, from Scott’s shoulder to the back of his neck. Duke turned his head, burying his nose in Scott’s skin. “God, I’m glad to see you.”

  “How long have you been here?” Scott took a deep breath. Duke’s skin already had the slightly tangy smell Scott always associated with hospitals.

  “Since eleven.” He wasn’t letting go. The drugs might have altered his reaction times, but they hadn’t hindered his strength. “Too long. I hate these places.”

  “Eleven? Jesus. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “Finch took away my phone.” He lifted his head. “Don’t laugh.”

  Scott didn’t laugh, but his lips twitched a little. “How did he manage that?”

  “I was bleeding, and there’s a reason he’s one of the best cadets I’ve trained this term. And that’s all you’re getting from me.”

  “How much pain are you in? Can I show you exactly how grateful I am that it was just a minor flesh wound?”

  Duke’s eyes darkened. “I’ll put it this way. I could’ve done the tape myself.”

  Scott moaned softly and gently pulled away from Duke’s grip. “In that case, I’m going to get you out of here right away. Oh…Finch said you wanted to tell me something?”

  “Get me out of here, and get me home. We’ll talk about it there.”

  “I can live with that plan.”

  He left Duke with one more kiss before slipping out of the room. There was no way he would leave Owen in the hospital room for the night. Scott actually hoped the attending would be stubborn, because he was itching for a fight.

  Chapter 16

  Scott did not get the fight he was hoping for, but that was just as well. It only meant Duke was allowed to get dressed and leave the hated hospital room all the sooner. On the drive back to his place, Scott was tempted to slip into full lawyer mode and grill Duke like he was a hostile witness. He wanted to know every single detail of Duke’s day, starting from when he left Scott’s apartment and ending with the hospital room. Every detail, down to the number of coffees he had. No matter how Scott looked at the events of the day, he could only see one person. One man orchestrating the entire situation. DA Horan.

  He had targeted Scott, and now he had targeted Duke. They were both lucky to be uninjured. Scott, for one, was not going to tolerate living in that sort of danger for another day. If he had been thinking clearly, the phrase assuming facts not in evidence might have occurred to him. But there was nothing clear or logical about his thought processes.

  “You sure you don’t want to go back to your place? You probably need a change of clothes, at least.” Because Scott had no intention of letting the detective out of his sight any time soon.

  Duke’s shot him a small smile. “I think you just want to see what my place is like.”

  “I am a bit curious about your inner sanctum. I can only imagine it’s like the Fortress of Solitude.”

  The smile widened. “Did you just equate me to Superman, or am I still high on the morphine?”

  “The two options aren’t mutually exclusive. You know, I don’t even know where you live.”

  “I have a small townhouse in Daly City. If you want to go there instead, just get on 280. I just hope you’re not disappointed.”

  “Disappointed? Do you think I’m that much of a snob?”

  “No, I think you expect to find something interesting. I’m not. In spite of how interesting the past week has been.”

  “I’ve no doubt I’m going to find the place very interesting.” Every book, every photo, every stick of furniture, every small detail would help fill in the picture Scott was already painting of Duke. He couldn’t even imagine anything more interesting, which was both a little scary, and a little exciting.

  They were only a few blocks from the 280 onramp, and it was late enough that the traffic was mostly clear. Once they were on the freeway, Scott couldn’t help stealing glances of Duke. If he hadn’t known that Duke had just spent several hours in the hospital, he never would have guessed. In the dim light provided by the passing traffic, Duke looked completely normal.

  “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Duke asked quietly. “I know we planned on your place, but I think I want my bed tonight, if that’s not a problem. And I’d like you in it.”

  “I intended to stay with you tonight, even if you didn’t invite me. You’re high enough on morphine, I figured I actually had a shot at overpowering you, if it came to that.”

  The smile returned. He thought he’d seen Duke smile more in the past couple hours than he’d had in the past few days. “Ah, but the morphine will probably make me unpredictable. That makes me dangerous.”

  “I don’t know if that makes a big difference. I already find you pretty unpredictable.”

  Duke snorted. “You’d be the first. I know I’m methodical. It’s part of why I’m so good at my job.”

  “I know why you’re so good at your job, but that doesn’t mean you don’t keep me on my toes. Have you ever…gone this fast with anybody before?”

  “That depends on which part of all this you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t know,” Scott answered honestly. It wasn’t just the sex. He was sure that Duke had indulged himself with a few one-night stands. And it wasn’t just the fact that they had spent the past three nights together. That was hardly any time at all. But Scott felt like there was more between them than a murder case and great sex. His fear wouldn’t have been quite so acute if Owen Duke was nothing more than a good time. “Maybe every part.”

  Duke fell silent at that, and when Scott risked a glance sideways, he noted Duke’s distant gaze focused out his window. The fact that Duke needed to think about his response didn’t surprise him, but neither did it give a hint at how Duke might respond. For Duke, a question worth answering merited more than a few moments consideration.

  Seconds stretched into one minute, and then two. Duke’s soft, “Get off here,” disappointed Scott, but he obeyed, following the quiet directions until he had pulled to a stop in a carport space labeled, “Guest.”

  “I don’t think it’s just a matter of speed,” Duke said, like they hadn’t just had a lapse of nearly seven minutes from the original topic. “You’re the first person I’ve brought back to my p
lace with the full intention of not letting them go again in a decade.”

  Scott smiled. “I think that answered my question.”

  He wanted to help Duke out of the car, but he had the feeling the other man wouldn’t actually appreciate that. He compromised by hurrying around the front of the car to open the passenger door, and he stuck close to Duke’s side, his hand hovering at Duke’s elbow.

  A motion sensor turned on a security light as soon as they stepped onto a narrow sidewalk. It illuminated a carefully trimmed strip of grass, with a set of steep stairs leading up to the front door of the narrow townhouse. Duke climbed them without so much as a wince, though it seemed to Scott that he fumbled with his keys a few seconds longer than necessary.

  The front door opened into a cozy living room, the switch Duke flicked as soon as they entered lighting a squat lamp sitting on a nearby end table. The room was small, but surprisingly softly decorated. The red and blue plaid couch had exposed oak feet and arms, with a plethora of carefully matched pillows, and an oak entertainment center, its doors closed to whatever it might contain, had a parade of framed photographs across its top.

  Duke didn’t stop, walking through the living room for the back of the house. “I haven’t had any coffee since nine this morning. You want some?”

  Scott was still pretty wired from the adrenaline that had been dumped into his veins, but he nodded anyway, following Duke to the kitchen. It was narrow and clean, the countertops empty except for a coffeemaker and a toaster. Still, it was a brightly lit, even sunny room. Scott could easily imagine himself making breakfast in there.

  “Ready to tell me what you learned this morning?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not you promise me that you’re not going to run off when you hear what I have to say.” He finished filling the coffeepot and poured the water into the rear of the machine. “I’m feeling selfish, and if you’re going to want to work on the case afterward, I’m not going to tell you until we wake up tomorrow.”

  Scott took a deep breath. “Since you were the one who got shot at today, I’m going to defer to your wishes. No working the case tonight, I promise.”

  He thought he caught another smile before Duke turned away to the refrigerator. “Horan’s a financial sponsor for the ballet company, and his mother used to dance with them. Before she was killed, Tana was working on a project, organizing all the sponsors and getting new ones. So there is absolutely no way Horan didn’t know her before this case came up.”

  Scott blinked. “Do you think their relationship was strictly business?”

  “I don’t know. The office manager at the company didn’t indicate Tana ever did anything scandal-worthy, and I got the impression, if there was dirt to be had on Tana, she would have dished it.”

  “They could have been seeing each other privately without creating a scandal,” Scott pointed out. Which was true, but didn’t quite help him. If Horan had been involved with her, wouldn’t he be doing everything he could to find the killer, instead of using her dead body to blackmail a young man who had enough problems of his own? Unless, of course, Horan wasn’t interested in finding the murderer because he already knew exactly who the guilty party was. “You plan to talk to him soon?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, no. All I have so far is a distant professional relationship and a severe dislike for the man. If he’s involved, I don’t want to let him know I suspect him yet.”

  “What do you mean, if he’s involved? Of course, he’s involved. He’s visiting Hector on a daily basis. He’s searching for something he thinks Tana had. He’s absolutely involved.”

  Duke finished scooping coffee into the machine and turned it on. “What happened to the promise we weren’t going to work the case if I told you?”

  “I’m not trying to work the case. I’m just…discussing some of the elements of the case.”

  “Which will lead to working it.” With a sigh, Duke leaned against the edge of the counter. “All right. If that’s what you want. Did you find anything new out today?”

  The way Duke leaned against the counter betrayed his exhaustion. Very little sleep the night before, on top of an early morning, a gunshot injury, and an entire day stuck in the hospital. He didn’t need to deal with Scott’s frustration on top of that. And at this point, there was no other way to describe or define Scott’s feelings.

  “No, no. I made you a promise and I do intend to keep it.” He put his hands on either side of Duke, creating a cage with his arms and trapping Duke inside. “I’m sorry.”

  Faint shadows below his eyes lent a weary pallor that wasn’t normally there, but the lines in his forehead disappeared at Scott’s apology. “Is that the best you can do? I did get shot today, you know.”

  “I’m not apt to forget it.” Scott tilted his head and caught Duke’s mouth, kissing him softly. The caress was light, but not weak. He teased Duke’s lips with his tongue, tracing the seam of his mouth, coaxing a stronger and stronger reaction. For a moment, he forgot everything about the day. Even—despite his words—the fact that Duke was injured. The taste of the other man overwhelmed everything else. As did the relief to be tasting Duke at all.

  Duke parted his lips, slipping his tongue into Scott’s mouth. He seemed completely in control, but Scott already knew better than that. He already knew the way Duke trembled just before he gave in to his desire. And there was the lightest tremor in Duke’s fingers where they touched Scott’s arm.

  For several minutes, they contented themselves with slow, careful kisses, even when Duke tightened his grip, his nails digging into Scott’s flesh. When they parted, Duke squeezed his eyes shut and rested his brow against Scott’s shoulder, his ragged breath soaking through Scott’s shirt.

  “Okay, that was much better,” Duke murmured. “But now I’m dizzy. Give me a sec.”

  “If you’re dizzy, we shouldn’t stay standing in here.” Now that Scott was kissing him, he didn’t want to stop. Duke didn’t seem to mind Scott nuzzling against his throat. “We should be stretching out on a bed.”

  “Not before I get some coffee. Otherwise, I think I might pass out as soon as I hit the sheets.”

  “I don’t think I could survive such a blow to my ego,” Scott said, stepping back. The rich smell of the strong brew already filled the room, wrapping around them in a cloud. The familiar sound of coffee percolating was almost comforting. “I can honestly say that nobody’s fallen asleep on me before.”

  “And the way I want it, nobody will tonight, either.” Duke started to twist around to reach for a mug on a tree on the counter, only to stop halfway and wince. He froze, holding his side, as he grimaced against the pain. “Shit. Remind me to move my ass faster out of the line of fire next time, will you? I can do without more of these stitches for a few months.”

  Scott gently took the cup from Duke’s fingers. “Okay, I think that means you’re going to go sit down somewhere comfortable while I get your coffee. And anything else you might need. Are you hungry?”

  As if it heard Scott’s question, Duke’s stomach grumbled. Duke grinned. “I haven’t eaten all day either. But I can make a sandwich. I’m not an invalid.”

  “I’m not saying you are an invalid, but you’re still going to sit down. That’s an order.”

  He knew Duke wanted to argue. It was etched in every line of his body. Maybe he saw something in Scott’s face that meant it would be fruitless, though, because he nodded his head. “I’ll just go watch the news in the living room.” His mouth brushed across Scott’s cheek. “Help yourself to anything you want. What’s mine is yours.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Scott promised, giving Duke the room he needed to walk past.

  Scott had been a little horrified at the thought of Duke only eating a sandwich after the day he had, but an inspection of the fridge proved that a very good sandwich could be constructed. Scott pulled out roast beef, tomatoes, sprouts, gourmet mustard, thinly slic
ed provolone cheese, and mayo. He also found a big loaf of French bread.

  He put together two sandwiches, then rooted around the fridge again until he found enough vegetables to make a salad—not because he wanted one but because he thought the vitamins would be good for Duke’s recovering body. Once he had the meal complete, he poured Duke a fresh cup of coffee, and carried the whole spread into the living room.

  The doors of the entertainment center were open, revealing a widescreen TV currently on and tuned to Channel 7 news. Dan Ashley spoke from his place behind the news desk, but Scott’s gaze jumped immediately to Duke, sitting in the corner of the couch. He’d taken off his shoes and pulled his shirt free from his pants, a couple more buttons undone at the neck. He looked relaxed, more relaxed than Scott had ever seen him before. Scott was suddenly sure few people ever saw him like this.

  Duke turned his head as soon as he walked into the room, smiling when Scott set the tray on the coffee table. “God, that looks good. Completely worth getting shot for.”

  Scott snorted. “Next time you want me to make you dinner, just ask. Getting shot isn’t necessary.”

  Duke grabbed the coffee first, heedless of how hot the mug was. He’d gulped half of it down before Scott managed to sit. The sigh that escaped him was one of pure bliss.

  “Okay, that’s better already. Even better than the morphine.”

  Scott bit into his sandwich, forcing himself to eat it though he wasn’t particularly hungry. He would need to keep his strength up later. He would rather be chewing on Duke, but it wasn’t a hardship to watch Duke enjoy his dinner. Especially since he was there to enjoy his dinner and if that bullet had just been a half-inch over…

  Scott shook his head. He was not going to dwell on that.

  “So?” Duke took a bite of his sandwich and looked at Scott expectantly, as if he should know what Duke was talking about. When Scott didn’t speak, Duke swallowed and added, “About my place. You were the one who was so curious about what you’d find.”