Jon's Downright Ridiculous Shooting Case

by A J Sherwood

  “Your anchoring with Donovan,” she responded with a gesture toward Jim’s office, slightly exasperated. “I realize the shooting thing is your priority but—Jon? What? You look like a ghost just walked over your grave.”

  I felt like one had. What had she just said? I repeated the words mechanically, like one of those math word problems, hoping they’d make sense if I spoke them out loud. “I anchored with Donovan.”

  “Yeeees?” She drawled out the word, expression perplexed. “What, you didn’t know?”

  Fumbling behind me, I grabbed a chair and dropped into it, my knees giving out halfway down so that I landed wrong and nearly sent myself to the floor. Carol had to catch my side before I did so, grunting as my shoulder slammed into her lungs. I barely noticed any of it, lost in a whirlwind of my own thoughts.

  I was anchored?

  To DONOVAN?

  What. The. Hell.

  I hadn’t done that. I hadn’t tried to do that. I wasn’t even planning to do that anytime soon. It was way too soon to even think about. Hell, just dating the man scared me sometimes, as I was terrified of screwing the whole thing up. How could any part of my brain think this was a good idea?!

  “Jon, breathe,” Carol instructed soothingly, a hand rubbing circles on my back. “Put your head between your knees and breathe. Deep breaths.”

  Other shoes came into my line of view but I didn’t really see them.

  “Is he having a panic attack?” Marcy demanded in alarm. “Should I call—”

  “Call no one,” Carol commanded firmly, her hand not pausing on my back. “I’ve got this. It’s alright, go, I’ve got this.”

  People retreated again but I couldn’t feel glad, mad, or any other emotion about it. Panic overrode every other thought, swirling through my head like a maelstrom, blocking out all rational thought. How had this happened? How?! I’d not done anything. Had I done something? I hadn’t initiated any sort of bond, I hadn’t tried, haven’t even considered it, so how the hell had this happened? The questions only sparked more questions, my panic ramping up until I felt suffocated, unable to breathe. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes and I focused on breathing before I passed out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. Donovan would not handle it well if I passed out.

  Shit. Donovan. How was I supposed to tell Donovan any of this?

  Carol got an arm around me and pulled me up with her, frog-marching me toward the meditation room, ushering me in so quickly that no one dared argue with her. She got the door shut with a kick of her foot then plopped me on the bed, taking both of my hands in hers as she knelt in front of me.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I blurted out, panicking all over again. I had to figure this out. I had to understand what had happened, had to explain to her that I hadn’t…hadn’t done something so irresponsible and impulsive. I read no condemnation in her eyes, but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “I didn’t even think about doing it. We just started dating, it’s way too soon for me to even think about it, how the hell—”

  “Shh, breathe,” she commanded, voice soothing. “Focus on breathing. I believe you didn’t intentionally do this. I don’t understand why you’re panicking about it, though. Jon? You like Donovan.”

  Very much. I couldn’t get the words past a constricted throat and nodded vigorously instead.

  “He likes you. He adores you. Everyone can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he reacts when you’re in the room. I don’t think he’ll take this news badly. So why are you so terrified?”

  “Because he won’t be able to leave!” I burst off the bed, pacing the small room back and forth, feeling like I’d fly apart any second. Wrapping both arms tightly around my chest didn’t help any but I kept them there anyway.

  Carol slowly stood, watching me as cautiously as a person would a feral animal. “I’m not following. Does he want to?”

  “Everyone leaves,” I nearly snarled the words, covering the void I felt with anger, because I vastly preferred the anger. “Everyone. Even my own parents couldn’t handle me. Am I supposed to believe that Donovan’s the exception? I know he has the patience of a saint but he’s still a man. Still human. I’ll wear his patience out eventually and then where will we both be?”

  “I don’t believe that will happen.”

  That statement, so confidently stated, stopped me dead in my tracks. My head turned in creaking degrees so I could look at her. She met my eyes steadily, not flinching, which on some level impressed me. My aura must’ve been sparking wildly at the moment—any psychic worth their license would take one look at me and call for backup, and here she’d closed us off in a room alone. “What?”

  “Two things.” Carol lifted two fingers in the air, then closed her middle finger down. “First: have any of those people who left you measured up to Donovan in terms of patience?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it slowly.

  “Think about it,” Carol insisted, nearly demanding. “I know those people love you, sometimes deeply, but do any of them have the same amount of patience?”

  No. Not one of them did. Natalie would be the closest to Donovan but even her patience stemmed mostly from her excellent stress coping techniques.

  Carol read that answer on my face and nodded, satisfied, ticking off her second point. “And have you considered what it means? You’re adamant that you didn’t try to establish an anchor connection with Donovan. I believe you, with the way you’re reacting; you have too many fears to make this your doing. So if you didn’t establish him as an anchor, then who did?”

  Donovan.

  It could only have been Donovan. My psychic ability might look at him like a potential candidate but it wouldn’t have been able to force a connection on its own. Not unless Donovan reached out for me. Reached out strongly for me, no less, because he didn’t have a psychic tendril in his entire body and wouldn’t be able to do anything from his end. He’d have to be reaching very strongly on an emotional level for my subconscious to form a connection with him.

  Holy shit.

  The realization doubled me over and I had to put both hands against my knees to keep myself upright. I stayed there, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of my lungs.

  “It had to be Donovan who initiated,” Carol stated softly. She approached cautiously, a hand lightly touching my shoulder.

  “I don’t understand this at all,” I rasped back, staying hunched over. I couldn’t face her yet. The floor didn’t demand answers of me, I found it far easier to stare at it. “Why? Why would he even try? It’s not like he can read me the way I can read him, what could possibly give him enough faith that we’d work?”

  Carol’s touched firmed. “I think that’s a question only he can answer.”

  Speaking of the devil, I could hear him through the door as his voice rose in question, and when he didn’t get an answer he liked, he got louder. In three seconds flat he burst through the door, beelining straight for me. He caught my shoulders, trying to pull me up, but I couldn’t look at him just yet. I huddled against his chest instead, hands double-fisting in his shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded, the words rumbling out of his chest, promising pain to whatever had scared me.

  My mouth worked but I kept choking on the words. I literally couldn’t force them out into the air.

  Carol, bless her, spoke for me. “Donovan. You’re his anchor.”

  If I hadn’t been this close, I wouldn’t have felt it. He went very still, taut, not even breathing for a full second. Then he burst out, “Am I really? You’re sure?”

  He sounded…happy. No, overjoyed. I knew Carol and I both had come to the conclusion that Donovan must have wanted this, but until that moment it had been theory. The way he asked confirmed it solidly.

  “Yes,” Carol affirmed slowly. “We’re sure.”

  Donovan picked up on the tension and switched from happy back to worried faster than a flapjack could be flipped
. “This is a bad thing?”

  “Normally we’d be throwing a party,” Carol admitted, her tone pointed. I had no doubt she was signaling things to Donovan but I couldn’t bring myself to look. “Jon seems to think he’s somehow forced you into this.”

  “Of course he does.” Donovan sighed. Gentling his tone, he tried again to lift my head, his palm cradling my cheek. “Babe. Please look at me.”

  I didn’t want to. I really, truly didn’t want to. But I’d promised that I’d do my best to communicate with him, and I couldn’t do that while running away. I forced my eyes up to his in stages, half-wincing as I did it. “Donovan, you don’t understand—”

  “Yeah, I kinda think I do,” he interrupted, an edge of steel entering his tone. “You’ve been preparing me since day one that I can walk away from you at any time. It’s why you were so angry with your parents about them suggesting me as an anchor. You’re half-convinced I’m going to leave at some point.”

  Damn the man for so squarely hitting the nail on the head.

  “No denial on that huh. Babe, what do I have to tell you to get this through your head? I’m not leaving you.”

  I tore myself out of his arms because it hurt too much to stay in them. I saw Carol slip through the door out of the corner of my eye, discreetly shutting it behind her, but I paid it no heed.

  “You’re wacked,” I informed him bluntly, angry and scared to the point that I felt like throwing up. Bile kept rising in the back of my throat and I had to swallow hard, three times, to keep my stomach in place. Donovan watched me with no expression on his face, like a predator would prey. Which just pissed me off even more. “You’re seriously insane. We’ve known each other barely three weeks, we’ve scarcely been dating three days, and you’re perfectly fine with being my anchor? Donovan, even if—when—you want to call us quits, you can’t. You fucking can’t because I’m psychically linked to you. Why the hell are you okay with this?! You, what, have perfect faith in your judgement?!”

  “No,” he denied calmly. Oh, the calmness was irritating as all fuck. I wanted to strangle him for it. “I have faith in yours.”

  That brought me up short. I stared at him with wide eyes, not sure if I’d heard him right. “In mine?”

  “You read people like they’re an open book. You knew everything about me in the first five minutes we met. You took me on as a partner and, when the chance came, you literally leapt at the chance to have me as a lover. You trust me with you, Jonathan Bane, all of you. Heart, soul, body. You wouldn’t do that if you had any doubts about me.”

  I stared at him, completely speechless. I didn’t know how to feel, how to respond to him. I felt illogically relieved that he didn’t somehow blame me for this bungle, but mixed in that was a complicated cocktail of nerves, old fears, and bright hopes. He was right. I had no doubts about him whatsoever. I just harbored the irrational fear that he would look at me at some point and see a mistake. Everyone else had.

  He dared to reach out again, gathering me into him, this time ducking his head to hover just above mine. His words brushed my mouth like a kiss, hot and smooth. “I love you. I don’t want to ever leave you.”

  My entire body quaked under that declaration because it was more than just words. I could see it. Every ounce of it. The emotion ran so strongly through his meridian lines that every speck of him shone antique gold under its force, brilliant and stunning. The beauty of it brought tears to my eyes.

  “You can see that,” he whispered, more than a little smugly. “Good. Then you won’t doubt me.”

  Dragging him in that last inch, I hauled him into an impassioned kiss, taking his mouth forcefully. He kissed me back just as ferociously, teeth nipping at my lower lip before he plunged his tongue in and tangled it roughly with mine. It was only my hands on his neck that kept me upright. Damn, the man could kiss.

  I felt it in the way he touched me, the way he cradled me against him. More than love, he trusted me and harbored no uncertainties regarding us. It siphoned off my fear. It wasn’t possible to hold on to fear and faith at the same time. I had no faith in myself, per se, but I had to trust that he wanted me. Everything I saw shouted it.

  Only when I relaxed into him did he relent. He drew back, panting for breath, my own lungs drawing in air harshly. When I had enough breath to speak, I tried teasing, “You’re not going to be happy until I’m completely dependent on you and you’re indispensable to me.”

  “You’re just now figuring this out?” he deadpanned back.

  Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding.

  That spark of joy came back into his eyes. “Am I really your anchor?”

  “You really are, and you needn’t be so smug about it.”

  “I wanted to talk you into it,” he admitted, beaming at me. “I figured, maybe after six months or so of dating, you’d be willing to hear me out. Never thought it would happen this fast. Why did it?”

  “Working theory?” I replied with a sigh. “Because you very strongly wished for it and my subconscious recognized you as the perfect candidate and overrode my insecurities. Donovan, I want our agreement to still stand. Yes, you’re my anchor, but if at any point you need a break, take one.”

  He gave me that look that meant he plotted murder and mayhem on some level. “Will you ever tell me just who hurt you so badly?”

  “No. I’d like for those people to continue living.” I felt so off keel, as if I stood on shifting sand. I loved being secure with him, but going through a rollercoaster of emotions in three days had knocked my equilibrium for a tailspin. “Donovan…I want to go home.”

  His golden-brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You mean your place. Babe—”

  “Yours probably isn’t that much safer,” I pointed out truthfully. “My vehicle is too distinctive, it’s easy to follow. Anyone trying to find me would have figured out where I’m staying by now. No one is going to be able to see inside anyway with all of the boards over the windows, and the police protection will still be outside. Please? I just need…” I broke off, not sure how to explain it. Normalcy. I needed normal.

  Growling, his shoulders sagged. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out. Alright. You’ve been through too much this week, I grant you that. But I’m staying with you.”

  That growl hit me right in the dick. It made me wonder if he’d make a similar sound while coming. I blamed my high-strung emotions for what came out of my mouth next: “Just with me? Not in me, or on top of me, or under me—just with me?”

  His pupils dilated, mouth parting. “You are such a fucking tease.”

  “Oh, trust me, Havili,” I purred at him, stretching up and into him in a feline arch that brushed our fronts together, “I’m not teasing. I want this crazy tangle of emotions in me to go away. I figure doing you will manage that.”

  Donovan took my mouth in another hard kiss, tongue gliding over mine for a brief second before he pulled back, leaving me desperate for more. In a near whine, he complained, “I was trying really hard to leave you alone this week.”

  “I know you were.” I grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. “You’re a good boyfriend. I’d really prefer that you fuck me into the mattress, though.”

  I found myself pressed against the door a second later, him plastered along my back, and his rock-hard dick against the crease of my ass. A full-body shiver raced through me and I instinctively ground my ass into him, trying to not whimper. I wanted him in me now. Donovan nipped at the curve of my ear and breathed a husky, “I can do that.”

  16

  We managed to get through my back door and lock it behind us before Donovan pounced on me. I moaned around the tongue in my mouth, enjoying the way it rubbed up against my own. I wrapped both arms around Donovan’s neck tightly, arching up against him and cursing the fact we both had clothes on. I felt like Donovan wearing pants right now was a crime against humanity, and I really wanted to correct it as quickly as possible. But taking them off now would make shuffling toward the bedroom
extremely difficult.

  Right. Bed first, then pants.

  Two large hands wrapped underneath my thighs and then lifted me, making my mouth break away. “Whoa! Dude, I know you’re strong, you don’t need to show off with me.”

  “That’s not it,” Donovan assured me with a glint in his eye. “You just seemed to have a little trouble walking.”

  “Totally your fault,” I whispered against his mouth before taking it again, dominating the kiss from my higher height. Damn, he tasted fine. I wrapped both legs around the other man’s waist, feeling the hard-on pressed up against my own, and couldn’t resist thrusting. Moans spilled from both of our throats, and Donovan’s steps faltered a bit, his hands clenching on my ass. My eyes nearly rolled into my head. We hadn’t sorted the top/bottom details yet, but with the size and feel of that…bottom sure seemed the way to go at the moment.

  Donovan abruptly paused right in the doorway of the living room and pulled back to whisper. “Don’t be alarmed, but we’re not alone.”

  “What?!” Yanking back, I looked frantically about, only to find my niece standing not five feet away with her cellphone pointed our direction. “Skylar!”

  “That was hot,” she assured us, eyes glued to the image on her phone. “Don’t stop, I promise not to upload it on the internet. Much.”

  “It was hot,” Donovan agreed mildly, letting me slowly down. “That is, until you showed up.”

  Groaning, I put both hands over my face and tried not to cry. “I seriously regret giving her a key. Sky, delete that. Now.”

  “Hell no,” my niece responded, holding the phone protectively against her chest. “That was seriously the hottest thing I’ve seen all year.”

  “Delete it or I will touch your phone,” I threatened, already reaching for it.

  She blanched, edging away from me. “You wouldn’t really, would you?”

  Shaking his head, Donovan reached for the wallet in his back pocket and drew it out. “How about I pay you to delete it and you go away?”

  “I like that option much better,” Skylar declared. “How much?”