by Julie Rowe
Bruises had bloomed across her body. The one on her chin, he’d seen before, but there were large ones on her left shoulder and hip. Her knees were nearly black and still swollen.
He couldn’t take his gaze off them.
“Don’t fuss,” she said. “They don’t even hurt.” She paused then added, “Much.”
His voice came out scratchy when he asked, “Turn around, please?”
She sighed and twisted so he could see her back. The bruises there weren’t as bad but did add to the total.
He turned her around, stroking gentle fingers over the bruises he could reach.
She followed the path of his hands with her gaze. “Not very attractive, huh?”
Her words burned through his regret, and he cupped her cheek. “You are beautiful. These testify to your courage and dedication. It pisses me off that there are assholes out there who want to do this to other people.”
She covered his hand with one of hers then kissed his palm. “It’s just you and me right now, Gunner. You and me.” She tilted her head to one side, asking silent questions so loudly he could almost hear them.
Do you want me?
Am I important enough for you to let the world take care of itself for a few hours?
He lifted one corner of his mouth. “Come here so I can kiss you better, badass.”
She leaned down so he could pay homage to the bruise on her chin. Then he made his way down her neck to her shoulder, spending a lot of time feathering kisses over her abused skin. The heat of her bruises told him some of them were bone deep, and it would take weeks for them to heal and disappear.
By the time he’d kissed every bruise on her body, they were both out of breath and shaking with need.
“Gunner, I want…” Her voice quivered. “I crave…”
“Me,” he told her, his hands around her waist, urging her to straddle him. “Take me.”
She pushed herself up, her knees on either side of his hips, then lowered herself onto his cock and sank down on him.
She was so wet and hot, she was able to take all of him in one slow descent.
Her head fell back. “Oh, you feel good, so good.”
“Fuck, you’re so damned perfect,” he managed to get out from between clenched teeth. He was a hair’s breadth from coming and had to focus on maintaining control.
She rose and fell above him, her body flushed, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth as she concentrated on pleasuring them both.
He found her clit with one thumb and began to rub circles around it. “Come for me, Joy,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Come now.”
Her breathing sped up, and she fell out of rhythm as her climax grabbed her up.
He used both hands to help her move above him, faster and faster, extending her orgasm and pushing himself over the edge.
Joy collapsed onto his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.
He was half asleep when she roused from her drowsy state. “We need clothes.”
“Planning on raiding the refrigerator?”
“Don’t want to give any nosy agents any ammunition.” She sounded grumpy.
He tightened his arms and buried his nose between her shoulder and her neck. “Don’t want to lose my heating blanket.”
“You won’t.” Her tone changed to…something warm and certain. Her voice lowered. “We’re partners, remember?”
“Partners,” he agreed, just as certain. He’d been blown up, skewered like a rotisserie chicken, and needed about forty-eight hours of sleep, but for the first time in three years, he was…content. Happy.
All it had taken was…Joy.
She wiggled and he released her, with reluctance. They both slid out of bed and put on pajamas. For Gunner that meant underwear and soft plaid sleep pants, for Joy it was an adult-sized onesie with a large cartoon moose on the front.
She got back into bed, and he spooned up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.
Warm, welcomed, and in the best of company, he wanted to be nowhere else.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wednesday 8:13 a.m.
Joy woke warm and relaxed, Gunner’s scent in her nose. She’d never been comfortable sleeping entangled with anyone before, but with Gunner…they fit. Her eyes opened a tiny bit, and she realized they’d left the lights on in the room.
The lights on, the bloody bandages and clothes on the bathroom floor, and their gear and kits in an untidy pile by the door.
How long had they been asleep? If she lifted her head a few inches she might be able to see the digital clock on the side table, but those inches seemed so far away and her head so heavy. Her eyes closed.
A knock at the door had her wondering if she’d slept again or not. Maybe she’d dreamed it?
Another knock.
Crap. Nope.
Joy slipped out of Gunner’s arms and off the bed.
“Joy?” he asked, his voice tired and rough.
“Someone’s at the door.”
“Probably Dozer come to check on his chicks.”
“Chicks?”
“Yeah, like a mother hen, cluck, cluck.” His eyes closed.
She smiled and opened the door.
Dozer stood there, a paper bag in one hand and a takeout drink tray with three paper cups on it in the other. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked with just a hint of a smile on his face.
“Yeah,” Gunner said, his voice sounding more awake. “I was having a great dream about you clucking at a herd of chicks. Is there food in that bag?” he asked as he got out of bed to take a cup of coffee.
“You dreamt I was a chicken?” Dozer asked, sounding horrified.
“Yeah, and Joy and I were your chicks.” He paused with the coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “Scary.” He took a drink then looked at the cup like it was the Holy Grail. “Thank you. I take back all the shit I’ve called you when you weren’t around.”
Dozer handed over the bag then stepped back so Joy could grab one of the coffees and a beignet for herself. He looked at the bed Gunner sat on, then at the other bed with its tidy blankets.
“So, you two are together.” It was statement, not a question.
Gunner had his mouth full of beignet, so Joy answered. “I had myself an ugly cry last night.” She shrugged. “Gunner let me get his shirt wet, and we fell asleep like that.”
Dozer studied both of them and their wrinkled pajamas.
Yes, we slept with clothes on, Grandma.
“Do I have time for a shower?” She glanced at the bathroom and winced.
The two men looked at the bathroom. The pile of bloody clothing wasn’t something anyone could miss.
Dozer frowned. “Is all that from your leg?” he asked Gunner.
“Yeah, the wound broke open again. Joy glued it back together, though.” He pulled up his pant leg. The bandage was still white. “It seems to be holding.”
“I guess you two did just crash,” Dozer said. He glanced at them and cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure, you have time for a shower. That’s why I’m here, actually.”
“Oh?” Gunner said.
“We’re due in Ketner’s office for a meeting in about ninety minutes. Our attendance is not up for a debate.”
“I don’t suppose the case was solved while we slept?” Joy asked.
Gunner’s question wasn’t far behind. “Did they find all the beer?”
“Don’t know,” the agent said. “We can only hope.” He glanced at the bathroom. “I’ll let you guys get cleaned up and meet you outside in what, thirty minutes?” After one last hard look at the bloodied mess on the floor, he left.
That wasn’t the only mess in the room, but it was the only one she could clean up right now. “Got any biohazard bags with you?” Joy asked.
“Yeah, a couple,” Gunner replied, limping to his go-bag near the door. He rummaged around in it until he found one of the orange bags and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’
ll be quick.” She grabbed her go-bag, darted into the bathroom, and closed the door.
Hot water and soap did a lot to finish waking her up, and by the time she was done and dried off, she finally felt like she might be ready for the day ahead. A fresh pair of scrubs was the last item she needed to consider herself armed for action.
As soon as she left the bathroom, Gunner went in with a sexy smile and a kiss for her as he passed her. He’d smiled at her like that last night, and the intimacy in it hit her like a hammer to the gut.
Camaraderie was expected in partners, desired even. It meant the people in question would work together rather than against each other. It meant they’d have each other’s backs, and if one was sick or injured, the other would pick up the slack.
That smile told a different story, inferred an entirely different set of responses and expectations. Some of those weren’t professional in the least.
Ketner had noticed, and he hadn’t approved. Now they had a meeting in his office. This was not going to be good.
Had last night been a…mistake?
Joy rubbed her face with both hands. She needed more coffee before her brain was capable of untangling the law enforcement knot of agents, jurisdiction, and possible conflicts of interest. To untangle her feelings for her partner. To figure out what to do about any or all of it. A whole lot more breakfast, too.
After gulping down the rest of the cup of coffee Dozer brought and eating another beignet, she made some notes about what had happened yesterday. Her detailed reports were going to be enough for a novel.
When Gunner came out, looking clean, awake, and prepared for work in a set of scrubs, she was nearly ready to go. Except for one thing.
“Take off your pants.”
A wicked-edged smile curved his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She rolled her eyes, stuffing down the worry his sexy little joke evoked, and waved at him. “Shoo. In the bathroom with you.”
He shooed.
He wasn’t acting like a work partner, he was acting like a boyfriend.
He pulled his pants down, sat on the toilet seat.
She wanted to lean down and kiss him, and had to force herself to simply lower herself to her knees and put her hands on his injured leg. She said nothing as she unwrapped the bandages holding the dressings in place. The wound looked clean and no worse than last night. She put fresh dressings on his leg then bandaged it again.
“You will say something if it breaks open again or becomes more painful,” she said in a tone she hoped communicated how much trouble he’d be in if he didn’t.
When he rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, Mom,” that was more like normal Gunner. She knew he’d comply, if only so he could call her mom again and get away with it.
“How long did we sleep?” he asked.
“About five hours.” She got to her feet and backed out of the bathroom so he’d have enough room to pull his pants back on. “Not nearly enough.”
“A solid twelve hours would be awesome.”
She glanced at him as he finished dressing. His face was pale, and there were bags under his eyes. Did he look as tired as she felt?
“Got some monster bruises blooming all over the place,” Joy said, looking at his legs and frowning. She knew she had a number of smaller cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but nothing that would slow her down. His leg was a bigger problem. It did slow him down.
“You’ve got a few yourself,” he said, the smile dimming a little.
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “One or five.” This whole investigation had been weird right from the get go. Beer was a terrible delivery system. Yet, it also would never have occurred to anyone to suspect it as the source for a massive E. coli outbreak if a few kegs weren’t tapped too early.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t found all the kegs yet, and today was the start of spring break.
More people were going to get sick and die.
That thought left her staggering around inside her own head. She couldn’t see a way to win, but she wasn’t ready to give up, and she was sure Gunner wasn’t, either.
“What we need is caffeine and sugar.” He thrust his chin in the direction of the doorway. “And what do you know? Our sheepdog brought us some.”
She chuckled at the thought of Dozer as a dog and took a bite from another beignet.
Gunner finished dressing then gathered up all of his stuff and shoved it into his go-bag.
She stuffed the last of a beignet in her mouth as he joined her near the bed.
“How many of those things do you have in there?” he asked with a bemused expression on his face.
“Two,” she managed to say clearly, if a little slowly. “These are so good.”
“First chance we get,” he said, heading for the door, his gear and go-bag in hand, “we’ll stop and get them fresh at a bakery.”
“That,” she said after swallowing her mouthful of food, “is a plan I can get behind.”
Dozer was waiting for them in his SUV. Gunner took shotgun while Joy got into the back seat. Maybe she could get a little more sleep.
“How far away is Ketner’s office?” Gunner asked as Dozer pulled into traffic.
“We’ve got about a forty-five minute drive.”
“Forty-five minutes is awesome,” Joy said with a yawn. “I’m going to nap. Wake me when we get there.” She leaned her head against the window.
…
A few minutes later, Dozer glanced at her in the rear view mirror then looked at Gunner. “She drops off fast.”
“The Army forces you to learn how to do that.”
“I was in the Army, too.” He paused. “This is different. This is what special forces and Navy SEALs learn how to do.”
“She was in combat rescue,” Gunner said with a sardonic lilt. “It got pretty busy about then.”
“So she saw a lot of action?”
Gunner made an affirmative noise.
“You weren’t in the Army.”
It was a statement, but he answered it like it had been a question. “No.”
The agent was silent, his fingers tapping out a fast rhythm on the steering wheel.
Gunner was too tired to deal with this shit. “What?”
Dozer shifted in his seat. “What’s up with you two?”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to try to interpret any question that open ended. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Are you solid?”
Gunner had to give it to the agent, he was good at interrogation hidden inside friendly inquiry. Gunner waited several seconds before saying with no small amount of sarcasm, “I’m waiting for you to ask me if I’m a vegetable, animal, or mineral.”
“Damn it,” Dozer muttered. “I’m losing my touch.”
Gunner grunted. “Or you have a headache due to the concussion you’re currently recovering from.”
“Look,” Dozer said. “Ketner’s got a real hard-on for you and Joy. He’s determined to get you thrown off the investigation.”
“Got any idea why?”
“Some bullshit about you being a pain in his ass, and the two of you seem to be too personally invested. He thinks you might do something stupid, because you’re not thinking completely rationally all the time.” Dozer shook his head. “I told him a new CDC team won’t be any different, but I don’t think he heard me.”
“So now he wants you off the team, too?”
“Hell if I know, but probably.”
Now for the important question. “Do you want us off this assignment?”
“You’re a little beat up, but I think you’re capable of doing your job.” Dozer drove without comment for a minute or two then said in a low voice, “Having said that, you and your partner don’t seem to follow the same set of rules the rest of us do. You’ve terrified the crap out of me more than once. I might have a full blown panic attack before this is done.”
Gunner frowned. How did he get tagged as terrifying? On second thought, he didn’t want to know. �
�I hope we scare the living shit out of the assholes who started this.”
Dozer’s answer was a nasty grin and a fist bump.
They arrived at the New Orleans FBI field office’s parking lot with about five minutes to spare before the meeting started.
Gunner leaned closer to Joy and said her name a couple of times before she shifted and opened her eyes.
“Hey,” she said.
“We’re at the FBI field office.”
“Yippee,” she said with mock enthusiasm.
Dozer snorted and got out of the SUV.
Joy’s nose wrinkled up like she smelled something disgusting. “You guys talk loud.”
“You heard the whole thing?”
“Enough to know we freak him out.” She shook her head. “You could have said something to reassure him that we’re not completely nuts.”
“Um, we are a bit nuts, Joy.”
“Really?” she blinked. “Well whether we are or aren’t, we have to convince them we can do our jobs right now. There’s no one else available to take our place. They need us.”
“I’m afraid the FBI doesn’t believe they need us for anything.”
She gave him a hatchet smile. “The FBI isn’t calling the shots. We are.”
He loved it when she got snarly, so fucking hot.
Joy walked into the building, Gunner behind her, guarding her back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wednesday 10:00 a.m.
Joy followed Dozer into the building, breathing deep to expel some of the frustration digging tiny claws into her skin and nagging at her focus.
If this meeting was about personalities rather than investigation priorities, she wasn’t going to be able to hold onto her temper.
They made their way to the checkpoint, presented their credentials, and were escorted to a small conference room.
Ketner sat next to another agent, close enough to make her think they either knew each other well or had partnered before. MacDougall was there, along with a man in a suit that screamed detective.
The table was oval shaped, and the chairs were arranged in a horseshoe so everyone could see a large flat screen TV on the wall. Dozer took a seat next to the unknown FBI agent, Gunner took the next one, and Joy the last.