Blind Spot

by Maggie Kavanagh

  “What are you looking for?” Nathan asked.

  Finally Sam encountered plastic. He grabbed the small bottle of lube and held it up with what he hoped was a sexy, rather than manic, grin over his shoulder. “Always come prepared.”

  He wriggled his ass and then stood to face Nathan, discarded his jeans and shirt, and pulled down his boxer briefs. His erection sprung free and poked straight at Nathan like a divining rod.

  Nathan crossed his arms and kept his eyes focused on Sam’s face. “It’s not a good idea. I think you should put your clothes back on.”

  That was it. The last straw.

  “I knew it. You don’t want me anymore.” Sam turned away as tears started to well in his eyes. He couldn’t hold them back. It was all too much—the car chase, the cravings, the revelation of Janice’s affair with his father, and this rejection. He thought he’d hit his lowest point when he learned his parents’ deaths might have been murder, but he was wrong.

  “Sam, look at me. Of course I want you.”

  Sam responded to the commanding tone almost against his will. He saw love and compassion in Nathan’s eyes. He saw trust. His world righted itself as warmth spread through his stomach. He could trust Nathan. He loved Nathan.

  “I don’t think now is a good time—”

  “Shut up.” Sam stalked across the room—trying to muster as much dignity as he could with his swaying hard-on—and planted himself in front of Nathan, who stood his ground, staring down at Sam with a defiant expression on his handsome face. The difference in their heights made it difficult to appear intimidating, so, in an effort to turn the tables, Sam laced his hands behind Nathan’s head and pulled him down into a bruising, closemouthed kiss. Sam’s teeth pressed punishingly into his lips, and the shock of pain made his cock twitch in response. After a moment of resistance, Nathan kissed Sam back and wrapped his arms tightly around him as their bodies fit together. Their mouths opened and the kiss softened as the hardness in Nathan’s jeans gave him away. Sam reached down, felt for the zipper, and rubbed Nathan’s trapped erection for good measure.

  “I think you should stop treating me like a damn five-year-old,” he whispered against Nathan’s lips.

  “Well, I think we should talk about what just happened.” Nathan grabbed Sam’s wrist to stop the unzipping process, and Sam grunted in disapproval and tried to yank his hand away.

  Sam felt his face heat—with anger, not with shame. “I’m sick of talking. I don’t need you to be my therapist. I need you to give me what I need.”

  “And what exactly is that?” Nathan’s voice held a hint of the dark promise that always made Sam’s toes curl.

  “You know what. I want you to blindfold me and tie me up so I can’t move. I want you to spank me and bite my neck as you fuck me. I want you to use me. I want to forget my own name.” He panted at the last words, already floating as adrenaline and endorphins fired his blood. He rubbed his needy cock against Nathan and whimpered as the rough material of Nathan’s jeans scraped against his excited flesh.

  It seemed like Nathan might give in. His eyes kindled, their pupils blown wide, and he relaxed his grip on Sam’s wrist. Sam took advantage of the moment to free himself and continue his pursuit of Nathan’s cock, which was still rock hard. If he could just get it in his hand, Nathan wouldn’t be able to resist.

  Nathan stepped out of the embrace, backed away, adjusted himself, and refastened his fly.

  “I’m not sceneing with you like this. And I’m definitely not tying you up or hurting you in any way. I don’t think it would end well, and I think you know that too. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, but I can’t do it. Don’t ask me to.”

  Standing naked and vulnerable in the center of the room, Sam instinctively covered his softening cock with both of his hands. His eyes felt hot again, and he turned away to find his clothes. Maybe he’d leave, go down to the bar and drink like he wanted to in the first place.

  His lips were numb as he pulled up his jeans and buttoned them. It was almost the way he felt while being chased by Silver Sedan. Intellectually, he knew he was in a mild state of shock. He stared down at his discarded T-shirt. If he bent to get it, he’d keel over.

  “Come here,” Nathan said. “Sam?” His voice seemed far away.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. He saw his mother in the hospital with blood matted in her reddish blonde hair. He scrubbed his hands over his face to erase the picture, but it wouldn’t disappear. An affair. How could his father do it? He pressed the pads of his fingers against his closed eyelids, which were hot and scratchy. His heart felt like it might tear out of his chest, it was beating so hard.

  Nathan wrapped strong arms around him from behind. “I’ve got you,” he said.

  Sam turned around and ducked his head, mildly worried he was getting Nathan’s shirt wet. “Sorry,” he said, not recognizing his own voice.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  SAM WOKE the next morning feeling drained but oddly calm. It took him a minute to place where he was, since he only vaguely remembered the previous night. He didn’t want to think too hard about it. It was tempting to close his eyes again and drift back to sleep, but the bed shifted, and he rolled over to find Nathan sitting up with his computer in his lap, his hair disheveled. He had circles under his eyes, like he’d been up all night.

  “You’re still here.”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Of course I am. How’re you feeling?”

  “Better.” Sam struggled to sit up under the thick down comforter. He couldn’t meet Nathan’s eyes. “Sorry for the, uh, breakdown last night.” He winced as the memories started to return. Yeah. There had been deeply unsexy crying.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks, by the way.” Sam bit his lower lip. “You were right about… you know.”

  “It’s not about being right. It’s about looking out for each other. You’d do the same for me. And in fact you have. So don’t be embarrassed.”

  Sam raised his eyes to meet Nathan’s. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Nathan smiled, and it was enough for Sam to smile back and let the previous night go.

  He shifted closer. “What are you working on?”

  “Oh, nothing that can’t wait.” Nathan flipped his laptop closed and set it on the bedside table. He was naked, and desire curled in Sam’s belly as Nathan stretched and flexed his sleek muscles. Then Sam pulled him close, urging him up and over so that Nathan was on top of him. He could feel Nathan’s cock nudge his belly. He was already mostly erect. But Nathan’s eyes were even more captivating. They were filled with hope and sleepy arousal. On a whim Sam rubbed the tip of his nose against Nathan’s. Nathan chuckled.

  They were both fully hard, but there was no urgency. Sam figured they could take things slowly. He would happily stay like that for the rest of the day. “Is there any way we can rewind a week or so?”

  “I have a better idea. Let’s let it go and move forward from here.” Nathan ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, scratching lightly against his scalp.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  They kissed, tongues meeting and twining together. Nathan swiveled his hips in a slow, tantalizing motion. His smell and taste filled Sam’s senses until his entire body was alive with desire. It had been weeks since they’d been so close, and Sam didn’t ever want to wait so long again. He grabbed on to Nathan’s back and reveled in the warm skin, the hard plane of muscle.

  “I’m so glad you’re mine,” he said, because it was true.

  “Always.”

  Sam’s throat constricted with emotion. Never again would he let his feelings of inadequacy cause him to doubt Nathan’s affections. Never again would he self-sabotage the good things in his life. Those reactions had never brought him anything but pain.

  He would trust, as he wanted to be trusted, and Nathan would learn to trust him back the same way.

  He must have sa
id something out loud, though it didn’t sound as fancy as it had in his head. Nathan grinned at him—a glorious sight—and then rolled them over so Sam was on top.

  Sam looked down. He loved every one of the fine lines around Nathan’s eyes, the occasional gray hairs within the blackness of his beard, and his expressive mouth.

  “I need you to move. Please,” Nathan said thickly. Sam didn’t need to be asked twice, but Nathan wasn’t inclined to be passive either. He gripped Sam’s ass with his strong hands, urging him to strike a steady rhythm. Maybe Nathan was his magnetic north, the one person he couldn’t turn away from and who wouldn’t turn away from him. Maybe love could last, could grow strong roots and break through even the toughest rocky earth. He kissed Nathan and reached between their bodies to stroke them together.

  “Here,” Nathan said. “Let me.” He covered Sam’s hand with his own. Everything fit together—their hands, their leaking cocks. They belonged like this—not apart, but side by side. They would be all right. Sam could feel it in his bones.

  Sam cried out as he tumbled into release, his cock pulsing against Nathan’s belly and hand. Nathan came seconds later with a muffled grunt and caught Sam’s lips in a kiss. It was over far too quickly, but as Sam lay in Nathan’s arms, their skin sticky and wet, he realized he’d never been happier.

  “I’m not going to drink anymore,” he said as his heart rate started to slow.

  Nathan leaned over him. Sam expected to see skepticism, but Nathan only nodded. “Okay.”

  AFTERWARD THEY talked and filled in the more benign details of what they’d both missed over the last couple of weeks. It was almost better than sex, but of course there was more of that too. Soon it was late morning, and Sam disentangled himself from Nathan and headed to the shower. In spite of the news from the previous day, he felt good. Unfortunately he was out of clean clothes, and Nathan was running low too. They needed to stop at a store or a Laundromat in the next day—or go home.

  Home would be nice.

  Sam showered and shaved. He reentered the bedroom to find Nathan at his computer again. His expression was grim.

  “Oh great. What happened now?”

  “Tony sent an e-mail. Looks like he wants us to come in to HQ today. They—they found Collins.”

  “Shit. Really? Where was he?” Sam approached the desk when Nathan beckoned and scanned the brief e-mail from Rivera. As he read, Nathan wrapped an arm around his waist.

  Dangerous to be on your own… our guys in Florida found his body… bullet wound to the head. Report to the New York office immediately.

  “Collins is dead?” Sam said blankly. He reread the e-mail again and again, but he couldn’t make sense of it. It couldn’t be right. Collins had been heading out of the country when they spoke. Hadn’t he? “I don’t understand.”

  “It looks like a hit. I’m sorry, Sam.”

  Sam thought about the guy’s thinning hair, his fragile features. He hadn’t been a good guy, but he hadn’t been evil either, and it sounded like he met a brutal end. Poor bastard.

  “Yeah. Me too. So what do you think we should do?” Rivera’s e-mail was pretty cut and dry.

  “It’s up to you.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam frowned, and Nathan’s arm tightened around him. “You mean you’ll go with me to see Sheldon?” He never thought Nathan would agree—not in a million years—and especially not given Sam’s reaction the night before.

  “Do you still want to talk to him?”

  Sam didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah. I do.”

  “He might not want to see you.”

  “I know. But I have to try, at the very least.”

  “Tony’s not going to be happy,” Nathan murmured. He typed back a quick message. “But this is more important. And he knows I have another case.”

  “Are you telling him where we’re headed?” Sam read over his shoulder, indulging his curiosity.

  “No need to rock the boat. We’ll be fine.” Nathan snapped his laptop shut.

  “How are we going to get in? Don’t we need to be on a list or something?”

  Nathan smirked. He reached for his badge. “That’s where this comes in.”

  “Oh.” Sometimes being in love with an FBI agent had its perks.

  THE FEDERAL prison where Sheldon was incarcerated was several hours from their hotel. Sam had tried to visit his father’s old friend once during his trial and had been turned away. At the time, he saw it as a cowardly refusal on the part of the ex-chief of police, but he hadn’t suspected then that the guy was hiding something about his parents.

  He knew Sheldon had coordinated the whole thing. He was positive—as sure as he’d ever been about anything. He clenched his jaw and stared at the summer scenery through the open Buick window. The gris-gris swayed in the wind. Sam wondered about it. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but he hoped it would bring them good luck. They could use a dose.

  They crossed the border to Pennsylvania at around noon. The land was flat and green, punctuated here and there by a farm in the distance, though the road was mostly lined with trees. Half the time, Sam expected Silver Sedan to pull up alongside them and try to run them off the road. But aside from a necessary pit stop halfway through the drive, nothing eventful happened.

  It seemed almost too easy.

  Nathan didn’t say much, though he did have to take a call from Eric. From what Sam could tell, he was wondering when Nathan was coming back to Jersey with his car. The brief vacation would have to end soon. Nathan needed to head back to wrap up his case, and Sam would be who knew where—maybe in a federal safe house, if Rivera had his way.

  Sam had received a couple of texts too. Rachel had apparently won over Alex’s parents, and Yuri was gloating over his new boy toy. But he was equally concerned over Sam’s whereabouts.

  Eventually Nathan made the turn off the highway to Lafayette Prison. A network of concrete buildings, bundled together by twenty-foot-high chain-link fences, appeared in the otherwise-pristine valley. There were towers along the perimeter manned by guards holding sniper rifles. Sam’s blood chilled. He’d never been to a federal prison before, and he was glad he was visiting on the right side of the law.

  The narrow road finally diverged in front of the foremost building, and they followed the signs to the visitor’s lot. It was half-empty. Unfortunately they’d arrived at the tail end of visiting hours. Sam hoped he’d still have enough time to do what he needed to do.

  They parked the Buick and then crunched over the gravel lot toward the visitor’s entrance. Sam trailed Nathan, relieved he wasn’t alone. The first guard they encountered was a short, muscular man who looked like he might have done some time too. He stared at them from behind yellowed plexiglass.

  “We’re here to see Daniel Sheldon,” Nathan said. He pulled out his badge and held it up for the guard to see. The guy raised his eyebrows. He had small, beady eyes and nose hair for miles.

  “He hasn’t had many visitors,” said the guard, who was already flipping through a list attached to a clipboard.

  “Will that be a problem?” Nathan asked. He had a connection at the prison if they ran into any trouble. Sam held his breath. He was so close to answers that he didn’t think he could bear a setback.

  “Shouldn’t be. Your name?” The guard nodded at Sam.

  Sam slid over his ID, and the guy squinted at it, and then at a page on his clipboard. “All right. You two are good to go. But just so you know, visiting hours are over in twenty minutes.”

  Sam turned to Nathan with a grateful smile. “Looks like we’re in.”

  They emptied their pockets, made it through the gauntlet of security measures, and were met by a guard at a far door. Sam was about to step through, but he noticed Nathan’s hesitation.

  “What’s up?”

  “Sheldon isn’t going to talk to you if I’m there, not after what happened with Emma. But he might if you go alone.” Nathan’s voice was gruff, and he kept it low so the waiting guard co
uldn’t overhear. Sam could feel the tension radiating from him. He wanted to take Nathan’s hand, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea, given their surroundings.

  “So you’re not coming?”

  Nathan shook his head tersely. He must have noticed an expression on Sam’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. For a moment they were in the bedroom, and Nathan’s question held a whole other meaning.

  Sam swallowed and met Nathan’s gaze levelly. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Nathan squeezed his arm, and then the guard buzzed Sam through the door to the interior of the prison. Everything was an institutional, dingy taupe, from the walls to the uniforms the guards wore. Sam followed a female guard down a hallway, and then through a sally port out into the sunlight. The visitor’s room was in another building. They passed a fenced-off area with a basketball court, where a few prisoners were shooting hoops. One guy with a resentful, predatory look on his face, stood off to the side, smoking and watching Sam pass.

  They reached a second building. The guard unlocked the thick metal door, led Sam through an additional metal detector, and then down a short hall to finally knock twice on yet another door. A guard opened it and ushered Sam inside. He could hear the huge bolt slide shut behind him.

  The visitor’s room was large and consisted of about twenty metal tables with chairs on either side. Inmates and their guests occupied half of them. The rest sat empty, the same dull color as the rest of the place.

  Sam nodded as the female guard gestured to one of the tables toward the front of the room. His palms felt clammy as he sat as instructed and stared down at the table. He finally realized why guys in old gangster movies referred to prison as the can. Maybe the monotone color scheme was intended to make prisoners feel hopeless, or maybe the state simply didn’t have the budget to care for appearances. Whatever the case Sam was pretty sure he’d go insane if he were an inmate. Not that it made him feel any sympathy for Sheldon.