We just did it because it felt good. Well, it did to me. I had visions of us being as much friends as lovers, supporting each other through the missions.
God knows, we needed it.
Niall came home sometimes dirty and tired, ears obviously ringing from explosions or shots that had been too fucking close. Sometimes there’d been casualties no one had anticipated. He’d sit in the bedroom and he’d strip and clean his personal handguns, quickly and fiercely as if it burned his fingers to hold them any longer than necessary. He’d tell me about some of the missions, but others he wouldn’t, even when I asked.
Meanwhile, my reactions were more extroverted. I ranted and raved about the way things had gone, the successes, the setbacks. The damned stupid way the world ran. The arguments I had with Judith, the delays in supply, the caliber of personnel, the fucking rain when I was on outdoor surveillance in the park. I liked to talk. Hell, he knew that well enough. But he so rarely reacted. Sometimes it even looked like he was bored.
That was too painful to consider, of course.
Once, after he’d returned from a three-day solo mission, I heard him cry. Quietly, in the bathroom during his shower. With the door closed so he thought I wouldn’t see or hear. Maybe he forgot I was there or something. Though it was hardly that large an apartment.
“Niall?” I stood close to the door. I wanted to respect the privacy he obviously thought he needed, but the sound was shocking. It made something inside me ache, tightening up in my chest so painfully that my own eyes started to water. “Niall, I missed you. Hey… you okay?”
He never answered. The water stopped and I heard him padding across the floor of the bathroom.
“You want to talk about it?” Of course, that was probably the worst thing I could have said, but I wasn’t thinking straight. I wanted to help him; to hold him. The door opened, and he came out very slowly, as if walking was an effort. He had a towel twisted around his hips. I stepped up close and put my arms around him, pulling him into my embrace. He smelled of shower gel, his hair damp, his bare skin warm.
But he was tense, his body stiff against me like some kind of robot.
“Anything you want,” I said. “Tell me.” I pressed my lips to his ear, breathing into him as if I could somehow melt the tension. Yeah, the other guys could probably update me on what specifically had happened, but this was about me and Niall. I wanted to hear him tell me. “I can understand. I can take it. Tell me. Let me help.”
“No,” he said. His voice was hoarse and—shockingly—angry. “Leave it.”
What the fuck?
He turned to me then, his head buried in my neck, his teeth against my skin. I couldn’t see his eyes. He grasped my upper arms and his fingers dug in deeply. “I’m back now.” It was like a growl. “That’s all you need.”
I started to protest, but he pressed against me even harder. His heartbeat was very fast, I could feel it through the thin cotton of my tee shirt.
“Fuck me,” he whispered, raggedly. “Do it, now!”
My breathing sped up, and lust shimmered through my veins as warm as blood. Then he gave an impatient shake of his hips and let his towel fall to the floor, his body bare and flushed, his cock thick and rubbing its wet need along my leg.
I didn’t ask about the crying again.
WE WERE very different. I said that before, I reckon.
Took me a while to realize that was what it was really about.
The sex continued to be as hot as it had ever been. We’d be apart for a while, and then we’d be back in the same apartment like newly married yet sexually familiar partners. At first there’d be a thick cloak of tension, clutching around us like a straitjacket. We’d argue over something—or nothing—like we needed to let off steam before we could touch. And then we’d clamber over each other’s bodies to get to the soft, sensitive bits, and we’d fuck like starved bunnies.
After all, it had been his body I wanted, right from the first time I saw him. It was that rush of thick, ecstatic delight that suffused me every time I saw him. That was all I needed to keep me riding the crest of a wave. So maybe I didn’t need to nag at things any deeper. Or so I told myself. Dammit, I spent my whole time at work organizing people and trying to analyze their motives and behavior, it was damned stupid to want to do a whole lot of it between the sheets as well. Niall’s approach was probably just fine. He suffered the same pressure, after all. We both knew how significant the work was to us, and what it represented in our lives. Anything else was just a diversion, just entertainment. If strong and silent was the way he wanted to be, I could play along.
Liar, liar.
It didn’t work that way, of course. By then, I knew how deeply I really felt about him. Not just his body, fit and lean and deliciously demanding as that was. No, I knew how I felt about all of him; how he dressed, how he laughed, how he puzzled, how he wrote, how he smiled… yeah, all of him. But he rarely gave me any opportunity—or encouragement—to tell him so.
Guess he didn’t want to know.
I don’t think either of us had realized the Team work would be its own kind of trial, as well as an unbelievably exciting challenge. Ridiculously long hours, reams of paperwork, and the need to have a portion of your brain concentrated on the mission and the other Team members at all times. Great successes, but some horrible, terrible failures, too, where decent people suffered. And throughout it all, a constant exposure to people whose motivation would probably remain incomprehensible for the whole of your conscious life and whose lack of humanity was often staggering.
How we coped with this? That’s where most of the differences lay. The arguments followed, far too close on the heels of the passion.
“You’re going out again tonight?” Niall had watched me gel my hair, pull on my jacket and collect up my keys. From the look on his face, he was pissed.
“Out. The club. Whatever.”
“Why not stay in for a change?” The edge to his voice belied the casual query.
I raised an eyebrow. “No way. Not after the week I’ve had. Two missions back to back, extra hours planning the embassy job. I’ve had enough.” I’d earned a couple of free days, and I was damned well going to make the most of them. “Come with me.”
He shook his head; he didn’t do clubs, I knew. But it felt like he’d been quietly disapproving all evening. When I turned the music up, he’d gone to the bedroom to read. When I served up some dinner, he ate half of it, then said he wasn’t hungry any longer.
“You need to relax,” I said. “Seems to me, you don’t know how to wind down.” I felt particularly provocative that night. “Sometimes it’s hell to live with, I know. But we have to find ways of getting through it.”
“Hell to live with, eh?”
“The job. The job’s hell to live with.” I stared at him, challenging him. “Or do you want to make that something else?”
He glared back at me, just as steadily. Anger flickered like a tiny blue flame in his eyes. His quietness annoyed the shit out of me, and when I was tired and frustrated, I’d start to push him to open up. And sometimes, that was exactly what he did. He could give as good as he got, you know. He was no shrinking violet.
“Seems to me, you’ve found your way of winding down, Tanner. Every damned night.”
“Huh?” I was damned tired; all I wanted was a dance and a few drinks and some mindless fun. And now I was on the defense. “Why don’t you stop scowling at me and chill out? There’s nothing wrong with letting loose. It helps.”
“Not for me. I don’t see how clubbing all night and drinking yourself insensible can help.” That sharp tone to his voice really pissed me off. “Can’t you see? You’re surely not that stupid. It’s just running and hiding—”
“Hiding?” You’re surely not that stupid? My personal fuse got way shorter. “But you’d know all about hiding, wouldn’t you?”
His eyes darkened. “I don’t want to talk about me—”
“You sure as hell don’t!” I
snapped. “But all I’ve got is one guy’s point of view, so that guy’s entertainment rocks my boat, okay?”
I left the apartment soon after. I didn’t come back until the small hours of the next morning.
Expectations were high: from the Project Team, from my own ambitions, from a new and demanding relationship. I wasn’t used to being so screwed up all the time, so tired, so tense. I didn’t have time to look at things any more closely; any more tolerantly. Pity that it took argument to draw Niall out of his shell, but after a while, that became an end in itself. In some warped kind of way, the arguments were exciting. They were fierce and fast, and often finished up with grabbing hands and clothes torn off. And despite the raised voices and harsh words, I reckoned I had control over it all, that there was a foundation underneath us that made the friction nothing more than lively sex play.
It was a new, unfamiliar time for everyone, right? Perhaps it was all too much, too soon. It was what I wanted, though. He was what I wanted. And I had him too.
But I guess, being brutally honest, I was never sure for how long.
Tuesday 08:30
THE TRAILER creaked as I turned on my bed and bumped carelessly against the outside wall. I bit back a groan.
The morning light sneaked in through the blinds of my tiny bedroom, throwing zigzags across my covers. I peeled a grudging eye open and let consciousness creep in. What time was it? My watch lay on the nightstand and it was winking past eight o’clock at me. I groaned again and spent a couple of minutes trying to re-orient myself. I was lying on the top of my bed, fully dressed. My jeans had bunched up awkwardly into the backs of my knees, and my shirt felt as rough as cardboard on my skin. I remembered dozing off on the floor of the lounge in the small hours of the morning before finally dragging myself in here to try to get some proper sleep. I also recalled nightmares about exploding buildings and barking dogs. And sundry other bedtime memories that had blessed me with an aching, not-so-good-morning hard-on. I considered the specific characteristics of a cold shower with vindictive thoroughness until my body calmed down again.
Then I remembered who else was at home.
I reckoned if I got up swiftly, I might avoid my new houseguest for a bit longer. I stumbled in and out of a tepid shower as best I could without making a hell of a racket. I dragged on some soft grey-fabric sweat pants and a tee shirt that had missed this week’s ironing duties. But by the time I got to the kettle—my particular Holy Grail—he was there before me. I’d obviously missed him rising from the couch. The blanket was folded neatly on the cushion, and the coffeepot was warmed already. There was the smell of toast in the small, ill-ventilated room, to say nothing of the smell of freshly washed, clean-clothed Niall Sutherland. Despite his whole life having been demolished within the last forty-eight hours, he had clean jeans and tee shirt on, and was managing to look as fresh as a chain of daisies.
“Unhh,” I managed. Thought I ought at least to be civil, though I felt nothing like it. He looked way too good for the time of day. The tee shirt was attractively tight across his muscled torso and slightly caught up at one side; there was a sliver of dusky skin showing above the low waist of his jeans. I tugged at the sweats that hung casually around my hips, feeling less than sparkling in return. I’d lost weight since I moved in here, and nothing seemed to fit quite the way it used to.
He put the mug of coffee into my hand, and I blanched at the suddenly familiar gesture.
“I put two sugars in,” he said. He sounded defensive, like I’d otherwise accuse him of poisoning me. “It’s strong.”
“Fine.” I knew how he made coffee, didn’t I? But I’d had a bad night; I had a lot to think about. I wasn’t at my best. I looked at this man in my kitchen, tall and dark-eyed and too fucking close for any kind of comfort, and I felt nausea that almost scared me. His mouth was pursed, like he gritted his teeth. I wondered at what hour he’d woken up in order to avoid me. Any other time, I’d have laughed at the situation we found ourselves in.
“I made some breakfast. I was hungry, I’m afraid.” His eyes didn’t exactly reflect the apology, but never mind. “I didn’t realize that was the end of the bread, though.”
I shrugged. “You slept through a couple of meals, I guess. Pity they didn’t deliver you with a packed lunchbox. I can’t exactly pop out to the store.” It sounded abrasive, but I didn’t seem to be able to get the right tone. “You know I don’t have a car at the moment? If you need anything, I’ll have to borrow off someone else on the park, or wait for one of the guys to be traveling into town and grab a ride.”
“Look, Tanner, I don’t like this any better than you do.” His eyes were like flint. “How many times do I need to say it? But I don’t have a choice. Some bastard tried to kill both me and Joe, and I’m not keen on him taking another shot. At least, not until I get a chance to organize some kind of defense. So let’s just get over it, right? The sooner we find the troublemakers and eliminate them, the sooner I’m out of here.”
“Suits me,” I said. I went to leave the kitchen but he’d moved around while he spoke, and his body was halfway across the narrow opening. I paused before moving forward—only for a fraction of a second—assuming he’d shift out of the way. He didn’t. I twisted sharply to avoid him, but our hips grazed. And as he turned his head away from me, his breath brushed across my neck, my skin still damp from the shower.
Every one of my nerves shuddered. Fuck. I caught my shoulder on the doorframe, biting back a curse, and then I strode out into my lounge.
I really didn’t know how this was going to work out, I really didn’t. There was just too much going on. Petty stuff like the lack of bread for breakfast toast, then big stuff like the attacks, the worry about the other guys, the disturbance of my sanctuary, the tension between me and Niall, the soft, earthy smell of his body up close and personal….
I’d missed a hell of a lot more than the Team and its good friendships. And it all concentrated around this man. The memory of my morning erection threatened to become a reality again, and I hoped he hadn’t seen my hand hovering protectively over my groin as I passed him.
“So what’s on your agenda for today?” I sat down heavily on the couch, nursing the coffee he’d made. It was, as always, just as I liked it. “There’s an old TV the previous owner insisted on leaving me. I think a couple of satellite channels work. Not many books, I’m afraid. And the music system is shot to pieces from the move. I never seem to find time to get it fixed.”
He frowned at that. “Strange to think of you without your music.”
I shrugged. I felt warm, like I was blushing. “Wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying here. Might have been moving on. You know.”
He stared at me like it was the last thing he’d know. “It’s up to you, of course.”
You said it. I didn’t like him staring at me like that. The familiar couch felt awkward underneath me, and I fought the irritable urge to wriggle.
He walked across the lounge, his gaze darting over to his boxes. “Anyway, I’m not after that sort of entertainment. I have to get to work. There are some papers that Judith found for me, some transcripts of the last communications that Brad intercepted just before the attack on the apartment. He apparently had some idea where the threat was coming from.”
“But…?” I prompted. “Simon said he was out in the field.”
“Yes.” Niall looked disturbed. “Ever since the first attack, Brad’s been monitoring some unusual satellite signals, some interference underlying the Department’s routine communications. It alerted him somehow. Then a short time before the explosion at Westbridge….” He was swallowing his distress; I could see the subtle change in him, though maybe other people wouldn’t have noticed. “Apparently he’d discovered something fairly urgent. None of us were around, so he left a brief e-mail for Judith and went out after the source himself.”
“Without backup?”
Niall shook his head with annoyance. “Tanner, the Team has been in a state of
barely controlled panic ever since the attacks started. A lot of the standard procedures have moved down the priority list. Yes, Brad shouldn’t have gone without either seeking Judith’s sanction or taking one of us with him. But you weren’t there, of course—”
I grunted.
“And Joe and I were working on the toxin report after the attempt on Judith’s life—”
“What? Simon said it was nothing serious, dammit!”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “And although Simon was coming on duty, everything spiraled out of control within the next hour or so, culminating in the actual blast. Then he was pretty fully occupied, as you can imagine.”
Pulling you out of the wreckage. Right. I felt mean, but I didn’t feel up to admitting it.
“Anyway, I have the message records and Brad’s notes here with me. Judith brought them over for me. I insisted I wanted to look through them as soon as possible. Perhaps I can find some clues there, find out how they traced us, what their plans are. Who and where the hell they are! Simon’s also working on it, but from within the Department with the resources they have there.”
“Has he been targeted too?”
Niall grimaced slightly, but I didn’t think it was because of me. His mind was scanning other things, I knew that look of distraction. “No, there’ve been no specific threats against him so far, it seems safe enough for him to remain in place. But any of us who’ve been hit already—well, we’re either under police guard or in hiding, as you’ve gathered. I preferred the option of remaining accessible, so they had to find me somewhere to go, where I could… you know. Work.” He was uncomfortable, that was pretty obvious. “So where’s your table, Tanner? I need to spread out the printouts.” His eyes flickered over the small card table beside the couch. “Don’t tell me that’s the only work surface you have available?”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 79