by Adira August
Wood put an electric blanket on top of the bed’s comforter, and set it on low.
In the face of so much testosterone and determination, Veronica Flay gave in. She started the IV and didn’t stare at the dark, rangy man with the smouldering blue-grey eyes or follow the path of his arm and hand under the blanket as he stroked her patient’s body.
She addressed Woodward. “I need to catheterize him, and it’s not optional. Then I’ll get an ECG and set up some monitoring equipment. And there’s a much better warming blanket in that blue bin.”
“Dane?” Wood asked.
Hunt threw a leg across Cam’s body and rolled half over him. He laid his warm, bristly cheek against Cam’s alarmingly cold one.
“Hunter.”
It was more a breath than a whisper.
“Right here, Cam. I’m staying right here until you wake up. A nice lady doctor’s going to do the catheter thing. You won’t have to get up at all.”
“Found him.”
“Yes, you did.” Hunter pushed Cam’s hair back and held his head, giving him a lingering kiss.
Cam’s body fully relaxed, and he slipped back into his own darkness.
Wood rummaged through the billionaire’s dresser for warm socks.
CAMDEN SNOW SLEPT for seventeen hours. At hour three, he began producing urine. During hour five, he had an erection. Hunter had fallen asleep next to him and couldn’t enjoy the sight.
Dr. Flay did; it was a good sign.
When Cam’s body temperature reached ninety-eight degrees, Flay turned off the heat but left all the blankets on.
Cam was never alone. Eustace cooked; Wood cleaned up. One of them was always in the room, taking turns in a recliner in the corner.
Hunter only got out of the bed to use the bathroom.
Doctor Flay stayed in the guest room, wandered around the penthouse, and found a book to read. At some point during the ninth hour, Cam had transitioned into normal sleep. Deep sleep, to be sure, but medically normal. Until he was fully awake and she could examine him thoroughly, she would stay.
Hart was paying her a thousand dollars an hour. If Cam came through with no deficits, she’d get a very nice bonus.
Ben Trowbridge called Hunter, and they spoke for an hour. Ben relayed Cam’s every action as his son had described them. Including his rescue of Big Hans.
Natani left him alone, which meant she’d taken over the team and preparation of all charges in all four cases and coordination of evidence and reinterviewing witnesses. He’d have to send her some flowers or something. He couldn’t imagine anything less interesting to him at this time than Ferriter.
In the evening, Hunt had been sitting up in Hart’s giant bed with the railroad tie headboard, moving his cell so Eustace could put a plate down for him, when Cam had heaved a great shuddering sigh and rolled over, seeking Hunt under the covers.
Wood jumped out of the chair and grabbed the IV stand before it toppled over. The line was long, but the slack had caught under Cam’s forearm.
The men straightened everything out, and Cam snuggled up to Hunter, one leg over Hunt’s thigh, head on his chest, an arm across Hunter’s waist. Hunt held him with one arm, which left one hand free and a very awkward reach to the end table where the plate of broiled salmon and herbed potatoes and garlic spinach sat.
Wood grinned. “So, Hank, you going to feed him, or should I?”
“How about you put the salmon between bread for me?” Hunt asked.
Eustace left without a word and came back with a rolling bed table. The wheeled portion slid under the bed. He adjusted the tray and angled it so it didn’t touch Cam. The plate, napkin and cutlery were placed on top.
“Would you like wine?”
“DI’ Y’ MAY COTHEY?”
Hunt woke abruptly to morning light. “Cam?”
“Yuh.” Cam rolled onto his back and stretched. Then he came awake with a start, staring at his arm where the needle was taped down. He bolted upright, looking around.
Hunter sat up, taking a firm hold on his arm. “This is Ben’s penthouse at the Coloradan. You were asleep for... um…”
“I make it seventeen hours,” Wood said from the recliner. Into his cell, “He’s awake.”
Cam’s mouth worked. “Wa’er.”
Hunt handed him a glass from his nightstand that was only half full. Cam tossed it back, swishing some around in his mouth. “More.”
“Lay back down, okay?” Hunt pushed gently.
Cam lay back. And looked down his body. And felt himself under the covers.
“It was that or diapers,” Hunter said.
“Brian!” Cam’s memory creaked into gear. “Where’s Brian?”
“Probably home by now. They treated his injuries and observed him for a few hours. His parents insisted, and they went home last night.”
“Is Hans alright?”
Doctor Flay came in and the next half-hour was spent checking readouts and taking blood pressure and making sure Cam knew what year it was. Cam, who was shy in private and sometimes in public, made everyone including Hunter leave the room when she removed the catheter. Cam tried to make her leave, too, saying he’d do it himself, but she was undeterrable.
Hunter took the opportunity to use the head and get some coffee Eustace had set up on the counter in the penthouse kitchen.
“You didn’t actually get married since we saw you this summer, did you?” Wood asked.
Hunter shrugged. “Colorado’s the wild west. We still recognize common-law unions.”
Eustace smirked. “We’ll have to ask Cam about that.”
“Don’t go giving him ideas,” Hunt said. “Did Bertha send strudel?”
“I’m mixing him some juice with an electrolyte replenisher.”
“The strudel’s for me.”
Eustace pointed a spatula at him. “If he sees you eating it, he’ll want some. I’m making pancakes.”
CAM WAS HUNGRY, but his doctor kept him from wolfing down breakfast in quantity. Used to dietary discipline and understanding his stomach could reject it all, he settled for one glass of juice and two small plain pancakes.
As a reward, she removed the IV. “Keep it down, and you can eat again in an hour.”
Cam suggested he didn’t need three armed guards to lie in bed in a luxury fortress. After consulting with their boss on a conference call, it was decided Eustace would staff Cam and the doctor would be available by phone, if Cam agreed to another twenty-four hours of bed-to-chair-only activity. She would be back to check him, then.
Flay left with Wood, and Eustace said he’d go make some food.
Hunter shut the door behind him and found Cam sitting up against his pillows with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You didn’t answer me.”
Hunt was clueless.
“Hans. You didn’t tell me what happened to Hans.”
“Oh. Hang on.” Hunt sat on the edge of the bed, and took his cell from the nightstand where it had been plugged in. “Lon? Hunter. … That’s great to hear. … Yeah, Nugent’s the best we have. … No, he’s fine. Just exhausted. He’d like to know how the dog is.”
Cam searched Hunter’s face for clues to what he was hearing, but Hunt was far too good a poker player to allow an unguarded expression.
“Yeah … yeah. … I’ll let him know. Thanks. And Lonny?” Hunt paused until he was sure he had control of himself. “Good job finding the right tree.” He tapped off.
“What?” Cam asked.
“It’s not skeletal damage; it’s nerve damage. Bones they can set, but he still doesn’t have use of his back legs. They don’t know if that will come back. Cam, he’s old for a big dog. Eight. That’s an average life expect—”
“—No!” Cam grabbed Hunt’s cell and thrust it at him. “You call them back, right now. Nobody’s throwing away Hans because he’s— You call them back. I’ll pay whatever it takes and he’ll come live with me at the A-frame. My property’s flat. They have those wheelchair thi
ngs for dogs now…” He stopped, his face red. Whether from the effort not to weep or the rage he felt, Hunter wasn’t sure.
“I said call!” He shoved the cell into Hunter’s hand.
“I don’t have to call. The Trowbridges are taking him. Mrs. Trowbridge insisted.”
“Oh. … Oh. Okay, then.” Cam relaxed back against the pillows. “I want to pay at least.”
“I talked to Ben before, he wants us for dinner next week. You can work it out with him then.”
“Why didn’t he tell you about Hans?”
Hunter put a hand on top of the blankets over Cam’s thigh. “You were asleep for a long time. A lot happened. Ben called in maybe your fourth hour or something. He didn’t know then. When Brian woke up this morning, he asked his dad to call Avron to check on Hans. Okay?”
Cam nodded. He finished off a bottle of water on the breakfast tray and slid down again. Hunter took the empty bottle.
“I’ll get you more water and find you some more food. Back in a few.”
EUSTACE PUT A SANDWICH in front of Hunter of whole grain bread and cheese and tomato and sprouts of some kind.
“That looks good for me.”
“You eat that, you get strudel.”
“You’re my mommy now?”
“I’ve killed more people than you’ve arrested,” Eustace said. “You want a pickle?”
“I want a burger.”
“You only have five minutes. Mister Hart’s calling.”
“Does it at least have mayonnaise?”
Eustace gave him a rare smile. “Homemade. You want a beer?”
“Please.” Hunt picked it up and took a big bite. It was annoyingly delicious and, as fast as he ate it, exactly what his body was craving.
“Smug is not a good look on you, Hank.”
“Everything looks good on me.”
Hunt’s cell chirped. Eustace retreated into another room to give Hunter privacy.
But the face on the phone was blond and green-eyed, not dark-haired and male. “Avia. I’m expecting a call from your shack-up.”
“I heard that.” It was Benedict Hart’s sonorous bass. Hunt thought if Ben ever went broke, he could make a very nice living doing movie promos. The phone switched hands, and Hart’s face—all planes and angles and deep-set indigo eyes—filled the screen. “An impressive job, Hunter. The governor wants to give you and Cam medals.”
“Well, that would be a fucking disaster.”
“So I told him. The mayor is pressuring him in a not very subtle demand for a reward for finding the child.”
“So the mayor will get political credit from the public by giving a televised award to a celebrity and a cop who are both on his payroll. He wants to be governor.”
“Which I also told the present governor.”
“Cam would never agree to it and neither would I. The press would be all over why Cam was there, the Unit’s cover would be blown, and we’d upstage the people who should get the credit. Come on, Ben.”
“Preaching to the choir. I told Sorrell all of that, and his aide told the mayor’s aide. Now the mayor is scheduling a ceremony to honor the Denver Police Captain in charge of homicide during the investigation.”
“Ruth Teller? Okay. … Just … wait.”
Hunt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had a hold over Teller he wasn’t ready to use. But if the mayor made her a mini-celebrity, no one would thank Hunter Dane for exposing her as corrupt, later on. It would tarnish the homicide bureau and the mayor.
Everyone’s hand was face-up in a game Hunter hadn’t been invited to. An old poker adage came to him: All you need is a chip and a chair.
One chip was what he had.
“I need Avia.”
Avia Rivers was a former investigative reporter for The Week Online. She peeked into the screen over Ben’s shoulder.
“Did you ever make up with J.J.? I need a story in The Week’s online national edition tonight.”
Her face dropped.
“I’ll get it in,” Ben said.
“Avia? I’ll give you two stories to write. Call that slimy aide of the mayor’s, Cowl. Ask him which story the mayor wants to comment on. Get a pencil or whatever. I’ll dictate.”
“Have you ever seen me without my notebook?” She held it up. “Go.”
He did. “ In an heroic effort launched during yesterday’s blizzard, the Jefferson County Sheriffs Office rescued eight-year-old Brian Trowbridge, the latest victim of the Wilderness Killer. Avron Coulter, head of the search and rescue operation, reports the boy was found by Jefferson County Deputy, Alonzo Vargas. A suspect is being held without bond and multiple felony counts are expected to be filed by the Denver District Attorney’s Office within days. ”
“Okay, I got it,” Avia said. “Maybe Ben can get it published, but how will you get them not to bestow honors on their own political asses?”
“That’s the alternate version. Ready?”
“Shoot.”
“Sources close to the investigation revealed that interference from the Denver mayor’s office almost cost the life of eight-year-old Brian Trowbridge, nephew of Colorado Governor Sorrel Lowood, and the latest victim of—”
She laughed. “That’s enough. I’ll take care of it.”
“You oughta make an honest woman outta that girl, Hart,” Hunter said.
“I already gave her ten million dollars. I have to marry her too? Take care of your boy.”
“I will.”
Ben clicked off.
“Sorry,” Avia said. “He had to go do billionairy things. Ben said your Bronco will be on the parking level tomorrow at noon. Hank’ll have your key.”
Hunter blew out a breath. “That’s good of him. Let me guess. Ben has it now but won’t deliver it until tomorrow, since Cam’s not supposed to leave.”
She laughed. “You do know my darling control freak.”
“He’s not dropping a new engine in it this time, is he?”
“Tires, I think. Bye-eeee.”
CAM WAS NAPPING when Hunter got back to the bedroom. Eustace got up from the recliner.
“I’ll be up later to check on you,” Eustace told Hunt quietly. “Text if you need anything. I’ll be in the staff quarters.”
Hunter was familiar with the spacious, garage-level apartment Hart had created for his security officers.
Before he left, Eustace went to a tall tiger maple bureau and removed a pair of silk flannel pajamas and some underwear he placed on the corner of the bed, careful not to wake Cam.
He paused at the door where Hunt waited. “There’s a laundry room on the other side of the kitchen.”
“You’re offering to do my laundry?”
“I’m only staffing Mister Snow. You might like to do yours, though.” With that, he left.
Hunter shut the door.
“Tell me when he’s gone.” Cam was awake.
“You were faking?”
“I thought he might watch porn on his phone or something if I did. I’d catch him being human.”
“He reminds me of you, to be honest,” Hunter said.
“Me? He’s like an android with attitude.”
“And he’d die for either one of us without hesitation.”
“I—” Cam blinked and turned pink. Hunter loved this quality in Cam, that he blushed so easily when not in Dom mode.
“I just really want some privacy with you for a while,” Cam said.
Hunter really wanted Cam to regain his strength. He leaned out the door until he just had a view of the elevator. A minute later, Eustace got on carrying his coat, and the doors closed behind him. Hunt waited until the down arrow went dark.
“Gone,” he told Cam.
“Get this stuff off the bed or wear it yourself. I’m betting that door”—he pointed to one that wasn’t the bathroom door—“leads to Hart’s dressing room. See if you can find me some sweats and a tee that weren’t spun by golden worms in an enchanted garden.”
Hunter grinn
ed. He checked the bureau first, then went inside the huge closet on a trek through the billionaire’s sartorial treasures. He came back and tossed Cam a white tee and sweats that looked like normal ones and felt like the enchanted worms earned a bonus. He put the pajamas and underwear neatly away.
Cam sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Hunt took up a station next to him.
“I’m allowed to go to a chair,” Cam grumped at him.
“You can put the shirt on sitting there, first.”
So Cam stood up.
Hunter caught him as he swayed and lowered him to the bed.
Cam looked at the wall. “I hate this shit.”
“I know.” Hunt handed him the white undershirt to put on and went to his knees to get the sweats over his feet. He worked the pants to mid-thigh and straightened up. “You just went too fast last time. Hands on my shoulders. Stand up slowly, and I'll take care of the sweats.”
Cam nodded. When he was upright, Hunter closed his arms around Cam and nuzzled the smooth skin where his neck met his shoulder.
Cam leaned into him. “What happened to pulling up the sweats?”
“Anything you want.” Hunter reached down inside the elastic waistband. He worked the sweats up little by little, moving from front to back. His hand glided over Cam’s warm skin, across his firm heat.
Heat.
Hunter looked down. “Maybe you should lie down again.”
Cam’s head went back, his eyes went cold and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Maybe you should come with me.”
Hunter certainly hoped so.
LAST THINGS:
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THE HUNT&CAM4EVER (BDSM EROTICA) MYSTERY SERIES: Matchstick Men, Dancing Men, Snowed In, Psychic Men, Secret Men, Fractured Men
Hunt and Cam’s origin and earlier cases. Only on Amazon, all Kindle Unlimited.