by Jay Hogan
To his surprise, Michael had become an immediate fanboy. He’d never been into flamboyant guys particularly, but there was something about Cameron that had him flirting shamelessly. He’d even pushed his luck with the nurse once, to test the waters, see if the guy might be interested, only to find his balls perilously close to mincemeat in the nurse’s hands. Since then the two had developed a mutual respect and friendship that Michael wouldn’t trade.
The nurse leaned against the wall, studying him.
“What?”
Cameron smirked. “You like him.”
“Who?”
“Him.” Cameron flicked his head toward the ER exit doors.
“He’s an asshole.”
“You two should get along just fine, then.”
“Fucker.”
Cameron grinned and pushed off the wall, running a finger down the side of Michael’s face. “Aw, poor baby.”
Michael glared. “How is it you can touch me whenever you want, and I get my balls crunched if I even think of returning the favour?”
“Because, my darling man—” Cam patted Michael’s cheek. “—I have no desire to fuck you in a million years. The same, however, cannot be said for you, and I’m obliged to protect my virtue.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re a damn tease.”
Cameron chuckled. “But you love me. Now go home and get some sleep.” He patted Michael on the arm and sashayed toward the depths of the ER.
BACK IN his vehicle, Josh called in Oliver’s description of the knifeman to Mark Knight, his best friend and lead detective on the case. Then he transferred his notes to his on-board laptop and turned to Paris. “Home time, mate.” The shepherd regarded him with sleepy eyes before collapsing on his side, causing Josh to yawn in sympathy. His partner had only suffered a minor nick and the paramedics had cleaned it and pronounced it fine at the scene, but Josh would still get Paris to the police vet tomorrow, just to be sure.
Driving by the entrance to the ER, he saw Michael Oliver waiting at the taxi rank. Fuck. The guy’s car was probably still back at the club. He did his best to ignore the niggle of guilt as he drove past, but an image of the man on his knees beside a bleeding Jackson ramped it up. Shit. He hung a U-turn and pulled in alongside the irritating man.
To say the man seemed surprised put it mildly.
He dropped the passenger window and leaned across. “Where are you heading?”
Oliver hesitated a second before answering. “Eastern Bays.”
Josh nodded. “It’s on my way. Get in.”
Oliver hesitated. “Get in? You’re offering me a ride?” he clarified. “Did I miss a blue moon or something?”
Josh bit back a smile and shrugged. “Consider it thanks for Jackson, nothing more.”
“Well, okay. Great. Thank you.” He slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, filling the car with that seductive smell of oranges and spice, albeit with a slight antiseptic tinge. “Have to say I’m surprised.” He looked amused. “Wouldn’t have thought helping me out would’ve been high on your to-do list.”
Josh kept his attention ahead. “Just being polite.”
The man snorted. “Right.”
Paris repositioned himself inside his cage, and Oliver turned at the sound. “Hey there, fella,” he spoke softly to the shepherd. “You get a good workout tonight?”
Paris replied with a soft whine. Traitor. The dog was a sucker for a compliment. “So where to?” Josh asked.
“Boulder Drive, 15D. You can drop me at the corner with Huntingdon if you like.”
“Suits me.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way, something Josh was thankful for. He dropped the doctor right outside his apartment building and not at the end of the street as the man suggested.
Oliver made no comment. Instead, he turned to Josh with something approaching a friendly expression. “Look, I know we got off to a bad start, but I don’t suppose you’d be interested—”
“Nope.” Josh’s expression cooled.
Oliver frowned. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
Josh shrugged. “Don’t have any feelings about you.”
“Right. You didn’t like me from the minute you met me, yet you know nothing about me.”
Josh’s gaze slid away. “I know enough.”
Oliver snorted. “Really? I’m impressed. How the rest of us mere mortals cope with having to actually get to know someone before shitting on them is a damn miracle, then.”
The man had a point. Josh knew he was being a dick. “You done?”
Oliver sighed. “Whatever. Thanks for the lift, I guess.” He pushed open the passenger door.
“Look,” Josh blurted. “It’s nothing personal. You’re just not my type.”
Oliver’s eyes dipped to Josh’s lap, then back up. “Uh-huh. Right,” he quipped with a smirk. “Not interested. Got it.”
The man left the car and headed up his drive, and Josh thumped his fist on the steering wheel in self-disgust. Nope. Absolutely not interested, absolutely not watching the man’s arse as he left, with his own dick absolutely not fucking rigid in his pants.
Paris whined.
“And I don’t need your damn opinion either,” Josh grumbled. Fuck.
“DADDY!”
Josh rolled to his side and hauled the sheet over his morning wood just seconds before his daughter hit the bed, closely followed by Paris. The two were never far apart. The shepherd took one look at Josh’s scowl and slid to the foot of the bed, curling into an instant ball.
“I can still see you, you know,” Josh growled. The shepherd’s ears drooped, and he dug his nose under the blanket.
“Let him stay, Daddy, please?” No one threw a pout quite like his daughter. Paris opened a hopeful eye, then immediately closed it when he saw Josh still staring his way.
Josh sighed and glanced at the clock. 7:00 a.m. Damn, he was tired. “Okay, he can stay for a bit.” He cupped Sasha’s face. “Hey, you. What have I said about knocking first?”
She frowned. “But Jase isn’t here anymore, and it’s just you, so no sex, right?”
Holy shit. Josh had always been open with Sasha about being gay, but she rarely made such direct comments. He’d been out since she was six months old, so basically she’d never known any different. There’d been no big sit-down explanation—he’d simply added in conversations and information as he felt she was old enough to understand. His few gay friends such as Mark had always been a part of her life, and Josh had schooled them on what was appropriate for his daughter to see and hear along the way.
“That’s true,” he answered, keeping his tone as even as he could. “But it’s not just about sex. I need privacy, just like you.”
Sasha considered that for a minute before answering. “Okay.” She dragged Paris’s head onto her lap. “Is it bad?” she asked, fingering the bandage on the dog’s shoulder. “Did he do good?”
Josh scratched the animal’s chin. “He always does good, honey. But last night the bad guy got away. It’s a small knife cut, nothing serious.”
Sasha pursed her lips. “Damn it.”
“Language,” Josh warned with a smile. “That’s twenty cents in the swear jar before netball.”
She sighed and patted his hand indulgently. “Okay. But I’m not promising I don’t swear at school. I won’t be a Goody Two-shoes. It’s not a good look.”
He bit back a laugh. “I get that.”
Sasha shuffled off the bed. “Just so you know.” She disappeared to her room, and two seconds later, Paris and his bushy tail swished out the door to join her.
HIS SISTER, Katie, eyed his postshower appearance with alarm as she put a mound of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. The smell elicited a loud rumble from his stomach.
“Hate to think what you looked like before. What time did you finally roll in?”
Josh rubbed the stubble on his chin, debating whether his decision to forgo a shave that morning had been a good one.
“Gone two, I think. Did I wake you?”
“Not on your life.” She flicked her long blond hair off her face and patted his hand. “It takes more than that to wake this piece of gorgeousness.”
A willowy blond firecracker of a woman, at thirty-two Katie was four years younger than Josh. Full of sass and grit, Josh couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been snapped up years ago. Because she spends all her spare time looking after you, idiot.
It was true. Katie had rented a house less than six houses away from the small weatherboard bungalow Josh owned. It had been a deliberate decision on his sister’s part, so she could help cover Josh’s work shifts without either of them needing to drive a long distance. She was crucial to the smooth running of his household, a fact that worried him no end. They needed to be more self-reliant, but it was too easy when Katie was right there. The debt Josh owed his sister was immeasurable, and he wasn’t sure he could ever repay it.
“I have to swing by the vet on the way to netball, so if you can take Sasha with you, I’ll see you there,” he said, chewing on a piece of toast.
“No problem.”
“And thanks again for staying over,” he added. “I know it was short notice. Hope I didn’t screw up any plans.”
“Nah. My hot date cancelled.”
His eyes popped. “Really?”
She shook her head at him in disbelief. “No, idiot. God, you are so easy.” She shovelled a forkful of eggs into her mouth.
Sasha appeared at the table, shepherd in tow, and eyed her plate of pancakes with obvious delight. “Yum.”
“How come she gets pancakes and I just get eggs?” he grumbled.
“Because she isn’t getting podgy round the middle.”
He patted his stomach. “I’ll have you know this is all muscle.”
Katie snorted. “Right.”
They ate in silence for a time. Sasha finished and went to get ready for netball. Josh tried to remember the last day off he’d been able to have an actual sleep-in. Nothing came to mind.
“Busy night, I take it?” Katie asked, finishing the last of her eggs.
Josh nodded, mouth full. “Drug raid on a bar.”
“Which one?”
“Downtown G.”
“The gay bar?” Katie sounded surprised.
Josh nodded.
“See anyone you know?”
“Nah.”
Katie was quiet for a bit. The type of quiet that let you know she was building up to something. “You should go there one night. You haven’t been out in ages. Be good for you.”
And there it was. “Katie—”
“Just hear me out, okay?” She leaned her back against the bench and eyeballed him.
He sighed. “Get on with it, then.”
“I worry about you. There, I’ve said it. You’ve been like a monk since Jase.”
“I have a kid—”
“And? Look, I just want you to have some fun. You’re a great dad, the best, but you deserve some playtime, a bit of loving or even just some mind-blowing sex, shit, any sex for that matter. You’re as cranky as hell and don’t think she doesn’t notice.” Katie flicked her head toward Sasha’s room.
Josh sighed. “I know. I’ll do better, okay? I just… I just can’t go there at the moment. And I’m not discussing my sex life with my sister. Or lack of it as it happens. As if I don’t feel enough of a sad fuck already.”
Katie walked over and pulled him into a hug. He let her hold him for a while, the warmth of the physical contact too damn nice to give up. Fuck. He really did need to get laid. And with that, Michael Oliver popped into his head.
It wasn’t rocket science. He knew why the guy pushed his buttons. Oliver might be gorgeous, but he was just another Jase, another arrogant man whore who wouldn’t know commitment if it bitch-slapped him in the face and didn’t care who he hurt in the process of getting his dick on as often as possible. Josh wasn’t about to be hurt like that again.
They’d met at a party. At six foot two with shoulder-length black hair and physically muscled from his job as a builder, Jason was a striking-looking man. He was laid-back, fun, flirtatious, addicted to Snickers bars and glam rock, and, as it later turned out, allergic to monogamy. In many ways they’d been complete opposites, but they seemed to work, at least Josh had thought so. And Sasha and Jason had hit it off from day one. He was just another big kid in lots of ways. That should have been a warning in itself.
Then, after two years living together, Josh discovered Jason cheating on him. And when confronted, the fucker owned up to multiple hookups throughout their relationship. Josh had been devastated. Within hours, Jason had packed up and left and Sasha had been distraught. First her mother had abandoned her and then Jason.
Jason had agreed to keep in contact with Sasha as she adjusted to the split, and even after two years, he still made an effort, though she needed it less. Josh had remained polite but tried to keep out of the man’s way, except for that one time, but he wasn’t going there again.
MICHAEL’S MORNING didn’t go exactly as he hoped. It began with morning wood dancing single-mindedly to the image of one supremely irritating dog handler. Goddammit. The guy was a class-A jerk and Michael had decided before even hitting the sack that he wasn’t going to waste any more headspace on the prick. The man had a stick up his ass for no better reason than Michael picking up a little fun in a club. Well, fuck that. He was gay. It went with the territory. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. Been there. Done that. Fucking disaster.
The two years he’d spent with Simon had ended as a complete fuck-up. He’d learned his lesson and he now kept his “relationships” to the hit-it-and-quit-it variety or at the most, an occasional more regular fuck buddy. Which only served to remind Michael that he’d left the club last night as frustrated as he’d entered. Another thing to be pissed about.
Simon. Shit. He thought he’d put that one to bed already. But the man had been coming up more frequently in his thoughts lately, accompanied by an unexpected twinge of unwelcome guilt. Did he miss the guy? Yeah, he could accept that. Or at least he missed the easy company they’d shared. They worked at the same hospital, Simon as a gastroenterologist. So, his ex had known about the NZ contract and had been surprisingly supportive of Michael’s decision.
Simon was one of the good ones, too good for Michael as it turned out. He’d genuinely loved Michael, made that abundantly clear, but for whatever reason, Michael had never been able to return the words, and Simon had never pressed. They’d gotten on well and fitted easily into each other’s lives, understanding of the long hours and stress of their respective jobs. The sex had been fine if not earth-shattering, and if it hadn’t been for Michael’s giant cock-up eighteen months before, well, who knew what might have happened.
But when the shit hit the fan, Simon’s persistent, ever-so-patient understanding and attempts to get Michael to talk about it eventually drove Michael to shut him out completely. Then he’d driven the point home with a very indiscreet fuck in a club that Simon had walked in on. They’d split, no surprise there, and Michael had got his shit together while Simon had gone on to find someone else. He seemed happy, and Michael was genuinely pleased for him.
Michael was lucky, and he knew it. He didn’t have to work too hard to hook up with practically anyone he wanted, and he certainly didn’t need to be obsessing about some hot fucking dog handler. So his pride had taken a dent, so what? Kick it to the kerb and move on. Forget the sexy cop and enjoy the first day off he’d had in two weeks. First, he needed to collect his car and get that damn statement out of the way.
Not so easy as it turned out. According to the man at the station, his car was firmly locked behind crime scene tape for at least another day. Now his weekend was fucked. Still, it could have been worse. Truth was Michael was more rattled than he wanted to admit about the previous night. Stitching a knife wound was vastly different from witnessing the actual attack, and reading about a drug bust was preferable to being in t
he middle of one. Neither were things Michael wanted to revisit.
At least he’d finished his statement. It took two hours, but he was out of the cold, which was no small thing. November aside, the chill of the brisk southwest winds direct from Antarctica had sent spring temperatures in Auckland plummeting to midwinter levels so inside was good. The modern central station with its large glass windows had a stunning harbour view, and the detective taking his statement was certainly no slouch in the looks department either. He counted that a win.
Michael signed his statement, then dropped his pen on the table. “I told the other guy all this last night.” He ran his gaze over the eye candy that was Detective Mark Knight.
Knight grinned. “Officer Rawlins, you mean?”
“If that’s the dog guy.” Michael failed to keep the sneer from his voice.
Knight’s grin widened. “That would be him. I take it you two didn’t hit it off?”
The man’s gaze dipped to Michael’s lips for a brief second, and Michael looked at him sideways. The detective had a charming smile and solid, handsome features even if neither quite matched up to the handler. The handler, who’d apparently been telling tales out of school. Fucker.
“Wasn’t looking to make friends,” he answered glibly.
Knight snorted. “Just as well. Josh isn’t much into clubbing, as you probably guessed. Been a while since I’ve got him out to the G. Anyway, we’re done here for now. We’ll need you to come back in to look at some photos, see if you can firm up an ID on the guy in the bar. I’ll let you know a time.”
Michael nodded and turned to leave, almost running into an older, balding guy blocking the doorway. They locked eyes.
“You’re the doctor from the bar last night, right?” the man asked.
“Yes.” Michael glanced at Mark, who nodded briefly at the newcomer before introducing them. John Stables was apparently the area commander.