Murder and Mayhem (17 page)

“Here. Take these.” Dante held out a glass of water in one hand and a pair of pills in the other.

Swallowing hurt nearly as much as sitting up, but Rook welcomed the quenching chill of the water going down his throat. Handing Dante the water, he flopped back down on the bed, tensing when Dante slid in behind him.

“You going to be here when I wake up?” Dante moved in close, pulling Rook back until they were spooned chest to back.

“Yeah.” Rook sighed. “Sure.”

“That as much of a lie as you not knowing it was me back then in the club?” Dante’s breath was hot on Rook’s neck, as scalding as the pain ratcheting up his back and over his ribs.

“What makes you think it was a lie?” Rook whispered. He’d told no one about seeing the detective that night. Told no one of how he’d wanted Dante Montoya since the first time he’d laid eyes on the cop bent on taking him down. And if there was one thing he knew how to do besides slither in and out of a place without anyone knowing he was there, it was lie.

“Because you’ve done nothing but lie to me since I first laid eyes on you, Rook.” Dante pulled the duvet up over them, settling the linens against their bodies. “But no more. I want the truth from you from now on out. I don’t lie to you. You don’t lie to me.”

“Got it, Montoya.” The pills were kicking in, and Rook nearly wept as the pain leeched out of his body. “Sure. Whatever.”

“And one more thing.” Dante pulled him back, then rubbed his knuckles over Rook’s cheek. “You call me Dante. If it’s good enough to say when you’re coming, it’s good enough to say when you’re talking to me. Now get some sleep. And you better be here when I wake up, because we’ve got one more condom, and I intend to use it.”

Dante knew the moment Rook surfaced from his dreams. There was no mistaking it. As Los Angeles screamed along its merry little way, shut out by thick curtains across the hotel’s soundproofed windows, Rook’s skin began to hum beneath Dante’s hand.

It was as if he’d stuck his fingers into a fast-moving current, a stream of energy catching on the ridges of his fingers and palm. There was no change in the man’s breathing, not a shivering flicker of lashes over his cut-glass cheekbones, but something
intangible
fired on inside of Rook’s being, and Dante wondered if his hand would cook beneath the buzz slithering through Rook’s nerves.

He took a chance and kissed the nape of Rook’s neck, taking a moment to catch his teeth on the fine hairs there before pulling slightly away, waiting for Rook to respond.

There was nothing big at first, nothing overt, but there was a skipping pulse under Dante’s wrist where he’d laid his arm over Rook’s uninjured shoulder and over his chest, the quick stamp of a heartbeat caught up in its own excitement.

“I can
feel
you thinking, Rook,” Dante whispered, nibbling on Rook’s earlobe until he got a hissing response. “Don’t pretend you’re sleeping. What do you think is going to happen if you don’t wake up?”

“Like you’d have the good manners to sneak out and pretend nothing happened between us.”

Typical Rook. Shove away. Deflect, then stab Dante with a hint of something soft and longing beneath the bravado. He didn’t rise to the bait. Instead Dante found the spot on Rook’s ear he’d discovered last night and delicately blew on it.

“Stop that. It tickles, and I hurt when I laugh.” Rook moved slowly under him, too carefully for Dante’s liking. “God, I fucking hurt everywhere. Wasn’t like this a couple of hours ago when I got up to piss and brush my teeth. Shit, it was only a damned Ford speck.”

“That speck was enough to bruise you something fierce. It’s time for another round of pills.” He was about to pull back when Rook dug his fingers into Dante’s thigh. “What? No?”

“No.” Rook shook his head, twisting slightly in Dante’s embrace until his shoulders rested on the arm Dante slung underneath him. “I don’t like what they do to me. Make me all fuzzy. I’ve got to watch my wits when I’m around you, Montoya.” He hitched his breath once, then murmured, “Dante.”

“I’d rather have you fuzzy than in pain. How about some ibuprofen?” Rook’s subtle nod spilled his chestnut hair over Dante’s arm, and he tugged at a lock as he slipped off the bed. “Wait here.”

He was mildly amused to find Rook still there, in bed, waiting for him.

With the sun in full possession of the sky, the ambient light creeping out from under the room’s curtains was more than enough to illuminate the space. Their clothes were everywhere, and neither one of them had given a second thought to the couch lying on its back in the middle of the room. Sofa cushions were scattered across the carpet, and Dante was nearly certain it was his underwear dangling from one of the sconces hanging above the headboard. It was a scene best used to illustrate a rock star’s enfant terrible behavior.

Or the aftermath of two men finally giving in to something larger than either one of them wanted to admit.

Like the room, Rook looked worse for wear but still too damned expensive for Dante’s budget. His faint injuries from the car were now full-blown bruises, and the gunshot wound lay bare and naked in the faint light. The stitched-up flap looked raw, too pink for Dante’s liking, and he tenderly touched the skin around the area, testing it for heat.

“They shot me full of shit twice last night. Antibiotics or something. Shit, they could have given me bubonic plague for all I know. Who checks that shit for them? Kind of dangerous if you think about it. One guy with a needle wandering the halls, looking for someone to fuck up.”

Rook gulped down the pills, following them with a mouthful of water. Dante took the water glass from him, and Rook fell back into the tangled sheets, his arms spread out about him.

“Are you heading out to fight crime with Camden the Ginger Wonder, or do I have to share the bed again?”

It was the closest thing Dante was ever going to get out of Rook in the way of asking him to come back to bed, but Dante took it.

“Day off today, but I’ll be running some things down. Like your friend, the Pigeon.” He climbed onto the bed, tucking his hand under Rook’s hip, lifting him easily aside so he could slide in next to him. “And I’ve already talked to Hank and my uncle Manny. I left things with him… half-done, but he said it turned out all right. Move over.”

They were still naked, and from the tender way Rook moved his legs to let Dante under him, he knew the other condom was going to remain on the nightstand where he’d left it. It didn’t matter. He was more interested in hearing the man… breathe and talk. For now at least. But Rook seemed unsettled, shifting as Dante pulled the covers up over them.

“Come closer,” Dante ordered softly, and for a moment he thought Rook would resist. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

That moment came quickly enough when Rook’s jaw set. Then more resistance trailed after it in Rook’s soft grumble. “You know, you and me—we’re a really fucking bad idea. I should just go—”

“Yeah, as bad decisions go, you’re definitely one of the worst—and best—I’ve made.” Dante propped himself up onto an elbow so he could see Rook’s face. “We both knew it was going to get to this. You’re lying to yourself if you say it wasn’t.”

“No, I only lie to other people.” His laugh was touched with a tincture of bitterness, but Rook gave Dante a rueful smile. “If it hadn’t been for Dani showing up dead on my floor, we never would have ended up here.”

“From what little I know about you, I can safely say you’re trouble enough that I’d have ended up on your doorstep no matter what, Stevens,” he teased. “Now, come here. You know you want to.”

He could see it in the man’s oddly beautiful eyes and the set of his full mouth, but then as slowly as he’d eased into the bed, Rook slid up against Dante’s body, leaning into the crook of his outflung arm.

Pulling the covers up, Dante waited until the tenseness left Rook’s body before moving his arm down to cradle Rook back against his chest. Nearly a minute passed before Rook’s shoulders loosened, and Dante felt, rather than heard, the soft sigh when Rook finally let go.

It was odd lying next to a naked man, their cocks soft and vulnerable, silken velvet between their thighs. Rook’s skin was warm, healthy, and firm to Dante’s touch, and he explored the planes of his lover’s stomach, tracing out the muscles he found there. There were tender spots, unseen because of the duvet covering them, but all Dante had to do was close his eyes to find the memory of Rook’s body burned into his mind. He knew where to avoid, mostly the lower edge of Rook’s left side and then under his right shoulder blade. His arm was tender from the shot, but from what Dante could tell, Rook soldiered on past that pain.

The slice across his cheek seemed barely worth mentioning, especially after Dante’d kissed it after they’d collapsed, and Rook mocked him for being soft.

Lying next to Rook Stevens was akin to trying to take a nap on a bed of nails. A lot of practice, a seemingly futile exercise, but once accomplished, a sliver of nirvana from its mastery.

Not that he considered himself a master in Rook Stevens. Not by a long shot. Hell, the only reason Dante knew Rook’d gotten pleasure the night before was because he’d been there when the man surrendered his control, splattering them both with the sticky gush of his release.

He waited a heartbeat, then another before speaking again. “After all the times I’ve seen you run away, I was surprised to see you stay,
cuervo
.”

“Yeah, don’t get too used to it, Montoya. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” Rook glanced over his shoulder. “Really? Nothing? Jesus, you have
got
to watch the damned movie.”

“
Dante
.”

Rook took a second, then murmured, “Dante. You’re woefully ignorant of pop culture.”

“Yeah, I don’t get to watch a lot of television and movies. Most of my time’s spent on my house or trying to find people who kill other people.” He kept stroking at Rook’s skin, reveling in the soft flush of pink he brought to Rook’s cheeks. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“God, you are such a chick.”

“Pretty sure with what I did to you last night, I’m not.” He slid his hand down and brushed at the nest of curls above Rook’s dick. “And a true man is one who can talk to his lover. Anyone can be all macho and hide behind a wall of silence. You want a real man? Find one who’ll say the scary things and try to work them out. A man faces fear. He doesn’t swallow it and then choke on his pride when it goes down the wrong way.”

“What fortune cookie did you pull that out of?” Rook snorted. “Really, life’s not a Disney movie. There’s no wacky sidekick—despite what you think about Charlene—and there sure as hell isn’t any fairy godmother.”

“My uncle Manny told me that. In a lot of ways he’s kind of my fairy godfather.” Dante tweaked Rook’s nipple lightly, mimicking what he’d done with his teeth a few hours before. “He’d like you. He likes lost causes and broken boys. God knows he surrounded himself with enough of them.”

“I’m not broken.” The assertion was quiet but strong, a thread of hot steel cloaked behind the velvet purr of Rook’s voice. “Don’t mistake me not giving a shit about other people as being broken. There’s nothing
wrong
with me because I’m different from you.”

“You run, Rook. Every time it looks like someone’s getting close to you, you rabbit.” Dante tightened his hold on the man, and as if on cue, Rook tensed up to push away. He held Rook tighter, refusing to let go, keeping his breath shallow when Rook remained on edge but in his arms. “Don’t you get sick of running? Don’t you get tired of always having to look over your shoulder? What’s so hard about just… staying?”

“Because everyone wants something, Montoya.” Rook’s breath was a hot, slithering wind over Dante’s bare arm. “No one does anything without a reason—”

“Even your grandfather? Man seems to be chasing after you like his head’s on fire, trying to keep up.”

“Fuck,
especially
my grandfather.” He shifted on the bed, finding a comfortable spot, but Rook’s muscled ass ground into Dante’s crotch, sliding his dick into Rook’s cleft. “See? Right there. Even you.”

“Your ass practically gave my dick a cheek job.” Dante sank his teeth into Rook’s shoulder, letting go when he heard a small yelp of surprise. “Just because you make me hard, doesn’t mean I’m going to roll you over and fuck you. Not now. Tell me why you run from your grandfather. And yeah, he’s a mean old man, but he’s your mean old man. From what I can tell, he cares about you. Maybe even loves you.”

“He sees me as a way to fuck over my cousins. They’re idiots. I’ll give him that. Well, not Alex, but he’s gone and said fuck you to the old man in his own way. Owns a comic book shop. Apparently that’s worse than what I do, but go figure.” Rook grumbled at Dante’s exploratory fingers over his ribs. “You want me to talk to you, or do you want to fuck, because this whole touchy-feely only can happen verbally or physically. I can’t do both.”

“So no chewing gum and walking at the same time?” Dante teased.

“Hard to talk when my dick is hard enough to cut a diamond.” He hissed softly. “Shit, I’m still on the hook for that diamond Dani had on her.”

“Did she find it in your place? And be honest. Did you have it there, and was she walking out with it?”

“I haven’t seen that thing in fucking years, Dante. There’s no way in hell my prints are on it. I never touched the damned thing with my bare hands when I had it to
begin
with. And that’s not a confession.” Rook struggled to turn around, and Dante loosened his hold so Rook could face him. “Statute on that job is almost up if I’m counting from when you guys walked away from the case. It’s one of the last damned things hanging over me, and I’ve worked too fucking hard to get free. I’m not going to let Dani or whoever else is fucking with me screw it up.”

“I’m not going to take it as one,” Dante assured. “But if I’m going to catch who’s killing your… past associates, then I’m going to have to know how you’re connected to them. Good distraction, though. Moving on to the diamond instead of your grandfather. I’ve got to give you that.”