Les blanched at hearing the doctor’s name. Velez was old enough to be Les’ father, and Les had been treated by the man before—many times. He was one of the few doctors still on staff here who’d know about Les’ childhood, how fucked up it’d been for years. “He the only doc on hand?”
Josh cut him a glance but didn’t ask any questions, for which Les was grateful. “No, but he’s the best, and he will load you up with a bunch of good drugs and release you unless you have pneumonia, so I figure he’s who needs to see you.”
Les grunted again and gave in to the lethargy pulling at him. He laid back and
dragged his legs up onto the bed, disgusted at how weak he felt. “Velez is fine, then.” Les closed his eyes and tried to relax at least a little as Josh began examining him, slapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm.
“Very nice,” Josh purred. Les cracked an eye open to find Josh giving him a teasing leer as he stroked Les’ biceps. “You must work out a lot.”
“When I can.” Les closed his eye again and promptly began coughing, which was a
workout in itself. At this rate his abs were going to hurt like hell. “So how’s things going for you and…” that asshole, “Nick?” Les asked to distract himself from his misery.
“Oh, well, we…it’s…ah.”
Les opened both eyes this time to peer at Josh. The man sounded unhappy. If Nick
had done anything to hurt the little guy, Les would have a nice long chat with Nick. And he’d try not to knock the man’s teeth out. Maybe. “You need me to—”
“No!” Josh shook his head so hard Les thought he could hear the wind whipping
through Josh’s hair. “No, it isn’t like that. We’re good, it’s just…well, he had this friend in Montana, see, and…”
By the time Josh was done complaining about Nick’s friend Adam, Les was almost
sorry he’d asked how things were going for Josh in the first place. He scrubbed at his sweaty brow and wished Doc Velez would hurry the fuck up. Trying to organise the info dump from Josh, Les peeked under his palm at the nurse. “So this guy, Adam, was a friend of Nick’s, nothing more, and he—Adam—beat up a would be rapist, then helped put the pervert in jail, and now the perv’s rich daddy has pretty much run this Adam out of town and he needs a place to stay—”
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“And his mother,” Josh interrupted, shaking his head, “don’t forget his mother, too.
Both of them were evicted from their apartments.”
That alone made Les shudder. He couldn’t imagine having to live with his mother.
“And Nick asked you if they could stay in your old apartment until the lease is up?”
Josh nodded. “Yeah, which, I mean, we’re living at the ranch now, just moved last weekend, but…I don’t know about having the guy down here.”
Les could see Josh’s point, but he also thought Josh was missing a very important one himself. “Josh, Adam sounds like he was a good friend to Nick, nothing more. Unless you think Nick lied about them never fucking.”
Josh blushed adorably as he wrote something down on Les’ chart. “No, I trust Nick, and I know he didn’t have sex with Adam. I was his first man and I’ll be the last, too.” Josh winked and Les wished vehemently that he were somewhere else. “Anyway, it’s just that Adam’s so… Well, he’s really hot, all blond and petite and smart and strong enough to take on a rapist—”
Les was caught on the petite part, trying to figure out what that meant coming from Josh, who wasn’t exactly a burly giant. Josh was petite, at least to Les, so he couldn’t imagine this Adam guy except as some prepubescent angelic little boy, which was, frankly, disturbing. Still, he realised Josh was bouncing through a bout of insecurity which just seemed wrong. Josh was always happy and laughing and just…just Josh.
Les had no idea how to reassure Josh that he wasn’t any less attractive than Adam was. Playing the part of the shrink wasn’t Les’ thing; he preferred to deal with tangible things not emotions and feelings and all the crap that went on in a person’s head. Give him action and deeds any time over this stuff.
Luckily for him, Dr. Velez came into the room before Les had time to figure out what to say to Josh. He tried to keep his sigh of relief silent but Josh cut him an amused glance and mouthed, “You wuss.” Les gave a nod of agreement. He’d rather tackle an armed assailant than delve into the potential mess brewing in Josh’s life.
“Teach you to ask how things are going for me,” Josh muttered teasingly several
minutes later as he drew up a shot. “Now turn over and drop trou so I can make you feel all better.” Josh’s cheeks turned dark and his eyes shot wide open as he slapped a hand to his EX’S AND O’S
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mouth. “I swear, I didn’t mean…” he muttered between his fingers, the blush spreading to the roots of his hair and down onto his neck.
Les figured his own flush was buried under that of the fever’s, and even if it wasn’t, surely Josh wouldn’t have been able to know the truth for it. Les was shocked to the tips of his toes and didn’t know if it was him hallucinating because he was sick or if he really did feel a tidal wave of desire rise and crash in him at the idea of rolling over for another man.
Either way, his dick was trying its best to firm up as Les shifted onto his side, turning his back to Josh. Angry at his body betraying him—again—Les shoved away the threatening arousal and unfastened his uniform pants, shoving them and his underwear down enough to bare his hip.
Maybe he’d be lucky and the shot would hurt like hell and stun some sense into him.
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Ideally, Les wouldn’t be sick at all, but since he was and there were already other officers out sick before he became ill, Les couldn’t get time off work unless he was pretty much dying. Because he had felt so miserable, he’d taken the medicines he’d been prescribed instead of trying to tough it out. Now he was kind of thinking he should have read the information pamphlets that came with each prescribed drug. He was feeling a little fuzzy-headed. Maybe he should call Chief Ewers and see if he thought it might be best for Les to stay right here, parked where he often waited to catch speeders, at least until whichever drug it was that was making him feel weird wore off.
Les rubbed his temple. He should have been more careful. He just hated being sick and—the flashing numbers on the radar readout caught his attention. Maybe he was in worse shape than he thought, because he was afraid he might just be hallucinating. Les glanced at the readout again. Yep, the beat up Honda was rocketing down the highway at a good twenty miles over the speed limit. And it had Montana plates. No matter how
medicinally high he was, the cop in him was still as astute as ever.
This could be interesting. Les couldn’t deny he was anticipating pulling the car over, or, more to the point, putting the fear of God—or at least himself—into the man who was the cause of Josh’s bout of insecurity. It was petty and kind of bullyish, and normally Les wouldn’t give in to such impulses, but it seemed that whatever medicine was making him feel kind of off was also sending some of his baser impulses floating all too closely to the surface.
Les grinned as he gassed the Charger—he loved the new cruisers the department had sprung for—and hit the switches for the lights and sirens. The car jetted from the thatch of shrubs that hid it so well in the darkness. He knew the second he was spotted, or his sirens were heard, because the Honda’s brake lights glowed and the car jerked slightly to the left as if the driver were startled before the vehicle was eased to the shoulder of the road.
“Treasure State, my ass,” Les snorted, reading the motto on the licence plate as he pulled the cruiser up behind the Honda. He entered the plate numbers into the DMV
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database and snickered when the name Adam Edwin Masterson came up. Edwin. Well,
Leslie sure didn’t have anything to laugh about there, and his amusement died under a shocking swell of heat that seemed to burst from Les’ insides when Adam’s licence popped up on the screen.
Les’ first thought was,
Well, holy fuck, no wonder Josh was feeling a little insecure.
His second was that the drugs must have really fried his brain or something because he could not be getting a goddamn woody from looking at Adam’s spectacularly hot licence picture. And who even had a licence picture like that? Christ, Les looked like a pissed off psycho in his.
He’d barely got to step on the red tape before the lady behind the DMV counter had snapped his picture. After having stood in line for two hours, Les had been irritated to put it mildly, and the scowl on his face had been captured before he had a chance to think about trying to look like something less than an axe murderer in mid rampage.
And now he was irritated all over again by his body’s weird reaction to Adam’s
picture. The guy looked like a blond god, his face all big eyes and sharp angles. Small, full lips were stretched into a grin that promised they’d feel like heaven wrapped around Les’
dick and—
“God damn it!” Les snarled, wondering just what was in the shots Josh had given him.
Did they make Viagra in a liquid form? His cock was so hard he ached to the tops of his thighs. His guts felt tight, hot, knotted with need. It had to be a side effect from the medicine, it had to. Nothing else made any sense.
Les shoved open his door and barrelled out of the cruiser, his heavy boots slapping against the loose rocks at the side of the road. He pulled his Maglite off his hip and turned it on as he approached the vehicle, aiming the beam at the driver’s window. The window was lowered slowly, the driver jostling a bit in a manner that told Les the guy didn’t have automatic windows. An odd ripple skimmed over him as he stared at one Adam Edwin
Masterson. Les’ throat went dry as big blue eyes squinted against the strong beam of the flashlight. He wanted to growl when one pale elegant hand came up to shadow those sky coloured orbs.
“Licence, registration, proof of insurance,” Les barked, completely pissed at the way his body was betraying him again. First getting sick, then this freaky ass reaction to the blond EX’S AND O’S
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man cowering in the car. Shit, Les couldn’t even lower the flashlight. If he did, Adam would get an eyeful of erect dick once he finished digging out the documents Les had demanded.
“Officer, could you point that thing away?” a female voice snapped.
Les blushed fiercely until he realised the woman—hadn’t Josh said something about Adam’s mother?—wasn’t talking about his dick but the flashlight instead. As irritated as he was about his reaction to Adam, Les couldn’t bring himself to ignore a mama’s command.
And even though it had been posed as a question, it wasn’t. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled down his back. Moms made him nervous as hell—irrational, he knew, but there it was. Les lowered the flashlight so that it didn’t shine fully into the vehicle but didn’t lower it entirely. He propped his forearm on the roof of the car and dipped his head down, peering past Adam to the small older woman in the passenger seat. “Sorry, ma’am.” The tangy scent of sweat and musky male tickled his nose. It was a tantalising odour, one that zinged straight to Les’ balls, making him inhale sharply in a quest for more.
“Sorry, I probably stink,” Adam said, his light tenor almost musical despite the slight tremor to it. The sound of that voice, along with the citrus and smoke tinged sweat scent seeped under Les’ skin and wrapped around his spine in a warm caress. Les tipped his head and found himself caught by eyes so light a blue he thought Adam must surely be wearing coloured contacts. There hadn’t been anything on his licence denoting the need for corrective vision, but that colour simply couldn’t be natural. He supposed the guy could be wearing those non-prescription contacts that were sold just about everywhere.
“I’ve driven straight through from Montana,” Adam continued, “well, me and my
mother.” Adam waved a hand at the woman beside him. “We couldn’t afford to stop and I know I was speeding but I’m so tired and was afraid—”
Les zoned out as the man babbled. He dropped his gaze to those lips he’d thought
would look so good around his dick and frowned when he realised the bottom one was a lot plumper than it had been in Adam’s picture. He leaned in closer, lifting his flashlight enough to illuminate the lower half of the man’s face. Adam’s bottom lip was swollen, a crusted split bisecting it. A pale bruise streaked his jaw, fresh enough that it hadn’t yet reached the purple stage. Les forgot about Adam’s mother and brought the flashlight up further, skating the beam over Adam’s features. His stomach clenched and burned as more bruises appeared on the man’s pale skin. One blade sharp cheek bone sported a fist sized bruise that made Les EX’S AND O’S
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wince in sympathy. Butterfly bandages held together a cut over Adam’s left eyebrow. Dried blood etched a gash beside his temple.
The unreasonable anger had to be another side effect of the drugs. Nothing else would explain the surge of protectiveness that coursed through Les, making his hands shake. He locked his grip around the handle of the flashlight and took a step back, ignoring the documents Adam was holding out. “Step out of the car.”
Fuck fuck fuck! Adam’s heart was slamming against his ribs hard enough to leave
impressions. He set the documents on his lap as he fumbled for his seatbelt. This was the last thing he needed after getting jumped by a group of thugs he knew had to have been sent by Rollins. Even though Adam had been leaving town like the asshole had wanted, Rollins still hadn’t been satisfied. It made Adam doubt that anything short of his death would satisfy Mitch’s father.
“Now wait just a minute,” his mother said, catching his hand as he released the
seatbelt. Adam winced, even her soft touch making his bruised knuckles throb. Her blue eyes, so like his own, flashed with the fury only a mother protecting her child could feel as she darted a look past him. “Don’t you get out of this car. He can’t make you—”