A Case of Christmas (4 page)

Chapter Two

S
o…that was really painful.

The golf cart was only going about fifteen miles per hour but still. Shane hit it full

on.

Too late the driver squealed, honked, and the cart knocked Shane flat. Only not in

that order and definitely not that concisely. It was more like Shane rebounded off the

front headlight, hit the corner post of Norton’s white picket fence, and ricocheted back

into the street where he landed on his back.

Probably not, but that’s how it felt to him as he lay gasping for air, trying to see

through the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“Jesus Christ. What just happened?” Norton yelled from on high.

What had just happened should have been obvious, of course. Even Shane knew

what had happened.

He wasn’t going to black out, was he? Although he had bigger worries, swooning

away in the street would be beyond the pale. Or maybe pail, because he did feel kind of

sick. How badly was he hurt? He wasn’t sure. He had landed in a puddle…or had lost one

hell of a lot of blood very quickly. No, that liquid soaking his jeans was way too cold to

be blood.

So the good news was he wasn’t bleeding out. And the bad news was…well, take

your pick. It was raining harder than ever, for starters.

“Ow,” he said. Which was an understatement, but then he was known for his self-

control. He tentatively raised his head.

“How the hell could you miss him?” Norton, still yelling, landed beside Shane in the

very cold, very wet puddle. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

Maybe the exhaust from the golf cart was filling Shane’s lungs, but he couldn’t help

admiring the easy way Norton had leapt from the ladder. That level of agility was

enviable when you were trying to decide if rolling to the left would hurt more than rolling

to the right.

“I didn’t miss him!” cried another voice, sounding very frightened.

“That’s what I
mean
. He was standing right
in front
of you.”

“I know! I hit him!”

It was like listening to two people who were on the same page but reading from

different books. Shane began to make a cautious but more determined effort to rise. He

didn’t think he had broken anything, though the next minute or so might correct that

impression. What scared him was the idea something might have torn loose. Like a major

organ.

“No, lie still.” Norton bent over him, looking pale and stern.

“I’m fine.” Of course, Shane would have said that if he’d been decapitated. No way

was he going to lie here while Norton felt him over with careful hands—which was

exactly what was happening. He could feel how cold Norton’s hands were through his

sweater and jeans.

“Shane, you don’t know that.”

“Don’t.” Shane half rolled, half scooted away from Norton. He came to a halt, his

nose inches from a pair of reindeer socks encased in Birkenstock sandals.

“I’m so sorry,” wavered an elderly voice. “You walked out in front of me. I couldn’t

stop in time.”

“Not your fault,” Shane got out between gritted teeth.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.” The old guy—small and portly in green turtleneck

and green trousers—looked almost tearful.

“Not necessary. But thanks.”

“Just lie back,” Norton insisted, still helpfully groping Shane’s ass as he tried to

resettle him in the puddle.

“Will you back off?” Shane pushed Norton away, got to his knees, and hauled

himself to his feet, using the golf cart as a prop.

As luck—his luck—would have it, the brakes were not on, and the cart began to roll.

Shane gasped and lurched forward.

Norton grabbed him, saving Shane from landing once more on his hands and knees.

It was disturbing to realize how natural it felt to have Norton’s arms wrapped around him.

Norton smelled exactly the same, although until that moment Shane had no idea he knew

what Norton smelled like. His aftershave was masculine but unexpectedly cultivated. A

blend of spice and sea spray. White woods, patchouli, and cinnamon.

Norton began, “I don’t…”

“…believe this,” finished Shane.

The driver made sounds of dismay, scrambling into his vehicle and hitting the brakes

before the cart picked up any real momentum. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m a little

rattled.”

“I’m
okay
,” Shane freed himself from Norton once again. Norton continued to

hover…which, since they were about the same height, was hard to explain, but it did feel

like he was looming over Shane, crowding him.

The elderly man climbed out of his vehicle again. “I really wasn’t going that fast,” he

said. “But I looked away from the road—just for a moment—to see if I had my coupons.”

“I’ll run you over to the med center,” Norton said.

“Thanks, I’ve been run over all I need.” Shane put his hands up. “Really. I’m not

injured. And if I decide I
am
injured, I can walk over to the med center myself.”

With that, he turned and headed for his cottage, trying not to limp, striving for

dignity, which under the circumstances…yeah, no. Escape was the only realistic goal.

“Oh! You live in the Lacey cottage?” the man in the golf cart called. “I used to know

the Laceys. Ed was a good fr—”

Shane slammed the door on the rest of it. He limped through the living room and

went into the bathroom, lifted his sweater, and peered at the less white but still firmly

fastened square of bandage. From this angle it was hard to see, but—

The front door bounced beneath a crisp rapping on its wooden surface.

“Are you kidding me?” Shane asked his reflection.

His reflection looked back in bafflement. Shane pulled his sweater down, limped out

to the living room, yanked open the door.

Norton, still looking grim but also self-conscious, said, “Look, we didn’t get off to a

good start, and that’s partly my fault, but you really should let a doctor look you over.

You took a hell of a fall. Let me drive you to the med—”

“
Partly
your fault?” Shane interrupted. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong because

we did get off to a good start. Which is the whole problem. I thought we got off to a great

start, but then it turned out that you were playing me the whole time.”

He did not remember taking a step back, let alone inviting Norton in, but somehow

Norton had crossed his threshold. That would be the cottage’s threshold, though Shane’s

had been breached as well.

Norton said, “I wasn’t—”

“What the hell is your real name?”

“Uh…Linus.”

“Linus?” Shane was momentarily distracted. He had often wondered what Norton’s

real name was. Linus had not figured into those guesses. Magnus or Jackson or

Dominic…something offbeat and a little flamboyant. The only Linus he could think of

was the one in the
Peanuts
comic strip. And anyway, this guy wasn’t offbeat or

flamboyant. He was another law enforcement officer like Shane.

Norton—nope, Linus—grimaced. “Linus Norton. I like to use my real last name

when I’m under—working. It keeps things simple.”

“I bet. So let’s just cut to the chase. You ran an op on me.”

Linus said sturdily, “I did. Yeah. That was my job. And it worked in your favor.”

Shane ignored that last comment. “You were in disguise.”

“Sort of.”

“You bleached your hair. And your eyebrows. Unless you’re in disguise now. I guess

that’s a possibility too.”

“I was undercover. Of course I had to change my look. It’s about getting into the

role.”

“It was about getting into a lot of things,” Shane said. Linus’s eyes widened, and he

opened his mouth to protest. Shane cut him off. “Are you even gay?”

“Of course I’m gay!”

“I don’t think there’s any of course about it, Mata-Hairy. You lied about everything

else. Right?”

“It. Was. My. Job.”

“Great. But meanwhile I was—” Thankfully, Shane’s cell phone rang again, cutting

off an admission he would have deeply regretted.

“Meanwhile you were what?” Linus’s brows drew together in a dark line. His blue

eyes watched Shane alertly.

“I have to take this.” Shane held up his cell phone with one hand. Pointed to the door

with the other.

Linus protested, “You’re not going to try to pretend it was anything more than sex?”

“Hell, no. It’s about common courtesy.” Shane stepped around Linus and opened the

front door since Linus didn’t seem to be getting the message.

“You could have found me if you’d tried.”

“Yep, I sure could have.”

“Those two years stretch both ways.”

“Like the elastic band in a worn-out pair of shorts.”

Linus stepped reluctantly onto the front stoop. “So…we’re even.”

“Go to hell.” Shane slammed the door after him. Which felt great for about the

length of time it took for the reverberation of the bang to die out. He answered his phone,

registering his sister Sydney’s smiling image before he snapped, “Bah, humbug.”

Sydney said cheerfully, “You say that like you mean it.”

“How’s it going?”

“Better than it sounds like it’s going over there.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re not, Shane. That’s the point. You just got out of the hospital. You

should be taking it easy. Resting.”

Shane glanced out the window at the rain-slick street. “I was lying down not four

minutes ago.”

“Hm. I don’t believe you. Anyway, even if that’s true, this is really disappointing.

For Mom in particular. She was hoping we could have the kind of Christmas we used to.

How often do we have this opportunity? And now you’re not going to be there.”

He sighed. “I know. And I know I’m probably not explaining myself well. I just

need… I need a little time.”

A pause while Sydney considered—or, knowing Sydney, recalculated the best line of

attack. “I can understand that. This has been traumatic for all of us. You almost died. Of

course you want to have a little time to…to process. That’s natural. But you could do that

at Mom’s. It’s a big house, and we all respect your need for privacy.”

Uh…that was funny and not funny all at the same time because she did really believe

what she was saying. But not in billion years did they respect his need for privacy.

Anymore than he would respect theirs if he thought they needed his help. The main thing

though was they
were
genuinely worried about him.

He cleared his throat. “This isn’t—I’m not doing this to…disappoint anyone.”

“Lucy has been talking about seeing her Uncle Shane—”

Shane spluttered, “That kid’s not a year old. She doesn’t remember me from Adam.”

“She’s eighteen months, and of course she remembers you.
I
sure as hell remember

you. What about me? What about Shy? What about Mom?”

“What about this,” Shane said. “Let me have these three days, and I’ll fly up right

after Christmas. I’ll spend the rest of the week at Mom’s, and we can all celebrate New

Year’s together.”

“Well…” She sounded unconvinced, and why, at age thirty-five, would he have to

justify to his family why he might want some time alone? Proof that “baby of the family”

was not a title you could ever outgrow.

“I guess we don’t have a choice. Did the hospital give you a list of instructions on

how to care for your wound? Do you have all your meds? You’re taking your

antibiotics?”

“Yep. I’ve got everything I need.”

“You really do have to take it easy, Shane.”

“I know.”

“Just because you’re feeling better doesn’t mean you can go swimming or diving.”

“
Swimming
? We’re in the middle of a hurricane!”

“That’s just great!” Syd groaned. “Then again, who knows. Maybe you
will
get some

rest.”

“Okay,” Shane said patiently. “Appreciate the call. I’ll—”

“You better be here on the 26th if you’re hoping for a piece of pumpkin pie.”

“Got it. I’ll call Mom tomorrow. Love you guys.”

“We love you too—”

The
too
tipped up like Syd had something else to add, and Shane said quickly, “Bye

for now,” and disconnected.

“Oh my God,” he murmured. His gaze fell on his scattered groceries. He vaguely

remembered tossing the plastic bags onto the sofa when he’d walked in…what felt like

hours ago.

He picked up the quart of milk and nearly dropped it again as someone thumped on

the front door.

That was not a courteous
Is anyone home?
knock-knock-knock. It was a knuckles to

wood
And another thing!

Shane threw open the door.

Linus, looking as wet and irate as a merman hauled up in a fisherman’s net, said,

“It’s not like I made any attempt to cover my tracks.”

“I’m not sure why you want to share with me your inefficiency on the job, but okay.”

“You know what I mean. If you’d wanted to find me, you could have found me.”

“I agree.”

“It was more than
two years
ago.”

He couldn’t fault Linus’s reasoning. Two years was a very long time, especially