Blood Howl (22 page)

“You took long enough.” David was still at the apartment when he came striding back in, Redford in his arms, enough guns strapped to him to arm a small country.

“Fuck you,” was Jed’s terse reply, laying Redford out in his bed, worriedly stroking a hand across his forehead. “You weren’t the wet team on this, so you get to shut up about how long it took.”

There was the clink of dishes in the kitchen. Jed looked around to find Rathbone bustling about with a teapot. Huh. He hadn’t even known he had one of those.

“You kill everyone?” David was lounged on the couch, flipping through the newspaper. “You know, they have this wonderful thing called a computer. You could read the news on there like everyone else. Save a tree.”

“I like the paper in my hand,” Jed snapped, ripping the newspaper away from David and tossing it onto the table. “And no, not
everyone
. Apparently your boy was right—the four legged bastards like to nap during the afternoon. Most of the ones without guns were tucked away safe and sound. I slipped in, took care of anyone with a weapon, and got out again.”

“Fil?” David’s eyebrow tilted upward. “Don’t suppose you got that lucky.”

“Excuse me.
Boy
?” Victor’s displeased voice came from the kitchen. “I’ll have you know I’m twenty-eight.”

“Would you prefer the term ‘snack’?” A flash of teeth raked through the leer, Jed giving him a look. “Whatever you are, you’re in over your head. David would eat
me
alive, and I ain’t exactly out of his league. The difference between us, Ratty, is that I’d like it.”

“You propositioning me?” David all but purred, a bite of irritation in the idle amusement.

Snorting, Jed wound up pacing at the foot of the bed, casting worried glances at Redford. “Not my type. I like my men to be, you know, not you.” A sigh, and he ran his fingers through his hair, looking worn out and haggard. “And no. Not that lucky. Not even a little. Fil and all his boys were long gone by the time I got there.”

Victor came out of the kitchen with the teapot and cups—Jesus, not only did he have a teapot, he had actual tea in there somewhere, too—and sat down on the couch next to David. There was a moment of silent communication between them, David looking rather entertained, Victor seemingly exasperated but fond. How the hell those two had gotten together, he’d never guess. The only explanation David had ever offered was a mention of a tweed fetish and the T-shirt he’d gotten Victor last Christmas that said “Size Queen.” It wouldn’t last. As far as Jed knew—not that they had long, Oprah-episode conversations—David didn’t even really know where Rathbone
taught
, much less anything about him other than his preferences in bed.

Hell, he wasn’t judging. His longest fling had been three days on a cruise ship, while he was working a job. Jed had just known David for a few years now, and Victor wasn’t exactly what he’d figured for his type. The guy had been useful though, he’d give him that. Which was really all he cared about.

“So why didn’t you tell me before?” Jed asked into the silence, fingers laced and head bowed, sitting vigil on the side of the bed. “About… Jesus, about any of this shit?”

A pause and David stared at the ceiling, idly running a fingertip around the rim of his mug. “You never paid me for that information, Journey,” he finally said, taking a drink of tea. “And as far as I was aware, we didn’t have the share-and-care type of relationship.”

It was true. David was an informant, a source. A damn good one, too, not once had he let Jed down. But a source only got what he was paid to get. There hadn’t been a lot of need for Jed to start asking about fucking
werewolves
before.

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily, attention turning back to Redford’s still form. “Don’t call me Journey.”

His line of work, he’d seen more than a fair share of injuries. Redford was exhausted, knocked around, probably scared as hell, and his body had just shut down to try and protect itself. Nothing to do but wait and see, to hope to God he woke up and everything would be fine.

Leaving had been an enormous fucking mistake. Jed had run straight to a bar, back to what he knew, what he was comfortable with. No enormous eyes begging him for answers, trusting him to be something more than he was. No sweet smile or shy touches or that growing confidence that made Jed’s chest ache every time it broke through. There were men at the bar who didn’t give a fuck about anything but using him, and that was exactly what Jed wanted. What he’d always wanted.

Only this time, he hadn’t. It really didn’t take long to pick someone up, the smoke hanging heavy around the room, the music so loud it forced you to lean in, to lay a hand on the other guy’s arm, breathe a low exhale along unfamiliar skin. Jed had wound up in the bathroom with a man from Tennessee, in town visiting, accent like molasses and hands demanding as they’d shoved Jed’s pants down, bent him over a sink.

Jed hadn’t even been hard. The stuff of his wet dreams, and all he’d been able to think about was the stricken look on Redford’s face as Jed walked out the door, was the way he’d tasted, the sound of him coming. Jed had shoved the guy away, saying
no
for one of the first times in his life. Saying
no
with a fist right across his meaty jaw, shaking and cursing and running over Mr. In Town Visiting’s unconscious form to hurl into the urinal.

When he’d gotten home, Redford had been gone. The apartment had been empty, God, so
achingly
empty. It itched under his veins how quiet it was. It hurt to sit, to stare at the empty bed, the ruffled sheets, and know Redford wasn’t just around the corner. Wasn’t going to pad up beside him, silent, with that little smile he got when there was a joke he understood, when he broke through to engage with the world around him. There was a wickedly dry sense of humor under the shyness, a strength that had been buried, and Jed had begun to love nothing more than seeing them start to come to life.

Only it was gone now. All of it. Knievel had been sitting on the table when he’d gotten home, next to the whistle Redford had left behind, glaring at him like this was all his fault. Which it was. All of it.

“He’s going to wake up, right?” Raising his head, Jed whispered the words, voice cracking slightly. Everything he
knew
was failing to keep him steady in the face of Redford, so frail under the sheets, pale and unmoving and utterly silent. Jed’s hands were knotted together so tightly it hurt, like that was the only thing keeping him in one piece. David glanced over at him and then back at the newspaper he’d rescued, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.

“Of course he is. He’s still breathing,” Victor said dryly. Then, after a pause of hesitation, he looked at David. “Jed really doesn’t know about—” He broke off to make an odd motion at David, and then one at his own neck.

“No, dear,” David replied, turning the page, lips unusually tight. “And I doubt it matters. That is not what he wrenched us out of bed yesterday evening for, and it is not what we’re being paid to do. Jed and I have a business relationship, nothing more. Isn’t that right, Journey?”

“Call me that one more time and I’m filling your pert little ass with a grenade, sans the pin,” Jed grumbled, scrubbing his hands across his face. “And the answer is no, thank you, I am
not
paying you for information on whatever kinky little sex game secret you two play. I don’t need any tips on Hide the Sausage.”

“From the look of your general frustration, perhaps you do,” Victor noted idly, leaning across to read the article David was looking at. “Go check on your werewolf. He’s beginning to stir.”

Shit. Leaning over Redford, hands fluttering uselessly for a moment before they settled to gently tuck Redford’s hair back behind his ears. “Hey,” Jed whispered thickly. “Welcome back.”

“Jed?” Redford’s eyes opened slowly, moving over Jed before settling on David and Victor, fear still lurking in his eyes. He inhaled deeply, and his eyes slammed closed again. Redford shifted on the bed, curling himself up into a tight huddle. He’d met David and Victor before, but they were still unfamiliar, it seemed.

Immediately shoving his way onto the bed next to him, hauling Redford into his arms, Jed did his level best to surround him with nothing but gentle touches, strength and security. He was the last fucking person on the planet to give him any of those things, but this was all he had at the moment. “It’s okay,” Jed said lowly. “It’s all right. I got you back. You’re home.”

“You left,” Redford repeated, his voice quiet and shaky, but the accusation didn’t stop him from clinging to Jed with a bruising grip. Guilt, sour and viscous, curdled in Jed’s throat, bitter on the back of his tongue.

“Yeah,” he agreed heavily. “I did.” What else could he say? There weren’t many explanations, and the ones he did have he was pretty sure wouldn’t help. All he could do was hold Redford closer, curled up against the headboard, Redford sprawled across his lap.

David caught the look Jed gave him and stood with a stretch. “Since you so rudely and frantically called me at an ungodly hour yesterday, I think that I will take this moment on your dime to have a quick nap before the fireworks start. Vicky, why don’t you and I head back to my place? I think we can afford a few hours of rest.”

“A
nap
?” Victor just snorted, taking the teapot and cups back into the kitchen. “You don’t nap, David. Just say it straight and announce that we’re going back to your place to have a lot of sex.”

“I was
trying
to be subtle. Virgin ears around and all that.” With a wink at Redford, David slipped his hand into Victor’s back pocket, happily groping his ass as they swooped out of the doorway, smirking at the resulting exasperated sigh from Victor. Jed let out a slow breath of relief at the quiet they left behind. Too many people in his house, lately. He wasn’t used to it.

Redford, though, seemed just right.

“I left,” Jed said again, slowly, rubbing his thumb along Redford’s temple. “So did you.”

“I tried to clean so that you wouldn’t have to think about me when you got back,” Redford said softly, relaxing now that there were two less people in the apartment. He inhaled, like he was trying to think of something more meaningful to say, before he winced a little. “I’m getting blood on your bed.”

“So we’ll wash the sheets.” Jed breathed out a broken little laugh, sounding almost hysterical, eyes wide as he ducked his head to try and get Redford to look at him. “Did you really think god-damned
dusting
was going to erase you from my memory? Jesus, Red, I went nuts. I actually went fucking insane trying to find you. I looked everywhere I could think of, hit everyone who even
looked
like they might have at one point and time known someone named Fil, and when that didn’t work, I called up David at one in the morning and offered him half a million dollars for a
breadcrumb
.” Jaw tight, he shuddered out a low exhale, forcing his voice back from the loud, cracking edge it’d been on.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you if I was on fire,” he finished, softly this time, so quietly the words barely made it past his lips. Fingers shaking a little, he draped the whistle back around Redford’s neck. Next to it, though, was a new addition, clinking quietly as they settled against Redford’s chest. Jed’s dog tags lay next to the whistle, looped on the chain. “So you don’t get lost.”

He caught a glimmer in Redford’s eyes, looking a little
too
shiny to be properly composed, before the other man buried his face under Jed’s chin. “Thank you for finding me,” came a mumble against his shirt. “I thought… I thought I’d never get out. That you’d never come.”

Holding on tightly, that burn in his throat making it hard to talk, Jed just shook his head. “I’ll always come. Got that, Fido? I am a son of a bitch, and I’m not worth much of anything. The only damn thing I can promise you is that I will always come. Okay?”

“Okay.” Redford nodded against his chest and lifted his head. The renewed trust in his eyes made the ache in Jed’s throat even worse. What on God’s green earth had he ever done to earn that? Not a damn thing. Yet here was Redford, staring up at him like he was
worth
something.
Seeing
him. Jed still didn’t know what the fuck to do with that.

“’Cause if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s coming.” He tried for a leer, attempting to shove away all the heavy emotions. It was far easier to be flippant. Redford demanded too much from him. If he could just keep things at an arm’s length then maybe he wouldn’t fuck up everything to kingdom come. At least his remark was rewarded with a quiet snort from Redford.

Pulling away a little, Redford reached up to touch his fingers to his temple, grimacing faintly. “I should probably take a shower,” he sighed, looking apologetic. “I’m filthy.”

Chuckling, Jed ran his fingertips lightly along Redford’s jaw. “See? I told you that you’d get the dirty talk down.” Redford just looked mystified. Gently untangling them, Jed stood and offered him his hand. “I’d lecture you about water conservation, but somehow I don’t think this is the time. Do you need anything?”

He expected Redford to shrug, dismiss him, and walk to the shower. After all, Redford did have plenty of reasons to not be terribly happy with him. What Jed wasn’t prepared for was Redford taking his hand and tugging him into the bathroom as well. “Yes,” Redford said simply. “I need something.”

Slightly baffled, Jed was pretty sure Redford wasn’t talking about what anyone else would be. Hell, the guy missed ninety percent of the innuendo Jed lobbed at him. “Soap?” he guessed with a slightly confused smile. “Fresh towel? A sink not covered in little hairs from me shaving? I can get you one of those, maybe.”

The smile Redford gave him said
you’re being a little dim
. “You, Jed.” Feeling that that was adequate explanation enough, Redford braced a hand on the wall for balance, reaching out to twist the shower tap. “I need you.”

Ah. Well, far be it for him to be a selfish host. The grin that spread across his face was honestly pleased, shy on the edges, because Jed wasn’t sure how things like this went. For all the sex he’d had, all the lust and the need and the want, he’d never really
been with
anyone. Not like this. There hadn’t been one man in his life that even came close to Redford. “Thank God you’re not asking me to clean,” he answered, hesitantly tipping his chin softly, almost a question, to brush his lips against Redford’s.