Blood Howl (4 page)

Fifteen seconds.

Ten.

Five.

Nothing happened.

Jed smiled at him, and it was like all of his nervousness suddenly drained out of Redford, leaving him warm and relieved, and he found himself oddly wishing that Jed’s smile was something he could wrap himself in to protect himself from the world, even though he knew that thought was silly. Nobody could wrap themselves in a smile. Another person’s arms, maybe.

“You really want me to stay at your house?” Redford couldn’t quite get his mind around the idea. “I’m not really—”

“You house trained?” Jed broke in, eyes alight with humor.

“Yes!” Redford frowned indignantly.

“I got a bitch of a cat that thinks she’s the center of the world. You good with cats?”

Redford’s second “Yes” was somewhat more hesitant. His grandmother’s old cat hadn’t liked him very much, especially after he had been bitten and turned into a werewolf, but that dislike hadn’t caused too much trouble.

“You good with me getting you a little jingly bell collar because you’re so goddamn quiet?”

“Yes—wait,
no
.” Redford stumbled over the words, watching as Jed just threw his head back and laughed. He couldn’t help but smile a little. Jed’s good humor was contagious. The smile felt strange and alien on his lips, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was doing it correctly.

His life had just been shaken upside down, but he found himself trusting this man. With his complete lack of social graces, Redford had to follow his gut. So he’d go along with Jed’s plan. There was nothing worth stealing in his house, and he didn’t want to get caught up in whatever strange plan this mysterious Fil person had. He’d go with Jed and hope that he was doing the right thing.

What other choice did he have?

Chapter Four

Jed

W
EIRD
day. That was really the long and short of it. It’d been a weird-ass day, and now that it was drawing to a close, Jed wasn’t entirely sure he’d done the right thing. Redford had been quiet on the ride back to Jed’s apartment, staring out the window with huge eyes. Occasionally he’d looked over, some half-formed question on his lips, but the words had never made it out. It was like Redford had existed so long inside his own head that Jed was actually intruding by being close. When they’d pulled into the parking garage, and Jed had done his traditional sweep of the area, slipping his favorite Glock from the small of his back, Redford had followed behind him, looking bewildered. Freaky, quiet man. That seemed to be this guy’s MO.

His place was pretty spartan. He’d never seen the point of knickknacks and snow globes and whatever the hell else people had cluttered around. All he cared about, he had. A room for the weapons, because nothing was tackier than having your M-15s and C4 just lying around where anyone could trip over them and start some kind of crater-making explosion. Lots of windows—he wanted light, all of it, as much as he could get. Other than the storage room, it was one big space. The entire building had once been a warehouse. When some eccentric old guy had blown out the sides, put in one whole swath of windows, and slapped up a couple of walls to separate the apartments, Jed had been the first to sign a lease. It was remote and quiet and didn’t have any dark corners. He loved it.

“Kick off your shoes.” He nodded in the vague direction of a coat rack where his boots and one pair of semi-decent shoes—so designated by the mere fact they
weren’t
boots—were jumbled in a pile. The Glock, his baby, was placed into her usual spot of honor, the drawer in the endtable closest to the door. Anyone who wanted to crash his apartment would get the pleasure of meeting her first. “Make yourself at home. You hungry? I was thinking about food.”

Redford was staring again, drinking in the world through a wide, starving gaze. Jed wondered absently just how long he’d been in that damn house. He seemed most intrigued with the wall of windows, the huge greenhouse-like bank of glass that let in the sky. Long, gorgeous fingers trailed along one pane as the other man absorbed the view. The city was aglow in the corner. Most of what was out there were other warehouses, the docks, the black, lapping expanse of the lake. And the stars. Just starting to peek out, they dappled across the ebony sheet, pinholes of light leaking outwards.

“Hey,” Jed whispered, wondering at the tight leap in his chest when Redford turned around, his lean frame outlined in the faint light from outside. Swallowing hard, Jed rubbed a hand across his mouth, completely losing his train of thought. Hand to God, he’d never used the word
beautiful
for a man before. It’d never fit. But Redford was. Under the shapeless, drab cloak of his clothes, under the shaggy hair he hid behind, there was soft, intriguingly pale skin, the long, gorgeous column of his neck, the full flush of his lips. Taking a step forward, throat dry, Jed found his mouth opening, as if to say words he hadn’t even thought of yet, need a prickle of heat down his spine, unexplained and sudden.

His phone rang.

The shrill tone cut through him like a knife, and Jed jumped, fumbling for his cell. He nearly dropped it twice, cursing loudly. When the thing finally stopped jumping around, and he managed to hold it up to his ear, Jed snapped, “What?”

“You are late contacting me, Mr. Walker.”

Shit.

When Movie Phone hadn’t called, Jed had just assumed that he wasn’t keeping as close a watch on him as he’d assumed. The instructions, the way he’d talked on the phone—Jed had a little experience with clients like that. They
hovered
, checking in every hour, wanting constant status updates, craving some mercenary hand-holding. Yet Fil hadn’t called, he hadn’t had a follow car on them, and Jed had figured he’d have some time to figure out his next move.

Apparently the whole thing about
asses
and
you
and
me
was stunningly accurate. Redford was at his side now, face creased in concern. Damn it. Holding up one hand to forestall any questions, Jed briefly closed his eyes and concentrated. This wouldn’t be nearly as hard if Fil didn’t have
that voice
.

Jed liked to be dominated. He knew that. He liked a guy who could take him, who didn’t mind shoving him around. Fil sounded like if they got every man who’d ever topped the hell out of Jed in a room, he’d fuck them all senseless while ordering the takeover of a small country and never wrinkling his suit. He was an alpha, in every sense of the word, and Jed, damn his Pavlovian self, was responding, despite his best intentions.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Filly,” Jed rumbled, shaking it off. Jesus, he so did not need
that
right now. Hormones were well and good, until they started interfering with his job. “Change of plans.”

Redford was staring off over his shoulder, and Jed turned around to find Knievel crouched on the countertop, glaring at the other man. She sneezed loudly, shaking her head and stalking away, bored. Well, that settled the cat question.

“I’m afraid that is simply unacceptable. You were at the house, no?”

“Yeah. Gorgeous place. You scouting for a summer home?”

Fil didn’t sound amused, though he did pause, a serious bite to his words when he spoke next. “You have something that belongs to me, I believe.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart. Now, the ten grand you advanced me, well, that’s coming right back to you.” Goodbye, vacation. “And you and I are through. Got it?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true, Mr. Walker. Not in the least. You and I are simply getting started. Why don’t you enjoy your evening, hmm? I’m sure we’ll be talking soon.”

Then the creepy, sexy son of a bitch was gone, and Jed sagged back against the wall, rubbing his forehead with one hand and staring down at his phone. “Shit,” he mumbled. Right in his hand. One hundred thousand for a smash and grab, it was practically
child’s play,
and he’d had it. Six hours of work, max. Now, instead of searching for a nice vacation bungalow on some beach somewhere and deciding if he should splurge on fishing lessons or just wing it, he got to play babysitter to—

“Red?” A
big
jingly bell. With a pink collar. Jesus, where had the silent bastard gotten to? Looking around, frowning in confusion, he found him crouched on the floor, nose to nose with the cat, who’d sprawled out on the bed. “Whatcha doin’ there, darlin’?”

“Your cat is purring,” he replied, softly confused, sniffing a few times, hands very carefully placed on his knees as if to remind himself not to touch.

“Well, yeah, she does that. Maybe she likes you.”

To his everlasting shock, Redford breathed out what, for two out of three judges, would definitely be ruled a laugh. A grin split Jed’s face, and he went to crouch beside him, lightly weaving their fingers together to tug the other man’s hand up and gently run their twined fingers through Knievel’s fur. “Maybe she likes you,” Jed repeated himself quietly, studying Redford’s face. They were close enough now that he knew for sure Redford had freckles, spattered like faint constellations across the curve of his nose. Redford was concentrating, a frown creasing his forehead, like he was stunned at the contact.

“What—” he said, turning and finding Jed there, so near that his startled sigh painted a warm exhale across Jed’s lips. They froze, eyes darting to take in each other’s faces. Jed’s pulse roared, a steady drumbeat that now filled his ears, that rushed like fire through his veins.

Redford turned his face slightly, and Jed could have sworn that there was
almost
a faint hint of redness curling across his cheeks, skittish at being this close, embarrassed to be touched, to be seen. “That was the client? The one that—the man that wanted something from me?”

“What?” Jed blinked, pulling himself out of his contemplation of the swoop of Redford’s lower lip. Jesus, he needed to get himself together. Redford was so not his type it was laughable, really. This was just him not getting laid properly in a day or so. It was confusion and frustration and the fact some really pissed off, unknown guy was going to put his nuts in a vise over his idiocy. He was not
actually
attracted to Redford. Not in the least. “Uh, yeah. It was. I told him to screw himself, so we’ll see how that goes, I guess.”

Their hands were still laced together. Jed cleared his throat, staring at their interwoven fingers as if he’d just realized. “I….” Damn it. “You hungry? I can try to cook, if you’re brave, or maybe we could order a pizza?”

Redford smiled, ducking his head so that most of the expression was hidden behind his hair. “Thank you.” It wasn’t just for the offer; there was far too much weight to the words. Unless the guy just
really
liked pizza. “Food sounds good.”

“Yeah,” Jed murmured, watching as his hand reached out, experiencing some
Body Snatchers
shit, like he couldn’t control his own appendages. His fingers brushed Redford’s hair back, tangling in the surprisingly soft strands, hooking them behind his ear. “Yeah, it does.”

Okay, it was so past the moment when he needed to get a grip. Or, rather,
stop
gripping. Standing suddenly, he all but ran back to the relative safety of the couch. “I’ll call! I know this great place, they practically burn the cheese, it’s all brown and stringy, good stringy, you know? It’s good, anyway, they know me by name. I don’t take a lot of time to cook. Or any, really, to be honest. I like to, though! Or, I like it in theory. I watch a lot of cooking shows. It looks relaxing. Just don’t have anyone else to cook for, so it seems kind of silly, go to all that trouble when I’m just as happy with a pizza and beer. I hate doing dishes too, so there’s that.” He was babbling, smiling manically, because he was totally fine. There was no reason at all to think otherwise. Just because he had, for the first time in his professional career, actually thought twice about a job and now had this
guy
in his apartment, this guy with the eyes and the hands and the way he smiled….

Aw, Jesus. He was so screwed.

“Manny?” Jed turned his back to Redford, beating himself in the forehead with the side of his closed fist while he talked to the pizza place. “Hey, it’s Jed. Look, can I have a large pie? The usual. Yeah, okay, see you in fifteen.”

“Jed?” The too-quiet bastard had somehow managed to stand right next to him without Jed even noticing. “You’re uncomfortable with me here,” Redford pointed out, looking about as guilty as a Labrador that had just torn up the rug. Same eyes and everything. “It’s okay if you’re having second thoughts. I can go back home.”

Arching one eyebrow, Jed just expelled a slow breath, a laugh mingled with a rueful sigh. “Shut up,” was his only reply, walking over to collapse onto his couch, hitching his legs up onto the coffee table and switching on the news. He watched for a moment in silence, though his eyes kept cutting quick glances over to Redford. Finally he shifted awkwardly, muttering so low he honestly didn’t give a shit if Red couldn’t hear him, “Never had anyone in here but me.”

Seven years he’d lived there. Seven years, and the most traffic he’d gotten were the delivery guys and once a Jehovah’s Witness, who’d fled once Jed had started flirting. There wasn’t anything wrong with liking his privacy. But now Redford was there, looking like he did, staring with those wide eyes, and it should have been weird. Should have felt uncomfortable and claustrophobic.