Boys in Blue 03 - Dangerous Distraction (4 page)

Yeah, Nate should have known better. Rook didn’t have his own dick figured out, let alone a long term setup to figure out Nate’s. Nate wouldn’t have fallen for it either if it hadn’t been for that goddamn mouth!

Fuck!

 

Those lips had knocked him off balance in the bar and they’d fucking done it again in the basement. He
knew
better than to fall for the rough, secretive charm Rook possessed.

Nate ran a hand through his hair. He stared blindly at the street, his eyes seeing through the parked cars, the random traffic, through the group of kids acting tough at the corner and the homeless guy in the alley. He looked, but he didn’t see. He waited for Rook to make his reappearance and wondered idly what he’d done with the condom.

He suddenly felt queasy. What if Rook had only stuck the tip of his cock in because he couldn’t stand the thought that a guy got him off? Maybe sucking dick didn’t creep him out but inserting himself into another man seemed a little too out of the closet for him.

Nah, that couldn’t be right. He knew how to use the tools he had. God, did he. It had been a long damn time since Nate had blown his wad like that. With those lips…fuck, those lips on his cock…sliding, sliding, stretching, taking.

Nate’s dick stirred.

 

“ Giamanti,” Rook said from somewhere nearby.

 

Fuck, he hadn’t heard him enter. Nate schooled his features and turned. He hoped he looked as emotionless as the ass-fucking he’d received. “Yeah,” he said.

 

“When you get your report finished, fax a copy over to my office.”

“Sure.” Nate turned back to the window. The homeless guy had pulled a hoodie over his head. Hands in the front pockets, he looked composed.
Odd
. Though his head wasn’t tilted up, Nate had the distinct feeling that he watched. “Derrick. There’s a guy across the street watching me. Navy blue hoodie , jeans, five-ten or six feet maybe. Caucasian male approximately mid-thirties. He’s by the dumpster. I think he knows something.”

“Got it.”Derrick made for the door.

Rook followed, calling into his wireless like it was a walkie-talkie. It beeped and Nate could only assume it was a garbled affirmative. They’d left the room and Nate continued to stand at the window to avoid alerting the man in the hoodie .

Just let him keep thinking I haven’t figured anything out. That’s it. Just like that. Get comfortable. Lean against the wall, buddy.

Suddenly the guy quit slouching, quit leaning. His body went on alert. Nate grabbed the walkie his belt, and hit the call button. “All agents! All agents! Suspect is moving!” The man took off at a run. Nate ran, taking the steps two at a time and leaping the last several of each floor. He reached the front of the building, slammed his palms against the door sending it flying and rebounding. Rook was nowhere in sight and Nate glimpsed Derrick’s flapping ATF jacket as he cleared the alley corner in pursuit.

“Shit!” Nate thrust a hand through his hair, dropped his free hand on his hip.
Fuck!
He should have seen that coming. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been missing a lot of cues today. First Rook and now this guy.

Something nagged at him until a similar memory unfolded in his mind. A memory with Rook, crouched near a closet and Nate doing his level best to ignore the stretch of denim across his ass and thighs. Nate had been at the window then, too. As though zooming in on a photograph, he saw the street of that bust-gone-wrong very much like this one. In it, the same lounging man in a hoodie .

Was it that easy? If so, why spy on him instead of escaping the bust. Nate paced in front of the building, holding the scene. Derrick had better fucking be okay, or have caught the sonofabitch . You didn’t leave your partner. It had been a tossup. Protect the scene or chase the shadow of a possibility.

Now he could say it wasn’t so much of a shadow as a definite suspicion. He should have fucking seen it. Should have caught the similarities the moment they’d presented. Instead, he’d been lost in thought about Rook’s goddamn lips and how his goddamn lips affected everything Nate did. Including this latest mess.

How many signs did Nate need? Rook made a dangerous distraction, infesting his mind with things he shouldn’t be thinking about on a case.

Derrick and Rook came back together. Derrick looked pissed. Rook was grim. As they walked, stern lines pulled at their lips with each uttered word. Derrick gestured behind him. Rook nodded. Well, damn it, the suspect had gotten away.

“You’re sure?” Derrick asked.

“Yeah,” Rook answered, as they walked up. “I know him. The port wine stain on his temple is a dead giveaway. I’ll pull up the records back at the office. There’s a link in there. As far as I know, this guy deals in exterminations, not arms.”

“Could he be your murderer?” Nate asked. “Maybe enjoyed offing people too much and has gone self-employed.”

 

“And that’s why I’m the detective and you’re the guy who plays with his gun,” Rook answered, looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.

 

“Yeah, whatever.I’ll talk to my contacts at the ninth to keep you in this one. You’re out of your jurisdiction on this scene,” Nate said.

 

“Fuck. You two were supposed to work this shit out,” Derrick groused.

 

“Oh, he worked me out,” Nate said.

 

Rook glared. “When you morons get your shit together, send the damn report to me. Don’t do me any other favours.” He stormed off in the direction of his car.

 

“Jesus, what’s his problem?” Derrick asked. “I called his bluff.”

Nate watched Rook leave. His wide shoulders and lean hips moved as part of his fluid gait. He’d had that man’s cock in his ass. Hell, he’d had
his
cock in that man’s mouth and he swore he could still feel the tight suction, the rawness his tongue had left on the underside of his shaft.

He was dangerous, all right. Nate didn’t do one-night stands or quickies in the basement. He’d always disdained shit like that for being the chicken shitted way out of responsibility. In this situation, responsibility for human connection. It was a mistake for him to get caught up in lust for Rook when Rook had no sense of continuity with one person.

He knew it like he knew his own heart had been built for loyalty, permanence. Rook screamed
one-off
from every pore. He’s shot his load using Nate’s ass as a tight receptacle and could move on to the next sorry loser dumb enough to think that was enough.

Nate had been mind- blowinglystupid for giving in. He sensed it would be a long time before he got the sexy detective out of his mind, lost the imprint Rook left on his body, and the exposed hunger he’d enflamed in his soul. Rook had hooked him, and it was going to be a bitch getting free.

Chapter Three

Except for two gruff responses on the phone, Rook hadn’t been able to get the man to call him back. David had tried everything he could think of, short of stalking him. The department operator insisted Agent Giamanti wasn’t available when he called the office, yet the messages were getting through eventually, because the requests for case documents always arrived to David’s attention within twenty-four hours.

His cell went to voice mail after the first two contacts. David had come close to pulling his hair out. With the case information at his disposal, and nothing to review between the departments, he pursued his last lead, Johnny Pantorino , David’s street informant.

David checked his cell, hoping a message or text had come in that hadn’t buzzed at his waist. He frowned at his cell, clipped it back on his belt. Since Nate barely answered David’s calls for work, he felt confident that a message asking to see him socially would go unanswered. His frown deepened as the thought took hold.

He watched the street, waited for Johnny to appear. The silence stretched out, filling the spaces between his racing mind and the scent of stale coffee. Soon he wouldn’t even have this. The Chief would be assigning him a new partner now that additional funding had come in to replace his last one. He supposed that was good, but David liked silence.

His car engine ticked, cooling. David sniffed, changed his position to lean against the wheel.

 

“Maybe I came on too strong,” he wondered, aloud. He had always been direct. He hoped Nate liked that about him.

 

His cell phone buzzed to life.

 

Nate snatched it, fumbled it in his rush, flipped it open and forced himself to calmly lift it to his ear. His hands shook. “Detective Rook.”

 

“It’s Steph . Ninth is giving you the Hemphill bust.” The Chief’s assistant’s voice carried eagerly over the line.

 

“Tell Chief I owe him.”

 

“The paperwork came from ninth in cooperation with the ATF. They said you were specifically requested since you’d been in close communication with them. Way to go, stud!”

 

David blushed. Nate had kept his word. Did that mean something? Was it a peace offering?

 

“Thanks, Steph .”

 

“So, I was wondering…”

 

“Yeah?” he asked, when she’d trailed off and hadn’t picked up her thought.

 

“Do you…do you want to go get coffee sometime?” she asked, her voice squeaking nervously on the question.

 

The only one he wanted to have coffee with wouldn’t call him. How did he get out of this one without telling her she not only had the wrong parts, but she wasn’t Nate Giamanti .

 

Johnny stepped out of the brownstone facing him. “Hey, Steph , hold that thought. My informant just made an appearance.”

 

“Okay, yeah, sure,” she said, crestfallen.

 

He flipped his phone closed as he got out of the car. “Johnny!”

 

Johnny looked up, grew pale, and tensed. Pre-flight behaviour.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

 

“Shit, man,” Johnny said when David reached him. “You can’t show up here.”

 

“I know the routine, Johnny.” David made a show of reaching for his gun while he flashed his badge.

 

Johnny postured, shook his head and David crowded his space. To anyone looking on, it was the expected dance and retreat of a cop and a suspect. Johnny held his hands up, “Okay, man, okay.”

 

David saw him dart looks out the sides of his eyes.

 

“What do you want?” “What do you know about Erik Riley hanging around arms deals and murder scenes?”

 

Johnny’s grew ashen. “ Naw, man. I ain’t touching that shit. Naw , you can haul your ass off my block and ask some other dumbass. I ain’t that stupid, man.”

 

“You’re that stupid if you don’t answer the question.”

 

“You want me to rat on a hit man? Dude, you’re
messed up
!” Johnny backed away, hands up as though pressed on an invisible wall.

 

David sighed. “Don’t make me drag your sorry ass in.” He unholstered his weapon, keeping the barrel down, an empty threat instead of a promise of force.

 

Johnny turned and ran.

 

“Shit, Johnny!” David chased the scrawny guy down the block.

Gaining on him, David swiped an arm, hoping to grab his shirt, failed and burst forward with renewed energy. This time his caught and held. David jerked Johnny backwards. Johnny flailed and David slammed into his back, taking him to the ground.

He leapt to his knees, planting one in the small of Johnny’s back and took out a zip-tie to lock his hands behind.

 

“Police brutality!Police brutality! I didn’t do nothin ’! All you people lookin ’ through your windows, this is police brutality.”

 

“No one’s looking out their windows,” David said, barely winded.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I know this neighbourhood. No one sees anything. But I see you, Johnny. And Johnny,
you
see everything. Let’s go back to my office and have a talk.”

 

“Man you’re all up in my business! You can’t
do
shit like this!”

 

“Calm down, you played your part. You know how this works,” David said, under his breath.

 

Johnny struggled convincingly. David half believed he didn’t want to go with him. He pushed Johnny’s head down and deposited him in the back seat.

 

“Listen, you can’t take me there. It won’t matter if I talk when they know I went and you find this guy, my life’s for shit. You gotta let me hit you and run.”

 

Johnny’s brow glistened. His eyes darted and he’d hunched his shoulders. Fear leached from him, almost palpable in potency.

 

“Riley got himself a mark,” Johnny said.

 

“Who?” “ Ain’t sayin’ unless you swear you let me go.”

 

“Can’t trust you,” David said, starting to close him in.

 

Johnny pushed out with a foot. “Please. I’ll call it in. I ain’t gonna live until tomorrow if you take me in.”

 

David frowned. “You’ve got my number. Make it look good, but if I wake up with a headache, I’m going to find and beat your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. Johnny scooted from the seat, shoved his body into the door and David pretended to stumble back. Then Johnny head-butted him in the gut and David took the fall, cracking his head on the side of his car as he went down.

Johnny ran. David shook his head to appear dazed. He was, slightly, not much of an act in that. He’d conked his head hard enough for his ears to ring. He gave Johnny several more minutes while David struggled to his feet, holding the trunk as though it kept him steady. By then, Johnny had disappeared.

David acted pissed, got in his car, and took off with a squeal of tires. “He’d better fucking call, or I’m going to haul his ass in for obstruction first chance I get.”

 

Speaking of calling…David grabbed his phone off his belt. Alternately glancing down and driving, he picked out Nate’s cell number and listened to the rings on the other end.

 

“Agent Giamanti , here.”

 

“It’s David.”

 

“Rook,” Nate answered, guarded.

 

“Thanks for the good word with ninth. The files have been turned over as of this morning.”

 

“Good.”

It sounded final, as though Nate prepared to hang up. “Nate, I want to see you again,” David said, rushing to speak before the line disconnected, then regretting the desperate way his words hung in the air. He winced, waiting to hear how his answer.