November Rain

A
single bullet could take them both down.

Fire and Rain, Book 4

Detective Joe Klamath is used to guys falling on their backs at the arch of his commanding eyebrow. Yet he can't seem to get a read on a cute, department-store sales guy. The vagrant who just walked in, though? He's easy to read. He's dangerous.

Joe's training kicks in, but as he wrestles the gun-wielding man, he gets shot.

Raised in a conservative Ethiopian community, Elias Abraham keeps his natural attraction to men under wraps. But Joe's heroism moves him to care for the man who saved his life. After all, Joe is hurt. Chances are slim he'll demand the types of things boys in college always wanted. Sex acts Elias wasn't—and possibly never will be—ready for.

Gradually, Joe's easy confidence softens Elias's resistance. But as Joe's healing progresses too slowly for a man of action, and trouble brews in Elias's family, Elias begins to wonder if he can handle the pressure. Because though he hasn't given all of his body, he's already given all of his heart.

Warning: Contains a sexy-as-hell cop, a shy virgin fifteen years younger, and an extremely intimate sponge bath. Underpants optional.

November Rain

Daisy Harris

Dedication

Many thanks to Annabeth for her unwavering support of Joe, Elias and sponge baths, and to Kristy, Janette, Jules and Wendy for your help with beta reads. Thanks to my husband for always putting up with my insanity and to my kids for eating takeout when I'm on deadline.

And huge thanks to my editor, Sasha, for making this book miles better than I thought it could be. You're the queen!

Chapter One

“Can I help you, sir?” Elias stepped behind the customer. He tried not to notice how sturdy the man's frame was under his rain slicker, but something about the guy had Selena Gomez's “Come and Get It” playing in a loop in Elias's head. As many handsome guys as Elias had seen shopping in the Nordstrom Men's department, this one was attractive enough to make Elias feel tingly all over.

“Yeah, sure.” The man ran his palm over a Hugo Boss sweater. “Do you have this in a large?”

“I can check in back.” Elias hoped none of the salespeople at stations near him stole his customer. Bouncing slightly in time with the tune in his head, he held out a hand. “I'm Elias, by the way. May I have your name?”

The man met Elias's stare, and something shifted in the air between them. Slowly, the man smiled, rolling his gaze down Elias's body. “I'm Joe.”

Elias tensed. Joe was flirting with him. There was no doubt about it. When they touched palms for a handshake, Joe held on a beat too long. His eyes creased in a knowing smirk.

“Well…” Elias cleared his throat. “I'll go see if I can grab you the right size.”

“Hurry back.” Joe winked. He had hazel eyes, brown hair shot through with gray at the temples and the aura of a man who knew what he wanted.

Elias scurried into the storeroom, his hands shaking as he dug through spare sizes in the shade of brown Joe wanted. His groin pulsed, threatening to form an embarrassing bulge in the front of his slacks. With all his effort, Elias breathed through his nose and concentrated on things that would cut off his desire.

His brother, Solomon, and sister-in-law, his strict upbringing… Those put a damper on his jumping nerves.

Grabbing the same sweater in another color that would look better with Joe's eyes, Elias made his way back onto the sales floor. Joe was close to where Elias had left him, standing next to a table covered in colorful underwear.

When Joe spotted Elias coming, he dangled a bright red pair from his fingers. “Hey, what do you think of these?” His eyes sparkled. “Do you think they're my color?”

Elias swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Er…”

“You ever tried 'em?” Joe stepped closer. The underwear featured legs that were tighter on the sides to create a pouch in front for a man's…

Elias closed his eyes so he wouldn't imagine the part of Joe that would be cradled in that stretchy fabric. “No. I don't wear…” Elias couldn't finish the sentence. If he referred to places below his belt, he'd never be able to head off an erection before it formed.

“Too bad. I bet you'd look cute.” Joe glanced down Elias's body. “You'd have to get extra small, though, huh? Or do they carry these in the Young Men's department?”

Elias held the sweaters he was carrying in front of his groin. “I don't think they have them there.” At least thinking of the youth section of the store let him get his body back under control.

“Ah, well.” Joe came over and bold as brass pulled the sweaters out of Elias's grip, then handed him the pair of scorching red boxer briefs. “Why don't you hold these for me while I'm in the dressing room?”

Elias could only nod, muttering something like, “Ugnh-uh.”

As Elias waited, he wondered if he should go to the changing area and ask Joe if he needed additional sizes. But Elias was too shy. Joe would find an excuse to open the dressing room door shirtless, and seeing him undressed would likely make Elias faint with excitement.

Eventually, Joe came out of the dressing room, holding the sweater Elias had chosen for him, and set it on the counter. “Thanks for bringing this out. It looked better than the one I'd wanted.”

Unable to meet Joe's gaze, Elias rang up the purchases.

Something was supposed to happen now. If Elias gave the right signal, Joe would ask for Elias's number or make some comment about them running into one another again. Elias wanted that as much as he was terrified by it.

“Here you go.” Elias handed Joe his shopping bag.

Another customer appeared. “Excuse me.” He stepped next to Joe, demanding Elias's attention.

“Yes?” Elias turned to the man politely. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Elias watched the lines of Joe's back as he left.

Joe strolled to the shoe section, keeping his attention on the cute sales-twink over by sweaters. Soon as that other customer cleared off, Joe'd go back and ask the kid for his number. Not every day did Joe see a piece of tail that fine. Elias was all angles and smooth brown skin. His heart-shaped face and high forehead were gorgeous. Somali, maybe? Ethiopian? Whatever his ethnicity, it was sexy as fuck. The way his eyelids had fluttered when he'd realized Joe was cruising him? Dang, the boys at R Place would have killed to be able to fake that coyness.

Picking up a shoe, Joe looked at the price. He set it down before he could get so much as a fingerprint on the soft leather. On his detective's salary, Joe couldn't afford to splurge on designer crap. He'd only picked up the fancy sweater so he wouldn't show up to his ex's wedding in a suit he'd bought at Ross.

Elias's customer wandered off, leaving Elias alone at the register, so Joe eased in that direction. In the process, he spotted a guy in ragged-looking clothes stomping down the stairs to the Men's department.

Joe might have been off duty, but he'd have to be blind not to notice the man's twitchiness. Agitated didn't mean dangerous, necessarily. Neither did nervous. Still, Joe wound his way past cologne and around a table of ties, readying to head off the man if he started trouble.

“I want to return this.” The man pulled a plastic bag out of his overcoat and shoved it in Elias's face.

Elias's liquid black eyes popped wide. “Um, sir…” He swallowed. “I've told you before, returns are on the fourth floor. If you need me to call someone to show you…”

The guy held the bag higher like he might hit Elias with it. “You assholes are always doing this. Nordstrom accepts all returns, right? Well, this has tags on it!”

“Sir?” Joe stepped to the man's side. “It's true what he says. Returns are in another part of the building. If you want to head up there—”

“Why does this always happen to me?” The man's face screwed into a look of crazed pain. He scrubbed his eyes like he was crying. “All I wanted… I mean, the least you could do…”

Joe slipped his hand into his back pocket for his phone. Damn, he should have listened to his instincts and called the station the second he saw the guy. Or at least gone up a level to the security desk.

“It's okay, man.” Joe didn't normally wear a side arm when off duty, but he wished he had today. “It's going to be fine. I'll call some people who'll help you, all right? Show you what you need.” Joe suspected what he needed was a high-dose antipsychotic and possibly a drug screening, but Joe made his phone visible while he dialed the station.

“Who are you calling?”

Past the guy's shoulder, Joe spotted Elias picking up the Nordstrom phone. Unfortunately, homeless guy did too, and he spun around, hand digging in his pocket.

For a knife? A gun? It could have been anything.

Joe lunged to grab his arm. There was only a moment of wrestling, then a gunshot sounded. Joe elbowed the guy in the face before he even felt the pain.

“Fuck!” The stinging ache ran through Joe so fast he wasn't sure where he'd been shot except that it was in his lower body. Joe snatched the revolver out of the guy's hand and manhandled him to the carpet.

“I'm calling— I mean, I called— They should be coming any minute!” Elias sounded ready to piss himself, but Joe heard boots stomping down the stairs that meant store security was heading to the scene.

“Are you okay?” Elias ran around the edge of the register, his hands flapping. “Oh my God, you're… I mean he…” He gasped like he was hyperventilating.

If the pain that had localized to Joe's thigh wasn't enough to make him feel like he was going blind, he might have told Elias to take a few deep breaths.

“I can take it from here, sir.” Security guards and one uniformed police officer surrounded him, getting control of the situation. “Just try and relax. The ambulance should be here in a minute.”

Joe thought about pulling out his badge, explaining he was a cop and that they didn't have to talk to him like he was a kid. But with his teeth clenched to stop from cursing, he didn't bother. What difference did it make, really, when all he wanted was to know if the damn bullet was still in his leg?

The perp shouted a slew of obscenities at the security guard, railing about his ex-wife and the government. World-class crazy. Seattle got more than its fair share.

Elias was still fluttering around the edges of the scene. Joe wished someone would get the kid out of there. The pain was like Joe's skin was tearing open, and if he sobbed, he didn't want Elias to see. No way would Joe get a chance to nail the kid if Elias saw Joe crying.

“Sir? You should be lying down. We need to get you onto the stretcher.”

It was only then that Joe realized he was still partially upright, leaning against the store counter.

“I can get on it myself.” Joe shifted off the counter and toward the gurney as manfully as the dead weight of his leg allowed. Nordstrom's paneled ceiling swam in his vision as the paramedics rolled him across the floor to the waiting elevator.

“Sir, do you know what month it is?”

Seemed like a stupid question since obviously he wasn't going into shock, but Joe answered anyway. “Fucking November.” Anyone who looked out the window could tell that much. With the gray and the rain, the whole city was ready to float away. Next thing he knew, he was being lifted into an ambulance. Maybe the paramedics were on to something with checking his state of consciousness.

Joe closed his eyes. Someone was cutting at his clothing—at his left arm and his right leg. He didn't have time to shiver before a needle was shoved in his vein and the line strapped to his elbow with tight, sticky tape.

Great. He'd lost his chance with the sales-twink, and now he'd show up to Dan's wedding limping like an invalid. Joe drew the line at a wheelchair. If he had to hop on one leg to the damn ceremony, he'd face his ex-boyfriend standing.

Chapter Two

“How much longer is this going to take?”

The doctor looked at Joe over the top of her mask, but even with her face covered, it was obvious she was annoyed. “We have to make sure the tissue is debrided before we can stitch it up. If you need more sedation—”

“No. I'm fine.” Joe flopped his head to the side, looking at the IV dripping steadily into his arm. His head swam already from the drugs they'd given him—some kind of benzodiazepine combined with an industrial-strength painkiller. Between that and the local anesthetic in his leg, all Joe felt of his injury was vague tugging in his thigh.

“Good. Because you're lucky we're not admitting you.”

Joe sighed, but he opted not to grumble any more at the doctor. The shot was only a graze, the doctors had said. It took off skin and damaged some underlying muscle but hadn't hit anything important. Joe supposed he was lucky, but he sure as hell didn't feel like it.

Hours seemed to pass while the doctor pulled and stitched Joe back together. All the while, Joe watched the clock on the wall. Sometime in there, the nurse must have shut off the drugs because Joe's vision became somewhat clearer.

By the time the nurses had cleaned away the bloody gauze and bandaged Joe's leg, he was hungry, tired, angry and wanted to get the hell out of the hospital and back to his apartment.

“Can I leave now?” he asked the one nurse left in the room.

“Do you have someone here who can pick you up?” The nurse set down the paperwork he was filling out.

“Not yet. But I can call a cab.” Jack's leg started to ache, either because the local anesthetic was wearing off or because the last of the morphine had washed out of his system. He hid his grimace, though. No need to give the nurse more reason to keep Joe in the ER.

“You can't leave on your own.” The nurse handed Jack a white plastic bag. “Take the antibiotic twice a day and the hydrocodone every four to six hours for pain.”

Joe scrubbed his face. “Listen. I'll call a friend to pick me up.” He reached for his jacket, which was sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed.

“You're not going to be able to make a call from in here.” The nurse hurried to pick up Joe's jacket for him.

He found the phone in his pocket and pulled it out. Unfortunately, the nurse was right. He didn't have a single bar of service. “Well, let me go out to the waiting room, at least. I can call from there.”

“You can call from in here.” The nurse headed to the wall phone.

Joe wanted out so badly he could taste it, and he had no interest in being in this room one more second than necessary. “I'd rather do it in the waiting room, thanks.” He eyed his clothes folded in a pile on the counter at the far end of the room. Joe wondered if he could hop to get them.

It had been embarrassing enough to be undressed by the hospital staff when he arrived. No way did Joe want to suffer that indignity again.

The nurse got the clothes off the counter and handed them to Joe. “I'm going to have to help you with the pants.” Maybe the nurse understood what Joe was going through, but the guy still sighed like he'd had enough of Joe's pushing. “Let me find you some scrubs to wear and a wheelchair, and I'll take you outside.”

Elias began to question his plan. He shouldn't have come to Harborview to see if Joe was okay. Still, Joe had left his purchases behind. Elias was only being a conscientious salesperson, making sure Joe didn't leave without his bag.

The nurse at the counter glanced in his direction.

Elias tried not to seem nervous. Asking too many questions could get him kicked out. Then again, so could loitering. His wardrobe was fairly nice, but he'd look suspicious hanging around for no reason.

“Excuse me?” Elias walked to the counter, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and the shopping bag. In the end, he clasped the bag behind his back. “A man named Joe was brought in earlier. With a gunshot to the leg?”

“Detective Klamath?” the woman offered. She wore pink scrubs and long acrylic nails like Solomon's girlfriends from high school.

“Yes. Him.” He hadn't been in uniform, but with how fast Joe had acted, Elias could easily imagine him being police. “How is he doing? Was he admitted?” Elias had been too scared to look closely at the wound, but Joe hadn't lost consciousness.

The nurse exhaled, her eyes flickering skyward like she was tired of dealing with Elias already. “You know I can't give that information unless you're family. Even then, I'd need Detective Klamath to have signed off.”

Right then the doors opened to the emergency section in back, and Elias's savior was pushed out in a wheelchair.

He didn't spot Elias because Joe was too busy glaring at the exit like he could explode the doors with his intensity. “I told you—I can push myself.” The detective wore the same clothes he had at Nordstrom—a dark brown shirt with a black polar fleece and a charcoal rain slicker, though one sleeve was torn to the elbow. On his legs was a pair of scrubs, pale blue and clashing with the rest of his outfit. He palmed a white paper bag on his lap.

“It's hospital procedure, sir. I have to.” The orderly pushing the wheelchair spoke with a hint of exasperation.

Elias walked over. “Hello. I…I wanted to say thank you. For earlier. It was…” He struggled to find the right words when he was still shaking with gratitude. “You were amazing. I brought your things.” He lifted the Nordstrom bag, though he didn't give it to Joe. The last thing Joe needed right now was to be holding more.

Joe's face relaxed into a smile. He looked paler than he had in Nordstrom, and his wavy hair was crumpled like he'd been lying down. “Hey. The kid from the Men's department.”

A shot of irritation ran through Elias before he could identify where it came from. Ah yes—
kid
. At twenty-four he certainly wasn't a child anymore. Though he supposed from Joe's perspective he may look like one. “Yes. I'm Elias. Elias Abraham.” Unsure, he reached out a hand for the detective to shake.

“Joe Klamath.” Joe's grip was firm enough to crush Elias's knuckles.

Elias strengthened his fingers at the last second. He always forgot how hard American men shook hands—like they were planning to arm wrestle.

“D'you get hurt?” Joe looked Elias over.

“No.”

Confusion played across Joe's features, so Elias changed his story. “Very minor. Not from the bullet.” He hoped Joe wouldn't ask for any details because Elias didn't want to create an elaborate lie. A small lie was bad enough.

“Well, are they letting you leave?” Joe leaned back in his wheelchair, the pain obvious on his face.

Luckily the nurse had taken a phone call and didn't contradict Elias's story. “Yes. I'm parked in the visitor's lot. I could take you where you need to go.” Elias hoped that offer wasn't too forward.

Unlike the nurse, who was ignoring their conversation, the orderly regarded Elias with suspicion. “It's supposed to be a friend or family member who picks up patients.”

Joe tried to twist to scowl at the man, but it proved too painful, if the grimace on his face was any indication. “We know each other.” He gestured to the papers on the nurse's counter. “And I've signed saying I won't sue anyone if I die. So can I go already?”

The orderly was short, with a rounded belly and small eyes. He scowled like he thought Elias was going to take Joe somewhere and rob him blind, but apparently the man was eager to get rid of his troublesome patient. “Whatever you say, sir. Have a nice day.”

As the orderly left, Elias felt the strangeness of the situation. He willed his mouth to speak, but couldn't come up with anything to say, and was glad when Joe broke the silence by chuckling. “Well, that wasn't passive aggressive at all, was it?”

Elias relaxed into a smile, butterflies twerking like Miley Cyrus in his belly. “Should we go?” He nodded toward the door, unsure whether Joe had to gather any personal items.

“Yeah. I've got my keys and my wallet. The pants are shot though.” He gave an exhausted snicker.

He must not have been too badly hurt if he could joke, but Elias tended to think the orderly was right—Joe shouldn't be left alone. “Good.” Elias darted a look at the handles of the wheelchair, asking with his eyes what Joe wanted.

Joe's worry lines softened, transforming his face from its usual toughness to something luscious. “I wouldn't mind a push.”

Elias nodded and took the handles.

Joe'd turned down the blanket the hospital offered, and now he realized that hadn't been the best choice. The parking garage was open to the elements, and he crossed his arms and rubbed them, trying to keep warm.

“You drove yourself here?” He didn't want to push too hard, figuring the kid must have had an anxiety attack after the shooting.

“Yes.” Elias didn't add anything.

Joe didn't pry. Most people were embarrassed as hell after a panic episode, even if the thing that caused it was completely understandable. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

“It's nothing.” Though Elias's words were little more than a whisper, they were intense enough to make Joe smile.

“No worries. I live up on Seventeenth.” Joe was flattered by Elias's attention.

Elias stopped the wheelchair in front of a nondescript tan coupe. “This is my car.”

“Oh, okay.” Now that he was here, Joe wished like hell he had crutches. Inside they'd said he'd have to go to a medical supply store and buy some. He wondered if it would be asking too much for Elias to stop by a place.

“Can I help you?”

“Let me get around to the passenger side first.” Joe took hold of the rails and pumped the wheelchair to the far side of the car. When he got to the door, he gave a few experimental leans forward in his seat.

Motherfucker
, it hurt to lift his body. Joe remembered Elias's gentle touches at Nordstrom and his soft handshake at the ER—Joe had to be realistic about how much assistance the kid was going to be able to offer.

“May I?” Elias crouched, offering his shoulder. He opened the car door.

“Yeah.” Joe groaned. He may as well get this over with. The sooner he got in the car, the sooner he'd be home on his couch, able to watch TV and mope about having to call work and tell his boss he'd managed to get himself shot.

“One, two, three…” Elias lifted with his knees, one arm darting around Joe's waist. Despite the pain in his leg, Joe couldn't help but notice that Elias was stronger than he looked.

Joe slid into the seat. “I'm good. Let's go.” He reached for the door, but Elias was ahead of him, closing it gently.

“I'll return the chair to the ER.” Elias jogged to the driver's side and opened the door to get the key in the ignition. As he leaned in to mess with the heater, Joe got a look at the top of his head—short, kinky hair, with drops of rain suspended like pearls.

He smelled good. Really good. Rich and sweet with a hint of cologne that might have seeped into his clothes while working on the sales floor. Maybe it was the car and maybe it was Elias's hair, but something about the aroma brought to mind spiced tea with milk, and maybe honey. Something warm you'd drink on a cold winter's day.

Joe turned to stare at the dank parking lot walls. He wished like hell he could get Elias on his back today or tomorrow, but that was out of the question. In a swoop of annoyance, Joe frowned. Fucking winter—Joe'd never spent one without a regular bed partner, at least not in his adult life. November sucked bad enough without a bullet wound to recover from. Desk duty and nights alone watching movies? Crap, he'd be so pathetic.

Elias hurried the wheelchair away, leaving Joe to wonder exactly how he was going to get around.

Fuck it. That was what painkillers were for.

“Sorry.” Elias reappeared, opening the door and sliding into the seat. He put the car in reverse but kept his foot on the brake, watching Joe steadily. “What do you need? Food? A chair like the other?”

He danced around the word “wheelchair”, and Joe was glad. “Crutches should be fine.”

“Should I stop at the store?” Elias drove like he shook hands, with a touch so soft it seemed effortless. The rain from that morning had slowed to a drizzle, and the sky was dark enough it seemed like twilight—no matter that it was actually three thirty.

“If you don't mind.” Joe should call a friend instead of making Elias drive, but Joe had drifted away from the circle of guys he and Dan had been friends with. Meeting new people wasn't as easy as it had been in Joe's twenties. Most of the late-thirties guys Joe knew were partnered up or busy with work all the time.

“Of course not.” Elias's radio played bubblegum pop as he drove, the kind of music Joe's eleven-year-old niece in Denver listened to.

“So. You work at Nordstrom, huh?” Well, that was a lame way to try and get to know a guy. Though with a fucking gunshot wound, Joe was surprised he had the energy to make conversation.

“Yeah.” Elias darted a glance at him, the faintest smile lifting his mouth. Elias's lips were gorgeous. Fuller on the bottom, damp and pink in the center compared to the darker mocha color around the edges. “I've been there over a year. I started after college, when I moved back here from Bellingham.” That was easily the most Joe had heard Elias say, and he could tell Elias was embarrassed. “And you? They said you were police?”

“Yeah. Crisis Intervention, if you can believe it.” With a rueful laugh, he nodded at his leg. In over ten years of interacting with the mentally ill, the first time Joe got shot was when he was off duty. “My partner's a registered counselor, so he's gonna have a field day psychoanalyzing me over this.”

He gave Elias a smile that was heavy-lidded and flirty. Maybe he was too injured to mess around with Elias today, but in a week or two he could get that pretty mouth in action, see those dark eyes looking up at him.