On the Streets of New Orleans (18 page)

“Do you know Devon Maxfield?” the man’s voice demanded in that way cops have—sort of like you’d broken the law, and he knew it.

Everything inside Charlie went liquid, including his bones. “Yes. Why?”

“There’s been a shooting.” The cops shuffled their feet and looked everywhere but at Charlie.

“A shooting? Devon shot someone?” Charlie held onto the door.

“No. I’m sorry. Detective Maxfield has been shot. He’s at the hospital, and he asked for you before he went into surgery.” The cop’s face twisted, as if he’d tasted something bitter.

“Devon’s shot?” Charlie’s knees buckled, and the tall cop grabbed him before he hit the ground.

“Whoa.”

The other cop said, “We’re here to take you to the hospital.”

“Okay. Let me put some clothes on.” Charlie stepped back, then turned and bolted to his room. He dressed so fast he didn’t even think about what he threw on. After writing a quick note to pin to his door explaining he’d been called away, he stuffed his feet in his sneakers and grabbed his wallet and keys. He used an old pushpin to tack the note to his door and then ran back to the front, where the cops waited for him. They looked like they wanted to be someplace else.

“Let’s go.” He pulled the door shut after him and locked it. The men could get out by simply turning the dead bolt in the morning.

The cops hustled him to the car and put Charlie in the backseat.

This time, no flashbacks of the ride in the cop car the night Lloyd died played in his head. Instead there was only the fear he’d be too late. That he’d get to the hospital, and Devon would be gone.

Fuck, he hated hospitals.

And cop cars.

But not cops, it seemed.

No, he loved a cop—a detective, as a matter of fact.

Charlie rubbed his face with his hands and leaned back, swallowing a few gulps of air to keep from throwing up.

No way could he face another person he loved dying on him.

Another reason he stayed away from men and relationships. This hurt too damn much.

Charlie silently cursed Detective Devon Maxfield. Badass, huh?

Son of a bitch was more like it.

Why the fuck didn’t Dev tell him the truth? Why didn’t Dev trust him?

CHARLIE FOLLOWED
the tall cop inside and to the elevators. They rode up a few floors to the surgery waiting room. The doors opened, and Charlie stepped into a corridor swimming with cops.

“Hey, Captain, this is the guy”—his guide jerked a head at him—“Charlie MacAfee.” He took Charlie by the elbow and led him toward an older man in a suit.

The man stuck out his hand. “Captain Van Pelt.”

Charlie shook it. “Where’s Devon? Is he all right?” His gaze searched the room, but no Devon.

“He’s in surgery now. They’re removing the bullet.” The captain stared at him with narrowed eyes. “So you’re Devon’s partner.”

What?
Charlie blinked at the man.

“Sorry. Isn’t that the term you use? Partner?” He seemed sincere. No mocking tone in his voice, only a sort of pity in his eyes.

“Yes. Partner.” The only thing Charlie could think to explain this was Devon had been talking—ranting, most likely—due to the pain or shock. Or… what the hell? He had no idea, but something told him to play along, otherwise, he’d never get to see Devon.

Seeing Devon had become a priority to Charlie.

“How long has he been in surgery?”

“Two hours.” The captain looked at the floor. “He was hit in the leg, and he’s lost a lot of blood. We didn’t find him for about forty-five minutes after we got the call.”

“Where was he?” Charlie lowered his shaking body into a seat, and the captain sat next to him, talking in a hushed voice.

“City Park. Do you know why he was there?”

“No. Devon was very… secretive about his work. He didn’t tell me much.” It hit Charlie like a sledgehammer to the head. “He wanted to protect me.” Of course. How could he be so stupid? “Did you get the guy who shot him?”

“We know who it was. We’re looking for him now. Don’t worry.” The captain patted Charlie’s knee. “We’ll get him, and he’ll go to trial for this.”

Charlie just nodded.

Around him, the other cops shot furtive glances at him. Checking him out. Checking out Devon’s
boyfriend
. His
partner
.

Charlie sat up straighter. He’d play the part if it got him in to see Devon. He’d do just about anything to see him again. Touch him. Kiss him.

And then he’d kill him with his own two hands for not telling him the truth.

DEVON GROANED.
Nothing hurt, but he felt like his brain was swimming in cotton.

“Charlie?” His voice rasped and didn’t sound like it belonged to him.

He was thirsty, his throat hurt, and he wanted Charlie. He wasn’t sure which he wanted the most.

“Water?” he croaked.

Someone moved to the side of him. A white plastic spoon with ice chips was brought to his mouth. He opened his parched lips to let the ice slide in.

It felt so good. Cool and wet.

“Devon?”

Charlie’s voice.

“Charlie?” Devon turned his head and looked into a very pale, very worried face. And he knew at that moment he’d be fine. He raised his hand to touch Charlie and Charlie took it, holding it with both hands, warming him.

Charlie brought his hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’m here.”

“How long?” Devon swallowed. “More.”

Charlie gave him the straw again, and he sipped.

“They took the bullet out last night. You went to recovery. Do you remember talking to me there?”

“No.”

“You’re in a room now. It’s almost 6:00 a.m.”

Devon closed his eyes and it came back to him. “Jingo shot me.”

“We know. I mean, the cops know. You managed to tell them before you passed out.”

“My leg?” Devon wiggled his toes, and pain shot through the leg. “Shit!”

“Here. Press this button, and it’ll give you a dose of painkiller.” Charlie pushed a plastic device into his hand. “The bullet missed your femoral artery by a mile. Wrong side of your leg, thank God.” Charlie only looked slightly relieved.

Devon took it and pushed the button, and it beeped. He tried to press it again, but nothing happened. “More.”

“Sorry, babe. Just one dose every fifteen minutes. Doctor’s orders.” Charlie smiled at him, but the worry lines around his eyes remained.

“’Kay.” Whatever they gave him was kicking in. “So tired.”

“I know. Have one more sip of water and close your eyes, babe.”

Devon sipped, then shut his eyes, but not until he gazed at Charlie one more time.

“Love you,” Devon whispered as the drugs took over.

Somewhere far away he thought he heard, “Love you too.”

Devon smiled and slept.

THE NEXT
time Devon woke, Charlie was asleep in the chair next to the bed. For a long time, he just watched him sleep. Inside, Devon’s heart filled to near bursting. He’d done it, fallen for this man. Though he knew it was crazy, he could have sworn he’d heard Charlie tell him he loved him.

Devon smiled. The pain resurfaced, and he found the button and pressed it again.

He gazed at Charlie in the dim light of the room’s windows until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“CAPTAIN?” DEVON
didn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. He’d expected to see Charlie, but it only took a moment for him to school his expression.

“Devon. Good. How are you feeling?” Van Pelt searched Devon’s face as if he’d find the answer there.

Devon sighed. “Better. Not so groggy. The pain in my leg is a dull ache now.”

“That’s good.”

“Where’s Charlie?” He leaned forward and looked around the room.
Damn.
Was that a touch of a whine in his voice?

“He went back to the shelter to change and let them know he’d be down here for a while.”

“Oh.” The relief raced through Devon’s body, and he sank into the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?” Van Pelt didn’t look or sound mad, but he did sound disappointed.

“Does it make a difference to you if I am?” Devon knew he’d have to face this one day. Might as well be now.

“Not to me, but I’ll be honest with you. The other cops, your fellow detectives, it sort of took them by surprise.” He chuckled.

“I can understand that. Do you think it’ll be a problem?” Devon wanted to know, because if he had to watch his back or not trust the cops working with him, he might have to make some changes.

“Hey, man, this is N’awlins.” The captain shrugged. “Half the city is gay.”

“But not half the police force.” Devon frowned.

“Says who?” The captain smirked, then burst into laughter. “Look. Everyone seems to be fine with it. But in case they aren’t, you let me know if there’s any bashing or shit, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious as a heart attack, Devon. I want to know. You’re a fucking good detective, and I don’t want to lose you. Not from a bullet, and I sure as hell don’t want to lose you over some gay-bashing.”

“I swear.” Devon nodded. “When will Charlie be back?” He exhaled, glad to have that out of his way.

“He seems like a nice guy.” The captain sounded curious.

“He is.”

“How long has he been working at the shelter?”

“You know as well as I do. I’m sure you’ve already pulled up his records.” Devon gave his boss a hard stare. “I know all about him, Captain. The death of his brother, the jail time, the probation, and now, the time he’s putting in at the shelter.” Devon waved his hand at the captain.

Van Pelt pursed his lips. “Yeah, well, call me protective.” He shrugged. “One thing.”

“Yeah?”

“If he’s your partner, why does he live at the shelter?”

“Because Devon hasn’t asked me to move in yet.” Charlie stood in the door, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.

Devon looked into Charlie’s eyes and couldn’t stop the grin. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Charlie came in and put the coffee and book down. He took Devon’s hand and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead.

Heaven. Now Devon knew he’d be better. More than better.

“Well?” Van Pelt asked, as he stood.

“Well what?” Devon blinked at the man.

“Are you going to ask him to move in? A man who spends night and day by your side, tending to you in your time of illness. A man like that… well, hell.” Van Pelt blushed.

“Charlie MacAfee, will you move in with me and make me the happiest man in the world?” Devon held out his hand.

CHARLIE STARED
at Devon’s hand. He’d never dreamed of something like this. Never had allowed himself to want it, a man who loved him, a man who wanted him to live with him as a partner.

But he didn’t deserve this, did he?

In the back of his mind, he heard a familiar voice.
Go on, Charlie. Let go of me. It’s time.

Devon held his breath as he waited, hand outstretched. This was it. Time to forgive himself and move on. Away from guilt and anger and toward Devon and hope and a future filled with love.

Charlie took it. “Yes, I will.”

In the background, Van Pelt slipped out the door.

Charlie leaned over the bed and took Devon’s mouth in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he caressed the side of Devon’s face. “Why couldn’t you just tell me you were an undercover cop?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into my life. And my assignment was dangerous.”

“I got that.” Charlie huffed. “Look. From now on out, honesty, okay?”

“Okay.” Devon crossed his heart and held up his hand as if pledging the truth. “When can you move in?”

“Well, the doctor says you can go home in a day or two. I’ll stay with you, and we’ll work it out.”

“What about your job at the shelter?”

“I talked to Father Peder. He wants me to stay on, just work during the day. There’s one of the men he’d like to move into the night shift slot.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Hell, yeah.” Charlie grinned, then sobered. “Look. I don’t know what a detective makes, but I don’t make much money. My room and board was free, and the priests only paid me a small salary.” He didn’t want to rely on Devon’s money. “If we need more money, though, I can try to find a better job so I can carry my fair share of the bills.”

“Do you want a better job?” Devon deep looked into Charlie’s eyes.

“Devon, I have no skills. And no one is going to hire an ex-con to do much of anything.”

“But if you could do anything, what would you really want to do?” Devon squeezed his hand.

Charlie thought, and the idea popped into his head, surprising him. “I’d like to go to college, if I can swing it, but it probably costs too much.”

“I think we can find some grant money, babe. Maybe a job on campus? We’ll figure it out, if that’s what you really want to do.” Devon pulled him down for a kiss.

“Okay. Sure.” For the first time in years, Charlie felt hope fill his heart. Hope for his future.

“Charlie, you know you deserve this, don’t you?” Devon squeezed his hand.

Charlie kissed Devon’s cheek. “I do now, thanks to you.”

“Hey, protect and serve. That’s my motto.”

Charlie laughed. “You’re not such a badass after all, are you?”

“Sure I am. In bed. And I’m going to prove it when we get home.” Devon winked.

“Home?” Damn, that sounded good. Tears welled in Charlie’s eyes, and he blinked to fight them back, but a few fell down his cheeks.

“Hey, babe, everything’s going to be all right now. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be fine together.” Devon wiped Charlie’s cheek with his thumb. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, Dev. You’re one badass cop, you know.”

“I’m
your
badass cop, babe.” Devon pulled Charlie down until their foreheads rested against each other. “All yours.” Devon closed his eyes and sighed.

“All mine.” Charlie brought their lips together and gave his man a kiss. Devon’s breathing softened into a light snore.

Charlie dimmed the overhead lights so his lover could sleep, then settled into the chair he’d spent the better part of three days in. He closed his eyes and drifted.