Shades of Gray (20 page)

It had been surprisingly hard work that first time, his shoulder screaming by the end as he bent over Danny on the bed, his jaw aching, his gag reflex kicking in when he took Danny too deep. He’d never realized how much work it was, and he’d been hit with a sudden flash of empathy for the drunken girls he’d known in college who’d spent long minutes on their knees. But beyond the effort there was pleasure, too; hot embers burning under his skin as he watched Danny’s reactions, heard him moaning. All of it filled Miller with the desire to give Danny everything he wanted.

And already he was better at it, only days later; more confident, looser, learning what Danny liked, what made him groan down deep in his throat the way that caused Miller’s cock to twitch in response. It was more now than just a longing to please Danny; having Danny in his mouth was what pleased him too.

Danny spread his legs, allowing Miller room to stroke, to work a finger behind. Danny was panting hard, huffing out each breath as 150 | Brooke McKinley

Miller sucked, tongue flicking over the slit, drawing Danny in as far as he could. Danny’s hips made little jerking movements as he lost control.

Danny breathed out a sound, something between a sigh and a moan, and passed a thumb across Miller’s eyebrow. Miller looked up at him through lowered lashes. He knew Danny was close to coming, could feel it in the tightening around his finger. Danny’s tongue curled over his top lip as he heaved in air, his hands clenching convulsively against the wall. “Oh, Christ, Miller,” he groaned, his eyes going liquid and dark as he spurted into Miller’s mouth. The hot spray coated Miller’s throat; the thought of moving back or spitting it out never crossed his mind.

He rested his head against Danny’s stomach, Danny’s fingers playing lightly in his hair. Miller’s knees cracked as he stood and leaned his body into Danny’s, pinning him to the wall with his weight.

Danny reached between their bodies to stroke Miller through his jeans.

“I like tasting me in your mouth,” Danny whispered as they kissed.

Miller moaned. Danny’s hair was still wet under his fingers, his hips grinding forward as Danny sucked hard against his tongue. He loved it when Danny talked that way. It made him feel powerful and wanted, like his touch ignited some secret part of Danny that belonged only to him.

Danny pulled Miller’s shirt from his jeans, working his fingers against the soft skin of his lower back, pushing under his waistband.

“You’re overdressed,” he murmured into Miller’s neck.

They set about remedying that, and Miller was down to his shorts when his cell phone rang, a muffled jangling from the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Ignore it,” Danny said, lips on Miller’s nipple.

“Fuck, can’t,” Miller groaned. “Don’t go anywhere.” Danny laughed, throwing himself backward onto the bed, head propped on one bent arm as he watched Miller answer the call.

“Hello?”

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“Miller, it’s Colin.” His voice was serious, nothing remotely friendly in the tone.

“What’s going on?” Ice cubes barreled into Miller’s stomach, smothering the lust fire burning there.

“We got a complaint in at the Bureau. A man out walking his dog in that neighborhood a few nights ago said he was threatened by two men. One claimed to be an FBI agent, the other had a gun.” Silence on the line. “You know anything about that?”

Miller sunk onto the bed, resting his forehead in one hand. “Yeah, that was us,” he said wearily. “Danny and me.”

“What the fuck, Miller?” Colin exploded. “You know protocol!

You should have reported it the second it happened!”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“
Not that big of a deal?
He had a gun!” This was it; all his years of training and loyalty to his job ramming up hard against a few weeks of Danny Butler.

“No, Danny didn’t have a gun,” Miller said. His brain might be tripping over the words, but his tongue didn’t appear to have a similar problem. “It was a can of mace I’d given him because he was nervous when I left the apartment. The guy walking his dog overreacted.”

“A can of mace?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh,” Colin said slowly, waiting for Miller to jump into the silence. But Miller was a master at that old game. He could lock his lips with the best of them.

“He shouldn’t have been outside in the first place, Miller.”

“I know, but he was going stir-crazy. I’m allowed to use my discretion, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I thought letting him take a quick walk around the block after dark was better than him losing it in here and heading out on his own at some point.”

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“It still should have been reported,” Colin reminded him again, but his hurricane voice had died down to a blustery wind.

“I know. I’ll get something on file tomorrow.”

“The dog walker made a complaint at the local police station too.”

Miller scrunched up his brow. “I checked there today, they said there wasn’t any report.”

“Trying to cover your tracks?”

“No,” Miller said honestly. “I just didn’t want any information getting out that could be traced back to us. I figured he hadn’t reported it to the Bureau yet or I’d have heard.”

“Maybe he meant he was planning on reporting it to the local police.” Miller could hear the scratch of pen against paper. “I’ll double-check.”

“Okay.”

Colin sighed. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Do I need to pull you off this case?”

Miller looked over his shoulder at Danny, laid out naked on the bed, his green eyes worried, his lips red and swollen from Miller’s stubble. “No,” he said, not taking his eyes off Danny. “No.”

“Next time I won’t ask,” Colin warned. “I’ll pull you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Miller replied. He tossed the phone aside, kneading his forehead with stiff fingers.

They’d managed to keep the real world at bay for seventy-two hours; that was all. Three days with no talk of Rachel or Danny’s plans or where they were going from here. Talking around the future, the consequences, and the way their bodies fit together just right. But now reality was back, stronger than ever, like a neglected dog nipping at their heels, refusing to be ignored.

The bed shifted under Miller as Danny moved closer, his lips pressing into the juncture of Miller’s neck and shoulder, tongue stroking lightly. He knew it was Danny’s way of saying thank you, Shades of Gray | 153

recognizing Miller’s sacrifice on his behalf.

“I need to do the dishes,” he said, easing away from Danny’s touch. He felt old all of a sudden, worn down.

“Miller….”

He pulled on his jeans, not bothering to fasten them. “Just… let me do the dishes, Danny. Okay?” Miller always craved space when he was upset, time to battle his own demons. Rachel never could accept that, always pushing him to talk, wanting to “work through it together,” when all he wanted was to be left alone.

But Danny only nodded and let him retreat to the kitchen to soothe himself with a mindless task, calm himself with the repetition of rinse and dry.

“PHONE,” Danny mumbled, his mouth pressed against the warm smoothness of Miller’s chest. “Phone,” he said again, louder, using the arm stretched across Miller’s body to shake him awake.

“Hm… what?”

“Phone.”

“Shit.” Miller scooted out from under Danny, who, even more than half-asleep, was not able to stop himself from admiring Miller’s muscles as he shoved himself upright, his body illuminated by the faint glow from the kitchen.

Danny rolled over, easing his way back into sleep when the sharp crack of Miller’s voice knocked him into full consciousness.

“What?” Miller said, his voice humming with anxiety. Danny sat up, rubbing his face with one hand. “Okay,” Miller agreed with whoever was on the other end of the line. “Okay. I’ll call you when we’re clear.”

Miller grabbed his jeans from the floor. “We have to go, Danny.

Now.”

Danny moved off the bed, grabbing his own pants, yanking them 154 | Brooke McKinley

on with hurried hands. “What? Why?”

“Madrigal knows where we are. Or he’s pretty damn close.”

“Fuck,” Danny said, the air snatched from his lungs with an icy hand.

They dressed in silence, keeping the room dark. Danny took his gun from the top dresser drawer and stuck it in his waistband. “Do we take anything?” he asked.

Miller threw Danny’s duffel onto the bed. “Whatever you can pack in ten seconds,” he said.

Danny tossed in a couple pairs of jeans, a handful of T-shirts and underwear, and his wallet. “Done.”

“Grab the condoms,” Miller said, pointing to the bedside table.

Danny never thought he’d laugh in a situation like this, with fear snapping fiercely through his blood. “What?” he asked with a strangled chuckle.

“They’ll come afterwards and clean the place out. I can’t have them finding that stuff.”

Danny followed Miller into the living room, waiting by the front door while Miller grabbed his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair and snatched his keys and wallet from the counter. “Let’s go.” The hallway was dim and quiet when they eased out the door.

Miller pointed with his gun toward the stairs, motioning for Danny to follow behind. The adrenaline was pumping now, Danny’s hand squeezing his own weapon, blood rushing in his ears. They made it outside without passing a soul—not surprising since it was three in the morning—but thankfully not bumping into Madrigal hiding behind a corner, either.

“This way,” Miller whispered once they were on the street, gesturing toward his Jeep four cars down. They hugged the building, keeping away from the streetlights and making friends with the shadows.

“Give me your keys,” Danny said when they reached the Jeep.

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“What? No,” Miller protested.

“I’m a good driver, Miller,” Danny said, as patiently as he could.

“I’ve been in a lot of tight situations. You want me driving.”

“I can drive the car, Danny,” Miller scoffed, unlocking the doors.

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying I can drive it better.” He could see Miller was going to argue with him, not believing the incident would escalate now that they’d escaped the apartment unscathed. But Danny knew better; Madrigal was closing in.

“Right now,” Danny said, low and urgent. “Give me the fucking keys.” Something in his voice convinced Miller, because he tossed the key ring into Danny’s outstretched hand. Danny moved to the driver’s door and pulled it open. He heard it then, so quiet it might have been his imagination, the faint click of a car door opening down the block.

But it had been real, and he knew who was coming.

“Get in,” Danny hissed, watching as Miller dove into the car, a bullet whistling through the space his head had just occupied.

“Shit!” Danny threw himself behind the wheel, pulling the car out into the deserted street with a screech of tires, fumbling on the dashboard for the lights.

“He’s behind us,” Miller said, craning his neck to look out the back window. Danny could see headlights in his rearview mirror as Madrigal’s car pulled out into the street.

“Put on your seat belt,” Danny said, his voice even. “Once you’re strapped in, hold the wheel so I can put on mine.” Miller did what Danny asked, not questioning his instructions, steering one-handed as Danny pulled the seat belt over his lap. Danny glanced once in Miller’s direction. “You ready for this?” he asked, voice grim.

Miller nodded, eyes grave on Danny’s.

“Okay,” Danny replied. “Hold on.” He allowed himself one moment of pure terror, panic flowing through his veins like poison, freezing his heart to the point he thought it might shatter inside his chest.

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You fuck this up, Danny, and you die.
And just behind that thought, one even worse.
You fuck this up, Danny, and
he
dies
.

He pushed the fear away, tightening his whole body against it the same way he had as a child when he’d heard his father’s heavy tread on the stairs, the old man’s brass belt buckle whacking against the walls to give Danny advance notice of exactly what he had coming; the same way he had when he’d been pulled over with a U-Haul full of cocaine and talked his way out of a search and a one-way ticket to life in prison; the same way he’d walked into the yard at Marion and faced men who had only a single thought in their minds when it came to Danny Butler. Danny was no stranger to the metallic taste of terror. He knew how to be brave.

He jammed his foot against the accelerator and the Jeep surged forward. Danny thanked God the bulk of the snow had melted and the roads were clear. He spun the wheel hard to the left, taking a side street at the last moment, not wanting to give Madrigal any advance warning.

The car skidded hard, Danny going with the momentum, the back end fishtailing as he completed the turn.

“Still there,” Miller said, his eyes on the side view mirror.

“Is he alone?”

“I think so.” Miller twisted in his seat, taking aim with his gun.

“I’m going for his tires.”

“Fuck that. Go for his head.” Danny’s voice was cold and detached, all his fire directed toward survival.

“I can’t get a clear shot. He’s ducking down.” Madrigal obviously didn’t have the same reservations, because the back window of the Jeep exploded inward, spraying Danny’s neck with rough pebbles of safety glass.

“Fuck!” Miller shouted, one hand coming up to cover his face.

“You okay?” Danny asked hoarsely, looking out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah. Fuck,” Miller said again, wiping away the thin trail of blood leaking down his face. “Where are you going?” Miller asked as Shades of Gray | 157

Danny made a hard right, barreling past dark storefronts, blasting through red lights on mercifully empty streets.

“Highway.”

“No!” Miller exclaimed. “Too much traffic.”

“Not this time of night. How good a shot are you?”

“Good,” Miller replied.

“We can get up a lot more speed on the highway. It’ll be harder for him to get off a decent shot. Can you hit a tire if I slow down enough?” Danny could feel Miller watching him. “Do you trust me?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“Yes.”

“Can you hit a tire?”

“Yes.”

Danny nodded, flexing his hands on the wheel. “All right, then.” He took the entrance ramp to the highway at one hundred and fifteen miles an hour, blowing past a semi, veering around the cluster of cars going sixty. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Madrigal still on his tail.

Danny stuck to the far right lane, slowly easing off the accelerator. Miller pivoted in his seat, balancing his arms on the back of the seat as he aimed out the nonexistent back window. He fired, five shots in rapid succession, the echo in Danny’s head drowned out by the sudden explosion as a bullet found its target. Danny slammed his foot back onto the gas, heading for the approaching exit. He could hear the ear-splitting squeal of tires on pavement, Madrigal’s car weaving drunkenly across the highway as he fought for control. Danny took the exit, the Jeep bouncing over the low hill. Danny’s neck snapped forward at the impact, his teeth rattling as his jaw locked down hard.

They drove in silence for several minutes, Danny constantly checking the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t followed.

“Maybe he’s dead,” Miller said finally.

“He’s not dead.”

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“How do you know?”

Danny shrugged, gripping the wheel with iron hands to stop the shaking. “I doubt he even wrecked. He’s like one of those horror movie villains, impossible to kill. We’ll see him again.” MILLER directed Danny to a parking lot near the airport, the Jeep mingling with five thousand other cars. From there they took a cab downtown, neither one of them talking during the ride. Miller felt numb, his neck pounding with a dull ache. He noticed Danny rubbing his hands, his fingers probably cramped up from clutching the steering wheel in a death grip.

Miller had the cab drop them off at a bus stop and they took a cross-town ride to a string of cheap motels. Miller picked the one that looked least likely to rent rooms by the hour. He went into the front office while Danny waited outside. Better if two men weren’t seen checking in together; he didn’t want to give Madrigal any leads. Key in hand, he led the way to the ground floor room and they went in, Danny locking the door and pulling the chain behind them.

Danny leaned against the door, watching Miller in the darkness, only a sliver of light coming in through the musty-smelling drapes.

Miller suddenly felt flooded with sadness, homesick with wanting for the apartment, the place where they’d felt safe. He knew how close they’d come to dying. He’d heard the bullet singing past his face.

But together he and Danny had cheated Madrigal of his prize.

Danny had been fearless in the car, his face a mask of calm, his voice strong. In that car Miller had realized for the first time exactly what Danny meant when he said he’d been taking care of himself for years now. He didn’t need Miller to do that job. He was as capable of saving Miller as Miller was of saving him. But somehow the knowledge that Danny didn’t need him that way made Miller more protective, more determined that no one was going to hurt Danny, not ever again.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said into the stillness, his voice cracking. “If Shades of Gray | 159

we hadn’t gone on that walk….”

“It’s not your fault.” Miller’s voice was rough, his words tumbling out like loose gravel.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t. And you didn’t, either.” Miller took two steps closer. “We’re safe, Danny. We’re together and we’re safe.” Danny reached out, grabbing fistfuls of Miller’s coat, hauling him forward. They slammed back against the door, Miller’s hands pulling hard in Danny’s hair, not worrying about hurting or being hurt; pain just meant they were alive. Danny’s mouth was frantic on his, a wild thing without a clear purpose except to lick and bite and suck whatever it could reach. His teeth nipped violently, not backing off even when Miller growled low in his throat.

Danny tore Miller’s jeans down, fingers eager and demanding, moving off Miller to help rip away his own jeans, snatching at Miller’s shirt, his hands pinching as they moved upward.

“Turn around, turn around,” Miller chanted. He couldn’t wait, not one fucking second, had to be inside him,
now, now, now
….

Danny turned to face the door, bracing himself with his hands, moans falling from his lips in a rush of sound. Miller started to push forward, stopped. “I don’t… do we need something?” he panted.

“Just do it… do it, Miller!” Danny cried. “Fuck me!” Miller did what Danny asked, spit into his hand and rammed home in one deep thrust. Danny pushed back against him, his fist pounding out a ragged rhythm on the door. He was the tightest, hottest thing Miller had ever dreamed of, taking whatever Miller gave him, not pulling away.

“God, yes, Danny,” Miller growled through bared teeth, his pace fast and brutal. “God, yes.” He licked the smear of blood on Danny’s neck, glass shrapnel rough under his tongue.

“Come on, baby… come on, that’s it,” Danny moaned, urging him on. Danny threw back his head, their mouths connecting as Miller reached around and took him, firm, in his fist. They came at almost the 160 | Brooke McKinley

same moment. The heat of Danny’s release pouring into Miller’s hand sent him spiraling over the edge, groaning Danny’s name.

Danny leaned his forehead on the door, his gasping breaths filling the silence. Miller put his lips against Danny’s neck to search out the vein pulsing with life, his hand easing under Danny’s shirt to lie against his pumping heart. Danny was alive, his blood was flowing, his lungs were filling, and his body was holding Miller, tight and warm.

Danny was alive.

And right now, that was the only thing that mattered.