“That’s Kitty’s job.” Their resident empath, Kitty kept the peace at the gym.
“And ours is to find this weapon.” Avery looked him in the eye. “We get the blade first. Then we deal with your uncle.”
“I’ll deal with him.”
“I said we. You’re too close to this. You’re hurting, and you’re distracted. He’ll kill you if you’re not careful.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Avery’s words stung, but Nathan conceded his point. “Fine. You’ll help me track him down, but I’m the one who’s going to end his time on this earth. A blade to the throat, a bullet to the brain. I don’t much care, as long as he’s dead.”
Avery stared at him.
“What?”
“You could do that? Just shoot him in cold blood?” He didn’t sound judgmental, just curious.
“You don’t know Malcolm Dixon the way I do.” Nathan gave a bitter laugh. “No one ever gets the drop on him. When, not if, I kill him, it’ll be face-to-face in battle. Tell you what, though. To make you feel better, you can stand by in case I slip up. How does that sound?”
He fully expected Avery to agree with him, make some comment about Nathan’s failure to kill Malcolm the first time or poke fun at his ability to hold his own.
“I’ll back you up, Nathan. But I don’t think you’ll need it.”
Shocked and pleased, Nathan absently bit into the pizza Avery had given him and wondered what Aunt Danielle would have made of his partner. “My aunt would have liked you.”
Avery nodded. “You said she was a smart woman.”
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Are you ever not arrogant?”
“Nope. I’m in touch with myself and my strengths. I’m a likable guy. Not as charming as you, but I’m solid.”
Nathan turned the conversation in another direction. But while they argued about the coming football game on Sunday, he came to a decision long in the making. Before this case was through, he’d have Major Likable on his back and on his knees. I promise.
And when Nathan made a promise, even to himself, he never went back on his word.
Chapter Three
Three days later, Avery lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. They’d made little headway talking to the neighbors. Most remembered Dixon as a pleasant if quiet man who was away as much as he’d been in town when he lived there. No one had seen him since. From what Jack had dug up on him, Dixon worked for the government in a contractual capacity, and his name had been flagged. So Jack was handing off the intel-gathering to a few friends who could pass undetected through official channels.
Just more bad news that Dixon would be a problem to handle. The blade being stolen was bad enough. The thing seemed to like sinking into human flesh, if the reports could be believed. Though Avery and his peers did things most people couldn’t fathom, an inanimate object acting as if it were alive was a hard concept to swallow.
He shifted in bed and linked his hands behind his head. He felt better today than he had yesterday. Though they were supposed to give the appearance of doing repairs, he’d actually fixed a set of stairs and patched some drywall to alleviate boredom. Hauling the equipment helped lessen the physical tension building as well, because he’d started to feel that familiar itch along the base of his spine, the one that told him if he didn’t start pushing his mind and body, he’d have problems. The daily runs weren’t doing it.
Though he didn’t regret joining the PWP, he did wish his withdrawal from the program hadn’t been so demanding. The drugs they’d given him while he’d been in had strengthened his abilities. He could now call on his prognostication, though he couldn’t predict what he’d see. Sometimes focusing on a particular object or person helped, and sometimes it didn’t. And what Avery saw always came to pass. He couldn’t change the future, or at least he hadn’t thus far, so he didn’t like looking there unless he needed to.
Fortunately his skills aided in his job. He normally caught glimpses of criminals, and depending upon the agent in question, he could often help their new cases. He’d seen a missing painting’s whereabouts not too long ago. Their agent had successfully brought it back intact and snagged himself a wife in the process.
He snorted. Wouldn’t that be a kicker? Major Avery Holton, psychic matchmaker? At the thought, he immediately imagined Nathan. The sandy-haired playboy seemed back to normal. Aggravating, appealing, and making a swath through the locals. He’d already had several women ask for his number, and he took great amusement and delight in telling Avery all about it.
Avery had matured past the point where boys kissed and told, and even at that young age, he’d never shared his personal life. He didn’t hide the fact that he liked men and women sexually, but he didn’t see the need to show it off either. Unlike Nathan, who had nothing better to do with this social life than parade an endless supply of pretty boys under Avery’s nose.
He scowled, remembering how each and every one of Nathan’s conquests had made him feel—annoyed, angry, possessive. The confusing need for Nathan made him want to go against his hard and fast rule of no fucking around with coworkers. Maybe if he’d gotten the man out of his system, he could react normally around him.
Then again, he and Nathan didn’t usually work together, not on PWP-type missions. The gym was different. Since he’d been put on the night shift, he and Nathan cleaned equipment, helped out gym-goers, and worked out themselves. Nathan had height and brawn but not a killer instinct. Oh, he boxed well enough, and he could wrestle with the best of them. But Avery instinctively knew best how to handle an opponent. With Nathan, he would muscle the big man down flat on his back. Then his fantasies intruded, and he’d see himself straddling Nathan’s face and shoving his cock in that warm, wet mouth.
Avery swore to himself and rolled onto his belly. His cock throbbed, and he wished he’d gotten off in the bars Nathan had frequented days ago. Maybe a handjob would have relieved this constant ache. For Nathan.
Avery groaned. He had a habit of being honest with himself. For months now, he’d been trying to convince himself to ignore the truth. He wanted Nathan more than was healthy. He still didn’t know if he liked the guy, but Jesus, he wanted to fuck that beautiful man. To feel Nathan’s firm ass glove his cock, to watch that talented mouth swallow him whole, suck on his balls, lick at his ass.
Without meaning to, he blanked out…into a vision.
“Dammit. Wake up.”
Still lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, Avery blinked into Nathan’s face. The low light in the hallway played over concerned green eyes and a mouth pinched with worry.
“You okay? You were moaning and moving.” Nathan sounded stilted, as if he had a hard time breathing. His gaze had drifted to Avery’s bare ass, the sheets gathered around his thighs.
Avery suddenly recalled his vision—an erotic, playful interlude that had him so hard. Without giving himself a chance to think, he rolled over and yanked Nathan down with him.
“What the—Hey!”
Before Nathan could say another word, Avery kissed him. The blistering intensity of his need scorched him with desire when he thrust his tongue into Nathan’s mouth, and Nathan reciprocated. The hands bracing against his shoulders softened into a hold. Then Nathan pulled him tighter so their bare chests touched.
“Yes. God, yes,” Nathan whispered as he all but devoured Avery.
The passion between them was as dangerous as Avery had suspected it might be. But he didn’t care. He wanted nothing more than to come with Nathan. His cock brushed against Nathan’s boxer briefs, the soft feel of cotton covering an equally impressive erection driving him insane.