Trez walked over to the pile of clothes by the end of the bed. “Put these back on and get out.”
God, he was tired.
“Oh, come on,” she whined as her things fluttered all around her. “I just wanted to surprise you when you got home from work. I thought this would make you happy.”
“Well, it doesn’t. You need to get the fuck out—” As she opened her mouth like she was going to go psycho on him, he shook his head and cut her off. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not in the mood, and my brother over here really doesn’t care whether you walk out of here or get carried out in a bag. Get dressed. Get out.”
The chippie looked back and forth again. “You were so nice to me the other night.”
Trez winced as the pain stepped up to the plate and started swinging on the right side of his head. “Honey, I’m going to be real honest here. I don’t even know your name. We banged twice—”
“Three times—”
“I don’t care how many it was. What I do know is that you’re going to let this go tonight. If you come around me or my place again, I’m going to…” The Shadow in him wanted to go in a more blood-thirsty direction, but he forced himself to stay on human terms she’d understand. “…call the police. And you don’t want that, because you’re a drug addict who deals on the side, and if they search your shit, your car, your place, they’re going to find more than just paraphernalia. They’re going to bust you and that idiot meathead you’re sleeping with for possession with intent to distribute, and you’re going to fucking jail.”
The chippie just blinked.
“Don’t push me, sweetie,” Trez said in an exhausted voice. “You won’t like what happens.”
Say what you would about the kid; she was quick when she was properly motivated. A matter of moments later, after some yoga poses to get that plastic rack squeezed into a “blouse” that was two sizes too small, she was on her way, cheapie purse slung over her shoulder, her skyscraper stillies dangling from the ankle straps.
Trez didn’t say another word. Just followed in her wake to the door, opened the way out…and shut the thing in her face as she turned around to say something.
He threw the lock manually.
iAm put his weapon away. “We need to move. This location is compromised.”
His brother was right. It wasn’t like they’d kept where they lived a big-ass secret, but staying at the Commodore was predicated on the idea that a security guard wouldn’t be stupid enough to let a woman into someone’s place without the permission of the owners.
If that could happen once, it could happen again—
Abruptly, the pain intensified, like the volume on his cranial concert from hell had suddenly been cranked.
“I’m going to go throw up for a while,” Trez mumbled as he wheeled away. “We’ll start packing as soon as this migraine is over….”
He had no idea what iAm replied, or even if the guy did.
Fuck.
SIXTY-FOUR
Standing outside the training center’s examination room, Qhuinn had his hands in the pockets of his leathers, his teeth locked tight, and his brows drawn all the way together.
Waiting. Waiting…
Medical shit was a lot like fighting, he decided: long periods of nothing doing, interjected with bursts of life-or-death.
It was enough to stamp you certifiable.
He glanced over at the door. “How much longer do you think it will be?”
Across the way, Blay crossed and uncrossed his long legs. The guy had stretched out on the floor about a half hour ago, but that had been his only concession to the wormhole of time they’d been sucked into.
“It’s got to be winding down now,” he replied.
“Yeah. Only so many parts to a body, right.”
After a moment, Qhuinn focused on the other male properly. There were dark circles under Blay’s eyes, and his cheeks had hollowed out. He was also paler than usual, his face far too light.
Qhuinn went over, leaned against the wall, and let his shitkickers slide out until his ass hit the floor next to Blay’s.
Blay glanced up and smiled a little, then resumed staring at the tips of his boots.
Qhuinn watched as his own hand reached out and brushed his friend’s jaw. As Blay started and looked over, Qhuinn was surprised to find he wanted to do so much more—and not sexually. He wanted to draw the male across his lap and have Blay put his head down. He wanted to stroke those strong shoulders and pass his fingers through that short red hair. He wanted to get some passerby to find a blanket and bring it over, so he could wrap some warmth around the powerful body that seemed to have been weakened.
Qhuinn forced his eyes away and dropped his hand.
God, he felt so fucking…trapped. Even though there were no chains on him.
Glancing down, he double-checked his wrists. Ankles. Yup, totally free over here. Nothing holding him back.
Closing his lids, he tilted his head back against the wall. In his mind, he was touching Blay—and again, not sexually. Just feeling the vitality beneath the skin, the shift of the muscle, the solidity of the bone.
“I think you should go see Selena,” he said to the guy.
Blay exhaled as if he had someone sitting on his chest. “Yeah. I know.”
“We could go together,” Qhuinn heard himself volunteer.
He opened his eyes in time to see Blay’s head whip around.
“Or you could, you know, do it on your own.” Qhuinn cracked his knuckles. “Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
Shit. In light of the whole Saxton thing, that might go too far. Feeding, after all, could be seen as more intimate than sex—
“Yeah,” Blay said softly. “I’ll do that.”
Qhuinn’s heart started to beat hard. And again, it wasn’t because he was all hopped to get it on with the guy. He just wanted to…
Share, he supposed was the right word.
No, wait. It went further than that. He wanted to take care of the male.
“You know, I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Qhuinn murmured. As Blay’s baby blues shot over, he wanted to look away—the eye contact was almost too much. But then he thought of his brother in that hospital bed—and all the ways people got robbed of time.
Jesus, he’d held so much in for so many reasons—all of which had seemed perfectly valid. But how arrogant was that? That kind of reticence assumed he’d have the time to talk about stuff when he wanted. That the person he had in the back of his mind would always be around. That he himself would be.
“For what?” Blay asked.
“For driving us home. Me and Luchas.” He heaved a great breath in and let it out slowly. “And for sitting out here with me all night. For going to Payne and getting her to help. For backing me up on the field, and during training. Also, for all those beers and video games. The chips and the M&M’s. The clothes I borrowed. The floor I slept on when I stayed over. Thanks for letting me hug your mom and talk with your dad. Thank you…for the ten thousand kind things you’ve done.”
From out of nowhere, he thought once again of that night when he’d walked in and witnessed his father giving that gold signet ring to his brother.
“Thank you for calling that night,” he said gruffly.
Blay’s eyebrows shot up. “Which night?”
Qhuinn cleared his throat. “After Luchas went through his change, and my father gave him…you know, the ring.” He shook his head. “I went up to my room and I was going to do something…yeah, something really stupid. You called me. You came over. Do you remember?”
“I do.”
“It wasn’t the only time you did something like that.”
As Blay looked away, Qhuinn knew exactly where the guy’s mind had gone. Yup, that night hadn’t been the only ledge he’d nearly jumped off of.