Pas de Deux

by Jamie Craig

  He made a beeline for Duke, but there wasn’t even a hint of pleasure at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

  For a moment, words failed him. He’d never heard that tone come from Scott, not directed at him, at least. He stalled by standing, pulling himself to his full height. Meeting Scott’s cool gaze helped him find his voice.

  “We had plans.”

  Scott’s gaze was still hard, still trained on Duke like he wasn’t exactly sure what Duke wanted from him. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

  “Nothing says we have to eat. Didn’t you say something about a drink?”

  Scott blinked, and now his eyes softened. Slightly. “Yeah, I did, but…look, I’m just not…I’m not in the mood right now.”

  The two attorneys who had sat with Scott hovered in the background, prompting Duke to take a step closer. On a whim, he rested his hand on Scott’s shoulder and squeezed, hoping he would take it as reassurance.

  “I’m sorry about the verdict, James,” he said, pitching his voice lower. “For what it’s worth, you gave him the best chance he had.”

  He waited for a beat, then gently shrugged Duke’s hand away. “No, if I had, he wouldn’t be cooling his heels in jail right now and terrified out of his fucking mind.”

  The urge to grab Scott again almost overtook him, but Duke reined it in at the last moment. He didn’t back away, though. He wasn’t going to give Scott the satisfaction. “So what are you going to do?”

  Scott turned long enough to nod at his colleagues. They both frowned at him, but went on their way without pressing for an explanation. “I am probably going to have that drink. But I think it would be best if I had it alone.”

  “No.” The refusal surprised even Duke. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “You don’t think that’s wise? Who asked you?”

  “Nobody. But someone very smart said to me recently, nothing good has ever come from getting drunk. I’m returning the favor.”

  Scott exhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Fine. That’s fine. I just want to get the hell out of here.” He brushed past Duke with what was almost a shoulder check.

  A smart man might have let Scott go. He was upset. Angry. Clearly desired to be left alone. The day before, Duke just might have let him leave, too. He had nothing invested in the Jenkins case. It didn’t matter to him whether the young man got off or not. This had absolutely no bearing on Duke whatsoever.

  Except it mattered to James. And a lot had transpired in the past twenty-four hours, including a concerned Scott offering comfort in the middle of the night.

  If it mattered to James, it mattered to Owen.

  His heels clicked against the floor as he took long strides to meet up with Scott. He reached the door first, and held it open, cocking a single brow at James when their eyes met.

  “You wanted to leave, didn’t you?”

  “Why do I have the feeling that even if I got away from you, you’d trail me?”

  “Because you’re smart enough to know I don’t give up just because something’s proving difficult. Or someone, as the case may be.”

  Scott only shook his head and brushed past Duke. He walked with purpose until he reached the parking lot, then his steps faltered. Like he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what he wanted to do.

  “So…do you want to go somewhere in particular?” Scott looked over his shoulder. “Or are you just going to shadow me?”

  He hadn’t thought that far ahead, which surprised him. He’d been more concerned in sticking to James. But he heard himself saying, “Let’s go back to your place,” and knew that made the most sense. For both of them.

  Scott turned back to the lot with a shrug. One that Duke hoped meant agreement. Duke fell into step beside him. It’d be easy enough to pick up his car later that night or the next morning. If Scott thought it was odd that Duke intended to ride with him, he didn’t say anything. He barely even acknowledged Duke until they were both in his car.

  “I don’t know where it all went wrong. That’s the real shitty part of this. I can’t look to one day in court. I can’t point at one witness or one wrong question.” Scott started the car. “I thought things had gone perfectly.”

  Duke wasn’t the type to offer platitudes. He preferred action, facts. He could spit out statistics about crime versus conviction rates in the Bay Area, or discuss police methodology, but when it came time to offer condolences or support, he invariably found himself at a loss. He wasn’t entirely sure how to help Scott. He just knew he had to try.

  “So don’t focus on what happened. Focus on what you can yet still do. There’s an appeal process for a reason. If you truly believe this man didn’t do it, I know you’ll find a way to help him.”

  “I know he didn’t do it,” Scott muttered before snorting softly. He shot Duke a wry, bitter smile and added, “As much as anybody can know anything. I had a gut feeling about this one, too. Before I even met Sammy.”

  “Were there ever any other viable suspects?”

  “Yes, I thought so. Though obviously the DA’s office and the Grand Jury disagreed. I might step down and let Shelley take over the appeal.”

  “Don’t.” He refused to look away when Scott glanced at him again. “I could look over your evidence for you. Don’t give up until you don’t have a choice anymore.”

  Scott didn’t respond immediately. He was either completely focused on the task of navigating away from the courthouse, or he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard Duke’s offer.

  “No. The evidence…the evidence was fine. Maybe the alibi wasn’t airtight, but it was still solid enough. Maybe it was the jury?” Scott slammed his hand against the steering wheel with obvious frustration. “I thought I had a good one seated, but maybe I should have taken more time with the selection. Or maybe this one was fixed, too.”

  “You can’t go around assuming everything’s fixed.”

  “What do you think? It’s possible to be only a little bit corrupt?” Scott dug through his pocket, then pulled out a recorder nearly identical to the one he had already given Duke. “Listen to this and tell me I don’t have reason to suspect a fix.”

  He took the recorder, but didn’t play it yet, more than a little worried at the harsh tone of Scott’s voice. “If we stop believing the system works, what’s the point in doing our jobs?”

  “I don’t have any issue with the system. It’s the men who have no compunction about manipulating and degrading the system to get what they want that I’m worried about. And what’s a few more bodies to them? What’s a little blood to grease the wheels, right?”

  This wasn’t about Jenkins anymore. Duke didn’t know why he knew that, but his instincts refused to be ignored. He glanced down at the recorder in his hand, turning it over and over before hitting play. Scott’s voice filled the car, followed by Young’s, and Duke listened in mute fascination to the very brief exchange.

  “It makes a difference,” Scott on the recorder said. Then, the machine fell silent, only the electric hum of dead space emanating from the tiny speaker.

  “It isn’t men you’re angry with,” Duke said. “I’m willing to bet it’s just one. Horan.”

  “Horan. Whoever is aiding and abetting him. I don’t believe he’s working alone. He can’t be.” Scott braked to a stop at a red light, his fingers drumming an absentminded, but frantic, rhythm. “I think I’m angry with everybody right now.”

  Without focus, Scott was in no place to talk about the case or what Duke had learned. That left trying to make small talk, which was not Duke’s strong suit. Still, he knew he had to try and offered a small smile. “I hope I’m not included with that everybody. Because this is going to be a very long night, if that’s the case.”

  Scott looked over, and the dark shadow seemed to be lifting from his eyes. “No. It probably should since you won’t let me sulk and brood in peace.”

  “Turnabout is fair play.” He held the recorder out for Scott to take bac
k. “Besides, you don’t wear the frown as well as you do the smile.”

  “So you’re saying you like my smile?”

  “Is that going to bring it back?”

  “Maybe if I hear the words.”

  “I like a lot of things about you. Your smile’s just part of a long list.”

  The statement had the desired effect. Both corners of Scott’s mouth lifted. It wasn’t a wide smile. It wasn’t even close to Scott’s usual charming smile. But it was better than the frown that marred his features, like a thin crack through the face of a mirror.

  “That did help. A little.”

  “What else would help? Other than stringing Horan up and setting him loose in San Quentin.”

  “You can start by promising me that he’s not going to get away with all this shit.” Scott sighed and shook his head. “Not that you really have the ability to make a promise like that. Are you…do you need to leave tonight?”

  He should. The knowledge that Horan was after Young for something that Tana supposedly would have had, combined with the fact that he and his men had been nosing around Woodson, was more than enough to give them a new spot in which to dig, a far more dangerous spot considering how much power the DA actually wielded. Scott would likely welcome the distraction of work if he suggested he come along, too. He didn’t want Young to be in jail any longer than necessary, especially after the results of the Jenkins case.

  But from the sound of Scott’s voice, he knew that wasn’t what Scott actually needed. Perhaps it wasn’t what Duke needed, either.

  “I’d rather stay with you,” he said. “May I?”

  “Of course. Especially since I expected you to inform me of your intention to stay, anyway.” He made a quick left, which put him on the one-way street leading to his apartment building. “I just…fuck. I just wish I was in a better mood tonight. Everything’s just been a fucking…disaster.”

  “Not everything.” This was unfamiliar territory for Duke, though traversing it felt like his only option, both out of necessity and desire. “If none of this had happened, we might not have crossed paths.”

  Scott cocked his head, considering that for a few moments. “I suppose breakfast wasn’t a disaster this morning. Kissing you certainly wasn’t a disaster.”

  “And tonight won’t be either. That, I can promise.”

  Chapter 12

  Walking into Scott’s place was starting to feel all too familiar. But as he crossed the threshold, Duke realized he hadn’t really thought this through all the way. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do next, now that he’d actually gotten Scott home.

  “Should we order some food in?” he asked. “I wiped out your kitchen this morning, remember?”

  “Yeah, good idea.” He dropped his briefcase on the floor without a second glance and pulled a stack of tri-folded, glossy menus from the table beside the door. “I have these. You can pick something. Anything you like. I’m not really that hungry.”

  Duke was, surprisingly enough, though he felt a little guilty about not getting something specifically to target Scott’s desires. He flipped through the menus, not to see what looked good to him, but to scan which ones had had the most wear. Those would be the ones Scott used most often.

  “This one.” He held out the menu for a Thai place around the corner. Several entrees had penciled marks next to them. “I don’t think I’ve had Thai before. It sounds interesting.”

  Scott took the menu from him, glanced over it, and nodded. “I was actually thinking about that earlier today. Wondering if you enjoyed Thai food. Do you want me to order for you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He gave Scott space to pull out his cell and make the call by moving farther into the living room and slipping off his jacket. Draping it carefully over the back of a chair, he then set to removing his holster. He wanted Scott to be comfortable. Hell, he wanted to be comfortable. For a few hours, he wanted to forget about everything his weapon represented.

  Duke had apparently chosen well, because the conversation was extremely brief and to the point. They not only recognized Scott, but they obviously knew Scott’s regular order and his address.

  “It’ll be here in about thirty minutes,” Scott said as he pocketed his phone. “And if you don’t like it, we can order something else in.”

  “If I don’t like it, I’ll just get you to make some of your banana foster.”

  “I’m feeling so distracted right now, I’m not sure if I should be handling an open flame. Or be anywhere near an open flame, for that matter.” He collapsed to the nearest chair and loosened his tie. “You ever make banana foster?”

  “No. I guess I’m out of luck then.”

  Thirty minutes. It wasn’t enough time to really accomplish anything, but he could still take advantage of the window it gave him to help Scott relax, to help himself forget. And what he wanted most in that moment was to erase the distance between them.

  He moved behind the chair and rested his hands on Scott’s shoulders. Carefully, he began to knead the tight muscles, seeking out the knots he knew were there. “You don’t mind if I do this, do you?” he asked, just to be certain.

  Scott caught his breath, then released it in a prolonged moan. “No. God, no. This feels amazing.” His head dropped forward. “You might have missed your calling.”

  Duke smiled. Emboldened by Scott’s response, he pushed his thumbs into the tight knobs at the top of his spine, rubbing in small circles until he was rewarded with another moan.

  “I’ve thought about touching you all day,” he confessed. “It was hard to leave this morning.”

  “I’m actually glad you had the strength to go. Because I was certainly in no position to send you on your way. Which, of course, you heard.”

  Memories of the sounds James had made in the next room flushed heat through Duke’s body. He was very glad he stood behind the chair. His sudden erection would have been more than a little embarrassing, but he’d been aroused that morning as well, knowing James was jerking off in bed, most likely because of him.

  “Does it make it better if I admit to doing the same thing in the shower after you left?”

  Scott moaned again. “I suppose that depends on your definition of better. Actually…I think regardless of your definition, that information makes everything better.” He reached up to touch the back of Duke’s hand with a light caress. “In my shower?”

  At the tender contact, goose bumps crawled up his arm, disappearing beneath his cuff. “You told me to use the guest shower.” His voice was starting to go hoarse. “I didn’t want to abuse your hospitality.”

  “I think in this case, I probably would have forgiven whatever liberties you took.” Scott sighed, a light shudder going through his body as Duke found one particularly large knot just below his shoulder. “Seriously, where did you learn how to do this?”

  He contented himself on focusing on James for a couple minutes, kneading at the tension in his muscles until it relinquished its control. Seeing him slumping forward was worth every second of concentration it took. The only thing better would be seeing him sprawled naked on a bed.

  “The first serious relationship I had was with a guy who thought he was going to be the next Wayne Gretzky. Except he spent more time getting banged up on the ice than anything else. I spent most of the little bit of time we actually saw each other, giving him massages.”

  “It sounds like you were a very dutiful boyfriend,” Scott muttered. “So did he ever make it? Would I recognize his name?”

  “No, he got to play for some minor league team on the east coast. I haven’t heard from him in years.” The short hairs on the back of Scott’s neck were too tempting to ignore. Smoothing his hands down to Scott’s biceps, Duke bent over and skimmed his lips along the man’s nape, his mouth prickling at the texture. “Don’t think I was so dutiful. Think more along the lines of willing to do whatever it took to get my hands on him.”

  “I’d take hands-on over dutiful any day o
f the week.” The words seemed to come at great effort as Scott’s breath caught in his throat. There were goose bumps where Duke had just touched, and he couldn’t resist brushing his mouth across the same patch of skin. His fingers tightened on Scott’s biceps, and heat soaked through the shirt. Heat that made Duke wish the shirt wasn’t there at all.

  “Maybe you just need a professional masseuse on retainer.” Though the thought of somebody else doing this to James had Duke seeing red.

  “I’ve never heard of a professional masseuse that uses this sort of technique.” He arched back slightly, as if trying to force more contact with Duke’s mouth. “Not a reputable one.”

  Duke straightened, settling his hands back on Scott’s shoulders. Food would be arriving any time. He couldn’t push things too fast too soon. They had all night, after all. And if it drove James a little crazy not having Duke’s mouth on him, well, that was even better.

  “Did you find out anything today?” Scott looked over his shoulder with heavy eyes. “Is that why you came to meet me at court?”

  “It was productive.” That was as much as he wanted to concede. Talk about the cases would wind up Scott even further. “But I came because I wanted to see you.” He jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Do you want me to get you one of those drinks you wanted?”

  “I would love one, but I should warn you.” He caught Duke’s hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips against the pulse point. “If you keep spoiling me like this, you’re never going to get rid of me.”

  Duke chuckled. “I couldn’t get rid of you when I wasn’t spoiling you.” He caressed Scott’s cheek for a scant moment, absorbing heat, memorizing texture, before pulling away. “Relax. I’ll be right back.”

  He hurried to pour two whiskeys without making it look like he didn’t want to be away from Scott, even if that was the truth. The tenor of this whole night was changing in ways he hadn’t anticipated when he’d first pulled up to the courthouse. At least Scott wasn’t brooding on the judgment, though. The one thing Duke had learned tonight was he hated seeing him like that.