by Jessie G
It was impossible to believe even as he walked the two steps around the entry wall and saw with his own eyes. Dressed in black sweats and a tank top, the embodiment of his every wet dream stood at the stove cooking as if he had every right.
“Are you going to say something or just stare at my ass until dinner’s done?”
Holy shit, he had been staring at that ass and who the hell could blame him? Didn’t he know firsthand how fine that ass looked and felt? “What the fuck, Ric? What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“Cooking dinner so we can eat before we run, and I have a key,” Alaric answered without turning and continued to move food around a frying pan as if he had the first fucking clue how to cook. He never cooked or rarely ever cooked in the years they spent together.
Dumbfounded, Davin wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “You have a key?”
“Yep.” The spatula-free hand gestured toward the small breakfast bar. “It’s over there with my wallet if you want to take it.”
Obviously, there was no point in bothering. “You have copies.”
“Of course, I do.”
Of course, you do. You are Alaric Bennett and locked doors just magically open for you.
Then the rest of his words registered. “We aren’t running anywhere.”
“You didn’t come home to run?” Alaric finally looked over his shoulder, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifting as if to say, ‘who are you trying to kid?’ That subtle arrogance directly affected Davin’s libido and Alaric knew it. “Right. That’s what I thought.”
“If you came here to talk…”
“Do I look like I want to fucking talk?” Slamming the spatula on the stove, Alaric turned, reached out and curled a hand around the back of his neck, shrinking the already small space between them to nothing. “Or that either of us is ready for that conversation? You need to eat, you need to run, and you need to sleep. In that order. Go get changed.”
“Ric.” Davin was appalled to hear the helplessness in his tone, the one that begged Alaric to complete the embrace and finally give him a safe place to rest.
“Go get changed, Davin, now.”
With their foreheads touching, Davin could see that he wasn’t the only one all tied up in their emotions. That Alaric, who had always been so strong, was barely holding it together. In that moment, Davin realized he expected Alaric to take the news of his brother’s death, delivered by an ex-lover, the way he did everything else. With strength and stoicism, do what needs to be done and never show any emotion. Except with Davin, Alaric never hid them, and it was ridiculous to think he would start now.
No, they weren’t ready for that conversation and Alaric was right about what he needed, so retreat seemed the obvious choice. This—the dinner, the pretense of caring about what he needed—was nothing more than a way to ease some guilt. Maybe if he let Alaric get it out of his system, they could both move on.
“Yes, Ric.”
Chapter Four
Alaric
He didn’t want to be pleased by the response. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all, but damned if that familiar zing of pleasure didn’t whip through him.
Yes, Ric.
How many times had he heard Davin say those two words? How many years had he missed out on hearing them? It was absolutely the wrong time to be thinking about it, and yet, if he were honest with himself, this was exactly why he’d come.
Or at least part of why he’d come.
When Davin showed up that morning looking utterly destroyed, all the protective instincts Alaric had been forced to suppress came raging to the surface. As they faced each other in the study, Davin stood with his back ramrod straight, shoulders square, and head held high—six feet of brawny cop doing what had to be the hardest part of the job—but all Alaric saw were his eyes. Dark, haunted, deep set from exhaustion, and nearly black with repressed emotion.
Davin had always looked rough with a chiseled jaw and defined cheek bones, both accented by a tightly cropped beard that immediately drew attention to his mouth. Most of the time, it was just a slash between beard and mustache, increasing that rough and ready look, but when he smiled, it was transformative. That morning he looked more than rough, almost vicious, and Alaric couldn’t quell the need to save him from the position he put himself in.
“What can I do?” Davin’s voice broke through his thoughts and Alaric saw that he’d changed into sweats. Alaric knew he was in prime physical shape, but while he might have Davin by a few inches in height, Davin took him in brawn.
“Nothing. It’s on the bar.”
Watching Davin perch on the barstool to eat, Alaric struggled not to comment on the apparent lack of anything in the apartment. There were no tables or chairs, so the only place to sit was at the kitchen bar where there was only one stool. Alaric didn’t mind standing. He minded seeing the total lack of opportunity for a second person to be in the space. If that wasn’t a metaphor for Davin’s mindset, what was?
But he didn’t have the right to complain about Davin’s living conditions, so he focused on the inch he had already taken. “Have you eaten today?”
“No.”
“Yesterday?”
“Maybe, probably something along the way.” Which probably meant no and they both knew it. “This is good. What is it?”
“Carbonara.”
“It’s good.”
“You said that already.”
Davin froze, fist curled around his fork and gaze focused on his nearly empty plate. But despite being clearly starving, he didn’t take another bite.
“You need to run.”
“Yeah.”
Annoyed by the whole stilted conversation, Alaric added the rest of his portion to Davin’s plate and said, “Then finish and we’ll go.”
After grudgingly accepting Alaric’s uneaten share, Davin grabbed his iPod and keys and let Alaric precede him out the door. Headphones stuck in his ears, he led the way to the stairs and pounded down one floor after another, Alaric at his heels. At the base, he slammed through the side door and they took off in a sprint, step for glorious step. The rush of it, running together again, felt so right that Alaric left his own headphones in his pocket, opting instead for the music of Davin beside him, each fluid step and measured breath transporting him back to their first meeting.
It would have been a beautiful fall morning if not for the fact that Grandmother Bennett had passed away two days before. Barely eighteen at the time, it was Alaric’s first real experience with death, and he wasn’t a fan. The entire house reeked of funeral flowers and echoed with sobbing as the never-ending parade of family, friends, and delivery men trailed through. Bethany Ann, nearly ten years younger, had crawled into his bed terrified that everyone was going to die, him and their parents included. It had taken over an hour to calm her down and get her back in her room so he could escape.
He didn’t have a destination in mind and wasn’t sure what prompted him to head toward the school. It was still dark when he circled around the building and headed toward the track where someone had turned on a light for the lone runner. Creeping into the bleachers, he watched curiously, concentrating on each step the boy took. Tall, lean and graceful, his step never faltered, his pace measured and smooth. The dim lighting hid his features, but Alaric was enthralled.
“Running will help.” Those were Davin’s first words to him as he rounded the track near the bleachers and looked up as if he could see him through the darkness. They measured each other and though Alaric had never been a runner before, he believed him. Stepping down from the bleachers, neither mentioned that he wasn’t dressed to run, nor did Davin complain about having to pull his stride back to match Alaric’s less graceful pace. They just ran until the burn in Alaric's’ legs and lungs wiped out all other thought, and the first rays of light painted the sky.
At Davin’s insistence, they took the last lap at a brisk walk and when they reached the gate, he pulled a backpack from the bushes and tossed hi
m a bottle of water. “Drink it all.”
Between gulps, Alaric tried to make conversation, jerking his head toward the high school. “You go here?”
“No, too fancy for my tastes. You?”
“Yeah. But you run here?”
“Every day.” He reached for Alaric’s now empty bottle, tossing it in the pack. “Feel better?”
Alaric had to admit, “I feel like my legs fell off and my lungs are on fire.”
Davin smiled. “Yeah, feels good, right? Alive?”
“Yes.” That was it exactly. He felt alive. Davin smiled again, nodded and started out of the gate. Without thinking, Alaric reached for his arm. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” But they both looked down at his hand.
“My name’s Alaric.”
“Davin.” When that didn’t get him released, he admitted, “My deal with the maintenance crew is that I’m off property before the students start arriving.”
“Oh.” Alaric released him and nodded. “Tomorrow morning then?”
“I’m usually here by four.” Davin started to turn away then stepped back and lowered his voice. “You may want to splash some water on your face before you go inside.”
Confused, Alaric touched a hand to his cheek and was surprised when it came away wet. Horrified, he swiped at both cheeks as he watched Davin walk away. They ran every morning after that and Davin never mentioned the tears, never asked why, but then Davin had tears of his own he didn’t want questioned.
“There should be clean towels in my closet.” Back at the apartment, Davin reached for his backpack and pulled out his files, “You can have the shower first. I need to get this down.”
This, Alaric knew, was whatever revelation came to him during their run. For Alaric, running was about emptying the mind but for Davin, it was about organizing it. Leaving him to it, he found the only bathroom through the bedroom, dug out a towel and a pair of pajama bottoms from Davin’s closet, and headed for the shower. Arms braced against the wall, he closed his eyes and just let the water pour over him as the time warp sucked him under again.
“Sorry about the mess.”
They had been running together every morning for three months, just running. Beyond first names, they hadn’t exchanged any other information, so when Davin missed a morning, Alaric had no way of finding out why. After two days, he located the maintenance worker who turned out to be Davin’s neighbor. He’d seen them running together and was more than willing to give up Davin’s address.
“I don’t care about the mess.” Davin was stiff as he led him into the small house, picking up as he went. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” Davin must have realized there was no point in pretending because he followed that immediately with, “I picked up a job in the mornings before school.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“Was I supposed to think to tell you?”
“It would have been the fucking courteous thing to do instead of leaving me hanging the last two days.”
“Courteous…? You must have me confused with one of your private school friends or did you miss the neighborhood you drove your fancy car into?”
“You're trying to come off as the big bad tough guy, but it’s not going to work on me. What the fuck is going on, Davin? And don’t lie to me.”
“I told you, I got a job in the mornings.”
“Why?”
“Look, I won’t lie to you, but I’m not going to paint the bleak picture for you either. I got a job because my family needed me to. It’s that simple.”
“And when are you making time to run? Don’t tell me you’re not. I know you need it.”
“I haven’t figured it out yet. There are only so many hours in the day.”
“After school?”
“I work.”
“You work before and after school?”
“Yes.”
Alaric wouldn’t insult him by looking around, but it was impossible not to see how poorly the Monroe’s had provided for their son. Who was he to tell him not to provide for himself? “You are still going to school, right?”
“Of course, I am.”
“Well, its noon and you’re home.”
“Well, clearly you’re not in class either.”
“I was worried about you.” It was the sheer bafflement on Davin’s face that made Alaric bridge the distance until there was barely a breath between them. Then it was the wariness that made him cup that face in his hands. “I was worried about you.”
“Why?”
Despite every reason it could backfire on their budding friendship, Alaric followed his instincts and kissed him. Nothing crazy. Just a lingering brush of their lips before pulling back enough to see Davin’s eyes. “Do you know why now?”
“The bathroom’s all yours.” Even though Davin looked up from his laptop, Alaric knew he wasn’t seeing anything. “You need to shower and rest.”
“Can you be impartial?”
Probably not. “If you need me to be.”
Davin tapped his pen thoughtfully. “I think I’m onto something.”
“Talk to me.”
“I shouldn’t…shit, this is fucked up. One of my victim’s is your brother.”
“Is that any more or less fucked up than saying one of your victim’s is your rapist?” Alaric hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way, had planned it with much more finesse, but there was no way to take the words back.
Eyes wide, Davin whispered, “How long have you known?”
“Terence called me about a year ago, high on something, and told me the truth.”
“Why bother confessing after all this time?”
“I don’t know.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but Alaric didn’t see any point in telling Davin that Terence wasn’t confessing so much as bragging. Tormenting. Determined to hurt him again. He wasn’t sure they’d ever be ready for that conversation.
“That’s the past,” Davin murmured, though who he was trying to convince was anyone’s guess. “I have even less power to change it now than I did to stop it then. It can’t matter to this case. All the victims and their families deserve justice.”
“What about you? Don’t you deserve justice?”
“It’s a little late for that now,” Davin snapped. “Don’t you think?”
No, he didn’t think that at all. There had to be a way and he wouldn’t stop until he found it. “You need to tell the Captain about your relationship with my family.”
“What the hell for? He’ll kick me off the case!”
“Whether you like it or not, I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not tomorrow, and for damn sure not after you catch this killer.” Not unless Davin told him to go, and while his detective did a lot of complaining, he hadn’t uttered those words. “And we both know my family isn’t capable of hiding their affection for you. So, man up and tell the truth.”
“All of you need so fucking much. What about what I need?”
Alaric closed the distance between them, not stopping until he was right in Davin’s space. “Go ahead. Tell me you don’t need me or us and look at me in the eye when you say it. Make sure I believe it.”
“We cannot have this conversation right now. Don’t you get it? There’s a killer out there and it’s my job to stop him. This shit—” He waved a hand between them— “is about making you feel better about what happened eight years ago, but you’re asking too much. I can’t take on the feelings of the entire Bennett clan and still be an effective cop!”
“What about your own feelings?”
“Unless they’re going to help me solve the case, they don’t matter.” Davin shook his head. “You have to see that.”
“You aren’t going to believe me if I say that, yes, facing them absolutely will help, so why bother?” He let the challenge sit there for a moment, knowing Davin was too stubborn to give in, even if it was for his own good. “You’re drowning in your own emotions because you don’t have anyone to share them
with. I can help you.”
“We are not going down that path, Ric, so get it out of your fucking head.”
“For a second there, Detective, it sounded like you thought you had a choice.”
“You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
Alaric watched him walk off toward the bathroom, cursing as he went, and felt a little rush of victory. It wouldn’t last, but he would enjoy it while it did.
Chapter Five
Davin
“Shoot me the location. I’m on my way.”
Rolling to sit on the side of the bed, Davin was grabbing his jeans off the end table when the mattress shifted behind him. Disoriented, he realized there was an arm draped around his hip, connecting him to the person that had been holding him all night. The person that had pushed their way into his home and insisted he needed to be taken care of, whether he liked it or not.
There was only one person who would have the balls: Alaric.
And there was no question that he liked it, even if he would never admit it.
When they climbed into bed, he had purposely faced the wall, putting as much distance between them as the queen-sized mattress would allow—which was none. Instead, he fell asleep acutely aware of the warmth of Alaric’s body and at some point, must have rolled in search of the embrace Alaric was eager to give.
“Get ready. I’ll make your coffee.”
Davin should have told him to fuck off and get out. Instead, he nodded and told himself it was pointless to refuse the offer. For whatever reason, Alaric had dug in and he couldn’t afford to take the time to shake him loose. There was another body waiting on the beach and that person deserved his attention now.
Four minutes later, he was standing at the kitchen bar aware of Alaric watching as he went through the motions. Wallet and phone in the front right pocket, gun in the shoulder harness, backup in the boot, badge on his belt, and coffee cup in hand. Set to leave, he finally allowed himself to look at the cooler bag Alaric had also placed on the counter.
