18% Gray

by Anne Tenino

  “Seriously?” James stared at her. “You woke me up because you’re bored?” She neighed and bobbed her head, nearly whacking him. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Fine, you can keep watch with me.” He picked up the rifle and stomped toward the stream, with Miz right behind him. She nickered at him happily.

  He woke Matt up a few hours before sundown. Matt stared blearily around while James nagged him into drinking and eating. He wasn’t doing very well. With the meds and the nanos, he should be a lot better than this after thirteen hours of sleep.

  “Let’s look at your shoulder, Matty.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “C’mon, I need to see. There shouldn’t be any danger of reopening an artery now. We have extra pressure patches now that we’ve got the mountie’s supplies, anyway.”

  Matt stared at him balefully, but set down the cup he’d been drinking from as James crouched in front of him. Matt grabbed his hand for a second as James reached for him. “I think it’s bad, James.” James just squeezed his hand before disentangling it. He had to look; Matt knew that.

  James unsealed Matt’s shirt, trying not to get distracted. His fingers lightly brushed Matt’s pale, smooth skin, pulling the sides of the shirt open. James could swear Matt shivered a little. Or maybe that was him. Distractedly, James pulled off the first pressure patch. It wrapped all the way around the deltoid and ball of Matt’s shoulder. After he pulled off the patch, he spent a few seconds tracing his fingertips down the smooth skin on Matt’s back.

  Then he saw the wound, and nothing could distract him from that. “Holy living shit!” He was nearly shouting. Way to keep the patient calm.

  “What?” Matt was staring straight ahead, into James’s neck, refusing to look down at the wound.

  Matt’s shoulder was hamburger. Red, mostly healthy-looking hamburger, but raw and exposed. James could see his white collarbone peeking out. The wound was barely seeping blood, no gushers. It would need to be cleaned. The nano-menders and the time-release antibiotics James had given him helped keep it healthy, but he needed to get the dead tissue out.

  How many times had he treated someone in the field? Fifty? More? This was the first time he’d so seriously underestimated the damage. Hopefully. James swallowed, his throat so dry it made a little clicking sound.

  “Yeah, it’s bad, Matt. Worse than I thought.” He raised his eyes to Matt’s face. Matt wouldn’t look at him. “Sorry.”

  Now Matt looked at him. “Sorry for what?”

  “I just… I underestimated the damage.”

  Matt looked at him quizzically. “So? You couldn’t have done anything else, right? Nothing more?”

  James thought about it. “No, I guess not.”

  “It’s just going to take longer than you thought to mend?”

  James nodded and swallowed again. “Yeah.”

  “So, nothing to be sorry for. Get me another pressure patch and we’ll put it back on. I don’t think you need to bother messing with the other one.” Matt still hadn’t looked at his shoulder wound.

  “I’m cleaning them, Matt.” Matt sighed but didn’t argue. James got started.

  “James?” Matt sounded hesitant.

  “Yeah?” James looked up from where he was numbing Matt’s shoulder, rubbing the local topical into undamaged skin.

  “I won’t—I mean, I’m not going to lose it, right?” Matt looked away. James stopped rubbing and he leaned forward, nosing Matt’s hair out of his way and gently kissing his forehead. Matt looked back, startled.

  “No. You’re not losing it.” James voice was firm. They stared at each other a second before Matt looked away again.

  Once James had cleaned the big stuff out, he put on a new pressure patch. It was the surest way to keep the gaping wound together and sterile while they traveled.

  He reached for the other wound. “Gotta clean out the arm, Matt.” Matt nodded, watching Miz Horse. He had a funny look on his face.

  “James, what’s she—?” But he didn’t finish before the percussive thrumming began in his prosthetic again. James could feel it, leaning against Matt’s leg. He stared at the leg a second in confusion. “James,” Matt said sharply. “She’s gotta get under the digi too.”

  Oh fuck. Here, Miz. The mare started over before he’d finished the thought. SAIA. Heat signatures. On your side, he told Miz as he reached for the knot that would bring the whole camo down on them.

  The digi-camo was visual camouflage, but it would confuse tech, especially NV, UV, and infrared. It wasn’t foolproof, but they’d been camped out under boulders all day, and James was banking on the sun-warmed boulders giving off enough heat that it would mask any leakage that came through the digi.

  “Jesus, that horse is smart,” Matt whispered.

  “She just did what I told her.” James was distractedly tucking the digi in around Miz. She nibbled at his shoulder as he leaned across her. He grabbed a treat from the saddlebag next to him and held it out to her, securing the digi on the other side with his other hand.

  Matt was curling into a ball on his side too. Imitating a boulder. “She doesn’t do what I tell her.”

  “Likes me, I guess.” James was too preoccupied to think about it. Matt dropped it. They were silent except for Miz’s crunching and whiffling. She gave a soft nicker. James shot her a glare, and she snorted in disgust but settled down.

  Soon, they could all feel thrumming in their bones. It had to be within five meters at most. James was expending most of his mental energy keeping Miz from moving. She was used to things like SAIA, but she’d never been in the position of hiding from them.

  He was staring at Miz when he felt a warm hand on his ankle. He flicked a glance at Matt. Matt’s eyes were closed, and his chest barely moved. He looked like he was resting peacefully. But his grip around James’s ankle was tight. James couldn’t decide if it was for his own comfort or Matt’s. Maybe both. He slipped a hand down and gripped Matt’s wrist.

  Then Miz gave a little snort, recalling him to what he really needed to be doing.

  Hint: It wasn’t mooning over some slim blond hottie while they were hiding under a blanket from a Stealth AI Aircraft with enough fire power on board to take out a small town. James forcibly removed his attention from his ankle (and his dick) and returned it to Miz.

  He kept his hand where it was, though.

  MATT was in something of a mental fog. Exhaustion, not fever, he was pretty sure. “Am I hot?” he murmured to James, just loud enough that he’d hear it.

  “Fuck,” James groaned. “Been trying not to think about that.” James’s arm gripped him a little tighter, pulling Matt just that much closer to his body.

  “So you think I might have a fever?” Matt was alarmed. An infected wound could lead to an amputation.

  James was silent for a minute. “Oh. That kinda hot. No.” His voice was rough and rumbly. And Matt could feel the blush against the side of his neck and ear.

  He smirked. Then, very deliberately, he scooted his hips back and ground his ass—just a little—into James’s groin.

  James gave a quiet groan. It was sexy as hell. “Matt,” he rumbled. Matt couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. Then he felt James’s lips skimming his neck, barely touching, just that rough chapped skin and those scratchy whiskers skating up toward his ear.

  A plea, then.

  Hot breath in his ear. Matt shivered. “Can’t do this now,” James was breathing more than whispering. Matt could feel James’s tongue flicking just behind the lobe. Then his teeth, nipping close to his spine.

  Or maybe more of a warning plea. Shit.

  “Yeah,” Matt whispered back, leaning into James more, rubbing his shoulder blades against James’s chest and arching his neck a little. He could feel James’s hard pecs pressing against him. Mmmmm. More shivers worked their way up his spine. “Should wait till we get to the convent.”

  “We’re going to fuck in a convent?”

  Matt smirked again. “It’s an RCC convent; see
ms appropriate.”

  James snorted in agreement, but then he gently pulled away from Matt. Moved his chest back and took his mouth from Matt’s ear. Matt shivered again, from the loss of warm, hot man. Obligingly, he scooted a bit forward.

  “Tell me about your family,” James said. An attempt to distract them both.

  “You pretty much know about them.”

  “No. Your grandparents. And I know you have a bunch of cousins.”

  Oh. The grandparent thing often confused people, even in this age of multiple blended families. “Well, technically Sid and Lance are my grampas. My mom was their daughter. But Anais is Sid’s twin, and she was the surrogate mother for my mom and Uncle Jackson. So we all sorta call her Gramma. Sometimes. If she’s in a good mood.”

  “So, what, your Uncle Jackson had a million kids?”

  “No, just two. Boy and girl twins. Must run in the family.” Matt was feeling sleepy, again. He zoned.

  James jostled him. “But you have other cousins, right? On your dad’s side?”

  “Mm, no, just one. Dad’s sister has a son. The grampas and Anais all had another kid together, Fleur. She was their niece, but her parents both died in the fighting in the Wallowas when she was little and all three of them adopted her. Fleur’s dad, my Great-Uncle Gabriel, was Sid and Anais’ older brother, and her mother was Grampa Lance’s little sister, Kylie. Fleur has four kids.”

  Matt wondered momentarily if that explanation had made any sense, but he figured James would ask if something was unclear. He leaned back against him, too tired to sit up by himself. He tried not to push his hips back into James again, though. He was moderately successful. James tightened his arm around Matt again, gripping him, running one thumb back and forth just under his left pec. “Mmmmm,” he breathed.

  “Sleep, Matty,” James rumbled against his ear. Matt shivered a little. He was about equal parts turned on and exhausted. He fell asleep against James, debating whether it would help matters or hurt if he asked for a jerk-off break.

  MATT didn’t wake up again until it was light. James was following a creek too small for its bed this time of year (as usual). The bank rose to a couple of feet over their heads, even on Miz Horse.

  He had to piss. Matt gave a jaw-cracking yawn, stretching as much as he could without hurting his shoulder, hitting James, or overbalancing. “Can we stop, soon?”

  “Morning. Yeah, couple hundred yards we should hit a tributary and—” James consulted Matt’s GPS. “—a farm. We go north from there, less than a kilometer from the convent.”

  They came around a bend and saw a wash that cut into the north side of the bank. They could see a barn a little up the way. “Kinda late in the morning. Farm should be up and out.” Still, they needed to keep a low profile.

  James brought Miz to a halt and swung off. He waited to help Matt down. Matt gave him a sour look. With his injured arm, getting down was tricky, but that didn’t mean he had to like needing help. He sighed and dismounted, James planting a hand on his back to steady him.

  Miz plodded over to the grassy base of the bank, and looked at Matt sourly. She flapped her lips around, baring her teeth at him. James laughed softly. “Wants you to take out her bit.”

  “Why does she want me to do it?”

  “Um… guess she thinks it’s your job.” James shrugged, turning away so Matt wouldn’t see his smirk. He wasn’t entirely successful. Or really successful at all.

  Matt grumbled, then stalked over to Miz and unfastened her bridle. She made a sound suspiciously like laughter as she bent her head to the grass.

  Matt knew it was petty, but he took great pleasure in pissing on an especially green, juicy-looking clump of grass. Miz Horse snorted at him, and turned her back. “I don’t get why she can communicate with you, but she orders me around.”

  James shrugged again, rearranging his pack. He took stuff from the saddlebags and Matt’s pack and sorted it, stuffing things he thought he might need into his. “Maybe ’cause she knows you can’t argue with her.”

  They decided it would be best if James scouted ahead, and Matt stayed with Miz and their stuff. James took the DEW rifle and left Matt with the pistol and shotgun.

  “Is it loaded with the horse-killing bullets?”

  Both James and Miz looked at him with the same expression. Like he’d just farted in church. “That’s not funny,” James said tonelessly. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”

  Matt felt like stomping his feet and pointing out that Miz was hurting his feelings. But he wasn’t ten anymore (dammit), so he settled for grumbling and dragging all their equipment under a shallow overhang, where he made himself somewhat comfortable.

  “There’s a walking trail about seventy meters north of us, paralleling the stream. If I don’t come back by noon, leave Miz.” He paused to think something at her that he didn’t share with Matt. She snorted and bobbed her head. “And head for the convent. There should be a sign at the cutoff trail.”

  “Okay,” Matt agreed. Then he wondered when he’d become comfortable taking James’s orders on this little adventure. He sighed. No use fighting it.

  “That sound like a plan to you?”

  Okay, that made him feel a little better. They were a democratic rescue team. “Yep, works for me.”

  James stared at him a few seconds before moving up the wash. “Let’s do a com check.” He handed one of the RIA com sets to Matt. Then they did a quick check, encryption on just in case. Matt turned his to receive for the time being.

  “I’ll keep it turned off ’til I’m headed back, unless I run into trouble. See you soon,” James said softly over his shoulder.

  Chapter 12

  “MATT, I’m returning to your location with a tail.” James’s voice in his ear startled Matt so badly he didn’t answer immediately. He might have been asleep.

  “Matt, acknowledge message received.”

  “Received,” Matt returned automatically. He rarely wore an ear-com unit and had never had a Brain-link installed. For a super secret agent man, he was really pretty low-tech. Came with keeping the low profile.

  “You need to get Miz to leave. Sister Immaculata told me a little story about a mountie who was killed and whose horse was stolen.”

  “Gotcha.” Matt looked at Miz, not more than ten feet away. She looked back. “Get outta here, Miz. You gotta hide or we’re all toast.”

  Nothing. She looked at him mildly and lowered her head to crop more grass.

  “Miz. Seriously, James says go. I’m not trying to trick you.”

  She did that lip-waving thing. What the fuck did that mean if she didn’t have a bridle on?

  “Miz, go!”

  She took a few steps closer and snorted on him.

  “Ugh, Miz! You blew snot on me!” James started laughing in his ear. “Fuck you,” Matt grumbled. “You deal with her; she won’t listen to me.”

  James stopped laughing suddenly. “Oh. Maybe because I told her not to leave you, no matter what you did.”

  “You think I need a fucking horse to babysit me?”

  “No, I just meant you know, if you were mean to her or….”

  “Or what?” Matt swore he could hear James’s uncomfortable shrug.

  “Tried to make her leave.”

  Fucker. “Well, then, I guess you’ll just have to deal with her.”

  James started grumbling. As far as Matt was concerned, he was on his own. Judging by the quantity and quality of grumbling, he had to pretend to get lost—for the sake of his tail—so he could find a line of communication with Miz without a visual.

  “Jesus, James. What kind of hunter gets lost that easily?”

  James didn’t answer. Finally he made contact with Miz and she started plodding off. She looked kind of unhappy. Suddenly Matt realized they were more or less sending her off without knowing when or if they’d see her again.

  Shit. That was kinda… mean. “Bye, Miz,” he called quietly. “We’ll see you again, soon.” She stopped and looked back
at him for a second. He could swear she almost looked like she liked him. Then she started moving off again, with a little more walk and a little less plod.

  “That was nice, Matty,” James said in his ear, startling him again.

  Damn open mic.

  When James arrived at their rendezvous spot—approaching from downstream where there was less cover for his tail—Matt had covered himself head to toe in a sleeping bag.

  Matt heard James hit the ground next to his head kinda hard. What the heck? James lifted the edge of the bag up, peering in anxiously at Matt. Had he been worried?

  For a minute, Matt thought James was going to rip the bag off and expose his face. Matt hadn’t shaved in days, and his last sonic had been over two months ago. He wasn’t sure he could pass for James’s wife like this.

  Guess he could have a hairy wife.

  James seemed to relax and get a grip on himself almost instantly. Then he smiled that dazzling smile at Matt. “Hello, Matilda?” His voice was loud.

  “What?” Th’fuck?

  “That’s your name.” He was murmuring now. The tail must be a few yards away, still. James’s smile had calmed down to one of his lip quirks. He seemed downright happy.

  Matt sighed. “Well, fuck me running.”

  “Any way you want it, baby.” James winked. He was doing that thing again. Being all playful now that whatever was stressing him out had worked itself out.

  Maybe he had been worried about Matt.

  Matt felt a slow smile light his face. “James! I didn’t know you were into girls,” he answered back in a quiet falsetto. Then he murmured, “How do you like my Matilda voice? Who the hell picked that name, anyway? I could have picked something better than that.”

  “It’s fine, hon. You just rest up here while I pack up the camp. Your PMS is gonna ease up in a day or two.” PMS. Nice.

  James’s tail was getting really close to them. Matt heard the guy. James’s shadow had climbed up the bank and was creeping along the edge on his belly, sending little showers of dirt and rock down the bank. Matt rolled his eyes.