by Mia Watts
Nathan’s fingers were still touching the key when he looked into the mirror at the man behind him. “How did you get the key?”
“I palmed it off diNossi.”
“DiNossi’s a seasoned agent. He doesn’t make rookie mistakes like that.”
“Ask him.”
Something about the way he said it left Nathan suspicious. “If I asked him, what would he tell me?”
A familiar secret smile warmed Trick’s features. “Guess you’d have to ask to find out.”
“I’m asking you.”
The smile faded. Trick seemed to be wrestling with something. “C’m’ere.”
Nathan left the key and returned to the bedside. He sat down at Trick’s hip facing him. Trick’s gaze held on Nathan’s lips.
“Kiss me.”
Because it wasn’t a demand, but had a sad quality to it, Nathan did. Their lips touched, and he found himself sighing as the tension between them seemed to fade. It was opposite of everything that should’ve happened, and nowhere near appropriate for what had brought them together in the first place.
The barest touch of Trick’s tongue against his was all it took for Nathan to deepen the kiss until they were both getting handsy.
Nathan pulled away. “You were going to tell me?”
“No. I just wanted to kiss you again.”
He looked into Trick’s eyes for a moment before smiling. “Get some sleep. We’re up early tomorrow.”
“You too. I believe you have second watch in about two hours.”
Trick dragged Nathan to the bed, and he wrapped him in the arm with the tattooed talon circling Nathan’s upper chest.
“I should sleep over there. Away from you,” Nathan complained.
“No. I have two hours left with you. I’m claiming them.”
Trick snuggled in behind him giving Nathan a bittersweet picture of how things could have been between them if Nathan had a different job and Trick was a different person. Trick held him tightly, spooning around him with one arm awkwardly bound to the headboard. He dropped a kiss on Nathan’s earlobe and settled in.
* * * *
Nathan awoke in the dark. His chest pressed Trick’s, and Trick was kissing his face with fluttering touches. Nathan turned his face upward, reached for the bristly head he knew was within reach, and dragged it down the brief distance to bring their lips together.
“I was going to leave you alone,” Trick explained with a harsh whisper against Nathan’s lips. “I wasn’t going to do anything but hold you until you had watch.”
Nathan flattened his hand on Trick’s chest, sliding it down until he could open first Trick’s pants and then his own. He knew what Trick wanted. Nathan wanted it too and their bodies were ready for the task.
Nathan touched him, and the bigger man actually shuddered.
“I’ve wanted your hands on me,” Trick confessed.
“I’ve wanted to touch you.”
Nathan wiggled closer, wrapping their cocks together in both his hands. He moaned and Trick, ever the opportunist, invaded Nathan’s mouth with an eager thrust of his tongue. Lust raced through Nathan’s veins until he shook with it.
He pushed Trick back and climbed on top of him. As humping went, it was sloppy, but the feel of Trick’s heavy cock rolling against his was more than payment for awkwardness. Nathan rocked. Trick rhythmically bucked with him. Trick reached between them to hold their cocks. Nathan got better traction and stole hungry kisses.
“So fucking sexy,” Trick muttered. “Damn hellcat in bed.”
“I’m going to have you.”
“You already do.”
Those words took Nathan over the edge. As a lover, he liked sex and enjoying his partner’s body. What was happening with Trick went beyond his experience, though. He couldn’t get enough of him in a way that left him feeling shaken, like a druggie on withdrawal. He could only hope to get Trick out of his system. He feared he wouldn’t.
“One day, I want to see you ride me,” Trick breathed. “Ride me and shoot on my face.”
Damn Trick was good at sex talk. Not for the first time had his words stroked Nathan’s cock like a verbal hand job.
“Might even let you tie me up properly. Last time,” he said between heavy breaths. “You opened your mouth before I came. I imagined your lips stretched around my cock. Gagging, taking it anyway.”
Nathan pinned him with a look and boldly opened his mouth. Trick swore and let go of their dicks to stick his fingers in Nathan’s mouth. Nathan sucked them hard, holding his lover’s gaze and taking over the iron grip on their shafts.
“Fuck me,” Trick muttered like a curse.
He pushed his fingers all the way in. Nathan curled his tongue on them and sucked, holding his gag reflex in check though his eyes watered a little.
Trick erupted first, his cum slicking the way for Nathan’s almost immediately following. He came to a stop. The fingers eased from his lips only to be replaced by tongue in a devastating claim of his mouth by the burly mobster.
Nathan’s watch beeped in rapid succession. “That’s my shift in five minutes. I need to clean up.”
He nodded.
Cleaning wet cum off his suit wasn’t easy. He look like he’d wet himself, after the rushed scrubbing it took to remove most of it. He’d have to check again when it dried to see if there were traces. Cleaning Trick was easier, and he took time to enjoy it where he could.
DiNossi’s knock sounded on the door. Nathan hurriedly put away Trick’s equipment and opened the door.
“I’m beat.”
Trick snorted.
“I said beat, not beat off,” diNossi corrected pointedly.
Nathan ducked his head, pretending to be engrossed in arming himself. His heart raced at what he thought diNossi knew. He needed this watch. He needed to get away. His judgment was clouded and that was a bad thing.
Nathan left before further banter could be had at his expense. Leaning on the hood of the car, he took a deep cleansing breath of fresh air. “I’m so fucked up, right now.”
Somehow saying the words out loud gave him clarity. It was a place to start from, to correct his mistakes if there was still a chance of correcting them.
Could everything he’d worked for be worth throwing away for what was essentially a one night stand?
Chapter Eight
DiNossi disarmed. He took a long drink of tap water and got into the untouched second bed. Sighing, he turned his head toward Trick. “Is the sex that good?”
Trick didn’t answer, only held his look steadily.
“Did you tell him?” diNossi asked.
He shook his head.
“But you did have sex, is what you’re not saying,” diNossi stated rather than asked.
Trick didn’t feel right answering.
DiNossi sighed again. He folded his hands behind his head and stared upward. “He’s toast, you know.”
“He’s fine.”
“His ego is going to be bruised, and you’ll be a reminder of how far he fell. How quickly he lost his badge.”
Trick’s gaze sharpened on him. “You said you didn’t care. Are you telling me that my actions will cause him to lose his badge?”
“What do you think, Detective? Would your captain keep you around after a professional breach in protocol such as yours?”
“I’m undercover. I do what needs to be done to get the job done.”
“He’s not. He doesn’t have that leniency.” DiNossi reached for the lamp, clicking it off. Only the bathroom light offered any illumination.
“You left me with the key to the cuffs. If you knew it would wreck his career, why would you do that?”
“You’re not in the clear with this, Detective. Just because a key is there, doesn’t mean you have to use it. It also doesn’t provide consent.” He rolled to his side, facing Trick across the distance. “Have you been undercover so long that you forgot that? Did you forget that desk jockeys of all branches live and die by the protocol
? We aren’t exempt.”
Trick felt sick.
DiNossi yawned. “Doesn’t matter. Even if you forgot, the kid didn’t. It’s his job he just flushed down the toilet.”
The pit of Trick’s stomach felt a little queasy. Had he cost Nathan his career? He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to make this trip enjoyable for himself and for Nathan. That had been the plan, but the backfire seemed harsh.
“You’re reporting him,” Trick deduced. “Even though you weren’t going to.”
“I don’t have to. This kind of fuck up you don’t come back from. Not if you’re a good agent. That kid is a decent kid. He’d have made an honest agent. Do you think he’ll get over the lapse in judgment?”
God, who was he kidding? It wasn’t harsh. It was exactly what diNossi should be saying to him. DiNossi was right. Messing around in the car, even on a fake mission, could cost the young Fed everything he’d worked for. What was worse, Trick couldn’t warn him. There wouldn’t be an opportunity to tell him before they got to Quantico without diNossi overhearing. He’d already blown the Nathan’s career. He couldn’t ruin his mission too.
* * * *
Six a.m. came early. Trick’s eyes were gritty with lack of sleep. He’d drifted off well-into diNossi’s snore pattern and wondered how Nathan had held up. His answer came with the prescribed knock on the door, followed by the man stepping through.
“Time to go,” he said looking as bleary eyed as Trick felt.
DiNossi stretched, took a pee and followed them out the door.
Nathan handed the keys to his partner. “You’re driving.”
“Long night?” diNossi asked.
“Followed by a long day,” Nathan agreed.
Trick was cuffed in the front and Nathan promptly fell asleep in the backseat when they pulled onto the road. Trick listened to the deep, even breaths. If he waited a few hours until the kid woke up again, or drifted toward wakefulness, maybe he could reopen the conversation with diNossi in a way that would reveal the truth to Nathan.
Except diNossi wasn’t stupid. He’d know, and he’d redirect however necessary. Hell, Trick wouldn’t put it past him to pull out a roll of duct tape to make sure his suspect didn’t speak out of turn.
That only left room for the surprise. Trick had spent enough time with Nathan to recognize that he wouldn’t appreciate the moment the true nature of the mission was revealed. Or how badly he’d done in the course of his assignment.
Trick winced in anticipation of that. Nathan would hate him. He should have been just as unhappy about blowing his own cover—the way he’d felt last week when he realized the Feds meant to expose him to the mob and destroy three years of hard work. He should have been, but he wasn’t. Because regardless of whether or not the kid had pulled off his part perfectly, Trick’s cover was busted. For that, if for no other reason, Trick should have kept his distance—to make sure that at least one of them succeeded.
That’s not how it had worked out, though. Here Trick had been thinking he was busted so he might as well have fun. He’d taken the kid down with him. All the while he’d thought he’d been falling for the man despite himself. He’d led himself to believe that Nathan could be the guy to change him, make him believe in a relationship.
God, what a fucking moron Trick had turned out to be. When push came to shove, he’d covered his own ass. He’d tanked another person’s career for the sake of his insatiable dick. If he’d actually cared about the kid, he’d have thought about the ramifications of screwing around with Agent Rohn’s career.
So why the hell did he feel like shit? Why did he wish he could take back the last twenty-four hours and get a do-over? Why did the idea of erasing everything they’d shared, raise bile in his throat?
Because it did matter. It had mattered. Nathan mattered. After today Nathan would cheerfully level his Glock on Trick and pull the trigger for fucking up his life. And Trick wouldn’t blame him.
Chapter Nine
Nathan stretched and sat up. The ride had been silent except for the occasional use of the radio until static got too annoying and either diNossi or Trick turned it off again. The wind whipped through the car, buffeting his ears with its own kind of listless static. Conversation didn’t do well in that environment, and Nathan was relieved. He had plenty to occupy his mind as it was. Aimless chatter wouldn’t have helped.
He stared out the window wondering at the choices he’d made recently and why he’d made them. He’d spent two years kicking his own ass to make it in the FBI. He’d finally reached a point where he was being considered as someone to lead an investigation. Why had he allowed himself to get distracted from that?
The terrain offered him no answers. The ground rolled in low hills covered with lush greenery. The road curved around them and through them as any self-respecting off-highway drive would.
“Make the call,” diNossi said, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.
Nathan dialed the number and gave the waiting team a five minute estimated time of arrival.
The assorted buildings of Quanitco leaped into view and diNossi was forced onto a major freeway. They passed the training facility and the laboratory. Within minutes diNossi pulled up in front of the drop point. Three men in FBI gear and flack-jackets met them at the car.
Trick kept his eyes on him as he was pulled out of the car. He sent Nathan an apologetic smile. They took him away, and diNossi slapped Nathan on the back.
“Well, we got him here in one piece. That’s something.”
“What happens now?” Nathan asked numbly.
“They want you there for the interview of the suspect.”
A roll of anxiety squeezed his gut. “Why?”
DiNossi gave him a little push. “So you can see how these guys do it. You know what we do, and we’re pretty by-the-book, but you haven’t seen a witness questioned until you see Quantico do it. They’re real hard-asses. If there’s something they want to know, Trick has no hope of keeping it secret.”
Nathan swallowed hard. All the more reason he should run the opposite direction. But this was his job. This is why he was here. This, and making sure that if the horrible truth about what had happened between them came to light, Nathan knew exactly how much the FBI knew.
He trudged into the building and flashed his badge at the first checkpoint. He had to have it scanned on the third floor before they’d let him enter the observation room. Moments later they brought in Trick.
“Agent Latham, questioning the witness for case number foxtrot, Lima, five two one one delta. Please state your name for the record,” Latham flipped through a thick file, addressing the papers more than the man they’d brought in.
Trick’s eyes went straight to the one-way mirror, as though he knew Nathan was there. “Detective Stanley Patrick Hampton.”
Like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, Nathan froze. His ears rang and he was only vaguely aware of the man giving his badge and precinct affiliation. A cop? He’d brought in and fucked a cop? A cop named Stanley Hampton, whose only possible claim to the truth was the nickname Trick. And Nathan had damn well been tricked.
Rage filled him. He gripped the edge of the wall that framed the one-way glass.
“Please state the nature of your undercover status,” Agent Latham continued.
“To infiltrate the Linder family, document criminal activities and provide accurate information for future arrests.”
“Please state the nature of your willing custody to the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Latham droned.
Willing custody? Who was Latham kidding? Nathan and Donny had brought him in at gun point with firearms blazing as they hit the helipad. Willing his ass!
“I was redirected off the case for the benefit of the FBI when information regarding interstate crime became made known.” Trick shot another look at the glass. “And when the FBI presented a parallel co-mission to serve as an undercover suspect for the further training of Agent Nathan Rohn.”
Nathan pushed angrily away from the wall and stormed toward the door. He hadn’t heard diNossi step into the room, but the man blocked him now.
“You’re under orders to stay and listen, Agent Rohn.”
Nathan swore, spun around and stomped back to the glass. He folded his arms stiffly. Glaring through the glass he hoped Stanley could feel the hate that burned in Nathan’s gut. Except it wasn’t hate. Because even now, when he feared of losing everything, he felt more betrayed and hurt than furious.
He listened to the rest of the interview, waiting for Trick to tell the rest of the sordid story. His training exercise was actually a debriefing of Trick’s time with the Jerome Linder’s crew. He could see the frustration Trick was having when he talked about the destruction to his cover and how there was no going back.
Trick never tipped his hand that Nathan had behaved in any other way but professionally.
DiNossi clasped Nathan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “That’s going to be on my report too. And nothing else, in case you were wondering.” DiNossi left the room.
The questioning continued and Nathan dropped his forehead against the glass. Betrayal broke away to the answer he’d been searching for on the drive to Quantico.
This had always been his father’s dream. He’d always wanted one of his sons to carry on the family tradition. Every generation of the Rohn family was supposed to have a federal agent. Apparently, Nathan wasn’t the one.
As badly as he’d wanted to please his father, as hard as he’d worked to get here, there was only one real reason why he’d risk everything to be with Trick. He didn’t want the life bad enough. Because no matter how tempting Trick had been—and he’d been very tempting—Nathan’s integrity meant something to him.
