by A. R. Moler
Mason gazed at him for a long moment. He had screwed up, big time. He never should have let his Talent get that far out of control. It was dangerous, way dangerous. “I would have probably passed out.”
“Just how dangerous is that?”
“Depends.”
“Damn it! That’s not an answer!” Cam snapped.
“I don’t have an answer. It’s not a yes or no question.”
“Could it kill you?”
“Maybe. If I was alone and unconscious and my blood sugar sank maybe down below twenty or something. I don’t know. There’s so many variables.”
“I thought Peter was teaching you better control.”
“He is.” Mason replied, knowing the man referenced, his mentor, was going to be mighty unhappy when he found out.
“Doesn’t look like it from my point of view.”
“Trauma stuff is... unpredictable,” said Mason. He thought he could see where Cam was heading with this and he looked at the ceiling in guilt.
“Would you give your life for someone else?”
“For you, yes,” said Mason. He watched Cam swallow hard.
“For just anyone?”
“No, not intentionally.
“Fuck, Mason,” said Cam. He got out of the chair and came to kneel in front of Mason. “How many different ways are you going to make me worry about losing you?”
“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, Peter’s going to kick my ass for losing control,” replied Mason. He ran his fingers through Cam’s short hair, detecting pain. Headache from the probable concussion still warring with the sharp ache in Cam’s ear. “I’ve eaten. Now will you let me 'fix you' as you so ineloquently put it earlier?”
“Yeah I guess,” said Cam with a sigh.
Mason dropped the towel he had been wearing to the floor and slid between the sheets of the bed, while his partner shucked his pants and crawled in beside him. Mason's fingers carefully explored the skin surrounding Cam’s right ear, letting his healing senses get a more thorough look at the damage than his earlier hasty exam.
“You’re not going to be flying for at least a week,” Mason said.
“It really did blow my eardrum?”
“Yes. Gave you a touch of a concussion, too.”
“Just effing great.”
“It can take up to a couple months for eardrums to heal.”
“Thought you just said a week.”
“I’ll hurry things along.”
“You don’t have to do it tonight.”
“I’m not doing it tonight. I don’t know if I have enough energy left to do more than get things started anyway.” Mason slipped his arms around his lover and pulled Cam against his body, hooking a leg behind Cam’s so they were skin to skin from shoulder to thigh. He let his energy flow gently across every connection, soothing away the pain. Sleep was threatening to sweep him under, but he knew his body wouldn’t let go even in unconsciousness.
“It could’ve been you who lost a hand,” murmured Mason. His own fingers stroked carefully along the back of Cam’s head.
~
Who was knocking on the damn door? Cam squinted at the clock on the hotel room nightstand. 9:37 pm. Okay, it wasn’t anywhere near as late as he thought he was. It had been a really shitty afternoon and evening. Mason stirred slightly as Cam got out of bed. Oh, pants would be a good idea, he thought as the cool air hit his skin.
Cam dragged his slacks on and opened the door. Madison Carthage stood in the hallway with Mason’s med-kit backpack in her hand.
“Dr. Flynn left this at the scene. Things were pretty chaotic there. I thought I should return it,” she said. “Is he here?”
“He’s asleep,” said Cam.
“Oh,” she said and looked disappointed. “Could you tell him that Agent Buchner made it through surgery? He’s in ICU and they’re guardedly opti--” A noise behind him made Cam turn and look. Mason was standing several feet behind him, one hand braced on the wall, looking very not awake and buck naked.
“Are you okay?” mumbled Mason.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” said Cam. He glanced back at Madison. If ever there was an expression of absolute lust on a woman’s face... She actually licked her lips. “Like I said, he was asleep,” said Cam. He pulled the bag out of Madison’s grip. God, if he hadn’t been standing in the doorway, he wondered if she would have gotten in bed with Mason.
~
“She likes you even better without the clothes,” Cam teased as Mason stood in front of the hotel bathroom sink brushing his teeth. Mason glanced at his own reflection. He looked like he’d been up for two straight days instead of actually having gotten a full night’s sleep.
“Who?”
“Ms. Carthage.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mason asked, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste. He glanced at his partner. The bruises on Cam’s shoulder and ribs were livid stains under his skin.
“Last night when she dropped off the med-kit. You don’t even remember, do you?’ Cam wore a silly teasing grin.
“Remember what? You said she dropped off the kit and told you Buchner had made it through surgery.” Mason picked up a glass and rinsed out his mouth.
“Her knock on the door must have woken you up about halfway. You got out of bed and came looking for me... sans skivvies. I thought she was going to leave a drool trail.”
“Oh, God...” Mason felt his face flush hot in embarrassment. “And she was already looking for any excuse to jump me.”
“I’ll protect you,” Cam said with a grin. He was obviously expecting Mason to laugh.
Mason met his gaze in the mirror.
“No, you won’t...” said Mason softly, a note of sorrow in his tone. Cam would never take that kind of risk.
“Mas’ I...” Cam began, his voice choking.
“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to. It would just be easier to say 'see this guy? He’s my partner. That means I’m taken, so back off.'” He turned to look at Cam’s near frozen expression. Damn. He’d said too much. Being this exhausted made him fail to think twice about what came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Cam’s hand came up and curled around Mason’s neck as his other arm wrapped around Mason's waist.
“I never seem to do the right thing,” Cam whispered, drawing Mason into his arms.
Mason kissed him. A long lingering kiss to soothe away the hurt. He wished he could ease the emotional aches the way he dealt with the physical ones. “You’re hurt and I’m tired and neither of us really wants to go face the FBI this morning,” said Mason.
“Isn’t that supposed to read -- sick and tired?” asked Cam, smiling just a little.
~
“Tim Buchner is in the ICU currently. He’s expected to pull through. No one else was seriously injured,” said Madison Carthage.
Cam and Mason sat a long conference table along with a dozen other people while she conducted a briefing.
“The storage locker is registered to one Thomas Pethrick. He served time eight years ago for armed robbery. He roughly fits the description of one of the perps from the bank robbery. Forensic prelims say the box that contained the money was rigged with a fairly simple clothespin and battery trigger connected to a copper pipe bomb. Pethrick has a reputation for paranoia, but he is also very shrewd. Our profilers have suggested that his intention was to leave the money untouched for some amount of time while the investigation stalled, then come back for it. Since we know two other people were involved, the assumption is being made that he expected one or both to consider double crossing him, hence the booby trap. A BOLO has been put out for Pethrick and some of our people are looking for known associates. I want these people found.” The woman leaned on the table with both hands as she spoke the last few words. Cam watched her eyes rove across the faces around the table. Iron-clad bitch seemed like a good description to add to predatory and temperamental.
; One of the agents at the table spoke up. “There’s a rumor going around that some psychic tipped us off as to where Pethrick stashed the money,” the man said.
“We received assistance from another federal agency and I’m not at liberty to divulge details. That’s all you need to know,” Carthage replied.
“Okay, whatever you say. I was just going to say if it was true, why didn’t this chick know about the bomb?”
Cam practically had to bite his tongue to keep from getting in the guy’s face and telling him it didn’t work that way. Dude! The psychic is a he! And God! He wished it did work that way! If he had known about the bomb, that would have been the first information out of his mouth. This wasn’t the first time his identity as a Division P member had been hidden away either. He exchanged a glance with Mason, who merely gave him a slight shrug.
Carthage continued, handing out assignments to various agents. At the end of the meeting, she crooked a finger at Cam and indicated that he and Mason should follow her. They all walked down a corridor to a much smaller room. Cam guessed it to be a lounge of some sort judging from the pair of sofas that bordered a coffee table and the tiny kitchenette in the corner. She shut the door behind them and indicated that they should sit.
“I received explicit instructions from the Division P liaison that in exchange for your assistance I was to admit as little as possible to the rest of my branch,” she said.
“That’s often one of the conditions placed by Director Bottman,” replied Cam.
“Do they always send a doctor on an assignment?” she asked with a smile at Mason.
“It varies,” said Cam.
“I’m sure Agent Buchner is amazingly thankful that you were there to save his life, Dr. Flynn.”
“So am I. He could have bled out in a matter of minutes,” replied Mason.
“He’s still in ICU, but I received information that he’s slowly improving. He’ll be given retirement with full disability pay. Your flight leaves in four hours. I’ll have someone deliver you to the airport shortly.”
“We can’t do that. Flying is not an option.”
“Excuse me?”
“Cam has a perforated eardrum from the explosion yesterday. Flying would stress the damage further. We need a rental car or a pair of train tickets.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you suffered any damage other than maybe some bruises,” Madison replied.
“Nothing serious, just painful and inconvenient,” said Cam.
“I’ll have someone start making arrangements for a car. It could take several hours, since non-case related travel is a lower priority.”
“That’s fine. If we need to stay in the city another night to smooth things out that would be fine,” said Mason.
“I’ll get one of my people to start on the car requisition, but yes, an extra night may be the easiest way to get this changed, if there’s no immediate rush to get back to Virginia. I’m sure I can find you a pair of hotel rooms somewhere.” Madison stood up and walked toward the door. “Maybe we could even find time to appreciate last night’s view,” she said as she walked out.
Cam burst into a fit of giggles after she was gone. “You jumped into that one with both feet. Now she thinks that since our part of the case is done, you’re just fine with a hop into the sack with her.”
“God. All I was thinking about was the fact that you still have a mild concussion and I’m still fairly ragged out. In all probability neither of us should be driving the six hours to get home today. Just shoot me now,” suggested Mason.
“Nah, no shooting. I’m kind of fond of you.” Cam blew out a long breath and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call HQ and let them know we’re not going to be on the flight this afternoon.”
Once the lengthy call to Division P was completed, Cam slouched back against the sofa and closed his eyes. The pain in his ear was killing him. He laid his hand over his ear hoping the slight pressure and warmth would decrease the sharp ache.
“You could stop being a martyr and ask me to help you with that,” said Mason, sitting down beside him.
Cam nodded. They were in the federal building. Despite the fact they were in a room by themselves, his brain was stuck in 'don’t touch each other' mode. He relaxed a little and rested his head against Mason’s shoulder.
“It hurts,” he said.
“Uh-huh. And the fact you banged your head pretty damn hard is probably not helping, said Mason.
The doctor turned partially sideways and stretched his leg along the back of the sofa, so that Cam was sitting between his legs and resting his head more fully on Mason’s shoulder. Cam relaxed a little further, the warmth of his lover’s body alone eased the ache a little. The long talented fingers of his partner skimmed along his jaw and spread around his ear, slightly cupping the side of his face. A welcome tingle of energy flowed into his skin and the pain faded into nothingness.
“I really didn’t get any healing done last night. Just some stop gap stuff. Mostly making sure you weren’t in any danger from the head trauma.”
Cam opened his shields so he could feel Mason’s steady presence more fully. “You give a whole new meaning to magic fingers,” whispered Cam.
Mason gave a faint snort of amusement. His free arm was curved around Cam’s back, hand draped on Cam's hip. Cam turned his face a little more toward Mason. This put his mouth mere inches from the hollow at the base of Mason’s throat and the wisp of dark chest hair barely visible in the V of his shirt collar. Cam closed his eyes and pressed his lips against that warm depression. He felt a soft intake of breath from Mason. Cam tipped his head back a little and Mason’s mouth trailed a line of gentle kisses from his forehead down his nose to his lips.
There was a faint clicking noise from the opposite side of the room, and with shields blown wide open, Cam knew it was Madison Carthage coming through the door. His mind flashed back to a slice of the conversation in the hotel bathroom that morning, and he made a choice. His hand flew up and clenched in the hair at the back of Mason’s skull and Cam pulled his lover into a deep open-mouth kiss. Where his wrist was pressed to the side of Mason's neck, Cam felt his lover’s pulse spike in a weird combination of fear and lust. From the doorway, there was a tiny sound bordering on a squeak and the door closed again. Cam relaxed his grip and Mason’s face pulled back from his.
“Was that...?” Mason said, breathlessly.
“Maybe she’ll think twice about your interest level now,” replied Cam.
The look Mason gave him was apprehensive, and his lover heaved a sigh. “This might solve my problem, but will it cause problems for you?”
“I doubt it. Do you really think she’s the type of go blabbing that the guy she wanted to jump into bed with turned out to be gay? And she saw him in a liplock with his partner?
“Maybe not. You gonna hold still now and let me work on your ear?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
~
“The car assigned to you is in space forty-six in the garage,” said a male agent, handing a set of keys to Cam. “I believe it’s supposed to be returned to the Norfolk FBI office.”
“Okay, thanks,” replied Cam. He picked up his garment bag and briefcase and headed down the hallway. Mason trailed behind him, carrying his own gear. In the parking garage, they both slung their luggage into the trunk.
