by Victoria Sue
It didn’t mean he had to be cruel, though, and he was ashamed of the barbs that seemed to slip out so easily these days. Reed’s death had hit him hard, but it wasn’t an excuse.
“But where are you gonna sleep?” Vance leaned heavily on the doorframe, looking deathly pale, and Sam took pity on him.
“I’m good on the couch.” He tried to steer Vance to the bed.
“No,” Vance protested halfheartedly.
“Uh-huh,” Sam soothed and firmly pulled at Vance’s arm until he moved. It was like trying to shift a brick wall. “I got the couch.”
“I can sleep on the couch,” Vance mumbled but allowed himself to be pushed to the bed.
“You’re my partner.” Sam swallowed heavily and tried not to feel like a shit as Vance’s eyes widened in surprise. “And you saved my life.”
A contented smile settled over Vance’s face, and Sam felt even worse because he hadn’t directly acknowledged it before. Fuck, he hadn’t even said thank you properly. He’d been too caught up in the other deaths to acknowledge what Vance had done. Every other person was running out of the building and Vance did the exact opposite. No question Sam would have died.
“Let me look after you a little, huh?” Sam rushed to bury his embarrassment. “Get a good night’s sleep. Bathroom’s there.” He pointed to the door and glanced down at the bag at Vance’s feet, which Talon had gotten from the motel they had been in last night. “Spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you need it, but I think Talon got all your things. I’ll go grab you a bottle of water.” He spun and took a step, but a gentle hand on his stopped him.
“And you didn’t have to let me sleep here either,” Vance pointed out, then let go before he sank down onto the bed, ignoring the alarming creaks.
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked. For a big guy, he’d eaten very little in the last day and a half since he had come around in the hospital.
Vance shook his head and winced. Sam went to the fridge and got out two bottles of water. When he went back in, Vance was just shutting the bathroom door. Quickly Sam pulled out the pills and got the painkillers. In a few minutes, Vance came out dressed in shorts that were very snug on him. Sam dragged his eyes up from them before Vance noticed and misinterpreted his concern for something else.
Which it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
Vance saw the pills he was holding and shook his head. “No point.”
“What?” Sam started. The stubborn man was obviously in pain.
“They don’t work,” Vance said matter-of-factly. “Never have. I’ll get some sleep and feel a ton better in the morning.” He sat down on the bed, and the shorts clung even tighter.
“You should just go naked,” Sam said before he even thought about it.
Vance flushed, but it didn’t help the pallor of his skin.
“I mean in case they’re uncomfortable,” Sam added, trying to dig himself out. Vance nodded and got under the comforter.
“Yeah, I guess the store was all out of tarpaulins,” Vance muttered and closed his eyes, turning firmly away from Sam, his large back saying exactly what he thought. Sam cursed silently, but Vance was right about one thing—he needed sleep.
“Wake me up if you need anything,” Sam urged.
“Sure,” Vance said woodenly. As words went, it wasn’t much better than a slap.
SATURDAY MORNING Sam was awake early. If he were honest, he’d barely slept. He already had the coffee on and was digging about in his cupboards, cursing that three months away meant he had only the basic groceries the team left him with last night. He really needed something to put with eggs. He wanted to feed Vance properly this morning.
“Morning.”
Sam jumped at the quiet words and turned quickly, pleased to see Vance was a better color. He was back in his sweats. “Morning. I was just trying to decide what I have for breakfast.”
“Coffee?” Vance asked hopefully and glanced at the pot.
“How does your back feel?” Sam parried, opening one of the top cupboards in the tiny kitchen, which seemed to have shrunk even further in the past few seconds, and getting a mug down.
Vance shrugged and took the mug with a “Thank-you,” then squeezed past him by nearly flattening himself against the wall to get to the coffee. “It’s fine,” he said noncommittally.
“Well, I want to check this morning.” He would insist on calling Dr. Natalie if it didn’t look okay.
“No need.” Vance filled his cup and took an appreciative sip.
“Of course there’s a need,” Sam argued.
“No, I meant because Gael is the team medic and will be stop by soon.” He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “To be honest, I’m surprised they’re not here now.”
“You called them?” Sam said in astonishment. “Wasn’t it a bit early to wake—”
“Nope,” Vance interrupted. “I know you haven’t been on the team that long, but we’re all pretty tight. I didn’t need to call them. I just know they’ll be here soon.”
“But—” Sam bit the word off. What the hell was he objecting to? Vance having friends? And as if Vance had conjured them up at that second, the downstairs buzzer sounded.
Sam pressed the intercom.
“Hi, breakfast is here,” Finn called cheerfully, sounding far too upbeat for this early, especially after the drive yesterday.
Sam didn’t look at Vance but just buzzed the door open. Two minutes later Sam was wishing his apartment wasn’t so small. Between Vance, Talon, and Gael, the place had just shrunk. At least Finn was a more normal size and Sawyer wasn’t huge. He was thankful none of the others had come.
“Eli went to collect Adam and will see us at the shop,” Sawyer said to Vance. Sam glanced at Sawyer. The words had been said lightly, but there was something in Sawyer’s tone that gave him pause. Being dragged back to Baton Rouge so quickly hadn’t given Sam much time to observe the team dynamics, and the whole who was with who thing was confusing. He’d known plenty of husband and wife teams on the force, but they would never work in the same unit and report to the same boss. Still, it had taken him only around three hours to find out Talon and Finn were together.
“And Jake says he will drop by later,” Gael added. “He’s dropping Derrick off at the Ramsays’ because we have to go in on a weekend.” Gael was grumbling, but his eyes were twinkling.
“We’re going in?”
Talon shook his head. “No, we’re going in. You two are taking the weekend off.”
Sam bristled slightly at the order. He didn’t need—
“I have to go through the database, and I got a text from Doc Natalie saying she’s coming in to see me,” Vance said.
Talon frowned. “Then as soon as you finish, you come home.”
Finn hefted a bag onto the countertop. “We knew you didn’t have time to get much in, and Panera does these gorgeous little breakfast quiches I know Vance loves.”
Sam just nodded and stepped out of Finn’s way as Gael gestured to his bedroom. “Come on, Vance. I want to check you are healing okay.”
Sam glanced at Vance just as he looked away from him, then watched them both disappear into his bedroom.
“I didn’t want Vance in today,” Talon said, still grumbling. He came to stand in front of Sam so Sam had to tilt his head to look up at him. Sam nodded and walked into the living room and over to the window before he turned around. “But if the doc wants to see him…,” Talon added, not seeming like he had noticed Sam walking farther away. “And if I know Vance, that means he will insist he’s okay.”
“Maybe see what Gael says,” Sawyer offered while filling a mug.
Sure, Sam thought, still put out and still wondering why.
The bedroom door opened after a few minutes, and Gael and Vance both came out. Gael looked straight at Talon. “Boss, this is amazing. I’ve even taken the padding off.”
Sam frowned. But that was protection for Vance’s newly healed skin. He thought Gael was the team medic and supposed
to know what he was doing.
“Apart from some redness, there’s no sign of the injuries at all. Not even scarring.”
“Really?” Finn said, coming out of the kitchen. “What other injuries have you had since you transformed, Vance?”
Vance shrugged and buttoned his shirt. “Nothing, really.”
Finn looked at Talon. “Then this is obviously an ability that has never been discovered.” He grinned. “Doc Natalie’s gonna love you.” He passed Vance a plate with four quiches. Sam wasn’t surprised. He’d seen Vance eat plenty of times. Now that everyone was out of the tiny kitchen, he headed back in there, grabbed Vance’s coffee, and topped it up before setting it on the small table next to the armchair in the corner. Vance was watching him when he looked up.
“Sit down,” he instructed, and Vance walked obediently over to the chair. There was a small couch Finn and Sawyer dropped into. Everyone else stood around or sat on the floor.
Sawyer’s phone beeped with a notification, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Eli says Gregory is already there and they’ve dragged in some suit that wants to talk to us.”
Sam glanced at Vance’s plate. He’d eaten one of the quiches in three bites but seemed to be ignoring the others. Sam gazed at his face. Vance didn’t look pale or in pain, but he definitely didn’t seem to be eating much.
“Hey,” Gael said quietly and nudged Vance. “You want something else, buddy?”
Vance glanced fleetingly at Sam but didn’t meet his eyes, as if it had been Sam who had asked the question, then answered Gael. “Nah, I’m good.” And he picked up his coffee.
Sam saw the quick frown Gael shot at Talon. Talon was watching Vance intently. He’d obviously noticed as well.
They all finished eating, and Sam quickly got rid of the packages in the recycling and packed a sack with the uneaten food. Maybe Vance would like them—
He stopped the thought. Vance was a grown-up, and Sam certainly had other things to think about rather than if his mountain of a partner was getting enough to eat.
Not his responsibility.
Talon stood up from where he’d sat on the floor with his back to the couch in front of Finn. “Vance, I’m really not happy with you in today. How about we give it at least until tomorrow?”
Vance looked up from where he was nursing his almost empty coffee cup. “I’m fine, Talon. Ask Gael; there’s not a mark on me.”
Sam opened his mouth, but Finn beat him to it. “Just because your skin has healed doesn’t mean you’ve recovered.” He took a breath. “You were badly hurt. You can’t blame us for being a little protective.”
Vance smiled at Finn, but this time it was warm and easy, not a quick attempt at convincing someone he was okay when he really wasn’t. The two looks were startlingly different. Sam had been treated to the warm, easygoing smile from Vance a million times in the last few months, and he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this morning until it had been gifted to someone else.
“We can wait and give you a ride?” Gael offered.
“No need,” Sam blurted out. “He can ride in with me.”
Talon, Gael, and Finn all focused on him suddenly, as if they had forgotten he was there.
“I mean, we both have to shower. It seems pointless holding you up when you’re ready to go.” Sam tried very hard not to wince at the less-than-subtle hint.
Gael grinned and got up. “Sounds like a plan. No rush, buddy,” he said to Vance. It was said lightly, but everyone heard the thread of steel running through it.
Vance smiled and stood up, idly stretching, and Sam was immediately drawn to the gap between his sweats and where his T-shirt rode up. He was a big guy, yes. Huge, some would say, but Sam would guess he was in better physical shape than half the cops he had worked with. Vance never had a problem keeping up with Sam when they were running into places. In fact, Sam had tried to outrun him a few times, and Vance had still managed to stay with him.
“When’s the funeral?” Talon suddenly said as he got to the door. He looked at Sam. “For Reed?” As if Sam didn’t know what he meant.
Sam swallowed. “I spoke to Sherri yesterday. She’s gonna let me know.”
“Good,” Talon said evenly, “because we’ll all go.”
Sam opened his mouth to say it wasn’t exactly necessary, as the rest of the team hadn’t known Reed, but one quelling look from Talon had him closing it again.
“I don’t know what you were used to in your old unit, Sam, and with you two getting loaned out so soon you didn’t get a chance to get to know us properly, but this unit is family.” Talon glanced at Vance, who was still being fussed over by Finn, and then back at Sam. Sam didn’t look away from the piecing blue eyes even though he wanted to. Talon smiled after a couple of seconds. “I will see you later.”
Sam nodded, feeling like he had just been scolded by his boss. A friendly one, but a warning all the same.
Chapter Three
AND WHO the fuck named their son Hamish, anyway?
Vance glared at the know-it-all DEA agent currently lecturing them on how to do their jobs. Hamish “Call Me Red” Buchanan had been “loaned” to the team, because clearly an FBI unit wasn’t capable of catching any bad guys without their help. And because he’d worked in Vice for two years before another five in the DEA. Because he’d worked with Sam before for, like, five seconds a hundred years ago, and because they thought there was something hinky going on with a new street drug they all needed to know about. Well, he could stick his fucking haggis right where—
“What do you think, Agent Connelly?”
Vance opened his mouth to tell him exactly where he could toss his caber as well, but kept his mouth shut as he remembered how his mom obsessed over Outlander—because, seriously, the dude in a kilt was hot—and grudgingly admitted he should know better. Then he felt Sam’s small hand brush his thigh under the table and did a quick one-eighty. “Why were they undressed?”
Call Me Red shut up in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting the “answer a question you didn’t hear properly with another question to cover it up” technique that Vance and his brothers had quickly perfected growing up. It had worked seamlessly at school, but not so much with their mom. Then Vance realized the question that had popped out was something he actually wanted to know.
“You know,” Sam said consideringly, “that’s something I wondered about.”
Vance tried to picture the two men in his mind. The plastic sheeting had been ineffectual at covering anything. “I don’t remember any blood or obvious injuries.”
Sam glanced at him and nodded in agreement.
“Do we know where the bomb was?” Adam asked.
“Under one of the bodies or very close,” Buchanan answered. “It was an amateurish job by someone in a hurry we think, but forensics will take a while.”
“But why bother?” Sawyer asked. “There was nothing in that back room except a few metal carts and signs that someone had been collecting blood.”
“Blood?” Vance queried.
“It’s a guess,” Talon added. “Gloves, syringes.”
Vance remembered Sam picking up a glove.
“So the only reason for the explosion was to stop us examining or identifying the bodies,” Finn pointed out. “The room had been cleared, more or less, and the two men were already dead.”
“I’d like to know especially how long they had been dead,” Sam said. “And I don’t just mean to narrow down a suspect. I mean because, to be honest, they both looked like they’d been dead a while.”
“Which is why we are now involved,” Gregory confirmed. “Agent Buchanan is our liaison from the Miami office, and while he wasn’t directly involved in the Baton Rouge investigation, we now think there is a chance that the problems in Baton Rouge are related. Buchanan?” Gregory sat back down again and let the agent explain. Vance glanced at the other guy in the corner, who Gregory hadn’t named. Maybe he was Buchanan’s partner?
“Chatter on a new drug t
rend isn’t uncommon,” Buchanan started. “For example, the one to hit last year was called Gray Death.” Vance noticed that of everyone in the room, only Sam nodded in acknowledgment.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Gael said.
Jake frowned. “Isn’t it a heroin mix?”
Buchanan nodded. “Heroin, U-4 or Pink, and fentanyl.”
“Fentanyl, as you know, was originally used in anesthesia but is a hundred times more powerful than morphine. U-4 is about seven times more powerful. It was actually a mix of U-4 and fentanyl that caused the overdose that killed Prince.”
Vance was fascinated. “And they think that had something to do with what we found?”
“Possibly, thanks to chatter on the street, which is why we are finally connecting the dots.” Buchanan grinned at Sam—Vance wanted to skewer his eyeballs. “We got whispers that someone in the Suavez Cartel out of Mexico City has decided to do a little experimenting with something new. If what we have been told is true, the experiments involve using a certain blood type or plasma, specifically enhanced.”
Talon frowned immediately. “But isn’t that impossible?”
Buchanan glanced over at the stranger in the corner of the room. The man sat quietly, hidden behind dark glasses and silence. There was a brief pause, and Gregory spoke up. “My apologies, gentlemen. I should also have introduced Dr. Kenton Williams from the World Anti-Doping Agency and a professor of physiology at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine. He has full clearance to assist in our unit and is here to explain our particular concerns.”
There was another pause before Finn jumped up and practically raced over to shake the doctor’s hand, even before he got to his feet. “Dr. Williams,” Finn said breathlessly. “I read the paper you presented to the Olympic Committee.”
