The Strength of His Heart

by Victoria Sue

  “No, just me,” Sam said and rubbed his thumbs into the back of Vance’s neck. Just me now.

  “Oh my God,” Vance moaned and thankfully closed his eyes again. “You ought to do that as a job.”

  You have no idea.

  He paused. “I mean, not that you’re not good—”

  “Shut up.” Sam chuckled, and Vance relaxed again. Sam put some more cream on and was very gentle on the parts that looked sore.

  “Oh,” Vance moaned again and buried his head in the pillow. Sam swallowed heavily, more and more convinced with each second this was a bad idea.

  “So you didn’t mind making the move to Tampa?” The question was innocent—possibly—but Vance had just given Sam the perfect way to shut this down. Whatever this was, or whatever Vance hoped it might be.

  “I transferred from Atlanta originally.” He took a breath. “Followed a girl, but it didn’t work out.”

  He felt Vance still beneath his hands, and the worst thing was it was partly true. Just not in the way he had meant it to sound to Vance.

  “Yeah?” Vance croaked.

  Sam wiped his hands on the towel, wondering why, now that he’d said it, he regretted it. “Yeah. I thought she wanted to settle down and be a mom.” He had been so wrong… again. “But I guess I would have been too young anyway.” He shrugged and stood up. “Never mind. Plenty of ladies in Florida, huh?” He paused. He could see the doubt and confusion all over Vance’s face, and he needed to—had to—finish this. “I’m a good actor,” he said bluntly. “But no, in case I gave you the wrong impression, I’m not gay.”

  Liar.

  I’M NOT gay. It was like saying, and by the way, your world is about to implode in five, four, three…. Vance sat up and shook his head. Sam was already walking out of the bedroom, along with every single one of Vance’s dreams. Big boy. Every fantasy Vance had ever had involved Sam saying different variations of just that, but his voice would hold a slight touch of awe. He’d lick those lush pink lips, nibble on the silver piercing he sometimes had in his bottom lip. Vance had nearly swallowed his tongue the first time he saw Sam’s pierced nipples. Dreamed of how they’d feel if he rolled them in his fingers, took them in his teeth.

  Vance closed his eyes. Maybe he should just stay in here? Plead sickness. His cock hurt, certainly.

  “Big boy?”

  “What?” Vance choked out and shot to his feet to see Sam standing at the door, looking at him like he had two heads.

  “I just said supper will be ready in thirty minutes,” Sam replied slowly. Shit. Now Vance was hearing things. Then Vance noticed Sam was looking at his hands. Or what they were trying to cover. Even his huge hands couldn’t cover the bulge in his pants, and Vance could feel the shame burn up his neck.

  Sam just turned and walked back out.

  Vance sat on the bed and looked at his fat fingers and the short bitten nails. They were ugly.

  “Hurry up, Connelly,” Mrs. Jenkins snapped as the line got longer behind him in the school cafeteria.

  “There’s no plates, ma’am,” Vance explained politely. One of the cooks had just gone for some.

  Mrs. Jenkins tittered and looked him up and down. “Use your hands.” She smirked. “There aren’t any plates as big as those. Or better still,” she whispered, standing closer to Vance, “miss your lunch entirely. It’s not like you couldn’t do to lose a few pounds.”

  Vance stood frozen for a few seconds until he heard the sniggers behind him, and he simply turned and left the line. Ten minutes later, Daniel found him locked in one of the bathroom stalls in the empty locker rooms. He was trying not to cry, but it really fucking hurt.

  “Stupid cow,” Daniel fumed. “Mom’s gonna have a fit.”

  “No,” Vance gulped. “You can’t tell her or Dad.”

  Daniel shook his head. “You know what Dad always said about bullying. We promised.”

  “It’s not the same.” Vance pointed to his scar. “You know that.”

  “Of course it is,” Daniel protested. “It’s not right. Mom and Dad meant other kids, though. This is even worse.”

  Vance shook his head. Not only had his dad kept his job, but he was going for three stripes. He’d been a junior sergeant for a while now, but this was big. The Connellys had been cops in Tampa for years. “Wait, Daniel. Wait till Dad gets sergeant.”

  Daniel had gazed at him for a long time and then nodded quietly. They all knew what was happening to the enhanced, even though their mom and dad tried to hide it. Daniel had come home with a busted lip only yesterday, furious because someone had called Vance a retard.

  “But you promise me if anyone ever says anything else you’ll tell?”

  Vance promised and felt even worse. He’d known then it would be the one promise he’d made his brother that he would never be able to keep.

  Vance uncurled his fingers and stared at them. Sam’s were so slim. He’d even seen the nails painted while Sam had been posing as Angel.

  Oh God, did he know? Did he know Vance fantasized about Sam ordering him around? Stripping him, wrapping those slim fingers around his cock, trailing his painted nails over his nipples. Was that why Sam had said he wasn’t gay? So Vance didn’t get any ideas?

  Vance glanced down. At least the humiliating thought was effective at cooling him down. Another few minutes and he could walk out. Vance put his head in his hands. What he ought to do was make sure he took all his things with him to work tomorrow so he could go home. There was no point putting himself through this. Gael would see to his back. Hell, any of them would. Vance stood and grabbed his shirt, pulled it over his head, and eased it down.

  “Vance?”

  “Coming,” he called and took a breath. He could do this.

  “THIS IS great,” Vance said, mopping up the last of his sauce with these cute little rolls Sam had also bought at Vine’s. He was stuffed. He hadn’t even pretended to refuse the second plateful that Sam had practically forced on him, because Sam had said maybe Vance was just being polite and saying it was good when really the sauce was out of a jar… and Vance had happily eaten seconds so as not to offend him. He’d also really liked the bowl of salad Sam had made, and that was healthy, right? In fact, Sam seemed to be a damn good cook.

  Which was a nice bonus in a partner or being married to one, as Jacob always insisted. His brother said he had fallen in love with Helen’s cooking skills as much as the woman’s professional ones as a beat cop. Daniel said that seeing as Jacob knew how to pack away good food, he thought it might be a close thing. And whatever, just because nothing else was going to happen, didn’t mean he wanted to upset his partner. Or stop working with him even. Sam had been talking about the case for the last ten minutes and kept asking Vance questions and waiting for the answer. Like he really wanted to know.

  “Have you ever thought about what else you would like to do?”

  “You mean with the case?”

  “No.” Sam stood up and reached for Vance’s plate, but Vance held it away from him.

  “Whoever cooks gets to put their feet up. Connelly rule.”

  “But I’m not a Connelly.” Sam chuckled.

  The things that man said without realizing. “Doesn’t matter,” Vance argued. “It goes for friends too.”

  Sam looked at him in surprise but nodded and sat down. “I meant with your career.”

  Vance thought back to what they had been talking about. “I don’t want to do anything else.”

  “What about your ability?”

  Vance rinsed the dishes before stacking them and then filled the bowl with soapy water. “Being strong helps us on cases.”

  “I meant your other ability. Isn’t it voice recognition?”

  Vance shrugged and had to swallow a huge smile that Sam knew about it. “But that’s no good to anyone.”

  Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how much money Google and Amazon make?”

  “But how could I help with that? I can barely type with
two fingers. Gael would be better with that.”

  “Gael?” Sam said, obviously puzzled.

  “Yeah, Gael can talk to computers, but he doesn’t really bother with that either.”

  Sam looked appalled. “They have absolutely no idea how to use your talents, do they?”

  Vance smiled. It sounded good—talents. “But I couldn’t do anything,” he protested again, shamelessly hoping for another compliment.

  “Hmm,” Sam mused. “I’m surprised the CIA isn’t waiting to recruit you both.”

  Vance laughed at that. “Except we can’t travel to any other countries, and we don’t exactly go unnoticed.”

  Sam grinned and brought in his water glass. “I guess.”

  “I’d really like to fly, though,” Vance said.

  Sam stared at him. “Fighter jet or first class?”

  Vance reddened slightly, but he didn’t care. “Helicopter.” Tampa PD had pilots, but he was happy just to be a cop.

  “I heard there was talk about lifting the restrictions on travel, but it would still be domestic.”

  “Yeah?” Vance hung the sponge up. What he wouldn’t give….

  “Wanna watch a movie?”

  With Sam? Of course he did.

  “Action or horror?”

  Vance rinsed the bowl. “Not horror.”

  Sam’s eyes crinkled. “Scared, big boy?”

  And just like that, every bit of oxygen left Vance’s body. Vance tried to swallow, but invisible fingers were wrapped around his throat, and he couldn’t force anything down. Sam pressed his lips together as if he regretted the words, and he turned quickly and walked into the living room. “Action, then?”

  Vance managed to take a breath. He liked a good action movie. He would never admit in a million years to Sam the sort of movie he watched with his mom. 27 Dresses was his favorite, but he liked Katherine Heigl in just about anything. He picked up a cloth and started drying the plates, slowly. Carefully. He managed to make it last another few minutes, then walked into the living room. Sam was stretched out on the sofa with the remote, and Vance sat in the chair in the corner he had been in this morning.

  Sam pointed the remote at the TV at the same time his cell rang from the kitchen. Sam frowned and got up to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “Angel, it’s me.”

  Vance didn’t move, but he was shocked to hear Sam’s undercover name, and he didn’t recognize the voice. American Midwest certainly, and if he was going to guess, no older than twenty-two, twenty-three tops. Sam glanced at Vance, and something in Vance told him to keep his face straight. A regular might not have heard the voice at all.

  “It’s Jaylen,” he mouthed to Vance.

  “Where are you?” Sam said into the phone.

  “Outside,” Jaylen said, and Vance stood up, frowning.

  Sam’s lips parted in astonishment, but all he said was “I’ll be down in two minutes.”

  “Hurry,” Jaylen begged before Sam ended the call.

  Vance took a step, and Sam shook his head. “No. If he sees anyone else, he’ll panic.”

  “How did he know where to find you?” Vance asked, bewildered.

  “That’s gonna be my second question,” Sam said, and he picked up his keys and phone and was out of the door before Vance had even made it to the kitchen.

  Now what should he do?

  Jaylen had sounded scared out of his wits. Vance didn’t think for one second he was faking it, but how the hell had an informant been able to find out where Sam lived?

  Vance paused. If he was seen and Jaylen ran, Sam would be furious with him. But if there was any danger to Sam, Vance couldn’t do shit stuck up here. Vance made sure his gun was in his waistband and silently let himself out of the apartment, hoping to God he wasn’t about to ruin everything.

  Chapter Six

  SAM STEPPED out of the main door to the apartments, glad all the kids were gone. He looked both ways up the deserted street. He could hear the noise from the nightclub not too far away. A soft whistle had him turning sharply toward the service alley housing the dumpsters for the block, but he didn’t step over there.

  “Angel,” a frightened voice whispered.

  Sam pulled his gun. He had no intention of walking into the dark alley, but he flattened himself against the brick wall that was more in shadow. “Jaylen?”

  The skinny twenty-two-year-old appeared out of the darkness.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked, walking toward him. “Are you okay? Your family—” He bit off the words as stark remorse flickered in Jaylen’s gaze, and Sam tried to twist around just a fraction too late to stop the gun muzzle pushed into his back. He didn’t even think. He moved—instinctively from learning to survive years of attackers bigger and stronger than him—dipped his shoulder, and folded to the side, bringing his left elbow under his assailant’s chin before the man even knew what was happening. Then shots started flying from another direction, and suddenly he was being grabbed by a familiar pair of huge arms as Vance dived on him… again.

  “Get the fuck off me.” Sam struggled, and after a couple of shouts, Vance heaved himself up, gun ready but still trying to block Sam’s view. Footsteps running had Sam whirling around with his own gun out.

  “Drop it,” the cop shouted.

  “FBI,” Sam yelled back.

  “Ronnie?” Vance tried to stand in front of Sam again. The cop looked stunned.

  “Connelly? What the hell?”

  “He’s a fed.” Vance nodded at Sam, and the cop lowered his gun.

  “Sorry. We were passing and heard the shots.”

  Another cop came running toward them. “The shooters just got into a black sedan. Chevy, I think, but I didn’t get the license plate.” He immediately got on his radio.

  “And one of them is Jaylen Gent, Sam’s informant,” Vance said grimly. The other cop’s eyes widened as he repeated the information into his radio.

  Sam was trying to sort out what just happened in his head as another squad car pulled up and Vance groaned. “Passing, my ass,” he muttered at Ronnie, and the cop had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  Sam watched as a man got out from behind the wheel and straightened up. He noted the three stripes on his badge indicating his sergeant rank, but he didn’t need to see the big smile directed at Vance to know he was looking at one of Vance’s brothers. The red hair and brown eyes, identical to Vance’s, pegged him as a Connelly right away, but Sam would guess with the gray mixed in, this was Jacob. This wasn’t Chris’s district, he didn’t think.

  Vance shoved his gun into his waistband and folded his arms. “I suppose I should be grateful it took you a whole twelve hours.”

  The bushy eyebrows went up, and Sergeant Jacob Connelly immediately put his hand out to Sam. “Good to meet you, Agent Piper. We need to take this off the street and get whatever this is straightened out. I heard on the radio. Was Gent the shooter?”

  “No. I didn’t see him with a gun at all.” But Sam had seen regret. Jaylen had been the bait to get him outside. He sighed and looked at the sergeant. “Come up for a coffee, sir.”

  He glanced at Vance, but Vance was also on the phone. It didn’t take a genius to work out he was reporting in to Talon. Great, Sam had better make extra.

  About forty minutes later, Talon arrived, surprisingly with Sawyer in tow. They shook hands with Jacob, whose smile was wide when he saw Talon, but then Talon, much to Sam’s shock, came straight to him, not Vance, and asked if he was okay.

  “Yeah, my bodyguard protected me.” Sam drawled out the sarcastic answer, but instead of seeming chastened, Vance behaved like he’d been told he was doing a good job. Talon obviously got it and clapped Sam on the back, grinning. Sam managed to keep his feet planted under the force of Talon’s hand, just.

  “What did Jaylen want?” Talon asked after taking a sip of his coffee.

  “We didn’t get that far.”

  “And how did he know where you live?�
� Connelly asked immediately.

  “I have no idea,” Sam said. He hesitated. “I think it was a setup.”

  “Why?” Vance asked.

  “Because he looked sorry just before some guy shoved a piece in my back, but I didn’t get a chance to ask anything because bullets started flying.”

  “That was my fault,” Vance said immediately. “As soon as I became a threat to Sam’s attacker, another shooter opened fire.”

  “What did you see?” Talon asked Vance.

  “About five feet eleven inches. Stocky. Had a baseball cap on, and I never saw his face. The second shooter had a Luger semiautomatic.”

  Sam rounded on Vance. “How the hell did you see that?”

  “I didn’t see it,” Vance said. “I heard it. We’ve shot them at the range before, so I know what it sounds like.”

  “You can’t possibly know that,” Sam argued.

  Vance shrugged. “I’m right.”

  Sam gazed at Talon, but Talon simply nodded as if he was agreeing with Vance.

  “Why didn’t you have Vance as a backup, anyway?” Talon asked.

  “How?” Sam asked, completely exasperated. “You know Jaylen would have taken one look and run.”

  “But from the sound of it, it was fortunate Vance was there,” Talon pointed out, which made Sam squirm even more. “If the intention was just to shoot you, you would have been dead as soon as you left the building. I think it’s clear they meant to abduct you.”

  Sam nodded. “But I have no idea why.”

  “And how long have you had the apartment patrolled, big brother?” Vance said mildly, and Connelly chuckled.

  “You really think Mom was just gonna go and see Eric and Joanna without telling us all to watch out for you?”

  “Good thing, as it happened,” Talon repeated.

  Vance scowled. “I had it covered.”

  Connelly stood up and left after inviting the team around to his house next Thursday for a barbeque. Apparently it was his wife’s birthday. Vance saw him out, which left Sawyer, Talon, and Sam. After a few seconds, Vance came to sit back down.