Reckless Behavior
Page 22
“Things have been so quiet,” he’d said after wedging his toiletry kit into the stuffed suitcase, “doesn’t seem like we need a vacation, you know?”
“Isn’t like we can take off when things are chaotic.”
“Fair point. Might as well take advantage—God knows how long this quiet is going to last.”
Actually, I was pretty sure I knew how long it would last. Unbeknownst to Darren, I’d asked the captain to keep us off the big cases for a little while. We hadn’t had any real downtime since we’d brought down the citywide narcotics ring, after all. And with Darren finally getting tested to see if he had the gene for the disease that had slowly and horrifically killed his brother, he needed some breathing room.
Captain Hamilton hadn’t protested. In fact, he’d asked me three times if I was serious, or if it was the pain meds talking. By that point, I’d been off the drugs, though, and it was absolutely me making the request. Given that Darren was still grieving his brother, and I was still fucked up in the head after what had happened with my kids, it didn’t take any arm-twisting to get us both on unofficial light duty.
What I hadn’t told him was that the downtime wasn’t just so we could each get our heads together. It was for us too. As a couple. The day of Asher’s funeral, Darren had commented that we’d never had much time together where life wasn’t in utter chaos, and that had needled at me for a while. What if when we did have some downtime, we realized it was only the stress keeping us together? Like how the adrenaline had kept me on my feet when things had gone down with Blaine. As soon as everything had calmed down, the adrenaline and endorphins had ditched me, and my feet hadn’t stayed under me.
Surgery could fix my ankle. Hell, it had. Mostly.
Our relationship? If it wasn’t on solid ground without the world falling apart all around us, then we needed to find a way to put it there. And since I wasn’t so hot at fixing relationships anyway, I decided we could use all the help we could get.
So instead of chasing down dirty cops and ugly homicides, we’d had the more boring detail lately. The kinds of cases that were just interesting enough to warrant assigning detectives, but meant bullets weren’t flying at our heads and we were usually home by six. Things like proving a dipshit banker had sunk his own boat for the insurance. Or that the bakery on Sixth Street was actually a front for a slightly successful but not very intelligently run weed-selling operation. So fucking exciting. Though I had to admit, it wasn’t very often we ran into cases like the accountant’s wife who’d hired a hitman to take out her husband, and then reported the guy for running off with the money.
Most detectives found assignments like that insulting. Typically, I would have too. These days, at least until I had caught my breath and was sure about things with Darren, I didn’t complain. Neither did he.
In the end, though, I didn’t have anything to worry about. Without the bullets flying, we settled easily into a life outside of work. Even after spending all day together, it was never a question that we’d spend the evening the same way. In fact, between my last two surgeries, we’d ditched both of our bachelor pads and rented a bigger place together. One with enough room for my kids to visit, of course. Including my orthopedic surgeon-in-law who needed to learn to give it a rest when, yes, I was going to carry that box up the goddamned stairs.
Living with Darren turned out to be perfectly boring. His less-than-neat habits were a bit less-than-endearing in a shared space, and he could have done without me forgetting to DVR that sitcom he liked for some reason, but that was really the extent of the teeth-gnashing. Kind of ironic, given how things had started between us, but I didn’t bitch. The fact that our life together wasn’t flawless made me believe it was real. That neither of us was on our best behavior just to keep the peace. Every time we sniped at each other over something stupid, and then wound up in the same bed that night as if it had never happened, I believed a little more that we really could make this thing work.
When the whole world was on fire, we leaned on each other and got each other through it. When everything was boring and nothing was happening, we stayed close just because we wanted to. It was perfect.
The future was anyone’s guess. We were cops—anything could happen to either of us. That was the reality of our job. At least I still had the relief of knowing Darren had dodged a genetic bullet. As long as we kept dodging the literal ones, we were good.
A theatrical groan shook me out of my thoughts, and I looked up just as Darren dropped into the seat beside me. “Jesus fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ugh.” He handed me one of the water bottles. “Is it just me, or does air travel bring out the worst in people?”
I chuckled as I unscrewed the cap. “Oh come on. I didn’t snarl that hard at the TSA guy.”
Darren laughed. “No, you didn’t. But the lady in front of me in line?” He tilted his head toward the shop he’d just left. “Swear to God, she spent five minutes chewing out the cashier for giving her two nickels instead of a dime for change.”
I rolled my eyes. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have such enormous problems?”
“Right?” He sighed, then put his hand on my leg. “How’s your ankle?”
“Eh. Nothing that won’t be helped by staying off it for a while.”
“Well, we have a seven-hour flight.” He frowned at the ankle in question. “Don’t joints sometimes swell up in the air? Maybe we should check with the airline and see if they can—”
“Darren.” I laced my fingers between his, vaguely aware of—and not caring about—the guy scowling at us from another seat. “Relax. I’ll be fine.”
“But I don’t want you to be—”
“I’ll be fine.” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Zach prescribed some muscle relaxers in case I need them, and I still have some pain pills left if it gets really bad. But it hasn’t been more than an annoying little ache since that last surgery.” To emphasize, I flexed my ankle a few times. The ache intensified, but barely. “Don’t worry about it.”
He scowled at my foot for a moment, but slowly, he started to relax. “Just say so if it’s not, okay? Don’t be a martyr.”
“Deal.”
We exchanged smiles. If we’d been somewhere a bit more private, or at least more familiar, we probably would’ve stolen a kiss. Surrounded by strangers who might or might not have an issue with two men being more affectionate than holding hands? Strangers who’d be sharing our plane for several hours? Maybe not. So, a look sufficed. I’d make it up to him once we were in our hotel suite.
A few minutes later, the plane started boarding. Normally, flying made me tense—not nerves so much as general irritation—but I didn’t think much could kill my good mood today. A few hours of misery were a small price to pay for the R&R that awaited us on the other end.
For the next three weeks, it was just us, the sun, and white sand beaches. When we came back, we’d be relaxed, refreshed, and ready to get back to the real cases.
And Darren’s ring would be ready.
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Bad Behavior series, with Cari Z
Risky Behavior
Suspicious Behavior
Romantic Behavior (January 2018)
Anchor Point series
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See L.A. Witt’s full booklist at: gallagherwitt.com
Bad Behavior series, with L.A. Witt
Risky Behavior
Suspicious Behavior
Romantic Behavior (January 2018)
Panopolis series
Where There’s Smoke
Where There’s Fire
Where There’s a Will
Friendly Fire
House Rules (in the Rules to Live By anthology)
Tempest
Shadows & Light
Changing Worlds
Soothsayer
A Blinded Mind
Surviving the Change
Camellia and Camellia: Spring Blossom, with Caitlin Ricci
Perilous
L.A. WITT is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn't lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut . . .
Website: gallagherwitt.com
Twitter: @GallagherWitt
Email: gallagherwitt@gmail.com
CARI Z is a Colorado girl who loves snow and sunshine. She likes edged weapons, prefers books to television shows, and goes weak at the knees for interesting men and exciting explosions (but not at exactly the same time—that would be so messy).
Blog: carizerotica.blogspot.com
Twitter: @author_cariz
Website: cari-z.net
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