by RJ Scott
The rest of them were talking, strategizing, throwing scenarios out like there wasn't a dead girl in front of him that should still be alive. Bile rose in his throat and he forced it back; his fists clenched but even concentrating hard he couldn't stop how he felt. He had thought his dad was an honest cop for so many years; then to find out he had killed someone just so Josh could live? It made him ill to think about it. He hadn't seen actual photos of the dead girl lying with half her face missing and blood in a pool around her head before. In stark color they sat next to her graduation photo.
Finally he couldn't stop himself being sick and pushing himself to stand he stumbled to his room and the small attached bathroom and lost the hot coffee and breakfast in the space of seconds. He wasn't entirely conscious of someone following him but when hands helped him to stand and cross to the sink he hoped to hell it wasn't Morgan. He couldn't face the man who had seen his dad kill.
"I'm pathetic," Josh moaned miserably.
"Look, Morgan's sorry. We're all sorry. We didn't think," Manny started. He opened the tap and cold water sluiced over Josh's hands. The immediate icy reminder of where he stood was welcome.
"That girl… it's my fault."
"You were in college," Manny offered sensibly.
"How can it be your fault?"
"He killed her. My dad. He killed her so that the Bullens wouldn't hurt me. She died because of me."
Manny shook him quite briskly and Josh snapped from his immediate reaction to being sick. "What drove your dad to kill Elisabeth Costain had nothing to do with you."
"But—"
"It was his own decision; it was the only way he saw out of the mess. He was weak and scared. He didn't put a gun to her head and shout some kind of war cry like 'this is for my son'. He simply shot her. You didn't tell him to do it."
"No. I didn't. But—"
"You need to stop. We don't have time for you to lose your freaking breakfast every time real life hits you in the face. Enough wallowing in what is and isn't your fault.
Okay?"
Josh blinked at Manny. Saw strength in the man that he wished he had himself.
"Okay?" Manny insisted. "You need time to get yourself sorted, 'cause I know you can. Brush your teeth okay?" With that he left the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind him.
Josh, boneless, slumped on the side of the bath.
Brush my teeth. Focus on brushing my teeth.
Shaking himself, he found a sliver of determination and pushed himself to stand. Manny was right. Josh wasn't stupid—at the core of it he wasn't responsible for his dad pulling the trigger. That was what he needed to focus on.
He could push the guilt and horror down and the rest of it?
Well he'd work through that clusterfuck in his head later.
Yes, he felt responsible, but he could pull that out later to examine it. Right now he needed to be out there listening to intel and breaking the Bullen family into single pieces as soon as he could. He pulled his toothbrush out and squeezed mint paste in abundance. The mint turned his stomach but he pushed through the feelings of wanting to be sick again.
Pushing through the rest of the shit in his head would be harder.
But he was Joshua Headley. He wasn't his dad. He could do this.
Manny was right.
CHAPTER 7
Between them agreement was reached that this place was as good a place as any for Morgan and Nik to use as space on this case. Manny sensed Nik would be happier actually out doing something but ever since the cop had turned on the Bullens and Alastair was in jail Morgan had become Nik's number-one priority. Manny sat watching them as they bickered and laughed like an old married couple. Morgan decided the whole murder web needed to be up on the wall and Manny didn't disagree. Visual representation of what had happened to date was the best way to get his head around it all.
He had caught Josh on more than one occasion with a wistful expression on his face as he too watched the others. The sheets of paper were succumbing to gravity and Manny could swear Morgan was doing it deliberately just so he could have Nik bending over and scrabbling on the floor. To be honest, with an ass like Nik's, if he was Nik's lover he would demand Nik stayed bent over all day.
At the moment, with all the sheets finally tacked to the wall, Morgan and Nik were standing and staring and Josh moved to stand next to them. Well, next to them was perhaps a bit generous, near them more like. With enough space to be out of arm's reach.
"Can I ask a question?" Josh asked uncertainly.
Both Morgan and Nik turned to him expectantly and Manny saw the instinctive move that Josh made backward.
"Go on," Morgan said and then smiled.
Shuffling sideways Josh touched his fingers to the paper, which stayed in position. "You have evidence of Alastair being involved in some kind of murder on the estate that they lived on." He traced a purple line to the photo of the dress and some kind of forensics report, and then up to the photo of his dad which he tapped. "Does he not know anything about it?"
Morgan shook his head, "It's in the report from interviews that he knew nothing."
"And we trust him?"
Silence. Uneasy silence. Morgan evidently didn't know what to say and Nik was looking at his feet. It was evidently up to Manny to answer Josh's question.
"He has nothing to lose now. You're safe and so is your mom. I'm convinced he told us everything."
Josh considered the response for a second. "Then we have two things to think about if I'm correct. One, we need to link a body to the murder and that will take down Alastair once and for all. Two, we need to dig into the connection the senator has to his brothers and if we find one single thing we take him down too." There was fire tracing every single one of Josh's words.
"Correct," Manny agreed.
Morgan nodded and even Nik looked up and met Josh's passion-filled gaze. In that simple summation Josh had evidently moved in Nik's eyes from son of a murderer to a member of the team.
"I'll check in with the forensics team," Nik said and pulled out his cell.
"I'll make more coffee," Morgan added.
"I'll read that report from Lee and Adam," Josh said simply. He turned quickly and walked around the corner to the computer room.
Manny was torn. Part of him wanted to go after Josh and provide some sort of—hell if he knew—comfort maybe? Jeez, he was getting soft with his thirtieth birthday looming. He made some kind of non-committal noise and crossed to the safe, one press of his thumb later his beloved Glock was in his hand. He went into his own room and pulled a bag from under the bed and carefully set everything out on a wide towel. Cloth rags, solvent, a small brush, and lint-free cloth.
His dad had taught him to shoot. He was only eight but he had already practiced with a .22, both a pistol and a rifle, to learn proper form. By the age of fourteen he had progressed to a .380 Auto caliber Beretta and with the muscles of a teenager he could outshoot most. He was fascinated with the workings of the weapons, the history of them, and the warnings from history when they were abused. He had never actually used a gun to kill, he was far too accurate for that, and in fact he had only pulled his weapon in anger twice since joining Sanctuary. That wasn't entirely accurate. His Glock .45 caliber was never used in anger. He had a cold precision about him when the cool steel was in his hands.
Cleaning the gun enabled him to think about the things going on around him. Being away from Sanctuary felt odd but even Jake finally had to admit he was the best person for the job. What he didn't know about guns wasn't worth writing about and he had the family connection. His great-great-grandfather had left Italy with nothing more than his name and a contact in San Diego; what he passed down, ultimately to Manny's uncle, had been a network of crime that even Manny, with all the computers he had, couldn't get his head around. All he knew was that by his dad taking him and his mom and sister up to Seattle, Manny had at least had some semblance of a normal childhood.
Add in that he was some kind of ge
nius, according to every test available, and Manny had his place in the world. The man who had killed his father was gone. No one cared about Manny Sullivan, ensconced in the Sanctuary Foundation in Albany. He bet though, that with the background story that he and Jake had concocted, he would be of some interest to the Bullens.
Vincenzio. Mannet. Luis. Altosinno. He said the four separate names that labeled him in his head. They had been left behind a long time ago.
"Vincenzio Altosinno, pleased to meet you," he muttered again and wiped at a stray speck of oil until the cold steel was bright and blemish-free in his hands.
"Vincenzio Altosinno, yes, my grandfather was a great man, yes it's a terrible shame we lost the old ways, yes I am perfectly capable and happy to deal weapons with you. No, of course I don't have a conscience, Altosinno sons have it removed at birth."
Manny sighed and gathered together the cleaning supplies, carefully placing them in the bag they originally came from. Lying about who he was would be way past hard and nearing impossible. He wasn't Vincenzio anymore. He felt more real as Manny than he did as Vincenzio and wasn't that ironic. Playing the role of Vincenzio now made him realize the lies he had built to become Manny. He didn't want to be thinking that way.
Still, it wouldn't be for long. Just enough to plant cameras and maybe get some downloads from computers—nothing he hadn't done before. Just. Before, he'd impersonated a janitor, or an admin guy, or a postman. Never the sole remaining Altosinno family member.
Never himself.
"Hey," Josh's voice was behind him at the door and Manny looked up, irritated. "I knocked," Josh explained.
"You didn't answer."
"Maybe because it's my room," Manny snapped.
Immediately he felt remorse for being a dick but it was too late to pull it back now. To his credit, Josh's expression didn't change and he clearly wasn't moving. "Come in,"
Manny finally said. He waved at the bed and indicated Josh should sit. He did, causing Manny to move slightly as the bed dipped. Idly, he turned his Glock over in his hands and waited for whatever Josh was going to say.
Josh had never seen anything as freaking hot as Manny Sullivan and his gun. The man held it and turned it and each move was done with economy of motion and precision. He loved those bits in cowboy films when the victorious gun-slingers twirled their just-used revolvers and slid them into a holster. It was something so sexy and confident and in charge. He almost forgot the question he wanted to ask and instead realized he was staring like a starving man at a steak dinner. Jeez. How long had it been since he'd wanted just for the sake of wanting? Not only had Eric turned out to be an asshole liar who was using him but the contact between them was so old and staid. Manny's lithe body promised sin and Josh barely restrained himself from leaning over and tasting.
"Hello?" Manny was saying as he waved a hand in front of Josh's face. Damn man had a smirk on his face as well. "You had a question."
"Where do you holster your gun?"
"You came in to ask me that?" Manny sounded amused. Josh even opened his mouth to retract the question but by that time Manny had slid off the bed to stand.
"Sometimes I have a side holster, but most of the time I like to put it here," he said. Checking the safety, he turned his back to Josh. Lifting his shirt he exposed a strip of toned skin and the space left by slightly looser jeans. Carefully he placed the Glock in the space and the then let the tee fall back into place.
Josh couldn't help himself. Fire was trickling through his body and his dick was like iron. How could he not have known he had some kind of weird gun kink? He stood and took the few steps to stand behind Manny, who was looking back at him over his shoulder with a bemused expression on his face. Josh lifted the shirt to look at the gun, fascinated.
"Is it cold against your skin?" Josh asked softly. The hand holding the shirt pressed against bare skin and his other hand rested on the leather belt through the jean loops.
"No," Manny replied. "It takes the heat from me."
"Can I touch it?" Maybe Manny was expecting him to pull the gun out of its place, but Josh didn't wait for an answer and his fingers traced the shape of the gun, which seemed dark against Manny's tan body. Manny inhaled deeply as Josh continued his exploration of skin around to where it stretched tight over hip bones.
Josh didn't think he had ever felt so turned on, the eroticism of the moment made him want to close his eyes so he could ensure the image was imprinted in his brain.
"What are you doing?" Manny asked softly.
Josh looked over his shoulder and met Manny's lust-filled eyes. "What do you want me to do?" Josh asked just as softly.
Time slowed to a stop, a breathless moment where every possibility played out in Josh's mind. What was Manny going to answer? Josh pressed closer, the length of him hard and pressed against the gun and Manny's tight, denim-clad ass.
"A kiss," Manny asked as he exhaled.
"I can do that—" Josh leaned in that extra inch and pressed his lips to Manny's. The position may well have been awkward, but on a sighed groan Manny parted his lips and Josh took immediate advantage. Gently he turned Manny in his hold and then walked him back a few steps until the man was against the wall. Josh deepened the kiss.
His fist was still clenched in material that was bunched around Manny's back and his other hand was pushing up and under to search for warm skin beneath. Manny's hands twisted in Josh's hair and pulled him closer. Frustration spilled through Josh at the touch; he wanted to feel Manny's dick hard and needy against his but he was too tall. In a fluid move he widened his stance and finally they were pressed together, heat against heat.
Fire lit in his groin and the sensation of Manny there pressed into him was enough to make him want to push Manny onto the bed and just taste him all over. This kissing needed to move from standing to horizontal immediately. He began to maneuver Manny to the bed, strong sharp tugs without separating from the kiss. Manny pulled back and the kiss snapped apart abruptly.
"No stopping," Josh begged. He couldn't begin to stop the need in his voice; it didn't matter if that made him sound pathetic. Manny tasted like heaven and the idea of that slim muscled body under him, over him—fuck—laying bare to his touch, was too much.
"Wait… before…" Manny was trying to talk.
That wasn't right. Josh wanted touching, not talking.
"No talking—" Josh stopped the words with a heated attack of lips and tongue and Manny was giving back as good as he got. Until suddenly he wasn't. He was pushing Josh away, and, startled, Josh stumbled back. This was it. This was the moment Manny asked what the hell Josh was doing.
"Wait," Manny said firmly. "I need to say something."
Josh stopped as the words pierced the fuzziness in his head. Manny sounded hurt, or worried, or something that wasn't right to be placed here. "What? Are you okay?"
"If we do this," Manny began carefully, "you've got to know. I'm not a big guy but that doesn't mean I'm a girl."
Josh groaned and tried for another kiss. Fuck. Nothing about Manny made Josh feel like the man was a freaking girl. "I switch," Manny continued. "I'm strong. Don't treat me like I'm not. Okay?" Manny managed to get out between kisses. If it was possible, Josh was harder in seconds. He wanted Manny like nothing else, but the idea of this man taking him, of pushing him down and fucking him into next week? Perfect.
"I'm so good with that," Josh said simply. With a shove he managed finally to get Manny laid back on the bed. "Right now, I just want a taste." He scrambled onto the bed, straddling Manny who was undoing his belt and pushing down his jeans. Was the gun in the way? Did Manny need to move it?
"Stop thinking," Manny demanded, "and start tasting." He fisted a handful of Josh's hair and guided him down.
How could Josh refuse such a demanding touch?
The very end of Manny's dick was visible above dark boxer briefs and just to get a taste would be enough for now. Josh leaned over and touched the tip of his tongue to Manny, who instinctively a
rched up into the pressure. Josh didn't delay with pretty touches and gentle action. He pulled the material to one side and down, until the full length of Manny was available. In seconds he had the weight of this man on his tongue, in his mouth. Quickly and messily and very aware there were people in the next room, Josh used every trick in the book to reduce Manny to nothing more than sensation.
Josh needed this like he needed air. Connection and an orgasm by his own hand based on memories of this blow job alone were marked on the cards. The connection was the harder part. He liked Manny, especially when Manny was arching and begging with his body for that final push to lose it. Liking Manny made this one-off thing that much harder. Josh didn't have room in his life for a significant other, but two weeks in this place, perhaps more, they may as well have some fun.
"Shit. Sorry." The words echoed in the room.
It sounded like Nik at the door, but Josh wasn't going to stop. Nik would leave. Manny thrust hard and stiffened in orgasm; with a muffled cry he was shooting hard. Josh heard the door shut. Fuck. Hadn't they even locked the door?
Manny laughed as he laid his arms out to his side on the bed. He laughed. Which was kind of okay given Josh's erection had died a sudden and probably terminal death.
"Should have locked the door," Manny snorted.
Josh leaned over the smiling man who looked as relaxed as a cooked noodle. Bending his head he captured a kiss, attempting to share the taste in his mouth. A hand buried in his hair and Manny was grinding lips and tongue and then gentled the action in a slow and lazy slide of tongues.
Finally he allowed Josh to pull back and there was a rueful smile on his kiss-swollen lips.
Josh thought about what he should say. The usual things came to mind. I don't usually do this. You're my co-worker, we shouldn't do this. But all that came out of his mouth was what he actually felt.
