Balls and Chain
A Handcuffs and Lace Story
By Mia Watts
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Balls and Chain
Copyright © 2011, Mia Watts
Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-367-6
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain,
is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of
$250,000.
Electronic release: August 2011
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely
coincidental.
To the readers who wouldn’t let go of She’s Got Balls without a fight.
This one, and the rest of the series, is for you.
Love,
Mia
Chapter One
“Mr. Bahlson, are you refusing to help the United States Government?” The stony-faced
agent wrinkled his forehead with concern, only on Agent Gifford, the forehead extended over the
entire bald cranium and glinted in the light from the window behind him.
“No,” Sam Bahlson corrected. “I didn’t say that. Your crew charged into my office,
pulled me out of there and hauled me—where the hell am I anyway?”
“That’s inconsequential.”
“It’s inconsequential for you, maybe. For me? You just fucked up my Monday.” Sam put
his hands on his hips. There was so much he wanted to rant about, but he sensed that ranting
against the Federal Bureau of Investigation wouldn’t be the wisest choice.
Sam sighed. Agent Gifford sat back in his squeaky chair like a disappointed father figure
trying to reason with a petulant five year old.
“Why am I in custody? What did I do that warrants the FBI sweeping into my office and
dragging me to—seriously, where the hell are we?” Sam tried to get to the window to see if he
could identify the downtown area.
A burly guy standing next to Agent Gifford’s desk, moved directly into Sam’s path. Sam
threw his arms up in defeat and walked back to where he’d been standing.
“It’s on a need to know basis,” Gifford said.
“Can I at least call my boss and tell him I’m going to be late?”
Gifford exchanged looks with the beefcake who’d blocked Sam. “I’ll share information
once you’re secured. For now, you’re going to be taking a little vacation.”
“What about my family? My job? My mortgage payments? What about my cat?”
“Your Uncle Sam will see to everything.” Gifford offered cryptically. “And you don’t
have a cat, or nearby family.”
Shock jolted Sam. “How do you know that?”
“We’re the FBI. We know everything.”
“What did I do? Is it something I did?” Sam asked desperately.
“No, sir. I told you. You have information, and we simply need your help.”
Sam stared at him long and hard. He was a relative nobody, definitely not a threat to
national security. “Why be secretive? Why not just ask? What do you think I know?”
All questions he’d asked and received no answer for already, but somehow asking them
again felt clever. It was met with the same flat, tired look Sam had been given last time.
“Can you put me under house arrest or something? I have a life, and I’d like to keep it
intact,” Sam told him. “You can’t just take me away from it. This is a free country,” he finished
lamely.
Gifford’s answer was to push a button on his phone panel. A voice came on in response.
Gifford leaned over the speaker. “Send in Agent Cheney.”
“Yes, sir,” the voice said.
“Mr. Bahlson, the United States Government has your best interests in mind. Trust us on
that.”
“Agent Gifford,” Sam replied. “If the United States Government did have my best
interests in mind, you’d quit taxing the shit out of me and leave me enough to live off of without
taking a second job.”
There was another exchanged look.
“What? What is that?” Sam said motioning between Gifford and Beefcake.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. We’re actually trying to protect you while
securing your help. We can’t talk about it here. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
“Am I in danger?”
“Yes.”
Sam swallowed hard. His knees felt quaky. Searching his memory, he tried to think of
anything that might smack of danger but came up dry. He lived a fairly quiet life, worked two
jobs, hung out with friends once a week or so. He called his parents on Sunday evenings, and he
lived alone.
“You must have the wrong guy,” Sam protested. “I’m nobody. I’m just a guy living a
completely non-scandalous life with no shady friends. Maybe you meant to pick up a different
Samuel James Bahlson?”
Gifford smiled benignly. “We have the right man, Mr. Bahlson.”
The door opened. Sam turned to see what new menace they had waiting for him. The
Menace, evidently Agent Cheney, sauntered in. He didn’t look like an agent. He looked like a
professional bull rider.
Did bull riders have that many muscles? Maybe a wrestler except when he pushed his
impenetrable sunglasses to his forehead, he didn’t have that glazed-over, stupid look. The
Menace actually seemed a little too keen for Sam’s peace of mind. He couldn’t be certain, but
Sam doubted he could get much information out of this guy.
And since when did FBI agents wear snug black wife-beaters and torn blue jeans? The
buzzed haircut beneath his backward-brim black cap and impressively squared jaw reemphasized
the wall-ness. There was no breaching to be had here.
Sam paled. “Oh, shit. You’re going to interrogate me, aren’t you? Can you try asking me
a question first? You haven’t just asked me anything. Do we really have to go straight into the
torture? Should I have an attorney present?”
Agent Cheney pulled off his baseball cap and sunglasses off his forehead—why the fuck
had he been wearing them indoors? For intimidation? Damn full-of-himself agent with his
muscles and buzzed hair. The point was already made. Agent Buzzcut had to know that. But
Cheney shot him an annoyed look, then flicked his gaze toward Gifford.
Sam nearly heard the whip-crack sound effect. Gorgeous and surly. Awesome.
“Sir?” Cheney rumbled.
“Sam Bahlson, meet Agent Jude Cheney. Agent Cheney, I’ve given you the specifics. I’ll
be contacting you with more, later.” Gifford pushed a cell phone across the table. “Secure line.
Keep the phone on you at all times. Second pair of eyes near the safe house.”
“Is that like backup?” Sam asked.
Gifford and Cheney ignored him completely.
“Yes, sir.” Cheney picked up the phone and tucked it into his front pocket.
Cheney slapped the hat down over Sam’s head, and pushed the sunglasses up the bridge
of Sam’s nose almost brutally.
“What the hell?” Sam said as the whole room went into shadows.
Cheney grabbed his arm. “All set. Let’s go.”
Cheney dragged him out of the office. As they went down the hall, Cheney snagged two
coats, one leather and one Member’s Only. He shoved the Member’s Only at Sam. “Put it on.”
“If this is a disguise, it sucks. You give me the suckiest jacket to wear and expect no one
to notice? Clever. You’re so clever,” Sam muttered.
“Shut up and stay close.”
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Cheney shot him a look. Sam ignored it. They took the stairs down eight flights to an
enclosed parking garage. Was the FBI elevator too risky? Cheney opened the passenger side
door and helped him in, then jogged around to the driver’s side.
“Sink down,” Cheney barked.
“Because a guy slumped down in the front seat, wearing a cap and glasses isn’t at all
suspicious.”
“I don’t care if they see you. They just can’t recognize you.”
“If someone is watching me closely enough to see me enter the office with agents, don’t
you think that a dude hiding could possibly spark their curiosity enough to—I dunno—suppose
that it might be me?”
“Great. They saddled me with a smart ass.” Cheney shook his head as he checked traffic
and pulled out.
“Great. They saddled me with a muscle head.”
Cheney shot him a dark look.
“That’s right. Get it all out. That much evil stored up in one space can’t be healthy for
you.”
Cheney snorted, turned his face away as he checked the approaching side streets.
Cheney—who in his right mind gave a man named Cheney a gun—pointed the car
southwesterly. It was well into the ass-numbing ride and a gas tank later, that they turned off one
of many country roads to an almost undetectable gravel path. Bushes scraped the sides of the car
like eerily sharpened fingernails leaping out of the dark.
The gnarled branches above clawed boney fingers at the moon, which was their only light
since Cheney had turned off his headlamps. It was like some scene from a horror movie, and
Sam half expected a raging lunatic with an axe to crash through the windshield at any moment.
Sam gripped the armrest, squinting as though it would help to block out things he
couldn’t see coming at them anyway.
“How can you drive in this?” Sam snapped.
“Eyes. Situated at the front of my head for optimal forward viewing.”
“Now who’s the smart ass.”
He thought Cheney smirked, but he couldn’t be sure. Finally the car stopped. Cheney told
him to get out.
“Here? There’s nothing,” Sam argued.
“There isn’t supposed to be. C’mon. We hoof it.”
“Hoof it? In the middle of the night? I still don’t know why you’re holding me, or what
you want.”
Cheney popped the trunk and lifted out a duffle.
“Where’d that come from? Do you have any other secrets I should know?” Sam asked.
“I’m a fucking Boy Scout,” Cheney deadpanned. He hooked Sam’s arm. “Walk.”
With Cheney behind him and darkness ahead, Sam had no idea where Cheney thought he
should walk. Scrub and trees formed a barrier before him.
Cheney sighed. Before Sam had time to acknowledge the cool metal or the clicking
sound, Cheney had cuffed their wrists together. Then dodging around Sam, Cheney walked
straight into the natural wall. Sam stumbled behind him, arm outstretched.
“Right,” he snarked at Cheney’s wide back. “Because I was going to run home from here.
In the dark. With a big-ass agent chasing me and God knows who else.”
The walk seemed endless. Sam originally thought they’d tromp a few hundred yards and
arrive at wherever the destination was. Cheney had different ideas. He zigzagged through the
dark like a guided missile. Either he had night vision, or they were spectacularly lost.
“Are we there yet?” Sam quipped tiredly.
“No.”
“Oh, fount of knowledge, pray tell me when we might be delivered of this vegetative
prison?”
“When we’re done getting there,” Cheney answered.
“Wow. That’s profound.”
That was it. Enough. Sam dug in his heels. It barely slowed Cheney, but it served its
purpose, and Cheney finally looked back. Dawn touched the forest with gray. It had been hours.
Fucking hours of walking. It had been more than a day since they’d left the FBI office, and Sam
was ready to fall with exhaustion.
“You’re lost, aren’t you.” Sam stated rather than asked.
“No.”
Sam hung his head for a minute, gathering his tired thoughts. When he looked up again,
he squared his body toward Cheney. “Can I just have a straight answer? Please?”
Jude looked at his haggard charge. Sam Bahlson was ready to drop, yet he stood his
ground and nailed Jude with a steady no-shit stare. He’d looked into Sam’s eyes enough to know
the intensity of his blue gaze. Early morning leeched them of color, making them look silver
instead. Sam’s once perfectly styled hair stuck up funny in the back where his head had rested
against the car seat, and his tightly held mouth had relaxed. The fight in him seemed mostly
gone.
“I’ve been a good sport. I’m doing my civic duty to obey my country. I’m not going
anywhere. I just want to know what’s going on.”
“We’re almost there,” Jude relented. “Another five minutes.”
Relief flooded Sam’s features. He nodded sharply. “Okay then. Let’s go.”
A flare of pride warmed Jude’s chest. He’d asked a lot of Sam, and the man continued to
press on. Jude wouldn’t have been half as accepting as Sam had been. Especially since Jude had
wound them through the woods in a roundabout maze to confuse any trackers. They’d parked
within two miles of the cabin.
They cleared the next rise. The cabin nestled between the trees like it had become a part
its surroundings.
Jude uncuffed Sam. “Do I have to tell you not to move?”
Sam shook his head. Jude held his gaze a little longer, making sure Sam meant it. He
seemed too tired to run. It was another reason Jude had walked them so long. He needed Sam’s
compliance, and ever since Jude picked him up at the office, Sam had been a bundle of nervous
energy and questions.
“Good. I’ll be back once I know it’s clear.”
Sam nodded again, stifling a yawn as he sat on the roots of a nearby tree.
Jude circled the cabin, surreptitiously checking the generator wires and gas lines, peering
into the few windows, and checking for ground signs of disturbance. Finding none, he unlocked
and pushed the door inward. It swung silently. No sound came from inside.
Jude took a breath and slipped in, letting his eyes adjust as he pressed to the inside wall.
Nothing moved. The air had a stale smell about it that told him the cabin hadn’t been aired out
despite the fact that he knew it had been supplied. The key to a boat lock sat in the middle of the
kitchenette counter attached to the main room. That was the escape plan. Beyond the main room,
was a single bedroom and a small bathroom. The cabin was clear.
Jude climbed the small rise outside the cabin. He reached for Sam’s shoulder to wake him
and hesitated. Yellow sunlight filtered through the scrawny fall leaves to whisper across Sam’s
face. Though he’d been following Sam at a distance for the last few days, he hadn’t actually
looked at him before. It would have personalized him, and Jude instinctively knew personalizing
Sam could present a problem.
His straight, black eyebrows and squared eyes weren’t squinted with fatigue when he
slept. The bold angles of his handsome face seemed calm, airbrushed with early light and fading
shadows. Lips that had been tight with annoyance filled, the top cupid’s bow slightly fuller than
the bottom sweeping pout.
A smartass and a pretty boy. Great.
He liked Sam’s lean lines and broad shoulders. Jude took in the details he hadn’t allowed
himself to notice in the office. Sam Bahlson was a knockout. He had that collegiate loping stride,
and the attitude that the world was just opening up for him. He had no fear of life. Jude had once
felt that way, too. Before he’d been recruited to the FBI. It wasn’t that Jude feared, it was that he
understood now why fear existed.
He’d dodged bullets of all sizes, stared death in the face, and had held lives in the
balance. But this resting man, possessing no weapon whatsoever, felt like more of a threat to
Jude’s safety than a thousand terrorists glaring down a thousand rifles.
Jude had work to do and staring at his charge wasn’t going to get it done. He shook
Sam’s shoulder. “You can do that inside. We’re all clear.”
Sam swallowed a yawn as he followed Jude inside. Jude pointed to the back room.
“That’s the bedroom. Get some rest.”
“What are you going to do?” Sam asked rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.
“I’m going to cover our tracks. Stay here. Don’t let anyone in.”
“As if they could find this place,” Sam muttered, trudging to the bedroom.
Jude grinned at his retreating back. “All the same, let no one in. Don’t even indicate that
there’s anyone in the cabin. I’m locking you in while I’m gone.”
“’Kay.”
Chapter Two
The intoxicating scent of coffee roused Sam from sleep. A bacon aroma punctuated his
stomach’s insistence that he get up. He stuck his head out of the bedroom to see Cheney flipping
pancakes on a griddle in nothing but a pair of jeans. He could see the handle of a gun tucked into
the back of Jude’s waistband. Jude had tossed a white kitchen towel over his shoulder. The white
edge of his boxers hugged the taut muscles of his hips and abs above the jean-line.
“How long have I been out?” Sam asked.
Jude flicked a glance to the microwave. “About four hours.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
Jude lifted his chin to indicate the couch. Sam dumbly looked at it. A blanket and a
pillow were folded on one of the seat cushions.
“You slept on the couch?”
“Yeah. You were in the bed.” Jude spooned batter onto the sizzling griddle then quickly
flipped the bacon. “Shower’s in there. There’s a towel on the rack.”
“Thanks.” Sam took another long look at the sexy man making their breakfast, puffed out
his breath, then retreated to the safety of the bathroom.
He took a long shower, hoping the warm water would wake him up. He had questions,
lots of them, and a hunky half-dressed man wasn’t going to keep him from asking. It wasn’t until
after he got out of the shower that he realized he didn’t have any clean clothes.
Sam wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking into the main room, Sam motioned
apologetically at his towel. “I don’t suppose your duffle bag of wonder has any clean clothes in
it?”
“It’s in the bedroom.”
“Of course it is.”
Sam padded to the bedroom. He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a pair of jeans
and a t-shirt. The shirt hung on him, and the jeans were a bit loose, but not bad overall. They
were probably Cheney’s. He imagined that Jude’s cock had filled these same jeans. Sam’s balls
tingled. He counted to fifty and thought about taking up arctic swimming.
Sam went back to the kitchen corner of the living room. Cheney served up the last of the
pancakes on a plate. He reached the countertop beside him and handed Sam a cup of coffee,
creamed and sugared the way he liked it.
Sam took a cautious sip. “How did you know?” He held up his cup as though there was a
question about what he meant.
“I’ve been tailing you for a week. You go to fancy coffee houses, but always get the
regular, cream, two sugars.”
“Thanks.” A week? Sam carried his plate to the living room, following Cheney’s lead.
“So can we talk about this now?”
“Ask.” Jude sat on the couch.
Sam took the only chair in the room. “Why am I here? Why did you abduct me from my
job and haul me to the FBI office? What is it that you think I can help you with?”
“Figured that’s what you wanted to know.” Cheney swept a three-layered bite of
pancakes into his mouth. A drop of syrup fell like a tantalizing jewel on his bottom lip. The tip of
his tongue darted out and cleaned it off.
Sam waited for the answers.
“How long have you worked at Landel and Bindette?”
“Six years. Since I graduated college.”
“When did you start with Gregg Christiansen?” Cheney asked referring to the
photographer Sam worked for part time.
“Almost a year ago, when I realized that not having a salary increase at L&B proved a
little too challenging for my budget.”
“Were you recommended?”
“To Gregg? Yeah, a friend of mine I went to college with told me about the job over
beers one night. I called the next day and had a job.”
Cheney took a long draw from his coffee mug, watching Sam over the rim. Finally,
Cheney put it down. “What did you do for him?”
“I cleaned up his studio at night and delivered photos.” Sam leaned forward. “You’ve
been following me for a week. You know all this, don’t you?”
Yeah, he did know. He still had to ask to see if Sam would lie to him about any of it. Jude
ignored Sam’s question.
“When did you quit dating him?” Jude asked quietly.
Sam poked at a piece of bacon then gave a half shrug. “What makes you think we dated?”
“Gregg touches you.”
“People touch.”
“He’s familiar. He likes being in your personal space and when you two talk, his eyes
dart in a triangular motion between eyes and lips. That’s an unconscious sign of intimacy.”
“Friends do that too,” Sam argued.
“Friends generally don’t bury their hands in friends' hair or stare at each other’s lips,”
Jude countered. He didn’t like how saying that made him feel.
“I don’t do that.”
“He does.”
Sam gave him a curious look, like he was at loss for words or just dumbfounded.
Replaying the conversation in his head, Jude realized it had come out sounding a whole lot more
like a jealous accusation than an informational interview.
“So you dated and broke up. Did he ever ask you to do anything for his business that
made you uncomfortable?” Jude asked.
Sam’s eyes danced. He smiled. “And by business, you mean photography, not what’s
hiding in his Levi’s?”
The question caught Jude off-guard. “Uh, yes, photography.”
“No.” Sam seemed inordinately pleased with himself. He popped the piece of bacon he’d
been poking at into his mouth. He crunched at it, smile in place.
“How did you deliver the photos?”
“I drove them to wherever I was told to go. Sometimes it was a drop-box mail slot.
Sometimes I delivered the photos to the client. I typically have three or four stops a night. Pretty
easy job, really. Is that why I’m here? This has to do with Gregg?”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Wednesday night. He told me he would need me to work extra hours on Monday and
Tuesday.”
“Gregg is missing.”
“Oh, shit. Missing? When?” Sam’s breakfast was forgotten.
“Sometime Saturday morning. The tail we had on him was shot. He was able to send out
a call. When we got there, Gregg’s equipment had been smashed up, and there were signs of
struggle.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed and glazed over as though he were thinking back.
“Do you know who might be upset with him?” Jude asked gently.
“No. He was just a photographer.”
Jude scooted to the edge of the couch. He reached across and laid a hand on Sam’s wrist
awkwardly trying to comfort him. “Your home address was in his open agenda. We found
listening devises—not ours—in your loft. We think they were coming for you next.”
“Why? I deliver pictures to supplement my income.”
“We think you may have seen something, or delivered something, that you weren’t
supposed to see. We think Gregg might have screwed up badly enough that it implicated you.”
Sam stared blankly at Jude’s hand on his arm. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”
Jude took back his hand. Sam’s blue-eyed gaze seemed to pierce Jude’s. “I’m very good
at my job.”
“I mean breaking bad news.”
“Whoever was after Gregg won’t find you here. We’re trailing our leads, and when we
catch up to them, we’ll need you to back up our evidence.” Jude cleared his throat clamoring for
distance from those all-seeing, blue eyes.
“What is it I’m supposed to back up?”
“We’ll ask you for an identification. We might need a detailed account of what service
you were asked to perform or what you saw when you delivered the photos for Gregg.”
“You don’t know?” Sam asked incredulously.
Jude smiled. He knew a lot. He knew where the negatives were, and he knew the pattern
for a series of hits made on strategic public figures in the oil industry. The fact that every target
had been through New York had been an especially big boost in the case. Between that
information and finding the connection to Gregg, there’d been a host of months’ worth of
research.
It was down to the wire. They’d found the link and in watching him, they’d found Sam
Bahlson. What Jude hadn’t told Sam was that the FBI had already intercepted a hit on him over
the weekend. Whoever the lead boss was worked fast.
Gregg had been the missing middleman in the case. Finding that he had a delivery guy,
Sam Bahlson, and that Sam could have information on the case, the FBI were close to finding the
ringleader in the investigation. So close. Unfortunately, Gregg was missing. That left Sam to fill
in the blanks and Sam had no idea what he knew, or what part of it was important to the
extensive case Jude had been working on.
He couldn’t lose Sam. Sam was important to the case. Important enough that confusing
the boundaries between Jude’s job and Sam’s pretty blue eyes was unthinkable.
So it would be fantastic if Sam quit looking at him for answers he couldn’t give. The less
information Jude gave him, the purer Sam’s story would be.
To distract himself, Jude took another sip of coffee.
Sam cocked his head and pursed his beautiful lips. “Just out of curiosity, what does it
mean when someone you don’t have a relationship with triangulates his gaze between eyes and
lips?”
Jude swallowed the hot bitter beverage with some difficulty. “Why do you ask?”
Sam looked at him pointedly, lifting an eyebrow.
To Jude’s annoyance, his neck warmed. He hadn’t blushed in years. He wasn’t going to
start now. Jude held his gaze steadily.
Sam had been bluffing, but the look on Jude’s face and the way he suddenly jumped to
his feet, taking his plate to the kitchenette told Sam he’d actually hit on something.
Sam picked up his plate too and followed. “Wait, so you’re attracted to me?” He laughed.
“Wow, talk about a shot in the dark.”
Jude shot him a look of annoyance. He muttered something under his breath as he rinsed
off his plate, then squeezed dish soap onto a sponge. “This is what you find important? Someone
might be trying to kill you and you want to discuss this?”
Sam scraped off his plate. He poured them both another cup of coffee and began
collecting the used cooking implements. He shrugged. “Yeah, kind of. Beats thinking about
death. Besides, you started it with that question about dating Gregg. Was that supposed to sound
like part of the investigation?”
“Maybe,” Jude muttered defensively. He whipped the towel off his shoulder and handed
it to Sam. Sam dried the cleaned dishes. Jude’s cell phone chirped. He turned off the faucet and
picked up the phone. Depressing a button, he held it to his mouth like a walkie-talkie. “Yeah.”
“We have an approaching vehicle,” the man on the other end said.
Jude tensed. “How far?”
“Turning in as we speak.”
“Shit,” Jude grumbled.
“Bad news?” Same asked. He tried to sound casual. He felt anything but.
“We’ve got company,” Jude told him.
Jude snagged a key off a wall hook and slipped it into his pocket. He left Sam standing in
the kitchen holding a dirty spatula. Jude rushed to the bedroom, talking into the cell phone’s
walkie feature.
“Why are we hurrying?” Sam called. “It took us a day of walking through dense forest to
get here. We have time, don’t we?”
He was looking for reassurance more than anything. Jude didn’t give it.
“Yeah, about that—we’re only parked a couple of miles from here, “ Jude replied as he
came back into the room. “We walked in circles and zigzags to keep them off our trail.”
Sam’s ears roared. Hours of walking in circles. All that wasted time. Jude’s words finally
seemed to gel in his mind. Someone was after him. Someone had put a hit out on him. Gregg was
missing.
“Well, it didn’t fucking work!” Sam suddenly blurted. “We’ve been here a handful of
hours, and they’re already here?” he yelled, feeling his blood pressure skyrocket.
“And there’s the panic I was expecting back at the office.”
“I didn’t know I was being followed then. Hurry up, I don’t want to die today.”
Jude flashed a dry smile. “I wasn’t intending to let you.”
“What do we do? How do we get out of here?”
Jude hefted the duffel bag to his shoulder. He calmly faced Sam. “Get a grip. I need you
to stay calm and do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”
“But. They’re. Trying. To. Kill. Me. And they’re here,” Sam snapped.
“Hey, Sam, I appreciate that your fight or flight instincts have finally kicked into gear
after,” Jude blew out a breath as though casually weighing his thoughts. “An impressive delay,
but freaking out isn’t going to slow them down. On the contrary, it’ll only slow you down.”
“So will hanging out here doing nothing while you lecture me,” he complained.
Jude closed the distance. He dropped a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You need to
calm down.”
“I’m calm!”
Jude sighed. “We don’t have time for this.”
He swung his free hand at Sam’s head. Sam blocked it. “What the fuck?”
“You’re hysterical.”
“You’re a jackass.”
Jude’s lips tightened. Sam didn’t get the chance to contemplate whether it was in
determination or annoyance. Jude’s hand lifted from his shoulder and fisted the hair at the back
of Sam’s head. Jude dragged him forward.
Sam lurched. He’d expected the slap across the face and had moved to stop it. He’d had
no preparation for the hard, hot kiss that narrowed his senses like no amount of shaking could.
Chapter Three
Sam’s head spun dizzily. His surprise was muffled by a pair of silken, heated lips gliding
over his. Jude’s mouth had settled perfectly on Sam’s. Sam steadied himself with a hand to
Jude’s chest. His fingers curled into Jude’s shirt.
Any hope Sam had of keeping his wits about him went out the window. His eyes sealed,
and he lost himself in the moment, leaning into Jude, kissing him back. Jude made a deep purring
sound, and that’s when Sam knew he had him.
Sam flicked his tongue to touch the spot where syrup had dripped on Jude’s mouth
earlier. Jude abruptly broke off, taking a step back.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Jude swore. His eyes widened. His demeanor changed in an instant.
“Let’s go.”
Hit men. Like a bucket of cold water spilling over his head, everything else lost its
importance as he inwardly shivered over the reality he faced. Without argument, he hurriedly
pulled on his shoes.
Jude waited by the door. “C’mon, c’mon,” he urged.
Sam raced to his side. He and Jude ran from the cabin. Sam tried to keep up, running
away from the direction they’d arrived and around the back. He jumped a fallen tree, nearly lost
his balance as he came down on rocks.
Jude looked back over his shoulder. “A hundred yards.”
Sam didn’t need to ask. They had a hundred yards to go and the sound of water had
grown louder as they ran. They reached a small wooden hut, hugging the ground. Jude pulled out
a key and unlocked it. He dragged a canoe onto the water, holding it steady for Sam.
Sam tripped, soaking his shoes, but managed to get in and pick up the oars. He stayed
hunkered over as though he could hide in the low-walled boat filled with army green bags.
Jude crouched by the boat, his eyes constantly scanning the banks and woods. Once Sam
situated, Jude handed him the duffel, then pushed the boat into the river and leaped in with one
seamless move. Sam handed him the oars.
“What is all this?” Sam spoke barely over the sound of rushing water as Jude expertly
directed them through the water.
“Camping equipment.”
Bears, bugs, and dirt. This was turning out to be one helluva weekend. There was no
talking over the sound of water. Jude steered them along branching forks, taking them what had
to be deeper and deeper into the woods. There’d been no sign of habitation along their path and
Sam began to wonder if they were in the middle of a national park. Were they even in the same
State?
His shoes sucked wetly at his feet. Sam pulled them off, then took off his socks and put
the shoes back on. It felt a little better, but it was small comfort. Whoever was after him was
serious about finding him if they’d been trailed all the way to the cabin.
He’d been searching his mind for any clue to what he’d seen that he shouldn’t. How far
back did it go? The whole year? The last week? What time of reference were they thinking of?
He’d said they’d need him to confirm information or identify people. Didn’t that mean
the FBI already had a suspect in mind? That would make this witness protection, right? So if
they knew who the suspect was, why couldn’t they keep him from killing Sam without dunking
him into the river?
Jude maneuvered the canoe to the river’s edge. They’d stopped a couple of times to go to
the bathroom and dig out fresh water from the canoe bags, but this time felt different.
Sam got out with him and together they pulled the vessel to land.
“We’re stopping here tonight. I need to build camp and call for an alternate location.
We’re far enough away to buy us some time, even if they figure out that we went to water,” Jude
told him.
“I’m in witness protection, aren’t I?” Sam put to words the question that had been
plaguing him all afternoon.
Jude paused in emptying the green bags. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just say that? What is it about you fucking feds and your secrets? This is
my life you’re fucking around with. The very least I deserve is the full story.”
Sam was pissed. He stormed into the woods, needing to get away from the half truths,
and distracting appeal of the man with all the answers. He didn’t want to be attracted to Jude,
especially now. There couldn’t be worse timing, but he especially didn’t want to be attracted to
someone who wasn’t going to be honest with him.
He heard footsteps behind him. Sam sped up.
Jude grabbed his arm, “Wait.”
Sam yanked it back and took off at a run.
Jude wrapped a thick forearm around his waist and hauled Sam up against his side. “Stop.
Whatever your issue is, I’m still trying to protect your life.”
“Whatever my issue is?” Sam bit out. He shoved Jude away from him. “Are you serious?
You and your goons abduct me, throw me into a cabin after running me into the ground—which
we now know was completely pointless—relocate me to a tiny boat, toss me in a river, and
neglect to inform me that I have professional killers lining up to put a bullet in my brain.”
“It was on a—”
“Don’t you dare say, need to know basis! Don’t you fucking dare.” Sam seethed. “And
what was that kiss this morning? Do they teach that distraction techniques in the FBI too? Is that
The School of Get Smart?”
Jude had the nerve to crack a smile. He quickly swallowed it. It was a good thing because
Sam had been about ready to rip those sexy lips right off his face.
“No,” Jude answered instead. “But it worked.”
Jude took a step toward him.
“Back off,” Sam warned.
Jude stopped, holding up his hands in front of him like he was offering up a surrender.
“Let’s get back to the site.”
“You go back. I’m not ready to play house over a campfire yet.”
Sam narrowed his eyes on Jude. It looked like he was trying not to laugh again.
“I can’t leave without you. Please come back with me.”
“What else don’t I know?” Sam countered.
“You’re asking me to tell you information that could color the investigation.”
“I’m asking you,” Sam snapped, “to tell me pertinent details to sustain my current status
as a living being. Oh, my God. If you fucking smile, I’ll make sure it’s your last for a while.”
“I’m not smiling.” Jude’s eyes continued to dance with humor. “This is a very serious
situation.”
“Damn right it is.”
Jude took another step closer. It made staying angry at him difficult.
“Can you just,” Sam motioned away, “back up a little?”
“Why?” Jude asked, his voice dropping low.
“You know why.”
“Explain it to me.”
Sam didn’t feel like playing. He pushed passed Jude to keep walking. He heard Jude
follow, but this time Jude kept his distance. Until it became comical. He stopped after several
more minutes.
“Are you going to keep following me?” Sam asked.
“Yep.”
With a sigh, Sam faced him. “Can I just have a few minutes alone?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
So all the control remained firmly in Jude’s hands. Hell, no, that’s not how Sam did
things. He might not have any say in where they go, how long they stay, what Jude had to tell
him, but he did have control over one thing, and he knew even relentless Jude was susceptible.
Sam charged toward him. He got right in Jude’s face, deliberately invading his personal space. It
was a petty battle of wills, but it was all Sam had and damn it, Jude made him hot.
Sam grabbed Jude’s cotton shirt and tugged him closer still. Lifting his chin the short
inch to line their lips, Sam kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted the other man’s mouth
meticulously, savoring the fullness of his lips and the tangy sweet flavor behind them when their
tongues touched.
Jude gripped Sam’s shoulders. A swallowed moan from Jude made Sam smile. A familiar
spinning muzzied his head with delicious heat. Kissing Jude Cheney was like drinking potent
wine—flavorful, full-bodied, and mind-alteringly intoxicating.
Jude’s gut clenched. His cock hardened with each questing swipe of Sam’s tongue in his
mouth. Sam broke the kiss and pushed him against a nearby tree. Dazedly, he registered that Sam
was unbuckling his jeans and pushing the heavy fabric down his thighs as the piercing blue eyes
held him captive.
With a wicked smile, Sam sank to his knees. Jude blinked uncomprehendingly. Of all
he’d expected from Sam—from his job, from the act of fleeing for their lives—this wasn’t one of
the moments he’d envisioned.
Hot, wet mouth closed on the tip of his cock, and Jude’s confusion fizzled beneath the
heat of Sam’s welcome sexual onslaught. Jude’s head rocked back on his shoulders, resting
against rough bark. His balls lifted, cuddled in Sam’s hand as the other hand fisted the base of
Jude’s shaft. Sam’s tongue dipped into the hole at the tip of Jude’s cock and Jude couldn’t keep
from touching him.
Jude laced his fingers in Sam’s spiky, preppy hair. He imagined that gorgeous pouting
mouth wrapped around his shaft, and he had to see. He cracked his eyes open. Sam looked up at
him unflinchingly, stealing Jude’s whole attention.
The hot little prep sucked Jude’s cock like he was born for it. Behind his closed, ringed
lips, a playful tongue danced over the rim of his head and tasted the pre-cum leaking from the
tip. Sam’s thumb stroked forcefully into Jude’s scrotum, rolling his balls and setting off a riot of
lightning-like sensations.
Jude’s breath shuddered in his chest as Sam came off his cock and licked his lips. He
pressed a kiss to the tip, dragged his tongue over the palm of his hand and pumped his fist on
Jude’s length.
“I’m going to make you come,” Sam promised. “Right here in the middle of your
protective custody. This is me saying fuck you to FBI secrecy.”
The words slowly registered. Sam was using sex to teach him a lesson? Fuck that. He
tugged Sam’s hair. “Bullshit.”
Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this.”
Jude willed himself to say he didn’t. The words wouldn’t form.
Sam’s tongue licked Jude’s tip like a lollipop. “Fuck you, FBI.” He grazed his teeth on
the rim. “Fuck you, Agent Cheney.” He swallowed, taking Jude down his throat before coming
off again. “You wanted a kiss? You wanted me to follow orders?”
Jude watched the hypnotic way Sam’s mouth fucked the words he was using to seduce
him. Part of him thought the vibe was all wrong, so wrong. Part of him couldn’t wait to see what
Sam did next. Jude hadn’t been with a man in a long time. The job, the guys—it didn’t lend itself
to relationships or gay acceptance.
No one would see them here. No one would know except Sam, and Sam already knew
because of the kiss Jude hadn’t been able to help.
“Here’s an order, Agent Cheney. Come for me.”
Sam’s mouth closed on Jude’s cock. His cheeks hollowed, and he pulled off, then filled
as he took Jude deep. His blue-eyed gaze never wavered. Jude lost himself in the rubbing pinked
lips and swirling tongue, the challenge in Sam’s eyes and the, yes, the desire he saw there.
Sam rolled Jude’s balls, massaging behind them and running a teasing finger over his
anus in surprise caresses that kept Jude grasping for a hold on his senses. His hips flexed,
rocking into Sam’s sweet mouth.
Jude gasped for breath. Sam pushed up Jude’s shirt, raking his fingernails on Jude’s
abdomen and once again toppling his defenses. It was the hum of satisfaction vibrating along his
cock that caused Jude to give up his paltry attempts for self-control.
His head fell back as he gave himself over to Sam’s considerable talent. Jude couldn’t
stop his hips from rocking into Sam’s face, fucking his mouth. Groans tore from Jude’s chest.
His balls drew tight. Hot and cold shivered at the base of his spine. Another flicker over his anus
and Sam pushed the end of his finger inside.
Jude shouted, bucking hard, fingers pulling the hair on either side of Sam’s head as cum
raced up Jude’s shaft. It shot from him with stinging force. Sam clamped his mouth around the
base, swallowing hungrily.
Sam cleaned Jude’s spent cock. He looked up with a knowing smile. “Good boy, Agent
Cheney. Nice to see you follow directions.”
To his surprise, Sam got to his feet and walked toward the camp site, leaving Jude’s wet
dick hanging and its owner flushed and flustered against a tree with his knees still trembling.
* * * *
Sam took the baked beans from Jude.
“Just in case you didn’t get enough protein,” Jude grumbled.
Sam pointedly looked at Jude’s groin. “I know where to get more.”
“Store’s closed.”
“Want to test that?” Sam asked. A man didn’t respond that well to a blowjob and not
think about when the next one would happen.
Jude was back to shooting him dark glares like he had when they’d first met. Now Sam
knew enough to recognize that Jude’s brooding stemmed from being attracted to him and not
being happy about it.
That, Sam could handle. He took a big bite of beans.
Jude put another log on the fire. “We have a three-mile hike to a clearing west of here. A
chopper will take us to a new safe house.”
“Good to know.”
Sam used a branch to turn his shoe so that the fire could dry another angle. His socks
were draped over a rock. They were nearly done. He busied himself with the little things to keep
from thinking about sharing a tarp tent with Jude later tonight. Playing the seducer was easy in
the moment, but ignoring the chemistry between them and the fact that Sam really wanted to get
his hands on Jude’s cock again didn’t exactly make for easy sleeping.
“How did they find us?” Sam asked.
“We don’t know.”
“They agent who spotted them approaching didn’t catch them?”
“No,” Jude admitted. “He took a bullet for you though. Shattered his knee cap.”
Sam winced. It was all so surreal. He kept expecting someone to tell him this was the plot
of a movie of the week, but they kept getting hit with variables.
Jude met his gaze. “It kept the agent from following. He did radio in a description. The
cabin was searched. Nothing was touched. The tracks don’t even go to the cabin. They lead
directly to the boat lock.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means they knew where we were going. They anticipated our escape route.”
“How could they possibly do that?” Sam asked.
“They couldn’t without being told.”
“Someone told them where we’d go? Why?”
“Great question,” Jude said.
“With an answer, right? You’re going to tell me that you have an answer?”
Jude shook his head.
“I’m in a cop flick,” Sam announced. “I’m in a bad cop flick, complete with a mole.”
Jude looked at him a little uncertainly. “Are you going to flip out again?”
“Why, so you can kiss me?”
“Eat your dinner.” Jude got up, checked his gun, and slipped into the woods.
“A Cheney in the woods with a gun doesn’t reassure me!” Sam yelled after him.
Sam finished the last of his sandwich and beans. He chugged back some water, saving a
bit to brush his teeth with the travel brush thoughtfully packed by his abductor. Jude joined him
back at the camp as Sam was climbing under the low lean-to. The pine barrier between him and
the ground was surprisingly comfortable.
Jude banked the flames and climbed in beside him. His back bumped Sam’s, and Sam
really wanted to lean back against its strength, but he’d made such a point of showing he didn’t
trust the FBI, sinking against the comfort of one of its warriors seemed like too much of a
concession.
“Good night, Sam,” Jude murmured.
Sam closed his eyes. Despite all his objections, he did feel safer with Jude beside him.
* * * *
The next morning, Jude nudged him to wakefulness. “We gotta move.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
Sam had time to take a leak, pull on his dried shoes and pick up his water bottle. He’d
have to brush on the run since Jude had gotten up before him to break down the camp. There was
almost no sign that they’d stopped there for the night.
Jude tucked the army green bags into the upside-down canoe, then hid the canoe. Even
the duffle bag was ditched for the FBI cleanup crew to collect later. They reached the clearing in
an hour and a half, hanging out on the fringes of the forest until they heard the distinctive whop-
whop of the huge military chopper.
“Go!” Jude shouted, racing at Sam’s side across the clearing.
Popping gunfire came out of nowhere. Sam nearly stopped in confusion, but Jude
grabbed his elbow and steered him into the chopper. It lifted out of reach of the guns. Jude
looked out, searching the greenery below.
“I can’t see them.”
They flew through the air. Sam gripped his chair trying not to hurl. Jude sat down
heavily, hitting his fist on the side of the bird.
“How did they find us?” Jude shouted above the roar. His gaze settled on Sam. Jude
unbuckled and crouched over Sam. “Are you wearing jewelry? A watch?”
Sam took off his watch and handed it to him. Jude threw it out the open side of the
helicopter.
“Hey!”
“They found us. This isn’t the time for sentimentality,” Jude reminded him. “What else
are you wearing?”
There was nothing. Sam wasn’t even wearing his own clothes. Except for his shoes,
everything had come from Jude’s duffle bag. He shook his head to indicate there was nothing
else.
Jude’s gaze traveled over him. He had to be seeing the same thing Sam had. He stopped
at the shoes. The red canvas shoes with white soles. He motioned for Sam to hand them over.
“My shoes?” Sam protested.
“The only time they weren’t right on top of us was while those shoes were wet.”
Sam toed off the shoes. Jude took them, pulling a pocket knife from his jeans. Jude cut
into the sole, examining it carefully. He tossed the first shoe over and cut into the second one.
Behind the brand name on the sole, Jude stopped, a strange look coming over his face.
He held up the shoe, pulling back the label. Sam leaned in. A black circle the size of a
dime was slipped inside the rubber. Jude tossed the second shoe over the side.
“Do you have anything else?” Jude asked tightly.
Sam did another cursory search of himself. He shook his head. Everything else had come
from the bag. Jude nodded succinctly, turned and moved to stand between the two pilots. He
shouted something to one of the men that Sam couldn’t make out from here. When Jude got back
to his seat and buckled up, he sat somberly.
Brown and gold fields raced beneath them. He’d been tagged somehow. The killers had
been following him from the beginning. He’d be dead right now if it weren’t for Jude’s quick
thinking and skill. He’d given Jude nothing but hell, and Jude had served him up with a sense of
peace and safety in return.
They couldn’t follow him now. They wouldn’t find Sam this time. He’d be safe. It no
longer mattered why he’d been swept out of his life, just that he still had one because of the
FBI’s interference. Because of Jude’s interference.
The deafening roar of the blades tattooed its rhythm in his mind. The chase had taken its
toll, and Sam stopped fighting the droop of his eyelids.
Chapter Four
Jude relaxed when Sam finally drifted off. He’d noticed the way Sam’s face had paled
when he’d been shown the GPS tracking tag. But when Sam had stared out the open side of the
Huey, it had been shame in the pull of his mouth that had almost brought Jude out of his chair.
It hadn’t been Sam’s fault. None of it was his fault. His boss was the one that made the
contacts, photographed the targets, and sent them to the buyer. His boss had dragged him into it.
Sam had been innocent.
In the context of doing his job, Jude had come across a lot of slick witnesses. Sure there
were the ones who had genuinely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they usually
knew what they’d witnessed. Sam had no idea.
He’d be called on to verify the delivery, the address, and identify the people he’d seen
when delivering it. He didn’t know that they suspected Sam had seen one of the biggest
underground mobsters of their time, masquerading as an influential political representative. Until
now, the evidence against Paul Winston had been insubstantial. But Sam might be able to
provide an eye witness either to Paul’s right-hand man, or the mobster himself.
It was Jude’s job to protect his charges. This time, Jude was taking his job personally.
Sam was worth protecting, even pissed off and scared, Jude sensed that he and Sam would have
connected if they’d met outside the current case drama Hell, they had definitely connected. Jude
could still feel Sam’s mouth on him. He wanted to feel it again.
The chopper landed. A backup agent waved at them from the field beside an old sedan.
Jude had worked with him before. It would be good to have him there, maybe it would suppress
Jude’s desire to crawl into bed with Sam.
Sam’s head came up when they touched ground. He smiled sleepily at Jude. Jude felt it
like a punch to the gut. God, he wanted to kiss those lips again.
Jude unbelted and motioned for Sam to do the same. “That’s our ride,” he said pointing to
the waiting agent.
They raced across the field to the car. Sam got in the back. Jude claimed the front
passenger seat.
“Sam, this is Agent James. He’s going to stay with us until you’re needed,” Jude told
Sam.
“No, actually I won’t.”
Jude turned to his friend and fellow agent. Dread chilled the pit of his stomach. “What do
you mean you won’t?”
“I’m being called to watch a potential secondary witness. It’s a kid. She saw her parents
gunned down. They think it’s the same guy.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I’m here to set you up and help you hide. You two are on your own until relief
comes.”
Sam sat forward. “The same guy who kidnapped Gregg Christiansen and put a hit on
me?”
Agent James’ met his gaze in the rearview mirror. He nodded. “Same guy.”
A twisted sense of relief flooded Sam. It was horrible how the girl had become a witness,
but the fact that there was now another person for the FBI to make their case on, was good. He
still didn’t know what or who he’d seen. He wasn’t convinced that anything he said would help
their case against the killer. With evidence provided by another person, this girl, wouldn’t that
make it less likely for the mobster to get free?
But to lose your parents…it was heartbreaking.
“How old is she?” Sam asked.
“I’m sorry. That doesn’t concern you, Mr. Bahlson. When we need your input on the
case, you’ll be brought in. That’s all you need to be concerned with right now.” Agent James
reminded Sam a lot of Agent Cheney.
Sam sat back, thinking about a little girl being shuffled around rather like he’d been. If
the hit man knew he’d been spotted, knew he could be positively identified, didn’t that make her
a bigger target? Someone had thought it persistently important to kill Sam. What would they do
with the little girl? Was she safe?
He sat forward again, resting his forearms on the car seats in front. “She needs more than
one person watching her. Take Cheney with you. Leave me a gun to protect myself.”
Cheney turned around, a peculiar look in his eyes. “We can’t leave you unguarded.”
“What about this girl? I don’t know why this guy’s after me. She does. If they’d chase us
into the woods and tag my shoe, what are they going to do to her? She needs you. She needs any
agent she can get,” Sam reasoned earnestly.
“Sam,” Cheney began softly. “You’re just as important to this case. Agent James would
be assigned to you, but he’s being recalled to help with the other witness. She’s well guarded.”
“But she’s just a kid,” Sam argued. “She has her whole life in front of her, and her
parents have been brutally taken away. She needs more.”
Cheney’s gaze darted between Sam’s eyes. After a moment, he smiled gently. “She’ll be
okay. I promise.”
It was like Cheney had put a golden guarantee on those words for the instant relief Sam
felt. Sam sat back, feeling calmer.
“Remember that promise,” Sam told him.
Jude smiled and nodded. “I will.”
They drove another half hour before they reached a hobby farm set off the road a
distance. In the entire drive, they’d barely passed a dozen houses. Considering the roughly hewn
cabin and the night on hard ground, this little gingerbread fringed house looked like the Ritz.
Sam half expected there to be a happy, humming grandma making pies in the kitchen.
Agent James helped them carry bags into the house. “Food and necessities are stocked.
There are clothes for both of you in the suitcases.”
“How long are we going to be holed up here?” Sam asked.
Agent James shrugged, smiling pleasantly. “Maybe a couple of days. Maybe a week.”
“Maybe a year,” Jude tossed in.
“A year?” Sam repeated.
James and Cheney laughed.
James slapped Cheney on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up next time.”
“Yep,” Cheney agreed, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Wait, was that a joke? Is that the FBI’s version of humor? Because it isn’t funny,” Sam
complained.
Cheney and James both laughed that knowing laugh. Sam decided he hated that joke and
wished they’d strike it from their repertoires. The car stopped and the men got out. Another agent
stepped from the house giving the all clear. He headed for the car as James and Cheney led the
way to the front porch.
“The usual,” James said dropping his hands on his be-suited hips. “Headquarters will call
if there are changes. I’ll be here when things settle down with the girl and the other cases.”
Cheney must have acknowledged James because James started to leave.
“Give me a moment.” Cheney stopped him. Glancing back at Sam, Cheney then hooked
James’ arm and led him away from the house several steps.
Jude was out of hearing range, but he still turned his back to Sam, just in case the man
knew how to read lips. “Can you make it quick? Don’t take time off between jobs. As soon as
she’s okay, or another agent opens up, head back this way.”
“What’s the problem?” James asked, his brows lifting.
Jude dropped his chin, then glanced off into the distance. “This one is going to be
trouble.”
James laughed. When Cheney didn’t join in, he sobered quickly. “He’s a little sarcastic,
but he seems nice enough.”
“That’s not the problem,” Cheney said with some difficulty. “It’s the big, blue eyes and
clean-cut, prep look that are throwing me.”
He could see the minute James understood. James looked over his shoulder at Sam.
“That’s your type? Huh. Never would have guessed. He seems so—collegiate.”
“I’m not a cradle robber,” Cheney groused.
James grinned. “No, but for a guy who looks like he could scare the fuck out of a room
full of Harley men, he does seem a little fresh.”
“Shut up.”
“Just think. The two of you all alone, playing house.”
“Get back here quickly,” Jude told him roughly.
“You’re a big boy. Keep your pants on and your hands to yourself. Do you know if he
even plays pocket pool with other men?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, I am seriously going to hate missing this job. Remember. Hands to yourself.
Pretend he’s a pretty little girl, and it should be a cinch. And just in case, I’ll make sure to
include a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms in the grocery delivery tomorrow.”
“You’re a dick.”
“You wish. You just want to suck my big, hairy man-pole,” James teased familiarly.
“Fuck no. It’s stained with pussy,” Cheney countered, returning to an old joke.
James backed away and got in the car with the agent Cheney didn’t know. “I’d check in
with you, but that goes against protocol. You’ll have to let me read your love journal.”
“Fuck you,” Jude called as the car backed up and headed down the gravel drive. He was
laughing as he turned toward the house. The laughter died on his lips at the curious look Sam
wore. “I thought I told you to go inside.”
“Nope. You must’ve forgotten.”
“Damn,” Cheney muttered under his breath. “Barely two days, and I’m already going
soft.” He almost laughed. Soft was the last thing he’d qualify himself as around Sam. He reached
Sam leaning on the porch railing. “Did you need an invitation or wasn’t going inside made clear
to you?”
Sam shrugged. “I’m going. There’s no one around here anyway. Besides, your body
language changes when you talk to that guy.”
Jude held open the door. Sam walked inside.
“I’ve known him for years,” Jude explained.
“Yeah, that much was clear. What isn’t clear is why you two were talking about me, and
what made your buddy look like he needed to stick around.”
Jude blinked. “Do you read lips?”
“No. Should I learn?”
“No,” Jude answered emphatically.
“So you were talking about me.”
“You’re under my watch. Of course.”
“I see.” Sam didn’t look like he believed him. Cheney found out why. “You told him you
like me, didn’t you?”
“Jesus.” The bottom dropped out of Jude’s stomach.
“I figured. He looked like he wanted to shake some sense into you after he sized me up.”
“Stop talking.”
“He’s worried about you being alone with me.”
Jude whirled on him, backing him to the wall. “I said stop talking.”
Sam cocked his eyebrows over his pretty blue eyes. His lips kicked up into a smile, and
two small dimples bracketed the corners. God, he was fucking adorable.
“You’re worried you can’t stay professional,” Sam said as though hitting upon sudden
insight.
Panic tightened Jude’s chest. Fuck, how did Sam do that? How did he just look at
someone and know that kind of shit? It was like hanging out with a mind reader you wanted to
fuck, but didn’t want him to know you wanted to fuck.
“I took a lot of classes on body language, interpretation, and psychology. You’re a classic
read. Never play poker,” Sam recommended.
Cheney looked horrified as he straightened. Sam couldn’t help the exhilaration he felt in
knowing that the big, sexy agent had the hots for him, badly enough that he was worried about
keeping his professional distance. It had been a long time since a guy had caught Sam’s interest
the way Cheney did.
Sam grinned widely. He was pleased to see Cheney’s gaze drop to his lips. “What’s the
big deal, Cheney? Afraid your gun will misfire?”
“This line of conversation needs to stop.”
“Okay, but let me propose something first. We’re holed up in the middle of nowhere with
no one expected for what could be days. How about instead of endless hours playing cards and
fighting the sexual tension in this room, we cut to the chase?”
Cheney ran a hand over his buzz cut. The alarm in his eyes rivaled the undeniable interest
Sam saw there. Sam had never been particularly bold, but somehow running Cheney to ground
felt like the most fascinating fun he’d had in a long time. The attraction they both seemed to be
feeling apparently freaked Cheney out. It was as much of an upper hand as Sam was likely to get.
And damn if he didn’t want to get hands of any sort on Cheney.
“There is no chase,” Cheney countered.
“Sure. Okay. The kiss. My mouth on your cock. It’s all relative, right?”
Cheney started shaking his head and backing away. “This is a bad idea. You stay on your
side of my personal space, and I’ll stay on mine.”
Sam watched him walk away. “This is gonna be fun,” he said, too low for Cheney to
hear.
What better way to pass his mandatory leave of absence than to seduce the hell out of the
big bad FBI agent with all his muscles? The fact that Cheney, who appeared to be incredibly
competent in everything he did, got skittish around Sam made him smile. Sam couldn’t
remember the last time someone had been attracted to him and hadn’t wanted to follow through.
He was going to enjoy every minute of Cheney’s capitulation.
Chapter Five
Sam wiped the back of his hand across his brow. The quaint little farm house had stopped
being quaint the minute he’d realized there was no air conditioning. Man, did he miss his New
York apartment. The tiny space cooled off in nothing flat. It was day three of country
confinement, and Cheney had yet to break his resolve.
When Sam entered the room, Cheney was as emotionally available as a rock. Sam
glanced at the clock. It was a little after ten thirty in the morning and aside from folding laundry
and helping clean up, there was nothing else to do.
That’s what he told himself, anyway. The more Cheney resisted Sam’s attempts to
connect with him, the more Sam wanted him. He practically felt need crawling around under his
skin. It didn’t help that Cheney seemed just as dedicated to his job and country as he did to
resisting Sam. It was time to throw in the towel. Cheney was unbreakable.
He picked up a shirt, but thinking about the sweat stuck fabric made him shudder. That’s
how every day had ended, and he couldn’t bring himself to put it on. He refolded it and put it
away. When he got to the kitchen he poured himself a glass of iced tea. It felt amazing as it
tracked its chilled trail down his throat and spilled into his stomach.
Ice bumped his upper lip and nose as he tilted his head back to catch every last drop. He
captured a cube in his lips, sucked it and released. A dark sound by the door caught Sam’s
attention, and he turned to see Cheney frozen in place, lust etched into every line of his body.
It made a man wish he had more tea to drink. After three days of trying every trick in the
book to get Cheney to look at him, it had taken letting his guard down to make Cheney slip.
“Want some?” Sam asked, trying hard to keep the innuendo out of the question.
He picked up the pitcher and poured himself another drink. He took a second glass from
the shelf and filled it for Cheney. Cheney cautiously walked over. Sam lifted his glass, too
conscious of his earlier abandon and Cheney’s reaction, to drink freely.
Cheney took the offered glass. Sam walked toward the screen door, looking out into the
back yard. Sam’s bravado had flagged. He knew the man was interested in him, but the job was
important to both of them. The longer Cheney kept his head around Sam’s juvenile attempts to
attract him, the less Sam was sure he could convince him to take a chance.
Besides, it was a hit to his ego. It wasn’t like he considered himself a great catch or
anything, but he was a gay man, living with another gay man, and they happened to be attracted
to each other. It seemed like a no brainer. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Cheney was thinking
with the appropriate head.
It embarrassed Sam a little that he’d made a game out of it. Sure, it was partly denial of
the circumstances and the death threats, but it was also partly for comfort. He needed to be held.
He needed to know that the sexy hunk of an agent didn’t just want to protect him for the
paycheck, but because he actually liked Sam. That Sam was worth protecting for reasons not
having anything to do with the job.
God, he sounded like a love-sick kid. Psychologists had a name for someone who fell in
love with their abductor. Did they have one for someone who fell for their protector? Not that
love is what Sam felt. Not this soon. That kind of thing happened in movies and books, but not in
real life. Not when death was on the table. Not when the guy you wished would strip you naked
and take you hard did a fantastic impression of a bronze statue.
Sam folded an arm across his chest. He hadn’t heard Cheney leave, but the man was
silent, and there’d been no conversation, so Sam assumed he had. He lifted the cool glass to his
cheek, then pressed the condensation covered exterior to his jaw. He tilted his head, sliding the
glass down to his neck. The cold wet trail offered some relief as a breeze touched over it.
Sam closed his eyes, sighing. His skin stung with heat. He faced the back of the house
and cooler fingers of air caressed his bare chest. At his back, a trickle of sweat, or condensation,
tickled his spine. It was like he had a furnace behind him.
He took a long draw of cold tea, sputtering when warm lips grazed the side of his neck,
replacing condensation with quick flicks of tongue. Sam inhaled sharply, riveted to his spot. He
feared he only imagined Cheney’s mouth on him. His knees were jelly. His hand shook as he
gripped his glass, the cool liquid completely forgotten for the heated trace of lips and tongue on
his skin.
Cheney murmured, his breath making a mockery of the hot summer sun’s scorching
insult on the land. The terrain of Sam’s body, however, craved more. Sam had tried every
persuasive move in his power to train Cheney’s attention on him. He’d only succeeded when he
quit trying. Now Sam stood unsteady and uncertain. How did he keep it? If he moved, would
Cheney stop?
A hot callused palm slid up Sam’s left arm. Cool air and hot touch made him shiver.
Sam’s senses rioted. What would it feel like to have that roughened palm caress his cock?
Cheney traced the back center of Sam’s neck with his tongue. Sam swayed unsteadily.
His back touched firm chest. Undressed firm chest. Evidently like everything else he did, Cheney
undressed silently too. Oh yeah, because making the point of removing any of his clothing before
coming to Sam could only mean one thing. That’s what it meant, right? If he turned, Cheney
wouldn’t stop. God, Sam really hoped he was right.
He started to turn. Cheney stopped him. Jude stopped him. Would he mind if Sam called
him Jude? Would it presume too much intimacy? But the kissing, dear Lord, it had to continue.
Sam tilted his head to the side presenting Cheney with more space to work his magic.
When Jude didn’t move away, Sam leaned back fully, letting the other man support his smaller
weight. Jude’s hands slid around Sam’s middle, gently stroking his chest and abdomen. It was
ticklish and not nearly low enough to keep Sam happy for long. He wanted Jude’s hands
everywhere.
Sam muttered his protest at the near strokes that did more to tease than satisfy. Maybe
that was the point. Maybe Jude was giving him some of his own medicine. Jude’s lips clamped
on Sam’s ear, sucking it hard against his tongue. Sam’s protest became a guttural moan. Jude
chuckled low and deep, setting off the quivering butterflies at Sam’s middle.
Long tanned fingers plucked at Sam’s nipple and any thought of waiting Jude out fled.
Sam squirmed until he’d wriggled his way to facing Jude. Then lifting his chin he caught Jude’s
lips in a firm kiss, sucking his bottom lip and lightly scraping it with his teeth.
Jude yelped, leaping away. Sam stared at him in confusion until Jude laughingly grabbed
Sam’s glass of tea and quickly put it on the nearby kitchen table.
“I don’t mind ice play, but a warning is generally preferred,” Jude explained.
Sam grinned. “C’mon, you know you wanted it.”
Jude’s expression turned serious, shifting smoothly. “I want you.”
The breath whooshed out of Sam’s lungs. “Well, thank God for small miracles.”
“This never happened,” Jude told him.
Sam ran his hands up Jude’s sides, enjoying the warm rises and dips of flesh over ribs
and muscle. They’d deal with that statement later. Right now, he wanted more of this, however
much Jude was going to offer.
Jude reached between them, tugged on Sam’s belt briefly tightening it before the whole
thing loosened. Their eyes met. Jude’s lips were slightly parted, and Sam discovered that his sex-
face looked a helluva lot like his pissed-face. Which was kind of a turn on all by itself. With that
expression, Sam didn’t know if he was about to get fucked or spanked, and it got his pulse racing
with the myriad possibilities. If he was lucky, maybe there’d be a little of both, all the while Jude
glaring down at him like he was a bad, bad boy. God, yes.
Sam felt the undeniable flip of a thumb over his button closure and the waistband relaxed.
Jude’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. They looked at each other, which was ridiculous since all
Sam wanted to do was press his lips to every inch of Jude’s beautiful body. But Jude was slightly
taller and unless he tipped his head down, Sam would look a little pathetic stretching his lips up,
or worse, climbing him to claim lip-lock pay-dirt. So he waited for cues from Jude instead.
Jude’s pissed looked turned slightly amused. It was that same heady glare, but now it had
attitude, like he was pissed and enjoying every minute of it. Sam’s cock, already at attention,
strained in his jeans to see just how much Jude liked it.
“Well?” Sam prompted. “You wimping out or gonna see this thing through?”
Jude tugged. Sam’s belt slid free. Sam was spun around and Jude belted his wrists behind
him. That’s not what Sam had in mind.
“What the fuck, Jude?”
“I wondered when you’d stop calling me Cheney. Two kisses and a blowjob is apparently
your price for familiarity.”
The belt tightened, pinching the softer skin of Sam’s wrists.
Jude almost didn’t know what to do with Sam. He’d never met a man who could so easily
turn his best intentions into a haze of lust. But that’s what Sam did to him. Any time Sam
touched him, all he could think about was how fast he could get Sam naked and on his back.
Belting his wrists had seemed the only sane idea at the time. Anything, so long as he could slow
down long enough to think clearly.
He tugged the belt, leading Sam away from the door and toward the side of the house
where Jude’s room was. Pushing him ahead, he had the perfect opportunity to watch the way
Sam’s body moved.
He was muscled in a leanly athletic way. Half dressed, it was even more apparent. Sam
was hard all over, not an inch of softness about him, but he carried his athleticism like a
swimmer. Watching that lithe walk, the oblique muscles flexing above his waistband on each
step, the way the button in his jeans seemed to sway low across his flat abdomen, just about did
Jude in.
Sam stumbled ahead of him. “You aren’t going to buy me flowers first?”
“That would be acknowledging that something’s happening here,” Jude said.
“Right. We can’t have that.” Sam’s fingers stretched behind him, grazing Jude’s crotch.
Jude grunted, but he extended the distance between them, carefully pushing Sam ahead.
The man was a cock-tease without trying.
Sam drinking tea had been a perfect example. When had something as mundane as
drinking become sexy? But he’d thrown his head back, closed his eyes, and swallowed, his throat
working over the cool fluid. A single drop had fallen and splashed on his chest. That had be the
moment Jude knew he was lost. And the best part had been that Sam had no idea Jude was
watching. There’d been nothing contrived about the moment. Nothing deliberately entrapping.
When he’d gone to the door, the light perfectly outlined his form. The cold glass on his
neck had Jude’s feet moving before he’d even consciously acknowledged the urge to move. He’d
wanted to touch, to feel, to taste.
Sam hadn’t stopped him. Sam had touched back, instead.
Jude nudged him into the room.
Sam stopped walking, bracing himself with his feet at shoulder width apart. One foot
slightly in front of the other, kept him from budging with the next gently nudge from Jude. “I’m
all for role play, but you want to explain the belt around my wrists and the studious attempt at
not talking?”
“Not really.”
“Humor me.”
Jude caught his upper arms and pulled Sam back against his chest. This time when Sam
held Jude’s cock, Jude didn’t move away. He flexed against the awkward hold. Jude wrapped his
arms around Sam, stroking over his chest like he had in the kitchen but with firmer contact. He
pressed his palms flat to Sam’s belly and arrowed his hands downward. There was no button
closure to stop his progress and the zipper put up little resistance.
Sam’s head fell back on Jude’s shoulder. Jude’s fingers found the hip flexors and gently
massaged either side of Sam’s cock. Sam rocked forward. Jude tipped his head to the side and
nipped the man’s neck. He quickly soothed the spot with a flick of his tongue and was
encouraged when Sam shuddered with pleasure.
Jude slipped one hand lower, cupping Sam’s balls as he took a long slow sweep of his
cock with the other.
Sam swore softly.
“Let’s keep your hands restrained for a while, shall we?” Jude murmured.
Sam didn’t offer up any protest. Jude walked him to the bed. He’d have to remember to
thank James for the condoms and lube. He should have known James wasn’t joking about the
grocery delivery.
Jude pulled his hands out of Sam’s jeans and bent him over the bed. He reached for the
condoms and lube in the drawer.
“Geez, you came prepared?” Sam grumbled.
“Not exactly.” Jude yanked Sam’s pants down and undid his own pants to roll on a
condom, before he picked up the lube.
Jude studied Sam’s tight, slim ass. He slapped it roughly, squeezing a cheek. “I’ll feed
you my cock later. Lots of great protein in that.”
Sam laughed, albeit reluctantly. Jude tried to ignore how his rough behavior must look.
Jude probably seemed cold and purely about sex. That was fine. That was better than the
alternative, which was he didn’t think he could have Sam’s hands on him and keep his heart out
of fucking. Jude had pretty well convinced himself that screwing Sam would cure him of his
temporary in-Sam-nity.
Even if it made Jude look like a dick in the process.
Sam’s rounded, pale ass beckoned. Sam spread his legs further apart, showing off the
bare pink testicles below his puckered hole. He was hard, despite the jackassery that Jude
showed. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
Jude smoothed his hand over the muscled curve, his fingers glided to the place where ass
met thigh. Then reaching forward, he cupped the sweet, full balls, unbelievably smooth and soft
in his palm. Sam moaned, his ass flexed. Jude applied the gel and worked his fingers in and out
of the grasping hole.
On each outward slide, Jude popped the sensitive muscle ring, teasing it and stretching it.
Judging from the way Sam squirmed, he liked the play. Sam pushed his hips back into Jude’s
working fingers, effectively working his balls against Jude’s palm simultaneously. Sam might
have his hands bound together, but he knew how to move for his greatest satisfaction.
Jude leaned down and nipped Sam’s ass. Sam stiffened but moaned when Jude then
planted wet sucking kisses to the same spot. Sam reached bound hands toward Jude’s groin but
Jude held himself back. First he wanted—no, he needed—to take Sam’s balls in his mouth. They
were perfect, pretty, and plump like ripe fruit. This fruit would tremble from its branch just as
readily. Jude’s mouth watered.
He got down on his knees behind the other man. Then firmly holding the globes of Sam’s
bottom open, Jude nosed in deep. He dragged his tongue along the central seam of Sam’s
testicles. Sam squirmed backward.
“Geez, Jude,” Sam stuttered over the words.
Jude curled his tongue out, capturing the pink orbs and drew them into his mouth. He
suckled gently, stroking each interior gland with great care. Sam smelled like earth and ocean
and the heady musk of testosterone.
Sam’s legs trembled, and he swore under his breath. “Goddamn it, Jude.”
Jude hummed around the wicked smile he got from driving the other man a little bit
crazy. He dragged his nails lightly up the back of Sam’s thighs. He didn’t miss the intense red
blush of Sam’s shaft, or the increasing sharpness of Sam’s aroma. Jude tested his theory and was
pleased to find pre-cum leaking from Sam’s tip.
He smoothed it over the head and was rewarded with a choked whimper. Jude chuckled,
slowly pulling off the mouthful of tender flesh to nip the inside of both Sam’s thighs. There
wasn’t a part of the man that Jude didn’t want to taste. When had he become so orally fixated?
Jude stood. He slapped Sam’s ass, striking it with a solid smack. Sam sucked in his
breath sharply and made a sound of protest, but that was the only complaint. The rest of his body
practically quivered with need. Experimentally, Jude slapped his other cheek too. He’d never
struck another man in sex play before. He kind of liked the building tension between them, and
Sam seemed to hiss with a combination of indignation and pleasure. Jude doubted Sam had ever
been struck like this before either. They seemed to be processing it together.
Jude stroked the pinkened cheeks then struck them several more times until Sam cried
out.
“Fucking take me already,” Sam gasped.
Jude soothed the abused flesh. It was dark and dusky like Sam’s balls. Jude liked the look
on him. Sam moaned, pushing into the gentle caress.
“Jude. Please, I need—more.”
Jude positioned himself behind the slightly smaller man, pushing his cock in until the rim
snagged just inside Sam’s tight anus. “Hard and fast, or slow and sweet?” he asked, his voice
sounding rough with his own hunger.
Sam bucked slamming his hips backward onto Jude’s cock. Jude didn’t even try to hold
back the groan that ripped from his throat as lust seized him. He clamped his hands on Sam’s
hips, hanging on as they both adjusted. Sam to the invasion of cock in his tight ass, Jude to the
insane heat that enveloped him and swallowed his dick whole.
Cold sweat broke out on Jude’s brow. How had fucking Sam been a good idea again? His
mind snapped shut hearing Sam’s soft pants and concentrated on the careful control Jude took to
keep his lust in check.
“Take my cock,” Sam pleaded.
Jude wrapped a hand around the silken length. He’d bet Sam’s dick looked as pretty as
the rest of him. Jude may as well give up now. Part of him already knew he’d never find another
man as perfect as this one. Physically, he was a perfect specimen. He was everything Jude liked
and more. Emotionally, he wasn’t a push over, which was something Jude respected. He liked
that Sam questioned him, challenged him, taunted him, hell he even liked that Sam complained
about him. Little fucker.
Jude swept his fist up Sam’s cock, thumbed the wet tip, then returned to the base of his
shaft. Sam couldn’t help but move. Jude pulled part of the way out of Sam’s furnace heat. He
sank back in, closing his eyes on the sensation. Pleasure coiled about the base of his spine,
folding in on itself as he continued to jack Sam off while taking him from behind. He pulled in
rhythm with his flexing hips, mimicking the motion fluidly.
Sam suddenly thrusted back. It jarred Jude, causing him to miss a stroke, but Sam didn’t
seem to mind. He pushed into Jude’s thrusts, making their balls swing and bounce. Jude’s eyes
rolled up, his mouth fell open as he pounded Sam’s ass with everything he had.
“Harder,” Sam insisted.
“Hard as I can.”
Sam’s useless hands clawed at Jude’s abdomen as though he could somehow pull Jude to
him at a faster pace than he already took. But Sam needed something, and Jude wanted to give it
to him. Jude gripped Sam’s hip tighter, his fingers pinching around the hip bone. He released
Sam’s cock. Pulling out, Jude swatted the ass he’d rather be buried in, cracking the flat of his
hand against the satiny skin.
Sam cried out, braced himself for another. Jude didn’t disappoint him. He liked the sting
against his hand. He liked better the rosy glow of his lover’s bottom. He spanked him again and
again. Sam sobbed desperately, wordlessly. His body grew more and more taut, yet he held
himself for whatever Jude would give him.
Jude sank to his knees a second time, laving his tongue over Sam’s heated flesh. Soothing
it as the moisture cooled. Jude liked the heat on his tongue, and he repeated the slow, sucking
bath. He took hold of Sam’s shaft and pumped him.
Sam shivered, his fingers twisting into Jude’s hair where they could reach, tugging him.
Jude scraped his teeth on him and blew over it. Sam’s strangled cry became a shout as he madly
fucked Jude’s fist. Jets of cum spilled from Sam’s cock. Jude milked him dry, rose behind him
and slammed his cock into Sam’s ass. Jude held him upright by the hips as he pounded into him,
slaking his lust. He wasn’t going to think about why Sam had such a strong effect on him. Sam
was just a guy. Just a fuck. Just something to pass the time.
Except even as he thought it, he knew it was all a lie.
Chapter Six
Sam’s ass felt like he’d been run through. He almost laughed. He supposed he had been
run through. He wriggled backward, hoping to find the solid wall of muscle behind him, but
found empty bed instead.
He sat up gingerly. His skin still burned from the spankings Jude had delivered. Though
it hurt, his dick already lifted with the thought of more like it. He’d never been one for pain
before, but this time had felt right.
Sam had fantasies about things like that, but he’d never intended to act on them. Now that
he had, he wanted more. But he also wanted a deeper connection. He wanted Jude to make love
to him. They’d had their fucking. They’d gotten that part out of their system, but Sam couldn’t
seem to get enough of Jude.
It worried him a little.
“Jude?” Sam called cautiously, climbing out of bed.
For the first time he noticed that the belt had been taken off his wrists. He’d gotten used
to it being there. Sam levered himself off the bed without letting the cool sheets touch his sore
skin. He walked down the hall to the bathroom and turned to look at the damage in the mirror.
He blushed when he saw the angry marks. He liked it, he decided. It looked good. He turned a
little to admire it from another angle.
Yeah, his ass looked good in red. His cock rose, as eager to find Jude as the rest of Sam
was.
“Jude,” Sam called again.
He heard Jude’s low rumble. He must be on the phone. Sam rubbed a sleepy hand
through his hair and padded down the hallway to the living room. “Jude, come back to bed.”
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Jude, Agent James and another agent turned to him, their
conversation grinding to a halt. The agents looked from Sam’s naked, erect body to Jude and
back again.
Jude glowered. “Get some fucking clothes on.”
Sam’s stumbled over an apology, quickly covering his cock with cupped hands. He
turned and darted around the corner into the hall. Once there, he pressed against the cold plaster,
cooling his ass, and mentally kicking himself.
“Back to bed?” The agent Sam hadn’t recognized repeated leadingly.
“Derek, cut the crap,” James stopped him.
“That shit is so wrong,” the unknown agent, Derek, said not getting the hint.
“I fuck men,” Jude said unapologetically. “I fucked that man. Any questions?”
There was a stretch of silence.
“Nope. Think that cleared it up,” Derek answered.
“Good.” Jude’s finality made Sam smile.
“Jesus, Jude, don’t antagonize him. He could report that shit. The condoms—” James
blew out a breath. “They were a joke.”
“With a practical application.”
“Whatever. Have you told him yet?” James asked.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Sam tensed as Jude’s recognizable tread
drew nearer. He stopped short of the entrance to the hall. When he spoke again, Sam imagined
that he’d turned to face the other two.
“No.”
“You’ll need to. He’s gotta go back tomorrow,” James said.
“I’ll tell him.”
“Before or after you fuck him again?” Derek asked stupidly.
“Unless I’m fucking you, my cock is none of your business.”
“Fuck this. I’m going to wait outside. James, when you’re done here…”
The screen door swung open and slammed shut. The steps across the front porch faded
down the steps.
“It’s over, Jude. It didn’t even take a week to catch up to the bastard.”
James’ statement was met with silence.
“Did you have to sleep with him?” James asked finally.
“Weren’t you standing here when I addressed that issue with Derek?”
James’ voice sounded louder though Sam hadn’t heard him move. Still the tone and
volume suggested he had. “What were you thinking?”
The creaking of floorboards alerted him to movement seconds before he saw Jude back
up into the doorframe. Jude knew he was there, knew he was listening. Sam licked his lips,
waiting to hear what Jude would say next.
“I was thinking that Sam really does it for me.”
“But the job, man. The job. Is he worth it?”
“I’ve had five days with him. All I know is I have to see where this thing goes.”
Jude’s words spilled like warm honey into the pit of Sam’s stomach. He smiled at Jude’s
profile. Jude propped his hand on the doorframe.
“Listen, James, I need a minute with Sam. I need to let him know he doesn’t have to hide
anymore.”
“What if he doesn’t want you? What if you risked your job for nothing?”
“Is it a bad risk? If life is nothing more than a collection of paychecks, then it sucks. If
it’s about taking risks and seeing where it leads you, then I’m jumping on that train.”
“That’s stupid,” James scoffed. “You’ve worked too hard for this position. In five days
you found a cock that makes you want to risk your years in the FBI? That’s just pointless.”
Jude glanced over his shoulder. His deep brown eyes met Sam’s, and Sam felt himself
smiling, though he suspected he looked a little goofy. Mussed hair, naked, and grinning like an
idiot, it was a wonder Jude saw anything in him at all. He had to agree with James. Jude didn’t
know how Sam felt. He was effectively giving up his livelihood just to see where things went
with Sam, a virtual stranger.
How was that wise?
“It’s only pointless if I don’t take the chance.” Jude looked back into the room where
James stood out of sight of Sam. “Besides, you’re assuming that this would make me lose my
job. I have a clean record. I’m more likely to get a slap on the wrist.”
“You know me, man. We’ve been partners for four years. I’m not filing a complaint. I
can’t say the same thing about Derek.”
“Let me worry about Derek. He’s been chaffing my ass since I moved to the sector office.
I’m not afraid of what he can dish out.”
A cell phone chirped cutting off James from whatever he’d intended to say next. “Yeah,
I’m going. He knows.” James sighed. “I gotta go. There’s a Cessna waiting for you at the
airfield. Just tell the controller who you are.”
Jude nodded. He stayed put until the screen door opened and closed. A car engine
rumbled to life in the yard. The sound of the motor faded in the distance. Jude’s chin dropped,
then he faced Sam.
“Well, it’s over. It’s time to pack up and head back. You’re expected in the sector office
tomorrow.”
“Will you be there?” Sam asked.
“Until I deliver you, you’re mine.”
Sam quirked a smile, wondering if Jude realized the double meaning of his words.
“So we have one more night,” Sam clarified.
“We fly back as soon as we get to the airfield. The flight plan will be waiting for us. Back
in New York, we’ll have one more night.”
Sam stepped up to him, uncaring that he was still naked and Jude wasn’t. “Did you mean
all that stuff you said, or was it just for my benefit?”
“I said it for your benefit,” Jude began. He took Sam’s hand and pulled him closer. His
brow furrowed slightly as though he was uncertain that Sam wanted to get nearer. “All of it was
true.”
“You’re risking your job for me.”
Jude shrugged. “Not really. It might look like I am, but my job isn’t at risk here.”
“Then what is?” Sam hedged, hoping idiotically that Jude would confess that his heart
was involved.
“I don’t know yet.”
“So last night wasn’t about getting off? It sure felt like it.” Sam tilted his head to the side
as he studied Jude.
Jude gave nothing away in his expression. He barely knew this man, yet Sam felt like he
had to see where things went. Jude said he felt the same way. Sam didn’t believe in love at first
sight.
“Why me?” Sam asked him.
Uncertainty flitted across Jude’s face. “I’m not sure. Can that be enough for now?”
“I think so, but I’m going to want to know more if we see how far this thing goes. I can’t
hang around waiting for you to make up your mind. I want more for my life than that.”
“You should want more.” Jude didn’t offer any further explanation.
“And last night? What was that?”
Jude winced. Dropping Sam’s hand, he ran a hand through his hair and folded his arms
across his chest.
Sam frowned. “Don’t get all defensive on me.”
“I’ve had enough confession for the day.”
“Last one. We don’t have time to play coy. What happened last night?” Sam pressed.
“I fucked you.”
“Yeah, you did do that. You also tied me up and spanked me. Care to explain?”
Jude shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not really.”
Sam put his hands on his bare hips. “Just tell me it won’t be the last time.”
Jude’s gaze heated. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“I liked it.”
“Have you ever—”
“No,” Sam finished for him. “Have you?”
Jude shook his head. “But you liked it.”
“I liked you doing it.”
“There are other things I want to do,” Jude suggested cryptically.
“Like?”
Jude shook his head. “Enough talk. We have a flight to catch.”
He physically turned Sam around and swatted him on the ass. Sam yelped and hurried to
the bedroom. Packing would be easy. They’d come with nothing. They’d leave with nothing
more than Jude’s gun and their toiletries. A shower and some clothes were all Sam needed. Well
not all. He needed Jude hard and inside him. His body quaked happily. Soon. Tonight. In New
York, now that the threat against him was over.
Thank God.
* * * *
The tiny plane had been too noisy for Jude to do more than steal glances at Sam. He’d
offered to let Sam take the controls, but Sam declined. He couldn’t wait to land. Pleasure
hummed through Jude. He actually felt excited. It had been a long time since he’d been excited
for a relationship.
He stole another look. Yeah, those bright blue eyes definitely got him going, but it was
the sharp intelligence right behind them, hiding a quiet sensitivity that Jude really wanted to
explore.
He taxied the plane into a small hanger. Waiting for them, like before, was a duffle with
keys, directions, and clothes for the final night of protective custody. Jude dropped a smaller
toiletries bag from the cabin into the side pocket of the duffle. Then Jude clicked the key fob
until he heard the lock mechanism trigger on a nearby car. The alert beep had been disabled, as
expected.
“This is it, then,” Sam murmured. “Last night and then I get to go back to my life.”
Jude watched him, looking for cues, but Sam’s expression had been carefully guarded.
When the other man ducked into the car, Jude followed, handing him the duffle.
“That’s how it works,” Jude offered noncommittally.
“How anti-climactic. Does the little girl get to go home too?”
Jude knew he’d been worried about her. After seeing her parents murdered, she’d become
the primary target. “James wouldn’t have come to the farmhouse if she were in danger.”
Jude maneuvered the car through the electric gate system. They’d landed in upstate New
York and had an hour or so drive to get to the beaten down motel the FBI had arranged for them.
Tomorrow they’d head to the sector office. Paul Winston wasn’t getting away a second time.
“That’s good. What happens after today?” Sam asked.
“We get your statement at the sector office, show you some evidence for identification.
Mostly we need information to back up the girl’s story. We can’t let this guy get through on a
technicality again.”
“I meant with us, but again? This guy has been in the FBI sights before and got away?”
Sam shifted uneasily in his seat.
Jude glanced over at him, then back at the road. “He slipped through our fingers. We
have more on him now than before.”
“But, theoretically, he could get away and come after me and the kid,” Sam supposed.
“It’s not going to happen.”
“But it could.”
“It won’t. Quit worrying about it. He’d have to get passed me first,” Jude told him with
finality.
Sam smiled curiously at Jude. Jude wanted to explore that expression further but staying
on the road seemed more imperative.
“What?” Jude asked instead.
“You’re offering to protect me beyond tomorrow?”
Jude shrugged. Had he? Yeah, he supposed he had. “It would look bad if they killed
you.”
Sam squirmed again, pushing himself up to sit on one hip.
“How’s your ass?” Jude teased.
“Sore. Not as bad, but all this sitting isn’t helping.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute of it.” Sam tucked a foot under himself and re-seat
belted.
Jude wanted to ask Sam about sex. It was nerve wracking, he decided. He’d been rough
with Sam to avoid emotional attachment and to refocus on just fucking the man. When Sam had
given himself over to whatever Jude wanted to do, and gave back with the same intensity, Jude
knew he’d underestimated Sam.
Jude didn’t know if he wanted strings. Yet the idea of cutting Sam loose for another man
to have made every instinct in his body rebel. He gritted his teeth. The “L” word came to mind,
and Jude wanted to banish it. He didn’t do sappy.
It was just a fuck, that’s all. Get that other shit out of your head, Cheney.
Whatever Jude was thinking about had put him in a sour mood for the rest of the drive.
He answered in monosyllables. By the time they pulled up in front of the skeezy motel with dirt-
stained doors and burlap-like, smoke scented curtains, Sam was ready to knock Jude’s head into
the wall for being a dick. They had one more night together, and then it was over. The case, the
interlude—if it could even be called that.
Sam opened the duffle bag on the moist-feeling polyester bed cover. His primary goal
was food. He found granola bars and snorted his disdain.
“Maybe someone delivers in this shit-hole,” Sam said, feeling Jude’s dark mood
poisoning his own.
Jude flipped through a courtesy folder that some child had scribbled on and torn pages
out of. “Pizza.” He picked up the phone and ordered.
“Make sure it has lots of garlic and onions,” Sam snapped.
“Hold the onions,” Jude told the person on the line. He hung up. “Thirty minutes.”
Jude looked at him speculatively. He crossed the room, edging around the second bed
corner to get to Sam. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“You first,” Sam insisted. “You’ve been oozing pissy-ness since we landed.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
Jude thoughtfully fisted the front of Sam’s shirt, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to
do what he was doing. As he pulled Sam in, his rich brown eyes didn’t look nearly as confident
as they had a second ago. Jude leaned down, giving Sam time to reject the advance. Sam wasn’t
about to.
His lips tingled when Jude kissed him. Smooth and gentle, Jude’s mouth rubbed Sam’s,
finding a place to settle that fit him just right. Sam slid his arms around Jude’s neck. God, the
man could kiss. It made his knees week every time.
One of Jude’s hands eased around Sam’s waist, flattening on his lower back. The hold
wasn’t the least bit sexual. It merely supported him, asking for nothing in return but that he stand
and accept the kiss, or leave. Sam parted his lips, leaving Jude no doubts that Sam wanted to be
nowhere but where he was, held by this man. At least, he hoped Jude got the message.
Jude’s other arm wrapped around him, holding him tight to Jude’s chest. The slide of his
lips on Sam’s was addictive. Warm and slick, the flick of a tongue to tease the opening Sam had
given him was part of Jude’s expert seduction. He didn’t press the kiss further, and he also didn’t
let up.
Sam’s cock raged hard and eager. He bumped his hips against Jude’s relishing the
equally rigid length he found there. His hands shook to hold it, but he wanted Jude to set the
pace, and if it meant accepting the tantalizingly slow seduction, Sam didn’t want to miss a
moment of it.
Someone knocked on the door. Jude took a step back. He blew out a breath, a wicked
smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “Dinner’s here.”
Sam licked his lips. “Fuck food.”
Jude laughed as he pulled out his wallet and removed several bills. It was the first time all
day Sam had seen him completely at ease. In fact, Jude had never been this relaxed. Sam liked
this side of him. His body moved more loosely. He smiled more easily. His eyes lit up and
weren’t constantly searching or analyzing. He looked younger, happier, and Goddamn if he
didn’t look a thousand times sexier. Sam hadn’t believed it possible to want Jude more than he
already did. He’d been sorely mistaken.
Jude backed his way to the door, keeping his eyes locked on Sam, that secretive smile in
place. It took all Sam’s willpower to keep from running to him and dragging him to the bed.
“Check the toiletries bag. I put my gun and some other stuff in there.”
Sam reached for the duffle, unzipping the side panel. He pulled out the lube and foil-
wrapped condoms from the farmhouse. “So that’s what you put in there.”
“I couldn’t just tote my gun in the open. And the risk of a firearm in the cockpit? No
thanks. Complaining?” Jude asked.
“Not at all. I’m glad you had the foresight.”
“Always be prepared,” Jude quipped.
“I think you’re confused. That’s the Boy Scout motto, not the FBI’s.”
“There are more similarities than you’d think.” Jude unbolted the door as a second knock
sounded. “Coming.”
“I certainly hope so,” Sam said under his breath, eyeing Jude’s firm ass with interest.
The door kicked open suddenly, knocking Jude backward. Sam startled, dropping the
small bag he’d been holding, and stared at the barrel of a gun being leveled on Jude.
Chapter Seven
“Jude!”
“Stay calm,” Jude told him, holding a hand up in his direction. “Don’t move.”
Derek held a pizza in his other hand. “I hope you don’t mind my intercepting dinner.” He
sniffed the box dramatically.
“What the fuck are you doing Derek?” Jude bit out.
“Taking care of a slight glitch in Mr. Winston’s plan.”
“You work for Winston?” Jude asked incredulously. The FBI had always suspected
Winston had someone working on the inside, but he’d never have guessed it to be an agent so
close the investigation. No wonder they always seemed to be one step ahead.
Derek dropped the pizza box on the nearest bed. “Get comfortable. We have guests
coming any minute.”
“Who are you expecting?” Sam asked.
Jude motioned for him to stay quiet when Derek’s gun swung in Sam’s direction. From
the corner of his eye, he saw Sam quickly sit on the foot of the second bed.
“I like convenience. I like tidying up loose ends even more. What’s more tidy and
convenient than taking care of two birds with one stone? Hm?” Derek made a dramatic show of
thinking about it. “Can’t think of one. Can you?”
The sound of a car door shutting, the snuffle of a child trying to hold back tears, and
another man’s voice brought the reality of their situation glaringly to light. The little girl tripped
into the room clutching her teddy bear. Her big blue eyes widened as she saw the gun. The
second man, someone Jude didn’t know but thought he should, shoved the girl toward Jude. He
caught her easily, squatting down to look her in the eyes.
“You’re Matilda Piltnik, aren’t you?” he asked her.
The girl nodded.
“I’m Agent Cheney. See that man sitting on the bed? That’s my friend, Sam. Can you go
sit with him, sweetheart?”
She didn’t look like she trusted him. No wonder considering that an agent, the agent
assigned to protect her, had just delivered her to a killer.
“C’mere, honey,” Sam called her.
Derek picked up the pizza box and tossed it to the other bed where Sam and Matilda
were. “Eat something. Maybe it’ll shut her up.”
“Derek, what are you doing? She needs to be kept safe.” Jude tried to reason with him.
“You know better than that, Cheney. If an agent’s gonna turn, he’s gonna turn big.”
The unknown man who’d delivered the girl leaned around the motel door. “He’s secured,
sir.”
A shadow filled the opening, backlit from the outside light. Jude caught a glimpse of a
businessman dressed in a suit coat and tie.
“I want it to look like he did it,” the man told Derek.
“It will. The evidence they find will point directly to Agent Cheney. They’ll think he
went rogue, shot the two witnesses and then hung himself,” Cheney assured.
“Good. You, go outside and keep watch.” The second guy disappeared, bumping passed
the newcomer as he went.
As the businessman stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, there was no
mistaking his identity. Paul Winston was taking care of business personally. And that realization
provided the identity of the other man, his assistant. No wonder he’d looked vaguely familiar. If
Jude hadn’t been assigned to specifically watch Sam, he’d have recognized the man instantly.
He still should have known. Not that it changed anything.
“Mr. Winston. Doing your dirty work personally?” Jude asked, hoping to buy time.
“Just not allowing there to be any confusion this time around. You’ve been quite a thorn
in my side, Agent Cheney. I don’t like thorns. I pluck them out.”
“Really? We’re going for bad cop-drama dialogue here? Is there a rule book that requires
bad use of metaphors for you people?” Sam snapped.
“Geez, Sam,” Jude said, glaring at him. “Not now.”
“Sorry.”
“Mouthy sonofabitch, isn’t he?” Winston said.
“You’d have to ask Cheney. He’s been sucking that one’s cock all week,” Derek snarked.
Winston smacked him on the back of the head. “Watch your mouth. There’s a kid here.”
“Ow! She’s gonna be dead in ten minutes anyway.”
Matilda started crying. Sam hugged her, running a hand over her hair and making
soothing noises. He glared at Derek. “Have some sensitivity, moron. She’s just a kid.”
“Hey,” Jude said, standing. He needed their attention back on him. Anything to keep the
gun from being pointed at Sam or Matilda. “What can we do to convince you that you’re safe?
Do you want anything? A trade? I can get the sector on the phone and we can have a little chat.”
“Your little office is nothing to me,” Winston said. “I have people everywhere. You’re
just an inconvenience.”
“Derek, think about what you’re doing,” Jude cautioned.
“I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought it through two point six million times, and I’ve
decided that Mr. Winston has every right to be as secure as he wants.”
“So, you see, Agent Cheney, there’s nothing further to discuss.” Winston motioned at
Derek. “Take care of it.”
“Yes, sir.” Derek waved his gun. “Go stand over there. I want you about five feet away.”
“I’m not going to make this easy for you. If you want it to look like suicide by hanging,
then you can’t shoot me.”
“Don’t think I can’t use it to my advantage,” Derek argued. “I could always claim that I
followed you back here, got a shot off, but was too late. Hanging you was just a suggestion. I can
make just about anything work to my advantage. Put your hands on your head and keep them
there. Where’s your firearm?”
“In the bag,” Jude told him, tipping his chin toward the duffle. He glanced briefly for the
toiletries kit that had fallen on the ground. He didn’t see it.
Sam continued to gently shush the child, whispering calm words and sending her small
smiles. The little girl suddenly broke free.
“Mister,” she said, looking up at Jude. Her lips trembled and she looked terrified. “Please
take care of Boodle-jinx for me.” Her tiny hands covered his eyes, as though she protected him
from seeing.
“Honey, you should hang on to him,” Jude told her gently.
She shook her head wildly. “No! I don’t want him to see.” Her huge blue eyes watered.
Jude looked to Derek and Winston for permission. “Seeing her parents die freaked her
out enough. Do you mind?”
“Make it quick,” Winston barked.
Jude took the bear from her shaking hands, careful to put his hands over the bear’s eyes
like she had. “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” he told her.
The bear’s little backpack was heavy. He shot a quick look at Sam. Sam gave him an
almost imperceptible nod. The gun.
Matilda ran back to Sam’s outstretched arms and huddled there. Jude left one hand over
the bear’s eyes. Then, not giving himself time to over-think it, he reached into the tiny pack and
grabbed the gun. Its comfortable weight settled in his palm. Peace washed over him. This was his
talent. These moments were made for him.
With the stuffed bear pressed to his chest, the other two men didn’t know yet what Jude
knew. Another gun had just joined the fray. There was a guy outside keeping watch. He’d hear
the gun when it fired. There was Derek with a firearm of his own, he’d be first. Winston
wouldn’t want to dirty his hands.
In one swift move, Jude stepped between Derek and Sam, pulling the gun free. He got off
a shot, nicking Derek’s upper arm and rendering his hand useless. Derek bellowed, reeling
backward, his gun flying into the wall and dropping behind the bedside table.
Winston ran for the door.
“Don’t,” Jude warned him.
The door opened anyway. The assistant was blocking Winston’s path. Jude leaped across
the distance grabbing Winston by the collar and hauling him backward, gun at the base of his
skull.
“Stay right where you are.”
The assistant backed into the room. At least Jude could count on the pencil pusher to be
unarmed.
“Go hang out with Derek over there. Sam, get my cell. Hit the one key and call this in.
I’ll keep them busy.”
Behind him Jude heard the rushed exchange between Sam and the person on the other
end of the phone. Calm under pressure. Pride in Sam swelled in Jude’s chest. Any doubt he’d
had that Sam was his, evaporated. He was perfect, and as soon as this mess was over Jude was
going to dedicate himself to proving it to Sam until he agreed.
* * * *
Sam strained his neck, looking for Jude. The courtroom was packed. Reporters filled the
aisles and bulbs flashed as Winston was escorted away. Now, it was over. But where was Jude?
Because of the criminal homicide attempts, and the murder of Gregg Christiansen, the
case had been expedited through the legal system. A little over a month after the motel gun fight,
and a jury had already found Winston guilty on fourteen counts of first degree murder along with
several other criminal charges. Winston wouldn’t be seeing the light of day for a long, long time.
Other than quick phone calls, he hadn’t seen Jude since the arrest. He didn’t know how
he’d come to need Jude so quickly, but he did. He needed to hear his voice, needed to see him.
He’d been counting on Jude to be there for the reading of the verdict. He’d promised.
The courtroom cleared. Negligently leaning on the back wall, like he was holding it up,
Jude folded his arms and watched him. A smile softened his lips, and there was a happy light in
his eyes. Sam’s breath caught. Relaxed, happy, and smiling at him was exactly the way Sam had
chosen to remember him. It was like revisiting those precious moments after the last time Jude
had kissed him. Before all hell had broken loose.
Sam didn’t wait for an invitation. He crossed the room to Jude. Jude stood, waiting for
him. He didn’t even hesitate when Sam got there, just held him tightly in his arms. Sam sighed.
“I thought you hadn’t come,” Sam confessed.
“I couldn’t miss this. You needed me. I always want to be here when you need me.”
Sam looked up at him hopefully. “I need you every day. Think you can swing that?”
Jude’s easy smile warmed Sam to the core. “I thought it was going to be a lot harder to
convince you of that.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You thought you needed to convince me?”
“I was fully prepared for a total seduction taking as long as necessary.”
“Hey, now, we don’t need to rule that out just yet.”
Jude threw his head back, laughing. Sam’s skin tingled, alive at the sound of Jude letting
go. When Jude’s laugh returned to twinkling eyes and toothy grin, he pressed a kiss to Sam’s
lips. “I have some other news for you too.”
“Oh?”
“Gifford told me you’d been asking about Matilda’s circumstances,” Jude began.
“Yeah, I’ve been worried about her.”
“She’s in foster care. She’s doing well. Gifford wanted to let you know that if you wanted
to adopt her, he’d put a recommendation in for you.”
A smile split Sam’s face as he failed to contain the joy he was feeling. The man he’d
fallen for wanted him and the little girl who’d stolen his heart could become his daughter.
“Really? Based on the motel thing?”
“That and because of your persistence in making sure she’s been safe this past month. I
may have put in a good word for you too,” Jude said.
Sam kissed him. God, he loved this man.
“I love you too.”
Sam blinked.
“What? You didn’t know you’d said that out loud?” Jude teased.
Sam blushed.
“C’mon. Let me take you home and show you exactly how much I liked hearing it.”
Sam’s nerves were jumping by the time they got to his apartment. Everything was a
mess, like it had been searched. Jude didn’t let him get distracted though. He pulled him close,
kicking the door shut behind him.
Jude took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
“How do you know where to go?” Sam asked.
“I was the one who discovered that the bugs in your apartment weren’t ours.”
“You’ve been in here.”
Jude smiled mysteriously. “Yeah. I may have stopped to smell your aftershave.”
Sam grinned. He’d been doing a lot of that today. It felt good to be this happy. Jude
unbuttoned Sam’s oxford shirt. He tugged on Sam’s belt, and Sam lost himself in the heated
expression that baring his body had on Jude. Knowing that a man like Jude—self-sufficient, sexy
as hell, competent—wanted him as badly as Sam did him, turned him on in a big way.
Sam stepped out of his pants. He reached down to rid himself of his shoes and socks and
pushed down his underwear. He stood naked and hard before Jude.
“Last time you were fully dressed and I was naked, my ass was sore,” Sam reminded
him.
“If you don’t mind, I don’t want to do that this time.”
“Good. I was hoping for something a little less aggressive.”
Jude pulled off his shirt. Sam’s fingers glided over his pristinely muscled chest, nudged
his flat, tan nipples. “Like what?”
“No distractions or complications. Just us.” Jude sucked in sharply when Sam’s fingers
dipped to his waistband.
“Just us sounds fantastic.” Sam unbuttoned Jude’s jeans, pushing them down much the
same way Jude had just done to Sam.
Jude walked away.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“Getting your stash of condoms.” Jude reappeared from the bathroom a moment later
with condoms and the flavored lubricant Sam favored.
“Right. You’ve been through my things.”
Jude stripped the rest of his clothes. It was the first really good look Sam had of him. He
was every wet dream come to life. Jude’s thick cock jutted toward Sam as though it led the man
it was attached to.
Jude tossed the condoms and lube on the bed, and took both of Sam’s hands. “This time,
I’m not rushing. I want to see every minute of you coming.”
Sam linked their fingers. His throat closed with emotion and he swallowed passed the
lump that had formed. “Sounds good.”
Sam pulled Jude on top of him on the bed. He shuddered as their naked bodies pressed
together. Jude’s big brown eyes stared candidly into his. Sam’s cock flexed against Jude’s
deliciously.
“We have something here. You know that right?” Sam said.
Jude kissed him. Leisurely, he tasted Sam’s lips, exploring them, fitting against them,
drugging Sam with every wicked sweet of his mouth against Sam’s. “I’m fully aware,” he
murmured.
Teasing kisses trailed along Sam’s jaw, savored his neck with long shivering sucks, and
traced downward to his nipple. He’d never be particularly sensitive there, but with Jude claiming
one in a deep sucking pull, Sam nearly came off the bed. He groaned, burying his hands in
Jude’s hair to keep him on that spot.
Jude wouldn’t be deterred. After devoting himself to both nipples equally, he kissed the
tips and tracked toothy nips down Sam’s belly to his cock. Cool, tingly mint lube slicked his
shaft. Sam gasped. He tried to push Jude’s head toward his aching cock, but Jude chuckled and
happily licked Sam’s balls instead.
“I love these. They’re so pretty,” Jude murmured. “Hairless, gorgeous pink nuggets that
fit right in my—”
Sam yelped as Jude’s hot mouth closed on his balls. He tossed his head. The sensations
crashed into each other leaving Sam speechless but for the unintelligible noises he couldn’t hold
back.
Jude’s curious lips came off to press wet kisses to the length of his cock. But it was when
Jude closed on his tip that Sam's mind went blank. His tongue probed the tiny hole, flickered
under the head and Jude seemed to relish every inch.
Sam bucked, sinking his cock deeper into the welcome warmth of Jude’s mouth. “Jude, I
can’t wait.”
Jude sucked harder. He palmed Sam’s balls in a gentle massage that gave Sam the
permission he needed. He lifted his hips feeling the spiraling tingle of orgasm burn low and hot.
His balls tightened. Jude’s tongue pressed firmly. Sam shouted as cum raced up his cock,
exploding into Jude’s mouth.
Jude took it all, swallowing and cleaning until the last spurts emptied him. Jude worked
lube into Sam’s hole.
“You should see yourself come,” Jude whispered. “Your whole body gets into it and you
look like you touch God.”
Sam laughed. “I think I did. He says hi.”
Jude laughed too. He took a condom, never slowing as he worked Sam’s rosette and
dressed himself. That took talent, Sam decided.
“I want to see you do that a lot more,” Jude told him seriously.
“I need you inside me.” Sam couldn’t think of anything that expressed it better. He did
need Jude inside. He needed him there, his lips within reach, his body moving over and inside of
him.
Jude rose up, positioning himself at Sam’s entrance. He hooked one of Sam’s thighs and
pushed his other foot high against Sam’s ass. Like a gorgeous flower, Sam’s body opened for
him, his puckered entrance quivering with expectation.
“Do you have any idea how seeing you like this turns me on?” Jude asked.
“Tell me.”
“Better. I’ll show you.” Jude pushed in, letting Sam’s body adjust to him in increments.
When he was finally seated, balls deep, Jude stole a kiss from that adorable pout Sam always
seemed to have. He liked that natural curve of his full lower lip.
Sam smiled warmly, his blue eyes shining. “You feel amazing inside me.”
“Get used to it.”
Jude pulled out, enjoying the loss as much as the pleasure when he rocked his hips and
flexed back into his lover. Sam’s body was made for loving. It took him easily, responsively.
Sam made a strangled sound as Jude pulled out and thrust in again.
“Everything okay?” Jude asked.
“Fantastic. Amazing. Incredible. Just don’t stop.”
“I have no intention of stopping,” Jude told him.
Sam adjusted his leg to hook over Jude’s shoulder. He linked his fingers with Jude’s
above his head. Jude had never felt more connected to another human being.
Sam caught his bottom lip. Jude kissed it. He rocked into Sam, his pace increasing.
Orgasm took him by surprise, swelling and overwhelming him. Jude thrust, keeping pace with
the clamoring desire. He shouted. He zinged through Sam like sensual lightning, taking control
of him as he rutted to completion. He came in thick jets as Sam came a second time, ropes of
fluid anointing Jude’s chest.
Jude hugged him close, rolling to the side. He fitted Sam’s back against him, not caring
they they’d both need a shower later. Hell, they could start it all over again under the hot spray.
Jude could hardly wait.
Epilogue
Sam unlocked the front door. Already the smells of an Italian feast swam around him in
welcome. “Honey, I’m home!”
Jude walked over, a kitchen towel on his bare shoulder. What Sam had thought to be a
moment of convenience in the farmhouse and the cabin turned out to be a regular occurrence. In
the past nine months, Sam had discovered that Jude didn’t just like cooking, he liked to do it half
dressed. That was fine by Sam, because any spills on that gorgeous chest meant interesting
flavors for the bedroom.
Come to think of it, Sam thought maybe he should “accidentally” drip some homemade
tomato sauce on Jude’s chest just to ensure later enjoyment. His mouth watered with the prospect
of running his tongue over Jude’s body.
Jude greeted him with a kiss. “Hey sexy. I’ve got some news.”
“So do I. You go first.”
“I have another case coming up. It’s local. I asked Gifford to take me off undercover
work.”
“So you’ll be around more?” Sam clarified.
Sounded good to him. So far the two undercover cases Jude had taken lasted a matter of
weeks, but they were weeks spent apart, and Sam wasn’t a fan of that. He supposed he was
lucky. He knew it could have been worse and lasted months or years.
Jude headed back to the kitchen. Sam followed.
“I’ll be around more if I have to change specialties,” Jude promised.
“Good.” Sam caught his bottom lip, holding out an open manila envelope. “It’ll make this
even better.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s official. Matilda’s ours.” Sam knew he was grinning like a fool.
Jude whooped and swept Sam into a spin. “Oh my God, that’s amazing! When?”
“Monday. Think we can get married this weekend instead of next?” Sam asked hopefully.
“Anything you want. I’m not going anywhere. A husband and a daughter in one
weekend. Could this day get any better?”
Sam smiled wickedly. “It might.” He held up the other shipping envelope he’d been
holding. “The leather cuffs arrived in the mail today.”
Jude’s look turned heated. “Fuck dinner. Let’s go celebrate.”
Sam’s heart filled with love. “I can wait. You worked too hard to ignore dinner.”
“It’s only food,” Jude murmured, pulling Sam into his arms again. “You are forever.”
About the Author
Mia makes her home in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she divides her time between a job and
spying on people. Mia enjoys long walks in the park, daisies, dancing in the snow… (Delete
prior sentence, meant for personal ad)…
Mr. Perfect may apply in person for a thorough evaluation and trial. All others will be towed.
Also Available from
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Meanwhile, Joe and Sage must secure the last three Zodiac Stones and prevent their theft while
they wait for exhibition. Can they put their sexual tension aside long enough to stop a clever
thief? And even if they do, will Joe’s heart be a casualty of their inevitable fling, or could Sage
really be looking for more than a one-night stand?
Sealing the Deal by Kim Dare
Sex Sells Series, Book 1
Toby Garland understands contracts. As the best contract negotiator in the city, he’s built his life
and his livelihood around his ability to push through any contract and seal any deal. All that
amounts to nothing when Hudson Scott, the man he’s been fantasizing about for the last three
months, offers him a BDSM slave contract in the middle of an office party.
Faced with the most important negotiation he will ever undertake, all Toby has to do is think
clearly and treat it like any other contract he’s worked on. But it’s not that simple. This isn’t just
any contract. Hudson isn’t just any dominant. And thinking clearly through a sea of arousal and
submission has never been Toby’s strongest point.
In For a Penny by Carol Lynne
What’s the old saying…you can never go home again? Raven Black resigned himself to never
returning after being ordered from the only real home he’d ever known. Now, seven years later,
Raven is back to face the man who sent him away.
Zane Conner is not only Raven’s foster brother but the only man Raven ever loved. Despite his
mixed feelings about the situation, Raven can’t deny Zane when the older man asks for his help
in saving the Lazy C Bar Ranch. A boy found dead on the ranch clinches Raven’s decision.
Why did the young boy look so much like he had at that age—the same age he’d been when his
own father had beaten him and left him for dead?
In the Shadow of a Hero by Anna Mayle
A cop dies in the city, life goes on. For one little boy, though, it changed everything. Haunted by
his past, Maxwell Thomas has grown up homeless and friendless, trapped by his guilt. Prowling
the city, the small man guards the Church District like a vigilante, trying to make up for his
crime. When he rescues the wrong rent boy, he is pulled back into the madness that destroyed
him as a child. And now, another cop's life is on the line...
Nick Kenna is a beat cop with dreams of being a detective. When he stumbles across a murder
and the very unusual suspect, he finds himself caught, not only by the mystery of the vagrant he's
apprehended, but something deeper that sparks between them.
Will Nick be able to save Maxwell, from his past and himself? Or will love be lost as the broken
man fades into the shadow of his hero?
Backing Brian by Cheryl Dragon
Once a Texan, always a Texan and Brian Beaumont has come back home to open his high-end
western wear shop. Not everyone is thrilled with the gay son of a Texas millionaire opening a
clothing store. Lucky for Brian, his new brother-in-law sends protection from Raider’s
Bodyguard Service. If only Brian could resist the hunky muscled Texas native assigned to guard
his body day and night.
Jones never wanted to go back to Texas. He left at eighteen for many reasons, but his career is
more important than the demons of his past. Always a professional, he meets his match in the
tempting Brian. The line between business and pleasure vanishes when their mutual love of sex,
rope and power play takes over.
The Mark of Cain by Cash Cole
After a night of hot sex with an elusive Native American, Gage is left with a bullet wound and a
scarred shoulder from where a panther slashed him. The New Orleans police tell Gage that his
lover morphing from man to beast is highly improbable and that whoever broke into his hotel
room left no trace evidence, but Gage knows he hasn’t imagined any of this. He starts with the
only clue he has, the name of a town in Oklahoma where his lover said he was born. But can he
track down sexy Cain, who is in witness protection, before the assassins find and kill them both?
Possession by SW Vaughn
Devlin Island Series: Book One
Sully Shaw is one of three – a coven of gay male witches on Devlin Island, charged with
protecting the place from the ancient gate between worlds, deep in the woods, that sometimes
lets evil things escape. Sully’s job is to banish demons and spirits – which works for him,
because after his last disastrous relationship, he’d rather not deal with people. Until a gorgeous
stranger crashes on his private beach and needs his help.
Troy Landry was just out for a vacation, and maybe a fling, on Devlin Island. What he didn’t
bargain for was crashing his boat on the beach, finding a hot naked man who claims to be a
witch, and getting possessed by a demon who takes over his body when he falls asleep. The
demon can’t be driven out until dawn – so Troy and Sully have to stay awake all night long. Lots
of sex helps. But when they start falling for each other, incredible sex might not be enough to
overcome Troy’s insecurities, Sully’s past trauma, and a demon bent on releasing its brethren
and killing any mortal who stands in its way.
Moon Princess by Suzanne Graham
As Celina Maddock left the office on a Friday evening, her coworker jumped into her car and
demanded she get on the highway and drive fast after their sizzling kiss in the parking lot. She
never imagined she’d get the gorgeous Barrett Osborn ordering her around; however, when he
starts talking about Shadows, werewolves, and werebears, she becomes a little worried about his
mental health.
When Barrett’s lover, Stan Varka, offers his assistance in escaping the Shadows, Celina goes
along with their strange story about shapeshifters, because finding herself the center of their
attention becomes extremely erotic.
Once they’ve finished their night of playacting, Celina doesn’t think she could possibly have a
future with these two amazing lovers, until they convince her that she really is the Moon Princess
and the only hope for establishing peace between the wolves and the bears.
Blood of the Fallen by Dakota Rebel
The concept of Armageddon has been thrown at international arms dealer, Drake Brokk, his
entire life. But he never expected to find himself in the middle of it.
When Elijah Abrams, a fallen angel disguised as an FBI agent, tells him the ultimate battle is
threatening to explode Drake has a hard time accepting it. He certainly can't believe it's up to him
to stop it.
Armed with only an ancient sword, a kleptomaniac elf and his wits, Drake seriously doubts his
ability to win the battle between good and evil. And he knows for sure there is no weapon forged
that could keep him from falling for the fallen angel.
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