Chapter 2

Wait, he was calling Mr. Vincent baby? I barely kept my jaw from dropping.

“You’ve been down here for hours. I’m not leaving until I get you settled.”

“You always make such a big thing out of everything.” The man in the bed shifted and sucked in a breath.

“You need something for pain?” Mr. Vincent looked around, as if he were searching for a nurse.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not, but I won’t argue with you.”

“Promise?” The injured man closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep.

“He’s been doing that on and off since you left.” Slouched in a chair was a good-looking man with reddish curly hair. His voice was a warm baritone, and the sound of it was like silk caressing my cock.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I’d always had a weakness for redheads, but every one of those redheads had been girls. This wasn’t a cute, androgynous guy who could just as well have passed for a cute girl. This guy was all male. He was wearing stonewashed jeans, and the way his foot was propped on the lowered railing of the bed drew them tight across his crotch. Was he even wearing anything under them?

I dragged my gaze up and found myself staring at his mouth. His lips were made for kissing—and why had I even thought of that? I’d never kissed a guy. Michael had turned his head away the only time I’d tried to initiate a kiss, and other than him, there had been no one else.

It felt as if something large had wedged in my throat, but I couldn’t chance clearing it and drawing attention to myself.

I was relieved my overcoat concealed the sudden interest my body was taking in him. It also concealed the ordinary brown suit I wore. In my early days at the WBIS, I’d been taught not to draw attention to myself, to always dress inconspicuously. It had never bothered me before. Why, now, did I wish I was wearing tight black leather?

I used to laugh when Jill, my stepmom, would fuss about having just the right outfit to wear for my Dad. When had I become her?

I raised my gaze higher. He was watching me, an eyebrow raised, a slight smirk on those lips, as if he knew I wanted to get naked with him.

Oh. I felt my interest begin to lag. I’d met people like him before, mostly women, but some men, who thought because of the way I dressed and looked that I’d be grateful for any attention they paid to me.

Schooling my expression to disinterest, I met his eyes. They weren’t just tired. In the light brown depths, I read worry and lingering fear.

I could understand why he looked so tired. I knew what it was like sitting around in a hospital, waiting, although those times had been when Jill was giving birth, first to my brother and then my sister, and that was pretty much a guaranteed happy ending. If there had been a possibility of any other outcome, I’d have been just as worried, just as afraid.

I forced my attention back to the other occupants of the cubicle, but the red-haired man murmured, “Vince’s so protective of Pretty Boy, you know.” He stood and extended his hand. He was a couple of inches taller than me. “I’m Sweetcheeks and that’s Spike. I run this menagerie, as much as these two will allow.”

I returned his grip. His palm was cool, dry, smooth, and he didn’t try to break my fingers in a half-assed macho display. And then his middle finger stroked across my palm.

In spite of myself, I shivered as if I’d grasped a live wire, and then his words seeped into my muddled brain. That was right. He was a…They were…

I swallowed and freed my hand.

“And when are you going to give it up? This life is getting downright dangerous,” Mr. Vincent said. Then he added negligently, “This is Matheson.” He pulled out his cell phone. “He’s with me.”

Sweetcheeks seemed intrigued by that, and I wondered why. Of course, Mr. Vincent noticed. Nothing escaped him. He arched an eyebrow, and I could feel a tide of red start at my collar and flow to my hairline.

I drew in a breath to explain, although I had no clue what I would be explaining, when someone paused by the opening in the curtains.

“I’m sorry, sir, use of cell phones—” The little man with the clipboard gazed at my trainer with horror. “Oh no! Not you again!”

His eyes darted to the security guard who was at the far end of the department, chatting with some DC police, but I moved before he could summon him.