Back to Texas Page 5

  Tyler's description fit him well at first glance. With hair more salt than pepper and his somewhat conservative dress, he might well pass for someone's father. Without close scrutiny, it was easy to see why they'd consider him the accommodating, easy-to-talk-to family sort.

  They wouldn't be looking for the things Marcus had been trained to observe right away. He held himself too casually, taking slow, steady breaths that most people didn't, even at rest. He held his right arm a little away from his body and Marcus would bet there was a pistol beneath his jacket, just in case.

  "One of us is gonna have to say something," Tyler whispered against his ear, mouth close enough that his lips grazed skin. The urge to shiver caught Marcus off guard. He turned his head and found Tyler so close they might have kissed. "He'll find us any second."

  He leaned back, giving them both as much space as he could manage without making noise. No time to puzzle out where the thought had come from. He held up a hand, a gesture he hoped Tyler understood as a demand for silence. Alex, if the stranger used his own name, took his sweet time drifting toward the back of the shed.

  "Marcus."

  "I see him."

  "What're we gonna do?"

  "Sit tight," Marcus answered. "Maybe he's looking for something else. We wait him out --"

  Tyler bolted to his feet before Marcus could stop him. Flushed and out of breath, he hardly looked the picture of calm. Marcus could see his hands shaking, an effect of the adrenaline no doubt streaking through his body.

  For his part, Marcus put his back against a crate and closed his eyes. He heard Alex make a startled sound, then laugh uncomfortably. "Didn't know anyone was in here."

  Marcus slipped a hand to the small of his back and eased his pistol out of hiding. Just in case.

  Tyler's heart beat a hundred miles an hour. He stayed cool as a cucumber on the outside. A cucumber with sweating palms and a very dry throat, but he had things under control. He wouldn't fall apart.

  "Yeah. Just checking the inventory. Making sure we weren't running low on anything. Had my head in a box and didn't hear you, sorry." He set his hands at his waist for want of something else to do. "You looking for something important?"

  "Your head in a box? Literally?" Alex's smile only touched one side of his mouth and always had. Before Sela and Marcus told him about the case, Tyler considered it a character quirk. Now it looked suspicious, like everything else. Common sense. Use common sense. Sometimes things really are what they seem. "I promised Miranda I'd look for some laundry bleach," Alex said. "She's got her sleeves rolled up to the elbow and didn't want to leave the wash."

  He started forward. Tyler's heart thudded harder. Marcus hadn't moved. As a matter of fact, the big man had his eyes closed. The crate of guns they'd found lay open by his knee. What was he waiting for? Tyler wiped his hands on his jeans.

  "Laundry bleach? You're going the wrong way." He summoned a smile in turn and pointed back toward the doors. "We don't keep it back here. Try the cabinet up on the other side of the door. Pretty sure Miranda stores it in there."

  "Sure," Alex said, though he hesitated. His brow furrowed and he asked, "You okay? You look a little out of breath."

  Tyler forced his smile wider and his eyebrows to lift. "Me? I'm good. You just surprised me. You know how it goes. Your blood starts pumping. I'll be okay once I settle down."

  Alex chuckled. "Cut back on the caffeine." Shaking his head, he turned his back and went for the cabinet.

  Maybe he had just come out running errands for the housekeeping staff. Maybe Tyler had been wrong about what he thought he saw.

  "Do something," he hissed at Marcus.

  The big man whispered back, "You're sure this is the guy?"

  "Yeah. No. Maybe not. Fuck."

  "You okay back there?" Alex's voice drifted from the front. "You got a radio or something?"

  "Nah," Tyler called back as he tried to convey a message to Marcus with his eyes. "Just talking to myself. So how about that game last night?"

  Marcus shook his head but moved, rolling to his knees. He peered around the far side of the loaded rack of shelves that hid them from Alex's sight. Pistol in hand, he pushed to his feet slowly.

  Tyler stooped to close the gun crate as quietly as he could.

  "I'm gonna have to stop playing," Alex answered, chuckling again. "You boys are gonna rob me blind. You know I had two pair before Daniel came up with that flush? Damned near jumped the table to make sure the cards weren't marked."

  His laughter sounded strained to his own ears, but Tyler made the effort anyway. With the crate closed, he just had to wedge it beneath the shelf again. Hide it where he'd found it until Alex left. "Yeah, well, Daniel cheats."

  Something thumped him in the calf. Marcus jerked his head toward the front of the shed when Tyler looked up. Just in time to hear Alex's voice, closer now.

  "Don't I know it? Like I said, I'm gonna have to get a different group."

  Shit! There was no time to put the crate away. Tyler straightened abruptly and coughed at the same time he kicked it toward Marcus’s hiding place. At least he could try to keep it out of sight.

  Alex arched an eyebrow and stopped again, no more than two steps away. "You sure you're all right? That's a nasty sounding cough for this time of year."

  Tyler willed the heat out of his cheeks and waved a hand. "Just inhaled some dust, I think." He thumped his chest with a fist, coughed again for good measure, and summoned up another smile. "Find what you need?"

  Alex nodded a little slowly. He studied Tyler's expression, then glanced past him. "Hand soap. I know the bottles're back here. I'll just grab one." He stepped forward.

  Tyler blocked his path. "I can get it for you. No problem."

  Alex frowned in earnest. "What's going on? You're all kinds of worked up, Tyler. Something happen that I should know about?"

  His mind went blank. What story could he come up with now that would explain his agitation? Why couldn't he think?

  "Nothing to worry about," came a deep voice. Marcus stepped out of hiding. "He's just embarrassed." The bigger man fit himself against Tyler's side and slid his arm around Tyler's shoulders. "You walked in on a little reunion. I told him this wasn't a good place." The pistol had disappeared. Marcus swatted his chest none-too-gently. "Silly."

  Alex kept frowning, narrow gaze shifting between the other two men. "You and him," he asked Tyler. "You're gay? I thought you were married to that pretty little girl. Don't tell me she crossed the line just for this."

  The arm around Tyler's shoulders tensed. "Crossed the line?"

  Alex smiled thinly. "You know what I mean. Young, attractive white women don't turn up with a big son-of-a-buck like you unless there's something special going on. She just covering for you?"

  The question was an uncomfortable echo of some of the thoughts that had crossed Tyler's mind. Hearing someone else speak them, though, pushed his temper toward boiling too.

  He laid a hand against Marcus’s chest, less an act and more a legitimate stay than he liked. He peered at Alex. "You're such a saint that you've got the right to say shit like that?"

  Alex's smile faded somewhat. "Nobody's a saint, son. I'm just calling it like it is."

  Tyler wanted to hit him. Marcus spoke instead.

  "I am married to that pretty little girl. And no, she's not a cover." The smile he put on looked false to Tyler's eyes. "We just likes it all."

  But Alex bought it, or seemed to anyway. He took a step back, hands held up before him. "Easy there. I don't need details."

  "Just the hand soap?" Marcus offered, voice dripping with false cheer. He plucked a bottle off the shelf, said, “Catch," and lobbed it toward Alex without taking his other arm from Tyler's shoulders.

  Alex caught the bottle, glanced between the other two again, and shook his head. "Don't know whether it's congratulations or condolences, Tyler. Either way, long as you’re happy, I guess." His gaze shifted to Marcus and he looked him up and down. "Nice to meet
you, so to speak."

  That said, he turned on his heel and headed for the doors. He glanced over his shoulder briefly before he let himself out.

  Tyler stepped away from Marcus side the minute the door closed. "Look, I'm sorry about that."

  Marcus shook his head. "Not your fault. Gets to be common after a while. Thanks for the interference."

  Tyler nodded. What could he say after that sort of awkwardness? Nothing came to mind for a moment, then he chuckled and shook his head. "A reunion? That's all you could think of? He's going to go tell everyone."

  One dark eyebrow rose. "I didn't hear you reaching for anything better. Just more stumbling over your tongue. It doesn't matter," he went on before Tyler could say anything. "We know the guns are here. All we have to do is find a way to pin it on this Alex guy. That's going to take watching. That's where you come in."

  "Me?" Tyler shook his head. "I gave you the tip. You're the agent. You do the footwork, right?"

  "Right. But you're his friend. You can keep a closer eye on him than we can. Something tells me he's not going to cozy up to me. He reached over and gripped Tyler's shoulder again. "Welcome to the team."

  Chapter Six

  "So am I under house arrest? Do I need a lawyer?"

  Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose and crushed his eyes shut. It wasn't the fact that they'd kept Tyler over night. The other man slept on the couch in the living room. There'd been peace while he made his daily appearance for work, but now that chores were over, he'd come back with questions.

  Sela'd come in half an hour ago and murmured something about wanting a bath. She'd locked herself in with the radio on. Jazz drifted through the door, low, sweet, and filling Marcus’s mind with images that made concentrating on his own work hard.

  He'd been staring at the computer screen too long. He pushed his chair back and swiveled to face Tyler. "You're not under arrest," he explained for what seemed like the fifth time. "Just makes sense to me that, if we're working together in a situation where we don't know all the players, we're better off sticking together. Besides, you get Sela's company."

  "And yours." Tyler hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "If I keep spending the night, people are going to think that rumor's true."

  "Which rumor, exactly?"

  Tyler arched an eyebrow. "Me and you?" He tugged a hand free and gestured between them as if that would jog Marcus’s memory. "Being gay? Liking everything?"

  "Ah, that." His spur of the moment excuse for hiding at the back of the shed. At the time, it made a kind of sense. He couldn't remember why.

  Wait. Yes, he could. A long note from the sax in the bathroom shivered into the air and raised the hairs at the back of his neck. Not the sax. Memory. Tyler's lips against his ear. That had prompted the convenient lie. They both knew it wasn't true.

  The fact that another man's breath against his skin felt good didn't prove either one of them was gay. It was sensation, nothing more. If Sela'd done the same thing, he'd have liked that too. They'd been wound tight, adrenaline high.

  That was then. Marcus had no good reason explaining why thinking about it now had him hard where he sat.

  "Look, I'll apologize for you when this is all over, if you want. It got us out of trouble. That's all I wanted." It had been the truth then. Now?

  "Yeah, it worked." Tyler scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up at odd angles. He heaved a sigh and sprawled on the couch. "I'm not mad. Not exactly. Just... Wasn't expecting it."

  "No," Marcus agreed, telling himself not to notice the way Tyler's shirt rode up above his jeans. The music and whatever Sela used to scent the bathroom had his pulse thudding dully between his thighs. It didn't mean anything. Nothing had to happen.

  "I've been thinking about it too."

  "What?" Marcus jerked.

  Tyler met his gaze and his mouth quirked up faintly. "I've been thinking about it," he repeated and cleared his throat. "What you said. Wondering why you said it. You think I'm in to you?"

  Marcus laughed, a knee-jerk reaction to cover the sudden flush of heat that filled him. "Why would I think that? You're in to Sela. I only said it to buy us time."

  "I don't think so," Tyler countered, sitting up again. He leaned against the near arm of the couch, studying Marcus as though something might be revealed if he stared long enough. "I'm still not getting why you weren't more pissed when you caught us in the stable."

  "You wanted me to hit you?"

  "No. Jesus." Tyler laughed now. "I don't have a death wish. But you don't exactly strike me as the forgiving type. Not unless someone's on your side. Not unless you're getting something back."

  Marcus pursed his lips. "And you think, by keeping you around, I'm getting my rocks off or something?"

  "I dunno. You tell me. I'm just thinking out loud."

  Neither of them spoke for a long silence. Tyler didn't lie down again. Marcus didn't dare stand to pace, like he wanted. The jazz kept playing, underscoring the tension in the room.

  Then Tyler stood, abrupt upward motion, and headed toward him. Marcus pushed back in the chair until it thumped against the desk. Tyler stopped half a step away, close enough that Marcus’s knees brushed his jeans.

  "Asking out loud, too. Are you in to me?"

  Marcus should have laughed. It should have been easy to brush off the question, turn around and go back to work. The difference in what he should do and what he wanted overwhelmed him. He clenched his fists.

  Tyler lifted his chin. "Do it." There was challenge in his eyes. "Come on, Marcus, do it. Get it out of your system."

  Marcus heard himself groan as he stood, unfolding from the chair too quickly. He got dizzy, light-headed. That had to explain the surge of want, the tilt toward Tyler, why his mouth suddenly met the other man's.

  And why Tyler kissed him back.

  Imagining things. He imagined Tyler's hands abruptly curled in his shirt and the touch of the other man's tongue against his lips. It had to be some sort of dream, a fantasy he'd never admitted to himself. Tyler opened his mouth, a rough sound escaping him, and Marcus licked in, fierce.

  He fisted his hands in Tyler's hair and tugged, pulling the other man's mouth away, forcing a bend into his neck and his pulse to kick visibly. He bit the muscle beside it and heard himself growl, tongue tapping back against the beat beneath Tyler's skin.

  He tasted good.

  "Jesus. Marcus!"

  "Don't," he rumbled beneath Tyler's chin. "Just don't say anything. I don't want to talk."

  Tyler held onto his shoulders as Marcus backed him toward the couch again. He planted a broad hand against Tyler's chest and pushed him back with the arm of the couch behind him. Tyler sat hard and glared up at him. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips swelling from their kiss.

  A slow grin curved his mouth as Marcus pushed the other man again. Tyler toppled back onto the couch and Marcus crawled after him.

  They didn't waste time with endearments neither of them meant. Before Marcus could pin him against the cushions, Tyler moved, shoving himself up the couch so he could stretch out, long lines of his body on display.

  Marcus reached for his belt, jerking it open before he went for the fly. The zipper sounded loud in the relative silence of the room, but loud felt right just now. Denim parted under his hand and Tyler lifted his hips, thrusting up to meet Marcus’s fingers, hot and hard and very erect.

  It worked like fuel on a fire. Marcus groaned and kissed him again, crushing their mouths together and bruising his lips on Tyler's teeth. Tented fabric brushed aside, Marcus curled Tyler's cock against his palm.

  Tyler arched up sharply, Marcus’s name on his lips. "Sorry," he panted a second later and slung an arm around Marcus’s neck. "Sorry, no talking." Words dissolved into a rain of kisses and bites that followed the line of Marcus’s collarbone.

  He'd had never held another man in his hand. When Tyler's cock jerked, his balls drew up in response. "Fast," he warned, barely able to breathe. "It's gotta be
fast. Now," he demanded as he felt his control disintegrate. He thrust down hard against Tyler's hip and stroked him faster, roughly.

  The sting of the scrapes Tyler left on his skin when he came, spilling sticky heat in heavy pulses through Marcus’s fingers, got lost in the blur and buzz of Marcus’s own release. In the moments after, when the world started spiraling down to its usual pace, he noticed the sensation but didn't mind.

  Marcus let go of Tyler. The other man lay still beneath him, save the heaving of his chest. His eyes were closed and a hand fisted in his own hair. Marcus caught himself smiling, satisfied. Caught himself thinking beautiful and asked, "You okay?"

  Tyler's eyes fluttered open. Marcus watched his pupils readjust, focusing. "Yeah. Yeah." He searched Marcus’s face. "Yeah, I'm okay. That was ... intense."

  "And the hottest thing I've ever seen."

  Both men flinched. Marcus sat up first. He felt Tyler lean against him as they looked to the doorway.

  Sela stood there, clutching the towel around her. As they watched, a rosy blush crept into her cheeks. "Ah, hi," she said when the silence stretched thin. "Don't mind me. Just getting dressed. Don't let me stop you." She paused, then grinned brightly. "Don't let me stop you, please."

  Complicated didn't begin to explain what their lives had just become. Sela couldn't find a reason to call complications anything but good.

  "You liked that?" Marcus’s forehead wrinkled. "Seriously?"

  "Oh yeah," she enthused and padded toward the couch. "The two of you, so wrapped up in each other that you weren't going to stop for anything?" She smiled slowly. "Oh yeah. You were gorgeous," she added, looking at Tyler too. "Both of you. I feel like I won the lottery or something."

  Tyler snorted. When she arched an eyebrow, he said, "It's not funny. I'm not gay."

  Sela's shoulder rose and fell. "So don't use the word. Do what feels good." Her gaze shifted between them, both of their jaws set stubbornly. "It's just sex, guys. It's not the start of a war. Call it a one-time out-of-body fluke if you want and let it go. It doesn't have to mean anything."