Chapter 2

As he hung up the phone, he heard the unmistakable sound of Gideon showering. He frowned. That couldn’t be right. He didn’t expect to see Gideon until at least six and it was only…

Jesse frowned and looked at his watch. A quarter to six. Where had the last hour gone?

He stared at the stack of books and his notebook with a familiar sense of helplessness. He had promised Gideon he would have the research done, the weapons prepared, and he had nothing. He couldn’t even remember reading the damned books, but he was sure he had. He could tell Gideon he needed more time, but what if Gideon wanted to know why? For as often as he lost time—an hour or two completely gone from his memory wasn’t uncommon—he should have a convincing excuse on hand. But he didn’t.

Six months. Six months since Marcus Brooker had kidnapped him, tortured him, filled his head with stories and lies and death. His body was as healed as it would ever be—though the scars weren’t going anywhere. Not without major cosmetic surgery. Everything else was back to normal. And everything else was wrong all the time.

Jesse’s fingers didn’t want to cooperate, but he forced them to close around the pen, then turned back to the book he must have been reading before. He didn’t remember for sure, but it was the one that was still open on his desk.

When the footsteps came, he deliberately didn’t look up. I’m utterly absorbed in my reading, he tried to wordlessly convey. He even turned a page, hoping that would convince Gideon.

“When did it start snowing again?”

“Snowing?” Jesse glanced out the window, staring at the fat, white flakes in surprise. “I’m not sure.” He tried to think of any reliable markers during his day. The post always arrived around one, and when he opened the door to speak to the deliveryman, it hadn’t been snowing. “After lunch, I guess.”

Gideon crossed the room in long strides, folding his arms over his chest as he stared out over the city. The glass was starting to frost from the cold, a reminder that Jesse hadn’t turned the thermostat up that morning as was his routine, but Gideon blocked most of it from view. His hair was still damp from the shower, razor-short except where it flopped over his brow, and the shirt he wore strained over his back. He looked broader than usual. Jesse wasn’t sure why.

“Well, we won’t have to worry about the nest tonight, at least,” Gideon mused aloud. “Those things will be hunkered in against the storm.”

Jesse couldn’t contain his sigh of relief. Researching wasn’t impossible by any means, but reading was always more difficult after an attack. He understood maybe one word out of five. He’d simply tackle the problem the next morning.

“Are you going to go out tonight, then?”

“Depends. When is Emma supposed to be home?”

Emma was in the habit of sharing a cup of coffee with him in the morning before she left for work. For whatever reason, he could always recall the details of the quiet conversations they shared then. “She told me eight. Or eight-thirty. It depends on if she stops somewhere to pick up dinner.”

Gideon seemed to give up on snowgazing and came back to lounge in the corner of the couch. No matter how many times Jesse saw him, or laid in bed watching him, or fell asleep where the last thing he saw were the two people he loved most in this world, Jesse felt Gideon’s attraction like a blow to his chest. The strong nose, jaw, the dark eyes that could go black with desire in a single blink, or better, turn golden and gleam with hunger Jesse sated best. Sometimes looking at Gideon was taking a drink of the clearest water for an unquenchable thirst. It was exactly what he needed, desired, and only made him want more.

“Is she getting something for you, too?” Gideon asked. “Or would you like me to make you something since it looks like we’ll be in for a while?”

Jesse almost said I’m not hungry, but those words were all but verboten. Gideon basically acted as though he didn’t hear them, and food would magically appear in front of Jesse whether he wanted it or not.

“She’s going to bring me a roast beef from the deli.” Jesse sat back in his chair and let his gaze move over the lines of Gideon’s body once again. He knew he was too tired to stay at his desk, but he didn’t want to go downstairs and leave Gideon in the office. Despite everything, he wasn’t really in the mood to be alone. “Can we…I think I’m done up here for the day. Can we lock the office up?”

For a moment, he thought he saw Gideon’s mouth tighten, but the moment quickly passed, and Gideon was rising to his feet again.