Bottom Line, page 6
Nick walked over, ordered a single malt, neat, then leaned against the bar, keeping the stool between Ben and himself. “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine,” he misquoted, trying to keep the roller coaster of emotions out of his face. He suddenly couldn’t remember why he’d been trying to stay away from Ben, why he was keeping the chair between them.
“Duncan told me to contact you when I called him. Gave me your number, told me where to find you.” Ben shrugged. “Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered.”
Nick found it hard to concentrate, and latched on to the detail that didn’t make sense. “Why would he give you my number? You had it.”
“Really, Marshall?” If Ben called him Marshall, that meant Nick had screwed up. “I suppose houses get blown up in your line of work all the time.” Ben’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “So I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t remember a particular one.”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I remember.” How could he forget? The image of Ben being carried out of the rubble was burned indelibly into his brain.
Ben stared at him, eyebrows raised. “The house? My phone? Your card? Like everything else in my luggage? Boom. If I hadn’t been in the backyard...”
“Oh.”
It had been a while since Nick had felt quite this stupid. It wasn’t so much that he’d forgotten what Ben had lost in the blast, but rather that it had gotten buried under the important part. That Ben had survived it. Though now Nick started to wonder if he’d subconsciously helped bury that info in his brain. Had he been looking for an excuse not to call? Sitting down across from Ben now he found it hard to remember why. God, his insides were a mess. And he needed to say something other than Oh.
“I thought you weren’t that interested.” Wow, that had come out needy.
“And you were too proud to find out?” Ben sounded hurt by that. Or was that wishful thinking?
“You know where I live,” Nick said defensively.
“Yeah, and have you ever tried to get into that penthouse of yours without an invitation? It’s fucking Fort Knox.” But before Nick could reply, Ben shook his head and said, “But that’s not why I’m here.”
And with that, things shifted to work, and Nick was able to breathe again and get his brain into gear. Sort of. At least enough to listen to what Ben had to say, and to wonder idly if Ben could possibly be the solution to his mole dilemma. Though the fact that not contacting Nick hadn’t been Ben’s first choice or even his second kept ghosting through Nick’s brain, distracting him.
So, Ben had tried to visit after not hearing from Nick? And, of course, at the time Nick hadn’t whitelisted him because no one was supposed to know that Ben was still alive after the bomb attack. But he really should have done it after. He wasn’t usually that scatterbrained. Or thoughtless. Was Ma right? Was he avoiding something? With that, his inner monologue had come full circle. God, he needed time to think.
But Ben was talking, and apparently asking Nick’s professional advice. Which meant that Nick had to be professional, get his brain in gear, and pay attention to what Ben was saying, not to what he was doing to Nick.
Chapter Six
Ben
Thursday
Ben kept watching Nick’s face as he told him about Mrs. Chen’s little business connection, hoping for another flicker of the vulnerability that had surprised Ben earlier. But for now, at least, the Agent Marshall mask was firmly in place.
Not for the first time Ben wondered how Nick did it; how he could switch so effortlessly between totally open and totally shuttered. It didn’t seem real.
Nick didn’t say anything when Ben finished, just sat there, staring at the glass in his hand, now and then tilting it a bit, so the liquid would catch the light. Quiet, mellow jazz from the ceiling speakers settled like a cloak around them.
“You’re not going to tell me that this isn’t someone laundering money, are you?” Ben finally asked.
“Very small-scale.” Nick sounded far away, absorbed in something Ben couldn’t see.
“Not that small-scale. Think of all the other people my acquaintance mentioned; at least ten. And there may be more that are being roped into the same thing.”
The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked up, triggering a pang of annoyance that he thought this funny, and at the same time the urge to kiss that very spot. Shit.
“What?” Ben challenged him. “If it isn’t about millions it’s not worth your time? Smaller sums have led to worse things. And there certainly seems to be a large enough number of people to add up to something. Zhao has probably contacted other groups we don’t even know of. Most of them likely unaware of what they’re involved in.”
Nick’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, talk to your acquaintance.”
Oh, that was what had amused him? Ben’s anger mellowed. He had to admit that he was a little cloak-and-dagger about the whole thing, but he didn’t want to get Mrs. Chen or Corey into trouble.
“Tell them what you suspect, and that now is a good time to drop it,” Nick continued. “Let them spread the word. Anyone who continues won’t be quite so innocent anymore, will they?”
“I don’t know. At best they won’t have believed a stranger,” Ben said.
Nick downed the last of his whiskey and set the glass down with a note of finality. “Fine. I’ll try to look into it. Just make sure you don’t.” That last was said with an authority that made Ben’s hackles rise automatically.
Or what? was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. That would be childish, but it still rubbed him the wrong way, so he attacked the other half of Nick’s statement instead. “You’ll try?”
“I’m a little busy at the moment.” Nick was signing his room number to the check, and not looking at Ben.
“Oh, right.” Ben finished his beer and got up, shoving a ten under his coaster. “With a more worthy million-dollar crime.”
“Exactly.” Nick, too, got up. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I’m not driving. I’ll hail a cab.”
“Ben—”
The single word came out more softly, but Ben’s next words had already left his lips: “You don’t give a shit about these people.” It was more the frustration of not getting through to Nick than actual anger that made him say it. He really wanted to react to Nick’s softer note, but things said out loud were impossible to take back.
“What do you expect me to do?” Nick’s temper was audibly fraying around the edges now. “The second I get officially involved, the people you care about so much are officially involved with the FBI. For good or bad. I bet not all of them would be happy about that. So tell me. What do you want?”
You, Ben thought, melting against me with your eyes closed. His mouth was dry, despite the beer he’d just drunk. Out loud he said, “I want to be sure you won’t forget about this the second you go back to whatever it is you’re working on. And, yes, I know, it’s probably classified.” The last bit was supposed to have been a stinger, but Ben’s heart wasn’t in the fight anymore. Ben’s heart wanted something completely different. “Before the law, what these people are doing may be interpreted as aiding and abetting, but as far as I’m concerned, they’re victims. They’ve fallen for a lie. And yes, I do care.”
Nick murmured something that sounded like, “It’s what you do best.” But he’d already half turned toward the door, so Ben wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
He followed Nick out of the bar into the carpeted hallway that led to the lobby. That soft Ben earlier had rattled something loose in him he’d thought firmly tied down. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind about not needing another asshole in his life; that was still a solid no. The question was, was Nick that asshole? He was very good at his job, and he was probably right about people not wanting to be involved with the police. At least some of them had to realize that their little deal was a tiny bit too good to be true. That they at the very least should have asked more questions.
“So, what are you planning to do unofficially?” he asked quietly.
Nick stopped and turned. “I’ll look into Danny Zhao, shake the tree a little, see what drops out.” He searched Ben’s eyes for a moment, then nodded to himself, as if in answer to an inner argument, and added, “Has anyone mentioned the name Wang Lei Zhao to you?”
So the name Zhao had rung a bell with Nick. Without quite wanting to, Ben took a step toward Nick. “No, why?”
Nick’s eyes were wide and dark as he murmured, “Probably nothing.” He seemed to have lost his train of thought. In fact, he seemed to have lost it to the very need that made Ben suddenly breathless. All the other thoughts in Ben’s head quickly disappeared into the same hole.
One more step brought him squarely into Nick’s personal space. The hitch in Nick’s breath was not lost on him. Ben kept his hands at his sides when he nudged Nick against the wall with a turn of his body, Nick easily following the movement.
“You should have called,” Ben murmured, his lips a bare inch from Nick’s.
Nick made a sound that could have been agreement, or naked need. Either was fine with Ben. He nipped at Nick’s lips, which immediately opened with a groan that was definitely encouragement. It reverberated against Ben’s mouth and through his body like music.
His reservations, the hotel around him, everything disappeared, and the only thing left was Nick. Open. Waiting. Eyes like deep, dark pools.
Ben kissed him then, already anticipating the response, the melting of Nick’s body against his own, ready to hold him, to find that perfect symphony of movement he remembered. One hand in Nick’s hair, the other on his ass, Ben’s kiss deepened, his body’s response grew more desperate.
He suddenly realized where they were, and that someone could walk by any second. “Elevator,” he said in Nick’s ear. “Now.”
Eyes still on Ben, Nick reached out and slammed his flat hand on the call button to his right. Ben almost didn’t hear the ding over the seashell sound of rushing blood in his ears. He grabbed Nick by his tie, right under the knot, which elicited a desperate “Oh God” from Nick.
Body against body, Ben step-rolled the two of them around the corner and into the elevator cabin. “Which floor?”
“’Leven,” Nick slurred as if he was drunk.
Ben hit the button for the eleventh floor, and with the other hand still around Nick’s tie held him close. He needn’t have bothered. Nick was glued to him, following his every move. Sending a little prayer to whatever saint was responsible for elevators that no one else was going to get on, Ben wrapped his free hand around Nick’s neck and kissed him, slowly and deeply, relishing how pliable Nick felt against him, how easily he responded and how utterly he could give himself up to whatever Ben was doing to him. It was more heady and physical than powerful drugs, and Ben knew he was getting addicted with the speed of Nick’s heartbeat against his chest.
They were lucky; the cabin stayed theirs for the duration. Though if anyone checked the security footage before it was erased, they’d be in for a show.
“Key?” Ben demanded once they reached Nick’s floor. Nick silently reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and handed Ben the key card. Room 1175. Left side, three doors up.
Swiping the card, pushing the door open with his shoulders and leading Nick through was one swift move. The door fell to with an audible click, and Ben set the slider to Do Not Disturb.
He pushed Nick against the wall and growled, “Now you’re mine. What do you think I should do with you?”
Nick’s head fell back, exposing his throat. “Anything you want,” he whispered. “Just, please, don’t stop.”
“I wasn’t intending to.”
The knot of Nick’s tie was pulled tight, but Ben managed to open the loop wide enough to get it over Nick’s head. He pushed the suit jacket off those gorgeous boxer shoulders, then one by one opened the buttons on Nick’s shirt and sent it after the jacket. The white T-shirt underneath outlined a nice set of pecs, and nipples as hard as small pebbles. Ben raked a nail over one, and the answering moan from Nick went straight to his dick. Damn, he could definitely get used to this. He did the same thing on the other side, and the moan from Nick hitched a note higher.
Nick’s eyes were closed; a strand of his dark hair had fallen across his forehead, giving him a tousled, wanton look. Admiring the view, Ben traced the tips of his fingers along Nick’s jaw, then down his stretched throat. There was something so sensual about a man’s naked throat.
Ben kissed the jawbone, then let his tongue follow the trail his fingers had started. His pants were feeling too tight, and he leaned against Nick’s hip to get a bit more pressure. He liked this ultra-slow approach that Nick had first introduced him to, but had no idea how long he’d be able to keep it up. He wanted it all, the sounds Nick made, the feel of him against Ben’s hands and body, the way he lost himself in the moment. But he also really, really needed to take it further.
Kissing his way along Nick’s jaw, he opened the button and fly on Nick’s suit pants and palmed him through the silky briefs.
Nick’s lips parted on a low groan, and Ben nipped briefly at them before diving into a deep kiss, sucking, licking, tasting whiskey, and feeling the echo of that kiss reverberating through his body, pulling his skin tight, and making his throat feel dry.
He leaned back just enough to look at Nick’s face, the shadows his lashes threw, the cut jawline. He had clearly shaved before meeting Ben, and that gave Ben’s heart a thump in a completely different way. He reached out to kill the overhead lamp, and in the glimmer of the city lights below, pulled Nick’s arms up over his head, held his wrists against the wall with one hand, and with the other pushed the T-shirt up, then, letting go as briefly as possible, removed it and tossed it on the floor.
Nick’s chest heaved with the harsh breaths he was taking. Eyes still closed, arms still up, he stood waiting for whatever Ben would do next. God, he was beautiful.
Ben ran both hands down that powerful chest, across the taut abdomen, and down both hips, stripping off pants and boxers and socks and, as Nick lifted each foot, removed every last thread of clothing until Nick stood naked against the wall, arms high as if held by some invisible force, and his beautiful cock pointing straight at Ben.
There was no thinking involved when Ben knelt at his feet, and pulled that cock into his mouth as far as he could.
“Oh Gawd.” Nick’s voice was raspy, his hips jerked forward, and Ben tasted precome on his tongue. Reluctantly he disengaged and stood up again. He didn’t want Nick to come just yet. Or himself, which was a decided possibility. Because this? This was hot as hell.
One by one, he pulled Nick’s arms down, led him to the queen bed, and pushed him backward onto the covers.
The breath Nick released sounded like, “Please...”
“Sshhh, don’t move. Just tell me that you have condoms.”
“Wallet,” Nick mumbled. “Jacket.”
Ben found a simple black leather wallet in the inside jacket, and inside a single condom and sleeve of lube. Bull’s-eye!
Turning back, he was again struck by the beauty of Nick’s body stretched out on the bed, vulnerable, trusting, squirming just a little bit with impatience. And, oh yeah, Ben was with him on that.
“Too bad these hotel beds don’t have any headboards for ties,” he murmured, as he undid his belt and fly.
Nick gasped, like a man resurfacing after holding his breath under water. His eyes regained their focus, and he jumped off the bed. Stumbling against Ben, he grabbed both Ben’s shoulders and shoved him away so hard that Ben had to take a step backward in order not to fall.
“Get out!” Nick said, his voice harsh, almost vicious, a frown line between confused eyes. Then he turned and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Ben, breathing hard, listening to the click of the lock, rubbed the spot on his chest where Nick’s elbow had connected, and stared at the door he’d disappeared through.
What the fuck had just happened?
Chapter Seven
Nick
Thursday-Friday
Nick grabbed the bathrobe off the hook on the door and wrapped himself up, tying the belt hard around his waist. In his haste to get away from Ben, he hadn’t stopped for his clothes, and he felt way too exposed.
It had been a blind, unthinking bolt. There wasn’t enough space in the bathroom to pace, so he stood by the door listening. His hands were shaking. He swore softly and sank them into his pockets. But it wasn’t just his hands. His whole body was tense and vibrating. Everywhere. He tried to swallow through a very tight throat. How was he still hard after that, that disaster?
Because you didn’t want to get away.
What the hell had just happened? He’d met with Ben to warn him away from the case. Or maybe tap his brain. How had he gotten from there to very nearly being fucked in a hotel bed? No, worse. Way worse. Being tied up in a hotel by a veritable stranger for sex was how murder cases started. Part of Nick’s brain was trying to tell him that this was Ben, not a stranger, and that there’d been no danger of murder or even violence, but that part didn’t stand a chance against the flood of visuals that had somehow been unleashed.
The sound of the heavier room door falling closed and locking broke him out of his freeze. He slowly opened the bathroom door and stepped through. Empty. Ben was gone. Nick could feel the adrenaline draining from his system, and had to swallow the usual maudlin sadness it tended to leave behind.
Ben had wanted to tie him up. But that wasn’t even the absolute worst part of the whole incident, the thing that had made Nick jump up in a panic. The worst part was the instant powerful surge of desire that had swept through Nick’s body and made his cock quiver. He had wanted to be tied up. Then and now! Jesus Christ!
