The Two Gentlemen of Altona (Playing the Fool, #1) Page 17

  It couldn’t be.

  “I was just leaving,” Jeff said coldly. He was shaking. Actually shaking. And Mac didn’t know whether it was terrifying or funny to think that if Jeff pulled himself together long enough to actually look at the doctor, he’d realize exactly what was going on.

  “You can come back at eleven tomorrow,” the doctor said cheerfully.

  The accent was a little over the top.

  “Mac,” Jeff said. Mac looked at him. Jeff was red-faced, his jaw tight.

  In another second, Jeff would have to make the decision to kill the doctor too, or just walk away. Corrupt, but not a killer. Mac hoped there was a line there, hoped that Jeff saw it.

  Mac watched him warily, and wondered if he was thinking of his kids. The smart one, and the one who ate bittersweet berries. Wondered if he was thinking about what they’d think of him, how long their mom could keep something like this from them. Whether their daddy was going to be a man who made a mistake, or a murderer.

  Jeff sucked in a deep breath. Opened his mouth to speak, and nothing came out. Swallowed and tried again. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  He left.

  Thank fuck. Thank fuck thank fuck thank fuck.

  Henry turned around.

  “Nice coat.” Mac’s voice hitched.

  Henry lifted one edge of his lab coat. “This old thing?”

  “How do you do that?” Mac winced as he leaned over to grab his phone.

  “Do what?”

  “Disappear and then show up right in the nick of time.”

  “Practice. There’s also a guild you have to register with.”

  “Pass me my phone, please.”

  Mac was surprisingly calm as he told Val what had happened. Maybe he was hallucinating; maybe he was still in the woods. Because no way was Henry here. This was some crazy sort of final wish fulfillment, and any second now, a tunnel of light would open up, and Grandpa Jack would be there telling him to hurry up and close the damn gate behind him so the dogs didn’t get out.

  He put down the phone.

  “Not supposed to use your cell in a hospital, Mac.”

  Mac stared at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I came to see if you were all right.” Henry stepped forward hesitantly. “I mean, I had the lab coat lying around, and I figured if you weren’t dead, they’d take you here. So I was here to visit anyway, but then I saw Jeff downstairs, and he was kinda nervous and twitchy . . .”

  “Because he was about to come up and shoot me.”

  “Right. So I tried to follow him, but then this guy in room 128 had choked on his meatloaf, and the nurse needed—”

  “Tell me you didn’t—”

  “It was just a quick Heimlich.”

  Mac closed his eyes briefly.

  “I didn’t think Jeff was actually gonna shoot you here in a hospital.” Henry sounded defensive.

  “He had a gun pointed at my face for a solid five minutes while you were down there helping whoever the hell—”

  “Mr. Winston.”

  “Mr. Winston dislodge his dinner.”

  “I’m sorry.” Henry took off the glasses and set them on the counter. “I really didn’t think . . . You’re right. Were right. When you said this game’s too big for me. I do know it’s people’s lives. I really do. I shouldn’t’ve run. Not last night, not the night Pete got shot. And not while I was in your custody.”

  “No,” Mac agreed. “You shouldn’t’ve. Though last night— I don’t blame you.”

  “That was the worst one. That was when you needed me.”

  “There was nothing you could’ve done.”

  “I could’ve stayed with you till the cops came.” Henry took another step forward. “I’ll stick around this time. If, uh— I mean, if you still need me to testify.”

  “I still need you.”

  Henry was close enough to touch now, so Mac reached out, ignoring the pain, and brushed the fabric of the lab coat. A little kid playing dress-up. Or a hero. Or a criminal. Depending on how you looked at him.

  “You look good in that coat.”

  Henry grinned. Started to unbutton it. “You wanna see what’s underneath?”

  “Come here,” Mac ordered.

  Henry undid the last button and pulled the coat apart to reveal the green sweatshirt he’d found in the cabin. “I had to ditch your mom’s blouse. I’m sorry.” He glanced down. “But I’d love to keep this. As, like, an I Almost Got Boned in Altona souvenir.”

  Mac grabbed Henry’s belt and pulled him against the bed. Pain hit hard, a dark crush of it, but oh fucking well. Then Henry was on the bed, straddling him, leaning down for a kiss. And Mac was kissing him back, a new ache bursting in his chest. It occurred to him that keeping Henry in his life would probably mean feeling this way a lot.

  “Agent McGuinness? Agent McGuinness!” The local cop barreled into the room. Stopped.

  Henry pulled away from Mac, and they both looked up at her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Mac.

  Henry swung off the bed and straightened his coat. “The patient was choking on a bite of meatloaf. So I dislodged it. Second one tonight, would you believe it?”

  Mac tried to sit up. “Jeff Cavill?” he asked the cop. “Did security stop him?”

  The cop nodded. “Got him in the parking lot.”

  Mac grinned. “Well. I wouldn’t mind celebrating.” He looked at Henry, who’d attempted to rebutton the lab coat over his sweatshirt. Looked at the cop, whose mouth was open slightly. Mac stopped grinning. “By taking my meds, of course. I’ll just, uh, contact Agent Kimura and discuss the next step. After the doc and I finish this round.”

  The cop raised her eyebrows, but then turned and left. She shut the door behind her.

  “Val’s gonna call me any second,” Mac said. “You wanna finish this round?”

  Henry climbed back on the bed.

  Mac returned to work the next day, wearing his arm in a sling to take the weight off his shoulder and wincing at every breath. Mostly he’d come back to make sure Dean Maxfield was arrested, but also because his parents had traveled down from Altona after Val had called them. He was still pissed at Val for that. Okay, so his parents were listed as his next of kin, but come on, it wasn’t like he was going to die. They’d turned up at the hospital to drive him home, and hadn’t left. His mom had immediately taken over his house. She was convinced he was an invalid who couldn’t be trusted to use a washcloth without causing himself dire medical complications.

  “Mom, Jesus Christ!” he’d snapped that morning when she’d barged into the bathroom. “I’m thirty-one years old! I don’t need you to scrub my back!” Or any other part of him.

  His dad was more easily distracted. After satisfying himself that Mac was okay, he’d headed for the nearest John Deere dealership so, in his own words, at least it wasn’t a wasted trip to the city. His mom had gasped in outrage at that, but Mac wasn’t offended. He was glad it was a wasted trip, and that his dad was looking at tractors instead of caskets.

  Walking into work felt good. Well, apart from the stabbing pain in his chest whenever he tried to move, or talk, or breathe. Paula in reception almost burst into tears when she saw him, and Mac found himself genuinely touched.

  “Oh, Mac! Should you be here? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital?”

  “I already told you,” a voice said from underneath her desk. Henry’s head appeared. “He had the best medical care.”

  “Why are you under Paula’s desk?”

  “Her printer cable came loose. You guys should go wireless, you know? Everything these days is wireless.”

  “Thanks, Henry!” Paula hugged her arms to her ample chest. “God, I’m so happy to see you, Mac!”

  And then she did burst into tears.

  Mac left Henry to deal with her emotional fallout. It seemed like something Henry would be good with. He walked into the office, and straight into a briefing.

  SWAT guys were s
tanding around, listening intently as Calvin talked them through the map on the board. He smiled as he recognized the layout: Dean Maxfield’s house.

  “Mac.” Val nodded. “Glad you could join us.”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I’ll see it’s taken out of your pay.” Val threw him a quick grin. “Right. Let’s get back to work. Calvin’s taking the lead on this one, Mac.”

  Mac leaned against a desk and Penny joined him, throwing him a sympathetic look. “You want to be out there too, right?” she asked in an undertone.

  “Not the way I’m feeling right now. But yeah. I’d love to see the look on that asshole’s face when we arrest him.”

  Calvin kept the briefing short and sweet. Overthinking things wasn’t a problem for Calvin. Get in, get the bad guy, and get the fuck out. Within fifteen minutes, they were suited up and heading out.

  The office felt suddenly empty. Penny sat down at her desk and began working on something. Alex went and made coffee. Mac stared at the map of Maxfield’s house and tried not to worry about what could go wrong.

  “And this is why I make a better Special Agent in Charge than you,” Val told him.

  “Why?”

  “Because you hate it when you’re not where the action is.” Val leaned against him, then pulled back as Alex walked past. “Anyway. Jeff’s in custody. He’s admitted to telling Maxfield where you were so that Maxfield could order the hit.”

  He thought back to Quantico again. All those classes on ethics. No one had joined planning on becoming corrupt. They were all idealists back at Quantico. But it was a numbers game. Some of the people Mac had trained with, graduated with, some of them must have gone down that path. And there was no point wondering why.

  “Can I just tell you it was the money and shoot you in the face?”

  At some point, even an idealist could sell out.

  Thinking about Jeff left a sour taste in his mouth. He grunted.

  “He also admitted to telling Maxfield that Pete O’Flannery was planning on turning informant.”

  “Fuck.” Mac had never liked Pete, but he’d understood the guy. He’d recognized that Pete was at least a decent enough human being to put his daughter’s welfare over his own. To turn his back on Maxfield with the promise that he and his family would get into WITSEC, and his daughter would get into rehab instead of jail. And of course he’d known the danger. Mac had warned him. It’s just neither of them had expected it to come from the FBI.

  And nobody—nobody—had forced Jeff to make that decision. He could have shut his mouth, pretended he knew nothing, instead of selling Pete out to Maxfield.

  “It’s my fault, Mac, that I couldn’t keep you safe at the hospital. I should have known who it was.”

  Mac looked at Val. Her lips were clamped tightly together, with angry lines around them. “He fooled me too.”

  “I should have upped security. Made sure no one got into your room.”

  “He would have found a way in. Henry did.”

  “Henry’s a professional liar.”

  Mac massaged an ache in his shoulder. “So is Jeff, I guess.”

  Val sighed.

  Great. Nothing like focusing on a massive betrayal of trust to boost the mood.

  “So, Henry’s the new office boy now?” he asked, trying to lighten things up.

  Val made a face. “You know, I don’t even know what’s going on there. I offered him a safe house, at least until Maxfield’s in custody. He said no. Then he gave me cake, and told me a story about a giraffe, and somehow he’s still here.”

  He laughed, then winced at the pain. “Yeah, he does that.”

  Shit. Mac had worn a shirt on his head and performed Shakespeare with Henry. Which was something he was taking to his grave, thanks very much. But he couldn’t help smiling at the memory as well.

  “I think he’s staying in the hotel across the street,” Val said. “At least that’s what the receipts say. Somehow we’re already paying his expenses.”

  “Yeah, he does that too.” He looked up as Henry wandered into the office, chewing a candy bar. “Hey, Henry.”

  Henry approached. “How’s your heroic gunshot wound?” He raised his eyebrows at Val. “I told him he’d leap in front of a bullet to save me.”

  “You told me I’d die by leaping in front of a bullet to save you,” Mac corrected. “Anyway, that’s not how it happened.”

  “That’s true.” Henry licked his fingers. “Your way was much better. But next time can we try it without any bullets of any sort?”

  “Deal.” Mac watched him for a moment. “Your hair looks better.”

  The black dye was gone. Henry’s hair was brown again, close to the same shade it had been when they’d met. It suited him. Matched his eyes.

  “Thanks.” Henry pushed his glasses back up. “I thought I’d try and look a little more respectable for a while.”

  “The sort of guy who pays his taxes on time?”

  “Yeah, Mac. The sort of guy who respects authority.”

  My sort of guy.

  Mac held his gaze “Good luck convincing anyone of that.”

  “I aim to please.”

  Mac had a sudden vision of Henry pleasing him. In all sorts of ways.

  “O-kay,” Val said. “Well, I’m going to go to the bathroom before this gets wildly inappropriate. I’ll leave you to talk to the witness, Agent McGuinness.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Henry gave her a mock salute. “Aye aye, Bosslady!”

  Val rolled her eyes and walked away.

  There was a knock at the hotel room door, and Henry froze, his fingers on a blouse button. Unlike the Man Inn the Moon, this hotel had a peephole, which Henry made use of.

  He smiled as he saw Mac on the other side, distorted by the lens but still looking unmistakably awkward and shuffle-y.

  And brutishly strong and handsome and, if Henry was lucky, armed with a fully erect cock and a pair of cuffs.

  He opened the door. Mac’s gaze went immediately to Henry’s partially exposed chest.

  “I thought you said you ditched my mother’s blouse.”

  He finished fastening the buttons. “Sometimes I stretch the truth.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mac entered the room. Glanced around, and Henry could see the disapproval in his expression. All right, so the suite was a little bigger than one person technically needed . . . but on the plus side, plenty of places to fuck. “We need to address that at some point. And go over the definition of borrowing.”

  “Mac. Tell me you came here to have fun, not to lecture me.”

  “I came here—” Mac turned to face him again. “—to celebrate.”

  Henry grinned. “You got Maxfield.”

  “Oh, we got him.”

  He had never seen Mac look quite so triumphant. “In spite of me,” he said, hoping they were okay to joke about that.

  “Well.” Mac stuck his hands in his pockets. “You did save my life. So tonight belongs in part to you. However, I think this could have been a lot simpler and a lot less dangerous if you’d stayed put and given a statement when we brought you in. So you do owe me.”

  “Do I?”

  “Big time.”

  “Wish I’d thought to get some champagne. Hey, there’s a minib—”

  “Absolutely not. The Bureau is not footing that bill.”

  Henry put his hands in his pockets too, trying to see if he could imitate Mac’s posture. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

  “I am celebrating.” Mac’s voice was low. “Gonna treat myself to something I’ve wanted for a long time but couldn’t have.”

  “Cake?”

  Mac sat on the edge of the bed. “Take off my mother’s blouse. It’s too weird, seeing you in that when I’m thinking about doing filthy things to you.”

  Henry stepped toward him. “I was just trying it on to see if it might work for a disguise someday.” Not because I’m living in some Memories of You montage.

 
Mac tilted his head. “Why might you need a disguise someday, Henry?”

  Jesus. Mac sounded like bad cop and overzealous headmaster and investigative journalist all rolled into one. Henry started undoing the buttons just to avoid meeting Mac’s stare. “You never know, Mac.”

  “I guess you don’t.”

  Henry looked up. Mac’s voice was softer, and he was gazing at Henry’s chest. Henry shrugged the blouse off and tossed it on a chair. Stood there in just a pair of dark slacks and socks. He’d stopped by the Court yesterday. Remy hadn’t been in, but he’d managed to grab a few clothes.

  He still hadn’t gotten around to completing the errand he’d been attempting before Stacy had talked some sense into him. They’d been fifteen minutes from Zionsville before he’d told Stacy to go back toward Fort Wayne. He’d had to pay for the gas. And she’d cuffed him on the head again.

  “Come here.” Mac motioned.

  Henry swallowed and took another step forward. Mac took his wrists and drew him to the bed beside him. Henry leaned over so Mac wouldn’t have to and kissed him. Just once, just gently. Just to see if this was what Mac wanted.

  Mac grunted softly as he tried to follow Henry’s lips.

  “You sure you should exert yourself, big guy?”

  “I’m celebrating, Henry,” Mac reminded him. “Are you gonna piss on my parade?”

  “Not unless that’s something you’re into.” Henry kissed him again. Dropped to the floor and knelt between Mac’s legs. Fumbled with Mac’s fly. “Here. How about I do the heavy lifting?”

  Mac placed a hand on his.

  Henry looked up. “I charge a little extra to swallow.” The words were out before he could stop them, his grin manic and insincere—he could feel it.

  “Knock it off.”

  Henry hadn’t actually wanted to piss on the parade. Just, he felt self-conscious now. Mac was finally willing to fuck, but it was weird. Mac was hurt, and Henry was on his knees, and Henry didn’t get on his knees for anyone. Definitely not for the feds. “Did you read my juvie record, Mac?”