“Dave?” Ford remembered the failed blind date he’d arranged when Sam and Adam had been broken up.
The growl that came from Adam was loud in the room and pushed Ford into fits of laughter.
“Don’t be an idiot, Adam,” Ford scolded. “If he wants to set Dave up with Nash, obviously he’s not interested. It didn’t work out in the first place, and that was back when Sam hated you.”
Sam turned toward Adam and lowered his head onto Adam’s shoulder. “I never hated you.”
Adam leaned forward and kissed him. It was quick, chaste, but showed exactly how much Adam loved Sam.
“I think I can manage my own dates,” Nash said when all eyes turned back to him. “Thanks, though.”
“Well, let me know. That guy was super hot,” Sam teased as Adam swatted at him.
All at once the wine hit him, and Ford felt like he could barely keep his eyes open. Sleep was hard to come by most nights, so taking advantage of it was high on his list. Ford stood, stretching. “I should get going.”
“So soon?” Sam asked.
“Yeah. It’s been a long week, and I’m afraid if I don’t leave now, I never will.”
“We’d be okay with that,” Sam said, standing and pulling Ford into his arms for a tight hug. “We both love you.”
Ford snickered. It was adorable how affectionate Sam got when he was drunk. “I know, Sam. I love you too, but somehow I don’t think Adam had adoption in mind when he invited me here tonight.”
He turned to Adam. “Make sure he drinks at least three glasses of water before bed. And you might want some aspirin close by for the morning.”
Adam lifted one eyebrow. “Thanks for the tip. I had no idea, being that I have no medical training whatsoever.”
“Don’t be a smartass. I was just reminding you.”
“We’re good, but thanks. I’ll walk you out.”
“I should get going too.”
Nash stood and walked with them toward the door. Sam followed close behind, and when Nash slipped his shoes on, Sam threw his arms around him and hugged him.
“Thank you for coming. And thank you for being Adam’s partner. You’re a good kid.”
“Kid?” Nash asked sardonically.
“Oh, you know what I mean.” Sam let go and backed up until he bumped into Adam, who was standing behind him.
“I do. Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time,” Nash said.
“We did too. You’re family now. You come back anytime,” Sam assured him.
Ford was already standing outside the apartment door when Nash turned, having thanked Sam and Adam one last time for hosting. They waved good-bye and headed to the elevator together.
“Do you want to share a cab?” Nash asked.
“No, that’s all right. I live close enough to walk. I could use the fresh air anyway.”
“I’ll walk you, then,” Nash said.
Ford insisted he was fine, but Nash didn’t budge. Too tired to argue, Ford let it slide. It was only a few blocks.
They stepped out onto the street, and Nash shoved his hands into his pockets. Ford breathed in, inhaling the smell of the pavement and the rain that had fallen while they’d been inside. Everything smelled fresh and new, with a hint of salt from the ocean.
“So I’m guessing what we saw tonight isn’t the typical Sam,” Nash started.
“Uh, definitely not. Sam is quiet, kind of introverted, and he hates people. He also can’t hold his liquor.”
“He and Adam have a good thing.”
“They do. They went through a lot to get there, though.”
“Yeah, Adam gave me the overview.”
“So they deserve the happiness they have. More, even.”
“It must have been difficult to watch your friends go through that.”
“It was. I didn’t know Adam as well then as I do now, but Sam has been my best friend since we met. All I could do was stand by and watch him get his heart destroyed. I wanted to break Adam’s face, but he eventually got his shit together and figured it out.”
“He seems like a smart enough guy, but I guess even the smartest guys can be complete dickheads sometimes,” Nash said.
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
Nash shrugged, but Ford didn’t push. He definitely wanted to. There was something about Nash, some sort of mysterious quality to him, but wrapped up in this wholesome boy-next-door façade that made Ford want to dig around inside his head. But he’d just met the guy, for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t have let Nash walk him home. His judgment was clouded by all the wine, and the warm, glowy feeling that suffused his chest had to be from the alcohol.
“This is me,” Ford said, slowing down outside his building. He was grateful it’d only been a short walk. Any more time spent with Nash and he was likely to do something very stupid. He couldn’t let himself get caught up like that.
The street was quiet, save for the gentle rustling of what leaves were left on the trees that dotted the sidewalks, and Nash stood there, looking at him with something unreadable in his dark green eyes.
“Thank you for walking me home.” Ford fidgeted with his keys to have something to do with his hands.
“You’re very welcome. It’s a nice night for a walk anyway.”
Ford was staring at his mouth. He tore his gaze away, forcing himself to meet Nash’s eyes. Silence stretched between them, along with a spark of something else.
Ford faltered for a moment, losing his grip on his keys. They clattered to the sidewalk.
“Fuck,” he muttered as Nash bent down to retrieve them.
“Here,” Nash said, handing them back to him, his hands lingering against Ford’s.
Ford tried to thank him, but the words caught in his throat. The warmth of Nash’s hands against his own stalled any thoughts he had. He was frozen in that moment, caught there, knowing what was about to happen was incredibly stupid and yet unable to do a fucking thing to stop it.
Nash’s hand slid up Ford’s wrist, his grip tightening as he gently tugged Ford forward. His other hand slid along Ford’s jaw, his thumb stroking softly near Ford’s ear. Ford pressed closer. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched. It had been so long. And then Nash’s mouth was on his, and Ford didn’t know if anything had ever felt as good as this.
Ford kissed him back, tasting the sweetness of the cobbler and the spices of the wine. Nash held him tighter, lining their bodies up and devouring Ford’s mouth as he kissed him.
Ford whimpered, the sound needy and broken, coming somewhere from deep inside him. He wanted this so badly. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anything so much. The way Nash kissed him was instantly addictive, and Ford wanted more. He slid his hands underneath Nash’s T-shirt, feeling the smooth tightness of his muscles and the way they moved as Nash walked them backward.
Ford’s back collided with the side of the building. They were tucked away in the shadows, the whole city seemingly asleep as Nash erased all thoughts of anything else from Ford’s mind.
It was so good and not enough, and any second now, Ford would lose himself completely….
“Shit,” he muttered, pushing Nash gently back.
Nash stared at him for a second, his pupils blown, his chest heaving. Guilt took root, settling deep in Ford’s bones as he watched the confusion cross Nash’s face.
“I’m so sorry, Nash. I shouldn’t have… I got caught up for a minute, but I can’t. I shouldn’t have let you… I’m sorry.” Ford didn’t have the words to explain why, his words as jumbled as his thoughts. “I have to go.”
He unlocked the door and escaped inside, leaving Nash dumbfounded and alone on the sidewalk.
THE CITY
was quiet. The radios were silent, and both crews were sitting in their quarters waiting for the next call to come through. Since their shift started at 6:00 p.m., Adam and Nash had done only one call—an old man who had fallen down in the grocery store—but nothing else had come through for almost two hours.
The stillness was disconcerting. Nash felt on edge and jumpy. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with Ford and how one moment he’d been so utterly turned on, and then next, Ford had pushed him away and run.
He had tried not to take it personally. He’d been there, and Ford had been as into it as he was. Something had spooked him, but Nash could be patient if he needed to. Ford intrigued him, more than anyone he’d met in a long time, and if Ford was willing, Nash wanted to see where things would go.
The sound of the radio broke through his thoughts and spurred them into action. Dispatch requested both crews for multiple pediatric victims and informed them the supervisor was already en route. Whatever situation they were heading into, it wasn’t going to be good.
Adam was driving, breaking at least three land-speed records as he weaved sharply in and out of the heavy downtown traffic to the churchyard a few blocks from the hospital. The dispatcher had very limited information—at least two patients, serious hemorrhage, level of consciousness unknown.
Nash braced himself.
He hated calls that involved kids. It was the one scenario he’d never gotten used to. As much as he tried to mentally prepare himself, it was a kick in the guts every single time, and there was nothing that would ever make it easier. It affected him without fail, but he had a job to do, so getting himself worked up before he even got there wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Adam drove past the police cruisers parked at the intersection and pulled the car up to the front of the church, leaving room behind them for Rob and Caleb. They piled out, then grabbed their kits, hurrying through the small crowd of bystanders the cops were keeping back from the scene.
Even without having seen the patients, Nash suspected this call was going to attract media coverage as well. He huffed a sigh. He hated dealing with the media. Although they weren’t permitted inside the police tape, they made the process more complicated. Having to protect the patient’s privacy was difficult enough with a mob of people, without having cameras added into the mix.
Adam followed behind him, and Nash snapped into professional mode, listening to the scattered details rattled off by the cop who met them as they moved toward the side of the church. When they rounded the corner, Nash spotted the two boys huddled against the brick-red wall of the church, blood soaking the ground beneath them. One boy sat holding the other much smaller child against him. Blood matted their hair, and their faces were dirty. Tears streaked the older boy’s cheeks.
Nash approached them before dropping to his knees to see them on their level.
“My name’s Nash. I’m a paramedic, and I’m here to help you,” he said as calmly and soothingly as he could. The boys didn’t look to be very old—fourteen at most. The amount of blood soaking both of them was staggering, and Nash had never seen a patient clinging so desperately to someone else before. The pale gray color of the smaller boy’s skin convinced Nash there was likely nothing that could be done for him. Limbs hung limply as his friend clutched him to his chest.
Adam crouched down next to Nash.
The boy’s eyes were wide, almost feral in the dim light of the setting sun. Nash inched closer, and the boy narrowed his eyes but didn’t move. Nash reached forward and set two fingers against the side of the smaller boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When his gloved fingers touched the cold skin, he knew instantly there was no chance of saving this boy. He didn’t know what kind of shape the other was in and turned to look at Adam, conveying as much as he could with one look.
Nash faced their patients once more, and he saw Caleb and Rob walking across the grass toward them. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.
The boy stared at him but remained silent.
“This is my friend Adam. We’re going to help you, okay?”
Adam reached down to pull the smaller boy from the other’s arms. When he stepped back, Nash moved forward to keep the kid sitting when he tried to stand.
“Hold up. It’s okay. I want to look you over. We’re going to take you to the hospital, but we need to make sure you don’t need any help right now before we put you in the ambulance.”
Rob and Caleb were there, standing over Nash in case he needed their assistance. They went through the protocol, checking off steps one by one, looking for injury, taking vitals, and completing the necessary forms. The older boy didn’t speak, and he carried no identification. He was thin—too thin—and his lips were tinged a pale blue.
Nash helped him to the ambulance and stripped him down, checking him over, then covered him with blankets. His body appeared to be severely underfed and wearing evidence of prolonged drug use on his arms; the kid was in rough shape, rougher shape than someone his age should be. Without being able to communicate, he guessed the kid to be about thirteen, and since he wasn’t certain, he refrained from starting an IV.
They’d put one in at the hospital, and there was a small part of Nash that felt relief over not having to be the one to put this kid through any more pain, however minor.
He was helping Rob secure the ambulance for transport when Adam poked his head into the back. Nash looked up, and seeing the expression on Adam’s face, he climbed out of the ambulance and around the side where they could talk without the patient overhearing.
“It’s bad, Nash.”
“I know,” he agreed softly.
“No, it’s really bad. The other kid… he’s gone. But he’s all carved up, same as the last few. The cops called CSU in to process the scene, and Dex is on his way to examine the body.”
A series of murders had taken place in the city over the previous year, the victims all between the ages of nine and fifteen. Each time the bodies had been dumped in an alley or an empty lot, abused and naked, a symbol carved into their chests.
When the first body had surfaced, the cops arrested someone, assuming they’d caught the murderer. Everyone had breathed a little easier, but when a second body appeared while they had the guy in custody, it became clear that the cops missed something. As far as the city was concerned, the killer was still very much at large, and bodies turned up every couple of months.
Whoever was killing these kids was scarily evasive. Since the first murder, there’d been next to nothing to go on, and people were becoming more and more paranoid with each body discovered.