A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM) (27 page)

“Aaron—”

“Did I miss anything?”

“Please,” he snapped. “The Wells part was all for show. He didn’t even fuck me; he just wanted to rattle your cage.”

“And you let him?”

Jaden’s eyes filled fast.

“Have you always hated me, or is it new?”

“I don’t hate you,” he rasped, his voice heavy with tears.

“Then I don’t get it. What was your intent?”

His gaze flicked to me and then returned to Aaron. “I wanted you to see me again, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.”

“No,” he agreed. “We’re done, except….”

“Except what?”

“Do you want to be a sous chef at Cabo, like you professed you wanted to, or not?”

His eyes were riveted on Aaron. “You would still let me work at your restaurant in Vegas?”

“It’s not mine, its Madeline’s,” he replied smoothly. “It’s her restaurant.”

“She’s the head chef, Aaron, but it’s yours.”

He shrugged. “She liked you, saw potential. She said you were lazy, but she thought she could fix that, and being pretty, she says, never hurts a chef. It’s how they get TV shows on Bravo.”

He sat up and tipped his head as the tears rolled down his cheeks. “Jesus, Aaron, what’s with all this white-hat bullshit? Since when are you the hero?”

“He’s always been the hero,” I chimed in. “You were just too busy being kept to notice.”

The look he turned on me was murderous. “And you’re not?”

“I’m a homicide detective,” I explained. “I work for a living.”

The way his mouth fell open was almost comical.

“So?” Aaron pressed until Jaden’s focus shifted from me to him. “Do you want to work at Cabo or not?”

“I do.”

“Good. I’ll have Miguel take you to the airport.”

“Aaron, I—”

“And get you a plane ticket.”

“Thank you.” He caught his breath. “Please come see me if you’re ever in Vegas.”

“If I am,” Aaron said, slumping in his seat, resting his head on my shoulder, “I will.”

But what were the chances when we had the whole world to see?

A
S
IT
turned out, Aaron’s insistence I go to the hospital was warranted. I was dehydrated and needed food because my body started to shut down. It was why I couldn’t regulate my body temperature. What was nice was Aaron stayed with me the whole time, hovering, making the staff insane with his demands; he asked so many questions my doctor finally yelled and told Aaron yes, he could take me out for a steak when we were done.

We weren’t allowed to leave until the evening. Between the endless bags of saline, and the other of glucose, it was hours before my body regulated itself. Aaron fell asleep in the recliner—what passed for one in a hospital—beside my bed. He didn’t let go of my hand, though, even when he started to snore. When Miguel came in, he was stunned.

“What?”

He gestured at Aaron.

“He’s tired.”

He turned to me. “I know, but normally he would work through that. He tends to go until he’s such a prick I want to put a bullet in his head.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” I said coolly. “I like him all living.”

“No, of—don’t you get it? That’s you right there. He just wants to sit beside your bed and hold your hand. He’s never done that before. He’s never slowed down for anybody.”

“Even for—” But I stopped myself before I got out the name. I was jealous of what he’d felt for Jory, and I needed to get over it because Sam Kage’s partner was a memory, and I was Aaron’s present and future.

“Yes,” Miguel answered. “Even for Mr. Harcourt. There’s a difference between wanting someone because you can’t have them and wanting someone because you’re in love. I’ve been with him longer than anyone; I can speak to the difference.”

I squinted. “You love him.”

“I do, but not how you think.” He chuckled. “He’s my boss. He takes care of more people than you can even imagine across entire continents. We’re all very happy to work for the man. We would follow him anywhere.”

I was surprised. “In the papers and stuff, all you ever read about is him being a playboy.”

“Yeah, but that’s the same stuff they say about Batman.”

My smile was huge. “Oh yeah? Batman?”

He waggled his eyebrows at me. “He doesn’t have a cool lair or gadgets, but when you see him wheel and deal and save schools and libraries and put up green factories in small towns to create jobs and not kill the environment in the process… you’ll get it.”

“So you’re saying he’s actually a good guy.”

“He’s the best guy, but he’s also a selfish asshole.”

“And possessive and smothering,” Aaron added without opening his eyes. “If you guys are gonna talk about me, you should do it somewhere I can’t hear.”

I squeezed his hand, and he leaned forward, kissed my knuckles, and then returned to his reclining position.

“Now please shut the hell up so I can nap.”

I noticed he had left his phone, turned off, beside my hip. “Don’t you have people to call?”

“No. Not right now.”

Miguel could not have looked any more surprised, even as he smiled and nodded. Apparently, he was enjoying seeing the billionaire at rest.

O
N
THE
plane flying home, after wine and steaks and baked potatoes with all the fixings, Aaron passed out on the couch. I sat, leaning back, and he basically used me as a pillow, while I talked to Agent Summers.

“We picked up Mr. Wells trying to cross the border into Mexico. Mr. McCall had a one-way ticket booked for Paris, but he’s in custody as well, thanks to your partner.”

I had called Jimmy, and he had gotten right on top of finding McCall.

She coughed significantly. “Detective O’Meara does his police work somewhat outside the box.”

“Which is a nice way of saying you liked his results,” I interpreted with a laugh, “but his methods scared the crap out of you.”

“Not scared,” she hedged. “More, was appalled by.”

“Yeah, well.”

“He sort of kicks down doors and takes no prisoners,” she offered.

“Yep,” I agreed. “But no one will say a word about him. They wouldn’t dare.”

“And are you the same way, Detective?”

“Depends on the case, Agent,” I answered honestly.

She didn’t ask any more questions after that.

A
ARON
wanted our cohabitation to begin immediately. When we landed in Chicago, I grumbled to him that I needed to sleep in my own bed. “But you’re invited,” I offered.

“That’s very sweet.” He smiled. “But may I simply ask you what good things have ever happened to you in that loft?”

“It’s home.”

He put his hand over his heart. “No, wherever I am is home.”

And because that made sense, I said okay to moving in right that second.

The kiss I got sealed the deal.

A
STRID
was so sorry. She kept looking at me, her eyes all soft and wounded. Max was upset, the clench of his jaw told me so even though he hadn’t said a word.

“You guys shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

Astrid pursed her lips together tight.

“Yes,” Max agreed tightly.

We all heard the front door open and Aaron called out to me. “I hope you’re ready, because I’m just changing, and then we’re picking up Max and—”

“We’re here already.” Max forced a smile for his brother as he charged into the room.

Aaron was always gorgeous in a suit—in anything, really—but in a three-piece, like he was wearing today, I would have bent over for him anywhere, any time. Something so hot about him all buttoned down when I knew what his body could really do.

“Hi, Aaron,” Astrid Takahashi greeted him, blushing because she was still getting used to calling the real estate mogul by his first name. She and Max had been dating for six months, and in that time, she had gone from being a faceless ASA, Assistant State’s Attorney, to the girlfriend of the gay billionaire’s little brother. The one thing she said she missed was not being able to get Starbucks in her sweats anymore. She really hated putting on make-up to go to the gym.

“Hi,” he answered, giving her a trace of a smile, not really focusing, distracted….

“Hey.” I smiled, shoving one of our cook’s potato pierogies into my mouth from the bowl I held in my hand. She made them for me by the ton now that she knew how much I loved them.

Aaron had instituted changes in my life, but I’d made adjustments to his as well. For one, he made me stop making my own breakfast in the morning because I didn’t want to bother the cook. What I had failed to realize was I was hurting her feelings by doing it myself. Mrs. Kappel wanted to feed me; I needed to let her. So suddenly I had someone making my meals for me, and I, in turn, changed where Aaron ate.

No longer did we have breakfast on the patio or in the salon. We ate in the kitchen with Mrs. Kappel. She slid crepes off the pan right onto our plates and spooned on the butter and dusted them with powdered sugar. It was fun to watch her fuss over Aaron and tell me what a good eater I was. Sometimes Miguel would join us, and that was nice too.

“So what’s your costume for the Halloween party?” Astrid queried Aaron.

“I’m a—sorry.” He crossed quickly to me, peeling off his topcoat and dropping it on the back of the couch on his way. “What are you… what do you have on?”

I was wearing a ruffled shirt, a thick leather belt, and black breeches tucked into knee-length black leather boots. A real sword hung from a scabbard at my side. The answer to the question was obvious. “This is the pirate costume you got me.”

His breath rushed out. “I-I don’t remember it looking like that.”

“I didn’t put this on when it was delivered; you said it wasn’t necessary because your tailor made everything with the measurements you sent him.”

“I did?”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” I murmured.

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, it was right after we went to court and testified against Mr. Wells and Nick McCall, so your mind was occupied with bigger issues.”

“Uh-huh.”

I grinned. “Max and Astrid are Romeo and Juliet.”

“Before,” Astrid added.

“That’s funny.”

“Thank you.” She beamed at me.

“May I speak to you upstairs a second?” Aaron asked, and his voice was low and husky.

“No,” I responded, licking the side of my mouth to catch a drop of filling. “We gotta hurry or we’re gonna be late for the event. Alzheimer’s is one of your pet projects, and since Sutter is hosting the benefit, you need to be there on time.”

“There’s a receiving line when you walk in,” Max apprised his brother. “Mr. Levin thought since Sutter was sponsoring it, and since we just purchased Armada and some members of their senior staff would be there—”

“Sure,” Aaron cut him off, his gaze sliding up and down my body.

“Aaron?”

“I,” he rasped, “don’t think that costume is supposed to look like that.”

“Like what?” I took a step forward and bumped his nose with mine before kissing him lightly.

“Oh,” Astrid whimpered and was suddenly bawling.

“For crissakes,” I mumbled, shoving the bowl at Aaron before turning from him and grabbing Astrid, crushing her to me.

“What’s going on?” Aaron demanded.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Go upstairs and change.”

“There’s obviously something,” he insisted, moving close to me, his hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, I can fix it.”

“Duncan’s father left a horrendous message on his voice mail,” Max blurted shakily. “Astrid and I didn’t mean to overhear it, but we came in unannounced and—”

“Wait,” Aaron stopped him, his gaze moving from her to me. “She’s upset for you?”

“Yes, because she has a really soft heart,” I murmured, lifting her chin and cupping her cheek so her eyes met mine. “Which, as I’ve told her on a number of occasions, is not going to serve her well as an ASA in the great city of Chicago. You need to toughen up, girlie.”

Instead of punching me or pinching me like she normally did, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed tight. “I’m so sorry your father is a homophobic prick,” she rushed out the words.

“Me too, doll.” I laughed in her ear, which made her squeal and pull away from me. “Now enough, already. Just let it go.”

“Okay.”

“Go fix your makeup,” I directed her before wheeling on Max. “And you, have a shot of something and perk up.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

My eyes were on Aaron next. “And you, go change. We gotta go.”

Before he could respond, I grabbed the bowl out of his hand, turned, and walked into the kitchen. The pierogi stuck to the roof of my mouth; I needed something to wash it down with. Drinking orange juice from the carton was bad, but since we didn’t have one—just a decanter, since Mrs. Kappel squeezed it fresh every day—I figured that was okay. When I closed the door of the Sub-Zero, Aaron was there.

“Yeah, I drank from it. So what?”

“What?”

“You know, the glass door on the thing is awesome,” I said playfully.

“I don’t give a fuck about the refrigerator!” he shouted. “I want to know what your fucking father had to say!”