Hide And Keep

Hide

And

Keep

By

K. Sterling

Prologue

Unavailable

I will never stop loving you.

Chapter 1

“Sorry, GQ.” Chief grimaced as Lane got out of the car. Lane shook his head and shrugged as he leaned against the door. The day was unseasonably warm and he’d enjoyed the drive into town with the top down.

“It’s not like I had anything going on.” Lane said as he looked around the station parking lot. Chief gripped Lane’s shoulder.

“I feel bad, you haven’t had a weekend off in months. But this is important, Lane.” He paused to take a long drag off of his cigarette. “Clark Cabbot got the F.B.I. to loan him some special expert and he thinks this guy will make the Jeffries case an easy win.” Chief said and Lane frowned.

“What does any of this have to do with me? It wasn’t even my case.” Lane asked as he eyed Chief warily. Chief cringed and Lane knew he was going to hate what came next.

“Cabbot says this guy is a big deal and a little high maintenance. Says he requested a police escort at all times. Cabbot asked for you.” Chief explained. Lane shook his head as he silently swore he’d punch Clark in the throat next time he saw him. “You’re Head Detective, this is why you get the big bucks.” Chief teased and Lane glared at him.

“I don’t get paid to babysit suit's. Why couldn’t you pick someone lower in the food chain? I didn’t have plans for the weekend but that doesn’t mean I want to waste it kissing some D.C. douche bag’s ass.” He complained and chief nodded.

“I get that, Lane. But Cabbot wants this guy impressed and you’re more city than anyone else. Cabbot’s afraid he’ll get back on the plane if we send a uniform to get him. Just pick him up at the airport and get him settled. Show him around a little and help him get comfortable with the area so he can give Cabbot what he needs. If he ends up being an all right guy, maybe take him out to dinner a few times. You know where all the good places are. It’s not that big of a deal, just look at it as a favor. Make him feel welcomed and give him a friendly face at the precinct. This shouldn’t interfere with your life too much beyond this weekend.” Chief smiled tightly as he waited for Lane to agree. Lane swore under his breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I’m getting overtime for the whole weekend and I get reimbursed for everything.” He said as he stared at Chief.

“Fine.” Chief exhaled loudly and slapped Lane on the back. “You better get to the airport. He lands in less than two hours.” He added and Lane threw his hands up.

“And you tell me at the last minute. Never again.” He gave Chief a hard look. “What’s his name?” Lane asked as he pulled the car door open and sat. Chief leaned in.

“Something Sharp. Use this.” He said as he handed Lane a piece of paper with word
Sharp
written on it. Lane shook his head in disbelief. Chief laughed as he shut the door. “He’ll be looking for you. Cabbot sent him a picture.”

“Fucker. I’m going to kick his ass next time I see him.” Lane promised as he turned the car on. Chief nodded as he stepped back.

“If that’s what it takes.” He said as he turned away and waved over his shoulder as he headed toward the station.

Lane seethed all the way to Chicago. On the way he called Clark and called him every name he could think of and a few he’d invented. Clark listened and apologized before he told Lane he was at a barbecue with his family and would call him later. Lane called him a “Lousy cock sucking, limp dicked piece of shit” before he hung up. Lane was already at the end of his rope with Clark. He knew Clark hadn’t thought for a moment that Lane might say no. Clark was doing what he always did. He was going for what he wanted and stepping on everyone in the way. But Clark was a damned good District Attorney. If it weren’t for the fact that this particular favor was for the good of the city and probably, legitimately vital to bringing a particularly ruthless murderer to justice, Lane would have told Clark to fuck himself every way to Sunday and gone back home.

None of Lane’s frustrations had anything to do with their “relationship”, Lane insisted as Chicago drew closer. After two years of hooking up with Clark clandestinely, Lane had already decided he was through. In the beginning, he didn't care that Clark was married and so deep in the closet, he reeked of moth balls. It worked. Lane’s schedule didn’t really allow him time to date and his focus was always on work. Plus, Lane didn’t particularly like Clark. Or his wife. So, hooking up two or three times a week was convenient and mess free.

Things started to sour for Lane about six months into it. Clark let it slip that his wife was about to have a baby. That gnawed at Lane’s conscience. Not enough for him to stop taking Clark’s calls. Really, Lane had no other prospects for easy, strings free sex. But a month ago, Lane heard through the rumor mill that Clark’s wife was pregnant again. He didn’t bother to ask Clark, it wasn’t Lane’s business. He made excuses when Clark called then stopped taking Clark’s calls altogether.

Which only inflamed the things Lane really disliked about Clark and sex with Clark. Professionally, Clark was everywhere. It was obvious that he picked up on Lane’s efforts to distance himself and was trying to keep him in his orbit. Not because Clark cared. Clark didn’t like losing. If Clark cared, the sex would have been better. Instead, it was always about what Clark couldn’t get at home. As Lane started pulling back, the times they did have sex, Clark was more demanding and even less patient. Lane had a feeling this “favor” was classic Clark multi-tasking. Keep the F.B.I. guy happy and Lane too busy to enjoy his weekend off.

At the airport, it only took a few minutes for Lane to figure out which gate Sharp would be arriving at. He used his badge to get into the terminal just as passengers were starting to come off the jet bridge. He made eye contact with a few men in suit's only to have them rush by before his eyes connected with those of a younger, strikingly handsome man strolling casually at the end of the group.

Lane felt his body tighten as he watched him move. He was wearing a grey hoodie and his hands were shoved in the pockets. Lane quickly looked at the other arriving passengers, scanning for anyone that might be Sharp. People swept by in a hurry, nodding curtly as they pushed past. Once again, Lane’s eyes were drawn to the man at the end. Those eyes. They were endless. So light blue, they were almost silver, Lane felt as if he was being pulled into them. He forced his gaze down, noting wireless bluetooth headphones around the man's neck, hands deep in the hoodie pockets, resting against his stomach, jeans and low top, black Converse. What was it about this hipster college student that had Lane’s shirt sticking to his back and his pulse thudding in his ears?

Lane was half way in love by the time the man was a few strides away. He held his breath as he watched full, wide lips pull into a cocky grin. Lane looked around in confusion. Was he in the wrong terminal or did he miss Sharp while he was falling into a lust trance?

“I believe you’re looking for me.” Smooth and deep, the words slid through Lane and his heart started to beat more forcefully in his chest.
God, I wish,
Lane thought as he let his eyes spill over harsh cheek bones, a straight nose and a square jaw. This wasn’t a college student, he was in his mid to late twenties. His dark brown hair was long on top and cut short on the sides and fell over his brow, making him appear almost boyish despite a faint, two-ish day beard. Lane shook his head as he looked around. As much as Lane wished he had time for this insanely hot model, rocker, artist, whatever he was, Lane knew he had to get his head out of his pants and find Clark’s F.B.I. douche bag.

“Not unless you happen to be the Lake Cliff D.A.’s expert witness.” He mumbled as he turned and looked at the herd of passengers behind him.

“I’m Aiden Sharp, your D.A.’s witness.” He said and Lane’s head snapped around. Lane resisted the impulse to inform Sharp that Clark wasn’t
his
D.A. as he narrowed his eyes and studied the man before him.
Fuck my life. This can’t be the “special expert” from the F.B.I. that I’m supposed to spend the weekend with.
Lane clenched his jaw and willed his body to relax.

“Detective Lane West, Agent Sharp.” Lane said as he offered his hand. Sharp shook his head as his eyes swept over Lane before he pulled his hand from his pocket. The sleeve was pulled up, revealing a tattooed forearm covered in Hebrew script as Sharp took Lane's hand.

“I never went to the academy. I’m a doctor but I’d prefer that you just call me Aiden.” He shook Lane’s hand before he strode for the exit. Lane’s head pulled back in shock.

“Wait!” He called and Aiden stopped and turned. His brows were raised and he stared back. Lane frowned as he jogged to catch up. “Are we done here?” He asked as he gestured toward the sign directing them to the baggage claim. Aiden shrugged.

“I don’t have any luggage. I’m hungry. Can you take me to McDonald’s?” He asked as he turned and went for the door. Lane’s jaw fell. He felt as if he had been dismissed, that Aiden considered him to be nothing more than a chauffeur.

“You want me to take you to McDonald’s?” He asked incredulously. Aiden nodded as he looked over his shoulder at Lane.

“I haven’t eaten since last night.” He explained as he walked through the automatic doors. Lane squinted angrily at the late afternoon sun as he followed. “Can you take me to a mall after I eat? I need to go to The Gap. And a drug store.” Aiden asked as he let Lane pass and lead him through the parking lot. Lane felt his temper slipping. He didn’t care how hot this “doctor” was, he wasn't going to spend the weekend being treated like a taxi driver by some arrogant F.B.I. shit.

“I can get you a car to use while you’re here.” Lane offered and Aiden shook his head.

“I don’t drive.” He said and Lane threw him a dubious look. Aiden ignored it. “And I can’t go around alone.” Aiden explained as Lane nodded toward his car and pulled the keys from his pocket.

“This is your car?” Aiden asked as Lane went to the driver’s side. Lane looked at him impatiently and gestured for him to get in.

“Yes.” He said as he buckled his seatbelt. Lane started the car and waited for Aiden to settle into the passenger seat.

“This is a 1960 Mercedes-Benz 190SL. You can’t afford this on your salary.” Aiden said as he slid his hand over the red leather dashboard. Lane reached over and pushed Aiden’s hand off the dash.

“You don’t know what I can afford.” He said bluntly and put the car in Drive. He could feel Aiden’s eyes on him, the side of his face felt warm.

“I can guess your salary with reasonable accuracy.” Aiden said and Lane jumped then ducked when he felt Aiden’s hand pulling back the collar of his shirt. “Banana Republic. More reasonable on a detective’s salary.” He added. Lane glared out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you mind?” He asked as he leaned away. He saw Aiden shake his head dismissively.

“Expensive haircut and manicured nails.” Aiden observed. “Is this is how you think a gay man should look?” He asked. Lane’s head whipped toward Aiden and his mouth fell open.

“What?” Lane asked in shock. “Why would you assume I’m gay? Because I don’t wear bad suit's and put effort into my grooming?” He knew he sounded defensive. Aiden looked confused.

“I don’t make assumptions. You kept looking at my lips, your pupils dilated and your body temperature rose when we shook hands.
And
you don’t wear bad suit's and you put effort into your grooming.” He stated as he tilted his head so he could see more of Lane’s face. “Are you gay?” Aiden asked. Lane’s lips pulled in and he nodded stiffly. Aiden nodded as well. “Good. I’d like to have sex with you, if there’s time.” He said casually as he looked out at the street around the car. Lane gasped and forced his attention back to the road. He noticed that the light turned red and slammed on the brake.

“What’s wrong with you? Who says shit like that?” Lane asked loudly. Aiden shrugged.

“I do. I have Asperger’s syndrome. And I have no way of estimating who or how many people would say that.” He explained. Lane’s brows pulled together and he frowned at Aiden.

“So that means you can just say or do whatever you want?” He asked and Aiden shook his head as he studied the window.

“No. You’re unusually hostile toward me, Detective West.” Aiden stated. Lane managed not to laugh.

“I can’t imagine why.” He mumbled. Aiden’s head turned and his eyes searched Lane’s face.

“You can’t? I can.” He said before he turned back to the window. “Most people are generally hostile or are at least uncomfortable with me. I don’t say or do whatever I want. I say things without understanding why or how they might offend someone. Sometimes, I say things I don’t want to say. So, I’ve come to expect a certain level of hostility from people. But you seem more hostile than I’m used to. Which confuses me. Your demeanor suggested attraction and interest when I introduced myself and it quickly changed to dislike and that hostility. I don’t know what I did to warrant that.” There was a buzzing sound and Aiden pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned as he read.

Lane sighed as he stared at the road. Aiden’s observations about his effect on people were dead on but Lane had disliked Aiden as soon as he realized that he was Clark’s special errand, before Aiden had a chance to alienate him with his strange requests. He cringed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. Two hours ago I was at home, expecting a quiet, boring weekend. Now, I’m driving a filterless hipster to McDonalds.” Lane said as he pulled into the parking lot. Aiden frowned.

“And the mall. I need to buy clothes.” He reminded Lane. “Am I hipster?” Aiden seemed concerned and Lane laughed softly as he parked the car.

“I’m not exactly sure what you are but you definitely don’t look like a doctor.” He said as he got out. Aiden stepped out and his head tilted as he stared at Lane over the car.

“You don’t fit the stereotype of a detective. How old are you?” He asked as he came around the car and Lane followed him through the parking lot.

“Thirty-four.” Lane said as Aiden pulled the door open and let Lane pass through.

“Exactly. You’re young for your rank and you don’t look like a cop. I have a Ph.D. in psychology. I’m considered one of the best forensic psychologists in the world.” Aiden explained and Lane nodded thoughtfully.