Blood Howl (27 page)

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Authors: Robin Saxon and Alex Kidwell

BOOK: Blood Howl
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Huffing out a sigh, Jed flopped back in the bed, narrowing a glare at the intruder. “David. Are you just stalking me, sweetcheeks, ’cause if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, you are not my type.”

“Hilarious, Walker,” David said dryly, setting a vase down on the table next to the bed and taking Redford’s abandoned chair. “You are, as always, the height of wit.”

“What are
those
?” Redford was staring at the vase, perplexed. Unlike the last time David had walked in on them, Redford seemed to be quite happy staying right where he was instead of diving under the sheets. Jed let his hand slide under Redford’s shirt to rest against the small of his back, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin. Jed snorted back a laugh as he lazily examined David’s gift, one eyebrow arched up.

Sitting proudly in a glass vase were brightly colored foil wrappers, arranged like flowers. “I hope you got the triple extra large,” Jed smirked, reaching out to flick the edge of one of the condoms, the entire bouquet waving gleefully at them. “Or the ribbed, those are nice.”

“Glow in the dark,” David answered with a sly smile. “To help you find your cock.”

Redford surprised them both with a burst of laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth in shock at the almost-loud noise he made. “Sorry,” he apologized, eyes alight with amusement as he looked at Jed. “Just… you really don’t need any help.”

Amazed at the sight of Redford that free, at how
gorgeous
he was when he laughed, Jed found himself with that damned stupid grin again. “You are incredible, darlin’,” he murmured, drawing Redford in for a long kiss, ignoring the stab of pain in his shoulder in favor of wrapping himself around the other man. He ignored David clearing his throat, wondering if he could talk Redford into putting that bouquet to good use if they reclined the bed and he stayed on the bottom.

Apparently, his thoughts were a little more obvious than he’d assumed. Redford sniffed, eyebrows creasing in concern. “No,” he said, “the doctor said no physical exertion. I know what you’re thinking; I can smell it on you.”

Mouth dropping open, he gave Redford a petulant look. Well, that was just very much not fair. “I do not smell,” he grumbled, rolling onto his back and huffing out a sigh. Stupid wolves.

“If I’m interrupting, I can always go find a nurse to amuse myself with for a while,” David offered, giving Jed a smirk. Something lurked behind it though, a question or a tinge of wondering jealousy. Jed got it. Hell, he still didn’t know what the fuck had happened. Hurricane Redford had turned his life into something else, something
real
. He could see how it might baffle people.

Curling further into Redford’s side, Jed just arched an eyebrow at David. “As much as we appreciate your foray into flower arranging, I doubt that’s why you’re here. Spill it so I can get back to convincing worrywart here that a long, hard fuck is exactly what I need to speed up my healing.”

Snorting, David rolled his eyes, lounging back in the chair. “Ah, yes, healing semen. A well known homeopathic remedy.”

“Damn straight.”

“Really?” Redford looked surprised, but the expression faded into suspicion, and then embarrassment. “No, of course not,” he muttered to himself. “Sorry.”

Jed grinned, kissing the curve of Redford’s jaw. “If only. I’d never get out of bed.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead,” David explained, shrugging, staring up at the ceiling with a faint frown. Even he seemed a little surprised by his concern. “I arrived at your apartment, saw the blood, and assumed your stupidity had finally gotten the better of you. When I finally made sense of your maps—which, by the way, are less organized than a schizophrenic’s wet dream—I arrived just in time to see Mr. Reed hauling your unconscious ass out of the remnants of a building.” His lips quirked up ruefully. “I probably would have been better off just driving around, looking for explosions, but there you are.”

Strange. Jed had worked with David for years. They’d fought and flirted and gone back and forth more times than he could count. In his very small circle of trusted contacts, the ones he wasn’t constantly expecting the knife in his back with, David was near the top, but not once had they ever interacted outside of a job. He certainly hadn’t ever shown up at one of Jed’s many hospital beds with concern or condom flowers. It was… kind of nice. Weird, yeah, but mostly nice.

“I am alive,” he confirmed, giving David a flicker of a smile, combing his fingers absently through Redford’s hair. “And my map system is flawless. Just because you can’t comprehend my brain’s wizardry, don’t hate on the system.”


I
understand the maps,” Redford piped up. “They’re probably the only reason I’m alive.”

“See!” Jed crowed happily, nudging David with his foot. “Geniuses, the two of us. Feel free to wallow in jealousy.”

“You are both insane,” David declared, standing and smoothing invisible wrinkles out of his suit. “And now that I’ve confirmed that, I should go. Work calls and all that.” He hesitated, eyes flicking over the two of them, starting a sentence twice before he sighed and shook his head. “Call me about my fee,” he said as he shrugged his jacket back on. “Try not to get kicked out of the place for indecent exposure.”

“David,” Jed stopped him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the blanket, considering him. The snack wasn’t present. Jed so wasn’t going to ask, but it definitely was noted. “Before you bill me, I wanted to double check some shit. There was a guy, one of Fil’s hired guns. He’s the one I sent you the sketch of.”

“Edward Grasio?” David confirmed. Off of Jed’s nod, he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe again. “The building was toast, Walker. Your boy was making his way out of the rubble. If Grasio was in there, I have to assume they’re finding his pieces in Vermont right about now. Besides, there were more stiffs than at a Bieber concert. Maybe you blew him away.”

Frowning, Jed sighed, trying to remember. Everything was so blurred. He liked to think he’d remember shooting Mr. Handlebar, but hell, he might have passed his own mom in there and he’d never know. “I shot the bastard,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead with his good hand. “Fil. I unloaded a fucking clip and he barely blinked.”

David snorted a laugh. “Oh my God, Jed, do you ever listen? You can’t just
shoot
things like that. Jesus, I thought you got Ratty’s message, considering Fil’s dead and you are not, but apparently you’re just the luckiest damn bastard in the world. What the hell are you doing carting around a silver knife?”

Jed blinked, surprised. “What? I lifted that knife off of you, back in Reno. It was in my emergency stash. I just used it because my crater-making bullets seemed to just tickle the bastard. Are you saying Big, Bad, and Ugly had an allergy or something?”

“The silver knife had your blood on it, Jed,” Redford piped up. “That was what killed him.”

“Of course it was,” David answered smoothly, straightening up and shaking the sleeves of his jacket to straighten them. “Blood of sacrifice on a blade of silver. That’s the only thing that really works for werewolves of Fil’s caliber.” Glancing at them sideways, he snorted out a half-amused laugh. “Go buy yourself a lottery ticket, Walker.”

Then he was gone, graceful and silent as he turned the corner. Staring after him for a moment, Jed just exhaled out a quick breath, flopping back on the pillow. Jesus tapdancing Christ.

“So,” he murmured, turning to look up at Redford. “What now?”

“Now you concentrate on getting better,” Redford replied, pressing a kiss against Jed’s jaw. “And forget about sex in a hospital bed. It’s not happening.” He nudged his nose in against Jed’s neck, smiling. “Although you do smell good when you’re thinking about it.”

Ah, yeah, right. The
wolf
thing. Now compounded by about a thousand, thanks to a certain asshole. Jed reminded himself to go and burn down the rest of the building when he had a chance. Might make him feel better.

He wasn’t actually sure how he felt about the New and Improved Redford. It wasn’t like it really changed things. When your… whatever Redford was, when he was a freaking
werewolf
, the degrees between the types hardly seemed important. It still hadn’t really sunk in. Jed imagined it might take a while. His whole world view was kind of based on the idea that this was it, that what he knew was everything there was. Now he was second guessing the existence of the Lucky Charms guy.

What Jed did know, however, was that he fit pretty damn perfectly into Redford’s arms. Really, werewolves or not, that was more important than some philosophical pondering on the state of reality. He’d figure out what all of this meant later. Or maybe never. So long as he got to do it with Redford right next to him, as corny as it sounded, Jed figured they’d be all right.

“Imagine how great I’ll smell when I’m actually
having
it,” he leered hopefully, waggling his eyebrows. Redford just breathed out a laugh, shaking his head and smoothing his hand through Jed’s hair.

“I will imagine,” he replied dryly, and Jed would have sworn there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. Bastard was enjoying this. “For four to six weeks, which is what a normal recovery time should be.”

Oh, screw his great Aunt Fanny, four to six weeks. Jed would be back to normal in
one
if he had to kill himself to get there. Exhaling noisily to show his displeasure, Jed shifted closer in to Redford, letting his head drop onto his shoulder. Okay, he’d admit, he was a little tired. A brief nap wouldn’t hurt, and when he woke up, they were revisiting the topic.

Napping
he did a lot of, in the following days. As well as flicking through basic cable and bitching at nurses for bringing him inedible food. Seriously, Jell-O was not
food
. It was a freak of nature. It
wiggled
. Real food did not wiggle at him. Also, no one would let him smoke, which was
unconstitutional
, and he would have killed for a drink. Hell, he might kill just for shits and giggles. He couldn’t remember being this
bored
before.

Redford didn’t leave, though. Even when, three days in, Jed tried to stage a jailbreak and had to be restrained by a beefy nurse named Sheldon. Red had just sighed and trailed after his weak ass, fretting and carrying his robe. Every night, Red fell asleep next to him, holding his hand, and Jed tried to deny how much he relied on that. There were no more nightmares. Even the beginnings of them had him burrowing further into the strong warmth beside him, and they were chased away by Redford’s solid presence.

Eventually though, he managed to convince the fascist doctors that being weak and showing the beginning signs of infection were not enough to keep him around. At least, Jed liked to think it was his stellar negotiation skills. It was probably the fact that his insurance was as fake as his ID and all the antibiotics they were pumping into him. Admittedly, he felt better after the fifth day, well enough to walk on his own and piss without falling over. A red-letter day in Walker-ville. They declared him clear for discharge when his temperature stayed normal for a full twenty-four hours, and Jed was finally a free man.

“I want a burger,” he told Redford as they climbed into a cab, Jed holding onto his hand tightly. For balance, of course. “And fries. And a milkshake. I want a 50s diner stereotype, and I want it deep fried.”

“That does sound good,” Redford agreed with a slight smile, resting their intertwined fingers on his knee. For a moment Jed anticipated a juicy burger, the crisp, salty heaven of fries, wondering if he could talk Redford into an extra side of bacon. That is, until Redford added mildly, staring out the window as they drove, “You can have soup.”

Damn him.

The soup was green. Broccoli something or other, it had vegetables and no bacon to speak of. Unfortunately, Redford just fixed those dumb cow eyes on him, and Jed was left with no choice but to sigh and eat it up like a good little soldier. Knievel was passed out on his lap. The cat had all but attacked him the second he walked in the door, meowing pitifully and weaving around their ankles. The brief trips Redford had taken home, the ones precipitated by nurses kicking him out for a shower and sleep, apparently were not enough attention for Her Highness.

The apartment was stupidly clean. Apparently Redford had taken out his stress on the grime in the shower and the streaks on the windows. Speaking of….

“Nice repair job,” Jed smirked. The broken window pane had been covered in an old pizza box, taped down to keep the weather out. “I think we should keep it that way. A souvenir.”

Redford had blushed, stammering something about how he didn’t know who to call, and there had been too many glass repair men in the yellow pages, but he broke off to give Jed an incredulous look. “Why would you want—”

“Because you got out.” Jed stopped him with a finger pressed lightly to his lips, eyes intent on his. “Because you’re incredibly strong, baby.” A beat and he grinned, wickedly, letting his fingertip trail down to slide along the front of his throat. “Because it’s hot as hell thinking of you running around with a gun, being all badass. I think I like that mental picture.”

Red blushed again, but there was heat in his gaze as he moved a little closer. “Yeah?” he murmured, ducking his head to catch Jed’s fingertip between his teeth. Jed couldn’t help the quiet moan at the feel of the bite, shifting nearer still, winding up all but in Redford’s lap.

“Oh, yeah,” Jed assured him, voice dropping a few octaves.

“I wasn’t very badass,” Redford confessed. “I tried to hide one of your guns like you do, except it dropped down the back of my pants. And while I was running I—I ended up in the red light district, and some big man told me I looked like I needed to be spanked.” He smothered an embarrassed smile against Jed’s palm. “I think I’ll leave the action stuff up to you in the future.”

His head tipping back, Jed laughed, cheeks aching with how wide his grin was. How the hell had he managed to find someone like Redford? God, the
innocence
was amazing. There was something worldly, almost weather beaten, in his eyes, someone who’d suffered much, who’d seen darkness, all tangled up with a wide-eyed wonder about so much that Jed was jaded toward. The heavy weight Jed carried around, that he assumed
everyone
carted with them, seemed so much lighter when Redford was there.

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