Patient Z (21 page)

“I want my weapons,” Cal said to Bren when he found her in the rec room, sitting with Inez. She stared at him, but he didn’t wait, just turned and headed for the armory. “Bring the keys,” he shot back over his shoulder.

She caught up to him a moment later, hurrying to keep up with his longer stride. He didn’t usually have that much longer a stride than her, but anger made him want to cover the ground fast. Get out of here fast. Screw waiting until morning. He wanted to go now, before he weakened and changed his mind.

“Cal, slow down,” Bren said. He didn’t. She kept pace with him anyway. “What is this? Why do you want your guns?”

“I’m leaving. Now.”

“What?” She grabbed his arm and planted her feet, and though he nearly dragged her off them, he gave in to her and stopped. “You can’t leave.”

“Watch me.”

“Cal, we need you. We’ve trained you to fight and survive, and you owe—”

“I survived fine without you before.”

“You mean aside from being bitten by a zombie and almost dying in a drifting boat?”

People would keep going on about that. “I had a bad day.” He pulled his arm free and hurried on, arrived at the locked door of the armory. He slapped it in frustration. “Let me in.” She had a key on a chain round her neck. Mitch had the other. He wondered if he could take it from her by force or if she’d kick his ass. Not that he’d even try. Laying a hand on any of the women would be an invitation for Mitch to cut his balls off and fry them in oil while Cal watched.

“Look.” She softened her tone. “We heard you and Mitch arguing. That doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

“You could hear?” Shit, what else had they heard from that room?

“Just that you were yelling,” she said. “Sound travels in this place. Echoes and bounces through the air vents. But never mind that. You don’t have to leave because you fell out with Mitch. We’ll find you somewhere else to sleep. Keep out of each other’s way for a couple of weeks until you cool down, then talk about it.”

“We’re not going to kiss and make up, Bren.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to be civil and cooperate with each other. You think all the girls on my squad are best pals? I’ve broken up plenty of fights between them. But they can still work together.”

Cal looked at her in surprise. “Mitch talks like you ladies are all paragons of virtue and would never resort to violence except against zombies.”

“All due respect to Mitch, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time in the ladies’ bunk room. There’ve been more than a few knock-down-drag-outs down there.” She smiled. “Don’t tell him. I’d hate to shatter his illusions.”

“He could use some illusion shattering. Like the one where he thinks you can live here for another two years and be safe.”

“Well, maybe that one I agree with him on.” She put a hand on the door. “Cal, you’re angry and upset. You’re not thinking straight. Don’t decide now. You should sleep on it.”

Cal looked around at the narrow corridor, the gloomy lighting. Bren stood between him and the exit into the sunlight, and he had to fight down a mad urge to push her aside. But it was Bren. He liked her. He trusted her. And she was asking him to do something perfectly reasonable.

“I will sleep on it,” he said. “But I’ll sleep on the
Cora
.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to be off the rig. I can’t think straight here.” The place oppressed his mind. Muffled it and closed it down like it was locked in a small box. A tiny box.

“Well, I guess that’s okay. It’s up on its winch right now. I don’t like the idea of lowering it into the water and leaving it there. If Ethan—”

“That’s fine. Leave it hanging in the winch.” It would be like being in a big cradle, rocked by his mother. He should sleep like a baby.

Chapter Twenty-One

Cal had been aboard the
Cora
for an hour and was sitting on the bunk eating a sandwich Bren had sent for him, when the boat rocked violently. He grabbed at the edge of the bunk. That had not been the wind, which had only been rocking the boat in a gentle motion. Someone had come aboard. Without permission.
Three guesses who. And the first two don’t count.

“Cal?”

Mitch. Cal rose, not wanting to have this conversation in the bedroom, or sitting down. He heard the heavy tread of Mitch’s feet on the ladder to the galley and went out to greet him, closing the door into the tiny bunk room.

Mitch stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking large and awkward in the small boat in a way he hadn’t before, when they’d shared the tiny galley making coffee and sandwiches after the raid on the naval base. Awkward was a state of mind too, making a man no longer comfortable in his skin. Mitch certainly did not look comfortable.

“I came to see that you’d had something to eat,” Mitch said.

“No, you didn’t,” Cal said. “I have, by the way, but that’s not why you’re here.”

“Cal, please, stop this. You don’t have to go. If you can’t be with me, I…understand.” His voice shook. He might understand, but he wasn’t happy about it. “But don’t go.”

“You do
not
understand,” Cal said, exasperated at Mitch continuing to totally misunderstand him. “I want to be with you. That’s the point. I want you to come with me. But I won’t choose you over my freedom.” Freedom? Where had that come from? Was that the problem? Did he still feel like a prisoner? He found himself rubbing his wrist unconsciously again. The memory of the restraints would not leave him. “And you won’t choose me over your principles.”

“If you meant what you said about being chased by cops, then I swear I don’t care about that. It’s the past. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s a lie. And you’re a terrible liar.”

“If you would just tell me.” He attempted a weak and unconvincing smile. “I’ll bet I’ve arrested a thousand people for worse. You can’t shock me.”

“Oh, I think I can. You should go, Mitch. This is pointless, and it’s only giving us both more pain.”

“Cal.” He stepped forward, and the boat rocked, making him grab at anything solid to keep his balance. On instinct Cal moved closer, ready to catch him if he fell. “This is ridiculous,” Mitch muttered. “It’s like being in a basket hanging from a tree. Why don’t you come back aboard the rig? This is dangerous. I don’t want to come along tomorrow morning and find you’ve split your head open falling off the bed.”

“It was fine until you jumped aboard. Barely rocks at all when I move about.”

“You have a lighter step.” Mitch glanced down, his eyes sweeping over Cal’s body in a way that made heat rush first to Cal’s cheeks, then pool in his belly. He very much appreciated that once-over. “Or you’re more…graceful.”

Nobody had ever used that word about him before. Cal had to admit he liked it. If Mitch’s body was a heavy weapon, designed for charging in and overpowering, Cal’s was a precision instrument. He knew exactly how to use it. He was shocked to find himself using it now, without conscious thought, responding to Mitch’s nearness. He’d sucked in his belly so his abs were better outlined through the thin, clinging shirt he wore. He’d raised his chin, sticking it out a bit as a challenge. The challenge being,
I dare you to kiss me
.

Mitch clearly understood the challenge. He moved in quickly, and this made the boat rock enough that Cal fell back against the bedroom door. Mitch pressed against him, pinning him there. Kissing him.

The kiss tasted of desperation, and Cal didn’t care. He wanted all of Mitch, including his desperation. He’d tasted desperation many times before, and he liked the power it gave him. He returned the kiss more lazily, dabbing at Mitch’s tongue with his, a gentle caress against the hard, probing thrust of Mitch’s tongue. Mitch pulled back, ran one hand through Cal’s hair.

“Cal, please, don’t leave, not like this, not without…” He didn’t go on, eyes widening, and then looking shamefaced. He found his thoughts unworthy, Cal guessed. Base desires he thought he had overcome. But Cal was all about base desires. Other men’s base desires were meat and drink to him.

“Not without one last fuck?” Cal supplied.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You mean more than that to me. I love you.”

“How about we stick with the one last fuck and forget you said the rest?” It was unnecessarily cruel, he realized, as Mitch’s face fell, his eyes devastated.
Oh God, he meant it
. He wasn’t just saying “I love you” to try to make Cal stay; he meant it. Cal had heard those words more times than he cared to remember. And he’d always left anyway.

Mitch was turning away, his face bleak, suddenly pale and gaunt. No. Cal would not let him go like this. He deserved something for what he’d just said. He deserved that one last fuck.

“Don’t go.” He grabbed Mitch’s arm and held him in place. “One last fuck, Mitch. It’s on offer. Are you really going to turn it down because I don’t…because I can’t say it back?”

Can’t why? Cal wondered. Because he didn’t feel it? Or because he felt it and it scared him too much? Feelings he never wanted to have for anyone. Never wanting to give up that power, the way his mother had.

“I told you once before,” Mitch said. “It can never just be sex for me. Not with someone who’s sticking around.”

“I’m
not
sticking around. So it can be just sex. What are you waiting for? Do you want me to beg? Because you’re the one who came to me, Mitch.”

“I didn’t come for that.”

“Bullshit.” They always came for that, whatever other reason they claimed. Every man came to the person he
wanted
with at least the hope he’d get some.

Mitch didn’t move, just stood, watching Cal, pinning him to the door with his gaze. Cal was the one who broke the stalemate.

“Fine. See you in the morning.” He turned, but as he expected, Mitch rushed back to him, turning him, pushing him back against the door, pinning him with his body this time. His mouth crashed into Cal’s, gone beyond desperation now to some kind of insatiable hunger.

Cal reached behind himself, searching for the door handle, found it, and immediately regretted it when he pressed it, because Mitch was still pushing against him. They staggered into the tiny bedroom, the door smashing back with a splintering sound. They slid against the door, managing not to end up in a heap on the deck, and fell onto the bed. The
Cora
rocked so violently they were almost pitched straight back off.

“Shit, keep still for a second.” Cal wondered why the hell he’d decided to come sleep on the boat. Maybe they should go back to the rig, just for this, before they broke their damn fool necks. But he couldn’t give up the territory. He couldn’t give up the power to Mitch. Once he was back aboard, Mitch would talk him into staying.

They lay unmoving while the boat gradually stopped rocking. Not entirely still. Mitch’s hips moved, not exactly grinding yet, but pressing against Cal, rubbing. The hard shape of his cock was visible through his pants.

“Okay,” Cal said when the boat settled. “Carefully. Sit up and get your boots off.”

Were they doing half-dressed sex or full-naked sex? Half-dressed, he decided. He didn’t want to encourage Mitch to get the wrong idea, that it could be lazy Sunday-morning sex again. This was one-last-desperate-fuck time. No snuggling.

Mitch sat up and unlaced his boots. Cal was already in bare feet and took the opportunity to get fully on the bed, on his back, and unzip his pants. Mitch pulled off his shirt, looked down at Cal, and then climbed onto the bed, his pants still on. He straddled Cal, who reached for Mitch’s fly and undid the button.

“You bring lube?” he asked. Mitch hesitated before answering. Having lube was an admission he’d come here for sex, whatever else he said. Would he lie? Pretend he didn’t have it? He did have it. Cal spotted the outline of the squeezy tube in his left pants pocket.

“I have some in my pocket.” Mitch didn’t lie. Cal admired that; at least Mitch didn’t try to pretend it happened to be there from some other time they’d fucked. Like he’d been walking around with it inadvertently.
Hey, look at this. Got lube in my pocket. Isn’t that lucky?

He leaned over and pushed Cal’s shirt up, obviously trying to take it off, but Cal didn’t raise his arms to help, wouldn’t let him take it off, just push it up to Cal’s chest, exposing his nipples for Mitch to stroke, then lean down and kiss. Cal caressed Mitch’s shoulders. Such broad shoulders. He did like a man with good shoulders. Mitch needed them, since he carried the weight of the world all the damn time. Cal ran his hands over the shoulder blades, traced between them with his fingertips, and then brought his hands back up through Mitch’s hair, mussing it up. Spreading his fingers to thread through the hair, he held Mitch’s head by the sides as Mitch worked his way down, kissing Cal’s chest and belly. He paused when he got to the waistband of Cal’s jeans.

Mitch wasn’t going to try anything silly like undoing the zipper with his teeth, was he? Cal didn’t think Mitch was ready for such advanced tricks. No, Mitch straightened up and pulled the zipper down slowly, then slid the jeans down. The rough denim on his tingling skin made Cal shiver all over. He lifted his ass to make it easier. Mitch pulled the jeans as far as Cal’s knees and stopped. He looked Cal in the eye, pressed his big hands flat to Cal’s belly, and slid them down, fingers trailing over taut skin and hard muscle. Cal groaned. His hips lifted off the bed involuntarily, and his abs clenched, a thrill rippling through his abs. Mitch hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Cal’s shorts and stripped them from him, pulling them down to his knees with the jeans.

Cal’s cock stood up, eager to be touched, and Mitch was eager to touch, first with his hand, stroking, enclosing it in a fist and pumping it until Cal was begging for more, then bending over to lick the head and the shaft, tongue rough and wet on the red-hot skin. Cal thought he’d lose it then, come too soon, but he took a breath, grabbed at the rail over his head to hang on tight, and tried to calm himself. Not yet. Not yet.

“Fuck me, please,” he moaned. “I need you to fuck me now.” Need. He really did need it. Not just
fuck me, hot guy, make me come
type of need. He needed Mitch Kennedy fucking him. Mitch Kennedy’s cock in him. He didn’t know if he could be a whole man anymore without that. That scared him. He hated that desperation in himself as much as he liked it in others. He hated needing anyone so much. But he had to have it now. He kicked until he managed to get his pants and underwear off completely. They fell to the floor.