“Okay then. All you do is saynoto me. I live by your timeline, your decisions, your reactions. Not that I ever played team sports, but that shit doesn’t sound very team oriented. I’m not a lap dog, and you’re becomin’ a dictator.” Dev had to be the noisiest chef on the planet. Everything he did required a slam, shove, or drop as he manhandled the bacon package.
“When have I saidno?” Cash asked defensively. “When have I ever been anything but agreeable with you?”
“In the last twenty-four hours? That delicious lookin’ bagel with the cream cheese and jelly I wanted to stop and get yesterday mornin’.” Raw bacon hit the skillet, slice after slice. Dev used the tips of his fingers on the hot pan to adjust the bacon’s position. “The hot-as-fuck tattoo I offered to ink over your scar—”
Cash stopped Dev from continuing his ridiculous list. Dev was so random it was shocking he ever got anything done. “You wanted me to permanently ink your name in small letters up and down my scar.”
Dev cast a quick look over his shoulder, a strip of bacon dangling between his fingers. “It was a bad ass design that I custom created for you and wasn’t gonna charge you or the government for. Thousands of dollars all on me. Then I wanted to run across the street to check the price of a new skull saddle bag. Mine are old as fuck and barely stay on. I wanted you to go with me and you saidno.” Dev lifted his other hand, showing three fingers, meaning three different times Cash had said no.
“You’re lying right now. You wanted to mess around on the back of your bike,” Cash said incredulously. “You know that’s never gonna happen. I’m too big. And I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m not having sex with you outside of our bedrooms.”
What happened to this conversation? Throughout the history of his employment, Cash had come across the most cunning criminals, both inside the government and out. He dealt with them efficiently, not taking any bullshit off anyone. How did Devin Fox throw him off balance at every turn?
“So you say,” Dev answered smart-mouthed, giving Cash a lude once-over before tossing more bacon in the pan. Based on all the goddamns that followed, the skillet must have been hotter than he’d expected as he tried to move the new pieces around with his fingers.
“What did you give me?” Cash asked.
“Not much,” Dev barked, insultingly, turning his efforts toward cracking the eggs into a bowl. “Half a Xanax had you sleepin’ in like it’s Sunday mornin’.”
“How many times have you drugged me?”
“Last night, first time.” The back of Dev’s hand lifted, attempting the scouts honor pledge.
No matter how angry he got, no matter how many things Dev had done to him—tonight being a new low in that ongoing list—he couldn’t manage to stay too mad at Dev.
Maybe that was the dream’s purpose. Dev didn’t understand that all this distraction messed with the answers they sought. Cash was completely failing, too emotional, and too much in love to see clearly. For some crazy reason, he was excusing Dev’s actions as selfless.
What a joke. Instead of removing Dev from the case, he should remove himself. He went to the sofa and dropped down, completely defeated. His best wasn’t enough. Dev had been out of the house, on his own for hours, and Cash hadn’t known.
“Stop bein’ that way,” Dev said. He glanced up to see Dev watching him from his spot in front of the stove. His eyes narrowed the longer he stared. “My alibi’s tight. I was here with you. I promise no one saw me. I guarantee I can’t be tracked. I did what I had to do.”
Cash didn’t respond. No matter what he said, Dev would disregard his worry as silly.
Dev’s bare feet came into view. Cash was within grasping distance of Dev but didn’t reach out. His soul hurt with the restraint he used. The professional inside him grew stronger with the distance.
“Did it ever occur to you that with Cummings gone…” Cash kept an eye on those feet to maintain his resolve. “That might jeopardize Keyes’s plea?”
“Yes, it did occur to me,” Dev said. “But the evidence still holds whether Cummings is in the picture or not. They got witnesses and video of Keyes whippin’ that loser’s ass. And my secret agent isn’t gonna let it fall apart. You’ve got my back and I have Keyes’s back.” Dev dropped down on the sofa next to Cash. “Ifsofactso.”
“I believe it’s ipso facto,” Cash corrected then let go of a deep sigh. He finally lifted his gaze. Dev smiled, but the caution in his eyes remained.
“You’d know somethin’ like that.” Dev sat back, taking Cash’s hand. “I’m gonna talk to Keyes. Tell him everything. If his boyfriend—”
“What?” Cash barked. Surely, he hadn’t heard that correctly. He jerked his hand out of Dev’s hold. Sudden sharp pain made both his palms go to his temples, mashing there. “Dev. Why’re you so hard to deal with? Of course you can’t go see Keyes. That risks everything. Especially with what you just said about your father having eyes everywhere. Do you not remember the pictures of Keyes and his boyfriend? How do you think they were obtained?”
“You seriously have to trust me more,” Dev shot back, his palm resting on Cash’s knee.
This was too much. He could feel the flush from high blood pressure creeping up his neck.
“I’ll get us in without bein’ seen. I don't make mistakes.”
Jesus. Cash pushed to his feet, needing space. No, he needed air. His heart pounded violently against his ribcage. The dream was a premonition. “You don’t understand. Eyes are everywhere on both sides of this case…”
Dev rose, following Cash as he paced the small living room. The over-the-top biker persona was gone. The sweet guy was back, worried about what he saw in Cash.
Dev handled him with care as he took his wrists and slowly drew him into a hold.
An apple that Cash hadn’t seen Dev holding came to his lips, urging him to take a bite. That was his sweet guy. Cash had grabbed a Honeycrisp apple once at the store. He told Dev they were his favorite. From that minute on, Dev had always picked up fresh apples for Cash to have ready to eat.
